Bike Ride

Bike Ride

According to Mapquest, the journey from Daysville to Morganfield, has a total estimated distance of 104.82 miles and a total estimated time of 2 hours, 22 minutes. Of course this assumes that you are riding in or on some sort of motorized vehicle. The trip will take a bit longer on bicycle and on this particular summer day, touring bikes were the choice of a half a dozen or so of us. I guess I would rank this excursion fairly high on the difficulty scale. It wasn’t the distance, since a century ride (100 miles) was pretty much standard. The heat, hills, wind, rain and traffic conditions conspired to make this ride on the back roads of Western Kentucky at least an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10 of difficulty.

But then, the difficulty was one of the things that made a ride memorable. We started riding together as a way of brotherly fellowship. We were all part of the same small cell of the church known as the Covenant Church. The development of community and closeness was very important to us and trips like these were ways for us to grow closer together and learn spiritual truths along the way. Riding mile after mile in close formation, with little but the sounds of nylon tires on hot pavement to listen to, gave us many opportunities for deep reflection and thought.

We had several memorable rides. On one occasion we rode from Mobile, Alabama to Tampa, Florida over a six day period. We’d get up early, eat a hearty breakfast and get in our 90 to 100 miles a day before 2:00 pm. This would give us plenty of time to check into a motel, get a shower and a short nap before looking for good place to eat. We started out on the western coast along the Gulf, but quickly moved inland through the everglades to escape the strong crosswinds that seem to always want to tip us over the many low railing bridges that we encountered. This trip ended with us having to encircle much of Tampa to find a bridge that was legal for us to cross. The sight of the mile marker saying Tampa 17 miles got to be quite annoying after a while. Still, this was overall one of the most pleasant trips that we had taken.

We did have one day where we would ride the tail winds of an summer storm, making over 25 miles an hour and out sprinting it, only to be caught again as one of our riders, Larry, kept having flat tires. The storm would then overtake us and we’d repeat the whole process again, outrunning the storm, only to be overtaken again when Larry had another flat. The problem he was having was related to the way high speed touring bike tires were mounting on the rims. We were using “sew-ups” where the tire and tubes were all one piece. You would replace the entire tire, gluing them onto the rims. The problem we were having was that the extreme heat of the pavement was preventing the tire from seating and as we started riding, it would roll over on the rim causing another flat. We finally figured that out and took enough time to let the glue cure for a reasonable time, but in doing so, we lost our race with the storm. It was however, a unique and exciting event.

Perhaps the most difficult ride was one that had several thousand riders making the trip from Columbus to Portsmouth Ohio. The distance wasn’t the problem. It was barely a century ride, but we had the misfortune of having a major storm system pass through the area the morning of the trip. It was the remnant of a very powerful hurricane roaring up from the south and as it barrowed across the flat Ohio landscape, it brought with it sheets of stinging rain and a ferocious wind gusting to 55 mph.

The rain subsided shortly after we began the ride, but the wind was with us the entire day. It was coming straight at us and was relentless causing us to labor heavily in first and second gear all day long. At one point, I was separated from the rest of our group. This was a hardship in itself as we would take turns breaking wind, giving us some much needed rest. As I came upon a hilly, tree laden landscape, I was able to get enough shielding from the wind that I could shift into seventh gear and makes some pretty good time. I was pretty well exhausted and was beginning to wonder if I would be able to finish the ride, but this break in the wind gave me new hope.

As I came down a fairly long grade into some flat land, I was nearly ecstatic to see the sign proclaim Portsmouth 19 miles away. Still having a good wind break from a stand of thick trees on my left, I was making good progress until the road turned sharply to the left, exposing me suddenly to the southern gale. I was strapped in the stirrups with my biking shoes firmly locked into place when the blast hit me head on in full force. My aching legs strained as hard as I could to turn the crank, but this gust had surprised me, and I hadn’t had time to shift into a smaller gear. I froze for a second, suspended in that agonizing dance with all of my effort focused on pushing downward on the pedals, but to no avail. I lost that battle and fell over sideways, my feet still locked in the stirrups. I lay there a few seconds in pure despair. I really didn’t think I could continue. Eventually, I did get up and mount my bike once more. Somehow, I made it into town and at journey’s end, felt satisfaction that I had not given up.This was a tough ride and we all decided to call the sag wagon to come pick us up and to forgo the return trip the next day.

Often, small things like a new pair of riding shoes, would affect the ride. I had this happen to me when we rode from Louisville to Cincinnati. We took the scenic route along the Ohio River. The twisting road stretched to a distance of 140 miles. This was the longest ride that we had ever been on, but the terrain was friendly and the weather pleasant and except for my sore toes aching in the new shoes, it was a piece of cake. Sitting at a rest stop, I overheard an elderly gentleman relate the story of how several members of the Louisville bike club, which sponsored the ride, were concerned about the distance of the ride. He said that he got up on Saturday morning, made the trip and returned the next day. He reported back to the club that the ride wasn’t all that tough. This man, who was in his 70s, was riding this particular day on a bicycle built for two. His fellow rider was a blind man in his 50s. Since they were making the ride with no problem, it encouraged the rest of us to continue with a cheerful, positive attitude.

These were all significant rides, but the one I mentioned at the start of this piece, originating from our home in Kentucky was in many ways the hardest of them all. First of all, the ride took place in the dead of summer and it was extremely hot and humid. To make matters worse, we had rain a good part of the trip. Usually, this is not a big problem and often the rain is refreshing, but this rain was different. The road was covered with coal dust and as the coal trucks passed us at high speeds, we were covered with blacked spray. It seemed to us that these truckers took delight in seeing just how close they could come to us. We’d feel a strong gust of wind and spray as they passed by, covering us with coal laden water. Perhaps most disconcerting was hearing them lay on their horns as they approached us from the rear. It told us in no uncertain terms that this was their road and that we were trespassers on their domain and deserving of the scorn that they heaped upon us.

It was with great relief that we rode weary and exhausted into Morganfield. There’s a certain sense of anticipation when you near the end of a long ride. Thoughts of a shower, food and fellowship give you a bit of a boost and help make the final leg bearable. On this particular ride, however, this feeling slowly slipped away from us, as we began to suspect that we had missed our turn off point.

At first, no one said anything, but then questions started moving up the line about whether we had missed the turn. Our lead biker, who was also our pastor, was sure that we hadn’t and that we would shortly arrive at our destination. Being good little disciples, totally trained in the concept of submission, we dutifully followed, even after it became obvious to all that we had missed our turn off point.

Eventually, after seeing the 55 mile per hour speed limit sign, and recognizing that we were no longer in Morganfield, but were in fact leaving it behind, our leader admitted that we must have missed our turn and pointed us back toward town and the nearest pay phone. We eventually made our destination, but we had added several hard miles to an already exhausting trip.

Looking back on this trip, many years later, I see the lesson to be learned. I have long since seen the error in the discipleship/submission doctrine that had so heavily influenced our small fellowship. I do believe that the purity of heart that guided many of our leaders, including our own local pastor, prevented the abuse to graduate to the level that it could have arisen. Leaders like Jim Jones and David Koresh are good examples of false leaders who lead their flock into total ruin. Fortunately, we did not go to this extreme.

While we did not suffer these ends, we did suffer. Many of our number were hurt by this teaching that encouraged following men, fostering a weak spiritual life and hindering the ability to hear directly for the Lord. It is understandable how this could happen. It’s much easier to hear the voice of a man than to hear that still soft voice. We are lazy by nature and always willing to take the easy road. If one of us, who knew that we had missed our turn, would have spoken forcefully and if our leader had a heart to listen and admitted that he might be mistaken, it would have saved us a few hard miles.

Following leadership, I have learned, is always both a danger and a blessing. I believe God gives us leadership to help us move in unity and common purpose, but when leadership errs, all suffer. Proverbs 29:2 tells us, “When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice; but when a wicked man rules, the people groan. (NKJ)”

This applies not only to our spiritual leaders but also our secular ones. This is why it is imperative that we become engaged with the process of selection of leadership. We are fortunate in our country that we can vote and exercise this privilege. We should also become informed and make an effort to voice our concerns when necessary. This is not a luxury but a necessity. To do otherwise, could lead to our own destruction. It is easy when riding a bike to stay in line and let the one if front break the wind, but sometimes we need to pull out of line and make our own path, even if we face resistance.

As I write these words, I am aware of how difficult this is. It takes courage to confront wayward leadership. More often than not, the perspective you offer will be rejected. I have found that when this happens, the Lord will most likely have you stay in line, pray and suffer the consequences. It is not a pleasant experience, but we do have the promise that He causes “all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” Rom 8:28 (NKJ)

Written by Steve Tichenor