My dad, Walsine Pierce, is a great inspiration to me. At the age of 78 years young, he and his tricycle recently flew to San Diego to begin a cross country trip. When you hear those words, you are probably like my Dad's cardiologist who, when he first heard those words, asked where Dad was planning to take his trip.
"Across the country."
"What do you mean?"
"I dip my rear wheel in the Pacific Ocean. I pedal as long as it takes to dip my front tire in the Atlantic Ocean."
"Oh... THAT country!"
Yes, Dad is not afraid of big challenges. Nor does he allow obvious obstacles to stand in his way. Dad remembers and blogs about the cardiologist's advice:
What the doctor said was that he couldn't think of a reason to tell a
78 year old man who was a diabetic with high blood pressure, an
abdominal hernia, a torn right shoulder rotor, a bum left knee who has a
heart problem that he couldn't take a cross country trip. A tongue in
cheek statement that I don't think was fully appreciated by my son,
Mark, or my wife Julie who had gone along to hear the report for
themselves. (Not that they didn't trust me. UMMM!)
Undeterred, Dad flew off to San Diego last week to begin his trip. He also decided to raise money for his local church to refurbish the sanctuary by getting pledges for every mile that he rode. A team of 12 people agreed to handle things for him back in Ohio as he, by himself, attempted the cross country ride.
Where would he sleep at night? Wherever he pitched his tent.
He was following a prescribed route followed by many other bicyclists before him. He had lots of information on where he could stay. He had a phone that had a GPS chip and could give him directions.
Without question my Dad has a lot of heart. However, his heart was the one obstacle that he could not avoid. On his second day out, he encountered the western mountains. His legs were good. His spirits were high. Unfortunately, so was his heart rate. He writes:
I tried climbing the mountain like you eat an elephant, one small
bite at a time. At home when my heart beat would get at the 80% of
maximum level, 120bpm, I simply stop pedaling and coast until the rate
decreased. I got down to where I was only riding 50 yards at a
time and taking a rest. Didn't help! Fifty yards later I'd be well
above 120bpm. I tried taking an hour's rest. Didn't help. When I pedaled just a few moments my bpm would be right back up there.
AT ONE POINT WHEN MY BPM WAS 140, I COULDN'T STOP PEDALING BECAUSE OF THE TRAFFIC. My butt was exposed and I had to keep moving. My bpm went to 148. At this point I realized that to continue the ride was sucidal. I promised Julie and the children I wouldn't do that.
At that point I ended my attempt to do the cross country ride. I had 17 miles of mountain to climb today and 34 miles of mountain to climb tomorrow. Physically I had the strength to make the climb. The trike was performing wonderfully. My heart was not.
There are times in life when it becomes necessary to adjust to the
absolutes of a situation. I had a lot involved with the ride but
becoming a corpse wouldn't help.
Dad flew down the mountain and at 11PM at night, after riding four hours after dark, arrived back at his San Diego hotel room. A day later he caught a red-eye flight back to Ohio.
If you enjoy reading real life adventures, I highly recommend you going to my Dad's blog and reading all the last week's entries. I've only scratched the surface. He talks about the people of San Diego. He jokes about trying to find his way to a WalMart using public transportation. Clearly Dad has met many a stranger in life, but never walked away a stranger... if he could help it!
As I wrote at the outset, my Dad is a great inspiration to me in so many ways. He lives life to its fullest. He makes friends everywhere he goes. But perhaps the greatest inspiration to me is that he is not afraid to take on HUGE challenges... or as he usually refers to them: his opportunities. I realize as I write this that one of my biggest fears is my fear of failure. What if what I attempt doesn't work out? What if I can't do it? What if I fail?
I look at my Dad and I realize that what other people think one way or the other really doesn't matter in the long run. What matters is what I think. Will I go through life wondering what might have been if only I had made the attempt? Or will I do what very few people ever do in life - actually discover life's limits by going all the way to the edge and peer off the edge of the limit as pebbles cascade off below me? Dad has done this.
For now... (there's always tomorrow...) Dad knows that a cross country trip might not be an option for him. But at least he KNOWS it. He does not speculate about it or wonder "what if?" He's been there!
And as far as what other people might think about his failure... can you actually imagine someone suggesting Dad failed? What Dad did was have a GRAND adventure! And anyone small minded enough to ever put him down for the attempt only betrays his own unwillingness to ever attempt something as GRAND.
I stand amazed at Dad and his great adventures. He will add this failure to his many others. Since the age of 65 he has only hiked 600 miles of the Appalachian Trail, he has only backpacked across half of Ireland, and he has only sailed (three times) down part of the Ohio River. Oh, if only I could be a failure just like my Dad!
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