Day 8: The Gee Brief - Tributes, Signs From God , and Strangely Parked Bikes

Today's Stats

Miles today: 73

Total so far: 506

Miles to go: 2768

Weather: HOT around 90. Rained at the end as I was getting into the
truck.

Road: The locals call them hills, but being from CT these seem more like
minor berms and swales

Physical: My right side tush hurts.

Tribute to Pudge

So, the day begins just fine. Jenard is behaving, the weather is great, the road is complying and I am confidently on my way. Then it started. A feeling from deep inside my soul boils up to my face and I begin to sob...big healthy "I'm feeling really BAD" sobs. My thoughts have wandered over to Pudge.

Pudge was my nephew, Charlie's dog.

Two days ago, Charlie and his wife Arianne made the difficult but loving decision to help Pudge pass on to the other side. I am fighting back sobs right now as I type this.

The reason I was sobbing this morning and I'm sobbing now (I love the word "sobbing" it completely captures the action) is not because I am sympathetic or empathetic to Charlie's feelings. It is because I am feeling EXACTLY the same thing that Charlie is feeling. It even goes beyond that. When I think of my little Birnie Bear and my Rosco Moose, I feel as if I AM every true pet-human.

Pet humans don't lose their best friend. They lose their right arm, or the right ventricle to their heart. The pet's absence creates a whole in their soul. But as I described it to Charlie, there really isn't a hole at all.

In actuality the animals we love fill in the missing parts of our human-ness. Temple Grandin said it right when she claimed, "Animals MAKE us human." The place in our hearts and souls that animals fill doesn't empty out when our loved ones move on. Our hearts are still full of their love, and our souls sing with their joy.

All of the above is absolutely true, however it is also true that our arms ache forever to actually physically HOLD them again. Until that moment when we can once again embrace them, hugs from the loved ones who are still with you help. LOT'S of them. I thank God every day for my wife, the love of my life.

So, Charlie, here's to Pudge and to the spot he will ALWAYS occupy in your heart. I give you the one and only poem that has ever consoled me when one of my babies passes on. I hope it works for you too.

In God we live and move and have our being.--Acts 17:28

Thank you, God,
for lending him to me.
Because of him I learned
a little more about loving,
a little more about taking care,
a little more about letting things be.
Thank you, God.
He is one of the nicest ways
that I have ever met you.
I really miss him.
But I'm looking
for some new sign of you.
Please help me find it.
Amen.

Signs from God

This one is not about pets.  It's about Methodist Ministers. In the past three days, I have met TWO Methodist ministers and had in depth conversations with them about God and bicycling. We agreed on the cycling, but as far as God goes....well I haven't completely figured out yet why God keeps throwing me into the path of Methodist ministers. I'm sure I'll figure it out at some point.

The first Minister's name was Dean. He's a friend of my cousin Leah. I don't have a picture of him, but I DO have a picture of the second one. His name is Dan.  I encountered him at a gas station outside of Canandaigua. I was sitting there by the gas station wall airing out my feet, socks off, just letting the doggies breathe. Dan mistook the look on my face for distress and cycled by to ask if everything was OK. I said things were awesome, and he attempted to cycle away. But right at that moment two cars converged on Dan's path and almost sent him to Methodist heaven. 

It was not Dan's time, but I felt the need to find out more about this nice gentleman who had just risked his life to make sure that I was OK. So we talked about bicycles and NY hills. When he told me that he is a Methodist minster, I told him that he was the second one of his kind I had met in the past few days. To his credit, he kept the conversation on bikes and didn't try to discuss God's motives for throwing so many Methodist ministers my way. 

Dan called the low rolling hills of NY duggels. At least I THINK that's what he said. He said they resembled upside down dugout canoes. He then said that I probably wouldn't encounter any serious mountain type hills until the Rocky Mountains.  I hope he's right.  I LOVE hills, but it would be nice to start logging some century rides.

More Tributes

This one is a mystery to me. I'm tooling along route 20 west, which is almost entirely made up of good smelling farms (see, "The Straight Poop on Smells") and I see this white bicycle that's leaning against a farm fence. This seemed like an odd place to park a bike, so as I got closer, I had a better look. What I found was what you see in the picture below.

I have no idea who this is for but a great deal of care was put into its creation. The bike is evened chained to the post as if it's waiting for it's master to return and take it on a new journey.

After doing a little research, I found out this is called a "Ghost Bike", and that white bikes like this have been placed in locations all over the world. Their purpose is to commemorate a cyclist who was killed or severely injured near their location.

If anyone seeing this pic has the back story to it I'd appreciate hearing from you. I know it's not poetic, but the only thing I can think of saying when I look at this pic is...wow. The moment was far more intense than "wow", but that's all I got for now.

There's a lot more for me to post, but I'm tired and would seriously like to bust a century tomorrow. So wish me luck. I know this is a somber topic to end on, but trust me, I have no intention of leaving this realm until I reach 113. But whether it happens tomorrow, or 57 years from now, I think the ghost bike thing would be a pretty cool tribute.

Still feeling somber?  How about I leave you with a song?   The Singing Cyclist: America is Beautiful!

One more thought: Remember, no matter WHAT path you are on, always take time to pause ans smell the cows. Saying Hello To Two Cows