Team Stick Together: May 2007

Why I ride the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic:

Eric Spencer and I are getting ready for a pilgrimage to Durango, Colorado to ride 50 miles of mountain roads from Durango to Silverton in memory of my late brother and sister-in-law. We miss Keith and Kela with all of our hearts, and this ride helps me to feel close with them again. The Iron Horse Bicycle Classic was a recent accomplishment for Keith only a few weeks before he was killed in an airplane crash near Steamboat Springs, Colorado. It is an overwhelming experience to ride his bike, and sweat on the same road he sweated on so close to the end.

After their passing, we traveled to their Colorado home for a memorial service and to take care of their earthly belongings. During an emotional conversation with Ron Enge, he mentioned that we might uncover a poster from the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic. Six friends, he said, signed that poster as a memory of their experience and as a commitment to ride the race again. The 2004 race was going to be empty without Keith to ride with them again.

When we returned to their house to clean it out, I discovered the signed poster. My eyes welled up with tears as I recalled my conversation with Ron. As I looked at my brother’s signature, I could feel the emotion that Keith must have had when signing this poster. He was satisfied with his recent accomplishment and excited about enjoying the camaraderie and friendly competition in future years. At that instant, I purposed to myself that I would take his place in the following year.

Ron Enge of Durango, Colorado started the tradition 10 years ago. Each year he has encouraged his friends and family to enjoy the experience (if you can call pain and suffering on a bike saddle enjoyment). His son-in-law Barry lived near Keith and Kela, and was instrumental in initiating Keith’s interest in cycling. Barry is an accomplished cyclist, and Keith realized the mental and physical health benefits of maintaining an active lifestyle.

The last time we saw Keith and Kela at my cousins’ wedding, just prior to the race, he was so excited to have lost considerable weight. He improved his overall level of fitness and was enjoying a better quality of life. After the race, I called him to find out how he fared. He said that he had done way better than planned. His descriptions of the long grueling climbs and the dicey descents were nearly unbelievable. I could not fathom climbing a hill 6 miles long, at 6% grade then screaming down the other side at nearly 40 MPH. It was anomalous to picture my pudgy little brother as a lean powerful cyclist wearing lycra, but he had done it and done it well.

Memorial day weekend of 2004, I had the sublime opportunity to share in the Iron Horse tradition. It is no ordinary bike race; it is an extraordinary weekend of fellowship, friendship, story telling, racing, cheering, and eating. The time spent at Ron and Jan’s home with our friends is beyond compare. Jan hosts a Friday evening dinner for all of the racers and their families. She is an amazing cook, and the meal is tailored for a pre-race carb-loading session. After dinner, Jan reads a written account of Ron’s 1st trip up the mountain. The room is full of laughter and we are all amazed that it has developed into such a neat tradition. There are several people in the room that are good enough to finish with the fastest racers, and others that barely make it to Silverton, but the outcome of the race is not really the focus. They are all friends, using the race as an excuse to spend time together. It is not hard to understand why Keith loved these people!

Durango itself is full of extraordinary restaurants, cafes, and shops. The ladies love the shopping and the atmosphere of the town. At your fingertips are mountain biking, white water rafting, hiking, and camping. The Animas river runs through the center of town, and the surrounding landscape is amazing mountain views. It is easy to be jealous of the people that can call Durango home.

Throughout the nearly 5 hours that it takes me to finish my first race, my mind is focused on Keith. The climbs are punishing, and the descents spine-tingling. The thought of struggling up the same grade as Keith did, on his bike, wearing his number brings motivation and emotion. I purpose time after time that I will refuse to let his death bring devastation. There is extreme sorrow and sadness in the loss of a brother and sister, but in his honor I want to bring something positive into my life. I am no-where near what I need to be physically, but I have come a long way from where I was. As I reach the top of Molas Pass at 10,900 feet, I know that the toughest climbing is over. The remaining seven miles are almost all down hill. On the straighter stretches of road, where I do not have to concentrate on avoiding the cliff just the right of me, I am given the chance to reflect on what just transpired. Emotions overcome me when I round a bend and see Silverton nearly 1000 feet below me. I realize that I am seeing the same beautiful landscape that Keith saw, and feeling the same amazement. The view is awe-inspiring.

As I come into town, there are few people paying attention to the racers anymore. All of the elite racers finished hours ago, and just a few of us stragglers are still rolling in. Nearing the finish line, I see a large group of people cheering for me. It is my family, Mom, Dad, my wife Leann, and daughter Marina, along with all of our friends. They waited at the finish line for countless hours in support of my efforts to remember Keith. Their smiles, shouts, and tears overcome me. I wave my fist in the air and begin to cry. This is truly joy and sorrow interwoven. This is the group of people that brought happiness to Keith and Kela, and they have brought happiness and comfort to us as well.

All our growing years I struggled to stay ahead of him as the “big” brother, but now it is somewhat satisfying to admit that he was the better man. I can only strive to have what he had spiritually and physically. I am proud to call him my brother. He is gone, and all that we had naturally is over, but I have a lifetime of wonderful memories.

Riding his bike has become my escape from the gloom brought on by grief, and it helps me feel close to him. Just knowing that he found enjoyment and accomplishment in the saddle, encourages me to continue. I know that he did it, and I can too. There is still a touch of rivalry; one day I would like to ride the mountain faster than he did.

This year when I ride it again, Eric Spencer will be riding it with me for the second time. His wife, Jennifer, and his dad, Rob, will be making the trip out there with us as well. It is wonderful to have their support and care. I am also acutely aware that I am not the only one that has suffered loss. They lost a cousin, and many lost a friend. We all grieve in different ways, and the extent of the loss is different for each person. I am thankful for each person that loved and still loves Keith and Kela. As the country music song says, “it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved.” Some things I have learned from this experience; love your friends and family, spend time with the people you love, and treat people with dignity and class, because you never know when your time will come.

click here for: The 2004 Article written in the Durango Herald and Review