Respect: Why I Ride Pelotonia

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I ride to respect those who fight.

I'm out. I'm free. The specter is behind me, consigned to history.

I'm lucky! I'm blessed.

Others aren't. I ride to respect them—their battles and their struggles. I ride because I can, and because they inspire me to be more than a survivor. They inspire me to thrive.

Jessica Vs. Cancer

I'm out for a spring ride. It's a cold day; I'm dodging rain. I see a woman ahead of me—definitely not your typical cyclist. She's laboring on the flat, and she's approaching a hill.

I pull up and we chat. And everything changed.

Some people radiate warmth. She's that people. Joyfully, she rode. Smiling, she spoke. When I left her, I no longer felt the wind. The rain? What rain?

Weeks later I saw her again. Riding. Laboring. Smiling. And everyone around her was smiling, too.

Soon I knew her story. Jessica P. lost her liver to an incredibly rare form of cancer: primary hepatic neuroendocrine carcinoma. She received a liver transplant. While it saved her life, it did not stop her fight. She lives daily with the chronic nature of the disease.

And she smiles.

And she radiates warmth.

Part of her healing is hugging. Big hugs. Enthusiastic hugs. Not back-breaking hugs, but hugs that connect.

You know the type. Not many people give them. To give one is to share one's self—to extend, to express a kind of love and need and vulnerability that is as poignant as it is gentle. It's wordless, language-free. It's a gift.

And it's a hard gift to receive. It makes you vulnerable. To receive that gift in the spirit with which it was given means you accept the moment...that precious moment when two people connect, sharing time, space, and spirit.

It's beautiful.

Jessica hugs. She hugs a lot. And she inspires me.

Recently, I saw photos of her in a hospital gown. She was getting tests. She battles on, yet she smiles.

I ride to respect those who fight.

I ride for Jessica and her fight.

I ride because you don't have to save a life to change a life.

Facing Chemo

Robert Houser Photography

I'm facebooking (Yep, it's a verb...). An image appears and stops me dead.

The eyes. Haunting and strong. Vulnerable and loving. Placid.

She's looking at me with wisdom—with secret knowledge. She's peering through me. She has taken my measure, and she has found me...

Facing Chemo is a photographic project that exposes the emotion of those undergoing chemotherapy. While the drugs target cells, the treatments effect people—the persons within and without.

Unadorned, exposed, vulnerable, the subjects share their beauty, strength, fear, resolve.

As it happens, I know the photographer. We went to school together many years ago. He's a good person. I had no idea he became an artist. I'm awestruck.

Robert Houser Photography

Months later, I'm facebooking. An image appears and stops me dead.

These eyes are knowing—direct. Maskless, guileless.

Accepting, content.

Her name is Kim.

She's beautiful.

She lost her battle.






 
I ride to respect those who fight.

I ride to respect those who fight, knowing they may lose.

Respect...


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