I hope I don’t create false impressions.
When I write about fear and danger, I’m not presenting myself as some sort of hero. Riding next to an alligator-filled canal, cranking on busy highways, sharing my story with strangers – it’s true those are examples of refusing to allow fear to dictate my actions. But there’s certainly nothing heroic about any of it.
I’m just a guy riding a bike, following a God-inspired dream. I think it’s my job to remind as many people as possible of this simple truth:
If an old, bald guy in a wheelchair can do this, the world can’t wait for you to follow YOUR dream.
I’m proof that it doesn’t matter how old or how able, how many resources, how much training – none of that stuff matters. I wasn’t prepared (I’m still not). Didn’t have a plan (still don’t).
When I announced my goal to ride 1000 miles the summer after I got my first handcycle, I KNEW it was crazy. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t succeed.
I simply got out of bed each morning, encouraged by friends who also thought I was crazy, and cranked a few blocks… and then a few miles… never really believing I’d reach that magic number. Those blocks and miles accumulated, and on the very last day before school started my odometer ticked to 1000.00.
The Mississippi River ride was a lot like that. We left Lake Itasca, and as we passed the first 15 miles one of the guys riding with me exclaimed, “Hey Rich, you’re 1% of the way there!”
Turns out – doing 15 miles, then doing it again, over and over – the distance accumulates until, eight weeks later, the odometer ticks to 1500.00.
Becky and I were terrified at the beginning. Got lost, felt frustrated. Multiple times, we felt like quitting. Nothing heroic or brave or any of that nonsense.
Jesus never promised safety or security. He said, “Follow me.”