The Meaning of a Dash

This has been an interesting, rest-filled week of recovery from cycling. For the first time in the last couple of months, I slept until I woke up without an alarm - unless, you count the crash landing Punkey made in the bed as she bounced against me. It was back to the office and a couple of 14 hour days to catch up and realizing I might not ever achieve that. Some of my cycling pals from Saint Mark got together Thursday and humored me with time to share this experience with them. And last night, Carol and I reunited with old friends, Millie and Jean, and went to The Normal Heart at Saint Mark. As I stood reading the names of Saint Mark members we have lost to AIDS, tears streamed down my face and I turned to Carol and said "You have to support me. I HAVE to pedal."

For years - literally years - I have prayed, wrestled with, and with frustration tried to figure out what my purpose is. The only thing I knew for sure is that I don't want to leave this world being remembered as a hard worker and good accountant. I kept asking, what will the dash on my tombstone represent - as the birth year and death year are simply a day in time, but the "dash" represents a life lived. What I didn't know, until now, is that during all those years of questioning, I was being prepared for this journey. Perhaps my first step, over 8 years ago, was landing at both Saint Mark and Emory. Then my close friend and colleague, David Hanson, asked me to ride just 35 miles in the AV200. I told him he was crazy and I didn't even own a bike. Then I joined the Athletic Club Northeast and got into spin class. Then I asked David to take me bike shopping. And now, here I am.

AIDS has robbed my generation of millions. At a time when we are now assuming the leadership reigns of the country and global community, we do so without the creativity, the imagination, the ideas, the solutions, of 38 million people born within 10-15 years of my birth year and many of those are your friends. Their "dash" wasn't nearly long enough. We will never know who different the world might have been if we could have been blessed with their influence. We have all been robbed.

To many, this journey seems crazy. I receive the warnings of burn-out, of the toll on my body and the toll on my time with openness. You are right - this is hard. Sitting on a skinny bike seat for hours, day after day, is not always fun. Training can be lonely and other life commitments don't go away - nor should they. Perhaps that's why God gave me some really important gifts - tons of energy and passion and a good support network around me from friends, to colleagues, to bosses, to doctors, to therapists - and I'm not afraid to call on them or any of you! Your willingness to follow these posts and drop me notes of encouragement is a big fuel source for me. Thank you!

Seeing The Normal Heart last night was so moving. As I mentioned in an earlier post, these wonderful performers took on a tough, personal topic and transformed it to touch our hearts. I cannot imagine how challenging this was for them and it is difficult to relay my level of appreciation to them for taking this on. A friend involved in the play wrote to me and shared this: "One thing strikes each time: though set in the early 80s in the beginning of the AIDS epidemic when no one knew just what this "plague" was, it is still so relevant. The American philosopher Santayana famously said that "those who do not understand the past are condemned to repeat it." And I think how in the U.S. the current greatest increase in infections is among the young. And across the world how many families continue to be devastated by this disease (and children orphaned)."

Yes, I HAVE to pedal. It's the one small thing I can do. Thanks to each of you for pedaling with me - either virtually or actually on the road. There's always room for more.