Raining. 54 degrees. Man, did I want to ride this morning. Days like today are the days that I relish as a cyclist. Every other cyclist that I know probably saw the forecast last night or looked out the window this morning and said, "I can wait till (insert qualifier here)." I determined when I saw the forecast last night that I was going to be out in the midst of the wet, the cold, the traffic that wasn't expecting me, the glory of God. On days like this I feel like a real cyclist. Days like this test my resolve and build my discipline as I also strengthen my body for the season ahead.
I was thinking about ten miles into the twenty five mile ride about a ride I made last year. On that ride, I was going to go about 55-60 miles and knew that I had a window of opportunity early in the day, after which, it was supposed to storm with a pretty good chance of lightning, hail and even a tornado watch. I thought I had a better than even chance of beating it and left the house with a route in mind. As I headed northeast of town, I began to watch dark, menacing clouds in the distant northwest.
Everything was going according to plan as I pushed past 10 miles, 15 miles, 20 miles. As I began to approach the 25 mile point, the realization struck that I was not going to beat the storm home, especially if I finished the full length of the ride I had planned. I formulated a new game plan in my mind. I recognized that the storm front was forming in an arc from dead west of where I was to dead north of where I was and was moving in like a net to catch me. I decided that if I headed back on the route that I had just ridden (west and then south), I would be heading straight for a section that would probably catch me about 20 miles from home. If I headed south instead before turning west, there was a chance that I could beat the worst of it (which seemed to be to the north), leave myself with less miles to ride in the storm, and hopefully get home wet, but otherwise unscathed.
I flew south with as much effort as I could afford and the plan seemed to be working well. About 15 miles to my destination, I reached a section where I had to do about a three mile stretch west before I could head south again and felt, with some confidence, that I would be on my way south again before it got bad. I was about one mile east of my left hand turn to head south when I saw a lightning strike dead in front of me just a few miles off. This strike was huge and I knew that the thunder to follow would simply confirm my visual assessment.
I don't know how etched in your memory the explosion of the Death Star in the original Star Wars trilogy is, but I remember it as a big ball of sparks that grew less and less impressive as more special effect laden movies emerged in the twenty years after the initial Death Star explosion. In the Special Edition movies that they released in 1997 though, the explosion of the Death Star was huge enough to carry with it a visible sonic blast circle that rumbled and carried with it far more impact and reverberation as you felt like you experienced it for 20-30 seconds.
This lightning strike had nothing to do with the Death Star explosion circa 1977 and everything to do with its 1997 progeny. I felt it before I heard it and it continued to rumble and vibrate the air around me for what seemed an eternity. I knew the road I needed next was one mile ahead of me and that there was a chance I could beat the storm front if I had enough power left in the legs.
Now, the wind to this point had been out of the north-northeast (my habit is to start a ride into the wind and let it help me home). I gave everything I had going straight west. About 400 yards before my road, the front hit me. Immediately the wind changed from about 12 mph from almost behind me, to about 30 mph from almost dead in front of me. I went from riding at about 21 mph to 9 mph in a heartbeat and knew that I was in big trouble. This was still early in the year, so dust from the fields began to kick up in my face and I felt the first wet offering of the day's forecast. The temperature dropped about ten degrees and I pushed on until I hit the road south. The wind was now somewhat at my back and I used what little energy I had left and my former enemy now turned ally (the wind) to hammer south away from the brunt of the storm. Rain fell harder and in sharper drops. Before long, small pieces of icy hail were pelting the skin on my legs as I continued on.
Thankfully, the farther south I got, the more it let up and by the time I hit my last stretch into town to the west, all I had to contend with was the cold and rain and I was able to get home safely.
When I saw the lightning strike, I had some options. The two that I would have considered the strongest were to a) forge ahead on the path in front of me until I reached my destination or b) turn tail for Van Buren where I might have been able to find some shelter until the storm could blow over. Obviously, I chose the former.
Here are some of the problems with the Van Buren option: 1) It would have actually been backtracking somewhat and would have placed me farther from my goal (home) 2) There was no guarantee that I would have made it to Van Buren before the storm hit 3) People in Van Buren probably wouldn't look to favorably on a smelly, slightly overweight, thirty-something clad entirely in lycra who thinks that a pickup truck isn't God's gift to transportation 4) The storm was supposed to last the rest of the day and into the night, so there was no guarantee that it would let up enough for me to begin again 5) Having Amy pick me up from a bike ride is to admit failure and should only be reserved for those times when I have run out of options with a flat tire, bent rim or other mechanical failure that makes it impossible to continue.
What does this have to do with anything?
While the Israelites were in captivity in Egypt, they prayed for deliverance. God came through and not only got them out of the land of bondage, but also promised them a destination. When they began to wonder if they would make it to their destination, they began to pine for Egypt. They began to consider turning tail and winding up farther from their destination. I can almost hear them saying, "This is getting too hard. It's too far. Why don't we just head back to Van Buren." They thought about going back to a people that would have been less than receptive after the plagues and the drowning of their army. They would have had no guarantee of a second chance to start off for their destination again. Ultimately, it would have cast God as a failure, unable to do that which He set out to do.
To sum up: when you know your destination, sometimes it’s just best to push through adversity to get there.
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