Roll on...

In 2001, Turtle and I were conducting our long-distance courtship and doing our part to keep TWA in business. A typical visit had me catching a flight to St. Louis on Thursday after work. We'd spend the weekend trying to soak in as much of each other as we could before Turtle dropped me off at the airport and send me back to Texas on Sunday afternoon. It got to be pretty routine, but there was one Sunday at the airport that sticks with me.

I was making my way briskly toward my gate when an athletic-looking young man blew past me in a wheelchair. And then two more, hot on his (w)heels. It was the sort of thing that caught my attention in those early days of getting to know my favorite wheelchair athlete, and I wondered what their story might be. But I didn't have to wonder long. When I arrived at my gate, I found the same three boys and about another half dozen besides, all milling about in wheelchairs and carrying duffel bags on their laps.

A basketball team.

Having put Turtle on a number of flights, I knew the early boarding drill and wasn't at all surprised when the whole pack of them headed down the ramp to board the plane about 15 minutes before the rest of us were called. Eventually, it was my turn to shuffle down the narrow aisle of the plane to my seat. Shuffle a few steps. Wait. Shuffle. Wait. Wait.

I craned my neck to see what was holding up the line. Instead of the usual clueless traveler trying to shove a foot locker into the overhead compartment, the hold up was young man hauling his heavily-braced legs down the aisle and laughing as he harassed a couple teammates already in their seats. A fifty-ish man ahead of me twisted in his seat to scowl at the boy.

“All right, that's enough,” he said firmly. “Find your seat and park it.”

The boy in the braces smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Coach.”

The line started moving again, and I realized that I had the window seat next to the coach. I paused for a moment, giving him a chance to pull his legs back or half stand to let me by. When he did neither, I glanced down and noticed his wasted legs – at about the same time as he caught me at it.

That's how I met Jim Hayes, coach and founder of the UTA Movin' Mavs wheelchair basketball team.

During the flight, we had a very interesting conversation. He told me about his work with the team and about the tournament they were returning from. I told him about Turtle and her wheelchair racing.

Last evening, I was watching the news and learned that Jim Hayes had passed away this past Saturday, after a brief illness.

This evening, Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Spears were in the news again, and it struck me as very unfair that such shallow, wasted lives seem to get all the attention and that truly worthwhile, inspirational ones go largely unheralded. I know that this posting won't do much to balance the scales; but a little additional recognition for a life well spent is the least I can do for Coach Hayes. If I feel richer, having only spent an hour with him, I can only imagine the impact he must have had on the lives of those who really knew him.

The long and winding road '08

As I look back on last year's post-ride report, I can see that I waxed rather poetic about my first MS 150 experience. This year's ride, though no less deserving, won't get quite the same treatment mostly because it's more difficult this year to find the time to wax.

Last year, we had rain the first day, high winds the second day, and generally gloomy weather all weekend. This year, we had two beautiful sunny days, and the winds were relatively kind to us. Even on the first day, when we bucked a headwind for the first half of the day, at least it was the first half of the day. The weather was slightly cooler this year, which balanced the sunshine and made for very comfortable riding weather.

If it sounds like I'm spending a lot of time talking about the weather, maybe it's because as I type this, the view out the window of my office building is of heavy rain, dark as night except for frequent flashes of lightning. This could have been our fate for the MS 150 – but it wasn't.

I can't say enough good things about my Wheeler Dealer teammates and the time we spent together on and off the road. My plan when I recruited Mr. and Mrs. Strada to ride with us this year was to form a three-Bacchetta juggernaut. I always have a blast riding with those two, but while they spent the first few months of the year doing long-distance rides in excess of 100 miles, I spent my weekends and evenings sequestered at a keyboard, desperately trying to keep my head above the alligators. So the bad news was that I was in no shape to keep up with them for the MS 150. The good news was that I fell in with Squirrelly Girl and a couple of our new team members and had a great time with them for the better part of both days.

This year, there were eight of us all together as we rolled into the Ft. Worth city limits, and it was an incredible feeling to finish those last 100 yards to the finish as a group. Our tireless manager shuttled us off to stow the bikes on the truck and see to our carbohydrate replenishment needs before heading back to the finish line to cheer our remaining two teammates across the finish line.

I've struggled all year with my climbing and was feeling pretty apprehensive about the second day and those nasty hills I remembered from last year. But in the end, the only half hill I had to walk was the same one I had to walk last year. The same ones I ground my way up last year, I ground my way up this year. My first day rolling average was within a tenth of a mile per hour of last year's first day, and thanks to the lack of a 25 mph headwind my second day average was actually .7 mph faster this year.

So, another 157.4 miles under the wheels. More importantly, I was able to raise nearly $945 for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society – nearly double last year's total.

Correction...

I received my accounting statement yesterday, and it shows my fundraising total to be $977. Maybe someone sneaked a check past me by sending it directly to the MS Society.