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NOTE: The Funky Banana® was proud to have had the opportunity to have made the cyclist jerseys for the Strength and Honor Team. The Face of America 2007 Ride is a 110-mile ride from the Gettysburg Battlefield to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda. Candid photos and story of the event follow. Thanks guys! … for taking The Funky Banana across America with you!!! ;0)
FACES OF AMERICA
"I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor."
Henry David Thoreau
On the way to Gettysburg, I was beginning to wonder what I’d gotten myself and my 14-year-old son, Gabriel, into. On a whim, I decided to join a biking team put together by a friend from church to ride in the Face of America 2007, a 110-mile ride from the Gettysburg Battlefield to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda in support of athletic events that include both able-bodied and disabled athletes. I wanted to do something meaningful with my son before the teenager he was fast becoming was too cool to hang with mom. Now, sitting in the van with serious cyclists, listening to what I think was English, but reminiscent of sitting in airports overseas, I was beginning to be afraid—very afraid.
“Have you seen the new high modulous carbon frame?”
“I recommend the pro-level Ritchey bar and stem.”
I’m a runner by calling. If you discuss mile splits, pronation and the wall, I’m with you. Before this weekend, if the conversation contained words like carbon forks, peleton and break away, it could have been a discussion about atomic engineering, as far as I knew. Our team captain, perhaps seeing my eyes glazing over, gave me an article from a biking magazine which provided some context, but when we arrived to a sea of bikes and more sleek-looking cycling types, my trepidation settled in for a nice long evening, becoming especially comfortable when our helpful teammates evaluated my antique Cannondale (a casualty from a friend’s divorce) and our other gear.
“Wow! I haven’t seen this in a LONG time.”
“I think I have tape for the handle bars.”
“This helmet is missing a piece.” (A runner, not a cyclist, remember?)
Fortunately, they are princes among men and, very patiently and to the exclusion of their own preparation routine, got me and my son ready for the next day.
Marines, never lacking in esprit de corps, put together a terrific and moving ceremony that moonlit night. We slept in a large tent on the edge of the vast Gettysburg battlefield; a fitful sleep at the top of a hill where, 130 years earlier, Confederate General Pickett buried 17,000 of his men. As an old Marine Corporal reminded us that night, we were indeed on hallowed ground. (Come to think of it, sleep probably should never be comfortable in such a place.)
Cold and stiff, (I think “invigorated” is the military word) we started out on a beautiful sunlit Saturday morning, my fears evaporating with the April dew and every turn through the Gettysburg battlefield. Our pace was set by those on hand bikes, and it wasn’t long before the profundity of the experience replaced any lack of confidence. The next 30 hours were unforgettable. Conversations came in snippets, just like conversations during a marathon: only as long as both people were at the same pace. Oddly, it was like life on a small scale: you meet people for a time, they leave an impression, and you part ways.
The Faces of America I met were:
A nine-year-old boy, enthusiastically riding his heart out for a brother, lost in war, that he would never know except for the memories of a six year old;
A man who had accomplished what few in our world have done, summiting Mount Everest, his blindness seemingly less of a hindrance to that climb or this bike ride than the merest of annoyances;
A father whose grief flashed briefly but starkly in his eyes when he spoke of a son lost three years ago;
A reporter with a world of stories and experiences behind him;
An off-Broadway theatre-owner;
A group of strong, enthusiastic women from Connecticut;
Fellow active moms with whom I found comforting, humorous common ground on the subjects of family, sports and jobs;
A gifted musician, finding inspiration for his art in the gravity of the experience;
An enthusiastic, sharp-witted man, paralyzed two years before I was born in a jungle far away; in his early sixties, stronger on his hand bike than many of us with full use of our legs.
Then there were the almost eerie scenes, reminiscent of war: hardened faces; hurried drags on cigarettes in the rain between legs of the ride; and a bloodied body by the side of the road, urgently attended to by fellow riders.
Most compelling were the reasons for the ride:
A quiet young marine from Tennessee, his shy and smiling face belying the tragedy that took his legs less than 12 months before;
An unconquerable spirit, enthusiastically riding with hard metal pins protruding from his leg and ankle and scars the length of his war ravaged body from an IED, eager to tell of his miraculous recovery, perhaps not realizing that his strength of spirit alone was inspiration;
Young men on hand bikes with fierce determination born of an unwillingness to be conquered by that which is beyond their control.
Terrible scars. Missing limbs. Sightless eyes. All trivialities that pale against the radiant wholeness of an indomitable spirit. How appropriate to call it the Face of America.
Gabe and I finished the ride, tired, but thrilled with the accomplishment. We plan to have our hoops, carbon forks and gear wheels in working order come next spring.
For information on this ride, or how to make a donation to this worthy effort, please visit the World T.E.A.M. Sports website at www.worldteamsports.org.
Photo Highlights
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The Funky Banana, Inc.
71 Veterans Highway North · Huntingdon, Tennessee 38344
731-986-4844 · (Fax)731-986-4857 · 800-251-7179(TOLL FREE)
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