Bike Trip to Lake Mills, WI

Several miles and many acquaintances later, we made it. The truth is that it could not have been done without the invaluable help of all the people I met. My trip acquaintances started off with a friendly old man at Macktown Forest Preserve who assured me that there was no way across the Rock river within the park, since I had intended to bike the path that went through the heart of the green golf-course. I thanked him for his offer to tour the old buildings set back from the golf course and carried on to the bridge under construction and Rockton, IL beyond. The edge of town brought the Dollar Store and a somewhat delayed purchase of a new journal and the road to South Beloit, IL, which was again a positive experience.

St. Peter's Church left two doors open, so I walked in one and had the experience that God was calling me there. I felt extremely at peace in the church that I would not hesitate to call a chapel due to its small size. Kneeling on the marble and contemplating Jesus brutalized on the crucifix before me I realized that many of the actions I have taken in my life only served to deepen the wounds of Christ. From one to whom He has given so much, He has also taken a lot of grief. But I am learning and I look forward to what the future will hold. With a few minor changes all will be most well, and I can move on to the next of my ex-ventures.

I think the ride today really helped open my mind back up to the possibilities and my mind goes wild! I thought of Colorado and my friend's graduation, and biking and skiing out there; buying a house with a lot of land, which always increases in value, and mowing it to my heart's content; shooting at a range and learning to rope and ride like a cowboy. Biking cross-country or cross-world. All things are possible with God!

On to more acquaintances, there were the two men who used to play hooky at the high school overlooking the river in Beloit, WI and now go fishing in the pond on the other side. The rest of the beautiful river walk in Beloit and Highway 51, which took me to the gas station where a boy gave me garbage-bag to protect my pack from the rain that really never came. Oh well...

Then there was Philhower Road and the shooting range. Then peaceful Read Road lead me into Janesville. The entrance was a bit confusing as Read Road turned into Sharon Road and made all sorts of twists and turns past abandoned semi's and factories and old, seemingly inhabited houses with no one around. Then came Palmer Road and the beauty of the Janesville golf course, the park, the wading pool, and concession stand. It was here that I stopped and lunched on trail mix and water, and instead of journaling spoke with Paul and Kelly. Paul gave me all sorts of ideas for authors to read and TV shows to watch to catch up on people who have done amazing things around the globe. I look forward to trying them all. Next came Bobby’s generosity with a bit of concession stand tap water and onward.

Palmer led to Wright Rd. and the “Ice Age” bike trail. Being an aficionado of woolly mammoths I indulged and ended up lost north of Highway 14. Thanks to what was apparently a college girl taking her mother on a bike ride, I regained my bearings and promptly threw them away as I did not want to backtrack. This led to a portage of what under rainy conditions would have been very muddy land, but the rain did not start until I reached Town Line Rd. and headed north. I rode north for a while, enjoying the solitude and bucolic landscape, that is until I heard the voices. Since I was lost, as I usually am when I hear the voices, I decided to stop and ask for directions. As it turned out the neighbor Gary was as good at picking up sticks near the front of a vast property belonging to the “K” family, as Mrs. “K” was at her directions. She and Gary traded off directing me to the bikepath that parallels Highway 26, as the daughter continued staring bewildered at me. I was off. Neither she nor their golden lab ever said a word.

Subsequent events lengthened my journey for quite a bit as I went west in trying to avoid riding on the shoulder of Highway 26. I took the highway as far as Milton and then got the bright idea that I could catch the bike trail that runs along Lake Koshkonong, even farther west as had been indicated on the Wisconsin county bike trail map. I never made it to find out, but Highway 59 led to John Paul Rd. (it’s good to be Catholic!) and then on to the “Rustic Rd.” It had no other name, nor did the man pursuing his boxer in a BMW call it by anything other than “that road” in his recommendation to follow it. Rustic Rd. was scenic, and alongside of which I caught inspiration to someday purchase a large expanse of property with a small house, that I could mow and fix up to my heart’s content, and then someday sell for profit. Down the road I frightened some horses as I pedaled by, apparently they don’t see too many bikers. Rustic Rd. led to County Highway N and a phone call from a friend. By the time I took it I was on the corner of Highway 26 again, having accepted the fact that I would have to ride the busy highway after all.

Not too far along however the bike trail head appeared, and about a mile down it I took the second and final call of the day from my father. Dinner, he said, but as I did not plan to reach my destination for another two hours, I put the though of food out of my head. It should be here noted that the last time I attempted a no-handed, helmet-less phone call on this very bike, I ended up over the handlebars in a heap as my co-worker pulled up behind me and began the gentle jabbing that I did not hear the end of for the rest of the summer. Adequately prepared as I was, I took both calls flat-footed, with bike helmet secured and kickstand down. I was not taking any chances.

The trail was fun and later paved, and so all was good until it went in the wrong direction. As I headed south I contemplated how I would scale the six-foot-high, barbed-wire-topped fence, and the fact that it was probably there for a reason. Eventually the trail turned the right way and Nate the biker-pro informed that it would reach Fort Atkinson. He also had some suggestions for a scenic route to Lake Mills, but as I eased my bruised caboose onto the seat that was probably manufactured in some quarry somewhere, I decided that I would probably take the shortest route up Highway 89 N, though perhaps I was wrong again as this route took me a significant distance west. The first wrong decision came as I debated taking Nate’s route and then at the last second got back on what I thought was Highway 89. It was, but I had to stop about a mile down the road, eat some trail mix, and then backtrack to town to confirm that it was.

The pain by this time was acute, and the route, uphill. However with a few Hail Mary’s and a couple of Our Father’s, I rolled into Lake Mills at 19:45, exactly eight hours from the time I pulled out of my alley in Rockford, IL. And on the note of Rockford, my thanks are due to the man at Park Rentals (so I should say Loves Park) for the allan wrench that hoisted my sidebars, which I intended to rest on, but only succeeded in providing poor steering ability and an awkward riding position. I remain grateful however, because at the end I made it and my mother and brother Daniel were good enough to pick up yogurt and fruit, and this mixed with granola hit the spot. The night was spent in good conversation, over the phone with a couple of friends, and otherwise with my aunt and my family. It’s good to be back in Lake Mills! Oh and Mike thanks for the honey whiskey, it made a great nightcap. Mass at 8am so I am off to sleep. Sweet dreams and may the Lord protect and keep you all! HIAL ITIY

A couple of notes: this time I used spell-check so I hope that the grammar and spelling is a bit better as this is one of my longer posts; photos are to come in installment two including the bike ride home to Rockford. This one should be more reflective on the experience as opposed to so focused on the individual experiences. Cheers!

A Child-Like Blog

When it comes to blogging I have always operated on the principle that if I don't write and publish it now, it will never get published. I am amazed by those of you who have the patience to write drafts, edit them, and then later publish them in their polished form, drawing a wider readership and generating a more interesting blog. I am trying to change, but do not yet know if this is what I want my blog to be. Many thoughts have crossed my mind lately, and honestly the things that I can see more concretely in day-to-day life take precedent over anything digital. This is why I still write checks, why I enjoy basketball officiating, why I go running and made the 70-mile bike trip two days ago (updates still to come, I am also lazy when it comes to these things). And I guess it was this need for visible accomplishment that sent Mike and me to Iowa to pollinate corn. There is something satisfying in spending your day working on something concrete and tactile, and to at the end of the day be able to look back at your progress and feel satisfaction at what you have accomplished. Digital technology provides little of this, though there are some small points of satisfaction when someone writes me that something I wrote on my blog struck them, and caused them to think in a different way, but I have a hard time disciplining myself to adhere to the blog and create any sort of schedule or order to my posts. I first created this as a creative outlet, and this blog will always be just that, "the thoughts of a simple Catholic man."

I would like to expand though and ask the question whether there is something to be learned from approaching all of life this way. First of all is it possible to approach every day as a child, to see everything as if you are seeing it for the first time with all the amazement and learning that comes with it? Can we approach deadlines as we used to approach dinner-time, as a point at which we need to go if we want to eat, but do not have to go if we do not want to eat what is offered? How much do we hold ourselves down to standards and rules that someone else created and assures us will bring us the most success? I remember translating a story in which Miguel de Unamuno states that success in this world is the man who best grovels in the dirt, and pays homage to the powers in the world that be. But I see a different way. John Francis, author of Planetwalker, a book (http://www.amazon.com/Planetwalker-Change-Your-World-Step/dp/0976019205) and a non-governmental organization for environmental awareness (http://www.planetwalker.org/) one day decided that he was not going to ride in any form of motorized transportation anymore. Twenty years later he is known nationwide and is a recognized advocate on the environment, having worked with the US Coast Guard and the UN, and it all began with the simple choice to walk anywhere he needed to go. Oh and another thing, he did not talk for seventeen years either. But he survived somehow.

I think that we are capable of much more in this life than we have ever imagined, and perhaps we need to embrace the imagination of a child to reach the outer limits of possibility. Anything is possible, and in my mind every boundary should be tested, every question asked, and every rule or regulation brought under examination, for I believe we too often live beneath standards that are not of our own making and serve only to extinguish the flame of life that is inherent in every one of us. This is not to say that we should all stop talking and start walking everywhere. Each one of us must find what the child inside each of us desires, and perhaps our answers will lead us right back to where we are, and we can thank God that we are indeed where we want to be. If not however, as long as your responsibilities are covered and your dependents provided for, dream big, cast far and wide. Run toward your setting sun and chase your dreams beyond the rainbow. For our time is short and no man wants to live the life of quiet desperation. Let us seek the life we yearn for in the deepest, most imaginative part of us. Let us tap the dreams of our childhood for our passions and follow them. For these are what transform our lives into meaningful stories that change the world. We cannot start out seeking to change the world, as John Francis has illustrated by his simple decision turned world-movement, but we can only follow the spark of inspiration that lies inside each one of us until it becomes a signal fire to all others, so that we all together may lead glorious and fulfilling lives!

Thank you to John, to my good friends Jane and Peter, who have specifically inspired the words of this post. And thank you to all of you who have inspired me every day of my life, and at all difficult points in between. May God bless and keep you all, and continue to inspire you to live the dreams that lie inside you.

"Make a commitment to make the journey. Each one of us has that inside of us." --John Francis (30 Minutes interview)

Reflection on the 23rd of July

Today I lived a day very much like I would like to live every day of my life. The morning came somewhat late, but it was eased by the memory of a good time the night before surrounded by good friends in Davenport, IA, and a somewhat harrowing, but enjoyable drive home through the fog of southern IL. Morning brought immediate awakening and a conversation with my mother. It lasted long and covered our journeys of the past couple of weeks, mine to Iowa and hers to Oregon and California. It is amazing what a little inspiration can do in the heart of a free-spirit! We went on to talk about everything that was going on and I felt a great peace as I later talked with a very good friend over the phone. I spoke with only one or two other people all day long on the telephone, and it was refreshing to catch up at a leisurely pace, and not worry so much about missing out on other people's lives. With the remainder of the morning I took time to work on some computer catch up, though I did nothing constructive in the way of the work I will have to do at Kent in the coming year, nor did I do anything to catch up on the work that remains to be done for my translation internship. However after these efforts came a great dinner with family, one that I prepared with skills learned from some of the best friends I have ever known. After dinner I went running and the night was capped with a good movie watched with my brother and sister, who have been here with me almost since the beginning.

I am so blessed and I needed to reflect on this today. Too often we blaze through these situations and forget to reflect on how many blessings are poured out in the simplicity of each day. And that great things can be accomplished at a moment's notice. For today also brought what began as an ordinary bike trip to the store, and turned into an all out battle with rain-thrusting and lightning-bearing Mother Nature! I came out a bit wet for the wear, but in all loved it, howling and yelling and gliding through puddles two-inches deep! The food from what I bought on that ride made everything taste all the better. Just now I planned a bike trip from Rockford, IL to Lake Mills, WI. Why? You might ask, but I would rather like to counter that with the question, Why not? Life is too often mundane because we allow it to be so, it is up to us to make each day worthwhile and each day count in leading us to become the best version of ourselves. What have you done to challenge yourself today? How do you challenge yourself on a regular basis? What is your life leading you to become? Let us ask these questions and make our lives extraordinary!