“Life. Is. Difficult!”

Here's the bit I wrote for our trip journal, which you can follow here. Also look for some photos there!


Luke's Journal, Day 7

Today was probably our toughest to date. We put in nearly 90 miles to get from DeFuniak Springs, Florida (which boasts one of only two perfectly circular natural lakes in the world, and yes, we [unnecessarily] cycled the circumference) to Gulf Breeze, just outside Pensacola. We knew the day would be hot, and so got off to an early start, up at 0500 and rolling out on our bikes before 7AM. In the morning the wind was with us; I and a few others averaged a cool 20 mph and even with a couple stops (free coffee, used book store . . . yes!) put in almost 40 miles before stopping for lunch around 10:30.

Heading out from lunch we felt the heat building fast. Though the air temperature hovered in the mid-90s, the heat index approached 110, and we felt it. To compound our difficulties, we were pedaling an especially un-scenic, high-traffic, and gravel-ridden stretch of pavement re-radiating the noonday heat like a bed of hot coals. Agitated and saddle-sore, we regrouped for a water break and opted to cross the intra-coastal waterway and reroute across the thin spit of land between the waterway and the Gulf. It proved a good decision, as immediately the traffic died down and a broad and beautiful view of sand and sea opened up before us.

Still, the sun was on top of us and our hoped-for breeze came in the form of a bruising headwind. Our average speed sank and our legs soon felt like we were spinning our wheels in sand. As we made our way through the eerily deserted town of Navarre Beach, we noticed not just the dearth of beach-goers but a few dozen men in reflective vests patrolling the shore, looking for washed-up oil and tar balls.

If this was something of a desolate and depressing scene on an already draining day, I quickly reminded myself that in a matter of weeks our group would be facing longer rides through deserts hotter, drier, and emptier. There will still be sand, I thought, but no sign of water or wind or beach huts selling cold drinks.

We battled onward, but the strength faded from our bodies as the afternoon wore past four o’ clock. Finally, we sighted the high bridge which we knew would bring us just a few short blocks from our host, and with a burst of energy I mashed my gears to get to the top. It was at that point that the bit of adversity we had faced for the day came into perspective against the reason why we ride: we faced some unfavorable winds and weather, but suffered nothing like the troubles of those against whom our social order and prevailing economic conditions have stacked the odds and shorted their hand.

More than a few people have already responded to us with sneers and a diatribe against handouts for people “who need to do for themselves.” What they fail to realize (and what we try, respectfully, to point out) is that, first, the playing field is not level. More importantly, and to use a favorite Habitat catch phrase, what we’re aiming to accomplish is not a hand out but a hand up. The recipients of Habitat homes (funded more and more frequently with Bike and Build donations!), after a long and grueling application process, perform up to 400 hours of what is aptly termed “sweat equity.” This takes the form of labor at the construction site itself, volunteering on other H4H sites, and attending classes on financial management and the basics of home ownership. In short, the sweat expended by our 33 team members today (and that’s no small figure when every person rode every mile despite the heat, the distance, flat tires, etc.) is a drop in the bucket compared to the commitment of those who receive the “charity” we are working to offer.

As I learned on the playing fields of the Vassar College Rugby Football Club (many members of which have donated generously to this cause), “Life is Difficult!” (insert a Briton’s accent and emphasis.) Even if that is so, it is by overcoming its difficulties that we manifest life’s finer fruits, and we do it best when it’s done not just for ourselves.

A special thank you goes out to Sheryl and the Gulf Breeze United Methodist Church, which with their incredibly generous accommodations and provisions brought us like the Israelites out of the desert and into the land of milk and honey (and pleasantly raging a/c)!