Working with the struggles of my weekend spent on a pilgrimage

(Sorry, I have not posted for several days due to my ride and head cold.)

From Dictionary.com:

Pilgrimage – noun
A journey, esp. a long one, made to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion: a pilgrimage to Lourdes.

I spent this weekend with 75 people on the Buddhist Bicycle Pilgrimage, touring four different Buddhist centers (and Buddhist traditions) over three different counties north of San Francisco. 134 miles later, I am happy to report that I made it -- despite a bad cold, 103 degree heat, leg cramps, hills, and running out of water. Thanks to the active support and encouragement of all the volunteers that supported us, including the organizers, SAG and pit stop staff, cooks, van drivers, monks, and my fellow riders. Like the AIDS Lifecycle rides, this is a community gathering. Most riders, including me, felt the pilgrimage was fun, beautiful, spiritual, challenging, and at times, very hard.

My distinct flavor of “hard” started the night before we left, when I realized that I coming down with a cold and needed a decongestant in order to breath comfortably and sleep. After 4-5 restless hours, I awoke at 4:30AM on Saturday morning but didn't know if I was well enough to ride. So I picked up two other participants (including my fun-meister friend, Phil, who was a volunteer), checked-in at the registration desk, and began cycling at 7:30. Despite feeling slightly feverish, I decided to participate, especially after the head monk gave our group a rousing dharma talk about working with the “grim” moments that would naturally arise over the next two days on the pilgrimage.

Off we went, and for the first 10 miles, I quickly found it tough going, coughing up a lot of phlegm as I charged up the hills in my typical “take San Juan”-style (as a cyclist, hills are my thing). This scared me at first because I started to realize that I might not make the whole ride. But gradually, mile after mile, my lungs stabilized and I found a good and strong cadence. I so loved the cool mist of the morning and beautiful west Marin setting that I rode the first 50 miles by myself, out in front of everyone. I just cranked out mile-after-mile, purging my cold symptoms and some emotions about recent business disappointments.

After lunch, I asked a group of the three fast riders if I could ride with them, in order to socialize more. What I didn’t know was that we were about to the leave the moderate climes of the Pacific coast for the scorching heat of Sonoma. I tried to stay with my fast riding friends, but after about 15 miles or so, I let two of them ride ahead while I struggled along with the heat. We did know this at the time, but we were riding faster than the organizers could set up the next rest stop, so my group got separated and lost. I ended somewhere on West Dry Creek road, alone, out of water, and suffering from combination of heat stroke and dehydration. I was in such bad condition that I stopped and asked two by-standers if they had any water and if they could dial my phone to call one of the ride organizers (yes, I was that dizzy). I was vulnerable and needed help despite that I am a big, strong cyclist. By seeing the expressions on their faces, these two women were very concerned about me, immediately going to a nearby farmhouse for a thermos of ice-cold water. With this and by sitting in the shade, it took me an hour to cool enough off to finish the last 10 miles of the ride.

Having been raised by a Marine Corp-trained dad, I was determined to finish the day’s ride, even if it meant walking my bike up the final, steep 3-mile-long hill. Through sheer grit and mindfulness, I made it, finally arrived at our campground and then relaxed. Despite staying in a cool swimming pool for an hour, my temperature stayed north of 100 degrees for 7 hours, and Phil worried that he might have to take to the hospital in the middle of the night. So he puts my hands and wrists in ice water and made me take some aspirin. Sometime after midnight, fortunately, my fever broke and I woke up feeling near normal and completed the ride with my small coterie of “yang” riders. While I focused on the challenges in this blog post, this weekend was mostly wonderful, with lots of interaction, quiet back roads, scenic vistas, good-hearted people, healthy food, and powerful meditations.

In hindsight, this pilgrimage is a lot like daily life, with highs and a few lows, and the ever-present opportunity to be present with “what is”, whether that be a raging fever, self-doubts, annoyance, judgments or even anger. I felt all these things during this two-day event, and was reminded of the importance of witnessing my self-dialogue, doing what is required in the moment, and relying on the strength and goodness of others. In the end, this pilgrimage brought me home, back to myself, with a softer heart and stronger legs, and into more connectedness with 74 other wonderful beings. I’ve learned that pilgrimage, like everyday life, is an act of devotion.