Harder'n'Hell 50

As the ride kicked off, I looked over and wondered how he was going to finish. A few months before, he bought a bike at the same time I was picking up my new wheels. The most significant difference was he bought a mountain bike whereas I bought a road bike. Mountain bikes are good for the mountains. Road bikes are good for, you guessed it, roads. Through some casual prodding from Kevin and I, and indeed against his own wife’s wishes and far better judgment, he had agreed to ride the 50 miles. Abe had committed, and as the twenty some thousand riders kicked their stands up and clipped in, he wasn’t able to back out.

With only one twenty mile ride under his belt, the only thing he had going for him was his tenacious, persistent, never give up mentality. His bike wasn’t indeed built to take him fifty miles in one ride, but God made Abe for the distance.

I first met Abe and his smiling fiancé Allie when they walked into our life group a couple of years before. From the beginning, both of them had such a definite glow about them, and it was contagious. I’ve wondered at times if they are androids with some fusion happiness reactor built inside of them. Abe was doing well in pilot training until he had unexplained pains. With frustrating doctor visits, worsening pain, and inability to keep up with his training, it looked like his dream to fly in the Air Force was slipping away fast. As the doctors debated over which organ to remove to ease the pain, his class continued without him.

We all felt for Abe and Allie both. Things did not look good for his flying career. The doctors finally settled on an organ, and it helped, but it looked to be too late. I don’t know the exact details, but after visiting with the wing commander, it seems he saw in Abe what those close to him knew about him. Abe was someone that wouldn’t be defeated by a mere “setback.”

The next thing we knew, Abe was back in training, flying, and studying harder than he probably ever thought possible. Abe never complained. Abe prayed. Abe trusted. Abe is a man of faith. If God wanted him to fly, he would do everything he could to fulfill the dream God had laid on his heart. He told me one day that he would leave it all on the table and if God wanted him somewhere else, he would provide him with a bigger dream. I know it was trying for Abe. But I also watched Abe “ace” through what was an impossibly narrow situation.

God made way for Abe to fly. I still get chills when his wife Allie posts the videos of him taking off in his B-1 bomber. For a guy who looked like the door had slammed in his face over something he couldn’t control, he pressed on with confidence, not unlike the three thrown in a furnace for refusing to worship Nebuchadnezzar. Essentially, if God wanted Abe to fly, then God would make way for Abe to fly, but even if there weren’t a way for Abe to fly, That wouldn’t diminish God’s power. Abe knew God is still God.

The B-1 carries a very serious payload. I told Abe one time, that it seems that when the B-1’s are sent out, the situation is about to get real serious! There are many incredible men and woman who fly our B-1’s, but I’m convinced there is no one MORE trustworthy with that responsibility than Abe.

Back to the ride though, I’m looking over and wondering at mile one how he’s doing. He nearly collapsed after the twenty-mile test ride we did a few weeks before. For a guy who usually makes smart decisions, I thought to myself, this isn’t going to count on that list. Plus, Allie I’m sure was already prepared to give him the look of “mmhmm… I told you it wasn’t smart” to which I’m all too familiar from Tabby.

Instead of floundering and just stopping as many would have, Abe would not only finish the ride, but he would end with a smile. I guess he took his PT seriously. Fifty miles in the Texas heat, on a flat road, with a mountain bike is no small feat. But given what I knew about Abe, I laughed that I ever doubted he could do it. With faith like that, it didn’t matter what bike he was on. He would have figured out how to finish with a flat tired unicycle. He didn’t spend his time wishing he was on a different bike. Well, maybe he did a bit, I’m not sure, but he didn’t verbalize those thoughts. He rode the bike he had even though it wasn’t made for the road he found himself on. Abe pressed on without complaining for one second.

Life is kind of like that bike ride. This weekend is the Hotter’n’Hell Hundred. For some of us, the ride has started, and we realized that our bikes aren’t what we hoped they were. Maybe you started with a great bike, and you find yours a bit beat up with a wobbly frame midway through. The beautiful element about a seemingly miserable ride from the outside looking in is that the riders choose to enjoy the experience, and most of all finish the ride. Some are racing, but most aren’t. It’s about finishing together. Not only that, its about meeting that smiling little girl or proud wife at the end of the ride. It’s about being an encouragement to those around you, carrying others with your smile and words of affirmation like Abe did, even when things were tough.

My bike has a defect that the mechanics don’t understand. It has made the ride a little more challenging than expected. I’m going to go as far as I can on this ride and look forward to the burger with my little girl at the end. Aubrey still wears the participant medal I was given at the end of the ride. That picture is a constant reminder there is a lot to ride for and to never give up, just like Abe taught me in August of 2015.