Drizzling, cold rain kept my drive along Pacific Coast Highway a soggy mess. “Poor cyclists”, I thought as I passed what looked like a race. Ugh - What a DREARY day for a race! The longer I drove, the more I realized something was DIFFERENT about these cyclists. Sure, some had the lean, hard Lance Armstrong bodies one comes to expect in a bicycle race.
But most of these folks were different. A number looked like weekend warriors, puffing as they edged up the hill entering Laguna Beach. Pudgy legs, tummies over the handle bars, and gray hair matted down under blue and white pointed hard plastic helmets. Some were young adolescents, peddling in bravado ahead of the adults. A couple hundred riders of different ages, sizes, shapes, and colors.
“What’s going on?” I thought as I tried to peer through the beat of the windshield wipers. A number of observers stood by the side of the road cheering, waving and holding up posters that looked none-the-worse for the rain. BEAT MS!!! “Oh,” I slowed down, waved, and gave a thumbs-up.
It was a ride to raise money for multiple sclerosis—that scourge of a disease that turns life into a complicated, never ending battle to just move. Every week, some 200 people are diagnosed with MS. I passed a team of six wearing identical jerseys “SPOKES people in the fight against MS.”. Spokes? I get it: Bicycles!! I laughed out loud and gave them a thumbs up and a blown kiss as I passed. It became a GREAT day a race—the human race.