THE LOVE OF CYCLING

By Debbie Bulloch






Today was the last day of the 2015 Tour de France. Cycling junkies all over the world, myself included, will be experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms. No daily updates of epic mountain battles, no more pictures of riders suffering while riding faster than any of us mere mortals will ever ride, no more videos of violent, bone breaking crashes. It is going to be a very long time until next July.

To a non-rider it is difficult, indeed it is impossible, to understand the attraction, the strong hold that cycling has for those of us who ride. Ask ten different riders why they ride and you will get ten different answers. Some ride for health reasons, some ride for the thrill of going from Point a to Point B under one's own power, still others ride for the thrill of competing against other riders.

As for me, I ride to escape the travails of daily life. Riding my bike I am like a mythological creature, half human half machine, sinew metal and carbon joined together in one single organic form, propelling me forward to the only real freedom I know.

But along with the freedom that cycling offers, there is a darker side that all riders acknowledge but will not talk about: death is cycling's silent companion.

That point was driven home last weekend during the 2015 Tour du Mont Blanc. Le Tour du Mont Blanc is a one of the most difficult cycling events open to amateurs. It is a one-day race where cyclists must ride 330 kilometers (205 miles) and climb over 8,000 meters (26,246 feet) all in ONE day of punishing, mind-numbing, leg crushing riding. The ride start in France and crosses into Switzerland and Italy before returning to France. Three countries in one day of riding...only in Europe.

My good friend Arcabulle and two of his riding friends signed up to do the Tour. For months the three of them faithfully trained together, riding through rain, heat, wind, snow--up and down the local cols (mountains). Three musketeers riding on top of their carbon frame steeds ready to conquer Mont Blanc. They set out together on Saturday July 18, three friends enjoying a ride together. They rode strong, up and down five cols, some of the hardest and most breathtaking climbing in all of Europe. They rode, enjoying the camaraderie of friends united in a common quest.

It was a beautiful day of riding and the three friends were well within their goal of completing the race in the allotted time frame of 17 hours. Then, before the climb up to the sixth col (there were only two other climbs left) tragedy struck. One of the three friends was felled by a massive heart attack. 

Arcabulle was riding a couple of minutes behind when he realized that his friend was down on the side of the road. All around there were people trying to give medical assistance to the fallen rider. But in spite of extraordinary measures, Arcabulle's friend died while being transported by med-evac helicopter. He was only 57 years of age, a married man and father of three children.

 As Arcabulle recalls it, he held his friend's hand and tried talking to him while resuscitation measures were being performed. Arcabulle vividly recalls the deadly pallor on his friend's face and the empty expression in his eyes. It is hard to imagine a more devastating set of circumstances than seeing your friend, your riding buddy, slip away from life right in front of your very own eyes.

The Tour's official page reported the following:

Hommage a Philippe.  Philippe nous a quitté ce Samedi suite à un malaise cardiaque sur le Tour du Mont Blanc. Nous souhaitons adresser notre soutien et toutes nos condoléances à sa famille, ses proches et ses amis.

Translation: Tribute to Philippe.  Philippe has left us this Saturday following a heart attack on the Tour du Mont Blanc. We want to send our condolences and our support to his family, relatives and friends.

The death of one cyclist touches all cyclists, their death diminishes all of us in the cycling community.  Philippe was a brother of the cog, he was a brave and strong rider--Philippe was one of us, he was family.

Dors en Paix - Rest in Peace Phillipe. May you always climb with the wind at your back.

MY LOVE FOLLOWS YOU WHERE YOU GO...

By Debbie Bulloch



It has been three years since my last blog post where I wrote about the Tour de France and my friend Arcabulle's courageous ride in one of the stages of Le Tour. A lot has happened in those three years; most of it has been good. Sadly, however, there has been some bad as well.

Last month my beloved Ray (aka Pensative Bedlam in Second Life) passed away after a brief, but valiant battle against cancer.

 I met Ray in SL and from that very first meeting, we became inseparable soul mates. Ray and I shared much in common: a love of romantic movies, a love of Sinatra songs, a love of bad puns, a love of Corgis and, most important, a love of writing seemingly endless e-mails where we poured each other's heart out.

 And this is what made our relationship so special. Ray and I never met each other in "real life," yet we shared so much here in Second Life and through our e-mails that it felt as if we had known each for all of our "real" lives. Our relationship was not based upon physical intimacy; rather, our relationship was based on a deep emotional intimacy. And because we could not touch physically, our relationship was far more powerful than if we had been able to touch each other and be physically intimate. Our feelings dwelt on an emotional and intellectual level--and that made it sweeter and purer.

 Ray was a sweet man who did not have a mean bone in his body. He spent most of his adult life helping others, mentoring them and guiding them through life's shallows and unseen reefs. Ray was a good man, his death will leave a huge, gaping hole in the lives of all the people that he touched, including me.

 In one of his last e-mails to me, when he knew that our time together was coming to an end, he wrote this:

 "Now about grandchildren - When you have those grand babies about if you can truly do this, please do so.

When watching Casablanca, tell them that you knew of a man like Rick. A man who loved a woman with a deep and true passion. Yet a man who had to surrender it for a cause much greater than his personal happiness.

When watching Space Cowboys, tell them that you knew of a man like Hawk. A man who loved a woman with a deep and true passion. Yet when a "job" had to be done, he did it, though it cost him everything.

When watching The Princess Bride, tell them that you knew of a man like the farm boy. A boy who set out to become a man for the woman he loved. A man who kept his promise and loved only her and came for her.

When watching Secondhand Lions, tell them you knew of a man like Hub. A man who took a bad situation and did the best he could out of it. A man who risked his life for those who could never repay him in anyway. A man who love a woman with such passion that the average "flea" would never comprehend it.

But only if you can actually say it."

My beloved Ray, when I do have grandchildren, I will gather them around me and I will tell them about a man who loved me truly and deeply, a man who gave me all of his heart and soul but never asked for anything in return except that I hold his hand, a man of modest means but rich beyond measure in all the things that truly matter, a man who always walked a true and righteous path, a man who knew how to make me laugh till I cried and a man who made me feel happy and wanted in the all-too-brief time that we knew each other.

 Good-bye my dearest Ray, my love will always follow you where you go.