Lovely.

” Ajmal’s the fastest handcyclist here. He’s a war veteran- had a permanent spinal cord injury while serving in the Pakistan Army during the India-Pakistan border conflicts in the 80s.”

“Michael had polio, he’s pretty fast himself.”

“And that’s Fungus. He’s a living miracle. He’s paralysed from the stomach down because he got shot 7 times by muggers. He’s my friend and makes fun of me all the time, calls me Doctor Hannah Montana-don’t ask me why. He runs the Handcycling Association of Singapore.”
If you were there with me last sunday, this is how I would’ve introduced you to the 5 handcyclists competing in the biking segment of a triathlon series, the 5 handcyclists whom some of us volunteers were assigned to escort for the 60-kilometre race for safety reasons so other able-bodied riders wouldn’t bump into them.

60 kilometres. When I heard the race distance, I wondered if I would make it. 60 kilometres may be nothing for an athlete but you must understand, I am not a sportsperson. But, thinking about how these amazing overcomers had conquered fear, stigma, pain and self-doubt, how they had carved a new life for themselves through sports, how excruciating it must be to power themselves over 60 kilometres using only their arms, an extremely small muscle group compared to my legs, I prayed and took off with my assigned handcyclist, Michael. And once we started, there was no turning back.

It was the most amazing race of my life, in spite of the ugly safety-marshall vest. Not least because it was for a meaningful cause, not least because of the breathtaking scenery on a hot sunny day but because of all the lessons God taught me through this:

– Before and after the race, many people were fussing over the handcyclists, helping them get prepared and be ready. And it was not long before I found out that the girls were the handcyclists’ wives and girlfriends. There was something about the women’s sacrificial and genuine love which awed me. Something about their spirit which was large enough to accept a partner with such an obvious disability which gripped me. The handcyclists had wives and children and the same things you and I long to have, too.

I learnt and saw for myself, that love has no boundaries.

-In the sporting arena, one does not need to look far to spot arrogance. Proud bikers make their presence known with their casual mention of their 8000-dollar bike, lethal sunglasses and a 300-dollar attire. There is a cockiness about them, and they size you up immediately. In their presence, they can make one feel like a toenail. The handcyclists and the other volunteer cyclists, however, were different. They had just as much reason to boast about their sporting prowess, yet there was something about their humility which struck me hard in the face, the kind of humility only suffering and compassion produces.

And when I saw that, I learnt, that how we choose to live with our gifts makes or breaks us.

– As we cycled, the sun was scorching mercilessly. And at some points, Michael was far behind me, tired and weary from hand-pedalling. Just watching him and the other handcyclists press on was inspiring in itself. But Al and myself cheered him on all the way as we biked with him, and we had much fun joking, laughing, enjoying the amazing scenery of open skies and fields of wild lallang, and screaming our lungs out as we braved the wind and sun. “Come on Michael! We’re only a whisker away from the finish! We’re gonna hunt those riders down!” We were far slower than the other professional bikers, but we were happy. We were giddy with pain and joy. It was exhilarating.

I learnt, that on a journey, friends can make all the difference.

Michael and my legs on my humble roadbike

– When we finally passed the finishing line, there was that look of utmost glee, exhaustion and gratitude on Michael’s face and he held my hand, saying excitedly, “I couldn’t have done it without you! This is my first race ever in my life, and I can’t believe we did 60 kilometres for my maiden race!” He’s over forty but his eyes shone like a seven year-old’s. And when those words left his mouth, they stunned me. For it was only then that I realised, it was my first ever bike race, too, and I couldn’t believe I finished the 60 kilometres either.

60 kilometres. Oh, don’t we love the smell of pain.

Remember, because of a phobia, I never cycled free by myself on two wheels till last October. I had a bicycle-less childhood. So I could scarcely believe that just months after I had picked up roadcycling with the help of many, many friends, I was riding in a club and in a race. I remembered the many friends I had met from my roadcycling group and like-minded peers from school, who voluntarily took the time and effort to come personally to my home to coach and teach me, even deliver bike parts or help fix my bike whenever I needed help.

“ I couldn’t have done it without you,” he kept saying over and over. And I said in return, “I wouldn’t have done it without you, too.”

I learnt how much we need one another.

At that point I was too happy for Michael to cry but looking back, pressure builds back behind my eyes as I think about how much roadcycling and this race have taught me- humility, friendship, cameraderie, sacrifice and surrender. It broke the old chains which the previous races had shackled me down with, giving me freedom to enjoy and luxuriate in the peace of racing and riding free.

That night before I lay in bed to sleep, a floodgates of tears opened as I felt the profound love of God envelope me. Months ago, when I had to give up signing up for races because God was dealing with my pride, I was a wreck. But just when I had surrendered my false idols to Him, He blessed me in turn by opening a door for me to volunteer in a race for a good cause. I didn’t plan for it, didn’t even train for it. But just when I least expected it, He opened the door so widely for me (I’m usually unavailable on sundays but on that sunday, all my appointments were cancelled and my church had a saturday service for me to attend) that I could only see it as a sign of His lavish love which went out of the way for me so I could enjoy His gifts.

Oh how He knows the desires of our hearts, and gives them so freely to us when we desire Him first.

It sounds silly, I know- but isn’t that how much God loves us? That He cares so much about every detail of our lives that He would go the distance for us? He makes the skies, and the heavens, but He also made each of our hearts and our minds.

I learnt, that when we give up, He gives doubly. That when we use our gifts to do good to others instead of simply feeding our pride, the joy is all the greater. That when we take delight in God, He gives us what we so deeply desire, and more.

That His love is oh so sweet.

Michael and Fungus, thank you for giving me a reason to ride. You two have impacted me in ways you don’t know.

And thank you God, for freeing me,

for the beautiful weather,

and for loving us the way you do.

So deeply, and extravangantly.

Michael holding my hand in victory for his maiden race

the smile of victory and glee

It was the loveliest ride, truly.

“Trust in the Lord and do good;

Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.

Delight yourself also in the Lord,

And He shall give you the desires of your heart.”

– Psalm 32:3-4

*photos courtesy of Mickey