Word Off

Once upon a time, I was a member of the international public speaking club, Toastmasters. However, I have not given a speech or done any other formal public speaking since 2010. That changed Thursday night.

Inspired by a friend who recently returned to acting after an equally long hiatus, I decided I would participate in the Word Off; an annual spoken-word event held here in Terlingua. This year’s venue was La Kiva and it was standing room only. I was a little nervous, but that soon fell away as I started to speak. Below is the content of my speech.

Hello everyone, thank you for coming out this evening. My name is Alex and as some of you know, I like to ride my bike, a lot. I’ve put down miles all over America, Canada, the British Isles and even Peru. As you might expect, I’ve met many people along the way. Tonight I’d like to tell you a few of their stories.

The winter of 2010/11 I rode my bike 3500miles from Spokane WA to the Pacific coast, down through California, then headed east, finishing here, in Terlingua TX.

At an RV park somewhere in southern Arizona, I met Ron. In the summer of 1939, at age 13, Ron and his three friends rode their single-speed balloon tire bicycles from Chicago 500miles to work as farm-hands for the summer somewhere in Kansas. Despite being questioned by state troopers who suspected them of being runaways, they completed the ride, worked all summer, and rode home with money in their pockets. Ron would forever be a hard-working man and a dedicated cyclist. As someone on his first tour, it was so uplifting to have this old timer tell me such a heart-warming story. And I needed the lift. Earlier that same day, I had met Gordon.
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Riding along the Interstate, I had pulled over at one of those lifeless little rest-stops which offer little more than a bit of shade from the sun. The only person there was some guy sleeping on a pic-nick table with his bike leaning next to him. Eventually he got up and walked over. The man who approached was dishevelled, clearly homeless. His teeth were black and rotting; his hands and fingernails equally as foul; his clothes soiled like none I’d ever seen. He could have been 45 years old, he could have been twice that. Introducing himself, he smiled cautiously, we shook hands and he told me his story. On a day like every other, Gordon was a kid without a care in the world. That morning, like always, he rode his bike to his best friend’s house for the ride to school. Walking into that house, Gordon’s life changed forever. The night before his friend’s father–who had recently returned from serving in Vietnam–had massacred the entire family. Mom and three children shot to death, father having taken his own life. There was blood everywhere. Gordon, also age 13, was the first to discover this gruesome scene. “It really fucked me up, man. I’ve been riding my bike around the country ever since.”

The following summer, I toured England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales. One morning, outside the seaside town of Troon in Scotland, I met Laurence. A stout, smiling, middle-aged man, we rode together and he told me his story. As a child, Laurence spent many happy days riding across the Scottish country-side. As adolescence turned to adult-hood, the bicycle was left behind for other interests. It would be another thirty years before the bike would return to feature in Laurence’s life. In October of 2005, Laurence went to the doctor for a routine check-up. Except, there would be nothing routine about this visit. By the end of the day, Laurence had learned he had testicular cancer. “My whole world caved in” he said, “I felt myself shrinking into the seat, the doctor’s voice just an echo. My mind was totally numb. “I’m finished, totally finished”

Within 24 hours, he’d had surgery to rid him of the “silent assassin.” While successful, it would not be the end of the battle, in fact, the toughest days were still to come. Like many who are stricken with cancer, Laurence’s psyche and emotions suffered greatly. He felt very alone. “All sorts of things run through your mind, things you want to forget.” With the help of his wife Fiona and a few dear friends, Laurence eventually got back on the bike. Turning the pedals one at a time, Laurence found himself riding more and more. He got fit; he set and achieved goals; he got involved in cancer fund-raising and patient counselling. In 2012, he completed the gruelling 900+mile End-to-End bicycle ride from the southernmost tip of England to the farthest tip of Scotland. In fact, he recently bought himself a fancy new carbon-fibre bicycle. Oh yeah, and today he is still free of the “silent assassin.”

Three days later I was packing my gear onto my bike at the home of David and his family, just outside of Glasgow. A smiling, bald, heavy-set man, I’d met him and his son a few weeks earlier in England and they offered me a place to stay. All of a sudden, there was a cheer from the kitchen. I walked in to see what all the fuss was about. They were all smiles, David’s the biggest. “Today I am half the man I used to be!” After years of driving to work, sitting in an office, sitting on the couch watching TV, smoking cigarettes and eating huge fatty meals, David weighed 400lbs. At some point, he and his equally obese wife decided to change things around. They started walking, then riding bikes, eventually riding to work every day and weekend rides with their son. They changed their diets completely. Although David still smokes, he knows that is next to go. That morning, David had weighed himself; “200lbs, half the man I once was!” We all cheered again.

One of my earliest childhood memories is the day my father taught me to ride my red Raleigh bicycle without training wheels. I remember riding across the soccer pitch, turning around, riding all the way back, promptly falling down right in front of him. I was four and a half and I’ve been a cyclist ever since. A passion for cycling is the greatest thing my father ever gave me, a passion we shared together. On the bike I have found pain, suffering, health, happiness, my people and my soul. If you have kids, I implore you to teach them as early as possible to ride a bike…and then go ride with them.

Through Ron, Gordon, Laurence, David, Kt, my father and so many more, I continue to learn the value of the bicycle. And not just as a means of transportation, but as a means to living. And that’s my story; just trying to live my life, one turn of the pedals at a time. Thanks.