With only a few days remaining, I awoke this morning reflecting on all the wonderful people we have met along the way. Pat in Seattle who gave us her personal map of the city. The hotel manager in Yakima who sat with us for an hour examining routes. The dozens of restaurant owners whom allowed us to use restrooms and fill water bottles even though we weren’t paying customers.

With only a few days remaining, I expected that we had exhausted our opportunities for beautiful interludes with strangers. (As an aside, I’ve been thinking recently about the effects of adopting a mindset that strangers are simply friends we haven’t yet met).

But just as I began to think that there might be some finiteness to the goodness in the universe, the universe went and proved me wrong.

Before setting out for today’s ride into San Diego, Jason and I had picked a campsite near downtown as a destination. Approximately 20 miles outside the city, Jason (riding a little behind me) ran into a fellow cyclist, Jim. The two of them soon caught up to me and we learned that Jim is retired and cycles this far north every week or so to pick up some of his favorite ground coffee. He told us the route into the city can be a bit confusing, and since he was headed back home anyway, he offered to guide us to our campsite.

A lifelong resident of San Diego, Jim provided a fantastic tour of parts of the city we’d never have seen had we gone alone. As we passed a little girl around 5-years old with curly, blond hair falling down her back and her mother near La Jolla Cove, Jim commented playfully to the mother that her daughter must be the original Goldilocks. I rarely talk to passersby while I bike, so this gesture made me smile. Not more than a minute or two later, we headed inland and passed a young female jogger who was being verbally harassed by a drunk, homeless man. The woman picked up her pace nervously. As we approached, Jim called out, “You’re OK now ma’am!” We rode with her until we were assured that she was safe. I’m not certain if it was the way in which he said these things or just the aura he carried for a 68-year-old, but Jim had me convinced that he must be a noble superhero in day clothes. I kept waiting for him to rip off his plain clothing and reveal the bright spandex bodysuit underneath. I felt so honored to be chauffeured by this unsung hero of San Diego.

As we approached the campsite, Jim decided—after a brief call to his wife—to offer us a bed in his home for the night. He and his equally charming wife, Barbara, took us out to dinner and welcomed us into their home. So excited by our journey, Jim plans to ride with us tomorrow to the Mexican border.

At a time when I felt least prepared for it, Jim has reminded me that there are heroes all around us. Heroic deeds need not be extraordinary feats; they can be every day feats done in an extraordinary way.

Posted on October 9th, 2007 by Derrick
Filed under: Uncategorized