Shortly after I spoke about Karen and James at the Havdalah service during the Israel ride, one of the other participants approached me to offer his condolences. He also asked me how often I think about Karen. It was, truth be told, an odd question to hear. Rather than say anything about the question, I simply replied: "When I wake up in the morning, Karen is the first thing to cross my mind. Later, when I am laying in bed waiting for sleep to come, she is the last thought that I have. Between those two moments, however, she is in my constant and continued thoughts, as is James." It is not about how often I think about her and him, but how often I don't.
Lately, I (and perhaps others) have noticed that my posts have had a bleakness to them and maybe the impression has been given that the thoughts I have of Karen are in some way sad ones and that in turn it may be these sad thoughts that contribute to my feeling. Quite the contrary. My thoughts tend to be of the wonderful things during our all to brief time together. I don't talk necessarily about specifics because some are private, personal treasures I keep for myself while many others are of such seemingly ordinary and nondescript moments in time that to share them would be trite but for the circumstances as they are now. These moments, which I think about constantly, are things like driving to Long Island, New Jersey, or the Adirondacks with Karen in the passenger seat, shoes off and feet on the dash board; walking to PS 321 in the morning; watching her prepare to break in pool and then the graceful follow-through where she extends the cue upward part ballerina, part hustler; or the calm expression on her face and glowing skin after finishing a Yoga class. These are just a small glimpse of the hundreds, if not thousands, of beautiful memories that fill my mind between my waking thought of her and moment before I drift off to sleep.
In the last couple of days, however, I have been thinking a lot about the day she died. Unlike how I've previously been thinking about that day, these thoughts have been about everything we did before that horrible moment. All the fun and love we shared in those final hours. Of course there was no way to know (at least not cognitively) these would be our last moments together, but even without the events later in the day they are some of the happiest I can recall.
As I written about before, the day started with brunch at my mother's apartment. As we were getting ready to go downstairs (my mother lives in the same apartment building as we did) I noticed Karen was putting on a dress and her high boots and mentioned to her that it was just a casual brunch with my family and that after we were just going to run some errands. Her response was classic Karen. She didn't care how the other mothers and expectant mothers in Park Slope dressed on a Sunday, she was going to dress in style. Her style. With that we were off to brunch.
Brunch was really special. At the time, my brother and his family was living with my mother while their new house was being renovated. Because of this, Karen and I saw them and my mom quite often. But on this particular day my father and step-mother had come from the upper west side for brunch. I don't know what the occasion was, or if there even was one, but when we walked in my entire family was there. Karen and I easily slid into the conversation and commotion that, pleasantly, marks meals and gatherings in my family. It was a traditional New York Jewish brunch with bagels, lox, herring, etc. Karen and I spent at least an hour or two basking and enjoying the time. Eventually, however, we announced we were going to leave to take a walk and run some errands.
I can remember nearly ever step and word of conversation we had. From our apartment we walked down Carroll Street and turned right on Seventh Avenue. At Union Street we made a left so that we could pass by the Park Slope Yoga studio and pick up a schedule of classes. Our thought was to run our errand and be back in time for a class before going out for my birthday dinner with my family.
When we got to Sixth Avenue we turned right. We walked and talked, passing PS 282 where I accompanied Karen last year to watch a coral concert being performed by several of her students. Then we stood at the intersection of Sixth Avenue and St. Marks Place looking at the building on the corner. The second floor of which had at some point been converted into a commercial space that stood vacant. We debated first what kind of business we, if we could, would open in the space and then whether the window were true bay windows or some other architectural style. Our conclusion was that no, the windows weren't bay windows and a funky coffee shop would be a fitting business (this despite a cafe of sorts being on the first floor).
Our destination was Pintchik Hardware store on Bergen Street and Flatbush Avenue where we were going to look at window treatments and paint colors for the renovation of Karen's apartment at 75 Henry Street. It had been our intention to sell it and find a two bedroom apartment in Park Slope, but the market being what it was (and is) decided it would be more prudent to renovate it and live there for a couple years until the market rebounded.
Pintchik was crowded, as you would expect on a weekend. We spent a little time looking at paint but then while I was ordering some samples for my brother, Karen went to the window treatment section. She returned a few minutes later to tell me there wasn't much of a selection and she found only one that she liked. She wouldn't tell me which one it was, but rather asked which one I liked. I wandered through looking at each one, settling on a Roman-esque cotton blind. It was the same one that she picked. That was how we were together. Without even trying, we almost always picked the same things. It wasn't that we selected thinking what the other one would like or want, but rather it just happened organically. The things I liked were the things she liked and vice-a-versa. This would happen at restaurants, stores, and many other times when there were choices to be made; it was quite uncanny.
Done with that errand, we walked down Bergen Street toward Fifth Avenue. Some how fittingly, next door to Babeland (an adult store) is Bump, a materinity clothing boutique. As most people who knew Karen know, she wasn't one to take herself shopping so as we passed the store I suggested we stop in and see if there was anything she liked. She had only moments earlier mentioned how much she preferred wearing dresses now that her belly had gotten so big with James. As first when we went inside she took a cursory turn through the racks, chatting away to me the whole time, and said she found nothing. However, on a second, slower sweep of the store she started finding things, and things, and more things. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the designated dude-chair while Karen tried on dress after dress, all the while having the saleswoman/owner of the store find different sizes and styles. She was in rare form, truly enjoying shopping and getting a kick out of each new dress she put in the we'll-take-it pile. All in all we bought six dresses that day.
Dresses in hand, we wandered along Fifth Avenue. As I mentioned, we had dinner plans for the evening but we were both feeling a bit hungry so when when we walked by Bogota Bistro we decided to go in for a bite. We'd looked at the menu several times before but always chose to go someplace else, each time saying that next time we would try it. Well this was next time.
We ordered a couple light dishes to share: a pair of empanadas and bowl of tortilla soup. Both were amazing. The empanadas were served with a creamy garlic sauce and spicy pico de gallo, which we both ate with impunity. I had a Colombian beer, Karen water only. Toward the end of the meal I took a picture with my iPhone of the beer and sent it to a friend who moved from Colombia to Queens when he was young. In my message I made a comment about sitting and enjoying such amazing Colombian cuisine and beer without ever leaving Brooklyn.
I was all smiles. Karen was absolutely glowing. We sat making small talk, staring at each other, stealing a kiss or two across the table and holding hands.
The bill came and everything changed.
Regardless of everything tragic and painful that happened from that point forward, all the memories and emotions leading up to that moment continues to fill my heart with absolute joy and unparalleled love.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Some days things just get worse
This weekend was a tough one for me. The six month mark (I'm loathe to call it an anniversary) took a toll on my on Saturday. Then, on Sunday, when I tried to get some work done, I entered into a new world of panic attack that I never before knew. First I became stressed over the work I had to do and all that went along with it. As a relief, or so I thought, I decided to take a walk in Prospect Park.
After a few minutes of sitting on Karen's bench I continued along the path until I got to the baseball fields. There I ran into my brother and nieces who were finishing/starting their games. For a little while my anxieties subsided, but then as I began home a new and intense level of panic began flooding over me. At first I thought I was getting chilled since it was a bit cold as the sun set, but as it increased I realized that the shivering, numbness, and near paranoia that was taking hold of me was something altogether different.
As soon as I got home I took a long, hot shower. Still feeling chilled I put on thermal underwear - top and bottom - and sweatpants and shirt. Capped off with wool socks. Feeling slightly warmer, and a little like a neurotic Michelin Man, I climbed into bed at 8:30 and was asleep almost immediately. It wasn't the most restful night sleep I've had, but I was able to sleep through the night and wake nearly 11 hours later.
I felt better in the morning. Not good, but better. It is all about increments I'm finding. I could write an entire entry about work and my frustrations there, but suffice to say that I made it through yet another day. But what I found in my mailbox when I got home pushed me back to where I was over the weekend.
Junk mail sucks and bills are generally bad enough. Advertisements for baby products and free Similac samples I'd thought were the worst. Nothing, however, compares to getting the proof of Karen's and James' grave marker for final approval. I felt the air literally suck out of my body and but for the kitchen counter to grab hold of I'm not sure my legs could have held me up much longer.
So there I was, standing in the kitchen, the waves of pain from the prior 48 hours, not to mention the prior six months, hitting me square in the face while looking down at the proof. It was difficult to see the plaque on the bench, but this was a magnitude more of despondency. Just as I thought things were difficult with the weekend, work, and my general emotions, this arrives and throws everything down a couple levels.
I think a hot shower, thermals, and sweats might have to happen again tonight and just maybe tomorrow will see an increment back upward for me.
After a few minutes of sitting on Karen's bench I continued along the path until I got to the baseball fields. There I ran into my brother and nieces who were finishing/starting their games. For a little while my anxieties subsided, but then as I began home a new and intense level of panic began flooding over me. At first I thought I was getting chilled since it was a bit cold as the sun set, but as it increased I realized that the shivering, numbness, and near paranoia that was taking hold of me was something altogether different.
As soon as I got home I took a long, hot shower. Still feeling chilled I put on thermal underwear - top and bottom - and sweatpants and shirt. Capped off with wool socks. Feeling slightly warmer, and a little like a neurotic Michelin Man, I climbed into bed at 8:30 and was asleep almost immediately. It wasn't the most restful night sleep I've had, but I was able to sleep through the night and wake nearly 11 hours later.
I felt better in the morning. Not good, but better. It is all about increments I'm finding. I could write an entire entry about work and my frustrations there, but suffice to say that I made it through yet another day. But what I found in my mailbox when I got home pushed me back to where I was over the weekend.
Junk mail sucks and bills are generally bad enough. Advertisements for baby products and free Similac samples I'd thought were the worst. Nothing, however, compares to getting the proof of Karen's and James' grave marker for final approval. I felt the air literally suck out of my body and but for the kitchen counter to grab hold of I'm not sure my legs could have held me up much longer.
So there I was, standing in the kitchen, the waves of pain from the prior 48 hours, not to mention the prior six months, hitting me square in the face while looking down at the proof. It was difficult to see the plaque on the bench, but this was a magnitude more of despondency. Just as I thought things were difficult with the weekend, work, and my general emotions, this arrives and throws everything down a couple levels.
I think a hot shower, thermals, and sweats might have to happen again tonight and just maybe tomorrow will see an increment back upward for me.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Six Months
Six months ago today was the worst day of my life.
Six months ago today my wife, my love died in front of me.
Six months ago today I became a father only to be told my son died.
Six months ago today I fell on the floor in tears.
Six months ago today my family, overcome by their own grief, enveloped me with their love and support.
Six months ago today I last kissed Karen, caressed her hair, felt her skin against mine, and wept.
Six months ago today I felt my life ended, my future lost, and the world crashed down around me.
Six months ago today I sat numbly in my rabbi's office vainly trying to make sense of what happened.
Today, six months later, I still cannot make sense of what happened and live day to day with the horrible memories of that day, memories which I press out of my mind however temporarily by remembering the indescribably wonderful fourteen months we had together.
Today, six months later, I am living - getting out of bed each morning and trying to create something new from the shards of the shattered life I once had.
It is hard, but I press on with my journey.
It is what she would have wanted me to do. It is what I need to do to honor her memory.
I miss her so much.
Six months ago today my wife, my love died in front of me.
Six months ago today I became a father only to be told my son died.
Six months ago today I fell on the floor in tears.
Six months ago today my family, overcome by their own grief, enveloped me with their love and support.
Six months ago today I last kissed Karen, caressed her hair, felt her skin against mine, and wept.
Six months ago today I felt my life ended, my future lost, and the world crashed down around me.
Six months ago today I sat numbly in my rabbi's office vainly trying to make sense of what happened.
Today, six months later, I still cannot make sense of what happened and live day to day with the horrible memories of that day, memories which I press out of my mind however temporarily by remembering the indescribably wonderful fourteen months we had together.
Today, six months later, I am living - getting out of bed each morning and trying to create something new from the shards of the shattered life I once had.
It is hard, but I press on with my journey.
It is what she would have wanted me to do. It is what I need to do to honor her memory.
I miss her so much.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
2009 Israel Ride, post script -- the sand storm
One of the crew members from the ride found these pictures of the dust storm that cut short our final day of riding. They were taken by a pilot flying at about 8000 feet near the city of Be'er Sheva, about 90 miles north of where we were riding. We were told during the pre-ride safety briefing that sand storms can occur 5 to 10 times a year in the Negev, but one like this hadn't been seen in many years. The height of the dust/sand wall was approximately 4000 feet and it was moving at almost 40 miles per hour. The storm originated in the Sinai and covered the entire Negev.
Its pretty obvious when you look at the storm why the decision was made to suspend the ride until the worst of it blew past us. Of course that decision didn't prevent dust and sand from infiltrating nearly every part of my bicycle, which has a date with the technicians at Dixon's for an overhaul and cleaning.
Its pretty obvious when you look at the storm why the decision was made to suspend the ride until the worst of it blew past us. Of course that decision didn't prevent dust and sand from infiltrating nearly every part of my bicycle, which has a date with the technicians at Dixon's for an overhaul and cleaning.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
2009 Israel Ride (Part Two)
Well the ride is over and what a ride it was. Challenging both physically and emotionally, yet rewarding in incalculable ways. I am still - and will I'm sure continue for many days, weeks, and months - processing the trip and what it has meant for me as part of my healing, but here's a little of what the final two days of riding had in store for us....
Day 4 - Shabbat at Mitzpe Ramon
We spent a well deserved day of rest at Mitzpe Ramon, which was ended with havdalah service at the edge of the maktesh. Even though the sky wasn't as clear as one would have hoped, it was an awe inspiring sight to watch the sun set over the expanse of the maktesh and see the desert around us change in color.
Before havdalah began, people were invited to share thoughts of theirs from the three days of riding or anything else that was on their mind. While I had talked about Karen and James with several people on the ride individually, I had been hesitant to bring it up in front of the group because I didn't want to spoil the festive mood that was prevalent on the ride. However, as we sat there reflecting on the past days I felt moved to open my mouth. I choked the words out to the group, telling the story I've told so many times in the past months. It was as tough as it ever was to talk about it, but I'm glad I did. I was immediately embraced by several people and over the remaining days so many more - if not every rider and crew member.
Day 5 - Mitzpe Ramon to Kibbutz Ketura (57 miles)
The day of riding began with a group photo from the top of the maktesh.
After we were done, the ride crew spaced our start to allow for intervals between riders on the downhill. Needless to say that in some cases, me included, those spaces quickly evaporated. How could I have not let myself enjoy the fun of a long downhill with several exciting switchbacks? It was a great way to begin the day!
After a short rest at the bottom to allow all the riders to re-group, we started off across the maktesh. The weather stayed a bit overcast, which helped keep the temperature down somewhat throughout the day.
The riding day had us going through some amazing terrain as we headed deeper into the Negev and the stark bareness of the terrain became increasingly wonderful to see. In addition to the monster downhill to begin the day, we rode along rolling hills -- giving us additional downhills, many coming with warning signs of their steepness.
But the cautions of steep grades were not the only signs we began encountering. Since much of the Negev is used for military training purpose, there was ample warnings against leaving the road and venturing anywhere beyond.
We made sure to keep on the safe side of the signs.
The day ended as it started with a great, long, and fast downhill into the Arva Valley. Across the valley were the hills of Jordan, obscured by the unusually hazy weather.
As great of a downhill as it was, some of us - me included - would be climbing it the following morning to begin the final day of riding. The evening, however, was devoted to rest and relaxation as we were hosted by Kibbutz Ketura, home of the Arva Institute. The hospitality shown by the kibbutz was exceptional. After a quick dip and lounging by the pool with a cold Goldstar beer, we attended a outside dinner of exceptional food, drink, and warm spirits. It almost made me forget about the morning's uphill.
Day 5 - Kibbutz Ketura to Eilat
As I said, the killer 4.8 mile downhill we had to end the day before was to be a 4.8 mile uphill to start the final day of riding. The option was given for us to be bussed to the top of the hill and start riding from there, but I and 9 other "meshugim" riders opted to get up by our own power. I felt it was a challenge, like so many others I've been facing in these months, that I needed to at least try to do and felt confident I would succeed. The route snaked up the cliff side in a series of switch-backs that were so much fun riding down but so much not on the way up.
As hard as the climb was it actually ended up being quite doable and we made it from the kibbutz to the summit in about 40 minutes and were at the first pit stop (where the main group of riders started) in just under an hour. We made great time, but it was the last we'd make in the day.
After we resumed the ride, we were almost immediately hit with a headwind that had to be 30+ miles an hour. Over the next 15 kilometers or so, we struggled to make way averaging little more than 5 - 7 MPH. At one point I got off the bike for a call of nature break, as well as to stop the incessant howl of the wind in my ears, and could barely keep from being blown over by holding onto a sign post. It was some of the worst wind I've ever encountered on my bike or off.
We made it to the next rest stop when the wind added a special twist by kicking up dust and sand. For the next twenty minutes we huddled behind what shelter we could, in this case bushes and shrubs, preparing ourselves to head out onto the road. Just as the lead rider with us announced that we should prepare to get riding again, vans showed up carrying members of the main group who had departed the rest stop about ten minutes before we arrived. They had made it about 10 kilometers down the road when the decision was made to return them to the rest stop because of the increasingly deteriorating and hazardous conditions. Eventually the entire group was reassembled at the rest stop and we were loaded on buses to skip ahead on the route. Along the way, however, we stopped at a point where the boarder with Egypt comes right up to the roadside. The guard tower in the distance is Egyptian and the barbed-wire fence next to me is the actual boarder.
From the overlook we continued by bus to the top of the final downhill into Eilat and it was determined by ride leaders that conditions had improved sufficiently enough for us to ride it. And what a ride it was. The downhill, like so many before, was fast with great switch-backs and curves, but most amazing of all was the view of the Red Sea below us. Needless to say, we were all smiles as we coasted toward the ride's end.
Once at the bottom of the descent the group came together for the final ride down the beach and to our hotel.
I feel like I keep repeating myself, but it was an amazing ride. In the past I've done other multi-day rides, but this one was not only better organized and supported than any I've done in the past, but was so emotionally powerful and through such beautiful terrain as to be incomparable. Not only that, but due to its size - only about 35 riders - it was easy to meet everyone and make new friends. As I said in my first post, I had come on the ride looking forward to the solitude of riding through the desert but now realize that the true reason for my riding was to meet new friends. It has also been a realization for me that despite what has happened and the losses I've suffered, that I am able - and need to for my sake and Karen's - to continue experiencing life and making new memories. This might sound obvious of a statement, but I assure you it is not something I could even comprehend a few short months ago. Now, even as I continue to miss her nearly every waking moment of my days, I understand that I must continue my life however difficult a concept and taks that may be.
Thank you all once again for your support in making it possible for me to have done this.
Day 4 - Shabbat at Mitzpe Ramon
We spent a well deserved day of rest at Mitzpe Ramon, which was ended with havdalah service at the edge of the maktesh. Even though the sky wasn't as clear as one would have hoped, it was an awe inspiring sight to watch the sun set over the expanse of the maktesh and see the desert around us change in color.
Before havdalah began, people were invited to share thoughts of theirs from the three days of riding or anything else that was on their mind. While I had talked about Karen and James with several people on the ride individually, I had been hesitant to bring it up in front of the group because I didn't want to spoil the festive mood that was prevalent on the ride. However, as we sat there reflecting on the past days I felt moved to open my mouth. I choked the words out to the group, telling the story I've told so many times in the past months. It was as tough as it ever was to talk about it, but I'm glad I did. I was immediately embraced by several people and over the remaining days so many more - if not every rider and crew member.
Day 5 - Mitzpe Ramon to Kibbutz Ketura (57 miles)
The day of riding began with a group photo from the top of the maktesh.
After we were done, the ride crew spaced our start to allow for intervals between riders on the downhill. Needless to say that in some cases, me included, those spaces quickly evaporated. How could I have not let myself enjoy the fun of a long downhill with several exciting switchbacks? It was a great way to begin the day!
After a short rest at the bottom to allow all the riders to re-group, we started off across the maktesh. The weather stayed a bit overcast, which helped keep the temperature down somewhat throughout the day.
The riding day had us going through some amazing terrain as we headed deeper into the Negev and the stark bareness of the terrain became increasingly wonderful to see. In addition to the monster downhill to begin the day, we rode along rolling hills -- giving us additional downhills, many coming with warning signs of their steepness.
But the cautions of steep grades were not the only signs we began encountering. Since much of the Negev is used for military training purpose, there was ample warnings against leaving the road and venturing anywhere beyond.
We made sure to keep on the safe side of the signs.
The day ended as it started with a great, long, and fast downhill into the Arva Valley. Across the valley were the hills of Jordan, obscured by the unusually hazy weather.
As great of a downhill as it was, some of us - me included - would be climbing it the following morning to begin the final day of riding. The evening, however, was devoted to rest and relaxation as we were hosted by Kibbutz Ketura, home of the Arva Institute. The hospitality shown by the kibbutz was exceptional. After a quick dip and lounging by the pool with a cold Goldstar beer, we attended a outside dinner of exceptional food, drink, and warm spirits. It almost made me forget about the morning's uphill.
Day 5 - Kibbutz Ketura to Eilat
As I said, the killer 4.8 mile downhill we had to end the day before was to be a 4.8 mile uphill to start the final day of riding. The option was given for us to be bussed to the top of the hill and start riding from there, but I and 9 other "meshugim" riders opted to get up by our own power. I felt it was a challenge, like so many others I've been facing in these months, that I needed to at least try to do and felt confident I would succeed. The route snaked up the cliff side in a series of switch-backs that were so much fun riding down but so much not on the way up.
As hard as the climb was it actually ended up being quite doable and we made it from the kibbutz to the summit in about 40 minutes and were at the first pit stop (where the main group of riders started) in just under an hour. We made great time, but it was the last we'd make in the day.
After we resumed the ride, we were almost immediately hit with a headwind that had to be 30+ miles an hour. Over the next 15 kilometers or so, we struggled to make way averaging little more than 5 - 7 MPH. At one point I got off the bike for a call of nature break, as well as to stop the incessant howl of the wind in my ears, and could barely keep from being blown over by holding onto a sign post. It was some of the worst wind I've ever encountered on my bike or off.
We made it to the next rest stop when the wind added a special twist by kicking up dust and sand. For the next twenty minutes we huddled behind what shelter we could, in this case bushes and shrubs, preparing ourselves to head out onto the road. Just as the lead rider with us announced that we should prepare to get riding again, vans showed up carrying members of the main group who had departed the rest stop about ten minutes before we arrived. They had made it about 10 kilometers down the road when the decision was made to return them to the rest stop because of the increasingly deteriorating and hazardous conditions. Eventually the entire group was reassembled at the rest stop and we were loaded on buses to skip ahead on the route. Along the way, however, we stopped at a point where the boarder with Egypt comes right up to the roadside. The guard tower in the distance is Egyptian and the barbed-wire fence next to me is the actual boarder.
From the overlook we continued by bus to the top of the final downhill into Eilat and it was determined by ride leaders that conditions had improved sufficiently enough for us to ride it. And what a ride it was. The downhill, like so many before, was fast with great switch-backs and curves, but most amazing of all was the view of the Red Sea below us. Needless to say, we were all smiles as we coasted toward the ride's end.
Once at the bottom of the descent the group came together for the final ride down the beach and to our hotel.
I feel like I keep repeating myself, but it was an amazing ride. In the past I've done other multi-day rides, but this one was not only better organized and supported than any I've done in the past, but was so emotionally powerful and through such beautiful terrain as to be incomparable. Not only that, but due to its size - only about 35 riders - it was easy to meet everyone and make new friends. As I said in my first post, I had come on the ride looking forward to the solitude of riding through the desert but now realize that the true reason for my riding was to meet new friends. It has also been a realization for me that despite what has happened and the losses I've suffered, that I am able - and need to for my sake and Karen's - to continue experiencing life and making new memories. This might sound obvious of a statement, but I assure you it is not something I could even comprehend a few short months ago. Now, even as I continue to miss her nearly every waking moment of my days, I understand that I must continue my life however difficult a concept and taks that may be.
Thank you all once again for your support in making it possible for me to have done this.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
2009 Israel Ride (Part One)
Three days of riding down and two to go. Today we're spending Shabbat in Mitzpe Ramon and I finally have a reliable internet connection, as well as the energy, to writ a little something about the ride. I will post something about the pre-ride visit and acitivities soon. But before I get into what has been going on with the ride, I want to thank everyone who supported me and allowed for me to be in the wonderful place, doing this amazing adventure.
Day 1 – Tel Aviv to Ashkelon (48 miles)
Set for the first day of riding
On day one, we set off from Tel Aviv bound for the seaside city of Ashkelon. It was Yom Haatzmaut (Israel Independence Day) so the city was very quite as the shofar was sounded to start the ride. We cycled through the city passing the home of David Ben Gurion, the first Prime Minister of Israel, and Kikar Rabin, the site were Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated on November 4, 1995, after attending a peace rally in support of the Oslo Accords. From there we passed the site where Tel Aviv was founded in 1909, which sits only yards away from the building where Israel declared its independence on May 14, 1948.
Our course then took us to the sea side just north of Jaffa for our first rest stop – even though we had biked a relatively short distance. We continued along the coast for a while before heading in-land. The temperature change could be felt, but it was nothing compared to what was to come. We arrived later in the day in Ashkelon, biking past hundreds, if not thousands, of Israelis having bar-b-ques in every park or strip of grass in celebration of Independence Day.
In the evening we were able to rest our weary bodies with the view of the sun setting over the Mediterranean Sea.
Day 2 – Ashkelon to Mashabei Sade (72 miles)
After a great breakfast at the Ashkelon Holiday Inn – yes, I used great breakfast referring to a Holiday Inn – we set off for day two. Unlike day one, there was no stop and go start to get our legs warmed up and we were off on the open road right away. We pulled into a rest stop at a reservoir, which provided a view of Gaza in the near distance. In fact we were about equal distance (or so I was told) from the Israeli town of Sderot, the target of many of the rockets, and the Gaza border. Standing at such a location it was once again overwhelming evident how small of a country and area is at the center of the Israel-Palestinian problems.
Gaza is barely visible in the right
Before going on with the ride itself, I want to make a mention about how great the support and crew of this ride is. I think most of you know that I rode in two AIDS rides while I was living in DC and thought those were well run, but they have nothing compared to what this crew does. Not only do they ride with us, both in cars and on bikes, but every 10 to 15 miles there is a rest stop or pit stop where we can re-fill water bottles, grab a few dates or power bars, and sit in the shade for a few minutes - and if there isn't natural shade, which is becoming more and more rare, they erect something to provide it. There is also sunblock at about every turn, which we've all been lathering on constantly. Without these volunteers there is no way any of us could survive even half a day of riding. Thank you is not nearly sufficient enough.
We left the rest stop and headed toward the northern Negev. The route climbed slightly, but more noticeable was the gradual - and later dramatic - change of climate from the fertile fields of the western Negev, fed by the moisture of the Mediterranean (as well as the treated waste water of the surrounding communities), to the dry desert of the northern Negev. As dry as we were finding the air we were biking through, it was just a harbinger of the next day, and from what we are expecting in the final two days.
In the evening we stayed at Kibbutz Mashabei Sade. There was something nice about putting my head back down on a kibbutz, even one so dramatically different than Beit Nir, where I plan to spend a couple of days after the ride. The meal was just as I would have expected from a kibbutz, a couple of meat dishes and salads, salads, salads. Most importantly was it was tasty and filling.
Day Three - Mashabei Sade - Mitzpe Ramon (45 miles plus 10 off-road)
The alarm went off again at 5:30 a.m. -- not my preferred time wake up normally -- and we were back on the road to the sound of the shofar. This morning, however, there was no large breakfast options to send us on the way but rather a snack with the breakfast down the road at our first rest stop at Sde Boker, 16 miles away. The terrain really began to change and we started hitting the first real uphills.
We rode into Sde Boker to find a breakfast spread set out by our crew worthy of any hotel we've been to yet. Sde Boker is the kibbutz where David Ben Gurion resigned as Prime Minister to live and at which both he and his wife were eventually buried.
Ben Gurion's grave
An interesting thing about his grave is that there are three dates on it: his birthday, the date of his death, and the date he made aliyah. The view from his grave site is truly spectacular, looking out over the vast expanse of the Negev, some of which were were about to mountain bike through to visit the oasis of Ein Akev.
Now I've been on a mountain bike a few times and even road them off-road a bit, but this was the best mountain biking I've ever done. Maybe not nearly the most technical or challenging course/route out there but it was certainly the most difficult I've ever been on before. There were some steep declines, loads of jagged rocks as well as fine gravel and sand (which I found was the most difficult things to ride through), and always the the heat of the desert.
But it was worth it for the amazing oasis formed by the spring at Ein Akev. Based on the reactions of those who did go into the frigid water, I chose to keep out of the pool.
After the mountain biking excursion, we had a nice lunch back near the Ben Gurion grave site before switching back to our road bikes for the 25, or so, more miles to Mitzpe Ramon. 25 miles isn't too far, except when those are spread across three fairly nice climbs - with corresponding downhills I will add. The day ended with the biggest surprise of them all, the steepest, but thankfully shortest, climb to the hotel itself. It came at me out of no where on the final turn, but it marked the end.
We spent Shabbat at Mitzpe Ramon, which sits on the edge of the Maktesh Ramon. While often and incorrectly referred to as a crater or canyon, the Maktesh is a unique geologic occurrence which offers some positively spectacular views. Unfortunately its grandeur simply can not be captured in a photograph, but here is a little taste of what it is like....
And all around the Maktesh, and even in the town, are Ibexes. These ancestors of the modern day domesticated goats are a protected species in Israel and have returned from the brink of extinction in the decades since the passage of laws prohibiting their hunting for any reason.
Tomorrow we ride down and through the Maktesh so I will cut this update off a little short to ensure I get sufficient rest for the day. I know I keep saying it, but this is a wonderful experience and I can't thank everyone who made it possible - from my donors to the staff and crew of the ride itself - for me to do it. And while when I was getting ready to do the ride I kept talking about the need and desire for me to spend some time alone on the bike with my thoughts in the desert, I have now begun to realize that another - perhaps more important reason for the ride - was for me to have the opportunity to meet and make new friends, which has happened many times over.
Shavua tov.
Day 1 – Tel Aviv to Ashkelon (48 miles)
On day one, we set off from Tel Aviv bound for the seaside city of Ashkelon. It was Yom Haatzmaut (Israel Independence Day) so the city was very quite as the shofar was sounded to start the ride. We cycled through the city passing the home of David Ben Gurion, the first Prime Minister of Israel, and Kikar Rabin, the site were Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated on November 4, 1995, after attending a peace rally in support of the Oslo Accords. From there we passed the site where Tel Aviv was founded in 1909, which sits only yards away from the building where Israel declared its independence on May 14, 1948.
Our course then took us to the sea side just north of Jaffa for our first rest stop – even though we had biked a relatively short distance. We continued along the coast for a while before heading in-land. The temperature change could be felt, but it was nothing compared to what was to come. We arrived later in the day in Ashkelon, biking past hundreds, if not thousands, of Israelis having bar-b-ques in every park or strip of grass in celebration of Independence Day.
In the evening we were able to rest our weary bodies with the view of the sun setting over the Mediterranean Sea.
Day 2 – Ashkelon to Mashabei Sade (72 miles)
After a great breakfast at the Ashkelon Holiday Inn – yes, I used great breakfast referring to a Holiday Inn – we set off for day two. Unlike day one, there was no stop and go start to get our legs warmed up and we were off on the open road right away. We pulled into a rest stop at a reservoir, which provided a view of Gaza in the near distance. In fact we were about equal distance (or so I was told) from the Israeli town of Sderot, the target of many of the rockets, and the Gaza border. Standing at such a location it was once again overwhelming evident how small of a country and area is at the center of the Israel-Palestinian problems.
Before going on with the ride itself, I want to make a mention about how great the support and crew of this ride is. I think most of you know that I rode in two AIDS rides while I was living in DC and thought those were well run, but they have nothing compared to what this crew does. Not only do they ride with us, both in cars and on bikes, but every 10 to 15 miles there is a rest stop or pit stop where we can re-fill water bottles, grab a few dates or power bars, and sit in the shade for a few minutes - and if there isn't natural shade, which is becoming more and more rare, they erect something to provide it. There is also sunblock at about every turn, which we've all been lathering on constantly. Without these volunteers there is no way any of us could survive even half a day of riding. Thank you is not nearly sufficient enough.
We left the rest stop and headed toward the northern Negev. The route climbed slightly, but more noticeable was the gradual - and later dramatic - change of climate from the fertile fields of the western Negev, fed by the moisture of the Mediterranean (as well as the treated waste water of the surrounding communities), to the dry desert of the northern Negev. As dry as we were finding the air we were biking through, it was just a harbinger of the next day, and from what we are expecting in the final two days.
In the evening we stayed at Kibbutz Mashabei Sade. There was something nice about putting my head back down on a kibbutz, even one so dramatically different than Beit Nir, where I plan to spend a couple of days after the ride. The meal was just as I would have expected from a kibbutz, a couple of meat dishes and salads, salads, salads. Most importantly was it was tasty and filling.
Day Three - Mashabei Sade - Mitzpe Ramon (45 miles plus 10 off-road)
The alarm went off again at 5:30 a.m. -- not my preferred time wake up normally -- and we were back on the road to the sound of the shofar. This morning, however, there was no large breakfast options to send us on the way but rather a snack with the breakfast down the road at our first rest stop at Sde Boker, 16 miles away. The terrain really began to change and we started hitting the first real uphills.
We rode into Sde Boker to find a breakfast spread set out by our crew worthy of any hotel we've been to yet. Sde Boker is the kibbutz where David Ben Gurion resigned as Prime Minister to live and at which both he and his wife were eventually buried.
An interesting thing about his grave is that there are three dates on it: his birthday, the date of his death, and the date he made aliyah. The view from his grave site is truly spectacular, looking out over the vast expanse of the Negev, some of which were were about to mountain bike through to visit the oasis of Ein Akev.
Now I've been on a mountain bike a few times and even road them off-road a bit, but this was the best mountain biking I've ever done. Maybe not nearly the most technical or challenging course/route out there but it was certainly the most difficult I've ever been on before. There were some steep declines, loads of jagged rocks as well as fine gravel and sand (which I found was the most difficult things to ride through), and always the the heat of the desert.
But it was worth it for the amazing oasis formed by the spring at Ein Akev. Based on the reactions of those who did go into the frigid water, I chose to keep out of the pool.
After the mountain biking excursion, we had a nice lunch back near the Ben Gurion grave site before switching back to our road bikes for the 25, or so, more miles to Mitzpe Ramon. 25 miles isn't too far, except when those are spread across three fairly nice climbs - with corresponding downhills I will add. The day ended with the biggest surprise of them all, the steepest, but thankfully shortest, climb to the hotel itself. It came at me out of no where on the final turn, but it marked the end.
We spent Shabbat at Mitzpe Ramon, which sits on the edge of the Maktesh Ramon. While often and incorrectly referred to as a crater or canyon, the Maktesh is a unique geologic occurrence which offers some positively spectacular views. Unfortunately its grandeur simply can not be captured in a photograph, but here is a little taste of what it is like....
And all around the Maktesh, and even in the town, are Ibexes. These ancestors of the modern day domesticated goats are a protected species in Israel and have returned from the brink of extinction in the decades since the passage of laws prohibiting their hunting for any reason.
Tomorrow we ride down and through the Maktesh so I will cut this update off a little short to ensure I get sufficient rest for the day. I know I keep saying it, but this is a wonderful experience and I can't thank everyone who made it possible - from my donors to the staff and crew of the ride itself - for me to do it. And while when I was getting ready to do the ride I kept talking about the need and desire for me to spend some time alone on the bike with my thoughts in the desert, I have now begun to realize that another - perhaps more important reason for the ride - was for me to have the opportunity to meet and make new friends, which has happened many times over.
Shavua tov.
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