Get busy living, or get busy dying.

An announcement.

Yours truly, getting pumped up for measly 40-mile charity ride.

Hello, Friends!

Raul is a new friend of mine. Joyfully active. Always up for adventure. Pushing through the physical challenges of aging with a positive “mind over matter” attitude. Last fall, in fact, Raul endured a long plane ride to South America, a ship voyage across one of the most treacherous ocean straits on the planet, then stepped out of a rubber boat and left his footprints in the volcanic permafrost of Antartica.

Quite an accomplishment for someone who’s 91 years old.

This past February—at the comparatively green age of 68—I felt like the sedentary antithesis of Raul.

Locked in my easy chair, cursing a nasty case of Covid. Cursing high fever, brain fog, fatigue, body aches. Cursing a Walgreens blood oxygen meter that seemed wildly inaccurate. Cursing the ever-present, colorless clouds outside and the sub-freezing temps. And cursing too much solitude at the wrong time of life.

A dark little pity party!

But then, luckily, on February 25th (George Harrison’s birthday), something changed: the sun came out.

Weirdly, it made me suddenly think “on the bright side.” Remembering the people I loved and who loved me. Remembering my many blessings. Remembering Raul and how many health challenges he must’ve overcome and outlasted to reach such an inspiring age.

I asked myself a question: Mark, if you were well enough to get outside right now, what’s the first thing you would do under this glorious, soul-redeeming sun?

The answer came instantly: ride my bike.

And not just a short jaunt. A long one. Peddling as far and fast into the horizon as possible.

Then, as if to mysteriously punctuate this desire, I heard in my head the faint echo of Morgan Freeman’s voice, delivering that famous line of dialogue from one of my favorite movies, The Shawshank Redemption: “Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

And that’s all it took.

I pulled myself up out of the chair. Teetered dizzily into the Vitamin-D-fortified light streaming through the window blinds (momentarily longing for a painful sunburn). Then I began thinking about my favorite road in America: the ribbon of scenic highway called the Natchez Trace Parkway. The NTP is popular low-traffic, long-distance route for many cyclists, especially in the fall when the road becomes a golden tunnel of oak and hickory leaves, stretching 444 miles from Nashville to Natchez, Mississippi.

This is precisely what “get busy living” looked like to me at the time.

Yeah, but Mark, hold on: What about that painfully crunchy rotator cuff? Those bone spurs in your neck? Your bionic knee? Your bionic hip? Isn’t this a crazy idea for someone your age? In your condition?

But when it dawned on me—quite out of the blue—that I could do this ride for the benefit of others and not just myself (as many long-distance cyclists do), it didn’t seem like such a crazy idea.

Seconds later, I was at my laptop, dragging bike accessories into my Amazon shopping cart while simultaneously researching an organization that sends orthopedic teams throughout Latin America to correct birth deformities. What drove me to Operation Rainbow is that I know what’s like to be “structurally challenged” early in life, given the fact that a freak motorcycle accident left me with a deformed right leg at the formative, self-conscious age of 14.

So now, as I write to you this afternoon, instead of feeling my age, I’m feeling something else: my oats.

God willing and the creek don’t rise, the plan (as it stands at the moment) is to do the ride next spring, during which time I’ll try to raise $5,000.00 for Operation Rainbow. According to their website, that chunk will underwrite the average cost of orthopedic surgery and post-operative care for two patients.

Yes, an idea is one thing. Execution of that idea is another. But I’m determined to keep my “preparation” wheels spinning—which will no doubt include lots of training (and moaning and Advil and Icy Hot)—right up until I push off from Milepost Zero next spring.

At that moment, I also suspect “Here Comes The Sun” will be blaring happily from my Spotify app.

Stay tuned? 🚴‍♀️ 🌞 😉

As always, I’m endlessly grateful for your readership and support!

Peace & Love,

Mark

P.S. If any of you have experience (good or bad) with online fundraising platforms, my ears are wide open!