We were talking on the radio Thursday morning June 29 at about one AM. We were talking a
lot on the radios that were dispersed to each car. A lot of it was concern for Chris. A
lot was for the rest of us and the vehicles that were borrowed from the car dealership. A
lot of it was to keep ourselves awake and more aware.
Chris's cousin, Billy, and I were talking. We knew what we were
seeing. We were seeing a person that had committed to God, his family (which takes in just
about anybody that has been around him very long), a strenuous training program, a strict
diet, and a mission. The "mission" was to raise badly needed funds for
"Hospice of Mitchell County", But what we were seeing was a well-oiled machine.
As Matt said,"like a sewing machine". I compared him to Fausto Coppi. The 1940s
Italian "Campionisimo" (champion). It was said that Coppi did not show force on
the pedals as much he would seem to "tickle the pedals". "Poetry in
motion".
During a prayer break I would lay down on the floor of the
"tools" van with my hands interlocked on my chest and listen to the
encouragement from Billy Summerlin and Larry Green. It was a needed change from being
erect.
This "mission impossible", as a few might say, was a
470 mile bicycle "race against the clock" on the "Blue Ridge Parkway".
The time to beat was about 31 1/2 hours. It started last year as Chris stayed awake all
night and decided that he would challenge the record for the "Blue Ridge
Parkway" end to end. The greatly appreciated "Hospice" was behind in funds
that were sorely needed. This is what started the wheels rolling. Pun intended.
"Hospice", true to form, helped Chris assemble a crew. A "Dream Team".
A team with a dream. It included Chris's wife, Lisa, who saw to it that Chris ate right in
training and on the ride. She was mixing drinks and foods and handing off each meal. She
was dilligent from the beginning to end. She would later say"You've been there for me
and I'm there for you".
I'm not sure just where misery had tried to set in. It was
dark, foggy, and if the rain had tapered off a bit, you could call it a torrential
downpour. Chris had met MaLeah's father near mile-marker 140 which was just south of
Roanoke. About 30 people had assembled in a prayer circle. I wanted to join but instead
spray-lubed the bicycle parts and did something else but I can't remember what. Sometimes
the stops were blurs and I would do whatever I could as quickly as I could. I took several
pictures. Some times the flash would work, sometimes not. Maleah's father drove up in the
middle of the night with an empty gas tank. He Left in tears as everybody did. He ran out
of gas and coasted to a gas station still open at this hour which was beyond dark-thirty
long before. We had already dodged more deer than I had ever seen.
It was a terribly long climb out of Roanoke. Chris had MaLeah and
her parents to think about. MaLeah has already had one operation for a fast growing tumor
that is returning. she is not expected to hang on much longer. She is under the care of
"Hospice" in the Roanoke area. Chris had said that this ride would be nothing
compared to what Maleah's parents were going through. Chris had told himself that he would
not complain no matter what happened. He had already climbed over 330 miles. I remember
descending forever from the opposite direction years ago. Now Chris was climbing the
neverending mountain. The miles are a lot longer going up. The rain and fog were
relentless. Chris was shaking as he went around the curves. Chris pulled over. Everyone
tried to do a task. Massaging. Removing clothes. More food. Chris didn't look the same. To
me his facial features had changed. He was shivering. Wherever we were, at 1:00 am, on
some mountain in Virginia, in the pouring down rain, fog, deer, and lightning Chris said,
"I'm cold.". Later he would regret saying that. He said he didn't mean to
complain. Chris, son, complaining would have been more like, "Oh phooey. I'm
cold.". When you were standing there shivering and said "I'm cold" you were
just making an accurate assessment of the situation.
I know that there are different truths in this life. I am not an
advocate of one religion. Chris was immune to the absolute certain pain and misery that
any other human without his spiritual correctness and capacity for love would have. God
was not at this point making it easier for Chris. He was making Chris stronger. At one
point Chris had been 1 hour ahead of schedule. At this point he was about 30 down by
guesstimations. Chris asked if he still had the record. What else would be thrown at him?
The real deal was that God was in charge. How could he be stopped? I said yes. You still
have the record. I knew it from the first time Chris asked me if he could do it. He did
his homework. He had sacrificed and trained long and hard. He wasn't doing it for personal
glory. There was a need for it to happen. Yes, you still have the record. The entire crew
believed that Chris would have the record. No-one would have questioned Chris if he had
said "Let's come back in a week or so and do it in better weather". No one would
have thought less of this great man. No, I never doubted.
A change of clothes, food, light, lube, and prayer and Chris was
again slicing through the fog and rain and deer and anything else that would be thrown
into the arena. If you count all the deer I have seen in all my life including pictures of
deer, stories of deer, deer on television, or rumors of deer I could never believe that so
many deer were possible on the parkway. It was as if they had heard that something very
unusual was coming their way.
Chris rode through the fog and the rain and the deer. He could
reach out and touch the deer. At one point someone was talking on the radio and suddenly
let out a yell. Some of us thought that Chris had gone over the edge, the real edge, and
off the road or that he had hit a deer. So many things were possible with slick roads and
low visibility. A deer had gone between the cars. The lead cars would point out the deer,
the water, the thicker fog, sharp curves, bridge seams, potholes. and road-kills. I don't
know if much needed to be said. There was so much that Chris knew that hazards were
everywhere.
The hills in the last 100 miles were unexpectedly hard. Most were
short enough-1, 2, 3, 4 milers that work on you. Especially after 350 or 400 miles.
Throughout the "ride" everyone said the encouraging words, "you look good
Chris", "good spin Chris", "good tuck Chris", "keep it up
Chris", "you can do it Chris", "you're the man Chris". Now it was
"crunch-time". He had done everything expected of him and we encouraged him to
give us more. I tried to tell him of every hill and downhill, so that he would spend
himself on the ups and recover (as possible) on the downs. "Dig in Chris",
"gotta go Chris", don't leave anything out here Chris", "there's a lot
of love for you just down the road Chris". "let's go home Chris" ,
"you can smell the barn from here son". I probably used the term "son"
more than "Chris".
Larry and Matt, who were with me needed to get the stop watches
out of the glove-box of one of the other cars and get to the finish-line. What if he has
trouble in the last mile?", I posed. We stopped the car with the watches and Larry
and Matt got in leaving me alone in the van with the tools. It was the only way. We
couldn't take any chances.
I urged Chris to "go completely past the finish line and
then come back" (to the awaiting family, friends, and fans). I wasn't sure of his
time and I was afraid that as nice- a-guy as Chris is, he may have stopped immediately to
hug everybody there. I had seen him stop, hug, and kiss so many people and each time I
thought about how it must be a great emotional boost and that we "need to go".
All through the "trip" he was concerned with the traffic. He never wanted to
hold anybody up. Continuously he would ask us to wave the traffic around us. He was
concerned about everybody. especially his cousin Scott who had passed away, to whom this
ride was dedicated, and little MaLeah and her family. The last words spoken on the radio
were spoken by his wife Lisa. "Scott, MaLeah". There was total silence for the
last several miles. Everything was said that needed to be said. Chris never lost his
"spin". He was always around 80-90 pedal revolutions per minute. It seems
improbable to keep up those "rpm"s after 100 or 200 miles and here we are
nearing 470 miles and he's still at it. Chris soared.
The finish. I have never seen so many people so happy and crying
at the same time. I believe that everybody must have hugged everybody. I continuously
hugged people I don't remember seeing before as well as the familiar folks. Chris humbly
raised his hands to God and acknowledged that "God" had let us all see something
"special" and "magnificent".
Undoubtedly we all had needed this. We all have
seen so much hurt and disappointment. We have all seen what has appeared to be the
"good guy" overcome by the "dark forces" of this world we live in, so
much, that too often we become cynical. Here today we are redeemed. Today our hero has
unselfishly put himself aside to overcome so many obstacles and "slay the
dragon". Today, we all have been allowed to slay dragons. Today, through Chris, God
has healed us. Those who have seen this feat from this extraordiary man and those who have
heard about it and have the smallest understanding of what has transpired have had a
healing. I have been healed. My mind and my spirit have been healed. Perhaps after I have
told this story a million times it will lose some of its spark, We will see. Right now
everything seems better. Even my "weed-eating" is better.
I was asked by Chris and Lisa if I thought Chris's record would
be broken. I had to say yes. The reason is- I believe that Chris could break it. Someone
may come along to make a name for himself. I would suggest that this person be physically
and mentally fit as well as spiritually fit. No-one will beat this record with the same
conditions. No-one will do it with the panache that Chris displayed.
Chris never rode over 150 miles pryor to this event. He never
trained on the "aero-bars". He never ate and drank the concoctions mixed up for
him in the backseat of his support car. He was not a "pro". He never went
through the "fire" of a long-distance event like this one. He never used the
chamois lube before preparing for this ride. But, everything fell into place. This was
meant to be.
Toward the end when Chris left his saddle and beautiful cadence
and danced up the hills I said, "Sometimes you have to stand up for what's
right" and "sometimes you have to stand up for what you believe in". Puns
intended. He stood up for "Hospice". He stood up for the sick and the dying.
There are many circumstances that were and are occuring. I am a
witness. I will report my findings as I see them. I told Chris that he could set the
record because I could see the truth. I didn't tell anybody what they wanted to hear. I
told them what I saw. We will add many "circumstances" to the "neverending
story" such as this one. I had never seen a bear in the wild in western NC in 20
years of being in WNC. My wife and I saw a bear on the "Roan" on the Sunday less
than 3 days before Chris's ride. I saw another bear before Craggy Gardens on Chris's ride.
Just a couple days before the ride Chris met a lady who was
impressed with Chris's courage and vision. She also was an inspiration to Chris. She
donated to "Hospice". She was having her bike fitted to her at one of the bike
shops. She had one leg.
I wish that more people had been there. I certainly would not
have wanted a single person missing from the crew or judges. I love each one to the point
of wanting us all to move in together. Each person added something special. Lisa Boone,
Larry Green, Matt Hollifield, Clarice Turner, Christina Jenkins, Billy Summerlin, Raymond
Cantrell, Mitchell Warren, Jeff Edwards, Harper Wilson, Dick Blomberg, Mignon Durham, and
every person that stood by the road, drove by shouting, and met us at the end- rejoice!
Hospice Rocks!
Michael Davis
Just an observer and Chris Boone's bike mechanic-for as long as I live.
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