Riding for Catharsis

Okay, so in Theatre 101 we are told that Aristotle is credited with creating the idea of the carthartis - the effect of tragic drama on its audience, which is usually manifested by a purifying or figurative cleansing of the emotions, especially pity and fear. Another definition of catharsis is a release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit.

For any of you that have been following my blog, you know that my primary purpose of riding my bicycle has been to raise money for the cancer community. My first forays were to raise money for the American Cancer Society in gratitude of the research that made the diagnoses and treatement of my threes sisters' (yes, another drama reference) and my mother's cancers possible. I wanted to do something to help other fighting the disease that needed the help that my sisters and mother got.

And as of this year my fundraising efforts on my bicycle are still going towards the cancer community but now I'm focusing my efforts on children - primarily trying to help those kids fighting cancer have a summer camp experience like other kids.

However at 10:40 this morning I took to my bike for a different purpose - seeking my own catharsis. As I wrote yesterday my brother David passed away in an accident doing what he loved to do - drive his rig. As I spoke to the family on the phone yesterday they were all emotional wrecked as well they should be. His passing is going to leave a gaping hole in our lives. But as I said yesterday I was feeling emotionally numb. It didn't seem to make sense to me. Even though he wasn't a part of my daily life as he was with everyone down in Knoxville, he was still my brother. I guess my shock and numbness could be attributed to just not being able to really accept it. Last night and again this morning I watched the video on the Houston news websites and still it didn't hit me.

It hit me about 18 miles into what would be a 30 mile non-stop ride today. I knew I had to ride today and I knew I had to ride for David. I kept hoping if I rode myself into a state of exhaustion and reached that meditative state of "flow" I might release enough so that I could feel. So, I tried to find every hill or climb of any note that I knew of between here and Syosset. It wasn't until I stood up and pounded for everything I was worth while going up Lawrence Hill Road that my cathartic moment finally hit.

I found myself standing up out of the saddle and sobbing hysterically as I kept pedaling and thinking of David - of the last time I talked to him and how I regretted not keeping in better touch with him. I cried out of anger for his having been taken away far too young. I cried for my family in Knoxville and the loss they were feeling. And I cried out of anger at myself for not reaching out to him often enough. It was good to know that I'm not made of stone and that I did feel the pain of his loss. All I know is that the rest of the ride home I felt more alive because I finally felt the pain that I had been denying myself for almost 24 hours.

I know my sisters and my mom are heartbroken. My own heart goes out to his wife Rhonda who I've never even met - I hadn't seen him in ten years. I can't pretend that my pain is the same as theirs since they will have the pain of not seeing him on the regular basis that they normally do. And I cry for my nephew Austin who won't know that his uncle David won't be coming back to visit until his parents tell him tomorrow.

I talked to Tamara today and they had some thoughts about why David never hit the brakes. First of all, he was too experienced a driver to not try to take some evasive action - even if he didn't see the other rig until it was too late. It wouldn't be like him not to hit the brakes or try to steer his rig away. Perhaps he was in some sort of physical distress before the accident. Ultimately we'll never know but it would be comforting to know that he was (as the coroner seemed to indicate) that he was dead on impact, possibly as the result of a heart issue or other medical complication.

Again, we'll never know. All we'll know is that we'll miss him and that while our lives are better becuase we knew David, they will never be the same.

For any of you out there who read this - pass this blog on to your friends and remind them (as I do now) take some time today to reach out to someone you haven't been in contact for a while and thank them for having help make you who you are today. And if they are anywhere near you, invite them to join you on your bike in search of a cathartic moment.

I'll see you on the road.