What're you paying? 400 Shekels?

So I'm reading through the Bible in a year... well, I'm trying at least. Accounts like this one: http://stuffchristianslike.net/2011/01/already-being-behind-on-your-read-through-the-bible-in-a-year-plan/ hold less hope for me. Then again, I've pushed through some very dense reading for lesser purposes (thanks Developmental Psychobiology!), so perhaps Leviticus will be okay.

Nonetheless, I sometimes come across passages in this endeavor which make me really think and yesterday I noticed something interesting in Genesis 23, the account of Sarah's death and burial. You see, after Abraham's wife Sarah died, and since he didn't own the land he wanted where he wanted to bury her, he approached Ephron (no, not Zach) the Hittite to see about the area Sarah was to be buried. Ephron offered Abraham the land for free. Twice. But Abraham refused to take it, instead when Ephron mentioned what the land was worth, Abraham gave him that amount in full (400 shekels or 10 pounds of silver which, according to my NASB commentary, was more than the land was worth).

Now I am the son of a father who will go into major department stores and see if he can negotiate a better price on shirts, so the prospect of someone passing up such a deal is a bit odd to me. Even if the guy was only following customs of generosity or hospitality, paying that much when one could get it for free is quite surprising to my sensibilities. Then I thought about what we value, how we express that value in what we sacrifice to get it.

When I go out for tea, I look at the price and ask whether it is fair, that is whether my impression of the value or importance for that item is equal to or greater than the price someone is asking for it. Some might include a sense of what type of labour was needed for it or the quality of growing certain crops, but we all implicitly place value on what we want. In Vancouver, you could get tea/coffee for less than $2 at certain places, so what makes so many pay upwards of $5 for a Grande-infinite-pump-mocha/choca/caramella/la-vida-loca beverage?

And we sacrifice more than money. Jesus said "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also". If a guy really wants to pursue a girl, he's not going to be thinking whether she's worth the $50+ dinner. Moreso, if a guy wants to marry the girl, the sacrifice is even greater: his whole life. And he can say how great she is and how important to him but if he doesn't back it up with action it's not all too likely she or anyone else will believe him.

Now I'm not saying we shouldn't look for deals; in fact, bargains tell you how much you value the item above the asking price. But those things which are truly important to you, the friendships you have or the values you hold... what are they worth to you? And would you be willing to pay 400 shekels of silver?

And to Christians: how much do you value discipleship of Jesus Christ? The Gospel of Jesus? And how might you be showing that?

Chilliwack'ed, the rest of the story

So it has been 1.5 years since I did this trek and about the same time since I posted about the journey. I thank those who actually have read this and apologize for not finishing. In an effort to finalize certain things which I did not complete in 2010, I will now attempt to tell the rest of this account as well as I can, leaving out some minor details...

So Sumas Way ends up winding down to Highway 1, a fiercesome beast to any and all cyclists. After doing another ever-so-fun left turn, I took the South Parallel road only because it was separate from the highway but (surprise!) parallels the highway. Going along here was great; the wind was somehow in my favor, like God's hands pushing me along to my goal.

I will skip the descriptions of the many fields, trees, and houses I saw along the road; they are a sight to behold with their varying colours and textures, but really after you see one field you kind of tune out the others. I turned onto Fireclay/No. 4 Rd after about 10.5km of the wondrous forces of the Parallel Rd., entering into another winding portion of the route.

It's surprising how majestic life can be when you're going at 25-30km/hr. I often have trouble getting out of the busyness of my mind and biking seems to be one of the best ways to do this, if only due to the safety issue of not concentrating and ending up a very unwelcome hood ornament to someone's more motorized mode of transport. Necessity can be a wonderful thing.

Going through Yarrow, which I think is a town but it could just be a description of one of the crops, I entered the "joy" of Vedder Mountain-Vedder Rd.; this was a lot more elevation change than you may expect. By now I was reaching at least 80-90kms total and was about as appreciative of small uphills as one might be appreciative of someone shoving rocks in your shoes before a run. Not to mention that I would be seeing all of this soon enough when I made my way back.

In Chilliwack, I fueled up with some food and Gatorade. As it happened, I made my journey such that I arrived in Chilliwack at a time and day when no bike stores were open; this being important since I wanted to find a better way back. It would not have been so much of a problem, but someone might have mentioned a few things to avoid. I now know, were I to bike to Chilliwack again, to try and get on the NORTH side of the highway...

South Parallel Road, that blissful road of heavenly arms guiding me along, happens to hold this description when you are heading East. It... changes... when you go the other way. The best description I can think of is having the near-full force of nature itself attempting to stop you from going any further. I believe this is from biking in the opposite direction of the highway traffic to your right, creating a very harsh wind tunnel. I actually got off my bike to walk it a ways because I became so dejected by my progress and believed it would be easier that way. It was not.

Escape became essential, so I took a right at Whatcom Rd. and asked someone there whether there might be a better way through Abbotsford without being next to the highway. They pointed me towards going further on Whatcom but mentioned that there is a hill, to which I replied "I've done plenty of those today, one more won't hurt". There are moments in my life when my pride and arrogance are amazingly highlighted and subsequently smashed with a hammer. I like to think God smiles at these moments as I do afterwards (sometimes during), despite the pain they cause me. As you may have discerned, the hill in question was big and very steep for a cyclist. I had exchanged the pain of heart-stopping wind with the arduous duty of this terrible ascent. As I kept going up, I actually went OVER the hill at Sumas Rd. I had been on before. By the time I had gotten to the top, I realized I had likely biked most of the major hills in Abbotsford.

Another issue: I could not find the way to Fraser Hwy from downtown Abbotsford. Seriously, they had confused those streets to much I couldn't find the way. I ended up stopping at none other than the King of Floors to get directions. Neither the king or his tiny dog (for those who have seen the commercials) were there but one of the loyal subjects pointed me in the right direction. I had somehow gotten too far South and now had to make another course correction.

Fortunately I made it to Langley in time for meeting up with Shannon, which was as always a pleasant time of good conversation and company. She pointed me towards the areas where I could find much-needed sustenance, my choosing Earl's due to their good food plus I had a gift card along with me.

A note about thoughts: they are pervasive. What began as a quick thought to alleviate the stress of possibly not finishing my journey turned into what was almost reality. I realized at this point my body was pushed, darkness approached, and the distance just seems too far. I would take the bus after dinner, depending how I felt at that point. I had already done quite a bit (about 180kms) so bowing out now would not be so bad. It's amazing one's ability to rationalize the easy way out.

I went to Earl's and ate, ate a big dinner: salmon and veggies and rice. I was close to not taking a bus but still fairly resolved. The waitress asked if I wanted dessert; at this point I had biked a long way and my heart rate monitor basically told me I would not replenish my expended calories if I ate only dessert for the next two days, so I decided I would have some ice cream. As my mouth tasted the sugar and cream, I felt my muslces being restored. By the time I finished I had no more thoughts of taking a bus. I was going to BEAT the bus to Surrey (likely the sugar talking at that point). As I began biking, I was energized and took hills like they were nothing. Before I knew it I was in Surrey and approaching the bridge.

Something funny happened at that point. 198kms were done but my energy was flat, gone again, and the Putello bridge was ahead of me. This was the end. This was the last 2km and I no longer had the energy to go up that treacherous bridge and down the other side. I knew that this was some sort of message from God Above, that I would have no choice but to trust Him the last little bit. I summoned whatever microns of strength my muscles had left and began the ascent. Lights glaring in my eyes, every rotation an effort, I pedaled closer and closer until I reached the top. And that was it. I allowed gravity to suck me down to the nearest Skytrain.

A Skytrain, a bus, then done. As I said before: 201km biked, 100km of which done in 4.5 hours, total time from start to finish: about 14 hours, 8430 calories expended (according to my heartrate monitor), countless moments of doubt and near-cursing frustration, 9 different towns biked through, and nearly no energy left by the time I got back.

If I were to do it again, I would like to have someone with me. I've come to the realization recently that my selfishness seems to particularly extend to the activities I do day-to-day as I don't allow anyone to share them with me. Biking is definitely one of the areas I would like to have someone with me, if only for the knowledge that there's someone watching my back in case a wind is too much or a hill is too high and I need that extra push to get up. I was blessed on this journey by having God there beside me the whole way and He'll be there next time as well, but sharing that experience with someone else will make all the difference.

Chilliwack'ed Ep. 4

Ep. 4: Abbotsford, the humchback of the Fraser Valley

Still dehydrated, my more sensible side decided it best to stop after getting off the bridge to refuel with some Gatorade. It's quite amazing how long that toothpaste sucks the moisture from your mouth... It had a discernible effect even 2+ hours into my ride.
As I continued along the "highway" I soon (though it seemed like a long way due to the absence of landmarks, unless you include blades of grass as landmarks which to my perception seem rather similar) made it to Sumas Road. This turned out to be Sumas hill. Crossing a few lanes of traffic, a swift left turn got me to the middle of the road, wide enough but daunting to a small vehicle such as myself when large multi-ton machines of death are careening in both directions around me. Mercifully I found a break so I could narrow my chances of being smashed down to those motorized vehicles coming from behind me. And then I climbed. I climbed methodically, slowly.
It's an interesting situation when you can't see the end of a hill, or even where it might crest to a decreased incline. My body has learned to conserve energy while going up these mysterious mountains, but again the doubt is not far away. Where there is doubt, energy decreases proportionately, and while I knew that there had to be a top to this geographical monstrosity there wasn't a perceptible reason why I should think that way. Being that I could not turn back, I took this opportunity to reflect upon yet another of God's lessons for me: the end is often not in sight. In fact, the largest hills I've gone up are those which I had to wait the longest to see the top; so it is also with life, I find... The most long-term, worthwhile goals are the ones which you can't see the end. Of course, with biking up a mountain, you have to ask yourself "what's the point?" and, consequently, "isn't there a way around this thing which might be... flatter?".
For this excursion, I answered these questions as follows: "I do not know nor care" and "yes, but that would be longer and no where near as grueling", respectively.
Finding the downhill right after I passed under an overpass (to be mentioned later), I pushed as hard as I could so as to make up for any lost time from the careful pushing up Sumas Road... Soon connecting to South Parallel Road, which was an experience all on its own.

Chilliwack'ed Ep. 3

Ep. 3: A Profusion of Confusion

As one enters Mission with the intention of going to Abbotsford, there are likely signs of varying nature which indicate the correct turn onto the Abbotsford-Mission Highway. I did not see these. There was, however, a "Route 11" which looked remarkably like the overhead pictures I saw on Google Maps; yet it was not exactly what I wanted to take, so I kept on going.
As I continued to push through Mission, the thought occurred to me that Mission is really not that large a town and I seemed to be going very far to get to a road which should go into the middle of Mission. Eventually the suburban scenery dissipated, leaving an info center in the distance as the only possible location for assistance in this moment of uncertainty.
I will, for your benefit, translate the thoughts that were going through my mind, though in nicer language because it was spoken in anger initially and I am able to correct this now:
"Well I certainly feel bad for having missed that seemingly un-signed turn. It did seem inevitable earlier that I would miss something at some point, but this is getting close to my limit of patience. Oh, and I have to climb a hill to make up for my ill-chosen direction... I don't think it looks like a nice hill, either... Ah well, have to get back."
Imagine something like that, except with a bit of profanity thrown in there.
Anyways, fortunately there was a route back which meant I didn't have to go the full distance, but instead just over some overpasses till I hit Route 11. As I went over the bridge which spans the width of the Fraser River, it reminded me of the last time I had been there around sunset. I couldn't reminisce long, unfortunately... It was important that I got over the bridge quickly as I was riding my bike over it, an infraction merely due to a low railing making one's height on a bike enough that hitting the railing might turn your bike ride into a swim hastily. Really, you don't have to worry... I'm safe for the most part and even when I'm not, it's typically calculated stupidity.
So after a small detour, I was on track, over the bridge staring out at the wonderful world of Abbotsford... Well, it was Abbotsford, anyways... Lots of fields and basically nothingness civilization-wise, but I kept going.... to Sumas Road.

Chilliwack'ed Ep. 2

Ep. 2: A Mission to Mission...

It is a long way between Port Coquitlam and Mission. A distance made perceptively longer by the absence of civilization and abundance of foliage. A seemingly endless expanse of concrete which at times one can see about 5 km ahead and other times can barely see 50m ahead.
The time taken to cross this beautiful God-given creation (complete with man-made asphalt and sawmills) allows for much time for contemplation. Even with my iPod plugged in (and, as my father would say, myself being consequently 'tuned out'), I began to think. Actually, a better word would be doubt. I began to doubt many things.... How far could I really get? Do I truly have enough energy? What does this say about my sanity? Of course, I really couldn't answer any of these and, being accustomed to a certain degree of doubt in my life, decided they were better left a mystery to be handled at a later time. After all, aren't "Our doubts... traitors, mak[ing] us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt." (Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 1.4.87-9)?
Now, the most interesting moment of my journey to Mission: eating a Clif bar. While biking. Oh, and while maintaining a decent speed... Yeah, it was not my most graceful moment in life. I had decided before that I would eat a Clif bar (amazing energy bar) after 1.75hrs of biking. Having reached this milestone, I pulled out one of the two Clif bars I had put in my pockets, a Crunchy Peanut Butter Bar. Having only one hand to open it with (the other required to keep my bike both upright and on course), improvisation was needed. Using my teeth/tongue to maneuver the wrapper, I opened it after much wobbling around in a very non-dexterous show of grace in motion. Now came the point of consumption. Without using more higher-functioning areas of my brain, I took one large mouthful in one bite, taking about 2/3 of the bar into my mouth at one time. Those who are lovers of peanut butter will attest to what happens when you get too much in your mouth at one time. To say the least, breathing became a trial. So there I was, a wonky, misshapen Lance Armstrong wannabe desperately sucking in air while attempting to avoid the multi-ton chariots of death which were still screaming by me without a thought as to what this strange man might be doing in such a precarious situation as biking beside a semi-major highway. To say the least, smaller bites were taken after this event.
Having already nearly killing myself with what should have provided more energy, I realized that there are worse things that could happen. When I got to Mission, some of them did.

Ep. 1: "Why Can't I Coquitlam You?"

So living on a hill has its advantages, unless you're living on Burnaby Mountain heading East. Going down that side of the hill, you get to an intersection and, turning left, there is a massive hill awaiting you. Determined to be positive, I decided this was a good warm-up for the rest of my day and attempted to not waste energy needed later. After summiting to Burquitlam, I got to speed downhill fast enough that the minivan in front of me came often close to meeting my front tire (which would have been followed by a greeting by my face, torso, and other ligaments). Whoever was driving, I don't think they knew where they were going, but fortunately such an impediment turned soon, leaving me with open road to push myself along.
As I was going through Coquitlam, it struck me that not stretching properly was going to be a problem; my muscles were in an uproar. I finally stopped around Coquitlam Centre Mall and took some time to stretch. This felt good in the moment, though likely broke any momentum I was going to get out of myself heading towards my destination (any stopping before you get to where you're going kind of sets you up for more rests later, I find... Especially in biking, hiking, and running).
A fun side note: trucks and wind. As you're biking next to faster-moving traffic, the speed of the vehicles creates some wind going in the direction of the traffic. The larger the vehicle, the more wind going in that direction, for a short period of time. Therefore, if you have a lot of traffic going in your direction and are courageous (stupid?) enough to get close to them, it creates a nice effect of a tailwind particularly when large trucks are concerned.
I attempted to maximize on this effect by riding as close as safely possible to trucks as they passed me. Averaging about 30km/hr was the result, which is good considering all the weight I was hauling (not to mention how much the carry-bags weighed).
So having stretched, I continued on through Coquitlam, Port Coquitlam, and into the wonderful green stretch of Lougheed Highway which stretches on and on....

Chilliwack'ed, Intro

Recently, I did another of my bike adventures, this time exceeding all previous distance records for myself... I went to Chilliwack, from Burnaby Mountain. Since I have this particular medium to describe the trip, I figured I might as well use it; it'll take awhile and about 12-13 posts to get it all, so hopefully it'll be entertaining enough for you all. For any who aren't much into reading verbose descriptions, here's the rundown of the trip: 201km biked, 100km of which done in 4.5 hours, total time from start to finish: about 14 hours, 8430 calories expended (according to my heartrate monitor), countless moments of doubt and near-cursing frustration, 9 different towns biked through, and nearly no energy left by the time I got back. To fill in the details, you'll have to read more.

Prologue: Anticipation
Leading up:
I'd been mentally preparing for an excursion to Chilliwack for a long while, as it's a good destination for crazies wanting to bike 200km given its position roughly 100km from Vancouver and the terrain being mild elevation-wise (the latter point I might refute now, given my experience). The decision was made a week beforehand to do the trip on a Monday since I had the day off work. Despite some minor illness the previous week, I was in pretty good condition by the time the day rolled around.
The Night Before: Sunday, June 22
Preparations were made for the saddlebags, clothes, bike, and even my muscles. Though I'm one to oft emphasize the psychological side of things, this was somehow overlooked in my many tasks to be ready for the ride. Bags were packed the night before with an array of useful items, likely about 40% of which were in no way used at any point in the trip. Clothes were chosen based on comfort but also reduced awkwardness. No one really wants to see me in tight spandex-like bike gear, at least I certainly don't think so (plus I was meeting Shannon later in the day... so it was for her benefit as well). The day before I cleaned the gears and chain on my bike as thoroughly as I could. I have done a magnificent job of uglifying my bike in a number of areas: pink reflector stickers, fruit stickers, leaving just a bit of grime on it, etc, etc... But I am convinced that cleaning the gear assembly and chain can change the efficiency of riding quite a bit (given that the methods of uglifying have to this point been mainly cosmetic and in no way interfere with the workings of the bike, a bit of work with a brush and my gears are not among the worst-looking areas of my noble, stainless-steel steed).
Regarding the muscles, I have to explain about The Stick; this is a roughly 1.5-foot "stick" with plastic rollers on it and what appears to be a ceramic core tube around which the plastic rollers are situated. By rolling The Stick on my muscles, it kneads out any knots and effectively warms up my muscles so I can be ready for exercise. The night before I left, I made sure to use this device on my legs just in case, with further use the next day before I left. Unfortunately, while I did use The Stick, I did not decide to stretch properly. This was not a good idea, as I learned later on.
Day of the Trek: Monday, June 23
It was a usual morning for me, save for waking up at a certain time (7am or so) in the morning when I typically and preferably would be in my better stages of REM sleep. The routine was normal: breakfast while watching some TV show online, shaving, flossing, brushing teeth... Except there is a certain problem with the last item: toothpaste, as it happens, tends to turn my mouth into the Sahara desert as it absorbs every speck of moisture I have. Dehydration while you are biking for hours on end is among the worst things which can happen, likely moreso when you begin in this state.
Anyways, the goal was a departure at 8:30am. I "stretched" (as described above with The Stick), and decided that a bit of tire pumping was needed. Now, my pump has the wonderful feature of being compact enough to fit in one of my bike bags without much hassle. It lacks a pressure gauge, however, and this is only a problem when I'm in a state of excitement and hurry, like when I'm about to embark on a full-day gruelathon which could cut short my existence. It was 8:20am when I started pumping the tires; the back tire was fine after a few pumps, so on to the front. I was going at it vigourously when I noticed that the sound of air escaping was getting more continuous than I have usually observed, going even after I remove the pump. This is the sound of over-inflating a tube and having the seal around the valve split into an unpatch-able mess of tube-y fun. Consequently also the sound of my start time being delayed while I furiously (a word used in both the emotional and physical contexts at this point) changed the tube and pumped it up, careful this time not to over-inflate.
A last check-over everything; gear, water, bike, heltmet, iPod, heartrate monitor, gloves... Check. Off I go, at 9:05am, heading towards Port Coquitlam.