Accidental Motivation
Embracing Fate & Finding Happiness
Written and Narrated by John Holsinger
Copyright 2024
Audio copyright 2024
All rights reserved
Chapter IV: The Fastest Labor Day Ever
“One of the most important days of my life, was when I learned to ride a bicycle.”
— Michael Palin
VASE to ZYGO.
The value of secondhand stories shouldn’t be underestimated. They offer us glimpses into lives and events we haven’t personally experienced, broadening our worldview and enriching our understanding of various situations. These tales can serve as warnings, allowing us to glean important lessons without enduring the same hardships ourselves. They give us the privilege to learn from others’ errors, triumphs, or challenges.
Yet, there’s no substitute for firsthand experiences. They possess an emotional and sensory intensity that far exceeds the confines of any narrative. The act of physically engaging with the world around us, feeling the impact of choices and consequences in real-time, has an unparalleled force.
For three years following Scott’s tragic accident, I couldn’t shake off the memory of it, especially when I ran past the intersection where his life was cut short. But only two years had passed when I found myself dashing across that same road without waiting for the WALK signal. I hadn’t forgotten the lesson; instead, I had become more vigilant. I reasoned that with heightened alertness, I could beat the odds and cross safely, shaving a few precious minutes off my run. The raw fear of potential injury had diminished, but the possibility of danger never vanished.
And so, I continued my twin passions of running and biking, albeit more cautiously than before. But then, one pivotal morning in 2016, life decided to underscore just how swiftly our perspective can turn, and how our reality can be upended in the blink of an eye.
A Turn of Events: From Routine to Revelation
Labor Day 2016 started as a day of anticipation. Fresh off a week-long Caribbean cruise—replete with luxurious meals—I was eager to burn some serious calories. I had signed up for the Fastest Labor Day Ever, a sixty-mile cycling event hosted by Bat City Cycling Club (BCCC), one of Austin’s most established cycling teams. It promised to be more than just a workout; it was an event.
The dawn of Labor Day saw me wide awake, tingling with a mix of eagerness and jitters for the ride that lay ahead. When my alarm rang at 6:30 AM, I quickly got out of bed. As I did, an odd sensation gripped me—the floor felt like it was moving, a lingering effect from my recent cruise known as mal de debarquement. It was an amusing, if slightly disorienting, start to the day.
Group rides had always been fun, offering a chance to push my physical limits amidst an eclectic group of cyclists with varying skills and fitness. This was much different from the indoor Spin classes I typically led as an instructor.
Cycling meetups often start in coffee shops—a casual prelude to the main event. However, when these seemingly leisurely rides are organized by avid cyclists like the BCCC, the laid-back pace morphs into something more adrenaline-fueled. It becomes a test of speed, strength, and stamina.
Veterans like Vince Marotte, a BCCC mainstay, have their capabilities well-known within the community. For relative newcomers like me, the initial stretch is all about gauging one’s fitness and securing a comfortable spot in the peloton. Though not the fastest, my extensive endurance training in running and cycling gave me the stamina to gradually nudge toward the front of the pack.
Arriving at the Red Horn Coffee House and Brewing Co., the designated starting point, I felt a surge of excitement as I unloaded my bike. About fifty riders milled around, prepping their gear. Recognizable faces were few; I’d only cycled with this group on a couple of occasions.
As the air buzzed with anticipation, a voice rang out: “Let’s have a fast and safe ride.” The last memory I have was clicking into my pedals, exiting the parking lot, and taking a sharp right turn onto Parmer Lane. Unbeknownst to me, this ride would take a profoundly unexpected turn. Around thirty minutes in, I was involved in a severe accident, a life-defining moment that shifted the entire focus of my world—and this book.
Mile 13 – A Mile Unlike Any Other
In an orchestrated ballet of motion, we cyclists rode two abreast, each pair maintaining a space of twelve to twenty-four inches between their bikes. We occupied the shoulder of the road, the looming highway barrier hugging our right side. We were a living, breathing entity, a tightly-knit unit moving in unison, heads down and legs pumping. Weeks later, the details of what unfolded would be relayed back to me. According to the accounts of my fellow riders, by the time we hit the thirteenth mile on Ronald Reagan Boulevard in Georgetown, Texas, I was situated toward the rear third of our group.
