Hawked
WELCOME TO SATURDAY STORIES, A BREAK FROM THE DAILY DEVOTIONAL.
I started cycling in my early forties grew to love getting outdoors by myself and spending a couple of hours in the saddle. Living in a rural area has given me the advantage of having a lot of roads on which to ride where the vehicle traffic isn’t heavy. The disadvantage is that I also often find myself on roads that are unofficially guarded by non-human creatures like dogs.
In 2005 I had decided to participate in a nearby one day bike ride called the “DamJam.” I had never ridden a century (a 100 mile ride) before and wanted to give it a go. I knew I was going to need to do some serious and disciplined training if I was going to meet my goal. I was riding 5 to 6 times a week. Fitting training rides into my schedule wasn’t easy. My wife, Monica, often graciously rearranged her schedule to accommodate my rides. Sometimes I had to work a ride into my lunch hour and at other times I would head out as soon as I arrived home from work.
Saturday quickly became by favorite time to ride. Because I tend to be an early riser, I could get up and out for a ride and still be back home in time to do other things. Early on Saturday morning there was usually very little traffic to worry about. Because it was a day off of work I could get in some of the long rides I desperately needed to prepare for the upcoming century.
It was a late spring Saturday morning and according to the training schedule I was working from, I needed to ride about 70 miles. There were certain routes I rode on a regular basis but none of them were long enough without going around the same route two or three times, which sounded tedious to me. Doing some research I found some new route maps on a local area bike club web site. One of them passed within five miles of my house and was a 65 mile route. Adding on the five miles each way to the route would make the total ride 75 miles. It was the perfect ride for me.
I was mostly familiar with the first and last parts of the route since they were close to my home. It was the middle part that I wasn’t sure about, but the routes were well marked and I didn’t think it would be a problem.
I started out across some back roads I knew well and connected with the mapped out routes. The first few miles of the mapped route took me along the shoulder of a four lane highway, over several huge hills, until finally turning down a steep banking hill onto a quiet paved rural road.
On that road I settled into a steady comfortable pace. The air was cool and the sun had just begun to create enough heat for the sweat to begin to roll. Feeling really well and enjoying the ride, I was somewhat lost in my thoughts and paying little attention to what was going on around me. Thirsty, I took a drink from my water bottle and sat upright. When I shifted positions, out of the corner of my eye I saw something in the air to my left. I couldn’t believe what was about to happen. When I turned my head to look I saw a large hawk swooping down like a dive-bomber and heading right for me.
When things like that happen, time seems to move slow enough to allow one to have numerous thoughts. Such was the case with me. I thought: “O’ crap,” “I can’t believe this,” “What is that stupid bird thinking,” “Ok, when it makes impact can I keep my bike upright,” “O’ crap,” “Man I wish someone had video of this,” “Monica isn’t going to believe this,” “O’ crap.”
I was so focused on the hawk from hell, and he on me, that neither of us noticed that we weren’t alone. As he dove in a few feet off the ground and within six feet of impact he crossed over the plane of the road and there he met his well-deserved fate. While he was going in for the kill, he forgot to look both ways before crossing the road. My savior that day was a white Chevy pickup truck. There was an impact for sure, but it was between the truck and the hawk and we all know who wins that battle.
I rather feel sorry for that hawk. Had his mission been a success we both would have had a great story to tell. He could have told of his courageous assault on a prey twenty times his size. I could have told of the day a hawk mistook me for breakfast, and if I was lucky I would have had some scars to show for it. As it is, his exploits will only live on if I tell of them. In the end he has my admiration. Maybe only once in a life does one get to face an enemy as regal and brave as I did that day. I may never see anyone like him again.
Riding my bike I have learned that enemies attack when least expected. They move in for the kill when my guard is down and all is well in life. This experience has also taught me that deliverance also comes in unexpected and miraculous ways. You can’t plan for every contingency in life and you won’t always be safe. But even when you are alone you are never alone in Christ.
