Early the morning one balloon hung over Long's Peak.

What I saw for two days of cycling the Colorado-Wyoming MS 150 bike ride last week was the gentle Hand of Man touching one another time after time in caring and support. A hand of strength to the weak; a hand of love to a spouse; a hand-up on a long climb; a steadying hand when the tremors of Multiple Sclerosis threatened to overwhelm a cyclist's long day in the 100-degree sun.

My friend Nick enjoying a morning downhill.

Sitting under the lunch tent on Sunday I saw a wife's gentle, caressing fingers combing cool water through her husband's long, black hair, slicking it from his forehead as he leaned back in his chair wearing a smile of refreshing relief. Pouring more cool water down his shirt, she appeared to be comforted in the knowledge that she was making a difference. I'd passed them not 30 minutes earlier on a little climb in the mid-morning sun. Twice he and I traded positions, and he seemed strong. At the top of the rise I saw his wife stopped and twisted in her saddle, cheering him up the grade. On the back of her shirt she wore the familiar sign, "I Participate for ….. " and "my husband!" hand-written across the center. I stopped and asked if that was her husband I'd just passed on the hill and she beamed, "Oh yeah, that's my husband!"

My "Participate" sign

On that simple sign, "I participate for…", which was worn by perhaps thousands of riders, I saw cyclists participating for uncles and aunts, friends and co-workers. That Hand of Man was participating for "My Mom", "My Sweetie, Karen!", in past years I rode for "My Brother, Steve". And on Saturday I passed an "I Participate For" sign on a young woman cyclist with a single word in its center: "Me".

Sometimes it was hard to keep a dry eye; hard not to pause and consider the devastation of an illness like MS, how it affects so many families at random (11,000 people in Colorado and Wyoming alone); and hard not to consider the phenomenal outpouring of support that was on bikes for those two hot days in one of the largest MS fund raisers in the country.

And I saw more than just "I Participate for…" signs. On our last hot climb I passed a team on the sidewalk maybe 30 yards from the top of the final hill before a short downhill to the finish. In the middle of the team of six slow-walking cyclists I saw a man perhaps in his thirties bent in a comma position over his bike, his right forearm leaning on the saddle, left hand steadying himself on the handlebars, shuffling slowly up the sidewalk. After each unsteady, wobbling step his whole body shook. The bike seemed not much more than a moving crutch. But I saw his head lift up in a tremble, and his eyes focus in determination on the top of the climb mere yards away. A moment later, when I realized the astonishing strength of will and teamwork I had just witnessed, tears welled up in my own eyes that I didn't fight.

On the course after 88 miles

Then almost to the top of that same hill, I caught up to a familiar team of three riders who pedaled together up hill and down both days. Two of its riders would sometimes, later in the day, exchange uphill stints towing the third rider sitting in a wheel-chair with hand cranks out front. I pulled up behind and watched them undo the tow strap then followed them and their team mate cranking across the finish line to cheers from the crowd.

Thank you for taking the time to share what I saw. It was a remarkable experience. And most of all, thank you for supporting my ride.