There I was, a semi-pro cross-country mountain bike racer, having the time of my life. I was young, single, and living at home with no bills. I didn't have any responsibility besides me, myself, and I.
I was working on an over-the-road construction crew, making good money, and taking off work with little to no notice. I was able to travel the country and ride the NORBA National mountain bike series. I was going places. The memories of the semi-pro races are still here. But I did all kinds of races in those years!
Like this one I did with my big brother Chad.
Or this one in Michigan.
I also participated in some grueling adventure races. Those were amazing. But they need their own post to do them justice. I was in the best shape of my life, and even during a 72 hour adventure race, I refused to take a caffeine pill! I was anti putting anything in my body that was a pill or drug of any kind. (I didn't consider alcohol a drug). I didn't really know what a caffeine pill was, but I was good without it.
At the top of my game, in mid June 2002, I entered a race here, the breathtaking Snowshoe, West Virginia. This was my favorite place to race. I really excelled at this course because of all the rocks, roots, and crazy-gnarly down hills. My parents came to watch me race that day. I can, to this day, recall the shrill screech of my mother, scared to death, as I flew past her and Dad down one of the awesome descents.
These races were big events for the riders. For the high altitude courses, I either tried to get there a week before the race, to ride the course and acclimate, or to fly in the day before, gear up, and hit it hard before my body even realized that I couldn't breath.
Snowshoe was the closest National event. Because it was close to home and my favorite, I would always go at least a week early. During that particular stay in Snowshoe, a cycling coach from Lindsey Wilson College in Kentucky scouted me out. A mutual friend pointed him in my direction and after he watched for a while, he asked me to enroll in his college and join the cycling team.
Of course, I told him to get lost. I hadn't even looked at book in four years..let alone written a paper. I never did care much for school. Math was okay, but reading, and writing !? I couldn't imagine why I would want to give up my perfect life to go to sit around and have to read stuff.
I happily rode in my race, and went home. One week later, the coach I blew-off at Snowshoe, called me at home. He asked me, again, if I "wouldn't at least come tour the campus and get a little more info?"
Again, I said, "No thanks, I'm good." Another week of my awesome life went by... Then, the phone rang, again, same coach.
Only this time, my mom said, "Caleb, maybe this is God trying to tell you something."
We decided to take the trip. What could it hurt? We packed a lunch the next day and I drove with my mother down to Columbia, Kentucky. When we pulled up, we found a really small, Methodist, Liberal Arts college.
Of course, after meeting with the cycling coach and taking a tour, I got really excited. I couldn't wait to move in that fall, even though it was just a few short weeks away.
I had no high school diploma, no GED... I didn't have anything that said I could even read or write and this guy got me enrolled in college with a full-ride scholership to race bikes. Oh, and I would be on a full expense paid cycling team.
The only thought I had, as I packed up my belongings to leave the only home I had known, was: "Wow, my dream of going pro is really happening."
The first couple of months, I was in pre-college level classes. They went well. I spent an hour learning to use a hi-lighter in one class... No big deal. I had amazingly fast teammates who pushed me and helped me get even faster.
However, this was the first time in my life that I was away from home for more than a week or two. I felt that I was invincible. I had complete freedom, or so I thought, and this is when I really start to drink, a lot, and first discovered pot. Many of my teammates smoked, especially the fast ones I hung out with. At first, I was hesitant, but I didn't really have any real defenses against it. I had never learned anything about it other than from my co-workers back home. Between their influence and watching these guys, it seemed like completely harmless fun.
I was still riding my bike six days a week, never missed class, and made it to a church service almost every Sunday. My walk with God, at this point, was merely just going through the motions for show. I went to church so that I wouldn't have to lie to my mother when she asked, during our Sunday talks every week, if i had been.
I used to get a lot of pride from seeing myself as an honest person. I hid stuff, I didn't tell the whole truth, but I didn't ever lie... so I kept attending church.
Time went on, and I received a letter from the college informing me that they just realized they didn't have my high school diploma on file. They notified me that I couldn't register for the Spring classes until they had it.
I quickly found a local place where I could take some pre-test practice and then, after spending three months in college, tested for the GED. I passed, got the results turned in and was good to go another semester.
Spring semester got even harder. I was actually taking a couple college level classes.
Even though my home education had taught me the Truth, I was still easily blinded by the counterfeit spiritual experience of getting high. I loved and respected my mom, and wouldn't have done anything she drilled into me and told me not to. At least, I was afraid of disappointing her, so I wouldn't pursue the relationships with girls like my friends did, I kept going to church, I didn't really see myself as rebellious, I kept the "rules" that made me feel like I was being a good son... And everyone knew pot was practically legal... Even some of the professors smoked... and Mom never said not too...
The rationalizations made my transformation seamless: from shy, quiet home school boy to campus pot dealer.
School work became less important than partying and I experimented for the first time with cocain. That turned into a few times, then extacy twice. My buddies and I would look the stuff up online before we tried it to see what it was and what it was supposed to do. We had no idea what we were messing with.
Then, the great entrepreneur lessons from my childhood paid off, and business was great. I thought I was somebody important. I walked around campus barefoot, wore hemp necklaces, I hadn't been "cool" before. Pot made me so cool. Everyone knew who I was...
My RD found out and then they were trying to find a way to get rid of me. I was on a history class field trip visiting Grace Land and I got the call... (to be continued)
No comments:
Post a Comment