Driving home from Brian Head after a weekend of painful bliss on the mountain bike, there is a young blond child on her father's shoulders staring at me from a billboard, her hands raised above her head, the American flag grasped in her pudgy fingers, the words UNITY blaring in black block letters. I'm listening to the Spirit soundtrack and there is an orchestral crescendo as I speed by. It is moving in its own way.

I am returning from the Fat Tire Festival at Brian Head where along with seven others I was shuttled to and from some of the best mountain bike trails in the West. Thunder Mountain, seven miles of intermediate to advanced up and down sequences through and above red hoodoos and alpine canyons, is amazingly scenic, but the hills are kicking my butt.
Jason, a much better rider than I, peddles behind me yelling, "Shift down! You can do it! Go! Go! Go!" So I push harder even when I want to stop and cry. I become more than I am because he stayed with me.

At major junctions and intersections on the trail the faster riders in our group stop and wait for those in the rear. It is not required, but it unites us in a way where, though at times we ride with no one else in sight, we know we are not alone. We are making sure no one gets lost, takes the wrong path, gets hurt, feels left out. It is very good form.

In Sunday School, or was it first grade, the teacher held up one popsicle stick and easily broke it. She then added five or six to the stack and the pile could no longer be broken. As I drive down the interstate, four lanes on each side, I wonder how many people are crying? How many people are excited about where they are headed as they speed along? How many people are alone or lonely? How five or six, or even two of us are stronger together than just a single stick resisting the pressures.

In the shuttle van and on the trail there are packets of energy gel and peanut butter shared back and forth as energy wanes. People from the group are taking my photo at scenic overlooks and offering to send me copies. I am glad I am with them. They remind me that though being alone without the hassle of another's needs may sometimes be easier, when we are alone we are less than we could be together. Synergy, the interaction of different things so that their combined effect is greater than the sum of individual effects, is an exponential empowerment. If I give what I have to give, and you give what you have to give, we both have more. And if I give and you do not, I still have more because I become more than I was before I gave, and we are both richer for it. Near Ogden Utah there is a billboard of Mother Teresa her hands reaching out to an unseen other, the words "reaching beyond yourself" emblazoned below her picture. I scratch a note to call my friend that just had her baby and see how she is doing. I'm thinking about the givers and takers of the world. There are times we will need the help, someone to encourage us up the hill, take us to dinner, call and check on us; and there are times when we are lucky enough to be the giver. It takes both.

There is a beautiful piece of thin navy paper, an iridescent blue green feather pasted down one side, a poem entitled "The Gift of an Angel by Your Side," on the other, a small gold and blue pin with the words "blue bird of happiness" attached at the top, a hundred dollar bill and a friend's handwriting beside the pin that says "Fly!". It was handed to me during a difficult transitional time in a plain brown envelope with a hug and the direction to open when needed.

When your butt is kicked and a rider on the trail offers you her packet of GU, you love that rider. When you've taken all you can take and you're about to bonk, that energy gel is not just a .99 cent package of rice syrup, potassium and caffeine, it's pure gold, and sometimes it saves your life. Sometimes just knowing there is someone that cares enough to ride behind you hollering "You can do it!" says as much as a billboard. Sometimes the human race shines.