Juneau, Alaska (Mendenhall Valley)

Distance: 21 miles (total 500 miles)

Climb: 250 feet

Re-creation of Magic

As children or youth, we all experience magical moments. And then we spend our lives—either consciously or subconsciously—trying to recreate the feelings anchored to those special episodes.

When I was about 11, my grandmother and I shared a can of Coke while sitting in my grandfather’s pickup truck at the farmers’ market they ran one summer in Brownstown, Indiana. She told me she could live off Coke if she could. She always kept a variety of soft drinks in her refrigerator. My favorite eventually became Big Red, but its availability is limited even today.

I trace my love of diet sodas back to those early memories.

My first memories of White Castle hamburgers were also with her, in Indianapolis. We used to eat popcorn or ice cream at night while watching the Pacers. My dad took me to Pacers games when they were still in the American Basketball Association (ABA).

To this day, I seek out White Castles whenever I’m in Indiana. I eat popcorn or ice cream (or a reasonable facsimile, like fruit and granola) nearly every evening. I rarely miss a Pacers game. Over the decades, I’ve come to believe that this drive isn’t just about enjoying a snack or rooting for a beloved team—it’s about reigniting the special feelings from those earliest experiences.

In my early 20s, I spent two enchanting months in South Asia. Years later, I took my wife and kids to India and Pakistan—twice—hoping they would experience some of the same magic. Unsurprisingly, each of those trips unveiled unforgettable moments of their own.

Similarly, my wife now finds comfort in eating sweet bread—something that reminds her of her childhood in San Vicente, El Salvador. She also enjoys fresh fruit at night, a special treat when she was young.

These attachments, I believe, go well beyond taste or habit. They’re an attempt—likely unconscious—to recreate cherished moments from childhood.

I’m sure you have your own experiences that still draw you back, if you really think about it.

The Last Interview (KTOO)

Quite out of character, I had been looking forward to today’s interview with Juneau Afternoon host Bostin Christopher on KTOO.

I prepared my bike and riding clothes for the 21-mile round trip to downtown Juneau. Around noon, I rolled Lucy out of the hotel into the 60-degree sunshine and pedaled past the airport, where we’ll depart in a couple of days.

As we were easing onto Highway 7, a woman screamed something at me from a passing car. I figured she was just another cyclophobe. They’re out there—trust me.

But two miles later, I saw a sign: “No bikes or pedestrians.” Only then did I realize she’d been trying to help me by shouting a warning.

The next exit was about a mile ahead, so I took it and hopped on the bike path running parallel to the highway.

This turned out to be one of the most beautiful and fun rides of the entire journey. With the wind at my back, I reached the KTOO studios an hour early. So I rode past downtown, onto the boardwalk, and joined the crowds of cruise ship tourists milling about.

I took my time—something I rarely do on these rides—and explored the tiny city before heading back to KTOO.

Inside, the receptionist opened a closet so I could park Lucy, then led me to the studio and offered me a glass of water. I changed into my R4P shirt, settled into the studio, and did some breathing exercises to center myself.

Bostin immediately made me feel at ease—a talent of his, I suspect, after four years of community radio. He recorded both audio and video, and the conversation lasted about 20 minutes.

Later, as we retrieved Lucy from the closet, I asked him how locals distinguish between South Juneau—where we were now—and the northern part where my hotel was located, about seven miles away. The north and south sections are connected by a narrow corridor of highway, homes, and businesses pinned between the Gastineau Channel and Mount Juneau.

Bostin explained that my area is called the Mendenhall Valley, or “the Valley,” while we were now in downtown Juneau. Across the channel is West Juneau and Douglas.

Outside, Bostin snapped a few photos of Lucy and me in the fresh Alaskan air. Lucy is such a media hound. She loves the limelight. Loves having her picture taken. Thinks of herself as a bike model.

The wind was in my face on the return trip, so it wasn’t as quick or easy. But the snow-capped mountains northwest of the channel were breathtaking. I kept stopping to take photos of the range until I finally realized I’d never make it back at this rate.

Other than the yogurt and breakfast bars I’d eaten that morning, I hadn’t eaten all day and was working up an appetite. I also wanted to find the bike shop, so I changed the GPS destination and rode there—just to see where it was, even though it was closed.

Then I headed back to the hotel.

It was a perfect ending to a wonderful R4P. A quiet ending. On my terms.

A more dynamic cyclist or promoter might have been out meeting people and talking up R4P. But that’s not me. I’d done my part. I’d given it everything I had. And now, it was time to unwind.

By 8:00 p.m., I was asleep.