2

Armen and I set out energetically into the snowstorm. He wore my boots and I wore my dad’s. There was a lot of new snow with a good layer of slosh underneath. We got to the first monument and looked out over the water, paying respects. Then we took a moment of pause before I mounted; a moment of quiet curiosity for what this journey had in store…mentally and physically, for each of us.

Within the first two minutes of riding Armen it was clear that this was going to be no small effort on my part. We started up the backside of Congress hill, both (I’m pretty sure) with an enthusiasm and [both, I assume] with a growing respect for the impending challenge of the task*. For me it was the sheer holding on. I was relieved when Armen bent forward, allowing me a minute’s respite from the task.

As a Vipassana meditator there is a quality of resolve called Additthan (pronounced Ah-dee-tawn). This quality, translated to mean “Strong Determination” is occasionally invoked at the beginning of a long meditation, to set a goal of complete physical stillness throughout the duration. It can sometimes (especially when I first started!) be grueling when the pain of sitting begins to escalate, but the resolve is considered essential for the development of will and for the experience of subtle realization. I realized within the first few minutes with Armen that this was going to be an Additthan for both of us.

On the other side there was an exhilaration and a simple enjoyment to be outside with my friend in the snow, with a project. The air was quite cold, and I was glad to have my gloves along with me. By the time we reached the top of Congress hill, we began to illicit attention from passersby and loiterers. A man riding another piggyback in a snowstorm up and then down the biggest hill in town turns out to be a good catalyst for pointed ironic statements from witnesses. Of this variety there were one or two comments the nature of which slip my grasp…although I do remember one exchange. A woman pulled over in her car, rolled down her window, and asked loudly. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” to which I responded, “No thanks, I’ve got one already.”

I would say that there was a phase of the event, during which thoughts of the potential of not completing the task arose with some frequency in my mind. That would have been the first fifteen minutes or so. After we got down to the traffic light at the end of the long slope, met with a straightaway until the halfway point, a strong determination was beginning to take form. Armen and I can be pretty strong-willed guys, and that facet was starting to surface, dotted with a sense of humor about the situation. At times the humor would give way to the more immediate grimacing and the periodic primal groan. For me it was essential that Armen took rest breaks, during which he bent down to a right angle and I could lie slumped for a minute or so. A few of these and Armen shared that the rest breaks were becoming quite difficult for him as well.

I found myself in a situation analogous to running the Chicago marathon a few years back…pushing mental and physical limits while encouraging, and being encouraged by, a companion to do the same. We would utter inspirational remarks to each other as we went, mostly our beliefs for the potential of success. At some point the ante seemed to up itself from project to mission. We rounded the halfway point and Armen was showing signs of significant exhaustion. We continued.

There was an aspect of exhibitionism involved- for roughly the first half I would tend to swivel and grin to anyone happening to catch my eye. Especially in those moments when Armen would bend down and I would sprawl on his back, I noticed my desire to assure passersby that there was nothing wrong with either of us. After a while I was too determined or exhausted to put effort into that. It became a more intimate and unified venture.

It was a special moment when we discovered the strap. We had tried one version of the strap earlier on, me being the backpack and my arms being the straps, with little success. Finally we found the proper strap method, with one of my hands firmly clutched by one of Armen’s, and then sort of interlocking our other two hands around the first two. Did I mention it was really cold outside?

As we started back up the big hill, Armen said he was feeling downright ecstatic, which was a welcome surprise. At this point I was pretty sure we were going to do this thing. I was feeling very committed and engaged, resigned to the level of pain that this project was entailing. Armen had a certain way of sporadically clutching my legs which gave him a bit of a break but gave me joint pain for the next several days!

And there we were on the home stretch. The monument where we had begun almost two hours prior came into view as we continued to refine our alternating hand strap. There is a special appeal to go through grueling physical feats, pushed by force of will and with an appreciation for one’s own vitality- especially with a comrade. Finally we reached the monument and I dismounted. A thought that kept coming into my head after the experience pertains to the feeling of home. Portland is a new community for me and for Armen, and I have been thinking about what it is that makes a place feel like home. Not meaning this in a sappy way, but my experience with Armen contributed to my sense of Portland as my home; to my ties with the land and certainly with him as a friend and partner in crime.



*I had weighed myself a few nights prior and found my weight a bit greater than I had indicated to Armen.

Jesse Lynch
Munjoy Hill
Portland, Maine