Have you ever set out to go on a 1-hour run only to return home 25 minutes later? Have you ever woken up at 6 a.m. with every intention to hit the gym, and proceeded to hit the snooze button until your regular wake-up timetwo hours later? Have you ever made an excuse for being lazy? I know I have.

But I put this such laziness in check when I embarked on a five-day strenuous biking trip called Courage in Motion in Israel. Although I knew it would be an amazing trip, I hemmed and hawed about it for weeks. Should I take work off for this? Was it worth the long trip? Was I ready to bike for five days straight? What a schlep!

Of course, in the end it was one of the most significant adventures of my life. On October 30, 2011, sixty North American cyclists, including my parents (who had come from Calgary, Canada) and I, joined 55 disabled veterans on a five-day magical adventure through southern and northern Israel in an effort to raise funds and awareness for Beit Halochem Centers. Beit Halochem Centers in Israel provide a place where disabled men and women can participate in sports and related activities suited to their individual disabilities. The ride was broken into a 70-kilometer-a-day ride, a 100- to 120- kilometer-a-day ride and a hand-bike ride for some of the disabled veterans.

On Day 1, the excitement, energy and nerves could be felt across the country. We were met at the starting point by the disabled riders, who would be part of our riding team for the next five days. As we were making final adjustments to our bikes and gear, my dad motioned me over to meet a friend of his who would be riding the “challenger route” (100 to 120 kilometers a day). His friend was an extremely spirited, upbeat and fit man named Shimon. Shimon is a professional tandem cyclist who rides with his partner 100 kilometers on any given day. Shimon lost his hands and face in the Lebanon war in his early 20s. While Shimon’s face has undergone several reconstructions, his zest for life and determination made it impossible to tell that he had been through anything at all.

I reflected on this initial meeting as it painted a very quick and unimaginable picture of the journey to come over the next five days. I not only had a chance to speak with many other inspirational disabled persons, but, more significantly, I had a chance to ride with them through the Israeli landscape. I rode with my parents for the first few days on the 70-kilometer rides and then decided to embark on the 120-kilometer ride around Lake Kinneret on the fourth day. Each day a handful of tandem-bike disabled cyclists would join the ride. You think a 1,800-meter elevation climb is tough on a regular bike? Try a tandem! The pace and terrain of this particular ride were extremely strenuous and physically and mentally exhausting.

During the last 30 kilometers of the ride, I found myself struggling to stay ahead of the rear vehicle and ambulance while keeping up with the riders who were helping to pace me – the tandem bike!

“Sheena, we’re not leaving you here. Do you know how to draft?” the rear rider Eli asked as I told them to ride ahead. When I assured him that I knew how to draft, and thanked them for hanging back with me, it was business from then on. On ascents, I would pass them; on descents, they would fly by me; and on the flats, they would wait until I caught up to them from behind.

“Sheena, take this shooter,” Eli said as he reached into his back jersey pocket and handed me an awful-tasting strawberry-banana energy supplement. “Ya’ala Sheena Kadima, we’re almost there.”

It took me several minutes of riding behind them to appreciate the reality of the situation.

“Wait, Eli, how do you know it’s me behind you?” I asked.

“I can tell by your pedal stroke, Sheena.”

“Eli, how did you know this was a strawberry-banana shooter?”

“Because I trust what Benji (the front rider) gives me.”

“How do you handle going 90 kilometers per hour downhill without seeing where you are going?”

“Because it’s fun and it’s the best part of the day. And I am a little crazy,” he said jokingly in his broken English and very endearing accent. Eli was fully blind and was missing an arm. He, like several of the other riders, had been living this way for many years. Although it was impossible to imagine everything they had been through, and even more impossible to imagine how they found the determination and strength to overcome their weaknesses and disabilities, I couldn’t help but feel extreme excitement for them because I could see and feel that cycling had brought them back to life.

This five-day experience was not only an exhilarating one filled with more Israeli salad than one could imagine, but, more importantly, a humbling one. I learned that the meaning of laziness is definitely relative. I learned that my mom is way stronger than I thought she was. I learned that you can never eat too much shakshukah. I learned a new meaning of “teamwork,” as riders motivated each other to conquer the strenuous hills. And I learned that caring about matching the color of your bike jersey to the color of your socks is more than okay.

More importantly, however, I learned the true meaning of “anything is possible if you put your mind to it” and will without a doubt remember this experience for years to come.

Feature picture of Sheena Lister and Hannah Zalmanowitz, and main picture taken by Idan Peled Photography.