Wheelin' to Try

 It has been said that humans' greatest invention has been the wheel (second best has been the internet, followed by YouTube in my opinion). It is believed that the Sumerian people of lower Mesopotamia created the first version of the wheel. The wheel allowed for easier transportation of 'stuff'. Being able to move something from point A to point B came with a little less challenge than trying to push or slide it. I would be the first one to applaud their efforts in this creation because the wheel has been something has been a major part of my life. There is one set of wheels that I have been a major in my life.

My earliest memory of being on two wheels actually was not on a bike but it was a standup scooter. My aunts purchased me a scooter and my sister a bike for my fourth birthday. Seems a bit unfair, right? We are twins, shouldn't we get the same gift? (Admittedly, it might be the first time that I wanted the same thing as my sister). So I scooted around in envy of my sister. I remember it like yesterday when I took the opportunity to ride my sister's bike. She laid it on the ground, that was my moment and took it and rode with it. It was like a child their first steps, I spent time taking a couple of pedal strokes before having to place a foot on the ground to start again. Then it hit me, I was able to keep one pedal moving one after another until I was able to stay upright and ride off into the sunset. It was on and popping from that day forward.

Though I say I just got onto the bike back in 2021 but my riding was before that. I have noticed that riding bikes has been in my life throughout. I think of the ten-speed my cousin Shooby left at my house while in the sixth grade or the blue marauder aka my huffy from my senior of college (that was decorated by some good friends for my final college basketball game, thanks!) or the first road bike I purchased from Walmart for $120, which I thought was pretty steep. Until I looked at entry-level bikes that started around a grand. When I hit the streets on that white GMC Denali steel frame bike, no one could tell me I wouldn't be on the grand tour stage. The drop bar handlebars are what did it for me. This was not a mountain bike or beach cruiser, this was a road bike. Only those chosen got to ride these. 

It is only right that I still enjoy being on the bike as I did back when I decided to take the risk and mountain that bike when i was four. What I didn't truly know at that time was the freedom that those wheels would provide me. 

As an adult, I have rediscovered the joy that being on the bike provides me. It has taken me through many streets of urban cities in the states, to the mountains and beauty of Italy, and the cycling hotspot of Girona. I realize that I don't have a bucket list of cycling adventures, my bucket list is whatever I get to ride at that moment. Not sure where I am headed but I have faith that the two wheels will guide me places unknown and new connections that will last a lifetime.  Here's  to the journey ahead.

Let's Roll!!

Part 2: Welcome to the 208

     I was super excited about the opportunity to travel up to Idaho to begin my life as a college student-athlete. Yes, student before athlete. A few of the reasons I chose to play at the College of Idaho were: 1) strong academics 2) tradition of success for basketball 3) free laptop and 4) the chance to possibly be a freshman starting point guard. The free laptop with wifi had me hyped because it would be the first time I had my own computer and I could use it anywhere on campus. I know the bar is low for excitement for me but hey. 

    I remember packing up the borrowed Nissan Xterra from my mom's colleague and then hugging my granny before hitting the I-15 heading north towards Salt Lake; all I can see is the happiness yet sadness in leaving my family for the first time. Granny left me with some words of wisdom and of course praying over me (thanks for covering me, Granny). I and mom hopped in the Xterra, next stop: 2112 Cleveland Blvd.!

    As we are driving, I have a million different ideas of what my first days on campus would be like. I'm thinking about who my classmates would be, how will my teammates and coaches respond to me (I wore my hats backward and I had braids), what it will be like to sit in a college class, etc. The one thing that never crossed my mind was, would I be the only one? When I speak of being the only one, would I be the only Black student on campus? Can't be possible, my teammate Eric Hare would be a senior (E. Hare is Blaxican. A year later my Vegas brotha Eric Howard was on campus for one year) but I didn't see any others on the team rosters for the sports teams or webpage. What did I sign up for?

    I don't remember any of the conversations I and mom had along the way but I am sure she didn't say everything she wanted to. I know she was proud of me and excited that her son had made it but I am sure she was scared as hell dropping her son off at school and detaching for the first time. I can say that she raised me right with discipline, love, and provided me the opportunity to find my way. The day I signed my letter of intent, she stood in the room over my shoulder in her coyotes' shirt. As a junior, we had one discussion about college. I mentioned to her that I had a little buzz around me playing volleyball at the time and none from basketball surprisingly. But her words to me were: I don't how we will get to college, just as long as you go. That took any and all pressure off of my shoulders. I had made a promise to her many years ago that I would attend college and that day was coming. 

    Quick flashback. When I was in eighth grade, it was routine for the local magnet schools in the city to go around to the different schools to present themselves and their programs to the rising ninth graders. We would get geeked because it meant there would be assembly when they showed up which means we got to miss class. I was not interested in one particular school so I chose to apply to all of them and see what's up. No harm, no foul. Smokey (who was a childhood friend from elementary and later AAU teammate) had an older brother that graduated from Advanced Technologies Academy (A-Tech) which had been considered the top magnet in Nevada for some years. With reluctance and submitting the application on the last day (it was paper-based of course) I didn't give it a thought that I would be the only black person on campus.  In my two years at A-Tech, I was not the only Black person on campus I was part of a small group, maybe 20, among the other approximate 780 students enrolled. This environment was only preparing me for my future. It's amazing how God places you in situations that will only help prepare you for your purpose. I only spent two years at A-Tech for the lack of sense of belonging and I was not empowered. I do wish I persevered but at that time, I had to move on.

    Back to the story. As we exited  I-84 headed to Caldwell, a scene I had vaguely remembered from recruiting trip that April. As we made our way down the Simplot hill, cross the tracks and at the third light stood Albertson College of Idaho. This would be my home for the next four years. Only keeping it to myself but inwardly I said, 'mama I made it!' Anderson Hall is where I would stay my freshman year (these were single roomed dorms and unbeknowst to me, you had to maintain a certain GPA. I only spent one year there lol).  A few doors down from me was my teammate Andy Harper who would be my favorite teammates because of his fire and competitor nature which drove me. For incoming freshmen, there was an overnight orientation out in McCall. After loading and unloading the bus, it was very obvious I was the only one, at least in my freshman class. Survival skills from A-Tech were activated. 

    I remember returning to campus after orientation as the other students began to make their way back to campus that I was no longer in Kansas. The campus became less diversed than places I had attended in Vegas. As I crossed campus on a walk, someone stopped and asked my name. I told them who I wahich was followed by an invite to a party at the fraternity house that night. But the funny part of the conversation, without me saying anything, I was asked if I were on the basketball team (at this time I didn't know the term microaggression but this definitely was one). Thinking nothing of it, I answered yes. I later realized the reason this question was asked. During my four years at ACI I can count on three fingers at how many Blacks on campus different points, all of us were tied to the basketball program. Go figure. The beautiful part is that we were STUDENT-athletes. 

    At Albertson College, I had the opportunity to grow as a student, athlete, and even more importantly a person. I was embraced by the school community and those with a vested interest in the college. In my time there, I was never the best player on the team or make any all-conference teams but to my peers and season ticket holders, those who matter, I was regarded as one of their favorite people. Dan Lew (god rest his soul) told me, "you will be great, I don't care what your coach says. you will be great". I loved playing in the JA Anderson Activities center on Fridays and Saturdays during my four years but the special moments came for me after. After games, I would go hang out in the gym to talk with any fans who left, family members of teammates or play with coaches kids who were still around. Having these individuals express their gratitude and love for me is indescribable. Here is where I learned that I will carry the daily burden of my ancestors but wear it as a badge of honor. To know that I meant something to people outside my ability to dribble a ball, gave me value. Though at times I missed having a homeboy around that I could talk music or shows with, I did take instride new opportunities to learn from those he didn't look like me. 

    I was just a skinny kid from Vegas with a dream of playing ball and I did that. I am grateful for Coach Olson at Eldorado High School for him making that call to his alma mater for me. Thanks to Coaches Owen, Matlock, and Holly for seeing enough in me to positive contributor to the ACI community. As it has been said that growth that does not happen in comfort. I learned this lesson twice within an eight-year span. I look back with fondness on my days at 2112 Cleveland Boulevard because those four years helped prepare me to step into a world that mimicked the campus I inhabited. My lessons from being one of a few and the only one has allowed me to step before others and lead, it has allowed me to be comfortable in spaces where I may not always be welcomed. But I stand with pride and take honor in being the only one. 

Part 1: West Coast'n Summer 2001

     "D. Brown, who is recruiting you?" "What college you going to attend?" These were some common questions being asked of me during the fall and spring of my senior year. In the summer of 2001, is when I got my first taste of what a recruited athlete feels like. That summer I was able to position myself to be an attendee at the West Coast All-Star Camp being held on the campus of Cal St. Dominguez Hills over in Carson, California. When I say position myself, it was literally that. My two godbrothers were two highly touted football and basketball players in Las Vegas at the time. They had gained the fondness of Coaches Shawn and Merril who would help put them in a position to showcase their talent for college coaches. I ended up getting myself onto the AAU team through my association with them, just trying to see what I could make of the opportunity. By July, we had started to formulate a lot of buzz around the squad which meant we started to attract more talented players in the area. For a brief stint, we had my boy CJ Watson who went on to spend years in the league along with guys like Frank Brown (no relation), Martrell Johnson (Rest in Paradise Big Dawg), Robert 'Smokey' Young, Tae Matthews, Jason Petrimoux and of course my godbrothers, Keith and Kevin Richardson. Based upon that list of talent, I had to be like the 12th man on a ten-man roster. 

    The day came to travel to Cali for the camp. I had no spending money nor did I have the $500 fee associated with the camp. I don't know what I was doing. Who was paying for this kid to get to camp? The question never came up as we drove the I-15 headed to Los Angeles. Every second along the way I am just waiting for the bomb to drop, "do you have your camp money?" We had finally arrived in Carson on the campus of Cal St-Dominguez Hills. Outside of attending a football camp at UNLV or a quick stop at USC, it was the first college campus outside of Vegas that I would stay overnight--or that what I was hoping for. Seeing the college students walk on campus and knowing were would be housed with the summer school students, got me super excited. I thought to myself, 'bruh you can't stay, you don't have the money!' 

    The moment of truth came the next morning. We were lined up at the registration desk. I am looking around at the other campers with hopes of getting that college scholly. Some I recognized on the AAU circuit and others I would learn that such and such was the number X rated player in the country. As each camper gets processed, I become more and more nervous. I would be so embarrassed getting to the front of the line and being denied. I played it cool until they asked for the camp fee. I quickly moved to the side and looked at Coach Shawn, my heart was beating out of my chest. I'm thinking oh shit! But just like my other teammates who went down, the coaching staff took care of the bill.  UNREAL. MOMENT. OF. MY. LIFE. From that point on, I knew it was on and popping at camp.

     In the 8th grade, Coach Williams gave me the green light to be the man. That was followed up in high by the likes of Coach Washington and Thompson (God rest both men's soul, thanks coach!). While at Dominguez Hills, I had the opportunity to continue to showcase my talent. Though I loved being a part of a talented team, my role was strictly that of a reserve and defensive specialist. I had more to offer than just energy and making the opposing team's best player as miserable as possible. I could shoot, handle, pass, and still defend at a high level. I had just come off helping lead my team the state tournament and made some divisional/conference teams my junior years. Coach Zach (pseudo name) allowed me to flourish and put in positions to show what I had to offer. I will be honest, being a 5'9, 140ish pound guard really didn't scream D1 but it did say I could compete. 

    Camp was everything to me that summer. It was five days of being away from home, making new friendships, being able to learn more of the game, and gave me the chance to step out of the shadows of my teammates. There were some rumblings that I was being considered one of the best players at camp that week. That was a major ego boost, but I knew who the top guys were, it was a clear separation, but hey for a day or two, I was being talked about in the same category. My greatest memory from the camp came when we got the center stage game against University of Texas signee Kenton Paulino. My hopes for the game were to not be embarrassed and just to hold my own. I was able to do that and a bit more. Camp coaches were impressed with the D I played which led to some love being shown my way after the game. He did he thing as anticipated but I went out firing. They won the game but I won some hype. 

    My stellar play led me to be in one of the camp's end of week all-star games. What an honor that was. At the beginning of the week, I came with hopes of just getting into camp with no money in my pocket, and by the end of the week, I was standing on the floor with 19 others who performed well enough to get invited into the game. Out of the 8 players or so that traveled to LA, there were maybe two of us that made an all-star team.

    All I wanted was an opportunity. Walking passed the board daily where college coaches would sign to show their presence inspired me each morning we had a session. I took advantage of the early morning camp sessions and evening sessions that were optional. I did everything I could to position myself for an opportunity to play at the next level. The only regret I had about my experience was not believing in myself beforehand as if I didn't belong. I proved that I belonged. 

    In fall 2001, I received my first letter. It was pinned on Coach Thompson's bulletin in his office. When he said, "D, I got a letter for you", it all changed for me. It was from Western Washington University. YES!!!! My first letter. I don't know why the letter had already been opened but the excitement I showed quickly went away when I read who it was addressed to. It was addressed to Frank Brown (my AAU teammate) but he name was crossed off and mine was written just above. I had to call the coach and ask if it were meant for me and excited he said yes! Again, it was on and popping. 

    Though I never laced them up to be a Viking, that moment was everything to me. Receiving a recruitment letter is one thing but then talking with the coaches is another. That year I received some other letters and interest but nothing like WWU. They couldn't offer me a scholly but there was a small school in Caldwell, Idaho that was willing to take the chance on the skinny kid from the Northeast side of Vegas. Much love and respect to Coaches Owen, Matlock, and  Holly for seeing something in me. I believe what set me apart were my grades and character. 

    Never underestimate the power of timing and blessing. I am living proof of both. Ball was the vehicle but who I was the hook. 

When Is It Okay to Be Black?

When Is It Okay to Be Black?

This isn't a post about Black Pride but more so of permission to be who I am, black.  The stereotypes and bias' towards people of color are real and until there is the recognition that this happens, we will continue to perpetuate the sense of not belonging.  This is a daily struggle for myself along with many other people of color who wake up every day trying to figure out how to be themselves.  My appearance and my ancestry give me my 'blackness' but in the manner that I live is not considered being 'black'.  From the way I may talk to things I enjoy in life, there can be a separation of what is determined to be black. So how does someone determine if I'm black or if I'm acting so-called white?

The story of inner-city black male: comes from a fatherless home, mother working to take care of the family (or the addict parents), welfare recipient, either you play sports or sell drugs, graduating high school is a dream, attending college is merely a dream, have a child in your teens, and the infamous incarceration.  You know the same story.  Better yet, it is the one story that has been perpetuated. It makes me think that there is a checklist that we must abide by to get our so-called hood card.  When you decide to wear khaki pants, polo shirts, and boat shoes over the new trend with the Jordan's or Yeezy's plus whatever 'gear' that is in, then you are considered on the outside (better be sure to have your approved uniform). So those who live outside of this circle, are they not black enough?

I have heard the saying, 'do it for the culture' repeatedly stated. Merriam-Webster defines culture as the characteristic features of everyday existence (such as diversions or a way of life) shared by people in a place or time. My idea of doing it for the culture was to put on like everyone else, fall in line and conform to the cool. Doing things for the culture. But after some thought, doing it for the culture took on a different meaning to me. My ancestors lost their lives and advanced their people to one day not be the property of others nor be the illiterate population that we were once conditioned to. Doing it for the culture for me is to expand the boundaries of comfort and giving life to the mere idea of living limitless. The culture is much bigger than conformity. It is about trailblazing and giving others the permission to do what others had always thought was weird, different. So every day I do it for the culture!

In my journeys since leaving the United States in the fall of 2014, there has been one thing consistent. No matter where I go in this world as I am black. I take a sense 0f pride in that fact. I take pride because I get to be an ambassador for my culture. My mindset is that I may be the first black person or American that this person has met; that comes with great expectation. My goal is that they walk away with a different narrative that has been portrayed in the media and entertainment. I have the opportunity to change the minds and maybe even the hearts of those who had preconceived notions of blacks. 

As a people, we must understand that we do not have the right to determine if someone is black enough for the culture to accept them. Through inheritance, I have culture and that can't be denied. You nor I get to determine what the guidelines of blackness but we do have a responsibility in caring it forward. It is our job to understand that within the culture, there is a variety that allows for individuals to be unique without the fear of not being like everyone else.  Those who step out to show who they are can unlock the chains on others that give them permission to do them. 

So when is it okay to be Black? Every DAMN  day of my life. I love being black, that will never change. 

*Post was originally started April 2019

Day 6- Beziers to Sete

Today’s run is dedicated to the parents of my three brothers from another mother. This was in honor of Jessie Jordan, Paula Jones and Mattie Reed-Easton. Thank you for your sons, blood couldn’t make us closer 🙏🏾

So I guess we did this huh? Made it all the way down the canal to its final ending place into the Mediterranean Sea. As we passed the boating house to the lighthouse at the end of the walkway,  I watched Ben raise his fists in triumph and let out a loud ‘woohoo’. Isprinted pass him with whatever I had left in the tank with a smile from ear to ear to that said it all. When I got there, it was an emotional moment. Much more than anticipated. I got to my knees and just did quick prayer to the big G O D for watching over us along this journey. There were six people within distance who had no idea what was going and looked at us like ‘what the’. It didn’t matter who was around, because we did epic shit!  After our celebratory pics and touched the Mediterranean, we had to foot it into a nearby town (which added maybe another 5k to our awesomely exhausted legs) which was anti-climatic compared to what we just did lol. We were able to get a bite to eat and catch a taxi to the hotel (damn was that expensive. But yolo). Note to France: please get uber or some ride sharing service in the south, thanks!

As I sat in the backseat of the taxi heading into town, I just reflected on my life. How did I get here? Why was I deserving of such an experience?  A kid from a single parent household, who got free and reduced lunch shouldn’t be here. The kid who got bullied in third grade for being different.  The kid who didn’t end up on the wrong side of statistic (there’s many of those). No matter what stats say or my circumstances, they didn’t stop me from doing this. This is why I am so grateful because I am not supposed to be here but damn it, here I am!  I’m so overjoyed by this accomplishment for many reasons and it is an experience that will live forever in me. As my mother’s favorite bible verse goes, Phi 4:13‘I can do all things in Christ, who strengthens me’.  I was strengthen repeatedly through out.

There are so many memories that I will take from this experience that I simply can’t put into words. You have to go through it to actually understand what this is like. I am a true believer that some things should go to the grave with us. I have tried my best to put it into words for you to get a feel for it and I’m hoping that you have gotten some visual into these moments. Thanks again to Ben for letting me tag along and thanks to those who supported us along the way. I have no idea what it is like to be a celebrity but YOU reading about this journey sure has made me feel as though I am one. I am humbled by this. Merci

Ending numbers for this experience: two shirts worn, one pair of shorts, four pairs of socks, one hat, around 15 cokes, three bags of Haribo gummies, two water bottles, 252km ran (many more walked), countless memories, and one stronger friendship 🙏🏾  What a week! Thank you Canal Du Midi for welcoming our challenge and thank you France for your hospitality.

Day 5- Mirepeisset to Beziers

Today’s run is dedicated to the greats for me, Uncle Horace and Aunt Verlene. Thank you guys for being great siblings to my granny 🙏🏾

Full disclosure: very uninspired to write today lol My mind is on tomorrow and getting to Vegas at the end of the week! Day 5 was one well known to us at the beginning of the week as it was a part of the trail that was mostly uncovered which could cause some issues. We hit the ground running an hour earlier than normal to steal time before we faced the hottest time of the day. Along the path there opportunities for multiple stops as we ran  through smaller towns and villages. I have often been amazed at the beauty of these areas. I have seen a few different places I wouldn’t mind living. These areas are not what people tend to brag about when they speak of France. Persona Service Announcement: France is much bigger than Paris. Get to the south! There’s so much more to see.

It was a sort of a blur today after completing the first four days. We kept our heads down and trudged along (one reason because we wanted to beat the sun ad reason two, we are hurting lol). But when we did look up, we were blessed some amazing backdrops of nature. Rolling hills, trees, castles, and canal boats. Just breathtaking and another reminder to be grateful for now 🙏🏾 The coolest scene of the day was the tunnel about a mile before Colombiers.  Another cool scene was to see the seven ecluses  (Canal locks) at the entrance Beziers from the canal. I really felt the effects of running consecutive marathons over the course of a few days. I’m still feeling like I did physically yesterday but my mental took over as I had to battle weather conditions and my body saying ‘homeboy we better be now. Like right now’ lol. And when someone asks, ‘how are you feeling?’ Or ‘how are you doing?’ My response: I feel like I have ran multiple marathons and I am doing pretty good 😊

On the run, I asked Ben, ‘what is the biggest lesson you have learned on this journey?’  He quickly replied, “getting a hat” lol. This is in response to day two when he got a little too much sun. But he was touched the support and the well wishes people have been sending along the journey. It has helped give him that much needed push to get through it. My response to the lesson learned was attitude. My attitude has played a major role in me continuing on this trek and it has given me more appreciation for life. I have enjoyed the small interactions and hospitality by those we have encountered. My second thing was trust. He has to have the full trust in me and I in him to look after each other. That’s a lot of responsibility but it is something we signed up for. I also agreed with the support. The overflow of good lucks, you are doing something crazy (I think they mean awesome) , and how are you doing have helped tremendously. Please continue that support for one more day 🙏🏾

It still hasn’t set in on what I am actually doing. To think that I have ran  211km/131 miles in the last five days is hard to fathom. I can’t wrap head around that. I have made  the comment a few times to Ben about how I feel that I’m just on a normal Friday long run. When  we cross that imaginary finish line tomorrow there will be no fans chanting our names or volunteers putting medals around our necks, but this will be my biggest accomplishment to date (sport wise). I am looking forward to the opportunity of sharing stories with others and my hopes is that I give them some inspiration or words of wisdom that they will use  to do something crazy (I mean awesome here). Just know we only need permission from ourselves to do epic shit!

Day 4- Floure to Mirepeisset

Today’s run was dedicated to Jimmy Matthews, my niece’s father, who was taken away too soon in summer 2018. At the age of 10 I had never heard the word swag but years later after I reflect, you were the first cat with swag I knew 🙏🏾

After the great hospitality of Fred and Claire (they were amazing hosts for us!), we were dropped off at our starting point just before 8am. Knowing that today’s finish would leave us with only two days remaining, helped bring some joy after clocking the first 128 kilometers or so. Another overnight rainfall allowed for some softer terrain to begin the trek which delighted us (we spent a lot of time on gravel yesterday which I’m sure played a role in us not feeling the greatest. Or maybe we are just running too damn long 🤷🏾‍♂️🤣) and we took full advantage. Ben’s prayers to Mother Nature paid off as she blessed us with cloud coverage for the majority of the run. She even gave us rain for about a kilometer which helped keep us cool (side note: Ben told me it wouldn’t rain until 2pm so I packed my rain jacket away smh thanks bruh, great advice). Our number one concern during this stretch was keeping an eye out for the lightning strikes that were expected.

In our four days of adventuring, today was the best overall run as we were able to find a groove on the paths. We even had a middle school boy playing his trumpet at one lock as boats passed through the canal. But the MVP’s of the day were the lock keepers stands selling water (but I was powered by cola. I think I had 3 on the run today) and snacks as needed. Also, the smaller towns who’s restaurants sat along the canal. I appreciated the French fries and coke at the 36k mark. Honorable mention MVP was the older gentleman who thought what we were doing was so epic that he decided to take a pic of us to save as a souvenir (definitely a highlight of today. Just a reminder that ordinary people are used to do extraordinary things).

Injury update: my little niggle in the knee went away (I think, inshallah) but my left Achilles got angry towards the end the run. Im over here feeling like Kevin Durant. Oh and I found two blisters, one on the pinkie toe (it popped itself) and there’s another on the right big toe. My man Ben has some knee pain with some  blisters as well. Our thinking is ‘we only have two more days, we can do it!’  We will be in need of pedicures and massages come Monday.

Special birthday shout out to he youngest Brown, my niece Tori ‘Butt Butt’ Brown as she turned three today. Uncle loves ya girl!  We got two more days, I guess we are doing epic shit 🤷🏾‍♂️🙏🏾