John Gehan

The Epiphany of the Bike

True freedom is hard to come by, especially for a fourteen-year-old. When you’re young, it feels like the observable universe doesn’t stretch further than three blocks away from your house. No matter how scenic the locale, the same stroll across the same sidewalk will eventually lose its luster. That is, until the radical introduction of the bicycle into one’s natural habitat.

Looming large like the monolith before Kubrick’s apes, my brother’s all black, two-sizes-too-big mountain bike stood watch over the unused corner of our garage next to the deflated footballs and broken tennis rackets. However, on one warm May afternoon, some stray neuron convinced me to take the bike for a spin. in a flash, Prometheus had descended from the mountain and delivered me a revelation. Miles. I could travel miles. A distance once reserved only for especially gut-wrenching days in PE could now be conquered in minutes. I could access food, friends, parks, lakes, and all sorts of general oddities that I never could have imagined. I could pick a cardinal direction, put in my headphones, “accidentally‚” forget my helmet at home, and experience hours of freedom, exploration, and discovery.

Whether I was heading to the park with the jungle gym to try to do a pull-up, riding to buy another sandwich from Jimmy John’s, or just listening to an old Terry Pratchett book on Audible as I pedaled, I was always enamored by the fact that it was my choice where I went and what I did. Until the epiphany of the bike, I had never grasped that I could go somewhere without a destination in mind: my bike taught me that I can simply appreciate what happens along the way of life.

Now, a couple of years later, I’ve tried to keep that same spirit of freedom and exploration alive. At the start of my senior year, I had a vision of becoming the school mascot. I have always loved the idea of being the designated life of the party, and cheering from the sidelines of a football game didn’t seem too different from performing on stage. Never mind that our mascot hadn’t been in use for fifteen years or that the costume for it was long gone - I was determined to find some way to bring some life back to school after the dreadful quiet of last year.

A quick talk with my counselor led me to the Student Affairs office, and from there I was pointed towards the Athletic Director who sent me to Dean of Students. After I finally made it to Mr. Knize’s office, he let me in on a little secret. Even though we didn’t have a school mascot, we had something even better: a school spirit organization‚ with no members. No matter what anyone else would think, I felt like I had found my own buried treasure. Covid had done a number on the once proud Lone Rangers, but I was determined to resurrect the group to its former glory. With no members, I guess that made me the president, chief marketing officer, and treasurer.

Now, almost three months after my discovery, with the help of some incessant PR, the Lone Rangers are back celebrating touchdowns at home games once more! The five students I convinced into thinking this was a good idea now run down the sidelines with their flags behind mine, triumphantly spelling out J-ES-U-I-T. The feelings of the wind breezing through my hair and my classmates screaming and cheering from the senior bleachers as we run past are unforgettable.

Whether I’m sprinting down the sidelines on Friday night or taking another lap around the neighborhood on Saturday morning, I’m so thankful I learned the joy of spontaneity and the freedom of discovery. I know that I can chase after what I want and achieve so much by taking a trip off the beaten path, all from my bike.

Grant Kostos

Finding Yourself In 15 Miles

As I stood in Texas’ scorching June heat, surrounded on all sides by navy blue shirts bearing the Reedy Lion, I stood out like a sore thumb. If my ginger bird’s nest of hair didn’t make me stand out enough, the gold cross set on the navy field of my shirt definitely did. I was the only one wearing something that had a Jesuit cross on the front.

While the rest of the group wore shirts for the nearby Reedy High School, less than a mile from our houses, I would travel 15 miles south to Jesuit Dallas for freshman year. We stood with our arms around each other. Field Day had ended, and though the moment was filled with happiness, a twinge of sorrow had begun to set in on us collectively. We were taking our last middle school picture.

Over the past eight years, we had spent every moment together and when we weren’t in school, we could always be found at the basketball court next to the school, usually playing tackle basketball. We were as close as brothers.

“Yeah of course I’ll still live here,” “of course I’ll keep in touch,” and “we can do something every weekend” were my words of reassurance to the guys.

I know 15 miles doesn’t sound like a lot, but when I had been hanging around the same six blocks for the past eight years, 15 miles seemed really far away. And those 15 miles got much more real when I realized that out of the 290 guys in my new class, I knew none of them.

My first few days at Jesuit made me feel like I was 15 miles away from everyone around me. Entering Jesuit, walking down the cobbled sidewalk to the school’s front doors, was the most daunting walk of my life. In my mind, I was a drop of water that had been dumped into the ocean without anyone noticing. It seemed like everyone else already knew each other and were best friends, while I was the unknown face in the crowd. I felt like all I had to talk to my classmates about was the NFL. The distance was no longer just mile markers away from my previous friends, but instead, a mental separation between myself and my new classmates.

Over the past four years, I have made my goal every day to cut down those 15 miles. And, whether it was by simply saying hello or joining a new club, I have found ways to connect with other guys in any and every way possible.

I joined the school paper, The Roundup, where I was able to collaborate with both freshman and upperclassmen to improve my writing skills and express myself in ways I did not believe were possible. The Roundup allowed me to lay a groundwork for friendship that I was able to build on through icebreaker discussions after I wrote articles about sports and rap music.

As I have gone through Jesuit, engaging in campus ministry has also given me opportunities through leading retreats like Kairos. I have been able to connect with my classmates on a deeper, more personal level and recognize that they place a value on spiritual growth that I could not find anywhere else. By exposing myself to as many opportunities as possible, I have been able to close the 15-mile gap, both physically and mentally, as I have come to realize the love and value I place in my classmates and their love and value for me.