The Words of the Beltrami Family
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The Words of the Beltrami Family |
Pier-Angelo
presents his bronze medal to Father at East Garden on November 16.
Pier-Angelo Beltrami, art director for Global Image Associates, an advertising agency in the Washington DC area, was recently asked to tell the incredible story of how he won the bronze medal for cycling in the Paralympics in Seoul last October. The Paralympics [is in parallel], a division of the Olympics for disabled athletes, drew 4,000 competitors from 65 nations to the 1988 Games.
Walking into the elevator to the CAUSA International office on a cool April morning in 1986, I bumped into Rick Swarts. "Hi, P.A.," he said. "I had a dream about you." "Oh yeah? What was it?" "I dreamed you were going to the Olympics." "What?" "Yeah, I actually saw you competing in the Olympics." I chuckled. "Thanks, Rick. You made my day." I thought it was a good joke and didn't give it a second thought.
Then one night last winter as I was watching the Winter Olympics at Calgary on TV, they showed some disabled skiers in a downhill competition. Even with their disability they were skiing well, and I was very inspired. I myself had lost my right leg above the knee after a motorcycle accident in 1969. I started wondering if there was anything else for disabled athletes to compete in. I thought about it for several months.
Finally in April I called the Olympic Committee to find out how those people got into the Winter Olympics. They told me there would be a bicycle race for disabled athletes in Nashville, Tennessee, at the end of May that might be the qualifying race for the Olympics. That aroused my interest, but I felt totally unprepared. Although I had been riding a bicycle once a week around Washington as a way to lose weight, keep in shape, and get some fresh air, I had never raced on a bike. But I prayed about it and felt I should do it. So I started to prepare from the day I called.
With the help of a friend I met on a bike path, I began cycling about 50-60 miles a week. I was told that to really prepare for the race, I should be doing 150-200 miles a week. Nevertheless, at the end of May I went to Nashville.
On the Sunday morning of the race, I got up at 5:00 a.m. for pledge in my hotel room and couldn't go back to sleep. Around 6:30 I called the organizer to double-check the time of the race, which I had been told would start at 9 a.m. But the man said, "Everyone's already gone to the starting place and the race will begin at 7 o'clock." They had changed the time and hadn't told me because I was staying at a different hotel from most of the other racers. I was in shock.
I jumped into a taxi with my bike, desperately praying that the spirit world would get me there on time. When I finally got to the starting place, they had been waiting for me, amazingly, for half an hour. That was unheard of! I put the wheels on my bike, jumped on, and bang the race started.
I was a totally inexperienced racer and I didn't know what I was doing. At one point my foot slipped off the pedal, forcing me to a brief stop. But five other racers crashed, leaving only eight of us in the race. Way before the final sprint, Kyle Underwood -- the one favored to win -- dashed off all by himself to take first place. Then everyone started going like crazy, so I did the same, and much to my surprise, I came in second! A month later, I received an official letter from the Olympic Committee saying that my second-place showing qualified me to go to Korea. I couldn't believe it.
I was amazed and overjoyed, but I was worried. How could I ever make a good showing at the Olympics having only four months to train? I started to pray to really find out if this was God's will or just my own ego trip. Through my prayer, I realized that to go to this event would be a historical opportunity. This would be like no other Olympics that would ever occur, for this was Father's Olympics. It was going to be in Korea, and Father's children were going to be in it. It would be something very, very special. It would be an honor just to be able to participate. Even though I knew very well I had no chance at all to get a medal, I felt a sense of mission. If I was to participate, then God would show me the reason why I had to do this. I would just have to make the best effort possible.
I started to train every day. I worked in my office during the day, and every evening I rode about 30-50 miles. I tried to get in 200-300 miles a week. But when I prayed, I received that I must take my training very seriously. It was hard because I felt I had no chance whatsoever to win. Here I was, almost middle-aged, with no training and no experience. All I had was a pink bike and a desire to do something good for God.
In retrospect, I realize the spirit world had been preparing the way for me. For example, I started going bike riding three years ago. One day my mother sent me from Italy a very expensive, custom-made racing bike. (For some reason, I decided to have it painted pink. I will explain later the cosmic significance of that.) When we moved to Virginia in 1987, we were living practically next door to a bike shop. Washington is also one of the few cities in the country that has good bike paths.
As I prayed, I knew that fulfilling the training was going to get harder and harder, but I wanted to offer that hardship up to Father.
It became more and more difficult to find time to ride because my workload at the office was increasing and my family needed attention too. So I could ride only early in the morning or late at night. But I knew if I continued only on a flat course, it would not be enough to develop endurance and power. My friend suggested that I take some time off from work to get the most out of the time left prior to the race. I asked my central figure in the office about it and received permission. I decided to go to Colorado because training at that high altitude would help me get more red blood cells into my system and help me build more stamina.
On my way to Colorado I paid a visit to Kyle in Ohio. We went out training together for a few days and became very good friends. I drove to Colorado following part of the same route I had taken while working with Father's 21-city tour 14 years ago. I even stayed at the same motels where our team had stopped. It was like a pilgrimage for me, going back to the days when I first joined the church. When I got to Colorado I established a strict 40-day regimen of prayer, study, and training.
The
U.S. bicycle team in Seoul: Kyle Underwood, Pier-Angelo Beltrami, and
John Rhinahrt.
I was up early in the morning, climbing the roads for 5 to 10 miles. In the afternoons I would go on long rides of about 30-40 miles. This was often very difficult because of the weather. I was alone most of the time, so I just had to push myself to go up those hills -- rain or shine. It was summertime, but at 13,000 feet over the Vale Pass, it can get pretty cold. At times I felt ready to quit because it was too cold and too painful. But then I would think, "Hey, if I quit now I can never hope to win anything!" I endured because I realized I was getting better.
Uphill I had to go very slowly. With every push of the pedal, I would think of something to indemnify: the home church that I didn't do; the goal of 1-1-1 witnessing that I didn't realize; not being a good enough husband; not being a good enough father. In this way, my riding was a time to pray and talk to Heavenly Father. Many times I deeply felt the heart of God. Being out there by myself was a lonely but intensely spiritual experience. I realized if I could get a medal, possibly a gold medal, I could offer it to True Parents representing all the American members. It would be as if the American members were giving a medal to our True Parents in recognition of their tremendous sacrifice and suffering here in this country. I felt that, actually, Father should receive many medals -- even from the United States government, which has mistreated Father so terribly. When I realized this, I said to myself, "That's it! That's why I should strive to win a medal. If this can bring any comfort to True Father, I will do it!" I felt this determination so deeply that I went wild to train even harder.
Later on in Seoul, other athletes I became friends with told me, "I want to win this for my wife," or "I want to win this for my country." But, hiding my tears behind my glasses, I always felt, "I'm doing this for God. I'm actually here trying to win a medal for God." I knew that that motivation was the highest I could have. It gave me great encouragement and power to overcome the lonely, hard training and my lack of confidence. I went forward feeling I had to do my absolute 100-percent best every day. Then God would have a condition to work. It would be completely up to God and His will. My prayer condition was not so that I could win a gold medal but so that God could use the race for His will.
An amazing thing happened during my training in Colorado. My lawyer called me from Washington and told me that the Immigration and Naturalization Service was willing to help me expedite getting my U.S. citizenship. He told me that if I came to Washington the next day, I could have an interview, be sworn in, and become a U.S. citizen. So I flew in, and in one day I became an American citizen! Then I flew right back. I felt that my intense prayer of wanting to represent the United States was really being heard!
During the last part of my training I worked with two daring bicyclists I met out on the road who helped push me beyond what I thought possible and who became my good friends. The Olympic Committee sent me my official U.S. uniform, and I felt so proud that I was going to be part of the team. Altogether, my experience in Colorado was incredible.
I got back home just in time to receive my plane ticket, more clothes, and lots of pins from the Olympic Committee. I found out that the Paralympics were to be held shortly after the Olympics in the very same facilities.
When we got to Korea, we realized how incredibly loving and serving the Korean people were. Every athlete I talked to felt grateful and totally flabbergasted by the love they received. One guy even told me he wanted to defect from his country to live in Korea because he felt the people were so amazing!
The athletes who were going to compete with me were mostly in their twenties and in excellent shape, but I didn't feel any antagonism toward them. I just felt all of us from many different nations were there for a very high purpose: to participate in this incredible event at the Olympics for the glory of God.
When our Games opened, it was like watching the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics all over again, but this time I was seeing it from inside the stadium, marching in and waving the American flag to a jam-packed stadium of 80,000 applauding Koreans. Many of the athletes were struggling to hide their tears. The President of Korea gave a speech that was so close to what our Father would say in a similar situation: He talked about brotherhood among people, about peace and harmony, and about breaking down the barriers of prejudice and misunderstanding. It was a very moving moment.
I was able to testify to my roommates at the Olympic Village about who I was and why I was doing this. One of them was Bill Danby -- you might have seen him in the DuPont commercials. He lost both legs in the Vietnam War. We were able to become very close.
The
top three finishers in the 50-kilometer bicycle race: Gold -- Tristan
Mouric; Silver Seung Ye Lee; Bronze -- Pier-Angelo Beltrami.
No one else had a pink bike, and it may seem strange for a man to ride a pink bike. But Father likes the color pink because in Korea pink is the color of the Messiah. So I was riding a messianic bicycle, given to me by my physical parents but with the color of the True Parents. Guess what number I was given for the race? 40! When I saw that, I knew this must be because of God.
On the day of the race, my wife made a prayer condition. She prayed from midnight to 2:00 a.m. for my safety and for God's will to be done.
The race course was 50 kilometers -- about 35 miles -- around the Olympic Park course. It was a nice flat course, although a little bumpy. About 48 cyclers were competing, divided into three different classifications depending upon the degree of disability. There were 15 in my classification. I was in a team of three U.S. racers with the same disability -- Kyle, a brother named John Rhinahrt, and myself. As we started the race, I had to rely on the advice and suggestions given to me by Kyle and those who had raced before. I just played my part as a member of the U.S. team and tried to stay with the cyclists from the other countries who were stronger, especially those from France. Our team tried to share the burden of neutralizing the opposition. Whenever Kyle yelled over to me, "Go and catch that guy before he goes too far!" I would go do it. In the middle of the race, a French racer, with a Korean on his tail, just took off, and none of the rest of us could catch them. At that moment, I felt very discouraged. I thought, "There go the gold and silver medals!" I knew that unless God worked a miracle, nothing was going to happen.
The race kept going faster by the lap, and in the curve before the final sprint one of the riders from Austria fell down right in front of us, nearly causing everyone to crash. But I was able to dodge that bunch. As we approached the final stretch everyone started going like crazy. With about 100 yards to go, the other favored Frenchman was leading, with Kyle and myself on his tail. Fifty yards from the finish, I just concentrated on pumping my leg as fast as I could, praying, "Heavenly Father, this is it! Do Your work!" As soon as I passed the finish line, I realized there was no one next to me. I had just won the bronze! I raised my hand in joy and shouted, "Aboji, MANSEI!" in front of the Korean crowd. They were so surprised to see a Westerner exclaim in Korean, "Victory for God!"
I was incredibly surprised, and I felt overwhelmed by the love of God, whose power had made it happen. I knew it was a miracle. I felt that winning the bronze was the very best I could have done, and I just started to cry. The guys from my team congratulated me. They said, "The first two riders aren't part of our original classification because they have less of a handicap than we do. So as far as we're concerned, this is as good as gold!" I felt comforted by that and I prayed, "God, this is Your victory. You wanted me to do it and I did it." I felt that God was smiling.
This was an once-in-a-lifetime chance. I don't think I will be able to do it again for the next Olympics, but I'm sure that Un Jin Nim and Hyun Jin Nim, through the experience they had this year, will go on to gain a great victory. I really felt that the True Children, by participating in the Olympics, gave incredible joy to God.
The lesson I learned through this whole experience is that there is immense power in an indemnity condition. If you do your part 100 percent, God never lets you down. When you have an intuition to do something for God, check it in prayer and with your central figure. If it's what God wants you to do, then do it. Although we may not understand the significance of it right away, later on it can be understood. I was deeply grateful to be used by God for this great event.
I have always felt the need to comfort True Parents for what they have done for this country. We haven't done enough. I have repented and I will keep repenting. But I also want to have the guts to vindicate Father through my deeds and actions. The next challenge after this is to bring victory to home church.
I want to thank everyone who supported me with their prayers, especially my spiritual children. Only through the power of prayer was this victory possible. My leg muscles were not half as impressive as the muscles in the legs of my competitors. But God always waits until the very last moment. In that last sprint, when I felt there was no more hope for any medal, He pulled it off. I really feel God did it, not me.
When I finally had the privilege, at a conference at East Garden on November 16, of telling Father my whole story directly and presenting the medal to him, the smile on his face made me very, very happy. It made the whole experience worth every mile.