Father Jim Sullivan, the rector of the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Waterbury, Connecticut, enjoys pushing himself physically; but a five-day, 365-mile cycling race of the Tour de France’s “Circle of Death” in the Pyrenees — a mountain range between France and Spain — was “the most physically challenging thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“It was unrelenting, but it was also the most exhilarating,” Father Sullivan told the Register. “And it was deeply prayerful, probably the most prayerful experience I’ve had since I became a priest.”

However, the ride was not without a purpose beyond simply overcoming the challenge. Every year since 2015, the priest has utilized his lifelong passion for cycling to raise scholarship funds, defraying costs for the Catholic Academy of Waterbury’s inner-city students and families, nearly half of which are at the federal poverty level.

As of July 27, Father Sullivan’s ride has inspired parishioners and others to give more than $175,000, which will likely eclipse $200,000 as donations continue to pour in. This is the most since he started cycling annually for charity, the previous high being $116,000 in the initial year, when he and 10 other priests rode from Torrington, Connecticut, to Emmitsburg, Maryland, where St. Elizabeth Ann Seton — the first canonized American saint — founded St. Joseph’s School, blazing a trail for the American parochial school system.

“People who gave are truly helping those in need,” he told the Register. “The mission of our school is truly Catholic.”

Yet the “Circle of Death” is not for the faint of heart, especially for a 63-year-old priest. The 11-peak route, which starts in Pau, obtained the moniker more than a century ago when Octave Lapize — the winner of the 1910 Tour de France — called race organizers “murderers” after its incorporation in the legendary race. Nevertheless, from July 1 to 5, Father Sullivan joined more than 200 others in a race organized by Haute Route, which offers amateur riders multiday cycling events.

Despite the hardships, steep climbs and pain, Father Sullivan never forgot the impetus for the ride and his ministry for those following his efforts back in Connecticut.

“This was a prayer for me,” he told the Register. “And I think it’s good for people to see that their priest is willing to empty the tank a little bit and put in the physical effort and push.”

Enduring the Pain With God’s Grace

Father Sullivan longed to emulate his mom, Phyllis, who was also a cyclist in her own right. In 1948, when she was 17, she rode more than 325 miles from Waterbury to Montreal, much to her son’s amazement, as it was before GPS and cellphones. She would also ride to locations throughout New England, particularly Provincetown, Massachusetts, which lies at the tip of Cape Cod.

“My mom shares this [passion] with me when I’m like 14,” he told the Register. “And, of course, as a young boy, I thought, ‘Well, if my mom can do it, I can certainly do it.’”

Since then, cycling long distances has become a “muscle memory” to him, while simultaneously being a “very meditative, very prayerful” exercise. Indeed, Father Sullivan biked the same routes his mom completed. When he was ordained in 2014, after years in the building and contracting business, he decided to integrate cycling into his ministry. But he also deeply admired the Tour de France, longing to “see what it was like,” as he told the Register.

The opportunity arose when he found Haute Route before deciding on his next cycling charitable venture. Prior to France, Father Sullivan trained for the “Circle of Death,” often in the evening, due to his numerous duties as a priest, where he would “come back at like 10 or 10:30 at night, after it was completely dark out.” Coincidentally, or Providentially, the race began and ended near Lourdes, which he had never visited.

“I said, ‘Why don’t we make this a bike-ride fundraiser for the school and also a pilgrimage,” Father Sullivan told the Register. “So that’s what I did.”

When his sister, Veronica — who is a Sister of Life — heard her brother was to do another physically demanding challenge, she “prayed fervently” for his safety, just like when he swam across the Sea of Galilee in October 2022.

“She is most definitely concerned for my well-being and for that of the church that I pastor,” he told the Register.

Journeying with a pastoral assistant and her husband, who are also travel agents, the priest spent several days in the Pyrenean town, even celebrating Mass with English-speaking pilgrims in the grotto where the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to 14-year-old peasant girl St. Bernadette Soubirous. The site has been credited with 70 miracles approved by the Vatican, and hundreds more faithful attribute healings to the grotto’s spring water. Overall, the visit was a “deepening” experience in his faith, and he has begun to see “the beginnings of a little miracle in my own life” after praying in Lourdes’ baths.

Then July 1 arrived. The first stage would be nearly 100 miles, with a more-than-5,758-foot climb over the Port de Balès mountain. While not the toughest day in his estimation, it was a sign of rides to come. The most challenging would be the third stage, when riders had to conquer Col d’Aspin (4,885 feet), La Hourquette d’Ancizan (5,131 feet) and the Col du Portet (7,267 feet) in one day.

“You’re up 5,000 feet, you’re down; you’re up 5,000, you’re down; and you’re climbing 7,000,” Father Sullivan told the Register. “You either do two or three peaks in one day and some days we’re pretty much constantly climbing and, you know, 789 degrees, 10 degrees, 12 degrees. Our steepest was 17 degrees and there are no breaks.”

Yet, through the five stages, which typically lasted six to seven hours per day, Father Sullivan could still marvel at the snow-capped mountains and the natural beauty, often asking himself, “How did God form all of this?” Moreover, he knew his pain was temporary; for others, temporary pain is seemingly a luxury.

“I was thinking that some people are in pain all the time,” he told the Register. “They’re not for three hours — they’re in pain all the time, and the next day they’re going to be in pain; and maybe for the rest of their life, they’re going to be in pain. And so that was one of my big meditations on the bike: the endurance to live through the physical pains of life.”

Pushing to the Limit

Father Sullivan believes he was the only priest participating in the “Circle of Death” race. Indeed, he may have been the only cyclist riding for a charitable cause, for when other riders discovered his purpose, they were fascinated by his singularity.

“When the group found out that I was a priest and doing it for a cause, a number of the riders, three in particular, said, ‘I want to help you,’” the priest told the Register. “I don’t think doing it for a cause was normal. I think it’s just people taking a week off from work or whatever and challenging themselves.”

The riders’ camaraderie was forged mostly after a grueling day over a pasta, carb-loading dinner. Father Sullivan befriended several, including a man named Carl, who often clung together “while holding up the rear,” he said. During the third stage, which was a hot day, the priest was struggling to climb the Col du Portet, when suddenly he heard Carl yelling out to him from behind.

“He yells out to me, ‘Father, is that you in front of me?’ Meanwhile, I couldn’t even turn around,” Father Sullivan told the Register. “Then [Carl] just starts out loud: ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come.’ He prays the Our Father.”

The priest and Carl joined together in prayer and prayed for each other while climbing the highest mountain throughout the entire race. The moment was a “beautiful experience,” Father Sullivan told the Register.

Throughout the journey, others also offered their support to Father Sullivan and the Catholic Academy, including an executive from England and a CEO of a finance company, one of which told him, “Father, I definitely want to help your cause,” the priest recalled. “He said, ‘I’m very impressed that you’re here and that you’re doing this for the children in the school.’”

When Father Sullivan finally finished the race back in Pau, he crossed the line with four others, among the last 25 or so riders to complete the course.

Afterward, all the riders shared a beer and dined together, soaking in the “sense of accomplishment, fraternity and community,” the priest told the Register.

For Father Sullivan, the moment evoked St. Paul’s Second Letter to Timothy, “I have completed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.”

“In fact, that’s what I said when I finished on Day Five,” Father Sullivan told the Register. “It was a good feeling, and it was five days in a row. But I got to tell you, it felt good not to set an alarm on Day Six.”

After the race, Father Sullivan returned to Lourdes, where he buried parishioners’ written petitions in a mountain near the holy site as a “constant petition through the intercession of Mary,” and then visited Paris for much-needed relaxation and sightseeing. Now back home after two weeks in France, he is recognized by residents for completing the “Circle of Death” since the Republican-American, Waterbury’s local paper, provided daily coverage of his ride on social media. Due to the fundraising success, he is considering riding with Haute Route once again, but this time on a course through the Alps.

In the end, the priest hopes his ride is a witness for God’s sacrificial love, brings awareness to Waterbury’s Catholic community and serves as a model for men to push their physical and spiritual limits.

“Every man wants to be strong, not necessarily in his body, but strong in his spirit,” Father Sullivan told the Register. “Men today need to see another man pushing it to the limit. We’re created for more, not created for less. We are created for life.”