AMetaphor for Cancer - When a Ride is More than A Ride

I was really ready for the ride. I had actually trained at least 3 times a week. I had even done some hill training! I had built my strength and stamina and felt like I was going to knock out the 70 mile course in great time with my amazing team...pictured above - My husband, Rob, my son, Aaron and my great friend, Dan Majors. We jokingly called ourselves the Fantastic Four and were determined to cross the finish line as a team.

The weather in Moab was cool in the morning and I thought we were destined to have an incredible day! Little did I know that it was to be incredible in many other respects. We rode 2 miles to the start line and joined the hundreds of other riders setting out on the course that day. We had chosen the 70 mile rolling course. We had previewed the course the day before and knew that it was a bit hillier than we were expecting. We weren't worried - we knew that we were ready.

There were 123 riders for Team in Training on the course that day - about 2/3 were doing the full 100 miles and were tackling the most challenging hill climb I've ever heard about. The other third were on the route with us, doing either the 42 mile route or the 70 mile route. I felt incredibly strong as the day started. We were rolling along, up and down the hills, faster than I usually ride around Lake Hefner! The canyon walls were playing tricks with our minds. It would look like you were climbing, but you were actually coasting downhill. The road would appear to dip, but you had to climb...the angles were really surprising us! We learned to ignore perceptions and to ride by feel.

At the top of a couple of the tougher climbs (at least to me), I had to stop and take a hit or two from my inhaler. Rob was riding behind me and kept hearing me cough...I was starting to feel like something was in my throat. After one especially hard climb, I had to stop again. We were at mile 24 and I had just taken my 6th hit of the inhaler, not counting the 2 I always take at the beginning of a ride. I simply could not catch my breath. I stood on the side of the road with my team and knew that I was at a crossroads. I could push on and risk ending up in the SAG (support and gear) wagon at best or in the ambulance at worst. I stood on the side of the road and cried in Rob's arms. I send the rest of the team on and Rob agreed to keep me company as we attempted to ride back to the finish line. I felt like I was letting everyone down: the people I was riding for, my team, my husband, myself...just everyone.

We rode a few miles back to the last rest stop and took some time to really let me catch my breath. It was there that I learned that some type of local bush was pollenating the area - the river was literally coated in yellow there. Everyone was having allergy problems, but due to my asthma - I was having serious problems. That area was outside of the canyon walls and ws in a flat lands area that let the wind whip the pollen around like crazy. I now believe that the pollen was a bigger problem for me than any hill I faced that day.

I was determined to at least make it back...whatever it took. So Rob and I started riding back to the finish line. We went at my pace and he was always there for me if I needed a slight push up the next hill. If it was just too much, I got off the bike and walked it up the hill - but I went to the top of the hill. As we moved back into the canyon walls, I found I was actually starting to breath better. The temperature had risen to an unseasonably warm 97 degrees - it was HOT!

Rob and I found at the end that we were actually riding as fast as we had been at the beginning and rode across the finish line at noon that day. We rode in together - our first Team in Training event to get to finish side by side. We were even the first two TNT riders to cross the finish line of the people who were only doing the 42 mile route...and we had ridden 48 miles at that point. We patted ourselves on the back and rode the 2 miles back to the hotel to get the van to bring in any of our riders who wouldn't be able to make the 2 mile ride back to the hotel.

As we sat in the near 100 degree heat that day waiting for up to 5 hours for our teammates to finish, we heard tale after tale of people finding that they simply couldn't complete the course they were attempting. Very very few people who set out to ride the full 100 actually finished it. One of our teammates finished the massive hill climb, but could not finish the "easy" part of the ride; his ride ended at mile 63 and the SAG wagon brought him in. Another teammate who had done 7 century rides and usually knocked them out in great time made it to mile 95 before being sidelined with horrific leg cramps. He also was brought to the finish line in the SAG wagon.

At some point later as I started to reflect on the day, it hit me that the entire ride and experience was much more than just a ride; it had become a metaphor for the battle with cancer. Some people do everything right. They eat well, they exercise, they go to church, they are kind, descent people - but cancer comes anyway. Cancer does not discriminate; it will strike where it pleases. Cancer doesn't care what your plans are - it puts you at a crossroads where you have to make a choice about how you want to deal with it. That is what my ride represented that day.

I could cry all I wanted. I could say "why me?", but in the end I had to face the simple truth that there wasn't anyone to blame...I just had to make NEW plans based on my new situation. How many cancer patients have had to sit out a year or two of school, take a leave of absence from work, or make a tough decision to change some aspect of their life in order to fight the cancer. The fact that I was able to recover on the journey to the finish line is indicative of those who find that after cancer they live a fuller, better life. The finish line came to represent a life without cancer, through cure or remission. More and more people all the time make it to this glorious finish - a cancer free life. That shows us that the money we raise for research is working and that is what I take away from my ride that day.

Mike, who made it through the hardest part of the ride only to have to surrender at mile 63 came to represent the patients who make it through difficult treatments or bone marrow transplants and think that they are now in the "home stretch" only to find that something simple like a cold, a flu bug, a minor injury can be all it takes to keep someone from reaching the finish line. I thought of Mitchell Whitaker, who had the survivable type of childhood leukemia, who was supposed to make a complete recovery, but somehow never made it. We have so much to learn about the treatment of cancer and why people can make it through the hardest parts of treatment and still lose a battle to something that should have been no big deal. We need to make sure that the treatments we give don't weaken people so much that they cannot survive a minor cold or flu. We need to have better options to help people reach that finish line.

Don, who could almost see the finish line when he was sidelined at mile 95, represented the hardest scenario to me. I kept thinking of Frank Ayres - a 22 year survivor of childhood leukemia, who beat the odds and fathered a child with his beautiful wife, who had everything to live for and an amazing life ahead of him - who was blindsided by the return of his cancer. His entire future was within his grasp...he had survived so much, only to not get to cross that finish line. He survived the hills (the treatments that poison the body as much as they heal), he survived the rolling course (the ups and downs that every survivor faces) and he never saw it coming. But there it was...the return of lymphoma...and he was fighting that, as well. The lymphoma became leukemia and was simply not to be defeated. And just as Don could not beat the cramps that took over his legs, Frank could not defeat the blood cancer that took over his body. So close to the finish line, but absolutely out of his reach.

It hit me that all the people at the rest stops and all those who donated to our fundraising efforts represented the family, friends, doctors and nurses that work to keep the cancer patients moving ever towards that finish line. Would I have been able to finish without them? No way. I needed everyone of the people I was riding in honor of and in memory of...I repeated their names over and over on every hill just to get to the top. I needed the people providing water, gatorade or just a friendly smile. I needed Rob saying he would never, ever leave my side.

Nine and a half years ago, I was at that crossroads. I received the diagnosis of leukemia and couldn't believe that I had to divert from my chosen path and give my attention to a battle that I didn't expect. I had other plans. I had worked hard. But life and cancer intervened and I had to play the hand I was dealt. Rob never, ever left my side. My friends and family and amazing medical team were always there for me and I reached my finish line of remission. And yes, I rode across that finish line stronger than I had started. I don't know how that could be, but it happens. Maybe I learned how to really enjoy life. I know I try to live a life worthy of the gift I received of remission. And I work hard every year to raise money to bring others across that same finish line.

Your donation matters. Thank you for always giving so generously. I don't care whether it was your change from the cupcakes that you dropped in my donation box at the bakery or if it was a huge check...it all matters. It all adds up to more and more people crossing the finish line and living a life without blood cancers. You are the true heroes that inspire the people who fight to live. You bring us the hope we all need. You are changing the world. I will forever be grateful.

Lessons on becoming a real cyclist

Yes, I continue to train on the bike. This is pretty much unheard of for me. I am riding at least 3 times a week and pushing myself to new distances. I reached 24 miles on the bike 2 weeks ago - my third longest bike trip ever. I did 30 miles this past Sunday. That is my second longest ever - only beaten by the 72 mile bike ride around Lake Tahoe last year!!

I decided that since training was going so well, it was time to return to the use of clips. I know...I suffered a lot of injuries before using them, but they really help on the hills, so I have to be brave. I did lots of research about clips this time and chose one that won in every review. So far, 2 rides in, I love them! I can actually get out of them easily and not feel like I am forever trapped on my bike!

This morning, we did the ride around Lake Hefner, but started from our house, which adds an extra 4 miles to the route. That sounds easy enough, but the path from my house to the lake is fraught with danger - at least in my mind!! There are curves at evil times, with poles to maneuver around on wooden bridges and the steepest climb I've tackled outside of Tahoe. I hate it every time we ride it. It kind of scares me. I'm usually screaming in pain and frustration when I make it to the top of the hill. This morning, Rob really didn't want to ride, so he turned back. This left me and my son, Aaron to continue on. I thought I was going to cry. The tears formed in my eyes because I was so scared being clipped in and trying to climb this stupid hill. I nearly turned back.

But I just couldn't. I forced myself to think of all my honored heroes and all the people who WISH they could have the chance to tackle that stupid hill, and I got up it. I didn't set any speed records and I didn't let any tears fall. I gathered all my strength and got to the top. As hard as it is climbing the hill, the angle coming down is equally frightening. Today marked my first time to ride the way home all alone (Aaron stayed at the lake to do a second lap). I took it so ridiculously slow, but then I took a deep breath and plunged down the hill. All in all, I felt like I won a small victory over that route today.

Sunday, I'm hoping to make 35 to 40 miles. I've got to get some speed up, but I still need to keep building the distance. I think I'll do just fine on that!

Now for the real kicker!! When the bike shop put my pedals on and had me test them out, they noticed I was in an odd position on my bike. Turns out the man who fitted me on it really didn't do it right. My seat was too high, it was way, way too far back, my handlebars were too wide and they were too low. For the 250+ miles I have on my bike, I was completely out of position, riding on my left front pelvic bone (you don't want to know how that feels to a woman's anatomy!!) and unable to balance the bike. OMG!! So, after my TNT Coach Christine Leonard fixed the bike, I am now riding in much more comfort than ever before. I feel a new strength as I tackle the hills - largely because I can actually get force behind my strokes now that my knees are over the pedals! It is a miracle that I made it around Tahoe in that bad of a bike position!

What's my message for this entry? There are things that scare the bajeezus out of all of us. For many it is cancer or death. For me, it is hills and corners and falling on my bike. I'm tackling my fears to help raise money so others have an easy time with the battle against cancer. We can change this world and sometimes it is as simple as one person saying - I can do this. Well, this is what I can do. I hope you'll help by making a donation. Thank you!!

Let the Training Begin!!

I've actually been training this year. While I still haven't walked much, I've already done 4 training rides on my bike - this time without any crashes or falls. If you remember my last biking event, I only did 8 training rides before riding 72 miles around Lake Tahoe. On 2 of those 8 rides, I had pretty good crashes. On one, I cracked a couple ribs and had to drop my triathlon training; on the other, I opened a huge hole on my knee and couldn't ride for several weeks. (Are you getting the sense that I am a klutz?? It's true!)

Sundays have traditionally been my one day to sleep in, but now I get up at 5:30 in the morning and ride around Lake Hefner. We've lengthened the ride by riding from our front door to the lake, all around it, and back home again. By this Sunday, I should be at 20 mile rides. I plan to reach at least 50 mile rides by sometime in August.

I will be riding about 70 miles at Moab, Utah with my husband and my son. I am truly tickled for Aaron to see why his dad and I are so passionate about charity work. I think he will be amazed at the number of survivors on the course. I think he will be touched by the number of people riding in memory or in honor of loved ones. This will give him exposure to the importance of giving back.

My favorite riding jersey - other than my Team in Training purple jerseys is a Cupcake jersey...it is the cutest thing ever!!! I'll post a pic of me with my husband and son and me in full cupcake mode soon! Thank you for helping me to save lives!

Three Events in Five Weeks

I may truly have lost my mind this time. I am going to do 3 endurance events in a five week period. Due to cake obligations and the time I wanted to spend with my dad during his final days, I did not do an endurance event in the Winter or Spring, like I have in the past. Now, I'm making up for lost time.

September will find me doing my second bike event - the Moab Century Ride in Moab, Utah. I will be "taking it easy" and am only doing the rolling 70 mile ride. Three weeks later, I will be on the course of the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco for my fifth time. Eight days later, I will be doing my second Dublin Marathon in Dublin, Ireland. I'm hoping to raise $10,000 between now and then - $7500 on this page and $2500 on my Moab page.

As many of you know, my father passed away on April 25th. He was a valiant warrior in the battle against Congestive Heart Disease. One of his final gifts was to allow doctors to study him and his treatment so that future patients will be able to live longer, fuller lives. His lesson is a mighty one. It caused me to re-dedicate myself to working to change this world....one step at a time, one pedal at a time, one dollar at a time.

I have now marked over 9 years as a survivor of a very rare form of leukemia. I have also completed 9 endurance events for Team in Training and have raised tens of thousands of dollars for the cause. I would not be here if it weren't for the people before me who trained and raised the money for the grant that led to the drug that has saved my life. When I was diagnosed, I was told that I had an incurable, untreatable type of leukemia. People diagnosed with it today are told that they have a highly treatable form of leukemia. That changed in a mere 9 years!!!

I have seen the benefits of the research that comes from your donations. I have met the people whose lives have been saved and I have spent time with too many families who did not get the miracle they needed. We have the power to change the world. I hope you will join me in saving lives. Check back often, as I will post my training updates. Thank you for taking the time to visit my page!