December 16, 2007

Cycling Part II

Well, now I'm really having cycling withdrawals. We had to take my road bike out of the stationary trainer in the living room to make room for the Christmas tree. It makes sense since I am not able to use it right now anyway - a situation that we're hoping will change this week with the new treatment coming on Monday or Tuesday. My new friend and neighbor, Matt, is borrowing the trainer as he has been considering getting one, so it has all worked out nicely.
In my first posting about cycling I talked about the Ride for the Roses event in October of 2005 in Austin, TX for the LAF http://livestrong.org/. It's important to note that prior to this event, the longest ride I had done was for the MS Society in Santa Barbara, it was just over 30 miles and it was on a hybrid bike; a cross between a traditional racing bike and a mountain bike. I enjoyed it, the comaradery of group riding and felt empowered by my ability to personally effect the lives of people challenged by a disease that may limit their ability to do so themselves by raising funds from sponsors.
I was already interested in LAF through the books and time I'd spent on the website learning about the organization and it's very appealing, serious grass roots structure. There was/is a very low overhead/administrative percentage, meaning that the majority of the funds went to the programs and cancer challenged individuals it was set up to serve in the first place. Having done work with local non-profits, I look for that as a demonstration of the commitment of the organization to those the serve in a lean, focused and in-the-trenches approach, and they most certainly demonstrate that. I have chosen to raise funds for them exclusively because they plan and execute events effectively, advocate for political change in a positive way, and encourage personal advocacy as the cornerstone of care and survivorship among cancer-challenged individuals and their families.
So in my reading, I found out about the Ride for the Roses (RftR); it was around July and the event was in October, so I had some time and the perfect weather to train. It was the premier event for LAF in 2005 and had various lengths from 5 to 100 miles. I decided early on that if I was going to travel all that way, I was going to do the full century ride (100 miles). I found a great training program in Bicycling magazine that called for a six-day a week, 10-week regimen with varying paces and daily objectives - best of all it was free! It focused on increasing mileage by 10% to 15% each week until the weekend before the event you were on a, "Comfortable," 85 to 95 mile ride. I absolutely loved the program, the way it made me feel to commit to the training schedule - even though I have traditionally not had the ability to do so and stay committed.

So I flew down to Austin on the Friday before the Sunday ride to take in the athletic expo, get registered and do some exploring of the beautiful city of Austin. I love Austin; the people, the energy, everything about it is appealing and I can see why people say not to miss it when in Texas. I went to the expo on Saturday all day and spent money on more spandex, socks, etc. than I should've, but what the heck. I had a great Tex-Mex dinner right next to my motel the night before and got a good night sleep with a 5:00 wake up call set for Sunday.

On Sunday morning I rode 7 mile to the event with some folks I'd met the day before; it was a good warm-up, but it was cold, too. All riders left in groups dictated by their forecasted ride times. Almost immediately after departing a group of riders went down in a heap; it's a whole different dynamic riding in a group and it takes some getting used to, that's why I stayed out of groups and "Paceline," for what was my first big ride. What I did do was to take my time, ride my own pace and focus on the experience, not the pace. Part of that was the talking to both survivors and supporters, differentiated by small signs we all had pinned, as we rode the sometimes very rutty country road around Austin. All I talked to were so passionate about their reasons for riding; all shared the desire to tell their story when I asked, "So tell me about so who you're riding for?"

I remember being stunned at the greenery around the area, welcomed the friendliness of the residents and their support, and specifically remember on house that looked like a Hollywood movie set. On the front porch sat mom with a young child in her lap. Two more were playing in the yard and dad was in his red long johns - no fooling - hose in hand watering the vegetables and smoking his morning stogie with a big smile. I also remember the best PB&J sandwich I've ever had right about mile 75. By the time mile 75 had come around, my shoulders were aching, no screaming out for a break, so at the next rest stop, of which there were plenty, I got a free massage from a very sweet oncology nurse/massage tech who had been there all day and whose hands I'm sure hurt more than my shoulders; but in keeping with the general characteristics the breed, she insisted on giving me some welcome relief.


When I crossed the finish line at 100 miles I was handed a yellow rose to identify me as a survivor. I finally stopped, and broke down sobbing with about a dozen different emotions ranging from exhaustion to a tremendous sense of accomplishment and gratitude. I immediately got on the phone to Anne to let her know I had finished, stayed upright, and would be coming back the following year.










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