Cancer and a bike ride

I just wanted to take a moment to let you know how my ride in the Sunflowers to Roses Bike Tour went this past Sunday.  Wow what a day in terms of weather, and actual number of riders.  Last year – calm winds, sunny skies, and temperatures starting out around 65.  This year I think we were thrust right into monsoon season.  Gusting winds and hard driving rain welcomed us Sunday morning. 

For me, this was my 4^th year riding in the Sunflowers to Roses Bike Tour – four very memorable rides.  Once again I was humbled to be amongst some amazing individuals – some who are cancer survivors riding in celebration of life, and others who road along in silence thinking through what cancer has meant to them and their family.   

In years past I have outlined the impact that this ride has had on me.  This year will be no different. 

This year I fell into both of the categories listed above – celebrating my dad’s successful cancer treatment (it has been just over a year since his treatments ended), but also riding in silence at times thinking about my aunt and the impact her life, and ultimate passing, had on my family.   So with that, following is my story of the 2009 Sunflowers to Roses ride.

As I said, the day did not start the way any of us had planned.  Rain was being dumped on us by the bucket load, and it was blowing sideways just to make it a little more interesting.  At the start, we had limited access to shelter, but in spite of that there were still riders who came out to ride.  There were still riders who came that morning to register – imagine that – coming out in a RAIN STORM and registering to ride in a charity bike ride.  250 or so of the over 500 registered riders made it there.  250 or so officially kicked off the 2009 ride.  250 riders all thinking about what this ride meant to them.  All thinking about what this meant to their family and friends. 

There was only one thing, this year verses any other year, that kept running through my mind – this day reminded me of my dad’s cancer treatment and the milestones that were made throughout his treatment.  By that I mean we started out in a rain strong (i.e., hearing dad had cancer).  The only way I can truly explain this is to say that, for the first part of the ride, the rain was pelting us the whole way.  Not just a friendly drizzle – no a sideways, pounding rain storm.  Black clouds swirling kinda stuff.  For those of you who have lived through a loved one being diagnosed with cancer I am sure you can understand this connection.  To me – this was like hearing about Dad’s cancer and the tears that flowed.  Being pelted by the unrelenting rain – storm clouds constantly brewing.  The rain teasing us, and then pounding us.  Teasing then pounding.  Emotions all over the place.

I am not sure how long this period of the ride lasted, but on my return trip, I started to see a break in the rain.  Sure I was sopping wet.  Sure I was miserable.  But the storm was letting up.  The unrelenting rain had relented.  For me – this was like the end of dad’s treatment.  He was miserable, but still moving toward a goal.  Still moving toward the conclusion of this ride.  We were still miles out, but moving forward at an ever increasing clip, with an end finally in sight.

And at the end of the ride, and I am not making this up, the sun broke out of the clouds for a moment.  When I turned toward the group of cheering supporters the sun hit me and the other riders I was riding with head on.  The celebration began for each of us at this moment.  We finished a miserable ride, but ended with a celebration in the sun.  The feeling here was so much like how I felt after the doctor told my dad, “Everything looks good – I will see you in 3 months.”  The sun that appeared in our life arrived at the right time to wash away a little of that misery.  Our tears could finally dry up.

So with that short story in mind, I wanted to let each of you know who I rode for.  There are so many things to say, but for me the names below say it all.  I rode for the families of those listed below, and more importantly I rode for the following loved ones…

I rode in celebration of: My dad – Robert Johnson, Mary Ann Beck, Weston Funk, Norma Monday, Danny Spain, Anand Gupta, Ramesh Sinha, all of the breast cancer survivors, and all cancer victims and their families.

I rode in memory of: My Aunt Venesa, Grandpa Rich, Sam Weeks, David Taylor, Jean Morsbach, Roy Stice, Claude Sevart, & Robin Redman, Caroline, William, and Raymond Yep, Gilbert Lee, Herman Spain, and as a friend said, “all of my family members who have died from cancer and are too numerous to name.”

Thank you once again for taking the time to read this, and for allowing me to ride for so many of you.  Thank you for allowing me to ride in memory/in celebration of your loved ones.

UGH

It is an UGH Day.  The weather is changing… the rain is getting ready to start. The weather man is promising hail tomorrow morning during rush hour.  I am triple book this evening. 

Lately I never stop to look around – except when there is an accident. 

Worrying is taking hold again.  My dad is heading back next week for another follow up cancer checkup.  Two small specs appeared on his lung and kidney not long ago.  They may have been there before.  If they are growing – the cancer is back (or never really left).  If they are the same – we keep an eye on them.

I have been wondering a lot about faith, love, reaching out, sacrafice, commitment, expectations, silent periods, loud periods, my role.  I am afraid sometimes to ask God for fear of what the answer will be.

I have been thinking about riding my bike and my lack of excerise lately.  The mountain bike is begging to be ridden, and riding on the trails is a nice outlet for me to think, pray, and enjoy the moment.

I am writing another song, and I am getting back into photography as well (in a very small way).  So, I am trying to understand this creative passion that I have right now and push it forward in a way that will help someone. 

What about you…

Team Imagine – further update

So here is part of the team… Baby Mackenzie in the middle beside Dad, Jason to the left in the blue shirt, me to the right and Rob on the end.  Kati (mom) is taking the picture.  Who would have thought that cute little Baby Mackenzie would start getting sick and infecting mom and dad… they missed two days afterward.

Me, well, I guess I am glad that I didn’t hold her.

Total raised to-date in online and off-line donations – $2300… next year the goal is $3000.

Team Imagine – my charity bike ride

I just wanted to take a moment to let you know how my ride in the Sunflowers to Roses bike ride on Sunday, August 17^th went.  Wow what a day in terms of weather, number of riders, and yes once again number of hills.  The winds were calm.  The sky was sunny, and the temperature started out right around 65.  We had almost 400 riders – 400 men, women, and children.  400  riders all thinking about what this ride meant to them.  All thinking about what this meant to their family and friends. 

Last year, I started out by saying three words, wonderful, memorable, and hilly.  Then upon further reflection more words kept creeping into my mind, rewarding… humbling… and emotional…. This year, was no different – except the word emotional took on a new and bigger meaning.  In fact, for me, this whole year has taken on new meaning. 

With that said, I wanted to pass along a piece about the ride that has stuck with me.  

One of the riders on our team pulled his daughter behind him for the entire ride.  Up hills, down hills, and on long/short straight always.  He started out as strong as the rest of us, but as the ride continued he started to feel the impact of pulling his daughter along… but he never stopped.  He continued on. Since we were a team, we all hung back to offer our encouragement.  On occasion, one or two of us would blow out the legs a little (in other words – we got to go fast for a minute), but we would always come back to the group.  Near the end, he was really struggling.  The hills were catching up to him, yet he still did not stop.  In fact, even when we offered to take over and ride his bike for awhile, he would not stop.  He had set a goal to make it to the end.  He continued on.  So we rode on, kidding him and encouraging him, all the while watching for the finish line.  And when that line appeared, we crossed it together.

Why am I telling you this story?  Well, it reminds me of my dad and his cancer battle.  He was as strong as any of us in the beginning – actually stronger.  He kept up with us, but the hills of his battle took their toll on him.  He slowed down, but he never gave up.  All of us took our time to be with him. Offering encouragement, kidding him, just riding along with him to let him know he was not alone.  Along the way, we wish we could have taken over for a little while, but this was one ride he had to do by himself, but with a chorus of supporters surrounding him.  His goal was set.  He continued on.  When it was all said and done, we were able to cross the finish line together, we were finally able to stop and say how proud we are of him.  We can now say he is a cancer survivor.

So with that short story in mind, I wanted to let each of you know who Team Imagine rode for.  There are so many personal reasons why each of us did this, and there are so many things to say, but for us the names below say it all.  We rode for the families of those listed below, and more importantly we rode for the following loved ones…

We rode in honor of: Robert Johnson (my dad), Betty Lepper, Lucy Butler, Wain Sloan & Christina Campbell, Norma Monday, Manisha Kulshresta, Bryan Lee, Jan Condreay & Dottie Arms, Sonja Yngve, Louis F. Rhodes, Jr., Dick and Judy Russell, and all cancer victims and their families.

We rode in memory of:  Aunt Venesa (my aunt), Gene Hilt, James Stillman, Grandpa Rich, Herman Spain, Dorothy and Elsie Woodruff, Russ’ Dad, Paul’s Mom, Vina Lue Larson, Hema’s aunt who fought the 18 year battle against breast cancer, Meeta & Milan’s dear friend – Sameer & cousin – Uma Jiji, Ruth Morsbach, James A. Lewis, Louis Rhodes, Sr., Carol Kramer, Jean McClatchey, Wilma Young, and as a friend of mine said, “all my family members who have died from cancer and are too numerous to name.”

During this ride, I thought about each of you.  I thought about your loved ones.  I thought of our hope, our pain, our glee, and sometimes our grief.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and for allowing me to ride for so many of you.  Thank you for allowing me to ride in memory/honor of your loved ones.

Take care my friends.

Michael

Training… training… training…

 

This was kinda a test weekend for the upcoming charity bike ride I am doing for cancer.  Those who know me, know that I dislocated my knee last year, and have been somewhat slow to recover.  Even with that, I still have been hitting the road lately – about 60 minutes or so is normal.  

Well the upcoming ride is going to be 66 miles, and it is only about 3 weeks away.  Because of my role on the Sunflowers to Roses board, I might only doing half the ride – 33 miles, but that is still to be determined. I mean, I am dedicating this ride to my dad who just finished his cancer treatment a couple of months ago. With that in mind I thought that if I plan on riding even 33 miles I had better test out the knee… push it just a little bit.  So last week, I road pretty hard for four out of five days.  I hit the hills, I hit the straight always, I joined the cars, and I enjoyed the heat, I road on average about 17 mph.  Not bad for a guy with a bad leg.  After last week’s rides, the knee wasn’t to bad, but the lung and heart capacity are WAY down.  I need to build those up.

On top of that, 3 weeks until the Sunflowers to Roses charity ride…yikes… so yesterday I hit the road ago, and decided that I need to ride at least 33 miles. 33 miles of hills, roads, trails, dodging dogs and cars and potholes.  Riding is my outlet… my stress relief.  It gives me time to think about nothing other than the scenery, churning those pedals, and the road ahead (oh, and the occasional  dog or yelling driver of a car).  Then if I can ride for a couple of hours I am in heaven.  This particular day gave me some nice away time.  With that in mind, here is the break down of that ride:

Stats:

• Time: noon start
• Temp: 94 when I started
• Wind: mild
• Cloud cover – none

Miles 1 – 10 no problem.  I road at about 18 mph, but had to watch my heart rate that was hanging out in the 160s.

Miles 11-15.  Not much of a problem  - about 17 mph, and I still watched the heart rate.  The heart rate jumped up a bit due to some hills – mid 170s – ugh.  I need it in the 160s or less.

Miles 16 -23 I kinda hit a wall for this stretch.  There were a lot more hills, and a totally new area, as well as some trails that I took.  Average mph was down to 13 and the heart hit a max of 193.  The heart still hung out around 180 for this entire period.  Not fun – and lactic acid is not something you want to build up in your legs or you will hit a wall for sure.

Miles 24 – 33 I was back to semi-normal.  I averaged about 17-18 mph and I felt good again.  The heart rate dropped, but only to about 174… still to high.

I came home, ate some food to refuel, cooled down under a ceiling fan and in the air conditioning, and let the legs relax for a few minutes. 

What’s next?

Recover ride today if the weather holds.  Longer rides this coming weekend. 

Riding dedication for the week – 

• For the body – better food intake, better liquid intake, and very little caffeine.  
• For the ride – During the week – 2 or 3 20 mile rides, Saturday 40-50 miles, and Sunday 40 miles.

PS: Kinda reminds me of another type of training… starts easy… gets harder, and then you catch your stride.  Training takes time and energy.  It takes a commitment, not just a hour or two… hmmm… thoughts?

bike ride

Just touching base regarding my mountain biking… I thought that I would throw out the fact that I went on a bike ride this past weekend.  The trails were closed, but there were some old railroad track roads out there to ride on so I finally got the bike dirty… white bike turns brown… Yeah!  I also got to see how badly I needed to ride.  The ride was great for reducing the stress in my already overloaded stressed out life – my way of closing out the problems I have (or at least forgetting about them) is to ride until I am dead.  But, after an hour of riding, I was beat and slowing down the guys that I was riding with.  The legs were gone, the lungs were begging for air, the heart was pushing out of my chest, life was far from being a joy at that particular moment in time.  So much for the stress reducer… now I was stressing about how slow I was, how out of shape I was, and how I was slowing down the other guys.  Basically by the end of the ride, they left me alone to grind up the last big hill back to the car.  Last year, generally it was me leading the pack or at least staying right there.  Revenge on their part?  Not sure.  (Smiles I am sure…) Humbled rider on my part? yes… The best part though was being able to eat some fantastic food Sunday evening…Cinco de Mayo one day early.  Calories going out means calories can go in.  This summer… more riding and a better fitness level are in order.