Sunday, April 14

The big day! I can't believe this event is finally happening. A year ago I came here to watch Thea ride in my honor and I got so excited by the sport of cycling. Now here I am, with my own cool road bike and my favorite people, ready to ride for myself.

After much anxiety on my part over when to leave to avoid traffic, we left at the perfect time (6:30 a.m.) and got there easily. We had plenty of time to eat, get our gear together, and pin our numbers on. Betty was our super duper support crew. I made a little initial fuss over wearing the survivor sign and caused a minor ruckus amongst Team Jess, who swiftly insisted there was no way I could avoid wearing the yellow badge of honor. I don't know, suddenly I felt embarrassed by it all, the same way I did last year wearing it for the 5K walk/run.

Clothing became my next major issue, having worried about the raging heat for the last three days, suddenly I was shivering in the early morning air. With the advice of Team Jess, I went with an easy-to-store-later long sleeve shirt over my new tank jersey. It turned out to be a wise choice, after about 30-45 minutes, I warmed up enough to take it off and Jeff was able to fit it in his jersey pocket.

Before I knew it, it was time to head to the staging area, and Betty saw us off with lots of hugs & kisses. We all agreed to get in the 70 mile staging area as it had the shortest line, and therefore, we'd get on the road sooner. Standing there with our bikes, we were all amazed by the sight of literally thousands upon thousands of cyclists with their bikes. It was quite mind boggling and felt awesome to be a part of it.

There was this one woman nearby, clearly to me she had just finished, or was even still in chemotherapy, riding with only a handkerchief protecting her bare head from the hard plastic of her helmet. I watched her, quietly but deeply impressed by her strength. I didn't have nearly the physical stamina to walk to the neighborhood park during chemo, much less be brave enough to venture out with only a handkerchief on my head.

Finally it was our turn to start, I was nervous heading out with so many bikes only inches away from me on all sides, but I decided just to focus on staying upright and not wonder where Jeff & Thea were the whole time. I figured to myself that they are much more experienced riders, and they would find me eventually.

So then we just started riding. The first portion of road had a fair amount of traffic, but after the first rest stop, it mellowed out, warmed up and became downright enjoyable and beautiful. The rest stop was a scene I have never seen before, thousands of people slurping orange slices and shoveling cookies in their mouths! They were damn good oranges though, worth getting sticky over.

After it warmed up and I took off my long sleeved shirt, my survivor sign was visible and lots of people would say as they passed me on the road, "Congratulations!" or "It's great to see you out here today" or even "You look great!" Each time, it reminded me of how just how far I have come. Many times, I would look over at Jeff next to me on his bike, and I saw his eyes filled with tears.

Thea told me later that several times she would just drop back behind us and cry, she didn't want to overwhelm me with her tears. I realize each time she tells me something like that, just how scary it was for her and the other people who saw me go through it all. I think it's a huge weight on caregivers that doesn't get acknowledged often enough, they are in pain too and don't have the same outlet as the patient, because they don't want to burden the patient. It's a very difficult place to be.

I was trying not to feel so emotional, but it was difficult to avoid. I don't know why, but being there, really owning what I have been through, it makes me feel in awe but it also makes me scared in a retroactive way. I've mentioned to many people, that when it all happened, I had to go into real survival mode and just get through it. There wasn't time or space to process fully what was happening and since remission, many times it hits me hard, "I had cancer!" That dreaded and feared word: cancer. Being on my bike, wearing my yellow sign and all those people giving me credit for surviving, it's hard to describe the mix of emotions. But it felt awesome to be there and I even let myself feel a little pride as well.

The ride was pretty easy considering how much I have stressed over it for the past six months. Physically I did enough training to handle it after all. That made me happy. There was one hill that I just didn't make it up, it was short and very steep. I got about 2/3 of the way up and my legs started burning and out of fear of bonking, I pulled off to the side to rest. But then it was too steep for me to get going again and I fell right over and crashed. It was my biggest fear coming true -- me stuck on a steep hill, clipped in halfway, I start falling and can't get out of my pedals! AACK. Thea and Jeff, with their super-weird-athlete mentality, were proud that I drew blood for the first time. Ha Ha. They're maniacs.

(Okay, I have to clarify. My *real* biggest fear is relapse obviously -- this is my biggest biking fear. Okay, second biggest, me or Jeff or Thea or anyone I love getting hit while riding would be the worst. Okay, then my hands cramping on a downhill and not being able to brake and flying off Las Flores into the canyons would be worse than this one. Okay, I have a lot of fears, I admit it).

Anyway, I started to get really mad at myself for not making it all the way up the hill (I ended up having to walk it, although I was certainly not alone, and Jeff walked with me to keep me company). I am just naturally hard on myself. But then I looked at the people walking and riding by, and remembered that I was there for a higher purpose and to just let it go. I look back now and still think I should have just pushed it out of my legs and made it up, but, what can I do about it now? I made my choice, that's what happened and so be it. Next year, I will make it all the way though!

My irrational, competitive side only reared its ugly head once, when Thea was asking Jeff about his heart rate monitor and Jeff was telling her she'd be surprised by how aerobic her workout was compared to how she imagined it was. In other words, you can be feeling pretty comfortable and definitely be in your aerobic zone. Then she asked him what his heart rate was right then, and of course he wasn't in his aerobic zone because we were all riding at my pace. But hearing out loud just how low his heart rate was while I was riding in my middle-high range brought out the edge in me and I took off. I pushed hard for awhile to get some distance and they let me. It just happens sometimes. I know I can't ride as hard or strong as Jeff because it's physically impossible. I know he's been riding for so many years, and I just started. I know I was sick and he wasn't. But that's why it's irrational, because I forget all that and get mad that I'm not at the same level of fitness. Hey, I'm working on it! (that and all my previously mentioned fears). ;)

So before I knew it, the other rest stop was upon us and it was totally Austin Powers themed out. It was pretty funny. Then we headed off for the finish line. According to my bike computer, we had 5 miles to go when the traffic cop shouted out, "Keep going! Only 8 miles to go!" Somehow, that did mental damage and the last 8 miles felt like 18. By now it was hot, and I had a heat headache going strong, I was ready to be off the bike, and so happy we decided to do 40 miles instead of 70. (But I still say, I could have done 70 -- no, it would not have been as fun and I would have been in pain, but I could have done it. Gee do I have issues or what? 40 miles is enough!). Anyway, it turned out the 40 mile route was actually 43 and we made it! Betty was waiting for us at the finish, and this poor girl from the RFTR crew chased me down to give me a long stemmed red rose for being a survivor. It was awesome.

We found a spot to sit down, eat and then I found the massage area which saved me from getting a full migraine. While I was waiting for my massage, I heard a woman talking on her cell phone and she said to whoever was on the other side, "Do you know how I made it up that hill? I thought to myself, if you can make it through cancer, I can make it up this hill." That made me want to cry, I was really tired and emotional at that point.

Eventually we headed back to the car, loaded up and went back to the hotel. After naps and a most refreshing shower, Team Jess met up for a lovely dinner around the corner from the hotel. Everything tasted scrumptious and we did the whole thing from appetizers to dessert & coffee and followed it all up with a delightful evening stroll up to the Capitol building. We sat on the steps, enjoyed the balmy Texas air and just felt so peaceful. It was the perfect way to end the day.