Tag Archives: LiveStrong

This is the final post about my LiveStrong ride.  If you’re just popping over today, here’s part 1 and here’s part 2.

Sunday Morning…

The morning of the LiveStrong ride I hopped in the shower and for the first time in a week I could breathe out of both nostrils.  Yahoo!  Finally this horrid cold was letting up.  As far as I was concerned, this day was off to a great start and I wasn’t even out of the shower yet!  Plus it was Terry’s birthday and riding for LiveStrong seemed like an amazing way to start off a year.

Terry and I slipped into our gear, ate breakfast and rode to the starting line where we met up with the rest of Team Fatty for a photo.  I double checked my gear and my bike computer to make sure everything was just as it should be.  We waited in the good company of 1,500 other cyclists for the ride to begin.  Butterflies skittered around in my stomach.  Would I make it to the cut off point in time to stay on the 105 mile course?  Would I be able to do the extra climbing that was added earlier in the week?  I was nervous, but determined to finish the 105 mile route.

As a cyclist, I’m not very fast or very strong, but what I lack in physical prowess I make up for in mental fortitude.  I’m the girl who finished a metric century with pneumonia and a broken toe just to prove to myself that I could do it.  Shoot, I’m the girl who rode my bike days after heart surgery because I couldn’t wait to live my life as someone with a strong heart.  So, as I stood with my team at the starting line, I knew my determined mind and my strong heart would carry me through.

Photo courtesy of livestrong.org

Lance Armstrong spoke that morning about what a great day it will be when LiveStrong doesn’t exist anymore because cancer has been cured.  What a great day, indeed.  Then a local woman sang the national anthem and a hush fell over the crowd.  I stood with my hand over my heart watching the flag above the start line ruffle ever so slightly in the breeze.  When the singer hit the line “the land of the free and the home of the brave” my eyes welled up and a lump caught in my throat.  There I stood in a sea of people wearing the names of loved ones they were riding for.  Other cyclists wore signs proclaiming they’d survived cancer.  I knew in every fiber of my being that these were the kind of people our national anthem is about.  I was standing in group of people whose bravery was not only pinned on their jerseys, but was evident in each of their faces.

Before I knew it, the starting horn was fired and we were off.  About a mile in, I looked down and noticed my bike computer wasn’t working.  Shoot, I needed my bike computer to tell me if I was going fast enough to make the cut off at mile 27.  I also needed my computer to make sure I was drinking and eating enough.  1 water bottle every hour along with a Clif bar mini and a Shot Blok or two every 15 miles was the magic equation for me.  Not to worry, I would just rely on Terry’s bike computer.  A few minutes later it quit working.  Damn.

We soon linked up with Mike, a fellow Fat Cyclist from North Carolina.  His computer was working fine and dandy and the three of us formed a nice little paceline.  Knowing we had plenty of food and water, we skipped the first rest stop.  13 miles in Terry’s seat decided to drop of its own volition and so we stopped for a couple of minutes while he fixed it.  While we were stopped I fixed my bike computer and ate a snack.  Cool, now all I had to do to figure out where I was on the course was add 13 miles to my odometer.  With plenty of food and water we zipped past rest stop #2 and hurried on to the cutoff point.  We made it to the cutoff and Mike turned left to the 70 mile course and Terry and I turned right on the 105 mile option.  Things were looking good.  We were riding pretty quickly, I was feeling great and my legs felt strong.

We soon got to the climbing portion of the ride.  Terry is a much faster climber than I am and so I told him to go ahead and that I’d see him at the next rest stop.  He nodded and in no time was out of sight.  I hunkered down in my lowest gear and pedaled past beautiful Lake Berryessa.  It was a warm day, but being from Redding, the heat wasn’t a concern at all.  I continued to drink water as needed and climbed some more.  What I didn’t know then was that in an effort to shake this pesky cold, my body was burning through much more liquid than usual.

As I was climbing, I noticed my arms and legs prickling with goosebumps.  I’d heard of that happening to athletes who were dehydrated.  I drank some more water knowing the rest stop was at the top of the climb.  I climbed some more and rapidly moved from having goosebumps to being downright cold.  I drank the last bit of my water and pedaled my bike toward a shady spot where I stopped.  As I got off my bike the unthinkable happened.  Suddenly I had the sensation that I was wetting my pants.  I couldn’t make it stop.  I’d lost control of my bladder and I knew in that moment that my overheated body had taken control and was throwing a Hail Mary to cool itself down.  Very little urine came out, not even enough to make a dark spot on my Spandex.  On one hand, that was a good thing because I did not want to stand on the side of the road with pee running down my leg.  On the other hand, I knew it was a bad sign that my body wasn’t producing very much fluid.  Cyclist after cyclist asked if I was okay.  I told them I was fine.  And I truly thought I was.  I knew I just needed some water.  I pulled out my cell to call Terry, but there was no service.

I hailed a course marshal on a motorcycle and asked him to bring me some water.  A few minutes later he returned with a bottle of icy cold water.  I downed it and asked him to call a SAG wagon to take me to the next rest stop at the top of the hill.  He radioed the SAG and I decided to walk my bike a little further while I waited for them to come and get me.  Often times moving forward, even if it’s just walking, makes me feel better.  At this point I heard someone behind me yell “Hey, Fatty, wait up!  I’ll walk with you.”  I looked back and saw Christine, a Fatty from New Jersey.  I was so happy to have company.  We walked until the SAG wagon scooped us both up to the next rest stop where Terry was waiting.  I was glad we’d chosen to take a ride in the SAG wagon because the rest stop was down the hill and up another climb, much farther than I remembered it being on the course map.  At the rest stop I downed a few bottles of water and ate some food.  I told Terry that the climb was too much for me and that I’d run out of water.  I also told him that I felt much better now and should be fine for the rest of the ride.  I really did feel better.  I really did think I’d be fine.

Sunday Afternoon…

Remember earlier this week when I told you the course had been changed from a big loop to include an out and back?   Well, that out and back meant that after the rest stop, I had to tackle the hills again.  When we were ready, Christine, Terry and I left the rest stop and began the climb.  Terry stayed with me until I couldn’t climb anymore and told him I had to get off and walk.  Christine had to walk, too, and so I waved Terry ahead assuring him I was fine and that I’d see him at the next rest stop.  Christine and I walked our bikes to the top of the hill.  We were chatting and cheering on other cyclists who passed us by.  At the crest of the hill, we hopped back on our bikes and enjoyed a nice descent and some flats.

Usually I can really motor across the flats, but that day I was a slower than usual.  I tried to be patient with my body.  After all, it was having a little bit of a tough morning.  I pedaled along, making sure to drink lots of water as I went.  Christine clipped along ahead of me and I caught back up with her at a water stop where I drank some more and refilled my bottles.  We rode together for a little bit, but my body still couldn’t go as fast as usual.  I pedaled along by myself over some rolling hills and then the course turned into a headwind.  It wasn’t an unbearable headwind.  I’ve ridden much faster in much stronger winds.  As I rode, I watched my speed plummet.  It felt like I was pedaling in quicksand.  I kept pedaling and drinking water and eating, determined to snap out of this major bonk.

The goosebumps returned, making my arm hairs stand on end.  The muscles in my calves twisted and cramped.  To my shame I again had the sensation of wetting my pants.  This time not a single drop came out.  I pulled out my cell.  Damn, still no reception.  I knew the next rest stop had to be close.  I watched for course marshals or bike medics or SAG wagons, but I was all alone on this stretch.  I tucked my head into the wind and pedaled.

Then my phone rang.  I clicked my earbud and heard Terry on the other end, but the wind was so loud I couldn’t tell what he was saying.  I told him I couldn’t hear him.  He yelled “Where are you?”  I looked down at my computer.  It read 56 miles.  All I had to do was add 13 miles for the stretch at the beginning of the ride when my computer wasn’t working and another 5 for the part where the SAG wagon had driven me up the hill.  Now, I’m not normally good at math to begin with, but even I can add three numbers together.  I tried to add them and I couldn’t.  Come on brain, just add the numbers.  I tried again.  Nothing.  I told Terry I didn’t know what mile I was at.  Terry said something, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.  I told him I thought I was close to the rest stop and I hung up.

It was one thing for my legs to cramp, for my body to throw in the towel, but now my mind was giving out.  It was scary and for the first time that day I admitted to myself that I was in real trouble.  I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I forced myself not to cry because I knew I needed to stay calm.

Even worse than admitting I was in trouble was admitting that there was no way I could finish the 105 miles.  I was absolutely heartbroken at the thought.  To know that I was not going to make the goal I’d been working toward for months was a crushing blow.  I can’t even describe to you the depths of the disappointment I felt with myself.

And then I saw the most glorious yellow sign!  The next rest stop was only a mile away!!!  I could ride a mile in my sleep!  I summoned all my remaining mental fortitude and pedaled a little faster.  I saw another cyclist.  Then I saw several cyclists leaving the rest stop.  I pulled in and relief washed over me.  Terry was there along with my friends, Nick & Abby, who were driving the SAG wagon for that stop.  Never in my life have I been so happy to see friendly faces.  I unclipped from my pedals, laid my bike on the ground and hugged Terry tight.

I wish I could tell you that this is one of those stories where I tap into unknown reserves of strength and finish out the last 30 miles.  I’ll tell you right now, it isn’t that kind of story.  I gave this ride every last bit of strength I had.

And it just wasn’t enough.

I sobbed on Terry’s shoulder and told him I wasn’t going to make it to the end.  Saying it out loud brought a fresh round of tears.  I told him I just didn’t have it that day.  I was too embarrassed to tell him about wetting my pants or any of the other humiliating details.  Terry told me it was ok and that I’d done an amazing job considering I’d been sick all week.  Terry could have easily finished the ride, but I needed him to stop with me and so we climbed in the SAG wagon with our friends and drove toward the finish line.  I was quiet in the van, disappointment heavy on my shoulders.

LiveStrong gives the SAG drivers strict instructions not to drive people all the way to the finish line unless they’re in need of medical attention.  I probably did need medical attention, but I was too ashamed to admit it.  A few blocks away from the finish line, Terry and I got back on our bikes.  To be honest, I didn’t feel like I even deserved to cross the finish line, but I stayed close on Terry’s wheel.

As we approached the finish line, I heard people cheering and I plastered on a fake smile.  Terry and I rode side by side and the announcers said “Here come two members of Team Fatty.  They started the ride together and now they’re finishing it together.  There’s Terry McCauley and Alicia McCauley.  Alicia raised over $1,000 for LiveStrong.”  At that, another cheer went up among the crowd.

For that one moment the disappointment and humiliation of the day left me.  I knew I’d been part of doing something great in the fight against cancer.  In that moment, I was crossing the finish line for my grandmother.  I was crossing the finish line for my friends who are navigating their own path through cancer right now.  And I was crossing that finish line for all the people who believed in me enough to donate to LiveStrong on my behalf.

After finishing, Terry and I got some food and drink.  We joined our fellow Team Fatty members for pie and each of them told fantastic stories of their rides.  North Carolina Mike told us funny stories from his 70 mile route.  The fast 105 milers told about their speedy double paceline and the Fatty who almost caught up with Lance Armstrong.  New Jersey Christine rolled in as the Lanterne Rouge of our team and I congratulated her on a job well done.  Hearing their stories was bittersweet for me.  I was thrilled to hear about their successes, but was sad I couldn’t say the same thing about my ride.  When people remarked about my finish time I’d quip “Yeah, riding in the SAG wagon for the last 30 miles really makes it go by fast.  You should try it sometime.”  I’d laugh and quickly ask more about their ride.  After eating pie and thanking the Fat Cyclist, it was time to go home.

Sunday Night…

Later that night, I confessed just how bad off I was on the ride.  I told all the embarrassing details and like the good man that he is, Terry reassured me again that I’d done a great job.  A little part of me even started to believe it.

As I was throwing my profusely stinky cycling kit into the washing machine, I unpinned my race number from my jersey.  I smoothed out the wrinkles and hung it on the fridge.  When I look at my number, I think of the LiveStrong motto:

Unity is strength, knowledge is power and attitude is everything.

It’s that last part that strikes me most.  I’m still the girl who finished a metric century with pneumonia and a broken toe just to prove I could do it.  I’m still the girl who rode my bike days after heart surgery because I couldn’t wait to live my life as someone with a strong heart.  And now I’m the girl who gave up every last bit of my physical and mental strength for 75 miles all in the name of fighting cancer.

That’s something I can be proud of.

Posted by stuckinmypedals in Bike Adventures Tags: cycling, LiveStrong, Team Fatty

Saturday Morning…

Remember when I woke Terry up in the middle of the night with my crazy, fevered dreams?  Well, Saturday morning he took his revenge and didn’t turn his alarm clock off.  In an attempt to keep away from this nasty cold I’ve got, he was sound asleep on the couch when his alarm sounded a little before 6am.

I woke up with a head full of disgusting sludge and I drug my sorry self to the shower.  Surely this has got to be the last day of this miserable cold I thought as I hacked up all manner of things.  Let me mention real quick that Aleve Cold & Sinus is my new best friend and the Kleenex with the lotion is a close second.

I finished packing and double checked everything, oh, 861 times.  It would be just like me to forget something.  Like pants.  Or my bike.  Once everything was in the car, I relaxed a little bit.  When Terry nonchalantly said “I almost forgot to put our front wheels in the car.” I didn’t even stab him.  After all, it was the day before his birthday.

Saturday Evening…

After an uneventful drive to Davis with our pals, Nick & Abby, Terry and I headed to the fundraising awards dinner.  Team Fatty captain, Elden Nelson, would be given the Individual Champion Award for raising the most money of any single person.  He also won the Individual Messenger Award for having the most donors.  Team Fatty won the Team Champion Award for being the team that raised the most money.  We also won the Team Time Trial Award, measured like real bike time trials by the funds raised by our fifth highest grossing team member.  Did I mention that there are only 4 awards given out?  Team Fatty swept them all.

So there we were mingling in the crowd before dinner was served, meeting most Team Fatty teammates for the first time.  Needless to say, every single teammate I met was funny, gracious and had a great story to share about why they joined Team Fatty.  Usually I feel really awkward and sweaty in social settings where I don’t know anyone, but this was different.  Fatty does a great job of creating a community over on his site and so as I mingled, I was putting faces to names I’d known for several years.  It was more like meeting up with friends I hadn’t seen for a long time and less like sweating in a crowd of strangers.

Terry, me, & Elden "Fatty" Nelson

Just before dinner was served, Terry and I put our place cards at one of the Team Fatty tables.  We sat down to eat and to my delight we were at the same table as Fatty himself and his lovely wife, Lisa.  At our table were Team Fatty members from Utah, California, New York and New Jersey.  We were having a great time chatting and laughing when Lance Armstrong came over to talk to Fatty.  Their brief conversation went like this:

Lance: “So, you decided just to win everything, huh? Not let anyone else have any awards?”

Fatty: “Hey, I learned from the best.”

Lance: “Yeah, forget* ‘em all.”

Fatty: “Damn straight.”

The rest of us at the table sat there for a few seconds with our mouths agape wondering how we were so lucky as to witness the most awesome exchange ever.  Then Lance walked away, but not before Terry could touch his arm.  That’s right Terry’s hand touched Lance Armstrong.  And Terry’s hand touched me.  The hand that touched Lance touched me.  Swoon.

There were many jokes around the table about how I’d be calling Terry “Lance” later that night.  Some jokes are funny because they’re true.  Just sayin’.

When it came time for the awards Lance bestowed all four on Fatty and he gave a moving speech composed of reasons why each of us on Team Fatty have taken up the fight against cancer.  Fatty was eloquent, humble and had many of us in tears.  I held it together until he read my reason:

“I ride in memory of my grandmother who lived with courage, humor and zeal for life.  Even cancer couldn’t take that away.  Riding my bike allows me to fight cancer with courage, humor and zeal-just like my grandmother did.”**

There it was, the reason I’m part of Team Fatty.  The reason I pleaded, pestered and begged all my friends and family to donate.  The reason I swung my leg over my bike and trained the last few months.

Later that night as I tossed and turned in bed, trying in vain to find a position that wouldn’t make my head stuff up, I thought back to the awards dinner.  Doug Ullman, President of LiveStrong, talked about how the fight against cancer belongs to all of us as citizens of the world.

We all have stories of how cancer has impacted our lives.  Some are beautiful stories of survival against incredible odds.  Others are courageous stories of loved ones who fought hard for life right up until their last breath.  And then there are the stories that don’t have an ending yet, stories of loved ones who are battling cancer right this very second.

Sleep came in short spurts that night and each time I woke up, I thought of what a privilege it is to be healthy enough to fight cancer by doing something I love.  I laid in bed and stared at The Rocket just feet away and imagined what our ride the next day would hold.  Little did I know, the ride wouldn’t go at all like I imagined.

Click here to read Part 3.

*Lance didn’t say ‘forget’.  Ahem.

**Read the rest of Fatty’s speech here.  You’ll be glad you did.

Oh and while you’re at it, please take 2 minutes to watch this LiveStrong video and then follow the link to sign the open letter saying that you think cancer should be a priority when world leaders gather for the Global Health Summit this September.

Posted by stuckinmypedals in Bike Adventures Tags: cycling, LiveStrong, Team Fatty

Monday Morning…

I woke up with a raging fever and spent the day on the couch.  Several times that day I thought Good thing I’m sick today.  It’ll surely pass by Sunday.  I’d hate to be sick on the day of the big ride.  That night I had feverish nightmares about being late for the ride start.  My dreams were so real that at 3:30am, I shook Terry awake insisting that he get up because we were LATE AND HAD TO GET TO THE STARTING LINE RIGHT NOW!!!  Ever so patiently, he ushered my head back to my pillow and told me it wasn’t Sunday.  My fever broke sometime that night after I’d woken Terry up several more times with things of utmost importance, I’m sure.  Poor guy.

Thursday Night…

While waiting for the laundry to dry and cursing my stuffy head, I found myself poking around the Internets, catching up on the latest over on Fat Cyclist.  I scrolled down to the comments, wherein one of my teammates posted a notification about a course change for Sunday.

Ooh, a course change.  I prayed fervently that a meteor had struck the course and it had to be shortened to, say, an easy 25 miles.

All downhill.

With a tailwind.

No such luck.  No meteor at all.  In fact the course had been changed to include an out and back.  Out and backs are my least favorite type of riding because I’ve already seen everything once.  And there always seems to be a headwind one way, sometimes both.  But hey, maybe this out and back would be on a nice smooth, wind-protected flat.

Or maybe it would be on the really hard climbing part so that once I made it to the top of the climb and wanted to die, I would have to hold all thoughts of death until I went downhill, turned back around and climbed back up.  I bet you can guess what kind of out and back it is.  I love it when they tack on more climbing just for funsies.

Thursday night I went to sleep with a knot in my stomach.  I sleep-pedaled my sheets into a tangled mess, dreaming of all that climbing.

Friday Morning…

I untangled myself from my sheets and slipped into the shower, letting the steam clear the gunk that had settled into my nose and lungs.  Surely this cold will be gone by Sunday.  I hopped onto The Rocket for an early morning ride on the river trail with a friend.  My goal was to listen to The Rocket, to feel for any bumps in her gears and to make sure she was all set for Sunday.  Riding cleared my head and made me feel sorta human for the first time in days.  The river was lovely, as usual, but riding back uphill to my house, The Rocket and I felt our nerves rise up again.  More climbing.  More climbing.  More climbing.  This was the marching drill all the way home.  With each pedalstroke I pictured the revised elevation profile.  Up, down, up, down, up, down.  20 miles of up, down, up, down, up, down.

As I was rounding the corner into my neighborhood, I spotted a friend out for a walk.  I hadn’t seen her in a while and I offered to put on my walking shoes and meet up with her on my street.  We had a great time catching up.  Toward the end of the walk we stopped at the corner where our two neighborhoods meet, I asked if she had any summer trips planned.

She has just one.  A trip to her mom’s house because her mom was just diagnosed with breast cancer and my friend wants to be there for her mom’s lumpectomy.  Her mom is a young, vibrant woman.  In fact, she’s always one of the first people to donate to LiveStrong on my behalf.  My friend and I stood there talking on the corner, she fighting the lump in her throat, me giving her a hug and paltry words of sympathy that never seem strong enough in these circumstances.  My friend has lots of questions and at least I could direct her to LiveStrong to find some answers.

We parted ways and as I walked home, I didn’t think about my stuffy head.  Or the hilly out and back added onto the course.  I thought about my friend’s mother.  And my grandmother.  And all the others who I’m riding for on Sunday.  A pesky cold and a little more climbing don’t feel so daunting anymore.

It’s funny what a little perspective can do.

Click here to read Part 2.

Posted by stuckinmypedals in Bike Adventures Tags: cycling, LiveStrong, Team Fatty

photo courtesy of redding.com

286.11 Miles April was a great month for cycling.  The rain let up a little bit, leaving most trails open for business.  I said most.  The mighty Sacramento opened her mouth and swallowed parts of the river trail.  A few days later the water receded, lapping at the edges of the trail and leaving smaller portions under water.  On one such day, I rode it with some of my gal pals and we encountered a flooded part of the trail.  It was tough to tell how deep the water was, but in order to get home we had to ride through the water.  I watched my friends ride through, rooster tails of water shooting up behind them, their shoes dunking in the water.  I took a deep breath and braced myself for soggy socks.  I loathe riding in wet socks.  Halfway through the water, I laughed because I’m so abnormally tall, the water didn’t even begin to reach my pedals.  I rode home with a new appreciation for the term ‘high and dry’.

2 Really Attractive Moments I’ve mentioned before that cycling is a sexy sport.  I mean the spandex alone make all cyclists a 10 on the attractive scale, right?  Just nod your head and let me have my happy delusion.  Well, let me tell you, Spandex is just the tip of the iceberg friends.  For example, when you get home from your second bike ride of the day and just want to sit down for a second, the sight and smell of you in all your cycling glory will prompt your beloved to spout sweet nothings like, “You smell ripe.”  Oh baby, save that talk for the bedroom!  Or picture this.  You’re out on a spring ride with your man.  The day is gorgeous and all the wildflowers are in bloom.  Your allergies make their presence known and there is nary a tissue in sight.  So you pull to the side of the road and give the old farmer blow.  Your man will roll up behind you and, overwhelmed by such an attractive act, he’ll utter, “Sexy.” You’ll gaze lovingly into your man’s eyes and in your most sultry voice say, “Tell me something I don’t know.”  They you’ll use your gloved hand to wipe the snot off your face.

1 Irritating Squeak  For the past nine months, The Rocket has had an irritating squeak.  Time after time I’ve taken her to the bike shop to vanquish the squeak.  All of these trips had been fruitless, because as every cyclist knows the squeak that you hear on rides mysteriously disappears when you go to the bike shop.  Finally the squeak had reached intolerable proportions, squeaking with EVERY SINGLE pedal stroke.  Let me tell you, that way madness lies.  Then finally, finally the mystery of the squeak was solved.  All these months I’ve been riding around with the wrong cleats.  My pedals require LOOK Delta cleats.  I was riding around on LOOK Keo cleats, which look remarkably similar.  Here see for yourself.

Delta

Keo

Both are black.  Both are triangular-shaped.  Both are LOOK pedals.  You can see how I’d mistake one for the other.  You can see how this simple mix up befuddled the boys at my favorite bike shop.  The Delta locks into my pedal nice and tight, making happy, smooth, quiet pedal strokes.  The Keo locks in loosely and causes horrid, mind numbing squeaking that makes me want to throw my bike over the side of the Dam.  Let me tell you, it was a blessed, blessed day when the bike shop boys realized I was riding around on the wrong cleats.  After a good laugh, they set me up with a new set of cleats.  Since the cause of the squeak had eluded them for so long, they gave me a new and correct pair of cleats for free, making me love my bike shop and my bike shop boys even more than I already do.

1 Fangirl Moment  I’ve mentioned my friend, Abby, before.  Over Easter vacation Abby and I took a road trip to see the Ellen show.  We had a fantastic time and I loved every second of our trip.  Funny enough, my fangirl moment doesn’t directly involve Ellen.  Although Ellen and I did make eye contact when she danced right next to me, but that’s another story for another time.  The day after we returned from our trip, Abby had a big mountain bike race.  She raced 20 miles on her mountain bike.  Can you even fathom such a thing?  I’m a total roadie.  I can pedal for hundreds of miles, but never would I consider entering a race.  Or worse yet, entering a mountain bike race on super technical terrain.  It just sounds like all kinds of torture.  But Abby loves it.  So I made a big sign for her, bought a whistle and some pom poms and set up close to the halfway point to cheer Abby on.  When she came zipping through, I went nuts, waving my sign like a maniac.  At the end of the race I cheered her on at the finish line, totally in awe that she finished such a grueling race.  She was all smiles and thanked me about 100 times for making her a sign.  Apparently it was a first for her.  And that’s what makes me such a fan of Abby, she does incredibly big things, but is moved by the smallest gestures.

1 Easter Ride  Easter service always leaves me in tears.  Easter is my favorite day of the year, something I had in common with my grandmother.  I spent the last 2 Easters at my grandmother’s church in Southern California.  In 2009 I was there to celebrate her birthday and in 2010, I was there for her funeral.  After church, I’d meet up with my Uncle Jon for a bike ride.  He’s quite the accomplished cyclist and I love our rides together.  This year I didn’t go to Southern California, meaning I didn’t get to go on an Easter ride with my uncle.  At Easter service this year, we sung the some of the same hymns we sang at my grandmother’s church last year.  I bawled my eyes out, not only for the beauty of the song, but for the profound hole that my grandmother’s death has left in my life.  It seemed there was only one thing to do to assuage my grief.  I gathered some of my cycling girls and pedaled my sadness up to Shasta Dam.  It was a beautiful ride, the wind whipping the tears off my cheeks.  There’s something about riding that releases heartache and plants healing in its place.

9 Donors Thank you Adam & Suzy C., Anita J., Betty C., Chris F., Janice L., Joy G., Katie L., Laura G., and Tracy H. for donating to the LiveStrong Foundation on my behalf.  You’ve donated $385 on my behalf and I’m touched by your generosity.

$615 to Reach My Goal  If you’d like to make a donation on my behalf to help fund cancer research and treatment, please click here.  It’s my honor to ride in support of and in memory of your loved ones.  Thanks so much for your support!

I look forward to telling you all about my cycling adventures in May!

Fondly,

Alicia

Posted by stuckinmypedals in Bike Adventures Tags: cycling, LiveStrong, Team Fatty

200ish Miles Ridden in March Since I came to the party a little late this year, I’m not exactly sure how many miles I rode this month.  But it’s around 200ish, which is somewhere between threve and plenty-six, but all miles are good miles.

1 Field of Poppies in Bloom My first ride of the month was on a day when the scent of rain on asphalt filled the air.  My friend, Abby, and I set off for a ride in the sprinkles and were greeted by poppies in bloom.  They turned their golden faces to us and I was reminded of when we moved to California and I picked fistfuls of poppies for my mom.  I quickly learned that they’re the state flower and never picked them again.

1 Pesky Bug On the last day in March, I found myself riding the river trail with a friend, a newbie cyclist.  On our way home, we pedaled up a steady incline when I felt something fly down the back of my jersey.  I wasn’t really worried about it.  Shoot, I’ve swallowed flies, narrowly escaped the sting of a bee caught in my jersey, and even had a butterfly flitter right in between my eye and my sunglasses.  So this little gnat of a thing was no big deal.  Except that it started to bite me.  All over my back.  I shimmied and shook my jersey loose, but that little pest just wouldn’t leave.  My friend suggested we stop.  I scoffed at her suggestion. Pffft!  Total newbie suggestion.  Like I was going to let a little bug make me stop riding.  Ha! That night as I scratched and itched my way through a fitful night of sleep I wished I’d listened to her.  Oh, Hindsight, you are so very, very cruel.

33 Miles: My Furthest Distance this Season Abby organized a 30th birthday ride for herself, including SAG wagons, goodie bags, and medals of completion.  The wind advisory that day predicted gusts in between 35 and 45 mph.  Frankly, I didn’t need the wind advisory to tell me that because the fence that had blown down in our backyard was a pretty solid indicator of the insanity that awaited.  So, I slipped on my tights and arm warmers and readied myself for the ride.  After all, I couldn’t let the birthday girl have all the fun.  Plus I had decorations for her helmet and bike.

photo by Jeff Worthington

1 New Cycling Game Sometimes I invent games to keep myself occupied when I’m riding.  For example, when I’m gutting it out up a steep hill and battling the urge to simultaneously pass out and throw up, my favorite game is ‘I Can Pass That’.  It’s a simple game wherein I set my gaze on an object a few feet ahead of me and tell myself I can pass it.  I can pass that stick.  I can pass that rock.  I can pass that sign.  I can pass that roadkill. Pretty soon I’ve passed enough things that I’m at the top of the hill.  This year I invented a new game.  I call it ‘Wardrobe Bingo’.  It’s a perfect game for windy days when clothing and such might be blowing out of cars.  My goal is to have ridden by a complete outfit by the end of the season.  So far I’ve seen a lone green glove and a pair of sunglasses.

photo by Jeff Worthington

1 Time I cried on my bike At mile 30 of Abby’s birthday ride, I pedaled by the cemetery where my dad is buried.  I’d ridden with Terry and other friends all 30 miles leading up to that point.  But as cyclists do, we’d spread out and I found myself riding the last three miles alone.  I was grateful for the solitude.  Riding by the cemetery hasn’t gotten any easier, even with the passage of time.  This continues to surprise me because my relationship with my dad was complicated at best. The wind was ripping right at me and I looked at the giant American flag standing guard in the cemetery.  The wind snapped it to attention on the pole with such force that I thought the flag might just tear off and float away.  I tucked my chin into the unforgiving headwind.  The cord of the flag clanged on the pole over and over again, like a bell tolling a funeral dirge.  My legs pedaled slow circles and I cried.  The wind dried my tears before they could even hit the ground.  That night I went to sleep with pink tear trails windburned onto my cheeks.  Sometimes cycling is about so much more than being on the bike.  In March I had the pleasure of hearing Maya Angelou speak and her words came back to me there on the road by the cemetery.  ”Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently.”  For me cycling is all about finding courage.  Finding courage to do things I thought I’d never be able to.  Finding courage to fight for others in need.  The place I find that courage is on the seat of my bike.

$135 Dollars Donated Thank you Adam & Suzy, Chris, Laura & Janice for making a donation to The LiveStrong Foundation on my behalf.  Your generosity touches me and compels me to get on my bike.

$865 Dollars Until I Reach My Goal If you’d like to make a donation to the LiveStong Foundation on my behalf, click the link above or over to the right.  All donations are tax deductible.  Thanks so much for your generosity and support.

photo by Jeff Worthington

I look forward to telling you all about my cycling adventures in April!

Posted by stuckinmypedals in Bike Adventures Tags: cycling, LiveStrong, Team Fatty