not walking the hills

in the week before the livestrong challenge, the emails start rolling in; times and locations for all the events, instructions and reminders about the rides and dinner... it began to change my overall feeling toward the weekend (or the ride, at least) from one of nervousness to one of utter excitement. my participation in the weekend serves as a phenomenal reminder that at no point am i ever alone in knowing the intimacies of cancer; i am, in fact, surrounded by comrades and friends who have all been part of it - either another survivor, a caretaker, or a loved one - and it fills me with a wave of emotion that i really cannot describe.

rotten and i headed to the national constitution center for dinner on saturday night and it was a great event. it is quite a collection of people - the top fundraising teams are invited, along with anyone raising more than $3,000 for the challenge that year. there were 135 people who fell into that category this year in philly. people are recognized for the work they have done for the foundation and everyone leaves feeling appreciated, but more importantly, like they are part of something so much bigger than just themselves. we met a couple from brooklyn who rented a car to drive down to do the 45-mile ride because the wife is 5-months pregnant - they had been hoping to do the century. they are devoted athletes and took the time from their schedule to spend the weekend in the sixth borough, eating pasta and riding their bikes. i also met an ovarian cancer survivor and her mom, who drove in from kentucky for the weekend. mom was here to cheer and the survivor was here for the 5k run. she did a run a few weeks ago in 24 minutes! she says she used to be faster, but this is good for now. i'd say so. i was super impressed. and that's the thing about the weekend. you are just surrounded by amazing, incredible, strong people.

which is where i found myself all day sunday, flanked by rotten and wendy, as we rode 100 miles over the course of eight and a half hours (or so). i couldn't have done the ride without them. there were moments where their presence caused such a lump in my throat, i was so happy to have them there, doing this incredible thing with me. when the ride was queuing up, i didn't see as many "survivor" tags as i had last year in the 40-mile ride. i wonder how many of us did the century. but as the first twenty miles elapsed and we found ourselves working into bigger and bigger hills (we were riding over ridges that you could actually see in front of you, like mini centre county ridges) i realized this undertaking was as big as i had imagined. i just tried to settle in, enjoy the descents, drink plenty of fluids, and not get off the bike on a single hill.

just before rest stop #6 there was a mile-long climb. someone had taken the time to put up signs - "rest stop 6 ALL THE WAY UP" or "one mile to go ALL UP" or "COLD drinks and hot dogs AT THE TOP OF THE HILL". those signs were heartbreakers. just a bit earlier, jimnerd had ridden past on his motorcycle and cheered me up considerably. he told us mom and dad were up ahead, and i knew they would be waiting with a cooler of ice-cold whole foods cola. oh, sugar-filled goodness. but i had to get up that hill first. rotten rode along side of me, listening to my whimpers and cheered me on, telling me not to get off the bike, we were almost there. we came around a corner and the hill kicked up again. it almost broke my heart. we rode past another "almost there" sign. i wanted to run it over. almost everyone was walking. but soon, out of nowhere, i heard mom and dad and saw them and we were at the top. i just wanted to cry. it was the toughest part of the ride for me. and i had done it. and we were more than halfway home. and when we pulled into the rest stop, there we finally saw a ton of other people, who had all suffered up the same hill, and i'm willing to bet most of them had a complete set of lungs and aren't on chemo. so, i sat in the shade and ate a pile of stuff that i probably shouldn't have. it was the painful highlight of my day, getting to the top of that hill with my friends, seeing my family, and just knowing i did the worst part.

the rest of the ride, the second half, went slow and steady. my legs never cramped, they were just tired from the climbing. and with the exception of rotten's legs, i'm pretty sure everyone's felt that way at that point, well, most of the people we were riding with. we saw a handful of people throw in the towel at each subsequent rest stop and sag wagons drove by with bikes on the roofs and tired cyclists inside. i was terrified that we'd gone that far just to have to quit because we wouldn't make it in the time allotted. but with 20 miles to go i heard a woman say we had until 5 or 5:30 and i knew we would finish in time, to the sound of at least a few people cheering. the last 15 miles are the same for all the rides, so i had done them before and this helped them to pass a little more quickly. the rolling hills on the way out are downhill, the ones on the way back are ever so slightly uphill, but after riding the steep ones earlier in the day, they felt okay, and my legs did too. i was able to cheer a couple of people on, since i had some breath and could talk, plus it helped me cheer myself on. it was a huge undertaking and a long day, and i had done it, even though i had never 100% believed it would happen. lucky for me i had rotten and wendy with me at the end, just like at the beginning. my family met us at the finish line and my cousin and goddaughter were there, too. it was great.

throughout the ride, when it got toughest, i would imagine crossing the finish line and collecting my rose. the survivors that cross the line get yellow roses. i imagined i would just start crying my eyes out. i shed a few tears, but i couldn't bring myself to cry. i was too happy, too tired, and i think i didn't have any salt left in my body to produce too many of them. it was hugely emotional for me, a big accomplishment, and probably the most physically demanding thing i have ever done. it made those adventure races feel easy.

my body might not be the same as it used to be, but sometimes i think my mind is tougher than before and this was a day where that shift in power made up for the lack of lung. last year whern i told myself i could do the century i never imagined i'd be back on chemo and fighting the cancer once again. i just knew i could do it and that was it. and once i found out i was sick again, i knew working toward this would help keep me going, help keep me alive. it was an amazing experience from start to finish, and i feel proud of myself. i rarely allow myself to feel that way. but a day later, less sore, and well fed, i look back at it and know i am the luckiest girl alive - my family knew no way better to spend their day, and it meant the world to me that they'd drive to the middle of nowhere with a cooler of coke just to spend a few minutes with my friends and i. my brother, two days after putting a giant fishhook through his thumb, one day after riding his motorcycle from canada to home, came out to ride his other motorcycle around, cheering us on and making us smile. my cousin and goddaughter wanted to be there to cheer me on and spent the day at the finish, only to spend a few moments with me before we all headed home. and everyone who sent messages or called, cheering me on from afar. and rotten and wendy, i mean it from the bottom of my heart and with all my being. i couldn't have done it without them. not at all. i am so lucky.