Reason No. 16 to Ride is a great holiday bike giveaway!

Here’s your chance to give your and others the gift of health this season.  Sign up for the San Diego Tour de Cure or better yet, Team US Cares rides the Tour de Cure and start your fundraising to help make a difference!

Raise $100 by December 16th and be entered to win a Specialized Road Bike courtesy of UC Cyclery!

$100 = 1 entry; $200 = 2 entries; $300 = 3 entries

About Diabetes
Diabetes is a disease in which the body does not produce or properly use insulin. Insulin is a hormone that is needed to convert sugar, starches and other food into energy needed for daily life. The cause of diabetes continues to be a mystery, although both genetics and environmental factors appear to play roles. There are 23.6 million Americans living with diabetes, a disease that is outpacing heart disease, cancer and AIDS. Diabetes is a disease that has deadly serious consequences, and there is no cure.

Reason number 15 to ride is you make a difference to people like Virginia Garner and others like her.

Virginia Garner is a blood cancer patient who became part of the LLS family when she was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML).  She is now a First Connection volunteer, a vocal member of her local CML Support Group, active in the Light The Night Walk “CML BUSTERS”, a mentor through Team In Training, involved in presentations through the School & Youth program and just an incredible resource!  Here is a recent note from Virginia:

Ten years ago today (April 19, 2009) I sat in an examination room at UCLA as a participant in a clinical trial where I swallowed my first Gleevec pills.  It’s hard to believe that all that time has passed.  I remember having the pills in one hand and a cup of water in the other and chatting with Dr. Sawyers, Ginny the nurse, Van my husband, and Connie my sister-in-law until they lost patience and demanded that I swallow the pills.  When I did, there was a hush in the room that I’ll never forget.  I interpreted it as everyone there wondering what would happen next:  Would my eyeballs fall out?  Would my arms fall off?  Would I descend into uncontrollable fits of coughing?  Of course, what did happen was absolutely nothing, except that I walked out of that room armed with a new hope and on the road to complete molecular remission of the CML that had ravaged my body.  That’s a pretty big nothing, huh?

For over two years now, my follow up tests have come back showing no detectable cancer cells, and I live a full and productive life full of energy and joie de vivre.  These days I gratefully dedicate my time to others going through cancer treatment, whether it is by sharing my story with patients or fundraising for cancer research.  I have the hope that one day all cancers will be obliterated, and more people can live a satisfying and full existence like me.  Life is good!

To learn more about LLS, please visit www.LLS.org.

You would think that as I approach this week end’s Tour de Cure, I would be preoccupied with training, nutrition and preparation. Not so much.

Part of my mental game plan is to go into this century ride for the American Diabetes Association with a happy, upbeat attitude. One large key in overcoming some of my obstacles has been to love what I am doing and find the happiness within.

While Tide may not be aware of how they are helping me across that finish line (and thus helping others) I thought I’d share with you something that has sent me into uncontrollable peals of laughter every time I look at it…

I went over to BeTheStain.com and upload my pic to their applet, making me the talking stain that you see in the commercial. Sure its dumb, but seriously, what sane person spends their day off biking 100 miles.. on purpose?

There are just so many ways I can help make a difference, and surprisingly, it isn’t always all about me. (I know, I know!)

This year I thought I could best help by supporting Gregory Rutchik. Gregory is campaigning for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, Greater Los Angeles Chapter as a Man of the Year 2009 for the Los Angeles.

I’ll admit, I’m a little biased. Not only am I supporting him in his campaign, but I did nominate him as a candidate. (which is why I’ll sneak in a little link for you to donate by clicking here)

During his 9 week campaign (which ends on March 29th) I’ve learned how the Man & Woman of the Year event differs from what we do when cycling for the LLS cause. The MWOY helps two children in each chapter. The Greater Los Angeles chapter has been working with two amazing children, Tyler Cordova and Kelly Delaney.

Watching these two at our most recent event really showed me that personal strength and courage comes from within at any age level. Tyler has certainly learned this, although he has had to learn more than any child should (how many 5 year olds can discuss the differences between prednisone and dexamethasone),

Speaking to Kelly’s mother at this same event, she told me how incredibly grateful she was for the generosity of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and that many strides have been made for cancer research and treatment enabling children like Kelly to return to a normal happy childhood.  I was overwhelmed with emotion when she said “We are eternally grateful for the chance given to Kelly to have her life back”.

I’m not always cycling for a cure, sometimes I am working in other ways to help the LLS’s mission: Cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin’s disease and myeloma, and improve the quality of life of patients and their families.

Recently, the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, Greater Los Angeles Chapter honored Gregory Rutchik by nominating him as a Man of the Year 2009 for the Los Angeles.

I ask that you join Gregory Rutchik by making a contribution to his LLS fundraising campaign. Each dollar raised counts as one vote and the candidate who gets the most donations is named our local Man or Woman of the Year. As Man of the Year candidate he is raising money in honor of two local patients and truly hope to help make blood cancers a thing of the past.

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s mission is an ambitious task and Gregory has taken it on! DONATE to help Gregory Rutchik help children like Tyler Cordova and Kelly Delaney.

Gregory and Kelly

Gregory and Tyler

Last Sunday I joined Les Light, George Lodge and a few hundred others for the Alzheimer’s Association Memory Walk® in Downtown LA.
George mentioned that he had planned on running the event but since I was there he’d keep me company at a brisk pace. Now you may think that walking 5k would be a piece of cake for an endurance athlete – after all, I cycle any times over that distance – I know I thought that!
It’s Thursday and I am still recovering. The front of my legs from the knee down are in tremendous pain. I was told these are shin splits. Whatever the heck it is, its not fun but well worth the cause.

The train almost did me in. I had no idea I would get motion sickness, not having been on a train in 30 years (for those of you doing the math, I was 16. Trust me, it does too add up to 29). I thought it was extremely ironic that I made it over 200K on a bike only to be taken down by a train ride.

Fortunately, I had met some terrific people along the way, Kate and Sue pulled me to the end of the car where we had lots of room, lovely bottles of water waiting for us and time to regroup.

I hadn’t expected all that was done for us. I’m no stranger to corporate sponsors but in this case it was an amazing out pouring. Via Rail donated their trains to us for the trek from Niagara to Toronto. They provided the endless water bottles too.

We returned to the Exhibition Centre and I got my bike and gear. Just then Joe, who I had also met on the second day, promised to see me back to the B&B, making sure the American didn’t get lost along the way.

As soon as we took off, I got sicker and told Joe I would walk. He wouldn’t hear of it. He took my pack, tossed it on his handle bars set about his way, taking care of the US. I could not believe it, 2 days, his own gear and he was still willing to help me out. Just one more incredible story in this whole journey.

Day two had me extremely excited that I was going to see Niagara Falls. I woke up, donned my Team US gear and got ready to pedal away.

I don’t know what happened, I felt awesome, but I was working harder than I have in a long time. Fortunately for me, the game is mental and I had a lot of help along the way. I was wearing my US cycling clothes and everyone was asking where I was from, they were all very impressed that I flew up just for the event and going back immediately. So many people asked me why. I was dumbfounded and never came up with an answer other than it must be the same reason as theirs.

After a while, people were calling me “LA” I have no idea how everyone found out but even the traffic volunteers would yell “Go LA” as I got there. It might have been the Toronto police officer I rode with for awhile (I was very impressed that I could keep up).

They were definitely right, day was an easier ride for us. I loved the area we were in and did a lot of rubber necking. But I’ll be honest, two days on a bike in and out of the rain, with less sleep then anyone should have, takes its toll on you.

Out in the middle of beautiful nowhere, I hit a hill around 60 Km, so I was pretty tired at this point. About 3/4s of the way up I saw bikers who were off to the side resting and onlookers, they starting cheering me on to the top and up I went. I could almost see the crest and thought I won’t make it, but three guys started yelling “USA, USA, USA” and it was all I needed.

Leaving the 64 km pit stop the Niagara Ice Dogs bus stopped and offered me a ride. I explained I was OK an had just stopped in the shade to stretch out my back. After they left, I thought I should have asked to go inside for a second so I could at least say I had been on the tour bus, but I knew if I accepted a ride, I could not live with my self after all this work. Just before the final pit stop I hit a pot hole, hard. The back tire blew and I was done. I wasn’t too worried, there had been support and sweep vehicles everywhere. So I walked, as I walked I realized that I was pretty alone and that maybe i was at the end of the stragglers – this got me very concerned. My angels Erica and Renee picked me up, took me to the next stop and we tried to get a bike tech. Seems they were all out. We finally got one and replaced my tire but I had lost so much time they were packing up the stop and I really would be alone. There was talk of taking me about 1 km before the finish line so I could still cycle in. It seemed appealing and cheating at the same time. Instead I got taken to a small group of riders and dropped off for safety but still able to ride a reasonable amount. WIth both days being over 100 km and my cycling too and from the event I was able to still feel pretty good about a 3 km loss and know that I was well on the way to the finish line.

Finally, I rounded the last curve and started heading downhill. I heard the Falls. I looked to my right and could see the mist coming up and started to cry. I realized my glasses were fogging up and I could wipe out pretty bad, so I pulled it together and made it in.

I honestly thought I would hit the finish and be a part of the hugging and the crying and all the hoopla. Instead I got some food, found out where to go next, talked to a few people and got on the train back in sort of a quiet way. Oh, and we learned that trains make me seasick.

I really didn’t want to tell this story and I really didn’t want to pass on sharing it, so if you have a problem with guys and potty humour you may want to pass on what it is like to sleep with 2,500 other people around you.

First off, I dragged my gear and myself to the tent at the end of a very long row. I saw that my tent mate had already been there, stuff strewn everywhere, with trash left in the open areas. I thought, “oh, this is not going to be good”. Pushing my OCD aside, I arranged everything as neatly as possible on my side, took out what I needed plus laying out tomorrow’s gear in tiny stacks. Off to the showers I went. When I returned, she had taken her gear, left her trash, and I had a whole tent to myself. If you know me, it should not surprise you that I wouldn’t move the take up the whole tent but kept everything just as it was. I know, I’m a whack job.

The guys in the tent next to me were amazing. I am sure they have known each other forever because what followed could only keep the best of friends in a single tent together. Or they were just that tired, and slap happy.

We had GasMan and his companion. It started just as I was about to close my eyes, they arrive and I hear “Look out!” and GasMan just rips one off! His friend starts on him about how rude that was, its rank etc. In return another one is expelled. I hear shouts of “Don’t you waft that over here”, not on my pillow!” This goes on for hours, I swear I have no idea how anyone have that much gas and so loud too.

It doesn’t get better, they start arguing with one telling the other to go take a shit, refusal of course, they settle down, it starts up again. Just as I am texting my husband to let him know I am offering my extra tent space to non-gasboy so I can get some sleep, they get quiet and all is well.

It should go without saying (but it won’t) that I woke up to the loudest longest fart in all of cancer riding history. He slept through it, his companion did not.

We took off and it was glorious. A force of yellow and wheels wielding its way through Toronto. I was all giggles and excitement. Not being from the area, I have no idea what to expect, when we would leave city streets, etc.

I had been nervous that there were no route slips printed out (a wonderful booklet did give us a map the night before) and no arrows painted on the street itself. There was no reason to worry. The event was wonderfully organized. Clearly marked signs along the way and volunteers at every intersection. If you think about the sheer distance of the ride and how many intersections that must be, it is boggling.

I had my first understanding of how much this meant to everyone as we rode. There were people all along the route cheering us on. I’ve seen crowds at the start and a few block up but never an entire event route. I think my favorite sign was “Go Brit! Ride your fanny for your granny!”

There were about 5 or six stops a day, about every 20 km (12.5 miles) this both slowed me down and kept me going. For many people this was their first event and a two day one at that, the rest and hydration they provided was excellent. Unfortunately I was in the early pack to get to the first stop. That meant everyone was surprised and just slammed to a stop at the driveway. No one called out, many of us could not clip out in time and down I went in the midst of a domino effect. It must have looked awful, for two days everyone around me was trying to send me off to the medic tent, but honestly, I went right away, they cleaned me up and I was fine. The hardest part was the band-aid pulling at my skin, so I took that off and continued on.

Once again I need to thank Coach Ramon and Team in Training. All the times he took me out on the PCH and made me tackle those hills in baby steps really paid off. My mentor, Jayne Ramos certainly did her share too. As we hit the hills, people were walking in herds. I lost momentum and I am not a strong enough rider to recover from that so there were times when I had to walk but would get back on the bike as soon as I could. We had one hard turn to a hill that stopped everyone. Coming around a blind curve like that and into a stopped pack is pretty unnerving, I can tell you. I saw one gentleman who made the curve, past the stopped pack but couldn’t recover – he toppled over and could not get out of his clips.

The screw in my handbars were stripped. Every time I hit a bump they would tip down and I would pull them back up. Surprisingly, this did not awake the tumor in my hand. For a change it was quiet and behaved nicely all weekend. Because of the handlebars I walked ALL of a really scary downhill. I still have trouble with my fear of down hill but thankfully not as much as before. This time it was more of a safety about being able to grab the brakes evenly with the bars moving as I rode.

We had been hearing about the BIG HILL since prior to the event. Everyone was pretty worked up about it. It really wasn’t bad, just long. I have to admit I did walk a small part of it. I got to the top and felt a bit dehydrated so I sat on a wall with a few other folk, drank up and had some beef jerky for the salt. I’m not sure, but I actually think I napped sitting up for a while.

After that, there was about 10 km if I recall, to the camp ground. Yay! The route that day was fairly easy compared to our terrain, there was no Encinal Cyn in sight and it certainly wasn’t Solvang. Of course 100+ km of anything isn’t that easy but it was the harder of the two days so I felt pretty secure.