Ride for Jim Report

We made it, but it wasn't easy. But neither is fighting cancer.

Robert, who often wakes early with me and rides alongside, and I decided some time ago to participate in the Ride for Jim event following a route from Richmond to Yorktown, Virginia -- it was largely because of my convincing him how flat this event was, I must admit.

This cycling event honors Jim Popp, a physician who fell victim to cancer, and supports the work of medical students participating in oncology research at MCV -- an obvious worthwhile pursuit in which to participate.

Last year when Joel and I decided to take on the trip, we found it to be a mix of smooth, flat roads until the very end.

I should have remembered the end which we'll come back to soon.

What I did remember how uncomfortable it felt last year waiting for hours to change out of sweaty, salty bike gear. So this year my wife graciously offered to pick up Robert and I upon completion in Yorktown foregoing the necessity for us to wait for the limo bus and truck to haul us all back to Richmond hours later.

This year my wife was coming to rescue us from chamois irritation... and stuck-in-traffic-with-other-irritated-chamois-wearing-riders frustration... thank you Kris!

So the night before I didn't sleep well. Anxious about the miles ahead woke me throughout the night -- hourly it seemed... it started at 3:20 am. Departure time from our homes was 6 am. We had decided why not ride from our front doors to the starting point located in downtown Richmond. A mere 17 miles we thought, downhill for the most part, no problem we figured.

So I found myself at Robert's house, in the dark, listening to the early morning sounds of birds and wet leaves dropping off early morning moisture. I thought against ringing the doorbell at 6 am on a Sunday - I knew his wife wouldn't approve.

C'mon Robert I thought twitching, I don't want to be late to kick this thing off.

After finally appearing from his home and giving him grief about not being punctual like my German forefathers have taught me to be, we were off and pedaling toward Richmond. It was a largely downhill, uneventful trip and we arrived unscathed.

Here we are at the beginning within the MCV complex. I admit we were early and perhaps I'm in shock as we have so many more miles to go - hence the look. Robert looks like he needs more coffee don't you think?

About forty minutes later after some picture taking, conversation about cancer and the work at Massey Cancer Center at MCV... we were off to Yorktown. And moving way too fast.

Pause for life lesson: This is when I am reminded that pride is not only wrong but also painful.

Now while being an unwritten rule it is understood among those that find themselves biking in groups that if you sit on someone's wheel and draft, you're obligated to get to the front and pull everyone else for a bit -- it's only fair.

By this point our route had taken us to my childhood stomping grounds and so I knew the hill was coming. We were rolling along at 20 mph (much faster than my 18 or so) and as in the beginning of every group ride, the adrenaline was coursing. So naturally I felt it time to pull for some time.

Half an hour later I realized my mistake -- I was surrounded by twenty-somethings going twenty-something. They were way too young going way too fast or maybe I was way too old going way too slow. Either way I allowed pride to push me to the front of this pack and pull them up a long steady hill. This is also when Robert claimed I tried to drop him -- so untrue by the way.

The Charles City rest stop came just in time, actually didn't come soon enough, and I kept trying to convince myself that I just needed to eat a little, drink a little, and stretch a little -- hence my concerned look (and Robert looks like he woke up).

At this point Peter, he who rode a mountain bike and kept pace with us, had already joined us and motivated us to keep up the insane pace I swore I would not continue... but then did. Pride again.

Our trip continued toward Williamsburg under a canopy of trees that thankfully provided shade and cooler temperatures.

It was then that I pointed out to Robert the bridge we were about to cross. It looked like quite a hill to overcome about which I heard Robert complaining behind me.

Will (my colleague and friend) decided to seek us out just after crossing the Chickohominy River and there he was as we sped down the other side. It was great seeing he and his wife with a cooler in hand prepared to offer coolness -- how awesome is that! We left after a few minutes of chatting and I realized right away that each time I stopped the legs spinning, they fought my efforts of wanting to go a little further down the road.

And then we encountered hills which I failed to remember accurately so when we arrived at our final stop... I didn't care about taking pictures but instead searched for something that was less sweet than Gatorade and Honey Stinger Waffles (and I do quite love them).

Remember the end part I eluded to? It is called Colonial Parkway and it is rough. Rough like pebble strewn onto concrete rough that made the last 13 miles seem like 20+ and people on the side of the road hunched over with leg cramps.

It was at one point that Robert commented that we certainly don't look as good as they do (a certain fit looking twenty-something cycler) but then we weren't cramping either. Perhaps there's something to this older but wiser adage. We were tired, but we weren't on the side of the road eating grass while grunting to God to please make the muscles stop seizing and shaking uncontrollable -- sounds bad huh?

We finally arrived and were happy to do so. 85.0 miles completed and glad to be done. The family (including JB my father-in-law) were there to greet us with cameras and smiles. A very nice welcome indeed.

Lessons learned? 1) Cancer is a lot scarier than 85 miles. 2) Friends once again stepped up and contributed to a great cause and I am motivated to see what the next Ride for ____ might be. 3) Seeing twenty-something blow by me on older bikes helps remind me of the turtoise and the hare -- I am so not the hare 4) pride can hurt physically and 5) don't let my wife take side-profile shots while I wear lycra -- I am now motivated to eat less Honey Waffles... darn it!

Overcoming Challenges on and off the Bike

Hello all:

When I was 19 a work colleague must have (because I don't clearly remember now) convinced me that riding on a hard saddle over many miles is fun. It took and I bought a Miyata bicycle and put a few miles on those tires. And then college got to the front of the line and took hold -- so much for bicycling.

Fast forward 15 years (yikes) and yes, I lot more pounds. After many a year being off the bicycle, my wife kindly presented me with a Trek this past March knowing that the bike bug had bit about a year ago. Since about last summer I have traveled the roads of my neighborhood on my mountain bike thinking that if I stayed with it a year... perhaps I would take a more serious look at a road bike. No need... my 40th present (no Corvette for me thank you) now stood in the living room waiting for me to climb on.

So for the past few months I have begun to understand some intricacies of what is required to get on a bike trying to go just a little farther and a little faster than last time -- it's harder than one might think. I have learned to actually take pride in tenths of an average mph increase. I'm so perplexed by professionals that seem to average over 30 mph when I can only painfully push almost 17 on my own (perhaps the 50 lbs I carry over theirs is one reason). When I'm slower, the cyclocomputer constantly berates me with its little arrow that points down when my average speed is down. When I'm faster... that little computer is my friend. When I have an off day, I look at my log that goes back a year -- those completed miles motivate.

I've now completed just over 1000 miles since March.

Hard to believe because more than a few times I wondered not how but if I would make it back home. I do remember that when I was 19 it was never a matter of if... funny how age creeps into one's confidence. My rides have gone beyond my neighborhood with loops just a little longer each time. While distance over 20 miles once seemed insurmountable, the miles now seem to pass a little easier. 32 on my own is now possible, 50 on my own perhaps soon.

And as everyone with a hobby knows, one easily finds lots of online material and magazines to further the appetite for more. I know more about cogs, derailers, headsets and bike seats -- although no where near enough not to rely on a bike mechanic.

What was once largely painful, is now fun and challenging -- but honestly... still painful. I've read that perhaps like rowing, competitive biking is a matter of who is willing to suffer more... uh, suffering hurts. And I'm guessing that there's a lot of suffering to get better. I don't want to race, but I do want to be competitive among those I ride alongside. There is nothing more disheartening than seeing others ride up a hill and "being dropped" to fend for yourself to the end of the ride. I've read that signing up for a ride motivates one to ride out of the garage early in the morning.

So I've signed up. My name has been added to the form, been sent in and I'm committed.

70 miles from Richmond to Yorktown in late August. Then another distance about the same in September (about a month later) and then in October the goal of 100 miles (I'm guessing about 6 hours on the bike -- which sounds really painful).

Why? Maybe I'm racing against not just time but also age (I hear midlife crisis being uttered by some of you). Perhaps like golf, I'm competing against myself. I find it therapeutic to get caught in the rain as I did yesterday, enjoy being on a quiet road as the early morning sun rises ahead, laugh (and grimace) alongside others as we ride toward's the day's goal of speed or time, and wonder to myself what 100 miles will feel like.

So here's to overcoming challenges. The Ride for Jim challenge on the 22nd of August will be the next one. I've got this yellow bracelet around my wrist reminding me that others have been challenged by much more serious challenges - fighting cancer. When the hill ahead looks insurmountable or the distance yet to go seems too long to overcome... I look down at my Livestrong bracelet.

On August 22 I will ride to Yorktown and I will think of my own grandmother that I never met as she died of breast cancer decades before I had a chance to meet her.

I will also be thinking of you: Kristin M, Tracey W, Jeanette C, Scott M, Will B, Cindy W., Jennifer H., and Barbara Clark... and hopefully more supporters as the ride draws nearer. On the Ride for Jim website you've shared who in honor of you've contributed. Names that I've taken with me on my rides too.

Two weeks ago on an early morning ride I stopped at the bottom of hill for a drink of water. It was shortly before 7 am on a weekday morning. I had already ridden almost an hour with another to go. I was standing there on the side of the road, sweat running off the end of my nose thinking of those that had already sent in a contribution... perhaps they're not just spending their dollars on supporting cancer research I thought... but maybe they're also supporting my efforts that morning as I work toward meeting the 70 mile goal.

It was a motivating moment that led to my fastest time yet.

Thanks for your support everyone. I hope to share more as I try to make each of my "sponsors" proud of my achievement. Thanks for your belief in me and more importantly, thank you for spending your well-earned dollars toward supporting cancer research.

Until next time, I'll be thinking of you when my legs scream at me to stop... to which I'll remember your commitment to my efforts. It really does have nothing to do with the bike.

Steven