C.: Hey, d.c. I saw your comment about “The Greatest Coach of All Time,” Bill Billichick. I didn’t know that you were such a fan!
d.: %&^$#@
C.: Well, while d.c. is blowing off steam, I’ll continue reading his autobiographical manuscript about training for and competing in an Ironman distance triathlon. The manuscript is entitled ‘BBEYOND THE THIRTEENTH MILE: THE IRON MAN CHRONICLES. I’m on chapter nineteen. You can read along if you wish.
CHAPTER 19: THE RIDE
1943: Run course; mile 18:
Well, this is where the “rubber meets the road,” so to speak. I still can finish in 14 hours. I feel stronger after quoting that verse. It’s helpful when I’m tired and discouraged. I remember the first time I ran this far. It helped boost my confidence to believe that I could finish this course. So did finishing “The Ride” in Austin. That told me that I was in the best shape of my life…
***
Officially it’s known as the “Ride for the Roses"—Lance Armstrong's annual 100-mile and 100-kilometer bicycle ride to help raise money for cancer research. There are also 10 and 25 mile rides for those who aren’t interested in riding long distances. To three of my friends and me, Armstrong’s Ride for the Roses will always simply be known as "The Ride." The course itself is ideal, just challenging enough to be fun, but not so hard as to be discouraging. What really makes the ride enjoyable, however, are the participants themselves. Most of them are experienced riders, and they are a joy with whom to ride. The courage of the ones who have survived cancer is awesome. Two riders impressed me more than any of the others.
The first was in a pack of riders just ahead of me in the staging area. Three or four in this pack had pictures of a two-year-old girl pinned on their backs with a notation under the picture that read, "In loving memory of Melinda Brown." The last rider to my left had two words added to his notation that almost ripped my heart out. Those two words added to his notation were "my daughter."
I thought about Ali and the fact that I hadn't seen her in seven years. In my heart, though, I knew she was doing well. I also thought about how much Seth had become a part of my life, and how hard it would be to lose him now. These two thoughts almost overwhelmed me as I choked back a tear. Mercifully, the air horn sounded, and my group of riders was off for the ride. I rode about 40 miles, noticing all the riders with yellow cards on their backs, signifying that they had overcome cancer. In the distance, I saw one rider who appeared to be doing one-legged isolation exercises.
It's kind of a long ride, I thought, to be doing one-legged isos. As I drew closer, my eyes revealed the truth—this courageous rider only had one leg, and he was riding a regular bicycle.
If I could have, without endangering my own safety, I would have tipped my helmet to him. Instead, I could only offer a little fist-pumping and some shouted words of encouragement as I rode by.
I realize that there are more important things in life than riding a bicycle for 62 miles, like almost anything constructive. But besides the fact that it’s fun, it can be as satisfying or frustrating as you allow it to become. The arrangements I had to make to do this particular ride were only slightly easier than doing a graduate-level calculus problem—in a language with which I’m not familiar.
I think that doing this ride was so important to me because cancer is so prevalent in my family. I rode for my uncle who succumbed to this horrible disease just a couple months beforehand, as well as for my grandmother and grandfather who also died of cancer well before enough was known about it to treat it properly. Not only did I ride for them, but I also rode for my cousin, who has overcome Hodgkin's disease twice, as well as leukemia later. (The doctors believed that the last cancer was caused by all the chemotherapy that my cousin was obligated to take with the first two rounds of treatments for Hodgkin’s disease.)
Lance Armstrong himself has overcome cancer, when he wasn't even expected to live through the treatments for it. To all the survivors: I salute each and every one of you and wish you good health for many years to come. As for the rest of you: if you ever find yourself in the vicinity of Austin, Texas the first weekend in April, bring your bike along, pick a distance, and do this most enjoyable and encouraging ride!
***
Even though Lance Armstrong has since been disgraced by an unproven scandal, I still hold this ride in high regard (although this was the one and only time that my schedule has allowed me to do it.) This is especially true now since I’ve had my own minor brush with this awful disease.