Several times this week the subject of adversity has been addressed by Larry, Don, Mike, or Taylor.  Today seemed to aggregate those separate thoughts into a singular practical application.  The day dawned with dark clouds, threatening to rain and blow at any moment.  This was to be the “final push” to Salt Lake City and the conclusion of the 2009 Ride From Reno at Huntsman Cancer Institute; we planned to arrive around 4 o’clock in the afternoon and Paul Berg, along with his sweetheart, Tiffany, were to meet us in their Shelby Cobra and lead us up to HCI.

My wonderful brother, Coleman, who has completed 4 previous Rides From Reno with me arrived Friday night with his wife Ann and children, JJ, Isable, and Gabby in tow.  Coleman rode Day 1 and then had to return to his duties at Microsoft for the week before rejoining us for the final push on Saturday.

On Friday, Don, Mike, and Taylor all rode from Delta to Eureka (50 miles) in order to shorten the distance they had to ride on Saturday (Delta to Salt Lake City is approximately 140 miles).  A little before 8 a.m. Saturday morning, the Shock Troops from the Bountiful Mazda/Bountiful Bicycle Center Cycling Club showed up.  All was set, the ball tee’d up, everything in its order in the queue.

And then Mother Nature stepped in.

The 50 miles to Eureka were moderate in their pace and only Bountiful Mazda accompanied Larry and I, out of the 6 riders who started in Reno, on this distance.  We arrived in Eureka, picked-up Mike and Taylor, along with 4 members of their Utah County cycling club, and Don and Coleman.  We flew down an 8 to 10 mile descent and then turned north on Utah Highway 68.  That’s where things got ramped-up.

The riders from Bountiful Mazda were:  Russ Thompson, John & Alison Lauck, Allan Johnson, Todd Handy, Mike Petroff, and Loren Roundy.  I love each of them and consider them the dearest of friends (my thanks to each of you for making this day possible!).  John and Alison were out in front on their tandem, with Russ beside them and I was tucked in beside the Lauck’s with Russ in front of me.  We had a bit of a tailwind and it didn’t take more than a few minutes for them to ramp the speed up to 26 to 28 mph.  Game on.

One of the funniest things said all week actually came out of my mouth as we were flying along Highway 68 at what could only be called a “spirited” pace.  I looked over at Alison and shouted over the wind, “I’m not sure if this is supposed to happen, but I’m seeing stars.”  Alison smiled knowingly, and both John and Russ looked back smiling as well.  “There’s Venus, Saturn, and Jupiter,” I shouted out.  And then I said,  “there’s something I didn’t expect to see, Russ.  Uranus!”  I could see Russ bouncing up and down, laughing in the saddle, and John and Alison laughing as well.  But they didn’t miss a beat as we rode on at breakneck speed.

We stopped at Mark and Kathy McGregor’s home for a quick lunch break, and it was a tender time for all.  Mark passed away nearly 4 years ago from what started as colon cancer (he was diagnosed about the same time I was).  After beating back the colon cancer, the disease returned over the next several years to the liver, lungs, and brain.  Mark was one of the most genuinely kind and gracious people you’d ever meet and everyone who spent any time with him was a better person for the experience.  Kathy and the children have hosted us on our ride in to Huntsman Cancer Institute for at least the last 4 years, and if my memory is still working clearly, Mark was part of the hosting party the year before he passed away.  Kathy, thank you for being such an inspiration, and for continuing to so graciously open your home and share it with us.

No sooner had we left the McGregor’s than the weather turned to what I can only describe as awful.  Headwinds hard out of the north which slowed our pace at times to only 8 or 9 mph.  Road signs were bent over in the wind, the temperature was falling, and then to add to the fun, the rain started.  My daughters Megan and Heidi, and Heidi’s children William and Hailey, met us in Lehi to guide us through to Draper.  As we were making our way north, lightening started and we made a beeline for the first available building we could find.  It turned out to be a building which was still under construction and the front doors and windows had yet to be installed.  We waited for the most severe part of the storm to pass from inside this partially completed structure and, after about half an hour, continued our journey in a continuous downpour.

John Lauck was our navigator and had picked out the most safe and bike friendly route across the valley but it required numerous twists and turns.  The rain was incessant, to the point I told several of my companions I felt as though I was riding by Braille.  I simply couldn’t see in front of me.  As if the rain wasn’t challenging enough, a cold front moved through and I noticed when we stopped at traffic lights it was cold enough to steam our breath.  Oh, the love just continued!  Cold is one of those things with which we cannot control how our bodies deal with it.  We were all soaked to the bone and I saw Alison just shivering uncontrollably.  Not a thing in the world she could do about it other than get into one of the vehicles following us and get her core temperature warmed-up before she got hypothermic.  I noticed the tandem pass by me with the stoker’s seat empty but it wasn’t more than a couple of miles before Alison was back in the saddle.

At 6:30 in the evening we finally made our way up the final climb to Huntsman Cancer Institute for an emotional homecoming and reception.  And Seth had brought my peanut butter cup Blizzard from DQ!

I began this final edition of the blog from this year’s ride with a comment about adversity and need to come back to the topic and include integrity.  You see, conditions today were horrible.  And that word doesn’t even come close to describing it.  Think of the thing you find the most painful and hate doing the most, and then imagine doing it for 10 hours straight simply because you said you would.  If you quit, no one would notice or even care, but you keep going because you made a commitment.  That’s what our entire group did today; every single person.  In Lehi, when the wind was blowing mercilessly, I gave everyone a chance to bail-out and go home no questions asked.  Not a soul left.  I did the same thing again as we crossed the Salt Lake valley with the same result.  We encountered adversity today in spades, but integrity was the order of the day.  Coleman, Mike, Taylor, Don, Larry, the core-group who started with me in Reno; Russ, John, Alison, Allan, Linda, Mike, Loren, and Todd from my Bountiful Mazda Cycling Club; and Mike’s friends from Utah County; all are people of honor and integrity.  As we were rolling through the Salt Lake valley, someone behind me from Bountiful Mazda shouted out, “we’re only doing this because it’s a labor of love!”  It was meant at a joke, because conditions were so deplorable, but it brought tears to my eyes as I realized we were all doing this for the same reason.  To quote Jon Huntsman, Jr., ” It is the goal of Huntsman Cancer Institute to become a symbol of hope and optimism.  We want those carrying the heavy burden of cancer to feel strengthened and hopeful.”  And that’s why we’ve allowed ourselves to suffer this past week as we have and why we’ve suffered even more today.  And, to raise money to find those better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer.

This year’s ride is over.  Done.  Completed.  Finished.  History.  If you haven’t yet made a contribution to HCI, please see the “How to Contribute” tab on this website and make a generous donation.  The cause is worthy and honorable and the need without question.

Many thanks for tuning in.  My brother, Derek, suggested we keep the site current and updated throughout the year, so that’s my goal.  Please check back from time-to-time to see what’s happening as we prepare for the 2010 Ride From Reno.  Hopefully by then I’ll be thawed out.

All my best,

Jeff