I guess I need to start today’s blog with a bit of “True Confessions.”  The Ride From Reno isn’t easy physically, or on a marriage.  Janet simply doesn’t want me doing this ride.  In spite of the great cause it’s supporting.  “Doesn’t want me doing this ride” is a gross understatement.  The closer to the ride date each year, the thicker the tension rises in our home until, a day or 2 before the ride begins, there’s a small nuclear explosion within my home.

Now I need to be clear why Janet doesn’t want me riding from Reno to Salt Lake City on open highways:  she loves me and doesn’t want to see me splattered across the front of a Kenworth.  She’s supported me on the ride for several years and has seen first-hand the boneheaded Neanderthals who drive their cars or trucks, at 80+ mph, as close to me as possible just to send a message that the road belongs to them (their vehicles) and not some skinny-tired bike.

So, when the alarm went off in our hotel room at Circus Circus at 4:30 this morning, I rolled out of bed and saw Josh sleeping peacefully in the bed next to ours.  Josh is our 25-year old son, who happens to have Down’s Syndrome.  He’s my best friend, and the most remarkable person on the face of the earth.  He wakes up in a new world, filled with possibilities, each day.  He’s happy with however much or little we do for him.  He’s never spoken an unkind word to or about anyone, has never had an unkind thought, nor has he ever judged anyone.  And we call him handicapped.  The rest of us should be so lucky.  And there he laid asleep, as was Janet.

My first thought upon seeing them looking so peaceful was, “what right do I have to go out and do this ride, putting myself in mortal danger?”  That was immediately followed with, “I have to do this ride to help insure they don’t ever have to suffer as I did.”  Cancer treatment, for me, was awful.  Barbaric and draconian.  The thought that Josh, or Janet, or any of my other children or my grandchildren, or even friends, would have to go through what I went through is almost more than I can stand.  And so I feel compelled to ride to raise funds for Huntsman Cancer Institute in the hope that they’ll find those better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer.  Quite honestly, I sometimes wonder if the effort is worth the price I pay.  I give up a minimum of a week’s vacation, and shell out approximately $2,000 for everything required logistically.  For what has become  a pretty consistent $7K to $8K in annual fund-raising.  Janet’s solution is for us to simply write a $2,000 check to HCI each year and be done with it.  Because she loves me and doesn’t want to see me hurt or worse.  And I love her even more each day because she cares so deeply for and about me.

But the Ride From Reno is about more than fund-raising.  Don’t get me wrong, send me your checks!!!  But, it’s also about focusing attention on the need that exists for better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer.  And there are no other voices out there calling for what is a critical need.  Everyone seems to be focused on delivering cures for cancer, but they’re years away.  Between now and when cures are finally discovered there will be people dying from cancer treatment and not cancer itself.  There will be people maimed, paralyzed, unable to work or carry on what the rest of us take for granted as ”normal lives.”  Why?  Because cancer treatment, in many cases, is still scorched-earth policy.  Part of  treatment, many times, is taking the patient to the brink of death in an effort to destroy the disease or extend life.  Totally unacceptable in my estimation.

And so I ride, asking for your hard-earned Benjamins, so that you, your family, or my family, no longer have to face such a prospect.  Let’s raise enough money so that HCI will be able to find those better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer and so I can quite doing this harrowing annual adventure.  And so Janet can have some peace.

Today was another day with the Neanderthals.  Boneheaded jackasses.  I grew-up in northern Nevada and know more kind, loving, gracious, hardworking people of integrity here than you could imagine.  But the jackasses were out in swarms today.  They’d have the entire road to themselves, both lanes of traffic with not another vehicle within miles, and do you think they’d move away from us by even a millimeter?  Heck no!  They’d purposely drive within inches of us, seemingly attempting to make some macabre point.  Jerks.

The highlight of the day for me was meeting Sheri, a friend of Bill and Suzette Benecke (Bill & Suzette graciously hosted us for a delicious lunch at their home in Fallon, Nevada).  Sheri is a beautiful and delightful woman, recently diagnosed with liver cancer.  Treatment to this point has been frustrating for her and her family, but having the opportunity to meet her face-to-face reinforced the purpose of the Ride From Reno.  It isn’t about me, my family, my friends, my companions on the ride, or anything other than people like Sheri.  It’s not about my ability to ride a bike >130 miles in a day.  Big deal.  Anyone could do it (I was going to say a trained monkey could do it but I don’t want to insult my riding companions!).  You get my point, I hope.  This ride is only about the Sheri’s of the world.  If I ever drone on on this blog about how I suffered during the day, or how I overcame some minor adversity, you have my permission to kick me in the groin.  This ride is only about _______ (insert the name of your friend, acquaintance, loved one, etc.) and nothing or no one else.

So, get out your checkbook (I do work for Harland Clarke, after all!), or your debit or credit card, and make a donation to HCI.  Do it for Sheri, for your mother, father, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, friend, neighbor or, perhaps more selfishly, for yourself.  When you, or someone in your family is diagnosed, you want the deck stacked in your favor!  Let’s find those better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer now!

And give Janet some peace.

Thanks for listening.

Jeff