I can’t thank Larry, Don, Taylor, and Mike enough for keeping up the blog each day and giving everyone their perspectives on the day’s activities and events. Their perspectives are always different because of differing abilities and experience in cycling and I find their entries wonderful as I read about the experiences I was honored to participate in with them, and read what they were really thinking as we went through those things.

I haven’t spent much space in my blog, alright, I haven’t spent any, writing about our cycling experiences. Because, from my perspective, this ride isn’t about cycling. It’s about people. In particular, people who have cancer, who have had cancer, and those who may be diagnosed with cancer at some future time. This ride is about raising money to help fund Huntsman Cancer Institute’s efforts to find better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer, thereby benefitting all those mentioned above.

But there are significant parallels between cancer, cancer treatment, and cycling. Probably most notable is all involve pain and perseverance. I’m certain you could understand that cancer/treatment involve pain, but cycling? We’re not talking about a slow pedal down to the corner market to pick-up a quart of milk. We’re talking about >120 miles a day out here on the Ride From Reno, spending 7+ hours in the saddle. We did it Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and we’ll get up Thursday morning and do it all over again. In the wind and bone-chilling rain. For you runners, could you imagine doing a marathon on Monday, again Tuesday, again Wednesday, again Thursday, and again Saturday? Of course not. But in essence, that’s what we’re doing and the only way to complete each day is to manage the pain.

Perseverance is another area where there are significant parallels between cancer and cycling and I witnessed that parallel first-hand this afternoon. Mike, Taylor, Don, and Larry all wrote about how difficult it was today but I don’t think any of them really did it justice. Not because they aren’t capable writers, but because unless you were here to see it for yourself, you’d probably never believe someone would, strictly out of the desire to alleviate suffering, allow themselves to be put through this. The only word that aptly describes today’s ride is: brutal.

Our final climb was Connor’s Pass, at 7,722’, and we did it in a pouring and driving rain with intense cold. Both Larry and Don reached the summit before me, and as I rolled to the top they were just getting into Judy’s car to get out of the weather. I wasn’t sure if they were calling it a day or not, but I knew we had to get about 10 miles beyond Majors Junction, or about 20 miles further than we were at that very moment. I took one look at them climbing into the car and headed down the backside of the pass. In an instant, I could see the parallel between cancer and what we were doing.

Once you hear those words, “I’m sorry to have to tell you that you have cancer,” your life is forever changed and you become an immediate expert in perseverance. You don’t want to do all the gruesome and unpleasant things required of you in treatment, but you soldier-on, preserving, because it’s the only way of taking your life back from the monster who has it in its’ jaws. You do another surgery, another session of chemo, another radiation treatment, persevering, in the hope life will return to normal.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes after I started down the backside of Connor’s Pass than Larry, Don, and Mike were also flying down in the pouring rain. It would have been easier to rack the bikes and call it a day but, in spite of the cold, the rain, the pain, and the fatigue, everyone persevered until our goal was reach. No compromises. Nothing done halfway. What a tribute to the character of each of my companions.

Yes, today was brutal. But we were the victors. Please join us in making a difference by donating to Huntsman Cancer Institute. Simply click the “How to Contribute” tab at the top of this page and follow the instructions.

Jeff

To my family: I love each of you and miss you terribly and can’t wait to hug all of you on Saturday! Don’t forget my peanut butter cup Blizzard! I felt punky on the bike today and could only attribute it to mismanagement of my nutrition. So, I ate well tonight and stopped by a local store in Ely and bought myself a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream! I used it to console myself! Hopefully I’ll be feeling strong tomorrow. I love you. Good night!

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