It’s hard to believe another year has passed and the Ride From Reno is about to begin for the 8th time!  When this ride started in 2002, I had just completed my treatment for Stage IV squamous cell cancer.  For those of you who may not know, cancer is clinically “staged” to detail its level of severity (think how far its metastasized, spread to lymph nodes, etc.).  I was finally healthy again after what seemed to be an interminable battle with a foe I couldn’t even see.  But, and here’s the point, I was healthy once again.

I decided I wanted to do something that, for me, would be on an epic scale.  Something so brazen, and possibly stupid, it would take a huge effort to complete.  I came up with the idea for this ride and it just resonated with me.  Since Janet and I both grew-up in Reno, the ride, which for the first 3 or 4 years went from our home in Centerville, Utah to Reno, Nevada, would be a metaphor for going home after the barbaric and draconian experience of cancer.  When it started, this ride was about going home, wiping the slate clean, and starting anew.  As Billy Crystal called it in “City Slickers,” a “do-over”. 

It’s now morphed into much much more.  It’s no longer about me and my feeble attempt to rewind my life and forget about cancer.  In fact, forgetting cancer is impossible for me.  It’s everywhere I turn.  I can’t begin to describe how I feel when I hear about another friend, colleague, associate or, even someone I don’t know, whose just been diagnosed.  My heart sinks as I contemplate the path they’re about to begin walking.  I’ve been to that rodeo and have personal experience as to how much treatment sucks!  Clinically, treatment is referred to as surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy.  For me, that’s far too clinical.  Cancer and it’s treatment are personal on the most basic level possible.  So, I refer to treatment as slash, burn, and poison.  Which much more aptly describes the treatment process.

The Ride From Reno has now morphed into my effort to raise funds for Huntsman Cancer Institute (HCI) in Salt Lake City.  HCI is one of the top cancer research and treatment centers in the world and they’re hot on the trail of developing better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer and, ultimately, cures for the >150 types of the damnable disease.

We all hope and pray for cures.  But let me tell you about “better tolerated, less toxic.”  Many treatments for cancer take you to the brink of death in an effort to destroy the disease or extend life.  I was in terrific physical condition when I was diagnosed.  In fact, the day before my first cancer surgery I ran 10 miles.  In less than 6 weeks of treatment, I didn’t have the strength to walk from the parking lot at the University of Utah Hospital to my daily radiation treatments in their windowless dungeon (sorry, basement).  I couldn’t swallow without excruciating pain.  I completely lost my voice, couldn’t work, and had to sleep in a sitting position because my saliva had turned into a thick ropey, mucus-like substance that would suffocate me if I laid down.  The inside of my mouth, and my tongue in particular, looked as though someone had taken a coarse wood-rasp to it.  This should give you a peek into “better-tolerated.”

To add to the fun, I started a chemotherapy regimen of Cisplatin.  Now, I don’t have anything personal against Cisplatin.  Especially since it was a component of returning me to health.  But here’s where “less toxic” comes into play.  One of the potential side-effects of Cisplatin is that it could cause leukemia later in life.  And, before I started the drug, I was required to sign a release stating I knew I could get leukemia as a result of taking Cisplatin.  How’s that for a kick in the groin?  A drug that may save you today could kill you tomorrow?!?!?!  “Less toxic” is critically important to many of us.

So this ride really has become about the Benjamin’s.  It’s about raising money to support HCI’s efforts to find better tolerated, less toxic treatments for cancer and, ultimately, cures for the more than 150 types of this damnable disease.

I ask my family, friends, colleagues, associates, total strangers, virtually anyone with warm breath, to donate to The Ride From Reno.  Every penny raised goes directly to HCI and their mission.  All of us who do this ride pay our own expenses.  Everything.  I wish I could keep a little off the top for my “Hawaii Fund” but my conscience wouldn’t let me.  Relieving the suffering of others is simply to important.

So, beginning Monday, June 15th, there will be 5 of us setting out from the downtown arch in Reno (The Biggest Little City in the World) and riding 667 miles across Nevada and Utah (most of the ride on US Highway 50).  Victims, er riders, will be my brother Coleman, brother-in-law Mike Nelson and his 16-year old son, Taylor, and dear friends Larry Peterson and Don Leslie.  Supporting us on the road will be my dad, Jim, Larry’s wife, Judy, and my sweetheart Janet, and celestial son, Josh.  Without dad, Judy, Janet, and Josh, this ride simply couldn’t happen.  Before even turning the crank one revolution, let me say Thank You to each of you!

So, that’s it.  I’ve been told inquiring minds wanted to know, so that’s what’s behind the Ride from Reno.  I truly hope you’ll catch a bit of the vision of the ride and its’ purpose and visit the  How to Contribute page for details about making your donation to what is an honorable and necessary cause.

Please check back each day for updates on the latest and greatest.  Each day you’ll find a narrative of what’s happened and what we’ve experienced.  I would also request that you take a minute and visit the Guestbook and leave us your message of greeting and encouragement.  After long days in the saddle, one of the first things we do in the evenings (after showering!) is check the Guestbook.  Hearing from you really adds meaning to what we’re doing.

Thanks for taking an interest in what we’re doing and for checking in!  We’re hoping for a safe week with lots of tailwinds.  We’ll arrive at Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City on Saturday, June 20th, around 4 o’clock in the afternoon and, if you’re not doing anything semi-important, please come out to HCI and cheer us up the final hill.  And by the end of the ride, I’ll be needing a peanut-butter cup Blizzard from DQ.  So come say hi, and bring me a Blizzard!  :>)

Jeff