Pan Mass Challenge 2014 - On the Road Again

The following is a summary of my 2014 Pan Mass Challenge experience. Thanks to all who support me and this great cause and thanks for reading.

As I have done in past years, I signed up for the 2014 Pan Mass Challenge on the day registration for the event opened. I was very happy to be able to ride again, given the physical trials I had been through in the previous year, but my primary motivation this year was the battle against cancer that our family friend Mary Ann was enduring. She was fighting hard every day and I knew that I had to keep up my fight to raise funds so that, one day, this awful disease will be eradicated.

Throughout the long months of Winter and Spring, I was not motivated to ride much (indoors or out) and my training lagged. I was running as part of training for another event and that helped some but I was way behind my usual schedule. Way behind. It was not until April, when my son ran the Boston Marathon (his first long distance run) that I was motivated to get my act together. Alex had made the commitment to run Boston and, despite a new job and a grueling work schedule, he lived up to that commitment. I knew I had to do the same for Mary Ann and for many others.

From mid April, the weeks and days leading up to the 2014 PMC were filled with the usual assortment of training rides. However, I was convinced that it was not enough. Strangely though, I was not anxious or nervous as the start of PMC weekend on August 1st approached. It was not until I arrived in Sturbridge Mass on Friday afternoon to pick up my registration packet that I thought, “Oh crap, it's time!”

I was to ride once again with the group known as "The Apostles of Rule Five", a wonderful collection of men and women that are good riders and great friends with whom I had shared several training rides and lots of history. We met at registration, shared laughs, drinks, stories, more drinks and then they headed off to their hotel rooms and I headed home to try and rest before the early morning launch on Saturday and the 109 mile ride that was to be day one of the 2014 Pan Mass Challenge.

All week, the weather forecast for Saturday had been changing. It went from sunny and 77 degrees on Tuesday to 71 degrees and high probability of showers by Friday. As I tried to rest on Friday night, I was concerned about what the morning would hold for us in the pre-dawn hours on Saturday. Wide awake and out of bed by 3am (couldn't sleep any longer), I checked the forecast for the day on the computer. I saw a line of precipitation just about at Sturbridge. I knew that the PMC has never been cancelled, not once on 35 years, so I knew that we would ride regardless of the weather. Game on.

Saint that she is, Gail, once again, drove me out to Sturbridge at 4am where I found my friends amidst 2,800 other riders. The weather was cool and drizzling but not too bad. We slowly got ourselves organized including putting on rain gear, taking it off, putting it back on again, etc. and then, at 5:30am, after a rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, we were off. 

Day One:

It is hard to describe the excitement and exhilaration of passing through the starting gate of the PMC and knowing that you and all the other riders around you are there for a common purpose with a common goal: eliminating cancer.

A sense of community and commitment does not even begin to express the spirit of the riders and the climate of the start. The nervous chatter that abounds before we launch and in the first mile or so quickly fades to a calm silence as each person considers how many miles and hills lay ahead and how important the cause is for which we ride. The drizzle turned to light rain as the first few miles went by. Spirits were lifted by the kind folks who donned rain gear and stood, cheering, by the side of the road and spirits were dashed as more than one rider fell in the early miles due to slippery conditions. PMC support teams respond quickly but I can tell you that there is nothing scarier or more sobering than seeing someone hit the pavement or trying to deal with the resultant trauma. I think all of us realized that focus and caution were the watchwords of the day. 

The first 26 miles went by as easily as I could have hoped, given the circumstances. Down hills were taken at significantly slower speeds which meant that momentum was lost and uphill climbs were harder. Our little group had become separated during the first leg and the water stops were times to pull back together. However, flat tires and other mechanical issues kept us from regrouping at the first stop and so we rolled on, hopeful that all who were missing were ok. 

After approximately 17 more miles (including some hills which I had forgotten and was not happy to be reminded of) we hit the 2nd stop in Franklin, MA. By now the temperature had dropped. We were all wet and resigned to what we thought the day had in store for us. Little did we know what lay ahead.

Just a few miles from the Franklin stop is Cherry Street in Wrentham, MA, famous for the bands, clowns, decorations and well wishers lining the street. Here too, the weather had taken its toll. The mood was still very supportive and jubilant but far fewer people and those who were there were huddled under tents or in ponchos. Stalwart supporters and much appreciated. We rolled on.

Between Franklin and Dighton, there are 27 miles of narrow, tree lined streets, sharp turns and a few formidable hills. This year there were also puddles (hiding glass shards), slick tar, riders who were not used to wet weather and long rides adding elements of difficulty to the journey.  All these factors added drama to the ride in the form of many flat tires, falls and other issues that reminded us to pay attention to our job. 

There is a long climb a mile or two before the lunch stop that, in past years, has had a lone bag piper playing at the top. His strong, drone based tunes have always helped motivate us to climb with strength to the break which is close at hand. This year, the piper was absent (no doubt, due to the weather) which added to the feeling of isolation that each of us felt as, individually, we made that tough climb towards the next stop. Commitment was the idea that helped me and helped us all, I am sure. 

Lunch was a welcome break and allowed our group to reconnect.  Food, quiet laughs, reflection and a chance to dry a little allowed us to refresh our spirits as well as our bodies. When we left to head the next 17 miles to Lakeville it was with the knowledge that we would get to see our Pedal Partner, Evan Burbine and his family. 

Evan is a quiet boy who has been through a lot in his 9 short years. He has endured the diagnosis of cancer, prodding and poking with endless needles, many trips to Dana Farber, many rounds of chemo-therapy and the ups and downs that go with all these things. His family has dealt with his pain, his treatment and the possibilities of his illness with strength and grace and they greeted us in Lakeville with both these qualities. 

Evan smiled at us, bumped fists and allowed what must have seemed like an endless number of photographs with us. He wore the small cycling jersey we had made for him (to match our own kit) with pride. What a delightful young man, what a gracious family and what a motivating experience. We needed all this fortitude to face the next leg of our journey. 

Unbeknownst to us (and while we were spending time with Evan), the PMC staff was advising riders that the temperature was dropping, conditions deteriorating and they suggested that riders put their bikes in a PMC van and take a shuttle bus to Mass Maritime Academy, the stop at the end of day 1. Had we heard this, I do not think we would have done anything different than what we did. We launched on the final 24 miles of the day with resolute confidence. 

This is where the "what was I thinking" part comes in. 

Within the first 5 miles, conditions went from moderate to heavy rain.  When cycling, if you think or know it will rain, you put on a weather resistant jacket. This should keep you moderately dry and pretty warm. On this day, most of us had rain wear on but, within a mile or two of steady, heavy rain, the jackets were soaked through. The temperature dropped as well and soon, whether clad in rain gear or not, we were all drenched and chilled to the bone. 

Most riders, whether on the Tour de France or the Pan Mass Challenge, wear wrap-around sunglasses to prevent glare and avoid dust or other debris getting into their eyes. In driving rain, glasses can become an obstacle to vision and, in the face of the heavy precipitation, most PMC riders tucked their glasses into rear jersey pockets. For me, glasses are needed to see the road. However, driving rain provides the same problem to me that it does to other riders so my bifocals soon went into the jersey pocket as well and my brain went into high gear as I now had much less time and ability to assess any road impairment or other threat that I might encounter. It's hard to avoid what you cannot see. My brain hurt. 

Conditions continued to deteriorate and we encountered traffic hazards, flash flooding and monsoon-like downpours. We stopped several times and asked well-wishers huddled on porches or under tents if we could borrow a towel to wipe debris from our eyes. But soon after, it was back on the bikes with dark humor, perseverance and fortitude helping us through. Just one pedal stroke after another. Fighting the fight just like those for whom we rode. We later learned that we had endured the coldest sustained rain in the 35 year PMC history and that 60 riders had been treated for hypothermia. Thank goodness for small blessings that none of us succumbed to the cold and wet.

We made it through to Bourne, the endpoint of day one, and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Personal goals had been achieved, milestones crossed and 109 miles accomplished despite all obstacles in our way. If only it were that easy for those affected by cancer. 

Gail met me with a big smile, a kiss and dry clothes and whisked me off to the B&B where we were staying on Saturday night.  A good meal at our favorite restaurant on the Cape and a warm bath and I was done for the night. Time to sleep and get ready for Sunday

Day Two:

The alarm woke me at 3:45 on Sunday with a shock. Usually, I am awake well before the alarm goes off and am able to gather my thoughts and get my act together. Sunday, however, was a jolt and I scrambled to get up, get dressed and get out the door by 4am. 

Gail drove me back to Mass Maritime Academy and dropped me off at 4:30am. As I unloaded my bike, grabbed my food and other necessary items Gail asked "Are you sure you have everything?"  "Yes!" was my confident reply and she drove off.  About a minute later I thought, "Where's my helmet?"  

A strict rule of the PMC (and my own rule since my cycling related concussion) is: no helmet/ no ride. No exceptions. Period. 

I tried calling Gail to tell her to turn around but could not get through. I had forgotten that I had suggested that she turn off her phone to save her battery so there was no way I could get through. I literally ran from PMC support van to support van stating my case and pleading for someone to let me borrow a helmet so that I could ride. After 45 minutes of searching, a kind man in charge of one of the PMC vans handed me a helmet and said "Please return it to PMC headquarters when you are done." I thanked him profusely, readily agreed and ran to get food and Gatorade and meet my friends. Forty-five minutes late, thanks to me, (and amidst a stream of very colorful language from me) we departed Bourne and headed toward Provincetown. 

The first challenge of the day is to cross the Bourne Bridge in a lane 5' wide. It is a long slow climb and descent. No matter how strong or skilled you are (or think you are) we were all subject to the law of large numbers: many people/small space/ significant risk. 

After the bridge, we rode on the Cape Cod Canal path for several miles.  This is a flat road and a space for tired legs to get warmed up. We rode smoothly and increased speed as we followed the canal path and, eventually, crossed Rte 6A and climbed the long hill onto the service road that parallels Rte 6. This road is a 10 mile series of rolling hills that is a cyclists dream. You have to climb often but then get to roll down the back side only to climb again. Repeat, repeat, repeat for mile after mile. The only down side was the rain that kept us from using all the downhill momentum to its fullest. The climbs were harder and downhills less rewarding. But, on we went. The first stop of day two was in Barnstable at 24 miles. We regrouped, ate, laughed about my helmet ordeal and launched again. 

Except for me. 

I had an issue with my shoe that prevented me from being able to "clip in" or lock my shoe onto the pedal. By the time I resolved this issue (amidst more colorful language), my friends had been gone for more than 5 minutes. I had a lot of work to do to catch them. 

Before the beginning of the ride, I told myself that I would ride for pace (RPM) rather than speed. If I could keep my cadence to between 80 and 85 rpm, I would be good for both days. Now, knowing that I had time and distance to make up, I increased that to 90-95rpm and a bigger gear than I normally would have used.  Not fun but it yielded results. Through Barstable, Yarmouth and Dennis, hundreds of supporters lined the route to offer encouragement and cheer us on. Big signs were held up showing support for individual riders (“Thanks for Riding Mom” or “Go Elizabeth, Go”) or posters that highlighted the benefits of PMC (“My son is 5 thanks to you.”) were all along the route. The cheers, the clanging cowbells and the smiling faces in the light rain all helped us keep rolling toward our common goal.

There is a spot at the Cape Cod Sea Camps referred to as "Da Hedge", a 3' tall boxwood hedge behind which hundreds of campers gather to cheer PMC'ers on. I caught my friends at "Da Hedge" and amidst cheers and after a kind welcome for me, we rolled through the last couple of miles into the second stop of the day in Brewster. 

At Nickerson State Park, we refueled and regrouped. Before we got ready to go, I noticed a young man carrying a cardboard sign. The sign was simple but very moving. It read "I'm 6 because of you." but the six had been crossed out and replaced with a 7 which had also been crossed out and replaced with an 8 and so on until he reached his current age: 12. I was blown away. The fact that this kind, calm, smiling young man came out year after year to support and thank us was heartwarming. It is that sort of small gesture that reminds us that we need to keep doing this until there is no longer any need for us to do so.  When we left Brewster, it was with renewed energy and the knowledge that there were only 37 miles left to go. 

The next 18 miles included a long stretch on the Cape Cod Rail Trail, a converted section of former rail line which is now a 10' wide flat paved path used for walks, meandering bike rides and jogging. For some of us, however, it became a super highway. We formed a pace-line, a line of riders spaced about 6 inches one behind another and we cranked along at an average speed of close to 23mph (reaching as high as 28mph at some sections of the trail). The leader of the pace line sets the speed and does the hard work while the followers draft behind him/her and get the benefit of reduced air resistance and an easier ride. Then, after a mile or three, the leader drops to the back of the pack and the next rider in line assumes the leader’s responsibilities and so on and so on. Pace lines are great because they allow riders to maintain a speed consistently higher than most could ride when alone but they also require a lot of concentration. We cranked along the rail trail at a blistering speed and, when it was my turn to drop back after a session in the front, I discovered that we had picked up several other riders and our pace line now numbered more than a dozen. After a significant hill by the seaside (beautiful views but a long climb), we entered the rolling hills of Wellfleet. The road winds with ascending and descending grades through beautiful coastal forest and, if you use the momentum correctly, you can fly down the pavement. I love this type of riding. It makes you think ahead and use the gear ratios wisely to achieve maximum efficiency and speed. Not for the faint of heart but, when you know you are entering the last stages of a long event, you want to use all your skills and tactics to your advantage.

We pulled into the final rest stop at Wellfleet with high spirits. We had made excellent time, music was playing to keep the motivation high and we ate, drank, joked and enjoyed the cool air as we prepared for the final stretch to Provincetown and the finish a mere 24 miles away.

Leaving Wellfleet, the PMC route goes through the back roads of Truro before entering Rte 6 again and crossing the neck into Provincetown. While most of Cape Cod is essentially flat, there are some challenging hills in Truro that come one right after another. When you have ridden 160 miles in less than two days, these challenges are not as much fun as you would think. The folks lining the route on these hills clapped and cheered us on shouting, “You’re almost at the top!”. What they did not say was that there was another hill just ahead and we had not even started on that one.

The turn onto Rte 6 and the final approach to Provincetown is beautiful, but misleading. After a few miles, you can see the ocean and the outline of the tall Monument in the center of Provincetown in the distance. What is not readily obvious, though, is that the monument and the center of town are still 10 miles away. Three of us were still together at that point and we kept our mini-pace line going at a fast clip as we followed the straight line road towards our goal. Many fans, cancer survivors and supporters in general were still at the sides of the road cheering as we went past and there were even some cars full of well wishers which drove past honking and yelling their appreciation for us. On we went.

We stopped at the “Welcome to Provincetown” sign and waited for the rest of our gang to catch up. When we were all there, we asked a well wisher to take a photo of us by the sign as a remembrance of our journey and its imminent completion. Then, it was back on the bikes for the real final stretch.

I have mentioned the “Dunes” in previous recountings of the PMC journey but the story and the geography bear retelling. As you approach Provincetown Center, riders are given two options: either continue straight on Rte 6 and go directly to the finish or turn right and take the outer loop by the airport, towards Race Point and then curving back into town. There is never any hesitation in which course our gang will take. It is toward the “Dunes” that we turn and the additional 5 miles that are part of that choice. The composition of the outer Cape is sand and the elevation of these sand dunes rises and falls by hundreds of feet. The outer loop that we ride has three large hills which pose a real obstacle as, by that time, we are all exhausted. My friends and I view this terrain as our own unique challenge and dig deep to find the strength and fortitude to surmount these obstacles in good form. The toughest thing for me is remembering to count accurately so that, if I think I have done three (but really only done two) I am not surprised by the final and hardest climb of the set. On Sunday, I did count correctly and then, after cresting the final hill, it was just another mile to the finish. When I made the last turn and entered the 200 yard long coral to the finish, my heart soared.

There were hundreds of people, waving signs, cheering loudly, ringing cowbells and expressing their gratitude for the PMC and the riders who were about to cross the finish line at just under 200 miles. Gail was there (a shining beacon for me) and, after crossing the line, I gave her a big hug and kiss and reveled in the fact that I was done.

If only it were that easy for cancer patients.

I believe the Pan Mass Challenge is a vehicle. A vehicle for research, for treatment, for family help and for hope. If I can help keep that vehicle moving forward, I will do so for as long as I can.

For Mary Ann, the fight ended the day before I started this year’s PMC ride. I believe she was looking after me over the many miles of the ride. I know she was with me in my heart.

We will keep fighting until there are only survivors.

Darryl