PMC 2015 - A Long Journey

Preparation

The approach to the 2015 Pan Mass Challenge was a complicated one for me. Several factors, both within and outside of my control, had a major impact on my training and resolve regarding my participation in the Pan Mass Challenge this year.

While I usually ride and train year round, the long, cold winter really sapped my motivation. I was not inclined to ride on the trainer as much as I should have during those bleak weeks. I made excuses, justified my lack of indoor activity and, when the snow was finally off the ground in April and it was safe to ride outside, I was traveling so much for work that I found it difficult to take the time to ride and train properly.  I knew it was all just a cop out, but I was not able to climb out of that hole.

Then April came around and we learned that Debbie, a wonderful family friend and the God -Mother to my daughter, had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer for which there was no cure. Debbie and her husband Gary were told that the best they could hope for was that treatment would give her more time. This news was a tremendous shock and, once again, made me realize how vulnerable we all are and how awfully insidious this disease is. It can take anyone, at any time regardless of who you are or how healthy you are. Talking with Debbie and Gary and watching how they dealt with her illness with strength and grace was a motivating experience for me. Now I just needed to get onto the bike and train.

Concerned about my lack of conditioning and training finally led me to seek out and hire a coach in May to help whip my rear end into shape. This plan worked well and Scott, who also works at the shop where I bought my bike, was patient but a task master in helping me to get to where I needed to be. We rode most Friday mornings, sometimes doing sprint intervals, sometimes hill work but always working to improve my strength, pace, breathing and endurance. I could feel my old confidence and fitness coming back and started to feel on track for the first week in August and PMC 2015. Then in the few weeks before the event, I got a double whammy.

It was a Sunday afternoon at the end of June and I had just returned from a training ride when we got a call from Gary, Debbie’s husband letting us know that her condition was deteriorating rapidly. They did not expect her to last much longer. We sent love and prayers to her, Gary and their whole family but it was less than 24 hours later that Gary called again to let us know that Debbie had passed. It was a punch in the gut. The loss of such a vibrant, caring and funny person was hard to take. Later that week, Gary and his family held an amazing memorial service, followed by a gathering at their home that allowed us all to celebrate Debbie’s life and share fond memories of her. It was a silver lining to a deep, dark cloud.

I redoubled my resolve for a successful PMC in Debbie’s honor and counted on her being with me on the route. I was starting to feel more confident about the event. That is until the Friday, two weeks before the PMC weekend, when I fell while just starting out on a training ride.

It was a stupid accident and I made a rookie mistake that led to me landing on my shoulder, knocking the wind out me. Initially, I thought I might have injured my wrist and shoulder but, after a few minutes of recovery, I felt good enough to hop back on the bike and head off for a session with Scott. It was clear, though, after twenty miles at a moderate pace, that I needed to get home and calm down. Over the next two days my symptoms became worse and worse and I knew that I had done more than pull a couple of muscles. I had planned a long ride on that Sunday and even had the bike and my kit all ready to go when I agreed with Gail that a trip to the Emergency Room was a better course of action. The initial diagnosis, after exam and X-rays, was a fractured 6^th rib on my right side. While at the ER, I told the attending Doctor that I planned to ride in the PMC two weeks later. She just laughed. I did not.

Pain meds and rest helped but I was very uncomfortable, even with the strong medication. A follow-up exam three days later confirmed that it was more likely that at least two ribs had been affected (one in two places) and I had incurred some muscular damage as well. When I thought  about PMC weekend being less than ten days away, I started to panic. How could I continue to train without posing significant risk of more injury by going out on the road? But then I remembered my training stand. I could ride indoors with almost no risk of falling and without having to lean over the bars and stretch in places that did not want to be stretched.

My new plan worked and I found that spending time in the saddle on the trainer and getting the blood flowing helped with pain management as well. Less discomfort led to being brave enough to get back out on the road and, over the next week I was able to advance my recovery significantly. Three days prior to PMC weekend I did a 40 mile ride in 95 degree weather and really felt ok. I might actually be able to do it.

My plan for PMC 2015 was to ride once again with my very good friends and team mates from “The Apostles of Rule Five” with whom I have ridden on many occasions over several years including the past five Pan Mass Challenge rides. These folks are truly wonderful people and excellent riders. They are kind, generous, caring, patient and dedicated people and I am proud to call them friends and lucky to ride with them whenever I can.  I was looking forward to our time together over the two days and many miles.

PMC weekend commences on Friday afternoon at about 3pm when the riders can go to the site that is the start of their respective routes and pick up registration packets containing our wrist bands, PMC jerseys and other PMC related goodies. It turned out that there were only six “Apostles” who would ride the Sturbridge to Provincetown route this year and we agreed to meet at the registration facilities to get our stuff, connect and have a pre-ride beer.

Gail and I were pleased that, this year, my five fellow Sturbridge riders had agreed to stay with us in Holliston rather than a hotel closer to the start of the PMC as they had done in the past. The logistics of having everyone together was simpler and gave us confidence in knowing that we would not have to search for each other in the dark and crowded parking lot at the Sturbridge Host Hotel. After we all connected and had a beverage at the PMC start location in Sturbridge, we piled into two cars and headed to Holliston leaving our bicycles corralled with more than 2,000 other bikes so they would be there and ready in the early morning hours of Saturday, August first.

We arrived back in Holliston, unloaded gear for those staying overnight and were greeted by Gail, Meg and Alan, Meg’s husband, who had prepared a carbohydrate loaded feast for us. We had invited Gary, Debbie’s husband, over for the evening as he had no real experience with the PMC and we thought that, being able to meet some other riders and watch the opening ceremonies on TV with us (broadcast live from the hotel in Sturbridge on a major television station) might give Gary a flavor of what the event was all about and what the Pan Mass Challenge and Dana Farber can do to help fight cancer.

We were glad that Gary joined us and we all enjoyed a large meal of lasagna, bread, chicken wings, vegetables and salad and then sat down to watch the PMC ceremonies which were very moving and, for those of us who were riding, very motivational. After the conclusion of the ceremonies, we chatted laughed and enjoyed each other’s company but by 9:30 we were all ready to call it an evening. We set alarms for 3:30am and settled down to get what rest we could. Sleep did not come easy for me. How would I feel? Would my side be a problem? Was I really prepared? Too many silly questions ran through my head until about midnight when I finally dozed off.

The alarm rocketed me into awareness at 3:30am as planned. It felt like I had just closed my eyes but now the morning and a long day lay ahead. I swung into full gear making sure that my fellow riders were up and about, getting breakfast on the table (bagels, fruit, peanut butter and lots of coffee) and making sure the car was loaded with all that we would need for the weekend. By shortly after 4:00, we were in the cars and on the way. Alan and Meg had agreed to drive us back to Sturbridge and by the time we arrived just after 5am, the sky was already starting to lighten a bit. We grabbed our bikes, checked tire pressure, made sure we had food and supplies and then, after a beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, a few final remarks from Billy Starr (the founder of PMC) and a couple of photos, we were off for the start of day one. We all hoped that good weather and good luck would be with us for the next several hours and all 110 miles that lay ahead.

 

Saturday: Sturbridge to Bourne

There were over two thousand cyclists lined up at the start in Sturbridge at 5:30am on Saturday, August 1^st and when the countdown concluded with “…three, two, one, GO!” we all inched forward for what would be a 15 minute walk until we could cross the start line and actually be able to pedal forward. However, Neil, our team captain, noticed a few riders moving toward another exit from the parking lot and was able to quickly get our attention and get us on our bikes and we quietly slipped out and onto the road via a “back door”.  There is nothing that will kill an adrenaline rush faster than having to wait in a long line and I, personally, was glad to be able to get out on the road and move forward at a reasonable pace even if it was in a slightly unorthodox manner. We were moving.

I rode with the gang for a mile or so and then watched as most of my friends hooked onto a pace line of fast riders and they were gone. I was completely ok with this as it takes me a while to warm up the legs and get into my groove. Saturday was no exception. The first 3 miles were tougher than usual for me despite the fact that the weather was perfect (about 60 degrees: cool and clear) and we had launched well ahead of the huge mob so there was a lot of open space. I was working much harder than I usually do on that terrain and found myself thinking “Am I really going to be able to do 110 miles if I am having this much trouble in the first 4?” The first significant climb occurs at about mile 5, just after a shallow rise and a hard right turn. There is no way to build momentum so this is just a pure grind. I moved to a low gear and just pushed down one pedal stroke after another. When I got near the top and noticed that the apex was in sight, I thought “That could have been worse” and was a little relieved. Maybe I could do this.

I am sure I have mentioned in previous PMC narratives that the morning of the first day is magical. At the risk of being redundant, I will say it again. The air was fresh, the skies were brightening, the back country roads of eastern Massachusetts were calm and the quiet whir of hundreds of chains on gears and tires on roads all combined to create an atmosphere of peace and calm. We riders were focused and content to move ahead one mile at a time and when we passed the occasional supporter by the side of the road with a sign, or a cheer or just a quiet thank you, it was like wind at our backs. We passed large fields with grass swaying under a light breeze, we rode on tree lined streets where shadows dappled the pavement below us, we flew down hills and powered up climbs always mindful of cars, pedestrians and other riders as the distance ahead grew shorter and the miles racked up behind us.

It seemed like no time before I pulled into the first water stop at mile 24. The legs had come alive and I was feeling pretty good. There was no noticeable discomfort from my ribcage which made me very glad. (At the last minute before we launched, I had opted not to wear a compression shirt which would have held my ribs together as I was concerned about the heat.) I heard my name being called and discovered my teammate and friend George had gotten in just before me. We grabbed some food, filled up our bottles with water and Gatorade, then, back on the road again.

Although there are only 17 miles between the Whitinsville and Franklin water stop locations, it is probably the hilliest portion of the course. There are some long medium grade ascents where you just have to put your head down and grind it out as you slowly reach the summit but there are also some fairly steep grades that for ¼ or ½ mile you can either drop to a low gear and spin your way up saving your legs and lungs for later or you can get up out of the saddle and push hard to get over the top as quickly as possible. There are advantages to both of these approaches and you have to think strategically and be able to remember what lies ahead in order for each rider to make the right choice for himself or herself at that time.

Given the start to my day and the lingering anxiety I was still feeling about my capabilities, I opted for the former of these two approaches. This meant that I got passed by a number of people on a few of the ascents, but I bit my tongue and kept telling myself that it was better or me to get passed and be able to finish the day than to push too hard and burn out before 110 miles. Someone once told me “Youth has speed but age has wisdom.” That morning I felt very, very wise.

George and I managed to hang together for most of this leg and rolled into the second stop doing well. Once again we found the food, filled our bottles and rested briefly before heading back out.

As I have done in previous narratives, I want to explain what these water stops are like. Run exclusively by volunteers, the PMC water stops are a logistical marvel. Hundreds and hundreds of volunteers of all ages do everything  from make and serve peanut butter and jelly and fluffer-nutters (my personal favorite) sandwiches, cut and serve fresh fruit of all kinds, provide protein and snack bars, goo, gels and other nutrient rich supplements, fix and pour thousands of gallons of Gatorade, fill bottles with water, play loud and uplifting music (some DJs and some live bands……at 6:30 in the morning!!!) and all with a big smile and an encouraging word. Both at the water stops and on the road, there are mechanics who can fix a flat, true a wheel, change a bent derailleur, and do just about anything except ride the bike for you. All for free and, again, all with a smile.  Could the PMC be run without the volunteers? Sure but, in my opinion, it would be a far smaller operation since, without the tremendous support that the army of 3,500 volunteers provides, there would be far fewer riders, less funds raised and less hope for a cure.  Thanks to everyone who volunteers. You make a huge difference!

As I mentioned, George and I kept our stop short and within about 10 minutes were back on the road. The next point of interest was just a few miles down the road: Cherry Street in Wrentham. Cherry Street has become a treasured part of each rider’s journey. The history is that a large number of families that live on this mile long street have been affected, directly or indirectly, by cancer. As an acknowledgement of what PMC and Dana Farber do to fight this disease, the kind folks on Cherry Street go all out to show their support for the riders as we roll down this quiet New England lane.

This year was no exception. All of the hundreds of trees lining this quaint street had a red bow on the trunk. There were banners overhead welcoming us to Cherry St. and thanking the PMC and hundreds of people lining the sides of the road cheering us on. There was a steel drum band, a pipe and drum corp., a local resident in her seventies who dons a full clown suit each year just to cheer us on, lots of families with young children to give a “low-five” to and, this year, a special treat: As we were approaching the end of this winding lane, we started to hear cow bells. Not one or two, but a chorus of cowbells being rung with a fervor that seemed to grow as we grew closer. It was Gail, Gary, Meg and Alan by the side of the road beating these cowbells like the world would end if they did not.  (Gary is a professional percussionist and had a number of various sized cowbells.) The only thing louder than the clanging cowbells were the cheers of encouragement they offered to each rider who passed.  George and I approached this cacophony with big smiles, slowing and stopping to say thanks. The four musicians were all smiles and hugs for us but did not let us stay them from their duty. Even as we were chatting briefly with them, they would stop to clang the cowbells and cheer on each rider or group as they passed. George and I quickly realized that we were interrupting an important mission that Gail, Gary, Meg and Alan were fulfilling and got back in the saddle and on our way.

 

More miles through pastoral countryside were ahead and we picked up the tempo as we rode past working farms, through small villages and golf courses all coming to life on a quintessentially beautiful  Saturday morning in August.  Police officers in each town volunteer their time to man major intersections to keep the horde of riders safe. This is a much appreciated aspect to our safety that does not go unnoticed. I personally try to thank as many of these selfless civil servants as I can for giving up time with their families on a Saturday to stand guard over us. I hope they know how much their services are appreciated. We cruised down back roads and through more small towns as we headed beyond the 55 mile mark and the mid-point of our day.

As the miles rolled by, I started to realize that, once again, I was hungry. The next stop would be lunch in Dighton, MA. Lunch at 10:30 in the morning might seem a little strange but when you have been on the bike for 4.75 hours, a ham sandwich, some fruit, cookies and as much other nutrition as you want sounds awfully good.

There is a short, but steep climb just after the riders who started in Wellesley joined us. This always proves a bit of a bottle neck as the road suddenly has about 30% more riders and the intense climb creates a slow moving mass of cyclists trying to get to the top. Once there, the mob thins out a bit. I was able to take advantage of an opening and sprinted ahead.

The road into Dighton-Rehoboth Regional High School was lined with huge crowds of supporters yelling congratulations to various teams and individual riders. There were cancer survivors both young and old thanking us for riding and raising funds. There were high-school cheerleaders, men in fake grass skirts and entire families shouting their appreciation for us as we rolled past and into the back area of the school for shade under the tent, lunch and a little time off the bike.

I parked my Ridley in a spot away from other bikes (which was difficult given that there were about 2,500 bicycles in the area at any one time) and went off to see if I could find any of the rest of my team. I quickly ran into Neil (the fastest in our gang) who had been there a while, followed quickly by meeting up with John, Tony, Fran, Tommy, Caroline, George, Lynn, Alan, Dan and John M. We all shared stories, ate some nutritious, but not all that tasty, food and before long we were ready to head out to the next stop where we would meet one of the two folks our team was riding for this year.

As a PMC team, we have the option of associating with a “Pedal Partner”, a young person who is fighting cancer and for whom we can dedicate our collective efforts. Connections with Pedal Partners are facilitated via PMC staff who put the team in touch with their partner and then step back. Our team has had a number of Pedal Partners in the past and we are always happy to help lift the spirits of a child, their family or both as a function of this worthy cause.  Although many of us have folks that we ride for individually (e.g. I rode for Debbie this year) the idea of our team riding for a young person and, hopefully, showing them that there are a lot of folks in their corner always seems like a good idea. This year our team had two Pedal  Partners: Emma and Callie. You can learn more about them by visiting our team page at the PMC web site at http://www2.pmc.org/profile/TF0142. They are both remarkable young women and I, personally, was honored to ride for them and for their families. I know all my teammates felt the same.

From the lunch stop to the Pedal Partner stop in Lakeville was a short 17 miles. We launched as a group but were soon splintered by speed, crowds, traffic and other factors. I had recalled this segment as being fairly flat but there were some surprising and unexpected climbs that, at 80 plus miles in, did not seem so insignificant. I rode along, sometimes with a teammate or two, sometimes alone but always thinking about the mission and focusing on the road. Making sure that I could complete the ride was extremely important to me and, given what I had been able to get through so far and how I was feeling, I was very hopeful. Maintaining focus when you are tired becomes more of a task and even a short mental lapse when you are rolling along at 20mph can lead to a fall: not something that I wanted to experience again. Closing in on mile 90 and approaching the Lakeville stop, PMC volunteers had placed large pictures of the PMC Pedal Partners both current and historical. About every 30-40 feet, we would ride by another picture of a smiling child who had been helped by the PMC and Dana Farber. As we rode by these photos, I could not help but think about how this disease has affected the lives of these children and young adults and what courage they and their families show by dealing with cancer every day, day after day. I saw Callie’s photo and then, just before the turn into the stop, I saw Emma’s as well and a lump rose in my throat thinking about these two girls and what they have been through.

Unfortunately, Callie could not be there but Emma and her family could and our little band of cyclists met with them, chatting, singing, dancing and, eventually, having a team photo taken with Emma. Emma is quiet, reserved but radiates an inner strength that is obvious to anyone she meets. She has a bright smile and an adventurous spirit. I am glad that I have had the opportunity to meet her and see, in person, the grace that she displays despite her long ordeal. What a fantastic young woman.

After we said our goodbyes to Emma and her family, we all headed back onto the pavement preparing to go the last 20 miles of the day. This stretch of the course is pretty flat which made the going a little easier on our tired legs and sore rear-ends.

As a side note, if you are not a cyclist, take a look at the saddle on a good road bike and you will notice that it is skinny and hard. Then imagine spending 7 hours sitting on that skinny, hard thing. If you are a cyclist, you know what I am talking about. 

Even though there was only twenty miles left in the journey for this day, there was one additional water stop. It turned out it was a good thing that it was there.

A little before the last water stop, I was feeling hot: really hot. I had just decided that I would stop at the Wareham facility just to pour some water on my head and neck to cool me down a bit when one of my teammates rode up beside me.  I was a little surprised that Neil came from behind me as he is one of the fastest riders I know. We chatted for a minute and he let me know that he had had a fall and incurred some minor injuries. He agreed with me that a stop at Wareham would be a good idea. When we stopped and I saw the abrasions and the blood seeping down his leg, I was really glad we had stopped.

We found the med-tent and they cleaned his wounds, added some ointment and bandaged them as best as they could. I had some Tylenol with me which I shared with Neil to help prevent stiffness and ease any discomfort. He is such a trooper that he quickly reminded me that we needed to finish the day and, with a few more teammates in tow, we rolled on.

 

The Apostles have many traditions. Upholding  “Rule 5” being the greatest (I will leave it to you to research and figure that out if you do not already know what I am talking about) but also including watching out for each other,  honoring our sport and, of course, enjoying a post ride, malted recovery beverage. Going back at least 5 years, we have the tradition of stopping at a small bar in Onset, MA overlooking the water and only about 4 miles from the day-one finish at Mass Maritime Academy.  Getting to “the Narrows” is a true milestone and walking in to see this small restaurant/bar crowded with teammates and other PMC riders (also maintaining proper hydration) is a real blast. The proprietors are wonderful folks and treat us with great deference, perhaps because of the way we smell, and show us a real caring spirit. For example, when we arrived at the Narrows during the 2014 PMC, coming in from 57 degree temperature and driving rain, we were greeted with coffee, towels and even a warm blanket for one of our teammates who was experiencing hypothermia. Really good folks.

Leaving the Narrows is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because we are only 3 or 4 miles from the end of the day but a curse because we have to get the legs cranked up once more. These last miles are in a densely populated area with a significant traffic flow so we always have to be alert for “threats” whether they may be from cars and trucks, railroad tracks, pot holes or other pavement issues or other riders. However, the allure of being done for the day was strong and, as I rode along, I knew that in just a mile or two, I would be done. Sure enough, after making the final turn onto MMA Boulevard, I found Gail waiting for me, crossed the finish line and looked forward to some rest at the end of day one.

 

Sunday: Bourne to Provincetown

I was awake at 3:30am Sunday after a really good dinner with Gail, an early bed time (I had not been to bed before the sun was down in a very long time) and a reasonable good night’s sleep. Ready to go by a little after 4am, Gail drove me back to Mass Maritime Academy in Bourne for the start of PMC day two. I double checked to make sure that I had everything I needed for another long ride including, this year, my helmet (see last year’s blog post for an explanation) and after a final check and a kiss goodbye, I was off to find my riding buddies and get out on the road.

We finally were on the road just after sunrise. One of the first issues with which we all had to deal was the trip over the Bourne Bridge. This is a long climb at about a 7% grade within the first two miles of the day but the worst part is that the route gets clogged with riders who are not ready for this climb and either go really slow or get off their bikes to walk up the hill until they get to the apex of the bridge. It seemed to take a very long time and was a test of my patience to get over the bridge and onto the Cape Cod Canal Path. Once on the path, all was forgiven and forgotten. The pathway is about 12 feet wide and very flat with a beautiful view of the canal and the early morning sun in the east. Riders could find their pace and move along accordingly; faster riders on the left and more relaxed riders to the right. Two of my teammates and I found our pace together and cruised along at about 20mph for most of the path. A nice way to start the day.

Once off the canal path, there is a series of back roads through Sandwich which lead to a long shallow climb that goes beneath Rte 6 and then makes a 90 degree left hand turn into a much more formidable climb for about a half of a mile. If you are not fully warmed up at that point, this hill will get your attention.   

Once over the top, however, we were on the “Service Road” which is a seven or eight mile stretch of rolling hills which are a tremendous amount of fun. The climbs can be tough but the down hills allow a rider to build momentum and use that force to carry them up the next incline. Then repeat, repeat, repeat. It is a little like riding a roller coaster (but a lot more work) and makes the miles fly by. And fly we did.

After the rollers on the Service Road, we come out onto Rte 6A which is one of the major secondary roads on the Cape. Lots of folks were out to cheer us on and the crisp, clean air, bright sunshine and warm weather all kept our spirits high as we rolled into the first water stop of the day in Barnstable center with 25 miles behind us.

The usual drill ensued: grab some food, hit the bathrooms, fill the bottles, send a text or email and have a quick chat. Then it was back out on the road for the next 17 miles and the stop at Nickerson State Park.

This section of Cape Cod is pretty flat so we were able to pick up the pace even a bit more although there were sections when we were riding on Rte 6A and cars and other cyclists combined to create a log jam that was unfortunate. I am baffled sometimes when I see two or three cyclists riding abreast and taking up a whole lane of a road, seemingly oblivious to the motor vehicles behind them. These folks are a danger to themselves and, potentially, others as well. Bicycle riders are known to tell car drivers to share the road but that statement goes both ways. Riders need to be mindful of and share the road with cars as well. Some folks seem to forget that, in an altercation between a car and a bike, the bike tends to lose.

About 2 miles before the second water stop of the day, we pass a long stretch of open field fronted by a four foot tall boxwood hedge. This is the home campus of Cape Cod Sea Camps and, on PMC Sunday, all the campers and staff, hundreds of them, line the back side of “da Hedge” and cheer, ring cowbells, hold signs and do all they can to support the PMC riders. This is a famous site for those of us on bikes and many, including my teammates and me, stop to get photos taken with the hordes of smiling, screaming teenagers. They are so full of energy that it really helps boost our spirits yet again and makes the last couple of miles before our break some of the easiest we log that weekend.

We rolled into the parking lot at Nickerson State Park in Brewster about half way done for the day. The music was loud, towels soaked in ice water were offered to us and knowing that we were closing in on the end of this journey, we all laughed, danced and enjoyed each other’s company and the day. One of the truly bright spots at Nickerson is a young man who wanders through the crowd wearing a big smile and carrying a cardboard sign. The sign says “thanks to you, I am a survivor for ___ years.” The remarkable thing is that he has crossed out the numbers 1,2,3 etc. until, this year, it said 13 years.  I always look for this young man and am always glad to see his smiling face and his sign as an affirmation of his continued good health. I am grateful for his thanks and support and hope he has a long and happy life.

After departing Nickerson, we ride for a while on the Cape Cod Rail Trail, a converted railroad bed that is well paved, level and a great spot for getting a pace line together and increasing our speed and efficiency. We merrily rolled along at a fast clip and picked up some other riders who wanted to join the fun. At one point, we had 10 riders in our line, each rider taking the lead or “pulling” for about a mile and then rotating to the back of the line. The benefit of a pace line is that, except for the leader, all riders are drafting in the slipstream of the rider in front of them. Drafting can improve efficiency by 30% or more and, by limiting the lead rider’s pulling time to one mile, no rider is overly taxed. Riders have to communicate effectively with each other to make sure the line stays together and it is the responsibility of the leader to warn of any road hazards and let other riders know that we will be passing them by saying a riders three favorite words “on your left”.

We cranked along, enjoying the warm morning air and the scenery along the rail trail. When we left the trail, we headed toward the shore and a long climb to the top of a sandy, beach side road. The views were wonderful and despite the work, it actually was a series of three hills, one after the other, we knew that we were getting closer to the end of the ride. We left the shore road and headed inland through some more rolling hills, once again, using the momentum gained on the down hills to help carry us up the other side. Seemingly before we knew it, we made a right turn, up a slight hill and into the last water stop of the day.

As I walked around, getting refueled and chatting with friends and fellow riders, I started to experience something of a bittersweet feeling. I knew that we were only about 20 miles from the finish and accomplishing another milestone goal but I also realized that all the work that goes into preparing for the PMC and the ride itself would come to an end and, with it, the excitement, anticipation, adrenaline and being a part of a massive effort would all end as well. Sort of like when a musician spends weeks preparing for a concert and then, when it is over, the performer is left with a void; sort of “what’s next?”  However, I learned many years ago that the PMC is not a single event, it is a year round need, a continuous effort that takes on many forms and when PMC 2015 is really wrapped up for me in November, it is only a month or two before registration for 2016 opens and we start all over again. Training goes on year round regardless.

We gathered for a team photo and then it was back out onto the road for the last segment. The day continued to be crystal clear and we passed marshes, ponds and roads that could not be more perfect for cyclists. There is a series of hills on the north side of Truro that I only vaguely remembered before getting to them. But, as I climbed, feeling tired and looking forward to arriving in Provincetown, I remembered feeling the same way last year and the year before that. Tough going after a long day but there was no way around it. We turned onto Rte 6 again and faced another series of long hills up a moderate grade before cresting the last one and looking down the long, straight neck to where Provincetown lay in the distance. Fighting a stiff headwind, we made our way forward until we finally reached the large, faded sign that read “Welcome to Provincetown” where we stopped to wait for the rest of our gang to catch up and take our annual team photo in front of that welcoming marker.

From there, it was just a couple of miles to the split where riders have the option of turning right and heading off into the “dunes” for three more hills, five more miles and then the finish, or going straight for a more direct ending to the ride. My friend John does not like to do the dunes and usually goes straight while I usually take the route with extra miles. However, I had an idea.

Both John and I started our involvement with PMC six years earlier when our friend Brett was diagnosed with brain cancer. Brett’s treatment has been successful to date but is closely monitored and will always have the specter of cancer lurking in the background. I suggested to John that we ride into the finish together this year so that Gail could get a photo of us finishing our PMC journey this year in honor of  Brett once more. I sacrificed the extra miles and John and I rode to the finish together to cheers from the crowds and a big welcoming smile from Gail. Photos were taken, we checked in with the PMC officials and the ride was over for another year.

 

Epilogue

Gail and I stayed in Provincetown for an extra couple of days as we usually do. I took some time to reflect on the experience and what it meant to me. Despite the physical and emotional challenges I faced this year, I was pleased with my performance and really happy that I had dedicated the ride to Debbie. She really was with me through the tough sections and the easier ones. I am also really grateful that I have such good friends and riding companions with whom I was able to share this weekend. It makes a huge difference having folks to talk to and share a joke with as we roll along and who will offer encouragement when times get tough.

The PMC is an important organization and plays a crucial role in funding the fight against cancer but it really goes well beyond that goal. Sure the Pan Mass Challenge raises awareness of the need for better treatment, ground breaking research, improved support for families who have a loved one affected by cancer and many other aspects of direct and indirect assistance in this fight. But the PMC also brings together disparate groups of people who, without this common goal, might never have the privilege of knowing one another. PMC brings out kindness and generosity in folks and pushes aside negative energy and feelings. Yes, the challenges posed by participating in the PMC can be daunting: cycling 192 miles and raising a minimum of $4,500 in donations to do so is not easy but as founder, Billy Starr, has voiced on many occasions, “Commit. You’ll figure it out”

I am committed.

 

 Oh, one last note. I felt a little guilty about not riding the Provincetown “dunes” this year so, on Wednesday morning, I hopped on the bike, went back to the Welcome to Provincetown sign and finished my usual route through the dunes. No crowds were there to cheer me on but, when I was done, I could sense Debbie telling me that I was finally finished.  ‘Till next year.

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

Closure and New Beginnings

2013 was an unusual year for many reasons. There were many challenges to be faced both for me personally and for society in general. The anxiety and insecurity created by the marathon bombings was a big challenge here in Boston but the resolve to push beyond those emotions was uplifting. Watching friends face their own individual challenges was tough, especially when there was nothing I could do to help. Some have gotten a reprieve for at least a short time while others continue to be pushed to their limits. I wish I could help.

Personally, I am glad to have put my physical (and related emotional) challenges behind me and be back to doing something that I truly enjoy, riding. A new bike, a renewed commitment and lots of support from family and friends has helped me to get back in good shape, lose some weight and feel confident on the bike once more. Highlights of the Fall included rides to support Neurofibromatosis and Cystic Fibrosis and, a special treat, a trip to Lehigh Valley with good friends to do some serious cycling in November which really put me in good spirits. Long rides in challenging terrain were fun and sprinting around a track at official velodrome was a dream come true.

2013 started as a tough year but ended on an upbeat note. Cross training with running (ugh) to augment my cycling has really helped with the cardio. Fulfilling a personal pledges to ride outside at least once each month year round and running my first 10k have set me up well for this new year.

I started the year off right by doing a ride with my favorite group of cycling cohorts from the south shore with a New Year's Day ride in 26 degree temperature. It was a cold ride but a couple of recovery beverages afterword and time with wonderful people made it work the trek.

I have also renewed my commitment to the Pan Mass Challenge and signed up for the Sturbridge to Provincetown route again this year. I do not know yet whether I will try to more than the planned 200 miles but the need is as great as ever so, who knows.

What I do know is that I will try. Try to do my best, try to be better, faster, stronger than have been. To set challenging expectations for myself and to exceed them if I can. The motivation is strong but, as I have learned, I will take it one day at a time.

One mile at a time.

PMC 2013 and Self Awareness

I have not written a post for a long time. No good reason except that I have not been able to ride so posting on a cycling blog seemed pointless.

The end of my 2012 cycling year was not pretty. My physical ailments continued and, despite my attempts to continue riding and recovering, by mid-January I had crashed and burned. I committed to ride the Pan Mass Challenge just after the 1st of the year with the best of intentions and a hopeful heart, but my abilities diminished exponentially. My new Dr., head of a surgical unit at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston, tried a few treatments and then scheduled another surgery for mid April. Through February and March, I was not able to do much more than the minimum physically. Thank goodness, I was able to work from home (my employer was incredibly supportive) and I would have gone crazy if not for the love and support of Gail, Alex and Meg throughout my illness. By April I was ready for the procedure and the healing process which would allow me to return to my old self.

Then three days before my surgery the Boston Marathon was bombed. I felt like an incredible wuss.
There I was, whining about my personal pain while others were recovering from an incredible act of cowardice and terrorism and suffering untenable injuries. Guilt was strong that week.

I had the surgery (locked down in the Hospital while the Tsarnaev brothers were hunted and caught) and soon was at home recovering. By May, I was feeling better and was anxious to get back in the saddle. My surgeon had other ideas and advised that it would be at least mid Summer before I could ride. At a follow-up visit, that changed to late Summer and when I asked if I would be able to ride the Pan Mass Challenge, his response was an emphatic "No".  Despite my longing to ride, he was looking out for my best interests and long term health. He told me that, even if I was recovered enough to ride by August, I could not train enough to participate in the PMC. My hopes were dashed.

Then, I got over myself.

One day, while appreciating the tremendous volume of donations people had made to support my PMC effort, it dawned on me that this was not about me and my ride, it was and is about all the people that Dana Farber Cancer Institute and the Pan Mass Challenge helps. Whether I was able to ride did not matter. What matters is the kindness of all those who make contributions in support of the PMC and the good works that DFCI does year in and year out.

On August 3rd and 4th, Gail and I watched and cheered for the PMC riders as they endured the physical challenges of 192 miles in two days. Many friends including John, Laurie, Darlene, Tony, Fran, Lynn, Allan, John and many others were on the route giving their energy and efforts to help beat this awful disease. We cheered, rang a cowbell and tried to show our appreciation for all their efforts. I wished that I was riding with them but watching afforded me a different perspective on the ride and the cause for which they rode. It was wonderful.

I truly hope that I will have more chances to ride in the Pan Mass Challenge. But, if I can't, thousands of other riders will carry the torch and continue to raise funds for cancer research and treatment. PMC is an amazing organization which supports an extraordinary cause. PMC will continue until the only people who need it are cancer survivors.

This past year, I was humbled by my inability and yet reinvigorated by the realization that I have been and, hopefully, will be part of a cause much bigger than any individual, including me.

I now have started riding again. Short distances initially but I am hopeful that I will be back to longer rides soon. No matter what, I will continue to support the PMC and cancer research/treatment.

That is what really matters.

2012 Ends and 2013 Begins

Well I usually try to be upbeat about the year end and all the accomplishments that I have achieved, miles ridden, hills climbed, sprints, pacelines and overall positive philosophy but I take a different tone this year.

With the above as a caveat and preface, I will now go back to my more normal approach and talk about how the beginning and middle of the year were great, no beyond great. Spectacular.

I started the year with a strong base of more than 3,000 miles in 2011 and continued to follow and even increase that pace with hard training, better nutrition and a clear focus: Be a better rider, get to 4,000 miles, ride at least three century (100 mile) rides and ride more with my South Shore friends.

April through June were wonderful and I felt like I was on track to achieve all my goals. This was especially true in May when I discovered that my cyclometer had been calibrated incorrectly (yes, by me) and I was actually several hundred miles closer to my goal than I thought. I was also 10% faster than I thought. It was all good until the end of June when I started experiencing some health issues.

These health issues (lower intestinal) were painful but seemed to actually improve when I rode so I continued and even increased my pace and, as you can see from the post below, had an exceptional experience at the Pan Mass Challenge raising more funds than ever and riding really strongly with two very good friends and very strong riders.

Then the crap hit the fan.

Within the next few weeks, my symptoms increased and became increasingly painful. Visits to my Dr and then to a specialist yielded no positive results and I had to start cancelling rides. Then I had to start cancelling more and more until I not only wasn't riding, I was not able to do much of anything.
Surgery was scheduled, strong medication helped get me through the day and finally a procedure was performed to alleviate the pain and correct the issue. Long and short, it helped some but did not do what it was intended to do. Two week recovery turned into more than three months and, while some of the symptoms are gone, I still cannot be back in the saddle very much. VERY FRUSTRATING!!

I ended the year with just under 3,000 miles instead of 4,000 and cancelled all my group rides from Oct through Dec. I'll say it again. VERY FRUSTRATING!!

Now, in 2013, I am a little better but still not back. I am seeking additional help from the best Dr in this field in Boston and by Feb I will know what I need to do to move forward. I have decided that if he says that there is nothing that can be done, I will go back to Rule 5 from the Apostles and get over it.

Who knows what the year will bring but I will think positively, work hard and even do what I am told by the Dr. Yes, I will participate in the PMC again this year. That is my goal. I will do so because it is not about me, it is about fighting cancer.

So, sorry this is not more upbeat, but maybe it really is. In a weird way perhaps I am feeling the need to conquer adversity so that I can help others and, as a byproduct, be a stronger person, mentally if not physically.

2013 is another year of challenge. Just a different kind.

D

PMC 2012 Photos

250 Miles, 3 Days, One Goal

While the 2012 Pan Mass Challenge was this past weekend and was a very successful event, for me the ride this year started quite a while ago.

Earlier this year, two dear friends passed away. Jeanne was taken by pancreatic cancer after a long and valiant fight. Throughout her battle, Jeanne displayed unequaled grace, dignity and love for others until her body would no longer allow her to do so on this earth. She is physically gone, but I believe she lives on in all who were touched by her vibrant spirit.

The other loss was Gordon, a funny, charismatic, athletic man who was a loving husband and father and a great friend. Gordon was taken by heart failure and, although cancer was not his undoing, his passing was a tragedy for a man so active and full of life. Both Jeanne and Gordon are missed by me and by many.

The loss of both these wonderful friends struck me deeply. I had been planning on participating in the Pan Mass Challenge again this year, doing the same 190 mile / two day route as last year, however, this year I decided to honor Jeanne and Gordon by adding another day and 60 more miles to make an even 250 miles as my personal goal. I feel like these two wonderful friends deserved a special effort and this was something I was reasonably sure I could do. So my goal was to honor Jeanne and Gordon and to raise as much in donations as possible to help fund more advanced research, more efficient treatment and better support for all affected by cancer. In short, 250 miles, 3 days, one goal.

What follows is a narrative of my experience over these three long, tiring but above all exhilarating days. For those of you inclined to read further, I hope you enjoy. To all who supported my ride, I hope this gives you insight into my experience as a participant in the PMC.


Preparation

The preparation for me personally started shortly after the event last year. I continued to ride and train through the fall, winter and spring months, sometimes as often as every day but usually three or four times a week. The miles added up and I came into the summer feeling pretty good. The week before the 2012 PMC was spent taking care of my partner in this long ride. I cleaned, tuned and tweaked my trusty Lemond and put new tires, brake pads and bar tape on the reliable machine that, hopefully, would keep me moving forward and remain vertical over the long days ahead of me.


Day One: For Jeanne and Gordon

Up at 6am. A little nervous, but comfortable in knowing that I would ride a route that I had done many times before. Checked the tire pressure, ate a good breakfast and, at 7:30, off I went. The weather was cool but already pretty humid. The sky was blue and traffic was light as I rolled over familiar roads and kept my pace reasonably calm. At about eight miles into the 60 mile route, I thought of Jeanne as I passed by the beautiful scene of a mist covered reservoir with the sun light illuminating a stone pump house in the distance. I could feel her smile and knew she was with me. The miles seemed to fly by easily. I was stopped at a traffic light at about 20 miles when a burly landscaper pulled his pick-up truck next to me and gruffly asked "how far you ridin'" I told him "60 today, 110 tomorrow and 80 on Sunday". A big grin came over his face as he said "You're doing the Pan Mass Challenge! My boss has done that for 15 years. You guys are great. Have a great time." As I continued on my ride, my spirits were buoyed by the randomness of this stranger's good wishes. People really care and really support this cause. The rest of the first 32 miles went by without event and, as I stopped to eat some carbs and drink a lot of Gatorade, I noticed that the temperature had risen pretty sharply.

I was feeling warmer but the legs were responding as I pushed into the second leg of my journey for the day. By mile 40, I could really feel the heat. I was climbing a long grade and expending more effort than I should have when I envisioned Gordon's smiling face and heard him say in a tongue in cheek manner "Is that all you got?" My vision of his good natured challenge got me going and I was over the hill and back in high gear in no time. I got to mile 50 with my focus  and strength intact. I continued to enjoy the scenery but was also buoyed by the knowledge that I was headed back home and soon I rolled into my driveway, hot but happy. Day one and 63 miles, in honor of Jeanne and Gordon, was done. I cooled the muscles down and tried to relax in anticipation of the next two days.


Day Two:

After a restless night for me, Gail and I left the house at 4am for the 45 minute ride to Sturbridge. The sky was still dark but the air was damp and the parking lot already crowded when we arrived at the site of the official start of the 2012 PMC. Bikes and riders were everywhere. Volunteers had put out food for breakfast: fruit, bagels, muffins, coffee, juice, Gatorade granola bars, anything needed to keep the riders fueled for the first leg of the day. PMC founder, Billy Starr, announced that we would roll in fifteen minutes and added that, with an anticipated hot humid day, hydration was crucial.

This year, I rode as a member of Team Access, a group of good riders and good friends whom I have known for a couple of years. John, Tony, Neil, Tommy, Laurie, Dan, George and about a dozen more great folks were generous in inviting me to join them as a team member and I was honored to accept. Team Access rides for a number of cancer victims and the team leaders included Jeanne, Brett, and all the other friends and family for whom I ride as well. Team Access supplied riding jerseys (a very generous gift) for day two with the names of all for whom we were riding on the back. As I said, a great team, good friends and very strong riders.

Many of the Team Access riders had chosen other routes but John, George, Dan and Laurie were riding with me from Sturbridge to Bourne on day one. Gail took a team photo, wished us luck and said goodbye as we lined up on the starting line with 3,500 other riders. The Star Spangled Banner was sung and, with a cheer and shouts of support from well wishers lining the road, we launched at 5:30am!

It was mildly coordinated chaos trying to get thousands of adrenaline filled cyclists and their bicycles onto a two lane road. Patience goes a long way and, after a slow roll for the first half mile, the line of riders thinned out to allow us to get up to speed. It is hard for even a few folks to stay together in a large pack and, in no time, I was on my own, having lost sight of the others. There are a few significant climbs in the first 40 miles with the initial one in Charleton at about 5 miles into the route. It usually takes a while for my legs to warm up but when I got to the first climb, things seemed to be working well. I was very pleased that the 60 miles from Friday had not taxed me too much or at least it seemed that way at the time. Once that initial challenge was behind me, the roads leveled out a bit and I enjoyed the rolling country side.

Even at 6am, there were lots of supporters on the roadside. Signs thanking PMC riders, ringing cowbells and shouts of encouragement really helped to keep us motivated. We were grateful to all these kind folks who got up early to stand in the warm summer air to wish us well. The miles rolled by, the fields and forests shrouded in mist were beautiful and the sky brightened as we pedaled on. Boaters on lakes waived to us and we waived back. Riders chatted as we pushed ahead and it was not long before we were headed into the school at Whitinsville for our first stop of the day. I found John and George and we grabbed some food, filled our bottles and rested for a few moments before heading out again.

First e-mail to Gail of the day.

"Made it to Whitinsvle. Feeling good. Pretty warm. A bunch of smiling, sweaty riders. What a day!"


John, George and I found another couple of Team Access folks just as we were leaving. After a brief exchange of stories and good wishes, we were back on the road. The pack of riders had continued to string out and it was easier for us to keep together or at least reasonably close. The three of us are all of a comparable skill level so it was somewhat easy to stay together. I say somewhat because each cyclist has his/her own strengths and weaknesses. For instance, John is great at setting an aggressive pace on flat terrain and long climbs. I am better at using momentum to attack hills but can sustain a pace pretty well on whatever terrain. George seems able to do it all. PMC is a "ride not a race" as Gail likes to say but our little gang of three approached it as if it were the Tour de France and we worked hard to be fast but safe at the same time. As we put more and more miles behind us we stayed on high alert. Sometimes, more casual or inexperienced riders make unexpected moves, abrupt turns, slowing or stopping with little or no notice so it is important to always look ahead, maintain space and be ready to adjust at a moment's notice. There were a couple of more hills to climb in this short 17 mile segment. The sun had burned off the mist and when we came to our second stop of the day in Franklin, the temperature was already heading north of 85 at 8:30 in the morning.

"Here in Franklin. Getting warmer but we are cookin'. Still feeling good.
40 down. Most of the hills are over. Time to eat third breakfast.
Love ya'
D"

As we were getting ready to leave Franklin after more fluids and fluffer-nutters, John ran into another friend, Andy, who mentioned the hills in the next leg. I did not remember any so I dismissed his comments and George, John and I rolled out heading toward Cherry Street in Wrentham. Cherry St. is known for the great show of support almost all of the residents of this 1/4 mile tree lined road put on for PMC riders. Unfortunately, a high number of families residing on this lovely suburban road have been touched by cancer, most in a direct way. They know the value of research and treatment and are very grateful for the funds raised by PMC. They show their appreciation with seemingly hundreds of signs, whole families cheering by the roadside, bands, even a woman dressed as Uncle (or Aunt) Sam. It is raucous, energetic, wild and really uplifting. We passed through Cherry Street with big grins and shouts of thanks to these generous folks who were, I am sure, out for many hours on this hot day to cheer us on.

It turned out Andy was right. There were a number of climbs which I had conveniently forgotten in this 22 mile section of our trek. This did not make me happy but what can you do. Each hill, each mile, each pedal stroke put me closer to my goal so I persevered. Approximately 2 miles before we hit our next stop, the riders who started in Wellesley merged into our route. This influx of riders was nice to see but adding  hundreds of additional cyclists into a narrow road made us increase our focus all the more. No one wanted to go down this close to our lunch stop. We climbed a short, steep hill to the sounds of a lone bag-piper standing guard at the top. His reedy music was eerie yet motivating as if to tell us to keep working, there was still much to do. We arrived at Dighton-Rehoboth High School for a much needed break from sitting on a narrow saddle and much needed refreshments.

"Clawed our way to lunch. 70 miles done. The pace keeps picking up and we are happy

to be out on a sunny day having a good ride for a great cause. Will be back on the
road soon. 40 more and we can call it a day but the fight never ends.
Love ya'.

D"

At the lunch stop, as with all the stops, there are medical services, bike mechanics, lost and found, logistics services and, of course lots of food. Unlike previous stops, the food was in a very large tent with open sides and some tables and chairs for riders and volunteers to sit and rest for a while. Since it was after 11am, the sun was beating down and most of the riders wanted to get under the tent and into the shade to cool down. This made the tent very crowded and getting food was a test of patience and endurance. John, George and I did manage to find three chairs and were able to rest and eat. Dan joined us for a little while and before too long we were ready to head out for the next 18 mile leg which would take us to Lakeville.

The hills were finally behind us and we picked up the pace as we rolled down quiet streets. The terrain was starting to look more and more like Cape Cod with marshes, bogs, lakes and flat roads. We were still hanging together and prodding each other forward remembering to drink water and electrolytes often. Dehydration can set in in the form of dizziness and cramps and I wanted to avoid both at all costs. As we approached the school at Lakeville, PMC volunteers had posted large photos of young children who are fighting cancer and who have been sponsored by teams along the side of the road. The sight of these young faces is, I think, intended to harden our resolve to ride and help them in their fight. Believe me, it works. We pulled into Lakeville, hot, hungry but more motivated than ever.

I wanted to look for friends at the Lakeville stop but my need for water came first. I approached a portable rack of brass water spigots mounted on saw horses. They were only about two feet off the ground and a volunteer standing nearby must have noticed my apparent confusion. She approached me and asked compassionately, "Would you like me to pour some water on your head?" In any other context this would have been a rude or, at best, an odd question but, on this particular day, it was music to my ears. "Yes! Thank you!" was all I could voice as I bent over and soon felt the cool water cascading from the back to the front of my heated cranium. I am sure steam was visible as this wonderful young woman continued to pour until I raised my head to signal that she had dowsed me sufficiently. The torrent of cool water was so delightful that I wanted to make sure I left some for other equally overheated riders. Pushing the water and hair back out off my face, I wandered on and found cool slush, food and also found John and some of his relatives. We went further and discovered more friends and Team Access members who were volunteering on Saturday and riding another route on Sunday. Talk and relaxation took precious time but, after enough talk, hugs and best wishes, we finally got back on the road. I sent Gail a quick email that we were leaving Lakeville and she responded that she would meet me at the finish in Bourne.

The official route included one more water stop between Lakeville and Bourne but John, George and I decided to pass it by and continue on. The flat roads made the last 22 miles go by very quickly. We knew that we were near the end of our ride as we pulled into Wareham. We had one more tradition to uphold. There is a little restaurant/bar known as “The Narrows" that Team Access has, in the past, used as a brief "water stop" before riding the last 4 miles to the official end of the day at the Mass Maritime Academy in Bourne. Our quick stop included some carbs, vitamin D, Iron and other nutrients (also known as Guinness). In all, about 14 Team Access members pulled in and shared laughs and fellowship while cooling down. It was great! Unfortunately, we all knew that we still had a few miles to go so we downed our glasses in short order, mounted our bikes and hit the road once more.

The last couple of miles had lots of construction and congestion but I got through it and, when I made the final turn onto Academy Drive and the Maritime Academy finish line, I finally relaxed a bit.

There she was. Gail was waiting for me by the side of the road, smiling and cheering. I could not help but grin as wide a smile as is humanly possible. After a kiss from my wonderful, supportive wife and an official check-in with the PMC volunteers, I was done for the day. 112 miles had been added to my 63 from the previous day. I was tired but very pleased with my abilities and really glad that Gail was there to take me away. A great dinner and a good night's sleep at a comfortable inn awaited me before the trials of the third and final day.


Day Three:

At 4:30 Sunday morning, Gail drove me from the inn in Sandwich back to the Academy in Bourne for the start of my third day. A cooling swim in the pool at the inn, a great dinner at our favorite local restaurant on the Cape and a reasonable night's sleep had put me in good form, or so I hoped. I connected with John C., Laurie and John M. at Mass Maritime and, after a long, slow crawl toward the Bourne Bridge (the traffic circle had become a bottle neck), we were off. After the bridge was the Cape Cod Canal path, a beautiful stretch of paved pathway overlooking the water way. The sun had not yet burned off the mist but we saw boats, barges and fishermen as we pedaled our way at a quick clip down the path. Soon we were under the Sagamore Bridge and off the path. The flat Cape roads went by quickly and, seemingly in no time, we were in Sandwich, only yards from the inn where Gail had returned to grab a few more winks with breakfast to follow. We crossed under the highway and soon were on the first significant hill of the day. My least favorite hills are the ones with twists and turns that hide the apex. The good news for me was, although this hill fit that description, I had ridden it several times before so I knew what to expect. I crested it with no problem and that set me onto a series of several miles of rolling hills that fit my riding style beautifully. Long shallow down hills in which I could move into high gear and really get some speed going (up to 35 mph) were followed by equal up-hills in which I could use the momentum to carry me up the counter-slope. I was flying by other riders and feeling great. A hot-dog? Maybe, but I felt like an efficient rider using my energy stores to the best of my ability. The fact that I was leaving other riders in the dust was just a (delightful) byproduct. John was with me and we carried on in this powerful manner until we were soon in Barnstable and at the first stop of the day. It was now 7am and, even though the sun was not out, it was warm and we were pleased with our pace and effort.

"Just leaving first stop. Feeling fine. Not being a jerk so far."

 Gail had told me on the way to Bourne, "Don't push yourself too hard.". I knew that she had my best interests at heart (she always does) and didn't want to see me hit THE WALL and not be able to finish the last day. I had that in mind as we launched out of Barnstable. We had about 20 miles to the next stop at Nickerson State Park but it was a really great 20 miles. Hundreds, if not thousands of supporters were lining the route and cheering us on. Thank yous, signs stating "I'm a survivor thanks to you", more cow bells and smiling faces egged us on toward our goal. Even when rain started as we entered Brewster and we were suddenly soaked, our spirits stayed high. I found myself laughing as the rain pelted us thinking of the break from the heat and the big hearts of our supporters at the side of the road who were also getting soaked. We were all there for one purpose: fighting cancer and we were glad to be there rain or not.

 "Made it to Nickerson. Very wet but cool. Making good time.

Love ya'
D"

It was a short stop, we did not need much in terms of food or liquid, and, having found George, we headed out onto the Cape Cod Rail Trail and resumed our journey. The rail trail is a very flat, very consistent surface and John, George and I resumed our pace line and really cranked up the speed. We cruised along at 23-25mph with minimal interruptions for most of the trail. When we ran out of trail and were routed back onto the roads in Orleans, we continued to keep the pace high. I thought about Gail's comment and considered how much energy I had left. I still felt good so, with my compatriots close by, I motored along.

I should mention that George has a son who has fought cancer successfully to date. I know he has a special interest in the PMC and the cause for which we ride. George is a good father, husband, person and rider. I respect him greatly.

We had cranked through the miles to the last stop in Wellfleet in really good form and exceptional spirits. We were getting tired and sore but, knowing that the finish in Provincetown was only 22 miles away, we were motivated to keep going. A strong sun burned through the clouds and we embraced the warmth as we climbed the short hill into the final stop. A brief rest, a last PB & J sandwich, some fruit and full water bottles and we were back on our wheels and headed to the finish.

"Made it to Wellfleet in very good time despite the rain. Sun is out and I smiling. Should be in Provincetown 11/30ish.

Rockin and Rollin to fight cancer.

What a day!!
Love
D"

We hit the Truro hills hard and climbed past supporters and other riders as we clicked through the 22 remaining miles. Soon we were off the back roads of Truro and on Route 6 heading down the home stretch towards P-Town. A State Trooper warned us that there had been several incidents involving bicycles and cars and cautioned us to stay as far to the right as we could. John, George and I obliged and kept a watchful eye for cars and other cyclists as well. We continued to ride at a pretty high rate of speed. I happened to be in the lead and tried to gauge how much energy I had left. I still felt strong but knew that I would have to make a choice whether to take the straight route to the finish or to take the longer route (5 more miles) and ride the "dunes", a series of tight, steep hills leading to the final flat mile and the finish line. This is what Gail was referring to: she did not want me to over-extend myself and run out of energy at the last minute. I was very aware of what she meant but also was aware of my personal goal: At the end of the ride, I wanted to have nothing left to give. A complete effort for this complete goal.

Yes, you guessed it. I made the right turn and did the extra miles and hills. I was comfortable that, although I was nearing my limit when I made the final turn and rode the last 200 yards to the finish, I had given all I had for this great cause. The crowd lining the street cheered me on to the finish line and I raised both arms and gave my own loud cheer back to them as thanks for what they and all the other supporters, volunteers and other riders had done as part of this fantastic community effort. I met Gail and, as we embraced, I was elated that I had successfully completed my journey. 250 miles were conquered. 3 days were behind me. Let's hope that the one goal will soon be achieved.

The Pan Mass Challenge is a fantastic event and I know that we will keep doing this until our efforts are no longer needed and cancer is beaten once and for all.
Thanks to everyone for the support. I am truly blessed.

Darryl