The Dempsey Challenge 2012: Riding for My Life
NOTE: I'm in the process of uploading hi-def videos. I will replace these standard def ones later, so check back later this week if you want to view the high quality ones.
It seems it's time for my 2012 Dempsey Challenge writeup! For those of you who don't know my story, I'll recap a little. This year was my third year participating in the Dempsey Challenge, and my reasons for going have certainly morphed over time.
The Dempsey Challenge 2012: Riding for My Life
I will come by this honestly. My first year at the Challenge, I went to see Patrick for the first time, and I went to meet several friends who I'd known online for years, but had never truly met, yet. That was all, and that's probably abundantly clear from my 2010 writeup. I wasn't in shape. The 10k walk did a number on me. I also wasn't personally connected with the cause. I was happy to get donations for the event in order to go, but that was all that was on my mind. The Challenge certainly didn't occupy a place in my heart at that time. It was just a fun thing to go to. However, being there in 2010 changed something for me.
Watching the cyclists arrive at the finish line amidst cheers and clapping and so much positive energy for hours inspired me. I leaned over to my friend Cat and said, “I'm going to do that next year.” I'm not sure she believed me at the time, but she was encouraging, and she questioned me about my plans. When I got home from the Challenge, I bought a bike within a week. It's a white and blue Specialized Ruby, and I'm proud to say that two years later, I have over two-thousand miles on it.
Less than a month after returning from the 2010 Challenge, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, which was itself caused by another chronic disease that I have to live with but don't care to discuss. I went through a very dark time in my life where, after all that was going wrong with my body, I became convinced that things would be easier if I died. I never made any concrete plans, but I thought about dying a lot, like how things would be easier if I was in a fatal car accident, or if I got sick enough to fall asleep and not wake up. That sort of thinking is what's known as passive suicide ideation. I feel for anybody who's living in that head space, and wouldn't wish that kind of despair on anybody.
During this time, though, I managed to keep working on my goal to participate in the 2011 Challenge 50 mile ride. It became my carrot on a stick when I really needed one. I lost weight. A lot of weight. 50 pounds, actually. I started becoming happier with how I looked. The endorphins from exercising so much really helped me with my mood, and things didn't seem so bleak anymore. In the space of six months, I went from having uncontrolled diabetes with suicide ideation to having asymptomatic diabetes and a love, if not yet for life, at least for getting out on my bike and seeing the world around me.
In 2011, I was able to complete my first ever 50 mile ride at the Challenge, exactly as I'd said I would do. The wonderful women who went to the 2010 challenge with me as fellow Patrick fans changed roles and put on their pom poms. They chased me all over the course to cheer me on. The community support for the event moved me to tears, and I even got a hug from Patrick in the process. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life to go from something so dark to something so light in the space of a year, and I credit all of that to the resounding kick in the ass that witnessing the 2010 Challenge gave me, and to the women I met while attending it. The 2010 Challenge got me moving. The 2011 Challenge is what married me to the cause and to the community it supports.
This year, I returned again to do the walk and the ride. I planned to do the 10k walk and the 50 mile ride. I wasn't expecting this year to top last year, given how many milestones and amazing things occurred in 2011, but that didn't dampen my enthusiasm. Because of my emphatic support for this event (I'm thrilled my 2011 write-up grabbed at a few hearts), I managed to convince a few of my friends to try the event this year, all of whom did the walk or run, and one of whom attempted the 50 mile ride with me. More on that later.
I did have one big thing on my bucket list for this year, and that was to see if I could get about twenty seconds to give Patrick a coherent thank you. Unfortunately, last year, when I got my hug, I was so discombobulated by the experience, that, while I did manage to say thank you, I think he thought I was talking about the picture I took with him, and not about the fact that this event means the world to me. I've regretted that I wasn't able to express myself clearly that day, and have been looking forward to a chance to tell him what I meant, because while pictures are nice and I was thankful for that part... it's not the same thing.
I flew into Boston late on Thursday. Someone had been watching Made of Honor on my flight in the row in front of me, which I thought was a funny coincidence. I arrived in Lewiston at about 2:00 AM on Friday morning with HBR. My best friend Erin arrived earlier in the day with her friend Kathleen, and Kathleen's friend Emilie (it's a friend domino!). Gladys was already there somewhere, too. Cat would be arriving in the morning. Tracey would be arriving in the afternoon. Isn't it amazing how much the crew has grown from the last time I wrote about the Challenge?
I had enough time to sleep a little before things got set on go, go, go, go, go for the weekend.
I got up at about 8:30, and everybody who was there already went to see the Peloton Project riders arrive in Lewiston. The Peloton Project is a marriage between the Cancervive Foundation of Alberta and the Dempsey Center for Cancer Hope & Healing. A group of cyclists rode from Calgary to Lewiston in ten days to produce a documentary meant to provide hope for those living with cancer. That's 2500 miles. In ten. Freaking. Days. On a pedal bike. Hats off to those amazing folks. Seriously.
Because it was so early on Friday, there was a crowd, but not a huge one. Patrick, who was there with his whole family to give a speech to the riders, was mostly ignored by the masses, which I'm sure was a nice change for him. Most times at this event, he can't walk anywhere without getting mobbed, and his security usually has to yank him along by his arm because he can't or won't say no to anybody who asks him for a picture or an autograph.
We stayed a respectable distance away, but he came right over to our group anyway to give Kathleen a big hug, and he chatted with us for a little bit, which was a pleasant surprise. I wanted to get my thank you in, then, since he was there, but unfortunately, I get really nervous about talking with people I don't know very well. I couldn't figure out how to interject a random thank you about last year into the conversation that was going on, which was mostly about where we were from and the cold weather. He moved on before I managed to untwist myself. I kicked myself for a little bit, but then the peloton arrived, and I forgot about that and got sucked into watching those amazing people finish their grueling ride, instead. Patrick gave his speech, along with others, and the cancer survivor of the year sang a beautiful rendition of both the US and Canadian national anthems. Sorry for the wind sounds in this video; it was unavoidable (and COLD).
Click to viewAfterward, we went back to the hotel to warm up for a little and meet Cat, who had just arrived. Then Erin, Emile, Kathleen, and I went to pick up our bikes with HBR graciously playing chauffeur. Emilie and Erin were beginners and we had a few issues along the way with toe clips and whatnot, but all-in-all, it was a lovely short ride back to the hotel, and it was nice to get a quick blast of beautiful scenery and a bit of exercise.
After that, we went to see the Dempsey Center at its open house. We got a tour around the facility once we arrived. The Center is amazing. They have the whole floor, so it's spacious. They have a kitchen, massage rooms, a children's room with toys and books, counseling rooms, conference rooms, a small library of cancer literature, and lots of office space. There was a quilt on the wall with dedications in each square. Sorry this one is a lot out of focus, but it was a pretty quilt, so I'll still share:
They even have an atrium with huge windows that is full of plants and flowers, and has a beautiful mural on the wall, so people can sit and relax and watch the view.
I think, if I were a cancer patient, I would appreciate the friendly atmosphere and the bright, cheery layout, and it was so nice to get to see where all the donations I've raised were going.
Later that night, we hit Gritty's for a bit, but it was mobbed. Kathleen, Erin, and Emilie chose to stay for a while. Tracey, Gladys, Cat, HBR, and I went to dinner at the Hilton, so we wouldn't have to go hoarse to have a coherent conversation. We had a lovely dinner, and it was nice to sit back, relax, and talk with friends about the MerDer of it all, among other things.
On Saturday morning, we gathered early by the Dempsey Challenge stage for the walk. We all planned to do the 10k walk, and we stood by the 10k walk sign, which was at the front like it usually was. It was cold, but it was a beautiful, sunny morning. Patrick spoke for a while. We heard from Mary and several other people. Somewhere along they way, they swapped the 10k sign with the 5k sign. This is the first time they've started the 5k before the 10k. I'm not sure why they did that. It seemed a little silly. We didn't want to block anybody or get run over, so most of us opted to switch and walk the 5k at the last minute, which was fine with me. I had had time to train for cycling this year, but due to some health problems, I hadn't done much walking lately, and I knew my level of fitness wasn't as high as it was last year.
Erin, Emilie, and Kathleen opted to run the 10k and somehow managed to worm their way back to the new starting location for the 10k. I opted to walk the 5k with Tracey. Gladys got lost in the crowd for a little bit. I'm still not entirely clear on what happened to Cat and HBR in the mess, but whatever happened, they said they had a lot of fun. We got the countdown to go, and we were off.
The walk was different again this year. They put it on the other side of the river in Lewiston instead of in Auburn. There was some beautiful views along the walk.
We managed to find Gladys again and we three finished together. I think between the messed up mile markers, and the fact that we doubled back to walk with Gladys, we probably walked about 7k. Toward the end of the walk, there is an area where families can put up posters in honor of loved ones, past and present, with cancer. We noticed the Dempseys had a poster toward the end of the line for their mother, Amanda, and I took a picture of it.
We got back to the finish line after about an hour of walking.
Once we got back to the park, we watched the survivor walk, and then the closing remarks.
After we took a break for lunch, Kathleen, Emilie, and I met a local named Bob Rand and his wife Phyllis in the parking lot of our hotel. Bob and I had been speaking a lot this year on Twitter, and a few weeks before the Challenge he offered to take us on a slow warmup ride. So, he and his wife took us on a ten mile loop on the back roads and around one of the lakes. I think he said it was Lake Auburn, but memory fails.
I ran into some problems with my cycling gear about three miles into the ride. My leg warmers kept slipping down; I guess because I have lost so much weight. I think, if one wants to have a problem with gear, being too thin is the best problem there is. I ended up having to stop the ride to take the leg warmers off, because otherwise they would have collected at my ankles and gotten caught in my pedals and crank. My arm warmers wouldn't stay up, either, but I had my windbreaker on, so it was less critical that they were pooling around my wrists.
The whole ride was picturesque.
I spent a lot of it talking with Bob about random things, such as the impact of the Dempsey Challenge on the local cycling community. Bob mentioned that cycling had grown immensely popular in the area. Rainbow Bicycle, the shop where I ship my bike to for this event, has been able to move to a new and better location, largely thanks to this upswing in popularity. We also talked about the cold, and the pretty scenery, and other things that came to mind. Originally, Bob had been planning to do the 100 mile ride on Sunday, but he mentioned that his schedule was tight this year, and asked if I would mind some company on the 50. I assured him the more the merrier, so he said he would think about downsizing that evening and make his final decision.
Too soon, though, the ride was over. I was happy to get some riding in while it was sunny, because I'd heard that the weather on Sunday for the bike ride might not be so pleasant. Emilie and Kathleen loved the ride also. Bob is the nicest, most encouraging person on the planet, and I had a wonderful time. I think I will take him up next year on his offer to do a 30 mile lighthouse tour ride with me, if I can get into town early enough for there to be time for it.
After the ride, Emilie, Kathleen, Erin, and I had a few hours to kill before the Hope dinner, which is restricted to those who raised $3000. I teamed up a little with Erin to bump her over $3000, so she brought me as her “date”. I didn't know what to expect at this dinner since I'd never been to it before. There was a large room with a stage, and it was full of chairs. There was a bartender and lots of catering stations with food. We schmoozed for about an hour with Joe Foster of Dempsey Racing, and then the presentation began, so we went to our seats.
All I can say is... what an emotional night. As I said, I had no idea what to expect going into this thing. They gave out awards to all the top fundraisers. Each award was presented by someone who'd utilized the Dempsey Center, and each presenter told his or her story of how the Dempsey Center had affected his or her life. I spent most of the night crying while listening to all those touching stories.
The Dempsey Center may not be funding a cure, but it's obvious to me that they save a lot of lives, just from hearing about how many people they've touched and cared for and loved. There was a particularly moving story about a woman who had had breast cancer. Her positive experience with the Center encouraged her to make her bed and breakfast into a healing sanctuary for people with cancer, and it was amazing to listen to her sincerity and tearful conviction. The best quote of the night, I think, was by the cancer survivor of the year, who said, “Hope is contagious; cancer isn't.”
During the night, there was also a segment in memory a woman named Angela Black, who unfortunately lost her fight with cancer on August 16. In honor of her, Team Angela raised $39,000, which is $1000 for each year of her life. Angela had participated in previous years of the Dempsey Challenge, even walking the 10k while she was very sick. Angela had wonderful attitude about life, and the whole story had me crying in earnest by the end. Most of the room was sniffling by the time the segment concluded. The Dempseys took the stage right after.
Patrick was a wreck and couldn't talk. There was dead silence for at least fifteen seconds while he tried repeatedly to give the microphone back instead of speaking, but eventually he managed to collect himself. He spoke about an octave lower than he usually does, and he was very difficult to understand at first, but he got better as he got rolling. Mary also had a hard time talking. So did everybody else who took the microphone. It was clear that everyone was grievously affected by Angela's death, and it's just... amazing to me how many big-hearted people the Center seems to attract. I know I keep using the word amazing, but that seems to be the only word that fits.
After the dinner presentation was finished, the crowd slowly bled out of the room, but we milled around to talk some more. I met a few other Grey's fans from Twitter for brief introductions, and then we spent more time talking with Joe. That man has some really amusing anecdotes, and he had us laughing several times. It was great fun to listen to him, even though I don't know or care much about racing.
When the room had mostly cleared out, Erin dragged me over to Patrick. He looked understandably exhausted at that point. The room was mostly empty. Even so, he smiled at us, and the very first thing he asked when he saw us was, “Did you two want pictures, also?”
My brain wasn't working, yet. He may as well have asked me what the cube root of 230985098234234 was, for all I was able to answer. Erin is my best friend and she was apparently tired of me kicking myself for stumbling all over the thank you I wanted to say. Since he'd given her an opening, she struck up a conversation with him.
Let me tell you, Erin is a talker. She talks and talks and talks and talks, and I kind of wonder how she manages to breathe while saying all those things. It's an amazing talent, really. She should play the trumpet with that lung capacity. (Don't worry, she knows I am kidding, and that I love her to death.)
Anyway. She'd dragged me over to Patrick. I finally had my chance. Likely my only other chance this weekend. I caught up with the situation after a few seconds, and I kept trying to get a word in, but she kept steamrolling me inadvertently. I can't even remember what she said at this point because I was focused so hard on just getting a chance to talk in that verbal maelstrom of hers. I think there was something in there about his twin boys, who were there but largely slept through the dinner, and something about... yeah. I don't remember.
It was comical in retrospect, and it turns out she had a plan. After a few minutes of babbling, Erin was her awesome self and shoved me into the conversation (thank you!) by opening with, “And my friend has a story to tell you!” Full stop. Erin went silent.
With that opener, his attention shifted to me, Erin stepped back so she could take some pictures of us chatting, and though I was internally freaking out, I managed to get my rehearsed speech out of my mouth. I said that I didn't have cancer, but that I did have diabetes, and I wanted to thank him for the Dempsey Challenge because it had encouraged me to change my life in positive ways. I also told him that the Dempsey Challenge was the best cycling event I'd ever participated in, bar none, and that I had participated in quite a few at this point. He seemed delighted to hear all that, and, really, that was all I wanted. To let him know that. My night had been made. Hell, that made my weekend, which was only half over.
At the end, I took a picture of Erin and Patrick, but a picture wasn't what I was after, and he seemed exhausted and ready to leave, so I didn't bother asking for one. I said good night, and he smiled, and then he left.
The morning of my 50 mile ride started out cold, wet, and dark. The temperature was in the 30s, and there was a light drizzle as we left the hotel. I rode in a pitch black, freezing mess with Erin, Kathleen, and Emilie for two miles to get from the hotel to the Dempsey Challenge starting line. In order to keep my leg warmers in place, I safety pinned them to my bike shorts in several places. I'm sure I looked like a dork, but at least I was warm. The others had forgotten to get water bottle cages for their water bottles, so they had to visit the Specialized tent for some assistance with that.
Meanwhile, I went over to the Tim Horton's trailer in search of a plastic bag to cover my cell phone, which was getting very wet with all the rain. The Tim Horton's people were not only happy to assist me, despite me not having patronized them, they actually ripped apart a new coffee filter bag to give me the plastic. I promised to return for doughnuts later, but unfortunately the trailer was closed by the time I made it back. I don't have Tim Horton's in my area, so I would appreciate it if you all who could would buy a doughnut or two for me to help me express my appreciation!
I set up for the start of the race with Erin and the others, and we waited for go time. Patrick said a few words, but I honestly don't remember much about what was going on because my head was spinning from watching the crowd and getting sucked in by all the excitement. Let me tell you, the bad weather didn't dampen the spirits at the DC in the slightest. Thousands of cyclists turned out for the event, so many that it was hard to move in the launch pipe, which wrapped all the way around the street corner, and the cheering crowd was just as big as it was last year. I hate to use the word yet again, but it was amazing.
The literal start of the DC was a bit of a kick in the pants, unfortunately. A cold drizzle had been going all morning, but at least it was only a drizzle. We got our heart-pounding countdown, “Three, two, onnnneeee, GO!” And then the sky opened up, and it started pouring frigid rain on us like we were on fire and needed to be put out. I don't know. Maybe we were cheering too loudly? It's possible. Regardless, I was doused in seconds. Within a few minutes, my socks were drenched, my wind shell and inner gear was drenched, my hair was drenched. I was DRENCHED, and I started losing feeling in my fingers and toes.
I let it get to me for about a mile, and then I managed to shrug it off. A lot of people planning to do the longer routes, like the 50, 70, and 100, opted to reduce their rides to 25 and 10 to get out of the elements, but I refused, much like last year when I had just recovered from my concussion. I wholeheartedly support this event and all that it entails. I had told people who had donated to me that I would be doing the 50. I goal set for the 50. I traveled across the United States for the 50. As far as I could see, I had no good reason, such as serious injury, to reduce my ride-length, so I would be doing the freaking 50. No way, no how, was a little rain and some cold toes going to stop me. So, there! I get very pigheaded sometimes, but I think it's usually in a good way.
About four miles into the ride, Erin and the others were still with me. I knew we were in for a long, difficult ride, given the rain, so I picked the first rider I saw in front of me and started drafting. If you remember from my last writeup, drafting on bikes is just like drafting in race cars. You get behind somebody and let them break up the air for you, so you don't have to pedal as hard. In coordinated rides, most pelotons rotate who is in front and who is behind, so that, in the end, everyone expends the same effort, and everyone gets the benefit of the draft. In helter-skelter events like this where there is no official peloton, it's mostly just a matter of finding the person in front of you and mooching for a while. I picked two (or three? I can't remember) women riding next to a smaller child on a smaller bike.
They were having a bubbly, happy chat, and I simply enjoyed the atmosphere for a while. It was nice to hear people in such good cheer despite the rain, and that lifted my spirits quite a bit. It was great seeing such a young person involved in such a great event, too. Though I love meeting new people at this event, particularly fellow cyclists, I didn't want to intrude on their family time, so I spent most of that time talking to Erin instead. It did not occur to me that I was drafting off anybody special until Erin asked me in a low, suspicious voice if that was Jill and Tallulah in front of us.
It was one of those dumb, head-smacking moments where you wonder why the heck you didn't connect the dots earlier. Oops. When everything is so wet, it's kind of hard to pick people out by hair alone, particularly blonds, who tend to turn brunette when they're soaked, and while I'm good at picking out bikes, I don't know what kind of bikes they ride other than that they are Specialized. As such, I still have no sure idea if one of the women was Jill, or Mary, for that matter. The kid, however, was definitely Tallulah, who, I might add, is simply darling. She's a feisty little rider. Though she was too tiny for me to draft off of, so I'd largely ignored her up to that point, I had noted earlier how hard she was working, and how happy she seemed. Patrick must be so proud of her!
Anyway, after realizing who everybody was, I backed off, because while I know I was harmless and was only there to save myself some effort, I'm sure they have all sorts of security concerns given their status at this event in particular, and given the fact that Tallulah is a child. I just wasn't sure what all was kosher, and I needed to start moving faster, anyway, because I wasn't warming up at their speed.
I bumped up my pace by quite a bit, pumped along, and I found a faster clump of not-famous people to draft behind. Unfortunately, in my quest to get myself warm, I kind of left Erin, Kathleen, and Emilie in the dust. I normally don't mind riding more slowly when I'm with friends and family, but in this case, it was either speed up, or my limbs would fall off from frostbite. You may think I'm exaggerating, but seriously, try riding in this crap:
With no real choice to slow down, I continued on my way. Despite buckets of rain dumping down on everybody, there were still a ton of supporters parked along the sides of the roads with their cowbells, cheering. The only difference between this year and last year is that most of them had umbrellas. I was amazed by their dedication to support the ride and the clear gratitude they expressed to every rider who passed them.
Once I got moving, I flew. The rain blessedly let up, but unfortunately, once you're soaking wet and the air is wet, even breathable cycling gear can't dry you off very fast. And when it's cold? Wet sucks. My socks were so soaked, my feet squished whenever I pressed down, and every single layer I had on had gotten permeated with water. I made it to rest stop 1 in record time because in order to stay warm, I had to keep myself in my aerobic zone. I was a little concerned about hypothermia when I stopped moving.
At stop 1, there were lots of people milling about already, lots of people hopping and shivering and wet. While I waited for everybody to catch up with me, I saw Patrick walk past out of the corner of my eye. He looked cold. And I mean cold. He was bouncing around doing a rabbit hop for a bit, which I would have been doing, too, except I'd already lost all feeling in my lower extremities and didn't want to break something.
He didn't stay to schmooze at this rest stop. Last year, he was there for at least twenty to thirty minutes. This year, he stayed about ten minutes, took about three pictures with people, and spent most of the time hiding in a closed tent. I imagine this was because he was freezing his ass off - he wasn't even wearing a windbreaker at the stop, just a long sleeve Dempsey Challenge jersey.
As a fellow SoCal thin blood, I have no idea how he managed to keep going in that cold mess with the few layers he wore. I was freezing, and I was bundled to the nines! Somebody gave him a fleece vest. Fleece is absolutely terrible for cycling because it traps sweat and makes you even colder in the long run, but at this point, I think he needed anything he could get. I wasn't kidding about the hypothermia earlier. Once he'd received the vest, he rolled out right past me while I was marco-polo-ing for my friends.
I met up with Bob Rand after a few minutes of wandering like a lost lamb. I was seriously starting to shiver at this point, and was anxious to get going again. I managed to find out through the grapevine that Erin and the others had gotten understandably cowed by the cold and rain and had taken the ten mile route back to the finish line, so it was just me and Bob and his wife left, both of whom had decided the night before to do the 50 anyway. We rolled out of the rest stop and moved at a pretty grinding pace to keep our blood pumping.
Remember last year how I bitched about all the hills? I spent a lot of time this last year at home finding “east coast” hills and practicing on them. There is a 12% grade hill behind my house. It's not long, and the total vertical height is only a hundred feet or so, but it's steep, just like a lot of the hills on the Dempsey Challenge, so I made sure to do a lot of repeats on that. This year, I didn't have nearly the trouble I had last year with the hills. They definitely got my heart going, but until mile 45 or so, I wasn't cursing any of them, and by mile 45, the curses had more to do with general exhaustion than anything else.
I was expecting a long haul to rest stop 2 given my experience last year, but it appears the Dempsey Challenge crew listened to my advice and changed the rest stop location, giving the course a much more even distribution on stops. It is amazing to me how responsive they are to the participants on trying to make this event be the best event it can be. Hats off to them.
At rest stop 2, I met my cheering squad, Cat, HBR, Tracey, and Gladys, who are all awesome and decided that the best way to spend the day would be to chase me all over the course to cheer me on. I introduced them to Bob and vice versa. I wanted to stay and talk more, but the cold kept me from sticking around too long. The cold turned out to be a great motivator, actually, since I finished way faster than last year.
The scenery along the route was as beautiful as ever. I did manage to stop to take a picture of a rather breathtaking view of a misty lake in the distance. The foliage was a bit more drab this year than last year. Bob told me this was because the ride was two weeks after peak time this year, instead of just one week like last year. Even so, I enjoyed every moment just looking and experiencing all the quaint little farmhouses, the babbling creeks, the lakes, the forests, the wildlife, everything. I can't express enough how worth it the ride is, simply for the scenery. It's a great introduction to how awesome cycling can be, not just for fitness, but for experiencing the world around you on a primal level: just you, the road, and the sights around you.
My cheering squad caught up with me again at rest stop 3, and I got more awesome hugs and cheers. They told me that I was about fifteen minutes off Patrick's pace, just like last year. Which should give you a hint about how much faster I went, because he said he shaved an hour off his previous fastest ride time during the closing remarks. At this point, I was really starting to feel the cold and distance. I had unfortunately only had time to train my endurance to about thirty-seven miles before I came this year, and that's right about where I started to feel myself fading. I did not want to get moving again, but knew it would only get harder the longer I stayed.
The last ten miles or so, from mile 44-54, were brutal for me. It wasn't so much that the hills themselves were bad, but that my muscles weren't prepared for that distance, so anything on an incline hurt extra. I had the cardio down pat, and Bob even commented I was in better shape than I thought I was, given that I could hold a conversation with him for 50 miles without trouble, but my thighs and calves were hurting by the end, and my bum knee, which I mentioned in my 2011 writeup, was starting to stab me with every pedal stroke. Bob was patient with me as I crawled along, and he waited diligently at the top of every hill for me. We made it back to the finish line around 1:30, where Erin and Emilie, who'd warmed up again by that point, and all my wonderful cheering squad friends were waiting with big smiles and lots of congratulations.
After that, HBR and Cat shuttled me back to the hotel to take a scalding shower, since I needed to thaw out. I headed back to the park with them to use my lobster bake ticket once I'd boiled myself for a while. I didn't have any lobster. Don't get me wrong, I like lobster, but not when it's looking at me. I need it out of the shell before I'll touch it. I got the chicken instead, which was also delicious, and just what I needed after such a long ride.
We hung around for the closing ceremonies. Patrick and Mary and several other people spoke. All of it was lovely.
I wanted to take this time again to mention the amazing support of the Lewiston/Auburn community. There were so many people out on the roads with cowbells, cheering us on. Whole families camped out with their open car trunks as umbrellas. I saw men dancing in hula skirts and shell bras. Yes, hula skirts in the freezing rain. I saw and heard people shouting from their windows. I had particular trouble on a hill toward the end of the route, and one of the women by the roadside actually walked up the hill beside me while I was pedaling up (I was managing about 4 miles an hour; it was a pretty abysmal climb on my part, but I was tired), clapping and cheering the whole way, and when I made it to the top, she thanked me profusely for riding that day. At the top of another grueling hill earlier in the course, I came across a woman who'd parked her car and was playing the Rocky theme at top volume for all of the struggling riders crawling up the hill. I thanked as many people as I could. I got a lot of giggles when I made jokes about, “More cowbell!” Every one of the hundreds of volunteers I met along the way was friendly and encouraging and thankful. The police who were out in force to stop traffic were courteous and responsive. And all this while it was freezing cold, wet, and miserable in general to be outside. I think I started crying about six separate times on the route.
I'm not kidding when I say this event is the most fantastic example of community I've ever seen. I'll come back every year just for the cowbells. The people here have won me over with their big, big hearts, their heaps of appreciation for all the participants, and their love, which they give freely to everyone. I'm convinced at this point that nobody mean lives in Maine. They're all sweethearts, and I can see well how Patrick became the man he seems to be today. He had a lot of great influences growing up.
Patrick Dempsey started this little snowball, but the community is what makes this event the avalanche it is today, and I will keep coming back as long as I am able. It's a life-changing experience. It sounds a little corny as I write it, but try the ride once, even just the ten mile one, and you'll see what I mean. I know fitness can be daunting once you've let yourself slide out of it for whatever reason, because believe me, I have been there, but when I look back on my life, I can tell you for sure that buying a bike was one of the best things I ever did for myself, and it was worth every penny. So, come on. Join me next year on the ride and try to prove me wrong.
Consider this my challenge to you.