The Dempsey Challenge 2016: #TwitterSpokes and Friendly Folks a.k.a. The World Converges on Maine
So, it's that time of year again, when I'm winding down from the Dempsey Challenge, and it's time for the writeup. If you'd like to read my writeups for previous years, you can follow the links for 2011 or 2012.
2016 was a bit of an odd duck - it was my first return to Maine since 2012. In 2013, the federal government shut down, and because I'm considered an "essential" employee, I was not able to take leave. In 2014, none of my friends wanted to go, and I didn't want to go by myself. In 2015, I went to Italy in October, and as much as I wanted to come to the Challenge, I wasn't able to clone myself to be in both places at once.
This year, I'd made plans to come since way back in November 2015, to include making a hotel reservation almost a year early. I had friends on board, time to save money and fundraise, and everything was set.
I mean, I sure thought it was set.
Until nothing at all was set.
Two weeks before the Challenge, due to some dire extenuating circumstances with my friends who had to cancel, I found myself suddenly with the prospect of attending the Challenge alone, and I had to scramble to change all my plans and reservations to fit my new trip, population 1. I was convinced I'd have a terrible time. Not having anybody to go with is the main reason I didn't attend in 2014. But since I'd already paid for my plane tickets this year, and I had no trip insurance, I couldn't back out. I decided to suck it up and go, anyway, and see how things went.
It. Went. Awesomely.
I think this is my favorite Challenge, yet.
Rewinding a bit for context.
As some of you may know, the Dempsey Challenge holds a deep personal significance for me. I come by it honestly -- in 2010, the only reason I came was to see Patrick and to meet some close online friends who were also Patrick fans. I didn't know a single thing about the Dempsey Center, had no particular attachment to Maine, wasn't in shape, and frankly didn't care that much about any of these facts. We did the 10k in 2010. That was it. 6.21 miles. But by the end, my hips and knees and back hurt, my feet had blisters, I couldn't keep my breath, and I felt like crap. It was a pretty visceral eye-opener that said, "Aria, you are not healthy. Fix it."
The following day, we watched the cyclists finish their rides and cheered them on. This was the first time I'd ever attended any sort of cycling event. Before this, I'd had no idea there was such thing as a non-race ride meant for enthusiasts to have fun. The day was beautiful -- a bit wet and a bit chilly, but mostly sunny, and the foliage looked gorgeous. The energy at the finish line with all the people cheering for the finishing cyclists was infectious. Toward the end of the day, as I watched a cyclist zip past me, I made up my mind.
This would be me next year. I would be on a bike, crossing that finishing line after 50 miles. That would be how I fixed my health crisis.
I didn't even own a bike at that point.
Within a week of getting home to San Diego, I'd gone to my local bike shop and walked out with a big hole in my wallet and a brand new Specialized Ruby. I started small. 5 mile rides, if that. I remember I was particularly scared to go down the Gilman Drive hill (a hill I now consider almost flat) because I wasn't sure how I'd ever get back to the top, so I mainly did laps around my neighborhood. I started making a little progress, and I was happy.
Then my doctor told me I had developed type 2 diabetes (thanks to another chronic disease I'm already living with), and everything crashed down. I don't even remember the first week or two, I was so upset by this news. For a while, I was afraid to eat anything, so I'd skip meals. I've battled depression/anxiety my whole life, and this incident pretty much curb stomped me into another low. Diabetes was just the latest in a long list of things that were wrong with me, thanks to a horrible nexus of bad luck and bad genetics. I started feeling like ... what was the point? Everything about me was broken, and it wasn't fair, and why me?
I remember thinking about dying. Never active plans. But things like, "I wish a car would hit me." Or, "Why can't an asteroid drop on my head?" This is called passive suicide ideation, and I couldn't go more than a day or so without thinking up a new "I wish" that would cause my death.
This was a terrible headspace in which to exist. I wouldn't wish it on anybody.
Those months are mostly a blur. But somehow, I kept doggedly working on my cycling goal. I noticed riding made me feel better, even when I was super upset, and found out through some research that exercise is considered one of the best natural mood stabilizers there is. On top of that, I lost weight. A lot of freaking weight. 50 pounds to be precise.
Between the cycling and the weight loss, I inadvertently got my diabetes 100% under control in a matter of months, to the point that, within reason, I can eat whatever I want. Between that good news, the exercise endorphins, and liking what I saw in the mirror quite a bit more thanks to the weight loss, I snapped out of that depression, and by October 2011, I was doing what I'd said I'd do.
Riding my first 50 mile Dempsey Challenge.
I don't have cancer. I've never had cancer. But I credit the Dempsey Challenge with saving my life.
I mean that quite literally.
I have no doubt that if I had not gone to the Challenge in 2010, my depression would not have stopped at, "I wish a car would hit me," because I never would have bought my bike. I would have ended up with a plan to crash my actual car. And, assuming I managed to live through that, I never would have lost the weight or gotten in shape, and diabetes would have killed me, instead. It would have taken longer, but it's a knife that's just as sharp and plunges just as deep.
The Dempsey Challenge saved my life.
And for that, I will always be grateful.
Fast forward to 2016.
I had no goals this year. I didn't feel the need to conquer any particular distance on the course, since I'd done that in 2011. I had plans to do 70 miles but wasn't married to the idea. I didn't feel the need to chase down Patrick to thank him for the Challenge, since I'd already done that in 2012. I just wanted to go and have fun and be moved and get moving.
I arrived at Boston-Logan around dinnertime on Thursday. I met up with Gladys at the airport, since she had similar flight plans. Gladys is a Twitter friend from Venezuela, who I met for the first time in the flesh back in 2012. I forget how we convinced her to come that year, but apparently she had a lot of fun, because she's been back to the Challenge every year since 2012. How cool is that?
Popping back to 2016. After meeting at the airport, we drove to Lewiston together. By the way, I've learned a lesson. Be careful when you use third party websites to book rental cars. If you tell them you want a car at BOS airport, it'll get you a car near BOS, but not necessarily at BOS. Me not noticing this ended up costing me about $350. Ouch.
Gladys and I had a late dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse, and we crashed at our respective hotels after that.
On Friday, Bob, a Lewiston local, met me for breakfast. I felt like having pancakes, so we went to Denny's and had a pleasant meal, and then we headed out to Portland for a 25 mile "lighthouse" tour/warmup/fun ride. Backing up just a little again, Bob and I made a team this year called TwitterSpokes (well, Bob made it; I just joined). Bob has become somewhat of a Twitter ambassador for the bike ride at the Challenge, and I think that's to the Dempsey Center's benefit. He's hands down one of the nicest people I've ever met. In 2012, when I was unable to drop my bike off to ship it back due to the fact that my flight out was on a holiday when the bike shop was closed, he volunteered to drop it off for me. He took me and my friends on a warmup ride on Saturday afternoon after the run/walk in 2012 also. At the time, he offered to take me on a lighthouse tour ride "next time." Next time turned out to be 2016. I was happy to take him up on his offer. Now, back to the present!
Bob took me on a coastal loop south(ish?) of Portland. The day was cold, but only partly cloudy, and it was gorgeous. We not only went past some very neat lighthouses, we went through a lot of quaint residential areas, spent some time on the East Coast Greenway, and even saw the most adorable warning sign for turtle crossings. I had a lot of fun, and I'd like to extend a huge thank you to Bob for taking me out to see all that, and for providing some friendly company.
And, let me tell you, I'm glad I did this warmup ride, not just for the pretty scenery, but because I think if I'd done the Dempsey Challenge ride as a cold start, I wouldn't have made it the whole 50 miles. Because I'd had to ship my bike two weeks early to have it there by the Challenge, and I'd been in Fargo visiting my grandmother the weekend before, I hadn't been able to ride in about 11 days. I was out of breath for almost the whole lighthouse ride, which is atypical for me, and I didn't really start to feel like my body was saying, "Okay, let's do this!" until around mile 20.
Given this experience, I started feeling even more dubious about my ability to complete the 70 mile course than I already was. I had only trained to about 45 miles, meaning I would have to magically go 25 miles more than my current longest ride, and I'd just had some sizable difficulty on a loop that was only 25 miles long to begin with. I expressed my concerns to Bob. Somehow, the conversation got around to Puke Hill, an infamous climb on the 70 mile course that I have yet to experience. He offered to show me the hill. After we got back to Lewiston and picked up our registration packets for the Challenge, he drove me out to see this hill.
Having had so many people build up this hill in my mind, I have to say I was singularly unimpressed. It looked pretty easy to me. I don't know if that's because it just looks easier in the car, or because I'm so used to the crazy infinite mountains-not-hills we have on the West Coast, or what, but ... seeing the hill did nothing to make up my mind about whether to do the 70 mile course or the 50 mile course on Sunday.
I continued to percolate that decision and would do so until around rest stop 1 of the actual ride on Sunday.
Bob drove me back to the hotel, so I could have a chance to shower and recuperate before dinner. I was gross and sweaty and was more than ready to get out of my bike shorts, which are a great comfort when riding a bike, but not so pleasant when you're just walking around. So, I raced to get into the shower, and was already undressed and stepping a toe into the tub when I got a quick text from Bob notifying me that Patrick was in the lobby.
*chagrinned sigh*
Now, please, let me be clear. I wasn't there for Patrick. I wasn't even planning to go out of my way to find him like I have in past years. But I wasn't going to turn down a chance to say hello when it practically fell in my damned lap.
However, in this instance, for which I'm sure Patrick is thankful, I opted not to do any lunatic streaking, and figured I'd see if he was still there after I'd cleaned up a bit and dressed. When I finally did make it back out the lobby, he was gone. Oh, well. No biggie. I would like to thank Bob, though, who flat out doesn't understand the furor Patrick tends to cause, and has said so any number of times, but still understands I'm a fan, and tried to help me out :)
After my lobby sighting strikeout, I settled onto the couch to read a book for a bit and unwind.
Cue extraneous Patrick sighting #1.
About ten minutes after I sat down, Patrick reappeared in the lobby. I saw him over the edge of my Kindle. For a second, I had an oh-my-god-now-what! moment when it looked like he was walking straight toward me to sit down, but he veered off at the last second to meet some people in the hotel restaurant. He didn't look like he was in say-hi-to-fans mode, so I didn't even consider bothering him, and I went back to reading my book.
Imriel and Dorelei had just gotten married on page whatever-it-was when, next thing I knew, there was a toddler at the table to my direct left, positively bawling, and Patrick kept saying, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare her!" Meanwhile, the mom who was trying to calm down the kid had the biggest "HOLY SHIT PATRICK 2+7=99 WHAT IS HAPPENING PATRICK IS HERE STOP CRYING THIS IS A TERRIBLE TIME TO CRY WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME KID PATRICK CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE HALLLP" look on her face that made me expend herculean effort on not cracking up.
I guess he tried to say hi to people at a random table or something. I can't imagine living a life where this is a normal aspect of people reacting to my presence, but I guess Patrick's a pro at this point, and he didn't seem fazed beyond the fact that the kid was upset. Anyway, after futilely trying to calm the little girl down, Patrick gave up and said something along the lines of, "I guess I'll leave, now that I've stirred shit up," and he slipped out the front door to a waiting car.
Meanwhile, the kiddo was still sobbing. The mother eventually got her calmed down. She just kept saying, "Wow."
I couldn't help but laugh, at this point, and the woman turned to me and smiled and said, "Well, that was ... something." We shared a giggle.
Bob arrived shortly after this, and we went to dinner at Rails. The food was delicious, but the restaurant was crowded and had terrible acoustics, which resulted in me having to shout most of my conversation. Still a fun night, though.
After we finished eating, Gladys was suddenly standing next to my table with a surprised look on her face. Last I'd heard, she was having dinner at Gritty's or something like that. But apparently her group had changed their minds and ended up at Rails, too. We had a laugh over that. Gladys was spending most of her trip with her racing fan friends, a few of whom I know from Twitter, such as Desiree (from Germany) and Angelique (from ... France? I think?), and a few of whom I've never interacted with whatsoever. Despite me being on the periphery of that social cluster, I was yanked into their group photo, and happily welcomed, which surprised me, but ... in retrospect, it's pretty typical for the Dempsey Challenge.
Everybody there is always so friendly and welcoming and inclusive. I've never once felt like I've run into a clique wall, not in any of the four years I've now gone. The whole event is very much about sharing the love, which is a sentiment I try hard to emulate when I'm there. Along those lines, I think I may have convinced Desiree and maybe even Irene (more on Irene later) to join Bob and me on the bike ride next year! We'll see :)
On Saturday, I was planning to sleep in until the last possible minute, but I ended up waking up around 5 a.m. for some reason, and wasn't able to fall back asleep. I decided around 5:30 to just suck it up and roll with it. I got dressed, ate a quick snack, and headed out to the staging area.
This is the first year I've been there when they've staged the 10k first, and then they've staged the 5k as an entirely separate second thing, and Patrick gave an equivalent sendoff for both. Not only that, but the stage for all the presenters was oriented so that one could easily see everything without having to be in the staging area for the walk/run. It also meant 5k walk/runners got to see as much as the 10k walk/runners did. I really liked that. The staging area used to be a frustrating traffic jam fangirl zoo because everybody would want to hang out by the stage and watch Patrick instead of actually walking or running.
After Patrick gave the 10k walk/runners their sendoff, I staged with the 5k walk/runners. Through pure random happenstance, I ran into Bob and his wife, Phyllis, a few minutes before we were told to go, so I ended up doing most of the 5k with them. The weather was a little drizzly but mostly dry, and the walk was, as usual, lovely. The course went along the river on the Lewiston side, then across a bridge into Auburn, and then back to Lewiston over another bridge to arrive back at the finish line in the park. I had to run back to my hotel in the middle, while the walk was on the Auburn side, to grab my phone's spare battery, so I ended up doing more like ... 7k, I'd guess. I had a brief panic when I couldn't find my wallet after grabbing the battery, but with some detective work, I managed to find it outside the hotel on the grass near the path. Whew. Battery recovered, and wallet found, I ran back to join the other walk/runners. I managed to catch the tail end of the group, and was able to finish with everybody else. Then I lined up for an omelette and pizza.
There were a lot of people who wanted omelettes and pizza. It was kind of a mess. I wish the line had had greater throughput (I was waiting for at least thirty minutes), and I wish the tent had better accommodated the massive clot of traffic. I got my omelette, but gave up on getting to the pizza due to that. The pizzas were in the back corner, and I couldn't get there no matter what I tried. There was a wall of people that was getting fed both from the front of the tent and from the back wall, because of how the omelette cooks were lined up, so nobody in the middle was able to go anywhere, and the space became a giant, claustrophobic traffic jam.
That's okay, though. I had a nice chat with my omelette cook. She was an aspiring chef, still in school. The omelette she made was quite tasty and filled me up until lunch. I wished her luck in her culinary endeavors before I moved on.
I hung around in the park after the 5k until the survivor walk and watched that. That was lovely and brought a lump to my throat. As Patrick's sister Mary pointed out, when she turned around in the line, she couldn't see the end of it, which used to be possible in earlier years of the Challenge. More and more people are surviving. I think this is, in part, thanks to many of the wonderful services the Dempsey Center offers. Stress is a killer as much as any disease, and a lot of what the Dempsey Center does for people is help take away the not-knowing and the isolation that can sometimes be involved with a cancer diagnosis. I think this aspect of cancer treatment is oft neglected in favor of finding an
actual cure, which is a shame. It sounds like a cheesy sentiment, I know, but a little love goes a long way.
After the survivor walk concluded, I made plans with Alessandra, Irene, and maybe-Gladys to go to Freeport for lunch. Irene is another Twitter friend of mine. She's from Italy (circa Florence), and I had a chance to meet her when I was there in October 2015. She decided to come to the United States for a while after graduation to be an au pair in NYC. I'd been working on her all year to come to the Dempsey Challenge and finally managed to convince her a few weeks before. She brought Alessandra, another Italian au pair, with her and she introduced us while I was waiting in the crazy omelette line. Like I said, I'm all about sharing the love at this event, and was happy to have Alessandra along. She's a total sweetheart, and I was glad to meet her.
Once we'd all made our Freeport plans, I headed back to the hotel to shower and change and unwind a little. After my shower, I went out to sit on the couch in the lobby and read for a bit.
Cue extraneous Patrick sighting #2.
(I swear, this couch must be to Patrick as a lamp is to a genie or something.)
This was a quick one. He was coming out of the elevator as I was heading back to my hotel room to drop something off. I had a brief aslkj;lkjsa;ldkfj moment before I finally managed to chirp, "Hi!" We exchanged a vanilla greeting (hi, how are you? I'm fine, how are you, blah blah), and that was that. This was a major accomplishment for me, though, and pretty much made my day.
Did I mention I have problems with anxiety? Well, one aspect of that is social anxiety. I camouflage myself well. When I tell people about it, most don't immediately believe me, but the simple fact is that the idea of approaching somebody I don't know and initiating a conversation is equivalent in my mind to the idea of having a barbecue with some ravenous man-eating lions as guests. It doesn't matter if it's Patrick or Coworker or Random Joe. If I don't know him or her, it's paralyzing. It's why my asking for help in a store usually follows several meticulous laps to conclude asking is indeed my last resort, and it's why when somebody says, "Hey, would you call xyz for me and say 123?" it puts a pit in my stomach. Said anxiety has gotten a lot better as I've grown older, and is a nonissue most of the time, but I sometimes still get those random stomach-dropping-out moments where fight-freeze-flight really freaking wants to be flight, and why can't I be running away right now? I definitely had one of those moments when I saw him, and it took me a few paces to overcome it, but I managed.
So, yay for me! "Hi!" accomplished!
By the time we were ready to go to Freeport, maybe-Gladys turned into definitely-Gladys, and the four of us piled into Irene's rental car and began our trek. Freeport is such a neat town. I wish it hadn't been raining -- it would have been more tempting to window shop and walk around. As it was, we had lunch at the Azure Cafe. We went to the Mangy Moose, next, where I purchased a new set of moose pajamas to replace the ones I'd bought in 2011 and had since worn to a hole-y death. After that, we poked our heads into LL Bean. Gladys split off to join her racing fan friends, and the three of us remaining went to Wicked Whoopies to buy some whoopie pies. This is the first real whoopie pie I've ever had that I can remember (I'm not counting vending machine junk). It was so good. This will definitely be on my "must stop there" list for future Dempsey Challenges.
Since it was raining, and everybody was tired, we headed back to Lewiston after that. I decided to chill out in my hotel room after that. I had an early morning and a long ride coming up on Sunday, and I wanted to rest up.
On Sunday, I actually slept until my alarm went off. I was super jittery at this point. I always get nervous before big cycling events. I had some pancakes for breakfast at the hotel restaurant, which thankfully opened up early in light of the Challenge starting at 7 a.m. I headed out to the staging area pretty early since I was ready, anyway. When I got there, the chute for staging all the cyclists was almost empty. I decided, since I still hadn't made up my mind, yet, whether to do the 70 or the 50, to stage with the 70s this year. I didn't find Bob before the race, but we'd agreed beforehand to meet at rest stop #1 if that happened, so I didn't worry.
The wave start of the Dempsey Challenge is always a heart pumper. The music and the crowd and the countdowns make it so exciting!!! I was in the very front of the 70s, and I had my standard omg-what-if-I-can't-clip-in-and-I-fall-over-and-people-run-over-me-and-I-cause-a-traffic-jam-with-my-corpse nerves, but I managed to get situated quickly enough to wave to Gladys, who was on the sidelines with a camera, when it was my turn to go. And off I went.
I knew by about five miles into this ride that the 70 mile course would not be happening for me this year. It was about 55 degrees, if I remember right. That's cold (to me), but more than tolerable. The problem was that it was also very wet. It wasn't raining, per se. It was more this weird, pervasive, drizzle-mist that managed to permeate all my gear, film over my sunglasses, and make my toes go completely numb. The wet conditions combined with the cold weather to make things kind of miserable, and by rest stop 1, I wasn't feeling very good. Stopping at rest stop 1 was the nail in the coffin on the 70 mile idea. Allowing myself to cool down when I'd just barely warmed up was a problem that would linger for me until around mile 30. Anyway.
Cue extraneous Patrick sighting #3.
Patrick was at rest stop 1 with his kids and his entourage. He was taking pictures with almost anybody who asked. I decided to have a go at it. After a couple false starts, I managed coherently to ask him for one, and of course he said yes (I don't think I've ever once seen him say no at this event). Yay! Is it weird that I'm more excited about the fact that I had the guts to ask him for a photo than the fact that I actually got one?
I know, I know. You think I'm crazy. Technically, I think I am. Did I mention the anxiety?
At this point I was pretty revved up. This weekend had almost become a new Challenge in and of itself. I mean I'd already declared victory over physical fitness. I suppose mental fitness would be next?
Moving on, I finally found Bob, and then Phyllis, and we made the group decision to do 50 miles this year. (I swear I will keep trying for the 70, though. Someday, I'd even like to do the 100, but it's hard to find the time to train for that.) We barely made it out of the rest stop before Bob had his derailer break, and he had to go back to the repair tent. He urged me and Phyllis to go ahead, and that he'd catch up. Knowing Bob's insane bike fitness level, I knew he wasn't lying, so we continued onward.
Phyllis and I had a really nice chat about our experiences at the event and at previous rides. The first half of the 50 mile Dempsey Challenge course is by far the worst, and having cooled down completely at rest stop 1, that stretch between rest stop 1 and rest stop 2 was pretty rough. I confess I was out of breath for most of it. I think we'd only made it about 5 miles when Bob found us again, but it felt like I'd been riding for a year. I think the cool down plus the bad weather did me in. I spent most of the ride way behind Bob and Phyllis. Even flat road felt like it was going up.
Worse, I had a SAG wagon stalking behind me for a lot of this section, and that was stressing me out, big time. SAG wagons are basically transport vehicles for riders who are hurt or can't otherwise continue. I don't understand why they kept following me. I wasn't anywhere near the last rider. I mean, I was having trouble, but not that much trouble. Eventually, they found somebody else to torment, and I relaxed. Still, though, at some point, I'd downshifted to the "granny wheel" on my chain ring and couldn't seem to get back onto the middle ring. Megquier Hill, which I'd never considered much of a problem on past rides, slowed me to a 3 mph crawl, and I had to stop at rest stop 2 before my lungs exploded. But that only compounded the problems I was having, because then I cooled down all over again.
Rest stop 2 had a beautiful misty view, and some very tasty fluffernutters, at least! Also, I got to chat with two more Twitter friends, Maria from the UK, and Emily from ... I'm so sorry, Emily. I forget. Belgium? Maybe? I think? The two of them were doing the ride at a similar pace and were also stopped.
And, please, don't get me wrong. I'm complaining about my difficulties, but the ride was beautiful, the community support made me cry good tears more than once, and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. These issues were tiny drops in a big bucket of enjoyment.
After rest stop 2, the course got flatter, and I had a much easier time. There were a few intersection parties with lots of spectators cheering in the Megquier Hill area, and that was a huge pickmeup that put a lump in my throat and helped me when I really needed it. Bob, Phyllis, and I opted to skip rest stop 3 and we only stopped at rest stop 4 long enough to tell our respective cheering squads where we were. Not stopping for long helped me keep warm, and by around mile 30-35 or so, I was finally feeling good.
There was one hill toward the very end of the ride where the stalker SAG wagon came back. I was about an inch from stopping my bike and telling them to go away when they went away of their own volition. I really don't know what was up with that. It wasn't just me being sensitive, either. I passed another rider who was getting pretty upset, too.
That is my one major complaint about the event this year. That freaking SAG wagon. Why can't SAG wagons just sit still at various checkpoints until they're needed? I don't get it. It's stressful constantly hearing the rumble of a van right behind me, and it makes me feel like I'm not going fast enough, which pushes me to overexert myself trying to speed up. Worse, the SAG wagon that was tailing me kept honking whenever it would pass me.
Please, drivers, don't honk at cyclists to indicate your position. If a cyclist can see you, and you honk, it's pointless, and if a cyclist can't see you, and you honk, it just scares him or her half to death. I understand the, "YAY YOU!!! THANKS!" honks I get from local drivers who see us riding for the Challenge. I understand, "STOP BEING AN IDIOT!!!" honks. But a honk should never mean, "HELLO!" Trust me, unless you're driving a hybrid in some sort of Batman stealth mode, we know you're there.
When we got to the finish line, Bob encouraged me to go in front, so I pedaled ahead. The announcer called my name, and then I sailed into a ton of cheering faces and cameras. Gladys was there at the finish line snapping photos. I think Irene was, too, though I didn't see her. It was an exhilarating moment. I made sure to wave, and couldn't help but beam for everybody who was there to greet me. Thanks, cheering section!
Another 50 miles done! That makes for 150 miles of Dempsey Challenge, and I expect that number to keep growing.
After the ride, I stayed long enough to have some food in the lobster bake tent. I'm not a lobster-in-the-shell person -- I have this thing about food that still has eyeballs -- so I got some chicken. Once I'd filled up, I went back to the hotel to thaw myself out. I stayed in the shower for a good half hour. Once I'd warmed up and lay down for a little bit, I headed back to the park to see the closing remarks. Bob had a chance to introduce me to Tish Caldwell, the fundraising coordinator for the Dempsey Center. Bob had apparently been talking me up to her a bit, and she was really excited to meet me. What a lovely person! We talked a little bit about the event, and about how far I'd traveled to attend, and if I remember right, I introduced her to Irene and Alessandra, but, honestly, a chunk of Sunday after the bike ride is just a happy blur to me, so I could be misremembering.
After a little while, Patrick and his sisters got up on stage and all said something. It was short and sweet and gracious, and then it was done.
Dempsey Challenge 2016: complete.
For what I thought was our final farewell to the 2016 Dempsey Challenge, Alessandra, Irene, Gladys, and I went to DaVinci's for dinner. Even though I'd just eaten after the ride, I was still hungry. Burning nearly 3000 calories in one sitting will do that to you. We had a great evening, and not long after, we said our goodbyes. I went to bed, exhausted.
On Monday, I packed up all my stuff and ate my leftovers from DaVinci's for breakfast. I relaxed in bed and watched a few hours of inane television shows. I shamefully admit that the hoarders show on TLC is kind of addictive. I forget what it's called, but it's like this strange train wreck I have trouble not staring at.
Once I'd sufficiently woken up, I walked my bike back to Rainbow Bike to set up shipping it back to San Diego, and then headed back to the hotel room for some more practice at being a layabout.
Back before the Challenge, when I was wailing about how all my plans had imploded at the last minute, I said I was particularly worried about what to do after the Challenge, since I had made plans to make a day trip to NYC with a friend who lives in the area, and because she'd canceled, I suddenly didn't have a guaranteed place to stay after I left the hotel on Monday. Gladys chimed in that she was already planning to go to NYC after the Challenge. I asked if she wouldn't mind some company for a day. She said something along the lines of, "Sure! Let's go!" So, we made some last minute plans.
Now that I had sufficiently woken up, run all my errands, and packed all my bags, I let Gladys know that I was ready to go whenever she was.
This was when I found out she was still a busy bee and was at the park helping clean up trash from the Challenge with the rest of her racing fan friends. I decided to join in the fun, and after packing all my bags into the car and checking out of the hotel, I walked over. The weather was sunny and warm and I admit I was a little irritated at mother nature for not giving me this day yesterday. Oh, well. Maybe, next year?
I roamed around the park with Gladys and her trash bag for a while, picking up junk. After about an hour or two, we concluded that the park was about as clean as it was going to get. Gladys really wanted to go back to the Dempsey Center to say goodbye to Mary, so I tagged along for that, along with all of Gladys's other friends.
Cue extraneous Patrick sighting #4.
I knew vaguely that Patrick was still in town because Gladys had mentioned seeing him, but I was not expecting to see him again myself. Mary was right there in the lobby when we came out of the elevator at the Dempsey Center. Tish came out to say hello as well. We all chatted for a while. This was my first opportunity to actually meet Mary, so that was great. She is such a sweet person! I swear, I don't think anybody mean lives in Maine. Every single Mainer I've met has been above-and-beyond friendly. Throughout the weekend, between Bob and Phyllis and Tish, countless strangers, and now Mary, I felt so welcome!
Then Patrick walked in.
I really don't know why I didn't think he'd be at the eponymous Center, knowing full well he was still around in Lewiston/Auburn somewhere, but ... yeah. Okay, my brain was clearly not firing on all cylinders after too many days of excitement and no sleep ;p He recognized all the racing fans right away and talked with them just a little, including cracking a funny joke about how they should all just buy real estate here since they seemed to live here already. Then he took a photo with everybody. I somehow found myself standing right in the middle of that one with his arm at my waist. I have no idea how that came about, so I couldn't tell you. I was still stuck at, "Wait, he's here? But it's Monday."
He and Mary got pulled into a meeting after that. Gladys hadn't gotten a chance to say her goodbye to Mary. I was in no rush beyond wanting to be in Portland before late evening -- we had a godawful early flight on Tuesday from Portland to NYC -- so I told Gladys that if she wanted to wait, we could wait, and that it was up to her. She opted to wait, so we hung out on the couches in the lobby.
After the meeting, Patrick left in a hurry, and Gladys finally got to chat with Mary. She gave Mary some chocolates from Venezuela, which I thought was very sweet. Mary discussed some dinner plans, to include shooting pool (!!! did I mention everybody in Maine seems to be ridiculously nice and inclusive?). Gladys and I had to get to Portland at a reasonable hour, though, and Gladys still had some other friends she wanted to hook up with for a bit, so we politely declined. But then Gladys's intended lunch-turned-dinner date (Chris & Kristen Short and their kids) showed up at the Center.
At Mary's prompting, we got to hear Kristen's amazing story of perseverance, and heard her talk about how the Center had helped her through her cancer diagnosis. For the fifty-seven-billionth time this weekend, I got a huge lump in my throat. I also had a chance to mention to Mary how much this event meant to me on a personal level. I thanked her and told her how nice it was to finally meet her. She wouldn't accept a handshake, only a hug.
After that, Gladys and I went to an early dinner with the Short family. We went to Mac's Grill. I had a whole slew of tasty appetizers, as well as the lobster mac & cheese. Yummy. The Shorts picked up the tab before I could even blink, and again, I was touched by the amazing kindness of everybody I've met in the Lewiston/Auburn area. After that, they took us to their land to show us around. I saw their amazing lake view, got to meet some very friendly chickens (I seriously had no idea chickens could be friendly), and was "attacked" by a silly, sweet dog named Nutmeg. I was even given an apple picked straight from the Shorts' apple tree.
I was completely awed by the hospitality, and I'll never forget it. It was the cherry on top of an amazing weekend. By the time Gladys and I headed to Portland, I was in such a good mood I could have floated right out the car window.
And thus concluded my 2016 Dempsey Challenge. Despite not having anybody with me, I managed to carve out a great time, thanks in no small part to old and new Twitter friends, an army of gregarious Mainers, and all the other new people I met once I was there. Patrick kept randomly dropping into my corner of the universe without any effort on my part, which spiced up the weekend, too. My personal challenge was less physical and more social this year, but I met it head on. I'm hoping, next year, I can be a little more organized and convince all my Twitter friends to join the #TwitterSpokes team with Bob and me.
So, I guess that's my challenge to you for next year. Grab a bike and join me, won't you? I promise to share the love. It's what they do in Maine :)