In Fort Collins, we met Tim Rickett. We arrived in Fort Collins on June 25, and Tim joined us for breakfast the following morning.
Five years ago, Tim was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. At 10:30 pm the night before we met him, Tim learned that he had 100% remission from his illness. Tim attributes his success to two reasons: 1) MD Anderson and 2) his daughter, who he wanted to see graduate from high school. Since our fundraising supports MD Anderson, Tim was especially excited about Texas 4000 and its mission.
Tim's case is extremely rare. Most pancreative cancer patients die from their condition within a few months of their diagnosis. It makes me think that a lot of one's struggle with cancer has to do with one's determination to live.
I wonder what went through my mom's mind as she struggled with brain cancer and whether she gave in to her condition. A part of me wants to think that the cancer was too strong for her, but a part of me also thinks that she was simply tired of fighting.
My dad believes that chemotherapy kills people faster than does the cancer, and I think he's right. Maybe Mom really was tired of fighting, but I don't know. I think back on our last moments together and wish that I had asked Mom more questions or had taken more time to listen to her. Maybe I was too young to realize the gravity of Mom's sickness. I think, had I been able to grasp the concept of cancer and of death, maybe our fight would have been different. Maybe it would have been successful.
I think about Tim's daughter and am glad that he had such a strong inspiration to go on with his fight. Since I can't change the past and the path of my mom's struggle, riding with Texas 4000 gives me hope that those who are still fighting might have simlar success.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Las Animas, Colorado (Day 13--June 19)
There's a myth that the name, Las Animas, derives from bloodshed. A group of Spanish priests were killed by a Native American tribe, and in commemoration of their deaths, the city was named after the "lost souls," or las animas, that passed away.
During the night of our stay in Las Animas, my host Pam Valdez was worried that the story of the name would make Las Animas appear haunted or spooky. In my own short experience, however, I found that Pam had nothing to worry about, and that Las Animas was indeed a charming and warm town for us to stay.
Las Animas was the first city in which our group was divided among host families. We ocassionaly split up the group among hosts, and even though it's kind of sad to break up the team (even if only for a night), doing so allows us to interact more closely with the communities that welcome us.
In Las Animas we were separated into groups of two to three riders per host, and Kasaundra and I stayed with Pam Valdez, a mother of three. Pam is a chiropractor in Las Animas and has been for the past 26 years.
That night we had a pot luck dinner at Pam's church, and we gave a presentation about Texas 4000 and its cause. I was one of the three presenters, and I mentioned my inspirations for riding. I was touched when my own teammate, Abby, shared her major reason for riding: her friend Will Devonshire, who had passed away from cancer when he was only in high school. Even though I spend day and night with my teammates, I still learn more about them each day.
After the presentation, Pam drove us to her home, where we were able to chat and learn more about each other.
Pam's best friend, Brenda, had passed away from pancreatic cancer just a year ago. I didn't probe with too many questions, because Pam seemed sensitive about the issue.
That night, Pam also offered to "adjust" Kasaundra and I the night before. I had never visited a chiropractor, so I was pretty excited about the whole event.
Pam popped almost every joint in my body: the bones of my neck, the bones all along my spine, both of my wrists, as well as my ankles. She also moved my stomach downwards. According to Pam indigestion may result from a poorly positioned stomach; mine was positioned such that it was scrunched up towards my esophagus.
I also couldn't help from laughing the entire time. I'm extremely ticklish, so everytime Pam tried to adjust parts of my back or my ankles, I would squirm and giggle. Pam said that squiriming from ticklishness is actually a defense mechanism, because ticklish areas are points of nerve damage.
I felt pretty good the next morning, and was well-prepared for the 85-mile day to Pueblo. That day, Kasaundra and I rode in Brenda's memory. It was an honor to do so.
During the night of our stay in Las Animas, my host Pam Valdez was worried that the story of the name would make Las Animas appear haunted or spooky. In my own short experience, however, I found that Pam had nothing to worry about, and that Las Animas was indeed a charming and warm town for us to stay.
Las Animas was the first city in which our group was divided among host families. We ocassionaly split up the group among hosts, and even though it's kind of sad to break up the team (even if only for a night), doing so allows us to interact more closely with the communities that welcome us.
In Las Animas we were separated into groups of two to three riders per host, and Kasaundra and I stayed with Pam Valdez, a mother of three. Pam is a chiropractor in Las Animas and has been for the past 26 years.
That night we had a pot luck dinner at Pam's church, and we gave a presentation about Texas 4000 and its cause. I was one of the three presenters, and I mentioned my inspirations for riding. I was touched when my own teammate, Abby, shared her major reason for riding: her friend Will Devonshire, who had passed away from cancer when he was only in high school. Even though I spend day and night with my teammates, I still learn more about them each day.
After the presentation, Pam drove us to her home, where we were able to chat and learn more about each other.
Pam's best friend, Brenda, had passed away from pancreatic cancer just a year ago. I didn't probe with too many questions, because Pam seemed sensitive about the issue.
That night, Pam also offered to "adjust" Kasaundra and I the night before. I had never visited a chiropractor, so I was pretty excited about the whole event.
Pam popped almost every joint in my body: the bones of my neck, the bones all along my spine, both of my wrists, as well as my ankles. She also moved my stomach downwards. According to Pam indigestion may result from a poorly positioned stomach; mine was positioned such that it was scrunched up towards my esophagus.
I also couldn't help from laughing the entire time. I'm extremely ticklish, so everytime Pam tried to adjust parts of my back or my ankles, I would squirm and giggle. Pam said that squiriming from ticklishness is actually a defense mechanism, because ticklish areas are points of nerve damage.
I felt pretty good the next morning, and was well-prepared for the 85-mile day to Pueblo. That day, Kasaundra and I rode in Brenda's memory. It was an honor to do so.
Rocky Mountain High, Colorado
We crossed in to Colorado on June 19, the thirteenth day of our trip, into a town called Las Animas. From There, we biked 85 miles to Pueblo, traveled 60 miles to Colorado Springs, made a 62-mile trip to Denver, had a short 35-mile bike to Boulder, where we rested for a day, and then crossed into Fort Collins for a relatively short 45-mile trip--the 19th day of our summer.
Colorado was a beautiful place to be: the weather was clear, the air was clean and refreshing, and scenic, paved bike trails carried us safely in to Denver and Boulder. I couldn't help thinking of the website, stuff white people like, everywhere we went: we were surrouned by Subarus, Chaco sandals, New Balance tennis shoes, REI superstores, organic and locally-owned food markets, and recycling centers.
My teammate Scott started a game called, "Sum up the Subarus," in which we counted up all the Subarus we could find within one location. Outside of Ideal Food Mart, we found 11 altogether. I think I saw only three for every two days in Austin.
Colorado was exactly what I expected, and more. Although I didn't take part in a particular adventure during our stay in the state, I think it is expecially noteworthy: 10 of my teammates made a life-changing bike ride to the summit of Mount Evans. Mt. Evans is over 14,000 feet above sea level, and the road to its summit (according to Google search results) is the world's highest paved roadway. Mike Casey made a great blog entry on the Texas 4000 website about his journey.
My teammates and I are becoming closer and closer with each struggle and success. We're becoming a family, and we need to work together as such in order to make it to Anchorage.
Colorado was a beautiful place to be: the weather was clear, the air was clean and refreshing, and scenic, paved bike trails carried us safely in to Denver and Boulder. I couldn't help thinking of the website, stuff white people like, everywhere we went: we were surrouned by Subarus, Chaco sandals, New Balance tennis shoes, REI superstores, organic and locally-owned food markets, and recycling centers.
My teammate Scott started a game called, "Sum up the Subarus," in which we counted up all the Subarus we could find within one location. Outside of Ideal Food Mart, we found 11 altogether. I think I saw only three for every two days in Austin.
Colorado was exactly what I expected, and more. Although I didn't take part in a particular adventure during our stay in the state, I think it is expecially noteworthy: 10 of my teammates made a life-changing bike ride to the summit of Mount Evans. Mt. Evans is over 14,000 feet above sea level, and the road to its summit (according to Google search results) is the world's highest paved roadway. Mike Casey made a great blog entry on the Texas 4000 website about his journey.
My teammates and I are becoming closer and closer with each struggle and success. We're becoming a family, and we need to work together as such in order to make it to Anchorage.
We've got no business in Kansas
It has been several days since I've accessed this blog, and I was delighted to see your comments. They made my day 1,000 times better.
I felt a wave of homesickness last night. After dropping a few tears onto my camp pillow, I eventually drifted into a peaceful slumber on the gymnasium floor of Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church. I'm in Boulder, Colorado right now.
I'm going to post a series of pictures soon, but for now I can only describe to you the scenery.
Since I'm a bit behind, I'll start with Kansas. Have you ever been before?
The most remarkable aspect of our journey through Kansas was the smell. The odor was an amalgam of stale livestock urine, fresh manure, and red Tabasco sauce. A few of us gagged as we passed our first animal feedlot, but we acclimated quickly. In the mornings, the dampness of the air would worsen the smell. My teammate Julio joked, "We should bike through Kansas in one day; we've got no business here." It turns out that he was right; we were all eager to leave. It took us three days.
The land was flat, the winds were cruel, the gnats bit, and most of the drivers were impatient with cyclists. The prettiest parts were the golden fields of wheat. The wind moved the grains--blond hairs swaying in a harsh breeze.
Here's a funny picture of us near the Kansas sign. We're strangely spaced, because only two of our riders were bold enough to stand near the sign, which was surrounded by brown mud and stagnant water.
I felt a wave of homesickness last night. After dropping a few tears onto my camp pillow, I eventually drifted into a peaceful slumber on the gymnasium floor of Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church. I'm in Boulder, Colorado right now.
I'm going to post a series of pictures soon, but for now I can only describe to you the scenery.
Since I'm a bit behind, I'll start with Kansas. Have you ever been before?
The most remarkable aspect of our journey through Kansas was the smell. The odor was an amalgam of stale livestock urine, fresh manure, and red Tabasco sauce. A few of us gagged as we passed our first animal feedlot, but we acclimated quickly. In the mornings, the dampness of the air would worsen the smell. My teammate Julio joked, "We should bike through Kansas in one day; we've got no business here." It turns out that he was right; we were all eager to leave. It took us three days.
The land was flat, the winds were cruel, the gnats bit, and most of the drivers were impatient with cyclists. The prettiest parts were the golden fields of wheat. The wind moved the grains--blond hairs swaying in a harsh breeze.
Here's a funny picture of us near the Kansas sign. We're strangely spaced, because only two of our riders were bold enough to stand near the sign, which was surrounded by brown mud and stagnant water.
Here's a post about my hardest day in Kansas. It's from the Texas 4000 website.
*****
June 19, 2008
Yesterday was by far our hardest day. We biked 108 miles from Dodge City, Kansas to Syracuse, Kansas. We battled challenging and dangerous winds for the entire journey.
The first 20 miles were quite pleasant, but during the second we had too much on our minds to enjoy the sunny day: a narrow shoulder about five feet wide, 20+ mph cross winds, and freight trucks jerking our bodies and bikes as they passed us by at 70 miles an hour. For the next 20 miles, we fought against strong headwinds, and I could only pedal at half my normal speed. My slowest pace might have been 8 mph.
The last 40 miles were just as hard, because we had to travel across rolling hills under the dry Kansas heat. It was only about 90 degrees outside, but it felt about 10 degrees hotter, because of the steaming asphalt.
There were so many moments that made me want to quit, and there were times that I wanted to cry. My lower back was hurting from fighting the opposing wind; my right knee was hurting at the halfway point; my thighs were burning. But, we all continued to pedal.
We all could have opted for the support vehicles to pick us up, but we didn't. I don't know what my teammates were thinking about, or what thoughts carried them through the day, but I do know that thoughts of home and of the community of cancer fighters that pray and hope for our safe travel made it possible for me to keep going despite all the pain and doubt.
That day was my hardest test, and after passing it, I'm ready for Colorado!
*****
In Syracuse we were going to stay in an RV park, but an ensuing lightning storm made it too dangerous to camp. We instead stayed in a high school gym, which still reeked of Kansas-cattle. The school didn't have showers. Since our bodies were covered in grit and grime, we became desperate pretty quickly.
18 of us ended up bathing in the RV park using a single garden house with freezing cold water and one bottle of Dr. Bronner's organic soap--in the middle of a lightning storm. My friend Peter took some pictures, which I'll have to post soon.
Our arrival in Colorado was welcomed by pleasant weather. And, even though our first stop, Las Animas, looked a lot like Kansas, the mere aspect of being closer to the Rockies made the unchanging scenery seem more brilliant and beautiful.
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