New York City - 3 miles
This is the big pay-off day for the YSC organization. We go through the pomp and circumstance of riding through 2 city blocks to show up at Fox and Friends. They spread the word about their mission and gain awareness, and we’re there after riding all these miles, in full force. We had a rider this year who was in the middle of her chemo treatments. Can you believe it? Talk about the strength of these women. We had another rider who is an extremely young survivor. She’s training for an Ironman Triathlon, and after riding all those miles each day, she would then get off her bike and run 5 miles. Can you believe it? We had women who are now 2-3 times a survivor, and they were still riding this whole thing with such stamina. Can you believe it? You can’t beat the stories here. They’re all amazingly beautiful women with hearts of gold and the will of steel. I’m glad to know them.
Many thanks to my friends and family who donated their dollars and kind words of support. You all mean much to me.
Showing posts with label Cycling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cycling. Show all posts
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tour de Pink: Rider’s Log - Day 3
Trenton, NJ to Lebanon, NJ – 47 miles
It was the last day with any significant mileage. The sun was shining from the get go, and it turned out to be one of the most beautiful days and one of the most beautiful routes I’ve ever ridden. It was almost entirely backroads that went by farms, crossed little brooks, and passed through quaint towns. The hills were minor in comparison to the first day and a half, and it made those hills just a faint memory. I’m sure that it was probably at this point in time last year when I thought, hey, yeah, I’m totally going to do this again next year!
Earlier in the ride, Frankie Andreu, a retired professional cyclist, rode with us for a while. Instead of letting testosterone take over and treating this ride like it was a race, he rode with the cycling proletariat the whole time. He flagged down the SAG wagons for folks who needed help, he pushed others up the hills – he was just an all around great guy. On this last day, we hit a short, steep hill, and I geared down. He was checking out my gearing and said, “You should gear all the way down to the granny gear.” I said, “No, I don’t like going there.” He shrugged his shoulders and went on his way. After he rode out of earshot, Jill said, “So, the professional rider tells you to gear down, and you totally blow him off.” What can I say…
When we rolled into Deer Park, the destination of the day, it was one big party. Folks were barbecuing, hanging around, laying in the grass, it was great. And I promptly flung myself onto the massage table…
It was the last day with any significant mileage. The sun was shining from the get go, and it turned out to be one of the most beautiful days and one of the most beautiful routes I’ve ever ridden. It was almost entirely backroads that went by farms, crossed little brooks, and passed through quaint towns. The hills were minor in comparison to the first day and a half, and it made those hills just a faint memory. I’m sure that it was probably at this point in time last year when I thought, hey, yeah, I’m totally going to do this again next year!
Earlier in the ride, Frankie Andreu, a retired professional cyclist, rode with us for a while. Instead of letting testosterone take over and treating this ride like it was a race, he rode with the cycling proletariat the whole time. He flagged down the SAG wagons for folks who needed help, he pushed others up the hills – he was just an all around great guy. On this last day, we hit a short, steep hill, and I geared down. He was checking out my gearing and said, “You should gear all the way down to the granny gear.” I said, “No, I don’t like going there.” He shrugged his shoulders and went on his way. After he rode out of earshot, Jill said, “So, the professional rider tells you to gear down, and you totally blow him off.” What can I say…
When we rolled into Deer Park, the destination of the day, it was one big party. Folks were barbecuing, hanging around, laying in the grass, it was great. And I promptly flung myself onto the massage table…
Tour de Pink: Rider’s Log - Day 2
Valley Forge to Trenton, NJ – 80 miles
It was cold again in the morning. They warned the first 40 miles would be very hilly. Again. I was not happy about it. You know it’s bad when the kindest person you know yells, “No way, you GOTTA be F**CKING KIDDING me!!” when you come upon yet another hill, with its menacing laugh.
This time, Kathy, a first-time Tour de Pink rider, rode my pace. She’s a strong rider, but she didn’t want to kill herself trying to chase down our core group, so she was kind enough to hang with me. She was a great cheerleader when I lapsed into moments of bad attitude. Those generally happened when I was coming upon a hill, but surprisingly, the bad went away as I climbed the hill. It’s the beauty of biking. Just when you think you’ll never ride again, you either get to the top of the hill and are well rewarded with a nice downhill, or in this case, you just get into a zen moment and you’re at peace with churning it out to the top. It’s really strange.
On this route, there was a particularly steep downhill. The issue is that it’s pocked with all sorts of holes. Before we left for this portion of the ride, Karen told me I should seriously consider braking on the way down. I gotta tell you, though, I love speed… I did end up hitting the brakes once going down. I guess I would have to agree that it was kinda dangerous. This hill was also the indication that the very hilly parts of the entire ride were behind us. It made me love that downhill even more.
From that point on, we rode alongside the Delaware River. Just beautiful. And flat. Kathy and I hooked up with a guy named Tom. He’s 6’9” and looks like he should have a blue ox named Babe standing at his side at all times. We rode into the last rest stop and did a little too much vacationing there. We all practically got full body massages, but boy, did it make the rest of the ride much more enjoyable.
We rode in late afternoon, and this is the part I can do without. The rest of the Hershey guys are all fresh and showered with a beer in hand, hanging around the lobby of the hotel waiting for the rest of us slow pokes to ride in, and then they say, “Hey, let’s take a picture!” Yeah, you look good, and I look like I just rode 80 miles. I swear… Despite all that, I love those guys.
It was cold again in the morning. They warned the first 40 miles would be very hilly. Again. I was not happy about it. You know it’s bad when the kindest person you know yells, “No way, you GOTTA be F**CKING KIDDING me!!” when you come upon yet another hill, with its menacing laugh.
This time, Kathy, a first-time Tour de Pink rider, rode my pace. She’s a strong rider, but she didn’t want to kill herself trying to chase down our core group, so she was kind enough to hang with me. She was a great cheerleader when I lapsed into moments of bad attitude. Those generally happened when I was coming upon a hill, but surprisingly, the bad went away as I climbed the hill. It’s the beauty of biking. Just when you think you’ll never ride again, you either get to the top of the hill and are well rewarded with a nice downhill, or in this case, you just get into a zen moment and you’re at peace with churning it out to the top. It’s really strange.
On this route, there was a particularly steep downhill. The issue is that it’s pocked with all sorts of holes. Before we left for this portion of the ride, Karen told me I should seriously consider braking on the way down. I gotta tell you, though, I love speed… I did end up hitting the brakes once going down. I guess I would have to agree that it was kinda dangerous. This hill was also the indication that the very hilly parts of the entire ride were behind us. It made me love that downhill even more.
From that point on, we rode alongside the Delaware River. Just beautiful. And flat. Kathy and I hooked up with a guy named Tom. He’s 6’9” and looks like he should have a blue ox named Babe standing at his side at all times. We rode into the last rest stop and did a little too much vacationing there. We all practically got full body massages, but boy, did it make the rest of the ride much more enjoyable.
We rode in late afternoon, and this is the part I can do without. The rest of the Hershey guys are all fresh and showered with a beer in hand, hanging around the lobby of the hotel waiting for the rest of us slow pokes to ride in, and then they say, “Hey, let’s take a picture!” Yeah, you look good, and I look like I just rode 80 miles. I swear… Despite all that, I love those guys.
Tour de Pink: Rider’s Log - Day 1
Hershey’s Chocolate World to Valley Forge Park – 85 miles
The morning of October 3 was brisk. Folks came in wearing tights and jackets. I was glad I had my arm warmers, but despite earnest searching, I still couldn’t find my tights, so the legs were simply sacrificed. The morning’s festivities were great – a sea of pink and chocolate brown jerseys on folks who had come from all over the country, all riding for the same purpose – the eradication of breast cancer.
Last year, I had met a core group of gals that I became rather close with. This year, Courtney had a baby (hallelujah!), so she was excused. Chris and Sara, I don’t know what was going on there, but they tell me they’re in for next year. Karen came back, and I was so excited to be riding and rooming with her. This year, though, she swapped in her mountain bike for a fancy new racing bike. I was a little scared.
When we started to ride, the sky was overcast, and I gotta say, I was pretty cold. But if there’s anything I hate, it’s riding hot, so I was pretty happy, all in all.
The first 20 miles was pretty familiar. I had been on several training rides with two other Hershey riders, and we explored the backroads of Hershey quite a bit. A big hill here and there, but for the most part, I felt good. Then again, I always feel good the first few miles of any ride. It’s the last few that are questionable.
The thing about Day 1, is that you’re riding 85 miles of a very hilly route. It’s just killer. At about mile 40, it turned into hill after hill. There were times I would just get over a hill and would be so happy about it, only to see another hill looming before me. If a hill were alive, it would laugh at me in an evil, menacing manner. In fact, I might have heard something like that ringing in my ears…
At mile 55, I seriously lagged behind my group of friends. You know why? Because I suck at climbing hills. While I’m the queen of screaming down a hill, there was just not enough downhill on this course to help me keep up with everyone else. As I struggled up a massive hill, I berated myself for being so lazy when I was training. I would ride on Saturdays with the Lancaster Bike Club, limiting myself to rolling hills and riding with the C riders. And boy, was I feeling good about riding in the front of the pack of the C riders. Turns out that my friends are B riders who are good at very hilly routes. Hmm. Kinda tough to keep up with that. But I tried, and I was paying for it.
Every so often, a SAG wagon would come by with someone ringing a cow bell, a typical rally cry for bike races. I would immediately have two thoughts. 1 – I totally need to flag them down and get in. 2 – I’m totally going for the ringing-the-cow-bell-riding-in-the-SAG-wagon job next year…
We rolled into the hotel at 3:45PM that afternoon, and I promptly flung myself onto the massage table that was set up right on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. That was nice.
My summary for the day was captured in an email to a co-worker that evening, “Here’s how tired I am. I’m doing things that I would typically NEVER do - like taking a bath in a not-so-clean hotel bathroom, or laying down on a not-so-clean hotel comforter. I don’t care what kind of stains are on it. I’m happy to be laying down.”
The morning of October 3 was brisk. Folks came in wearing tights and jackets. I was glad I had my arm warmers, but despite earnest searching, I still couldn’t find my tights, so the legs were simply sacrificed. The morning’s festivities were great – a sea of pink and chocolate brown jerseys on folks who had come from all over the country, all riding for the same purpose – the eradication of breast cancer.
Last year, I had met a core group of gals that I became rather close with. This year, Courtney had a baby (hallelujah!), so she was excused. Chris and Sara, I don’t know what was going on there, but they tell me they’re in for next year. Karen came back, and I was so excited to be riding and rooming with her. This year, though, she swapped in her mountain bike for a fancy new racing bike. I was a little scared.
When we started to ride, the sky was overcast, and I gotta say, I was pretty cold. But if there’s anything I hate, it’s riding hot, so I was pretty happy, all in all.
The first 20 miles was pretty familiar. I had been on several training rides with two other Hershey riders, and we explored the backroads of Hershey quite a bit. A big hill here and there, but for the most part, I felt good. Then again, I always feel good the first few miles of any ride. It’s the last few that are questionable.
The thing about Day 1, is that you’re riding 85 miles of a very hilly route. It’s just killer. At about mile 40, it turned into hill after hill. There were times I would just get over a hill and would be so happy about it, only to see another hill looming before me. If a hill were alive, it would laugh at me in an evil, menacing manner. In fact, I might have heard something like that ringing in my ears…
At mile 55, I seriously lagged behind my group of friends. You know why? Because I suck at climbing hills. While I’m the queen of screaming down a hill, there was just not enough downhill on this course to help me keep up with everyone else. As I struggled up a massive hill, I berated myself for being so lazy when I was training. I would ride on Saturdays with the Lancaster Bike Club, limiting myself to rolling hills and riding with the C riders. And boy, was I feeling good about riding in the front of the pack of the C riders. Turns out that my friends are B riders who are good at very hilly routes. Hmm. Kinda tough to keep up with that. But I tried, and I was paying for it.
Every so often, a SAG wagon would come by with someone ringing a cow bell, a typical rally cry for bike races. I would immediately have two thoughts. 1 – I totally need to flag them down and get in. 2 – I’m totally going for the ringing-the-cow-bell-riding-in-the-SAG-wagon job next year…
We rolled into the hotel at 3:45PM that afternoon, and I promptly flung myself onto the massage table that was set up right on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. That was nice.
My summary for the day was captured in an email to a co-worker that evening, “Here’s how tired I am. I’m doing things that I would typically NEVER do - like taking a bath in a not-so-clean hotel bathroom, or laying down on a not-so-clean hotel comforter. I don’t care what kind of stains are on it. I’m happy to be laying down.”
Monday, August 4, 2008
Rider's Log - 080208
After all the traveling I've been doing with work, I really had to get into training for the Hershey - NYC ride that's going down in early October. Somehow, walking the hills of San Fran just isn't the same.
Back in town, I hit the road with the Lancaster Bike Club. 42R 13 C. That means, 42 miles in rolling terrain with a 13 mph pace. I thought, yeah, I could do that, but I'm sticking with the leader who's supposed to pace-set at 13.
In past rides, I found myself starting off quickly, keeping pace with the front group. What was comfortable at first would quickly turn into a dilemma by mile 15. I wouldn't be able to keep up with the group as easily, but the trailing group was so far behind that I was worried I'd end up in cycling purgatory - not knowing where I was in rural Lancaster. Commence torture because I'll be damned if I get dropped and lost. I have too much to do on a Saturday!
Of course, at the very worst, I would just ride up to a nice-looking farm and ask to make a call. If it happened to be an Amish house, I would see if they could buggy-ride me and my bike to a busier intersection where I might find my way.
This ride ended up having a very fast group of riders who I heard ended up averaging 17 mph. Thank goodness I didn't keep up with them. I also heard there was a huge crash. A rider got his tire stuck in a groove that the buggies often leave behind. You can usually ride your way out it. It's not pretty, but at least there's no skin breakage. This time, though, he ended up falling. Right into a grate with a huge concrete curb. I hear there are broken bones, blood, and an ambulance involved. That really sucks.
But what I remember most about the ride, which was otherwise incredibly beautiful and enjoyable, was the beauty of Lancaster country. Anytime I saw a really beautiful site, I would yell, "Postcard Moment!!" I said it a lot that day. It's also the ride that went by a buffalo farm! That's right! Can you believe it? I was enthralled.
There's nothing like riding through Lancaster. As much as I complain to my friends and family that it's not the most cosmopolitan city, there's much to savor and be thankful for. Riding is one of those things.
As we rolled into the parking lot at the finish of our ride, I asked the leader what our average speed was. He was afraid to look. "Because it was way too slow?" I asked. "No," he responded, because I'm afraid it was way too fast..." Turns out we ended with 14.2 mph. Funny, it's usually what I end up with at the end of my rides when I start out too fast and end up dying and cursing the sport. There is something to the Tortoise and the Hare after all.
Back in town, I hit the road with the Lancaster Bike Club. 42R 13 C. That means, 42 miles in rolling terrain with a 13 mph pace. I thought, yeah, I could do that, but I'm sticking with the leader who's supposed to pace-set at 13.
In past rides, I found myself starting off quickly, keeping pace with the front group. What was comfortable at first would quickly turn into a dilemma by mile 15. I wouldn't be able to keep up with the group as easily, but the trailing group was so far behind that I was worried I'd end up in cycling purgatory - not knowing where I was in rural Lancaster. Commence torture because I'll be damned if I get dropped and lost. I have too much to do on a Saturday!
Of course, at the very worst, I would just ride up to a nice-looking farm and ask to make a call. If it happened to be an Amish house, I would see if they could buggy-ride me and my bike to a busier intersection where I might find my way.
This ride ended up having a very fast group of riders who I heard ended up averaging 17 mph. Thank goodness I didn't keep up with them. I also heard there was a huge crash. A rider got his tire stuck in a groove that the buggies often leave behind. You can usually ride your way out it. It's not pretty, but at least there's no skin breakage. This time, though, he ended up falling. Right into a grate with a huge concrete curb. I hear there are broken bones, blood, and an ambulance involved. That really sucks.
But what I remember most about the ride, which was otherwise incredibly beautiful and enjoyable, was the beauty of Lancaster country. Anytime I saw a really beautiful site, I would yell, "Postcard Moment!!" I said it a lot that day. It's also the ride that went by a buffalo farm! That's right! Can you believe it? I was enthralled.
There's nothing like riding through Lancaster. As much as I complain to my friends and family that it's not the most cosmopolitan city, there's much to savor and be thankful for. Riding is one of those things.
As we rolled into the parking lot at the finish of our ride, I asked the leader what our average speed was. He was afraid to look. "Because it was way too slow?" I asked. "No," he responded, because I'm afraid it was way too fast..." Turns out we ended with 14.2 mph. Funny, it's usually what I end up with at the end of my rides when I start out too fast and end up dying and cursing the sport. There is something to the Tortoise and the Hare after all.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Tour de Pink!!
Riding 220 miles from Hershey, PA to New York City makes people's jaws drop when I tell them it's what I did last fall, and it is what I will do again this coming September.
I'm riding the Tour de Pink. It's a Hershey's-sponsored ride that benefits the Young Survival Coalition, a non-profit organization that helps young women battle breast cancer.
Last year, I met Karen and Courtney, among many other wonderful folks, who are cancer survivors. Their stories are inspirational, and we remain good friends, looking forward to riding the tour together again this year.
Last week, I got together with Karen and Courtney, both of whom live in New York, and they told me about this site-- http://www.christinebenjaminphoto.com/. Christine is a photographer and rider, who is a survivor of breast cancer. Among her other works, she now respectfully photographs women in various stages of their journey against breast cancer. At first, the images are jarring. In a society that is obsessed with perfectly sculpted women's bodies, there is also the harsh reality of life. Some women get sick, and their bodies turn on themselves. But they are no less beautiful. No less powerful. And these pictures show they are even more impactful in life.
If you'd like to donate and help sponsor my ride, click on the right under "My Fave Sites." Thanks.
I'm riding the Tour de Pink. It's a Hershey's-sponsored ride that benefits the Young Survival Coalition, a non-profit organization that helps young women battle breast cancer.
Last year, I met Karen and Courtney, among many other wonderful folks, who are cancer survivors. Their stories are inspirational, and we remain good friends, looking forward to riding the tour together again this year.
Last week, I got together with Karen and Courtney, both of whom live in New York, and they told me about this site-- http://www.christinebenjaminphoto.com/. Christine is a photographer and rider, who is a survivor of breast cancer. Among her other works, she now respectfully photographs women in various stages of their journey against breast cancer. At first, the images are jarring. In a society that is obsessed with perfectly sculpted women's bodies, there is also the harsh reality of life. Some women get sick, and their bodies turn on themselves. But they are no less beautiful. No less powerful. And these pictures show they are even more impactful in life.
If you'd like to donate and help sponsor my ride, click on the right under "My Fave Sites." Thanks.
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