Florida to Maine Bike Trip - FINAL DAY - 1,343 Miles Traveled

To my friends and family...and friends of friends....touched by cancer - by multiple myeloma, leiomyosarcoma, bladder, breast and prostate - this 1,300 mile bike trip was a small tribute to YOUR courage which keeps you 'climbing the hills and covering the distance" of life each and every day.

It's early Wednesday morning - the day after Marty and I finished  our 1,300 mile plus biking trip from Florida to Maine - and the final 75 miles to Nubble Lighthouse in York, Maine.  I'm up early and ready to ride.  But there is no ride today and no bike.  My Specialized is in Marty's van....arriving July 11th.  Yes, I miss 'her' - which, like my feet and legs and back and hands, held me up for a thousand miles.

How do I NOT get up and ride 100 miles today, as I have done for so many?  I want to ride...and I hope I get to do something like this again and will in time.  Meanwhile, I will learn about derailers and take a spin or two around the hills of Clermont soon.  I will learn about multiple myeloma, too, and what those who have the disease live with.

Less this trek sound like a cake walk, let me speak a little truth!  It was often hard.   Riding for me from Nashua, NH to York, Maine.....was really hard.  I cried - like I'd cried twice before on this journey....once when coming into Red Bank, NJ to meet Marty's brother and SIL, Bruce and Jill.  I was exhausted and just needed to be held.  Bruce became the designated hugger and his dear wife was gracious enough to allow for the  meltdown.  For women who cycle like this alone, being able to have these watershed moments while riding can be cathartic.  No one hears, no one sees and you can sob from your core 'til it's over.  And I did three times in 16 days!  But in Red Bank, NJ, my emotions were in full view and I merely surrendered...  Today I was grateful for the privacy.

The front derailer on my bike kept giving me the same trouble it did in NJ but there was no time to adjust it - not that I even knew how!  As with much of our trip, there were deadlines and people waiting. After it locking up several times, I finally just stayed in my middle gear and prayed the hills would end before long!

                        

Mike Dreyer, like fitness guru Tom Holland in Norfolk, CT., both talented, skilled and strong cyclists who surely are cut from the same cloth and who got us to where we were supposed to be, had a far different interpretation of 'no hills' than I did.   It was not the sweet incline into Nubble about which I'd fantasized!   Mike joined us this last day to be certain we got to our finish line!  He is the genuinely supportive husband of an MM survivor, Jean.  Playfully he would say to me "Get going 'Sistah!" when the clock was ticking.  NOT  that my urinary tract infection was not raging or my bunion not getting pitted further by gravel from the sliced Bontrager.  Not that the chain needed  adjustment or that my saddle sores weren't still annoying!  Nonetheless, these pains are minuscule in comparison to what those I hope to help via this journey face daily.

In the grand scheme of things, I entered this trip as a novice recreational female cyclist with a passion for the sport - a grandmother who did her best with my testosterone twosome today and finished her trip stronger and more savvy. It occurred to me, too, as I fought to get up every mole hill, how Jean, Mike's wife, had climbed her  big disease 'hills' two years ago.  I thought a lot about Jean and the kids (and Carmen who just received her stem cell transplant) those last hours to York.

Will l ever be a climber?  I think not, but I honest to goodness gave those hills everything I had and I did it time and again - smelling the roses on the way down!  Lamaze breathing came in handy often on this trip and the  techniques learned years ago while birthing children now birthed this cycling dream and a greater purpose.  

We reached the lighthouse around 3 pm to the welcome of family and friends, cowbells and banners.  What a meaningful sight for tired eyes.  It took a few minutes for the reality to set in that we had actually done this........thank you Marty for inviting me on this journey and for all the planning you did - it did not go unnoticed, I promise.











Marty, Mike and I  were an hour behind our estimated arrival when I saw 'them'.  My best friend Mike from Harrison, Maine.  It's been decades since I'd moved from Summit Hill with it's wild blueberry fields and mountain vistas - 32 years ago actually.  But there he was and there was Ruth - my dearest friend.  The friend who stood at my side as I gave birth to my youngest child, the woman who tapped maple trees with me and with whom I planted gardens in the thick of Maine's black fly season.  Mike and Ruth babysat my children and I babysat their Lizzy goat!  I am a lifetime away from that simple and beautiful way of life, but on day 17, I was home and it felt like I'd never left.  Marty had ridden in his friend's memory - what a gift.  I would do the same a thousand times over for Mike and Ruth.

....or do the same for my brother, Bruce.  I wasn't sure he was going to be able to make the finish, so when I scanned the crowd and didn't see him, I felt a tinge of sadness but also knew he had tried his best to be there and we'd catch up when I got home to Orlando.  I should have known better!  He and Michele were there. I'd been too dazed to see them initially....but the memory of  seeing their familiar faces in York, Maine is way too sweet.  There is nothing like family and no one like my youngest brother!  I don't think my family of origin initially thought this trip was a terribly sane idea.  I know my father did not!  But to receive Bruce's real time hug at the end of this epic journey, to know he and Michele had born witness to the gratitude expressed by MMRF for  Marty and my efforts and to know that Bruce and Michele  got to visit with some of my new and forever friends adds another layer of richness to this life-defining experience.


Speaking of new forever friends - Alica don't wander too far away, ok!!!!  And I hope it's Colby for Katy, since my SIL so loved her time on that campus.


In truth there really are no words to adequately describe what has happened the past two weeks.  This became a job of sorts to ride such a distance (albeit a fun one!) and I hope my words express gratitude to this body that sustained my efforts.  To help in some small way and to check off a bucket list item was wonderful, yet the gifts I received went far beyond what I gave.  I began this journey with a prayer 'that Life use me well' - whatever that was going to be.  This small request was granted many times over.  To the Multiple Myeloma Foundation - you are my hero's.  To have been able to support you financially and to raise awareness for the work you do was an honor.  I will do more.

In April, as those closest to me know, the company for whom I worked was restructured and my position terminated.   How could I manage this trip with no training?  Could I even finish?  I'd only chatted with Marty a few times since we met at a business function two years ago.  Could we live together for 16 days?  Marty and I had ridden together only once prior to this venue - 30 miles - and he was training.  I knew he would be physically stronger.  Would that be an issue?

I believed then and believe now, though, that this ride was not about finishing first or riding the fastest, though, of course, we did need to get to Maine someday!!!!! Sometimes these stats tug at us, especially for competitors, and of course they did on our trip, too, but for me it was about just plain being able to do something so huge mentally and physically.  Yesterday I received an email from a friend of Marty's, Jeff Hendricks. I don't know Jeff, but he put this amazing adventure into a beautiful perspective and for which I am grateful more than he will know - he said that riding a great distance for a noble cause, as we had done, is a journey of the heart....Yes, Jeff, this trip was just that,  a journey of the heart.  And along the way, I carved out a few muscles and rode a wee faster!

Many of you do not know this and forgive us for intentionally choosing not to share until the end of the ride, but Marty was hit by a car outside of Darien, Georgia our first day.  We decided not to share the accident with you all until the end of our journey - as we didn't want anyone to worry.  He, of course, as you now know, is ok but he was so fortunate to receive only bruising from the car's mirror which popped off grazing his left side that afternoon.  Nonetheless, it shook us up, Marty most of all.  His left arm and side were bruised for many days.  In retrospective it was a good wake up call.  We would pay more attention.  Amazingly, it was an area my father had cited as a reason to reconsider doing this trip because of the biking accidents - he owns land there and was afraid.  He had good reason to be...I hope Darien, Georgia gets a bike lane going north on Rt. 17 before long.

It was faith that I called upon again when I fell the second day leaving the hotel, the bike peddle slicing into my calf as I tried to unsuccessfully get bike and belongings to the van that morning.  Had I been home, I'd have gone to the ER for a few stitches.....instead Bobbie butterflied the cut and I accepted that this new scar would be my 'badge of courage' circa 2012.

I am hoping there is another grand adventure on the horizon, but until that door opens, to all who shared this journey in big and small ways, your hearts were with me on every pedal stroke.   Your names often became my uphill 4 beat mantra - like this, "Jean, Roy, Ruth and Jill." I thought of so many of you so often riding all those solitary miles from Florida to Maine.

Lessons Learned?   Take a chance.  Let go and trust.  Have a purpose. Don't count on loosing weight!  Make a friendship like Marty and Roy had. Take face photos and not endless butt ones:)  Use zinc oxide for saddle sores and Cool Gear for the heat. Be grateful for fast recoveries and have oceans of water available at a moments notice.  Consider going fewer miles in the beginning to shake out problems areas and find solutions early on.  I went far too many days with the saddle sores, which could have been remedied more quickly.  70 miles max each day seems like a good number to allow for the inevitable hiccups that will show up.  Have  people like Betsy Parker and Alicia O'Neil from the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation in your corner.  They treated us like 'rock stars' even though we were not!   Open your eyes to people - like Neil on the NYC ferry to  whom I spoke for merely minutes and who had the capacity and intention to gift generously.  You inspired me Neil to keep showing up as you did that morning.  Accept the gifts from those who offer.  Let go of the ego and walk the damn hill with pride and with the man! Make time to smell the roses, see the sights, feel the rain.  It honest-to-God is glorious out there.

Yes, mostly my take away is that it IS an extraordinarily good world in which we live, filled with truly kind, kind, caring and engaged-in-life people. People who live simply.......or live lavishly.  People who live with multiple myeloma and sarcoma's and other cancers, but who deal graciously with the cards they've been dealt.  In every state, at every turn - from those who opened their home to this weary looking cyclist in need of a bathroom to friends who welcomed me home and welcomed Marty to New England..... from those who poured endless cool, cool water on my sore and less than lovely toes but only saw the beauty in what they had accomplished .......to the first generation American who made sure we could get the bike grease off my hands in his NYC village restaurant.. to my friends who wrote terms of encouragement and pedaled with me every step of the way, if only in their homes and offices.....to my children who never questioned my choice to take this trip and shouted "Yea Mom" every day, sometimes hourly.....they, of anyone, know what it took for me to manage my lower back and foot pain to finish this ride,  to the woman on the Baltimore flight this morning who reached across the aisle with her caring hand ....to Heidi and Jannie and Betsy and Alicia.....to Bruce and Jill who were the right couple at the right time..........

and Tom who was so encouraging in Norwalk, got off his bike and WALKED WITH me up one Norwalk hill (er, ant hill he would say!)......this is the stuff of teamwork......I promise to repay this kindness to another cyclist... Diane and Delores for their spirited and knowledgeable NYC day on bicycles with us......to my family for their contributions that will soon show up in the MMRF bank account.....and all the people who gave us cash along the way in support of the MMRF work..........and to my friend of almost 40 years, Lora, who drove up from Rhode Island because she wouldn't miss this for the world............to each and every person including those I met along the way,  you simply matter to me.

So, here's how it is this Wednesday!  I could have ridden more, which is kind of cool to know about myself.  I can't wait until my bike arrives home so I can privately give credit to all the people who have been a part of this bike's creation and maintenance.  You don't do something like this alone.


Last year I had a serious cycling accident - hit a curb, tossed from this carbon-fiber bike, unconscious and transported to Orlando Regional Medical Center.  While my head sustained the greatest injury, amazingly it was my bike that had to be put back together.  Other than facial swelling and road rash, I had no cuts nor broken bones. The bike's center tube, however, was major mush.   Joey Robinson, a fiber glass guru in Sanford, FL put it back together,  Only once, at the start of this trip did I think to look at how his repair was holding up.  It held up perfectly, Joey, and for your fine craftsmanship, you rock, too!

 

And finally, because they are the treasures of my life, thank you to my children for their love and for making contributions to MMRF.  To my daughter, Peyton, who couldn't wait to celebrate my home coming, a special shout out.  She had  posters and flowers, cards and gifts as well as a spotless house waiting....and she figured out how to find me at the airport!  It is because of her  special needs as a child that I learned about the caring people and wonderful work non-profits offer our communities.  This trip is an extension of my long-ago commitment to help others - as my daughter has been helped along the way.  


While the sunny side of life always has my attention, I, too, know the shadows (and love to paint them!).   But I can say with all certainty after having taken this trip,  that Americans truly are blessed despite crappy diseases, job terminations and everything else that strikes at the core of our well-being.  I don't believe Life as we know it is forever, but I do know without question, that we have this moment....and I know this moment is extraordinarily good.

To it all - to every breath and every dream and especially to each other.  Namaste.    Di