Touched By the Devil & Other Stories from the Big Ride

Dear Friends & Family,

Another cycling season has come to an end.  The Livestrong ride in San Jose this weekend was uh...er...um... memorable, yes, memorable is a good way to put it.

• 4 really cool prizes: The day before the ride, I picked up my registration packet and jersey number.  Your generous donations entitled me to a LiveStrong t-shirt, water bottle, hat and the highly coveted LiveStrong messenger bag.  I stuffed all my booty into my super awesome bag and strutted around the LiveStrong village, making sure that all the other participants took note of my bag.  As they were taking note of my bag, I took note of the fact that everyone except Terry and Nick (my other two Redding Fat Cyclist teammates) had shaved legs.  And everyone was unusually lithe and athletic.  Walking around amongst such freakishly fit people I came to the realization that although it was called a "ride", I had unknowingly entered a "race".  A bike "ride" and a bike "race" are two very different things, a fact that would become apparent the next day.


• 1 amazing dinner: The night before the ride Terry, Nick and I were privileged to attend the fundraising banquet.  We were inspired by the speeches given by cancer survivors and enjoyed a night of meeting our teammates.  Team Fatty won two separate awards that night.  To begin with Elden "Fatty" Nelson won the individual messenger award.  He and his wife, Susan, made this video acceptance speech.  Thanks to you, Team Fatty also won the award for most funds raised.  You can see our team on stage as our captain, Matt, accepts the award and honors Elden and Susan as they fight cancer in a mighty way.  Elden is bald and our team donned bald caps to show our support.  It was a fantastic night and I was proud to be a part of Team Fatty.


• 1 upset stomach: The morning of the ride, I woke up with a disgruntled stomach.  I chalked it up to nerves, ate some breakfast, and joined my team at the starting line.  As the top fundraising team, we began the race ride ahead of all of the other participants.  We were escorted by a police cruiser.  Well, the people who could keep up were escorted by a police cruiser.  Me and my knotty stomach were in the throng of all the other riders within minutes.  My stomach gurgled and churned for the first twenty miles.  At the first rest stop, I spent some quality time in the port-o-potty doing what my friend, Nate, calls "livin' the dream".  I was miserable, but when my stomach realized I wasn't quitting, it settled down.


• 1 windy day: The wind that day was unholy.  I rode into a strong headwind and through wicked cross winds.  The wind was so powerful that rest stop snack tents were blowing over and garbage blew into my mouth as I rode.  Never was there even a hint of tailwind.  It was punishing and it remained that way the entire ride.


• 1 friendly devil: About 25 miles in, I faced my first hill.  It was short and steep.  My legs cranked the pedals and my little heart hammered away.  I walked a portion of the hill and just as I was getting back on The Rocket to face the crest, I saw the devil.  Or at least a man dressed in a red devil suit.  He goes to The Tour of California and other bike races (again proof that I'd mistakenly entered a race) to cheer on the cyclists.  He stood there high-fiving riders as they topped the hill.  He must have seen me walking because when I came by, he placed both of his red painted hands squarely on my buns and gave me a push, calling out "That's what we call a European start."  Uh, then let me just say that Europeans are much friendlier than I'm accustomed to.


• 1 enthusiastic flagger: This by far was the best staffed ride I've participated in.  Volunteers showed up in droves to work rest stops, flag riders in the right direction, drive SAG wagons, and perform a myriad of other tasks.  I gave one particular course flagger a good shock at around mile 40.  A left turn took riders to the 65 mile course.  Straight ahead led to the 100 mile course.  The flagger took one look at me and immediately started flagging me left.  I shook my head.  He flagged more vehemently.  I again shook my head.  He continued flagging and as I rode by, I yelled "I'm doing the century."  He shook his head and in one last ditch effort tried to flag me left.  I just smiled, well aware of the fact that I didn't look like any of the other people riding the century.


• 2 circling buzzards: What would a ride be without at least one bird story?  As I was still chuckling at the dumbfounded flagger, 2 buzzards circled overhead.  2 skinny cyclists came from behind and rode next to me for a few minutes.  They commented on the buzzards.  I replied that I was moving so slowly that the buzzards thought I was dead.  They laughed, made a remark about how funny Team Fatty is, and then left me in the dust with the birds.


• 3 times I walked The Rocket: I walked portions of 2 small hills and at mile 7o faced a 12-18% climb.  I pedaled until my little heart began to actually ache.  I got off my bike and walked up the hill.  Nick was with me and we clomped along in our bike shoes, pausing every few steps to rest.  We waved off about 10 SAG wagons, insisting that we were fine, absolutely fine.  We took off our cycling shoes and huffed up the hill in our socks.  It seemed logical at the time, okay?  "No, really, we're fine." we'd pant at each SAG wagon.  The hill was only 1.9 miles and we were sure the top was near.  My heart ached and even squeaked, but we plodded on.  Then we came upon another Team Fatty cyclist getting into a SAG wagon.  We asked how much further to the top.  "Oh about another mile and a half.  Then you go downhill and then back up the steepest pitch."  the SAG lady chirped.  My head drooped.  I couldn't walk another mile and a half.  My heart physically couldn't do it.  I fought back hot tears, overcome by shame.  Then in the midst of my pity party, I thought of Susan.  Susan who has strength in ways that I will never comprehend.  Susan who graciously accepts help for tasks like getting out of bed and getting dressed.  Part of strength is knowing when to accept help.  I swallowed my pride and rode in the SAG wagon to the top of the hill.


• 1 tweet from Lance Armstrong: At around mile 85, another cyclist told me Lance Armstrong had twittered a message to all the San Jose cyclists.  This is a direct quote: "Thanks 2 everyone in San Jose 4 the Livestrong Challenge! I was there last year and the course kicked my @$$!!! Appreciate all the support!!"  What!?!  Lance Armstrong had a tough time on this ride?  I couldn't help but wonder what the heck I, a big, wimpy, wannabe cyclist, was doing on a ride like this.


• 14 bottles of water/Gatorade: People often ask about what I consume on rides like these.  On this particular ride I drank 14 bottles of water and/or lemon lime Gatorade.  I ate 1 1/4 pb& j, 2 bananas, 3 handfuls of gummy bears, 1 slice of peach, 1 handful of grapes, and 1 Clif bar.  After the ride I ate dinner.  Twice.


• 90 miles: The course was actually only 95 miles long and after 5 miles in the SAG wagon, I rode a total of 90 miles at an average speed of 12.5 miles per hour.  I was disappointed with my mileage and my speed, but it turns out those things aren't what this ride was about.


• 22 donors: Thank you Amy & Steve P., Anita J., Carmen L., Chris F., Christine W., Debbie S., Janet M., Janice L., Jean P., Jeff W., Jill L., Jill S., Katie G., Katie L., Kyra M., Nancy C., Nancy W., North Valley Bank, Peter K., Sara S., Sue H., Tiffany D., Tracy H. and Youth to Youth International.  Your support and generosity made it all worthwhile.


• $1, 790: I'm grateful to know people who eagerly help others in need.  I'm honored to call you friends.


• 9 hours: After starting the ride at the front of the pack Terry and I finished almost dead last 9 hours later.  After gripping my handlebars into the unforgiving wind, I'd lost feeling in 4 of my fingers.  My face stung with the combination of salty sweat and windburn.  My heart labored over ever beat.  It was the most grueling day on a bike I've ever experienced.


• 4 days later: Four days have passed since the ride.  My windburned face is a peeling mess.  My heart is steady again.  I have feeling in 9 fingers and am hopeful that the last one will soon follow suit.  I mentioned earlier that this ride wasn't about miles or speed.  I think Winston Churchhill sums it up best, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”  Thanks for giving from your heart and making my life that much richer.

Fondly,

Alicia