The Ride To Conquer cancer Part 3: “I might only have 1 match, but I can make an explosion…” (Fight Song – Rachel Platten)

Aug 8, 2015

We were a bit worried the night before that we might sleep in because we only had our phones as alarms – and weren’t sure if the battery would be ok overnight. We needn’t have worried – as camp started to wake up, there was no way anyone could sleep in ha. We woke up and as soon as I was coherent enough to form a thought, I could feel the excitement start building. Today was the final day!! I said a little prayer that I could stand up after the previous day’s 113k ride…and we threw on clothes and quickly headed out to eat then come back to pack. The breakfast area was buzzing with people waking up and chatting about the day to come. I wasn’t as nervous about starting – I was actually itching to go – but I did briefly wonder “what if I can’t finish?”. The thought left as quick as it came. It was just impossible to have lingering doubt that morning surrounded by my teammates. And Phil.

They had gotten me this far, they’d get me the rest of the way.

Nigel got a team pic at the start line and off we went! it was 7:30am and I was pretty wide awake considering! About a kilometer or so in, you start to go up a huge hill out of Okotoks…we joked maybe that’s their way of making sure everyone is awake!

 That first stretch to the rest stop seemed to take forever! I was so relieved when we got to Black Diamond…only to discover the rest stop wasn’t there!! It was at Turner Valley! I knew from the reverse route that it was only 3k away – but that 3k suddenly felt like 30. A few teammates had mentioned how the first part of the day goes by fast and the very last stretch because you know you are coming to the finish line but that the middle was tough…So I was a bit worried that I found the ride to the first pit stop so long…but was instantly reassured when we met up with other One Aimers at the rest stop who felt the same! We ran into Keri and Cam who were riding together again that day and we all decided to ride together for the day. Cam is another One Aimer who can do no wrong in my books. When I first saw One Aim all that time ago at The Mall, and they reached out to me after via my blog, Cam signed up for my Run For The Cure team. He hadn’t even met me, yet he signed up to run on my team! I got to know him and his awesome wife Keri a little over the summer when I would meet up after the odd Tues night team rides to have a beer (in all my bald glory). When the time came for The Run, Cam ran with me the whole 5k – which took me over 45min to complete. He could run a 5k in his sleep… It was like Matt’s action of putting my name on his flag – he was instantly raised to hero status in my eyes. So the fact that we were now going to ride the rest of the final day of my very first Ride to Conquer -  together - was immensely special to me. Especially since this was their 5th year – the year they got their Golden helmets. On your 5th Ride To Conquer Ride you get a Golden Bike Helmet to commemorate your 5th year. So if you’re ever watching and see people with Gold bike helmets, you know they have done at least 5 Ride To Conquers!

When I was training, I had felt the benefit of “drafting”, where you ride about a tire length behind the person ahead of you. It makes them work harder, and makes it much easier for you to recover and catch your breath, even though you are still pedaling. Phil has let me draft him a time or two, but we are still learning how to do it properly, so you get the full benefit. As we left Turner Valley onto the next rest stop (which was near Millarville) we were hitting that long stretch of road that, the previous day, felt like was never ending. The good thing was this time it was a gradual decline, so it was a much easier go.  Cam and Keri are good at drafting – so they took us under their wing, and off we went. There were some long stretches where we were just flying! It was amazing! I was getting a bit tired, but as long as I stayed “on” the wheel in front of me, I could keep up no problem. Cam was at the front for the most part, and working the hardest. A few times I “fell off” the wheel ahead and noticed that it significantly decreased my speed and significantly increased how hard I had to work. For me drafting was not about speeding through the Ride (you’re not actually supposed to draft – but I think that’s because when you get a lot of people drafting who are going crazy fast it just can get less safe if they are not careful with that amount of other riders on the road) I’m not sure how I would have made it through day 2 without drafting, just so I could catch my breath. It was about recovery for me, not speed.

By the time we hit the 2nd rest stop, it was starting to get hot again. The day before I had forgot to put sunscreen on my legs…and got a terrible looking riders burn!! The burn lines…uh tan lines, were awful (though admittedly funny), and my lower thighs were hot to the touch all night long and blazing red. So I was making sure I slathered sunscreen on at each rest stop – all over any exposed skin. Rookie mistake I guess! After grabbing a quick bite and some water, we were off once again. This next stretch would take us just past Priddis to the Lunch stop…We all left together, but as we neared Priddis I found myself on my own (I was getting tired by this point) Phil and I got separated when he stopped to help Keri with her lost waterbottle. Phil thought I was ahead of him, when in fact I was just behind so he raced to the Lunch stop so we could ride in together…as I was nearing the Priddis downhill, I was trying to catch up to Phil and the gang. There was a rider behind me, who kept getting pretty close, so I was pushing myself to keep ahead and not get in their way . I finally moved over so they could pass me, but she followed behind me…as we were about to go down the hill she called out “I’m just trying to read your sign”. Oh! As we got to the bottom of the hill, she came up beside me and said “I just read your sign. You are an inspiration!” and took off.

I cried all the way to the lunch stop.

When I got to the lunch stop I had just gotten my tears under control. I was hot and hungry, and emotional likely because I was so tired. I also knew the hardest part of The Ride was coming up. I looked down to see where to put my bike, and saw Emily. I wasn’t expecting to see her.

I burst into fresh tears (ya, I must have been really tired….)

I tried so hard to stop them because I didn’t want Emily to be upset or confused as to why I was crying. But I couldn’t. The just kept spilling over. So I just hugged her tight, and  kept repeating to her “they’re just happy tears Emmy, Mommy is so happy you are here…they are just happy tears,  don’t worry, Mommy’s fine, I’m just so happy to see you”. She just smiled, hugged me back just as tight, and said “I know Mommy”. And patted my back.  Which naturally produced more tears lol

Quite a lot of the One Aimers were at lunch that day, as were Phil’s parents. We chatted as we ate and tried to stay out of the sun to cool off. I was mentally preparing myself for the next most challenging part. It had the “Bragg Creek Hill” which is a monster of a hill. I heard stories how last year some people got sick at the top! Yikes!! Drafting would not help me here – hills are kinda “everyone for themselves” because everyone goes at their own pace on hills – especially challenging ones – otherwise you might not make it up. Most of the hills on The Ride I met up with Phil at the top, as he is a stronger rider and could get up faster. I have to say, having Emmy show up with Phil’s parents was a huge boost.

I decided this next stretch would be dedicated to Opa and Ray. I would need to dig deep to get through this next part, and they would be the ones to get me through it.

When I was going through treatment, specifically chemo, I got through it because really, what choice did I have? It was either do chemo, or die. It was horrific but at the time I did what I had to do. But it was one of the hardest summers of my life. For me, and for my family.

When I started to get active while going through chemo, I would dig deep by thinking about how awful chemo was. I’d try to remember the fear every time they put a needle in me and turned on the chemo. I’d force myself to think about how awful I’d feel in the days after. How it was nothing compared to what I was feeling at that moment running, or working out or holding that tricky yoga pose. I’d think of a beach from the  Greek Island from our honeymoon and breath through it, knowing the uncomfortable feeling would end soon and I’d feel great afterwards. That I was choosing to put my body through these aches and pains, whereas for chemo it was not a choice. I’d pep talk myself into visualizing tiny canser cells exploding with each step, each bead of sweat…And man it worked wonders!

But while on the most challenging leg of The Ride, although I started with that mental place, it wasn’t enough. So my thoughts moved to much more powerful motivators.

Opa and Ray.

I thought about Ray sitting in one of the 3 chemo rooms, having drugs pumped into him that would potentially land him in hospital, as they had numerous times throughout his treatment. I thought about him sitting in that blue or green chemo chair, looking out the window at the Tom Baker and likely wishing he were anywhere else but there. Especially since his treatments usually took most of the day to complete. I took that sadness and pain I felt thinking about Ray and turned it into anger, and ultimately energy to keep me going.  I thought about Opa – sweet, sweet Opa - and how he shaved his head so I wouldn’t feel alone when I had to shave mine, even while he was going through his own chemo treatment at the time. I thought about how he must be feeling after making the decision to forgo a more brutal chemo regime because it wasn’t guaranteed to work, and if it did work, wouldn’t be life saving, just life extending but would likely drastically reduce his quality of life. The chemo that was his last option for his worsening prostate canser. I thought about the physical pain he likely faced every day since the canser moved to his bones. Pain he had no choice over and only drugs to help with. My discomfort on the hill was nothing compared to that. Nothing. It truly made me “suck it up”.

I looked only a foot ahead of me and with each pedal stroke, it was Opa. Ray. Opa. Ray. They were my mantra, and before I knew it, I was at the top, and over the (arguably) hardest hill of The Ride! I had a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes and I sent a silent “Thank You” to both Ray and Opa for helping me.

It was also pretty wonderful to be greeted by a dancing Lisa at the top. She was hopping around and cheering all those coming up the hill. Lisa is Martin’s wife, and also a One Aimer who couldn’t participate in this year’s Ride due to surgery. Martin is a One Aimer who organized and put on CANSuffer, as a Ride To Conquer Fundraiser, and who also holds a special place in my heart. Because of his fundraiser, One Aim came into my life. Martin was one of the people who directly reached out to me via my blog at the time. Martin is also a VERY strong rider. He races and has taken part in some of the hardest races in the world. I have to admit, I was a bit intimidated to think of riding with him since he is a whole other class of rider. But he is so incredibly encouraging, and has a heart of gold – I would gladly ride with him anytime (even if he only ever sees “slight inclines” when everyone else sees monster hills ha….). So does Lisa. They are a wonderful couple, and awesome people. They also have the smallest dog in the world…but I digress….

I was much slower all the way to the last pit stop in Bragg Creek. Keri and I pretty much stuck together, and Phil and Cam were ahead of us. There might have been some (or a lot..) of swearing up some of the smaller hills lol  But we made it to Bragg Creek and grabbed quick Gatorade and then had to jet right away because they were opening the road to the motorists, so those who didn’t leave before that had to wait another 20-25 minutes or so…By this time one of Cam’s legs was cramping up pretty bad. We stopped so he could stretch it along the highway leading out of Bragg Creek. He had also grabbed some drugs at the last rest stop. But nothing was working. I was worried he wouldn’t be able to finish. The last leg is mostly all uphill once you turn onto Springbank road all the way to Canada Olympic Park. It’s also over 30k. I asked Cam if he wanted to flag down a vehicle, but he was adamant about continuing. So he started to peddle – with one leg! If I was looking for motivation to keep going, that was it. If Cam was going to attempt it one legged, I sure as hell could finish with two! And if you can believe it, he was still a stronger rider with 1 leg than we were with two!! It really was inspirational to watch him. He never complained. Never asked to stop. He stopped when I needed water, but that was about it.

When we hit the last quasi water stop (was literally just some water jugs on side of road lol) and turned onto Springbank road, we were pedaling along – Cam still hanging on with one leg – when a team of “pro” riders who were riding in a group asked Daryl the medic and fellow One Aim teammate what was going on with Cam. Daryl filled him in: His leg is cramping up , but he doesn’t want to get in a vehicle. He’s determined to finish – even on  one leg”. The rider pointed at Cam and said “that is courage right there”, rode up to Cam, put his hand on Cam’s back, and pushed him all the way up the last remaining hills, till they got to the bottom of the last hill up to COP. The road to the Finish Line. Cam waited for us to catch up (ha! That’s how fast they were going – Cam had to wait for us!)

I have to say that was one of the most memorable parts of the ride for me. It exemplified what the ride was all about. From Cam’s spirit to the other riders’ selfless act of helping a fellow teammate (no he wasn’t a One Aimer but really everyone in the Ride was on one team – Team FUcanser…)

As we neared the spot Cam was waiting for us, we rounded up Elaine and John, Jennie and Dan, Diane, and Brian, and decided to all ride in together. We grabbed Cam and off we went, tackling the last kilometer or so to get us to the Finish (which was natually all uphill lol). I thought about those who had come out to cheer us on at some point during the 2 days – some with signs!– My parents, my kids, Phil’s parents, our friends Tammy, Dave, & Marv. I thought about those names on my flag – their faces, their stories. And I thought about where I was last year and how far Phil and I had come, despite all we had been through. I thought about my teammates who were behind me,  beside me, and those who were waiting ahead of me, at the Finish line.

And then we rounded a corner, and as we were coming down the hill, I could see the Finish Line and the hoards of people cheering!! We made it! 236 kilometers later, we crossed the finish line, with fists pumping in the air and huge smiles across our faces! It truly was an EPIC moment! The adrenaline was pumping and as soon as we stopped, the tears started. I was so overwhelmed with emotion. Kinda like the start all over again, but 100x more.

There were hugs all around. Phil first, obviously, then those we had crossed with and those waiting for us. Then Nigel came over and gave me a huge hug, which I am so happy to say The Calgary Sun caught on camera. I think that picture speaks volumes of the moment. I was crying and I think even Nigel was teared up. It was a very emotional moment. Then I saw Dennis and got a big hug from him too. Dennis is a One Aimer who after hearing about the Mall incident, ran Joe’s Triathalon in my name the summer I was going through treatment. It was the first event I went to to cheer on One Aim and I was touched beyond words that he would do that before he even met me. Then, like Cam, he signed up and ran alongside me at The Run that fall. Another hero in my eyes with a permanent place in my heart.

After Crossing the finish line and hugging my teammates immediately afterwards is something I will never forget. My heart felt like it was going to burst from the happiness and team pride I felt.

When we signed up in October, I had finished chemo but still had surgery and radiation to do. I hardly had any hair and didn’t know how effective the chemo had been. I was terrified of surgery and worried about getting radiation. But we decided we were going to do The 2015 Ride To Conquer no matter what – which is why we signed up before I was done treatment (another silent finger to canser) - and we did it! All our family and friends and coworkers and even strangers who pledged money allowed us to take part in one of the most memorable weekends of our lives. The 2015 Alberta Ride To Conquer raised over 7 milion dollars. Those pledges raised money mostly for research so we can find better ways at fighting canser. So we can have more yellow flags and no riderless bikes. Our training and dedication got us to the start line, but our teammates helped us cross the finish.

I looked up to the sky and thought of my Dad and hoped I did him proud. And hoped he knew that he was not forgotten, and would continue to  be close to my heart every time I got on my bike.

I will never forget my first Ride to Conquer.

And in all our delirium, Phil and I walked (limped?) over to the Sign Up table and signed up for the 2016 Ride…but after that weekend, how could we not??

If you have a few minutes, I put together the below slideshow because there were so many pics from training and The Ride to include in my blog! It doesn't work on mobile phones for some reason, but will work on a computer.

The Ride To Conquer cancer: If it doesn't challenge you, it doesn't change you - Part 2 (of 3!)

Aug 7, 2015

I’m surprised I didn’t swallow any bugs with the huge open mouthed smile that was plastered on my face. We were really doing it!! The team had told us about the surge of adrenaline that you get at the start of the Ride and to just watch your pace because you don’t want to tire out shortly after you’re out of the gate…I think my surge of adrenaline lasted all the way to the first pit stop lol. We had stopped to help Reece who got a flat tire 6k into the ride – but he and Phil told me to go ahead and they’d catch up..they are both much stronger riders than I so I carried on because I figured I’d just slow them down once they were playing catch up. I waited for them at the first pit stop, which was just over 15K into the Ride.

I almost cried again as I pulled into the first rest stop. There were all these people cheering and whistling and holding signs along the path into the stop. Some were volunteers who were dressed up in all kinds of crazy garb, some were just regular people out cheering on the riders, holding signs for “their person”! I saw my teammate Keri and we chatted excitedly (well maybe it was me doing the excited chatting lol) and used the port a potty’s and grabbed some Gatorade and snacks. A number of our teammates told us they stop at all the pit stops – even if it was only 5 minutes - and grab either something to drink or eat. So we decided we were going to do that too. Since being diagnosed I’ve been uber aware of my sugar intake. Normally I wouldn’t drink even the little cups they had of Gatorade – but knowing all the energy I’d be using, I had a small cup of Gatorade at each stop. I also filled up my water bottle with the nice cold water they had there. It’s incredibly well set up. You are supported the whole way – there are support vehicles you can flag down and there’s “sweep vehicles” that pick up any stragglers and bring them to the next pit stop after a certain time. You are never truly alone.

As I was waiting for Phil and Reece, I was asked if I could be filmed by the Ride To Conquer crew being asked some questions about the Ride. They asked why I was riding and how I was finding the Ride so far. It’s funny because I can string words together when I write my blog, but being put on the spot I answered their questions but later thought “why did I say that and why didn’t I say this??” The rest of my teammates had carried on and I was still waiting for Phil and Reece. I started to wonder if maybe they had stopped in and we had missed each other?? I texted Phil telling him I was still at the rest stop and hoped they were just running behind and not that they had already left…There were less and less people stopping and there were only a handful of people still at the rest stop when Phil finally showed up! I was so relieved!!

The thing about the longer rides is it becomes a mental thing. I’m good until about 60k…then I start getting tired, emotional and doubt my ability. Phil is my champion. He soothes and pushes and encourages me, long past the point when I’d normally stop. He has become a strong rider but I never feel intimidated when we ride together – I feel supported. I’ll go on a challenging ride with him – or even suggest a challenging route - without even thinking about it – whereas with anyone else I’d be worried about slowing them down or not being able to keep up. I know that as long as Phil is there, we’ll finish whatever we set out to do.  Even just riding separate those few km I didn’t like it. We set out on this canser path together, and trained together and now I wanted to ride it, and finish it as we started - together. I decided then and there if he had to stop again, I would stop with him.

So my face probably lit up when I saw him pulling into the stop.  We could see the sweep vehicle coming, and hopped on our bikes after Phil hit the bathroom and pedalled off, determined to catch up with the tail end of our teammates.

The route was gorgeous. It was just us, the road and the big Alberta sky. Open land all around us, with the mountains in the distance. Talk about amazing. It had started to warm up a bit too. The next stop was just past Bragg Creek so we had quite a ways to go…

That’s when it started to happen. A few riders as they passed us or as we passed them shouted out “keep it up Cindy!” or “Good Job Cindy!”. I turned thinking it was One Aimers. It wasn’t. My immediate thought was “oh man I wish I was better at remembering names” although they did not look familiar. Every rider has a “license plate” on the back of their bike which has their name. After a few more times of it happening, I realised people were calling out my name from reading it on my plate…It took a few more to realise it was because of my yellow flag.

My eyes teared up at this realisation. And it gave a little extra motivation to get up those hills.

Phil started to mimic those other riders, encouraging other survivors as we passed them. But then he also encouraged those who were having a rough go getting up hills, or looked really tired. I never said anything to him, but it made me smile every time.

I think the Ride brings out the best in people.

As we rode the long road (highway) into Bragg Creek, the cars were backed up because they had shut down part of the road where the cyclists were crossing the road to go up the hill to the next pit stop. I wondered briefly if the motorists were annoyed. And then I heard people cheering out of their windows. And whistling. And clapping. I started grinning more. Then we got to Bragg Creek town where there was a cheering section set up – tons of supporters with signs and balloons and kids…I was getting a bit emotional seeing them and knowing we were oh so close to the next pit stop. They cheered loudly as we passed them, even though we didn’t know any of the people cheering. My grin got bigger.

Those cheering sections are awesome. They are placed in the perfect spots to give you that boost to just make it that little bit further. That one was at the bottom of a hill so I got a little burst of energy going up the hill. I knew we were getting close to the next stop so I put my head down and just concentrated on getting up the hill.

And then I could see all the crazy coloured volunteers up a ways – waving flags and cheering, which told us we were at the next pit stop! We rode in and saw One Aim bikes so we put ours with the rest and went off in search of food, drink and our comrades. We ran into Elaine and Jennie who are both survivors. Elaine is a 30 plus year survivor, a huge inspiration to me and she is the one who put her arm around me last year when I balled through the Opening ceremonies. Jennie is a 4 plus years breast canser survivor, who carries a BRCA mutation. She was diagnosed when her 3 kids were little(r)  and she had to go through reconstruction and all that fun stuff…she is an amazing, kind woman close in age to myself, who has shared her story with me and offered to answer any questions I might have that she might be able to answer as I go down a similar path as she did. Her boyfriend Dan is incredibly supportive and just as wonderful – we get along so well with them. They were doing the Ride together this year.

After getting delayed, I was so happy to run into them!! We thought maybe we would be so far behind that we had missed everyone, so were glad we caught up to some teammates. It’s really  hard to judge where you are in relation to everyone else because everyone rides at their own pace and there is a pretty big span between the first riders and the last.

Then we were off. We rode a good part of the next bit off and on with Jennie and Dan. We had a good bit of straight road with a slight incline, then down the huge hill that would be one of the most challenging to go back up the next day.

As we were riding along a straight stretch, we passed by a bald woman sitting by the road at the end of a driveway, obviously in treatment, with a Thank You sign. I don’t know if I was getting tired, or the heat was getting to me, but I got an immediate lump in my throat and a few tears spilled out. It immediately brought me back to why we were doing what we were doing. This ride wasn’t just about my story. It was also about the many, many others coming up behind me, going through the same, if not worse, hell that I had been through.

We had some challenging hills on our way to the lunch spot (near Millarville) I made it up every single one – some in my last gear, pedalling slower than a 90 year old with a walker…but I made it up and didn’t have to get off my bike. That was kind of my own personal goal for this ride…it didn’t matter how long it took to complete, but I wanted to not only complete the ride, but complete it on my bike. I didn’t want to get off and walk, or get into a support vehicle. So many things can happen when you’re out on the road, so although it was a reasonable goal, it was by no means guaranteed. But I needed something to aim for, aside from the finish line. So that was it. I think the handful of Skittles I ate prior to each hill helped ha.

By the time we got to the lunch stop, it was HOT. The sun was beating down and there were hardly any clouds in the sky. It was a beautiful, hot Aug day. We found some teammates, some food and some shade. As we ate all I could think was we were half way done day 1 – give or take a few km…images of ice cold beer started to float about in my head as I thought about arriving into Camp…

We felt pretty good leaving lunch. We were riding from just near Millarville to Black Diamond...We had driven most of it when we camped a few weeks ago at Sandy McNabb so I kinda had an idea what was coming up, but on a bike is very different than behind the wheel of a vehicle….

It kinda looks flatish when you’re driving. I can tell you – it’s NOT! It’s a long, gradual incline, with a couple of dips down…I have to say I found it pretty challenging. We were hitting that 60k plus mark so in hindsight I should have known the ride would start to get challenging from an energy perspective for me, but it still surprised me. I think mostly because there weren’t any huge hills. It just seemed to go on. And on. And on….It felt like a never-ending road..with each bend I kept hoping to see the sign for Turner Valley…but around each bend was just more road!

As the heat and the tiredness got to me I found myself getting emotional. I thought about Sarah who would give anything to feel the tiredness and heat I was feeling at that moment if it meant being alive. I thought about Opa who had created a bucket list because his prostate cancer had stopped responding to treatment and progressed to his bones. I thought about Ray who did not get the news he was hoping when he finished treatment and went back for scan results a few months later. The cancer was still there, so he was going through more chemo, which was brutal on his body. Along with those thoughts, every now and again my flag would flap in the wind – like an auditory reminder that I wasn’t alone and found the drive to keep me going. I also had my cheerleader, Phil who could probably see I was slower than usual. Finally, we saw the “Black Diamond 3k” sign and it suddenly seemed like nothing! We knew it would be mostly downhill. I was so very happy to arrive at that rest stop!! And guess who we ran into – none other than Nigel! Talk about a boost when you need  it! He had already arrived at camp (he and Mike and a few of them were actually the very FIRST riders to arrive at camp – a personal goal for some of them!) and been back and forth a few times already…he confirmed the beer was cold and waiting for us!

That was all it took – we took a pic in front of the Black Diamond and off we went on the final leg of Day 1! It was mostly uphill but knowing we were so close we just once again put our heads down and pedalled. As we rode into Okotoks, my heart was filled with so much happiness and pride…it was a tough ride, we were hot, tired and thirsty, but man what a day!! And we were almost at Camp!!! Suddenly it felt like the day had flown by. As we got closer, you could see more and more volunteers and groups of cheering people! We had quite the welcome as we rode the last leg and crossed Welcome to Camp banner that signalled the end of day 1! We did it!!

One day down…time to celebrate and then get up and do it all over again tomorrow!! Ha.

But for now all I could think was “let’s get our bikes locked up and go sit out of the sun and have a nice cold beer”.

They were serving Steam Whistle, which was one of the sponsors, and boy I swear that was the best can of beer I ever had lol It was cold and wet and tasted like victory. My mom called and showed up with Ethan and my Dad and my Grandma. I was so happy to see them. After my family left we showered and then partied with the team until we figured we should hit the sack….in our tents!

As we laid our heads down, I felt like a little kid who has just had the best day ever. It was one of the rare days (a whole day!!) since being diagnosed where I was completely content. All felt right in my world. My biggest worry was if my legs would last the next day to get me to the finish line. I wasn’t worried about getting sick again. Or losing anymore friends. Or dying.

It was a wonderful gift.

I drifted off to sleep with a tummy full of beer, a heart full of love, a worry free mind and a smile on my face.

The Ride To Conquer canser: Thousands of Journeys. One Destination. Part 1

Aug 7, 2015

The Ride to Conquer cancer. It was finally here! It allowed me to zero in on it and block out anything else. For one weekend, riding was the only thing on my mind. They say The Ride is Epic, and it truly was. It was one of those life events that you never, ever forget, and talk about until you’re old and grey.

 I will never forget my first Ride.

The kids were having a weekend sleep over at our parents – they each took 1 kid – divide and conquer lol. The night before Phil and I were wired. I was excited, and scared and nervous all at once. It was finally here!! That thing that had come into my life and forever changed it, and that I had been actively training for for months…

Last year I was bald and about to go in for my 6th round of chemo. I cheered my team from the sidelines, and cried a good part of the weekend from being so overwhelmed with emotion. I looked at them like Gods… Or Angels.

My Mall Angels.

And now I was about to embark on the same journey that led my beloved teammates to me.

The Tuesday before the ride was the day after the tornado that happened in Calgary, and the weather in the NW where we ride from was dark and ominous. So we spent our last Tuesday team training ride with the team, drinking in the pub. Which is funny because that’s exactly how we spent our very first Tues team training ride with the team – also due to bad weather! I thought it was a fitting end to our first season of training. The first of many….

The night before the Ride we had some practical stuff to do – a run through at COP for the ceremonies the next day,  pack for the overnight stay, attach the identifying tags to our helmets and bikes, check over our bikes (ie admire our bikes lol). We just kept grinning at each other at odd moments throughout the night and saying “I can’t believe it’s tomorrow!”. It was kinda like Christmas Eve at our house that night. I didn’t know how we were going to ever get to sleep.

My happiness though was tinged with sorrow.

As excited as I was, I also found myself reflecting on how canser had impacted my life, and those I had met, and sadly lost. Taking my cue from Matt, who rode with his survivor flag covered in names – I started writing down all those I was riding for.  Matt rides for lots of people – but the main person I think on his mind is his friend Jordan . There were 4 of them that went through treatment together. A while later Jordan had a relapse, and died. It gutted them. So he rides for Jordan. For me, I was doing the Ride for my Dad. My Dad never made it to 36. He was diagnosed with pancreatic canser at 35 and died at 35. So I decided my 36th year would be the year I conquered cancer twice – once for me -  in treatment- and once for my Dad – on my bike. I made a sign with a pic of me and my Dad when I was 9 months old in PEI to put on my back:

I felt like my Dad had been with me while I was training. Sometimes when I was flying down a hill, or witnessing some particular beautiful sight on my bike, I felt like he was close to me. I had no doubt he would be with me during The Ride - and now everyone else would know too. Because he died when I was 2, he wasn’t able to be part of my life. It was through no fault of his own. In those bad moments when I wonder if I’ll see my kids grow up, my biggest fear is I’ll be the mom they don’t really remember. I feel sad to think my Dad maybe worried about that too.  I never really found a way to honour his memory – until now.

4:30AM came fast the next morning. I think it took us until 4:45 to be up and in the shower…we were on the road by 5:45…and by that point we had our coffee and were so excited. I thought back to my car ride last year to COP to cheer on One Aim. I cried when I saw all the different license plates from all over. This year I was just too damn happy to cry. And it probably helped that I had an idea of what to expect. I kept stealing glances at Phil to see if he was as enthralled with everything as I was. He was. The smile never left his face either.

It was chilly that morning. And it was still pretty dark out when we got up and parked at COP, although the sun had started rising. Everywhere we looked, there were cars. And bikes. And people in bike gear. I felt a thrill move through me as we unloaded our bikes and started to walk toward the stage to meet up with the rest of our team. We saw teammates in the parking lot. Hugs all around. My stomach was a bit knotted because of the part I had coming up in the opening ceremony. And at the thought of the over 100k I’d be riding that day. And the over 100k I’d get up and ride again the next day…

We loaded up our gear that was going on one of the many colour coded trucks to camp, and then we ran into a few more teammates as we carried on. More hugs. First stop, pick up my survivor’s flag pole, which attached to my bike.  Anyone who has had or has canser gets a tall yellow flag on their bike. It’s extremely inspiring to see all the yellow flags at the start – last year it gave me hope. This year I would learn that those riding with a yellow flag are treated with a kind of reverence by the other riders. It’s kind of hard to explain.

I’ve gotten used to walking with my eyes downcast, which probably started after I shaved my head. When I realized I was doing this I was bothered by it and have tried to stop doing it. But like any habit it’s hard to stop once you get used to doing it. Well, as I walked with my flag towards the meet up spot for our team, every time I raised my eyes and met another riders’ eyes – they smiled at me. This simple act encouraged me to walk tall – and smile back. I thought it was just the camaraderie between all riders who were united for the same cause, and was happy to be part of it. I think it was partly that, but I think my flag may have played a part as well. I just didn’t realize it at the time.

We finally got to the spot in front of the stage. We ran into even more teammates – more hugs. I had a moment when I was standing looking around, taking it all in. It was like a hum of energy . All the memories of the previous year standing there with a bald head came flooding back. A huge lump grew in my throat. And next thing I knew, tears were falling. It was a such an emotional moment. Last year I was a baldy on the sidelines, standing with my handmade sign of encouragement and a heart full of hope. This this year I was at the start line, with a head full of (short) curls, dressed proudly in my Ride To Conquer gear, about to take on the biggest physical challenge of my life.  Everything in the last year had led me to this spot. I guess I should have expected the tears, but they still caught me by surprise.

My wonderful team took it in stride. I got pats on the back and knowing smiles. They got it. After all, they were there last year. And they had been with me ever since, encouraging and helping me get to this very spot.

Then I saw Matt. My tears quickly dried as the joy filled my heart. I hadn’t seen Matt in months, and he had never met Phil. I introduced them and gave Matt a big hug. My inspiration to sign up for this crazy ride was here – this day was almost complete. I just needed to see Nigel.

My nerves started to amp up as we got closer to the time for the opening ceremonies. We met up with my mom and a couple of close friends of the family. I found out later that Phil's parents and Em were there too. The ceremonies hadn’t even started and it was already such a great day. All the challenges since ending treatment and going back to work slowly faded into the background. I was completely present in the moment. I wanted to drink it all in - enjoy and cherish every second.

And then Nigel was there, arriving in a bustle of energy trying to get all the last details nailed down and organising the last bit before we crossed the start line. Hard work being the leader of a team of over 100 riders! But when he saw me and Phil he got a huge smile on his face, and gave us a big hug. Typical Nigel. Then he was off, making sure everything was in order. 

Suddenly I was called to the other 3 survivors who were holding the riderless bike, and the Opening Ceremony began. We were set up right in the middle of the whole crowd, with an aisle leading from us right to the start line. Nigel told me there was usually 2 ways to handle the emotion of the part I had in the ceremonies – completely stoic, or balling like a baby…I figured there’d be no hope for me – they’d have to walk behind me with a mop…

Quite surprisingly as we walked the bike up to the start line, I didn’t ball like a baby. I did everything I could to hold the emotion in, though not sure “stoic” would be the right word for it…The MC was talking about how the bike represents those we’ve lost. And how us survivors represent the hope. As he was finishing up, that was our cue (the ones walking the bike) to go get on our bikes so we could take off with everyone once they said Ready, Set RIIIIIIDE!

I cried from the moment I crossed the start line with Phil and my team by my side, until we got to the highway. They were tears of pure emotion. Happiness. Sadness. Loss. Change. Celebration. Exhilaration. Hope.

And so began my Epic weekend, with my Epic team, riding an Epic 236 km across Epic scenery, united in our Epic goal of Conquering canser.

It was a hell of a start.

"Anyone can give up; it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength" - Unknown

Aug 5, 2015

So I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

I tried to focus on The Ride which was in a few weeks. It was my light at the end of, what felt like at times, a very dark tunnel. As was camping. We went camping the weekend before the Ride. Just us and Daisy (our dog). My inlaws were also camping at another campground that wasn’t too far away.  It was exactly what our family needed.

A few weeks earlier we noticed a bump on Daisy’s head. I thought maybe she had an infection. Her back legs had also started giving out every now and again. It was few and far between but she didn’t get up on our bed anymore. So I thought we could get that checked out too to make sure it was just the normal process of aging since she is an 80lb Rotti cross who was 10 years old. Andrea came with me.

Man I was not expecting what the vet had to say.

The back legs issue was a degenerative disease sadly common in larger dogs. Not hip displacia, but a disease that is progressive…and leads to eventual paralysis, and death.

As for the bump…The vet strongly suspected bone canser. Like 99% sure. It was on her eyebrow and there was a bump on her head too. Not operable because of where it was located. We could look into chemo or radiation, but that would not cure it. Just buy time, (potentially only weeks), and she cautioned if the canser was slow to progress, her legs could take her before the canser did.

WTF?? How did my dog go from being a frisky 10 year old, to a dog with not 1 but 2 terminal conditions in the span of a night? I was so shocked I couldn’t even cry. The vet gave us pain meds, and off we went to essentially provide our dog hospice care.

Buying our trailer a few years ago was one of the best decisions we made. Every time we’ve gotten bad news, we’ve been able to escape to nature. I know I’ve mentioned it lots, but camping really has been so rejuvenating for our family.

Especially with the additional stress of being back at work.

I wasn’t at work full time. I was on a graduated back to work schedule. This was put in place by Dr Taylor at Breast cancer Supportive Care Foundation based on my treatment. What a life saver…It’s a schedule that works in 2 week increments over about 3 months. I started at 2 half days, then after 2 weeks, I’d increase to 3 half days, and so on. Once I’m at 4 half days (4 hours a day), I go up to  4 days at 5 hours…2 weeks later, its 4 days at 6 hours etc. Wednesdays are my recovery day. Once I’m at 4 full days, I move up to half day Wednesdays then 2 weeks later I’m full time again. After only a few weeks in I was VERY glad it was graduated.

I wasn’t having fatigue issues yet per sae – which I had been expecting and prepared for– though I was definitely tired by the end of my shift. But it was the mental fatigue I wasn’t really expecting. Between chemo brain and headaches from being on a screen for 4 hours straight I was getting frustrated. Plus I had been away over a year, and my job is the kind that the longer you are away from it, the more you forget. I was feeling like with each problem that came into the inbox, the answer was just beyond my brain capacity. I may have shed a few tears over it, because I was so frustrated with myself. I guess I was expecting it to all come back within the first few shifts.

It was making me doubt myself. My confidence started to slip. I went from feeling like this really strong person right before I came back, the kind who could do anything I put my mind to,  to the weak link on the team. That’s a hard mental & emotional adjustment. I felt the frustration with myself at one of the last team rides too before the Ride – like I had gone backwards in training. I got my “riders high” as usual afterwards, but during the ride I could feel the frustration with myself, which formed as a lump in my throat. It’s amazing to me how self-doubt can cling to you like that and seep into other areas of your life. Positive thinking is so powerful, but so are the bad emotions. At the time though, I didn’t see it like that. I just felt like things were starting to unravel and my life was spinning out of control.

It made things seems completely overwhelming. Which was probably completely normal with going back to work and all that entails,  but at the time, that thought never occurred to me. I thought I was failing at being back at work.

And just to add a little more to my plate, I had a follow up physical appointment with Dr Kubic the Wed before the Ride. My very first physical appointment after treatment (in April), I cried before she even laid hands on me. I was terrified for the physical part of the exam. I felt really stupid for being so emotional. I tried really hard to stop the tears from flowing, esp since it was the first time meeting this doctor but they just kept falling down my face. My heart was racing and my hands were ice cold. This Aug appointment was my 2nd follow up and I think I was only slightly less nervous than the first appointment. I didn’t cry. But as we were going through any concerns I had and her list of questions, she wrote a requisition for me to get an ultrasound. Cause I was having an ovary type pain – which seemed cyclical (good thing if it was just menstral related), but seemed always just after my period instead of when I should be ovulating, so she offered to do a peace of mind ultrasound to make sure all was well.  I would say on a scale of 1-10, the idea of an ultrasound put my terror at  level 100. To be fair, the last ultrasound told me I had canser…

I wanted to take that piece of paper and tear it up.

When I got up on the table for the physical part I think my heart sounded like I had just run a marathon. I actually closed my eyes and started to use the relaxation techniques I had learned at Wellspring and at the Breast cancer Supportive Care class. After about 10 minutes the doc said:

“Everything feels and looks good! All done”.

My heart was lighter with those words, but the pit of my stomach was in knots over the ultrasound that she wanted me to book…all I kept thinking was “I haven’t gotten my BRCA results yet but what if I have ovarian cancer?”.

Thankfully we had had that long weekend of camping and then only a few short days till The Ride weekend. I could hold on till then….I knew that weekend riding with Phil and my One Aim team would be deeply healing.

And boy was I ever right.

"That's life...you're riding high in April, shot down in May..." - That's Life by Frank Sinatra

July 28, 2015

With Sarah’s death, something broke inside. I don’t know how else to explain it. The hope I felt was gone. What’s the point of wearing pink when young women are still dying? This was a game changer for me. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel joy without it being tainted with pain. For the first time I felt cynical. It was a terrible place to be.

The next day was the day I cried all the way into work.

When I got into work, I got a text from Kimmy A. She is my childhood friend who just went through cervical cancer. She had went that morning to get the results of the scan a few weeks earlier to see if the treatment worked. Her text read:

“Hey :) I am canser FREE :D I am so relieved. "

Her treatment worked.

And in all my despair, I suddenly felt pure joy. The kind of joy I had been wondering if I could feel without it being tainted. Guess I had my answer.

Later that same day I got a call from The Ride To Conquer Cancer office…They asked me if I would consider being part of the opening ceremonies on Ride day. I was taking that in when she continued “Part of the ceremony consists of 4 survivors who walk a riderless bike across the start line to signify those we have lost, but also the hope of those who have survived. We try to get survivors who are doing the ride for the first time to do this. We got your name from your teammate, Matt Anderson, who thought you’d be interested”.

I had a huge lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes (and a few might have escaped my eyes…sweaty eyes as Nigel says…). First because last year when I watched that part of the ceremony, I was balling like a baby. And it wasn’t just me - there wasn’t a dry eye to be found…It is the most emotional part of the ceremony and is a huge honour! I was thrilled and touched that they would ask me. Secondly, Matt is a huge reason I was riding in the 2015 Ride. His story of how he signed up for the ride while his body was still thrashed from his brutal Leukaemia treatment and how he finished it inspired me to attempt to run my first 5K when I was still bald and just finished chemo.  He put my name on his flag and said he would “ride for me” (I was 5 chemo treatments in at last year’s Ride) before he even met me…so I was determined to ride alongside him as a teammate this year after completing my 5k run. He was already on a pedestal in my eyes, and now he went and gave them my name to be part of a ceremony that would ensure my first Ride To Conquer was one I would never forget. I think he’s up there with Nigel now when it comes to my hero worship ha.

I left work that day a bit dazed. And I once again wondered if my Dad was working overtime on his Guardian Angel duties, cause those 2 pieces of news could not have come at a better time.

Life in this canser world is unpredictable. It sucks. The day before I was top of the world after my big ride with my team, and then a few hours later found myself thrown into the depths of despair. And then I got the call from Kimmy A and the Ride Office, and I was back up, even if only temporarily. Ping ponging emotionally like that is so draining, and very confusing. I know life is unpredictable, but I find the “surprises” in this club are either totally awesome or heartbreaking as hell. There’s very little middle ground.

I will say though it does makes you really savour the sweet moments, because you never know what’s around the corner….