Sometime after October of last year, an early morning run conversation with Ron, Kerrie & Lisa revolved around the Challenge to Conquer Cancer 2009.  I expressed that I didn’t know if I could commit to it because it was such a huge time commitment…and Ron’s words to me were… “if you wait for the perfect time, it’ll never happen.”  That’s so true.  A short time after that conversation, my dad, a seemingly healthy man with very few medical issues, started having shortness of breath.  Without any blood pressure or cholesterol problems, it seemed weird, but sounded like a heart attack.  We went to the doctor that afternoon…everything looked good, but they sent him to a cardiologist to get to the root of the problem.  The MRI showed a large mass in his abdomen.  Biopsy showed it to be cancerous.  The family was confused as to where it originated.  Doctors kept calling it a fatty tumor…as if it had no origin.  Well, as it turns out fat cells CAN be an origin for cancer.  LIPOSARCOMA is what his cancer was called.  And after undergoing major surgery, they discovered just how big his tumor was…15 lbs and the size of a volleyball!!  Thus began my dad’s battle with a little known cancer, and my commitment to the Challenge to Conquer Cancer.  While I was ramping up to 60-mile rides to Saluda, NC, my dad was undergoing radiation which gave us hope, but eventually showed to have zero effect.  With another tumor that had grown to the size of a football, and blood clots eliminating the possibility of another surgery, my dad started saying his goodbyes and setting things in order for me & my brother.  It still seems unreal, but makes the journey all the more important for Loren & me.  There was no question that we would complete the 2009 Challenge to Conquer Cancer.  First it was to be in honor of Dad.  And after June 7^th 2009…it became a ride in memory of Dad…James McIlravy.  We’re doin’ it for Dad.

Here we are, just hours away from our departure.  Like others, my bags are packed, the bike is ready (almost – have to mount my new tires), the bills are paid, the neighbor is going to keep an eye on my cats and my house.  There isn’t much left for me to do before I head over to meet everyone at the Cancer Center.

I am amazed at the journey the peeps of P3C3 have taken me on so far and I am excited and scared about where this journey is going to take me next.  Already I am an emotional mess.  I’m afraid of how these emotions are going to be exposed over the course of the next week.  But I’m excited because this is the type of journey of which I am in need.

It is never easy to put myself outside of my comfort zone, but some things I can handle better than others.  Being outside of my physical comfort zone (pick an extreme adventure sport or activity) will always surge the adrenaline, but I know how that feels.  I know what to expect and I know how my body and mind will react to it.

It’s the emotional comfort zone I have never really ventured far beyond.

I don’t know what compassion is really supposed to feel like.  I don’t know the real meaning of pain or suffering.  I thought pain was humping a rucksack through the mountains or swamps (or both) for days and nights on end.

I think I’m starting to get it.  Talking with a survivor the other day I could see the pain and suffering in her eyes as she described to me what she went through during her diagnosis and treatment.  There were emotions rushing around in me that I’m not completely familiar with.  I was uncomfortable with these emotions, but I tried to grasp what effect they were having on my mind and body.

This is how I’m going to learn about these emotions – the same way I learned to deal with the physical and emotional sensations that had once lain beyond my physical comfort zone:  Repeated exposure.

This terrifies me.

Why am I doing this crazy ride again this year?  Well, I am not a great cyclist or athlete, I can’t stand to ride when it is less than 50 degrees, I have tons of other commitments between work, husband and three kids.  I had felt trained until 2 weeks ago when I got a cold and my knee started to hurt and I hate asking people to donate money.  So why am I doing this?  Because of hope.  Because 7 years ago this month, I was bald and on chemotherapy for breast cancer and could not ride.  Because my Mother died from pancreatic cancer and I miss her.  Because Scott Shuey wanted to do this ride and he can’t.  Because Laurens was trained for this ride and she can’t ride now.  Because I have seen and grieved over too many friends and patients dealing with cancer and too many of them dying from cancer.  Because I believe in the power of cancer survivors and the hope that we can become stronger physically, mentally and spiritually from cancer.  And while some cancer survivors may die from an incurable disease, many can still achieve healing.  I believe that God allows cancer for reasons that we cannot understand but hope that we will understand some day. So while my hair might not be much improved over baldness, my heart and my spirit are greatly improved as a result of being a survivor. I am doing this ride by God’s grace because I can, once I couldn’t and many still cannot!

Hope tells me that…

The future will be better than today.

What’s broken will one day be fixed.

What hurts will one day be healed.

What is wrong will one day be made right.

What has been missed will one day be compensated. (Scott Hodge)

I had lunch with Anne Garner my fellow support driver for YELLOW today. We were kind of going over things: logistics, things to pack, how we will stay in contact and who wants to drive the bus. (Thankfully we’ve got help there.) Strangely, I am the ONLY returning driver this year. Some people are looking to me for answers/suggestions. I have shared a few, but to me this is a brand new year with a new ride. Yes we have sent numerous letters to our family and friends, had mandatory meetings and fundraisers, booked rental vans and hotel rooms for Austin, picked up maps at AAA, and scheduled a time to leave. ALL like last year.  But this year is a brand new adventure!  Different route, different challenges and new smiling faces!  
continue reading "A Brand New Journey"

You had cancer? It is probably the question I have heard the most in the last four years. This month, four years ago, I was beginning to lose my hair. I had just begun my 8 rounds of chemo. It still seems surreal.

Will (my husband of 17 months) and I went to France in July to watch the Tour de France. It was Lance’s seventh tour and it was amazing to have the opportunity to cycle in a place such as France. On July 16th, we rode Le Tourmalet before the pros arrived . It was my favorite bicycle ride ever. I don’t remember how many miles but I remember how steep it was. Fans cheered for me and asked me if I wanted a push. Supposedly, they aren’t used to seeing women cycle, so I guess I was a strange sight. I met a Frenchman who spoke a little English and with my very limited French we conversed. We met 3 miles from the town of La Mongie which was the finish line for that particular stage. I have to admit, I really struggled those last few miles. The Frenchman, whose name I do not remember only that he rode an older Eddie Merckx bicycle, encouraged me by saying “courage” and “allez”. I will never forget that day and the encouragement that got me to the top of that huge mountain.

Shortly after we returned from France, I found a lump in my left breast. Initially I really didn’t think much of it, but thankfully I had it checked out and was scheduled for a biopsy within two weeks. I remember September 2nd, 2004 like it was yesterday. I was recovering from the biopsy at my boyfriend’s house (Will and I were still dating at the time) and Dr. Rippon called to tell me that my biopsy was positive for cancer. She also told me that I didn’t have clear margins. She went on to tell me that Will would be by to pick me up and bring me to her office. I remember asking Will how many times he had told someone they had cancer. He was quiet for a minute but said lots of time, but this is different.

I decided to have surgery and chemotherapy. It wasn’t easy taking chemo. Being 29 years old and having breast cancer is quite a shock to most people. Jo, Dr. Rippon’s nurse, told me that cancer was like a “big bump in the road” and that I would get over the “bump”. I often thought of my ride up the Tourmalet and the man I met. It kept me going during the low times. Will was great during the entire process. I’m sure some parts were pretty scary for him, but he never let me know. My mama and daddy were very supportive also. Mama came to Greenville for every one of my treatments. Will and my mama became very good friends during the process. I often joke about Dr. Rippon and Dr. Gococo making me well and Dr. Lovett putting me back together. I will forever be grateful for the care I received. I hope I make them proud.

So four years later I am riding to Austin with my teammates Kerrie, Crystal and Susannah and my support guys Tom and Joe because I CAN.

I bought my first road bike less than a year ago in December of 2007. I was motivated to do something different besides running marathons, and after talking to my daddy, who is an avid cyclist in Seattle, I decided that I would give it a try. Not sure if I would really get into the sport, I bought a beginner bike from The Great Escape and went out on a few rides.

One day while running with Ron Jerina on an early Saturday morning at Furman, he asked me if I would be interested in riding to Austin in October of 2008. I thought to myself that this is the craziest idea that I had heard of. But then again, I do like a challenge! Since starting my days of running marathons, I think that anything can be accomplished through hard work and dedication. Even though I was a disaster on the bike (many falls, cuts, bruises, and choice words), I was determined to join in with the group to Austin and raise money for cancer research.

At one of our many organization meetings on Friday February 29, 2008, I got an upsetting phone call from my dermatologist. He called to tell me that the most recent mole that I had taken off was diagnosed as skin cancer (melanoma). I was devastated and cried in front of everyone. At that point, I really felt like I had a purpose for this ride and that I would prove to myself that I could accomplish this goal. I feel that everything happens for a reason: I was temporarily stationed in Greenville for a job assignment, I became friends with Ron Jerina, I bought my first road bike, and I was diagnosed with cancer. All of these things made me realized that I was destined to do this ride and raise money for cancer research.

I have become an advocate for sun protection (just ask my friends how annoying I am about sunblock), but again was diagnosed with skin cancer in July of 2008. After another successful surgery and a nice scar on my neck, I am again cancer free. My battle will continue as I see a dermatologist 4 times a year now, and am constantly living in fear that any one of my moles will be malignant again. Thank you to all of my family and friends for their support.

Cancer is an ugly condition that affects even a marathon-running, tennis playing, cycling 27 year old health nut. Yes, no one is immune from it. With the money raised from this ride, I hope we all realize that we are not only helping all of our loved ones that have already endured cancer, but we are also preparing a brighter future for our own health.

Team 5: I have become very fond of my team, and have enjoyed the emotional ups and downs, our many rides together, and of course, their friendship. Good luck to everyone on the ride, and be safe on the road.

Crystal

On Sunday, October 19, I will wake up early in Greenville, South Carolina and prepare to embark on a journey to Austin, Texas as a crew member for a 4 person women’s team riding their bicycles on a cross country relay ride called the Challenge to Conquer Cancer. Five teams of either 4 or 5 persons will be participating. Each team will ride 6 hours at a time on their shift. They will then have 24 hours off to sleep, eat and get ready to start to ride again. One crew member will drive the Hincapie Co. bus behind the team while they are riding. The other crew member will drive the team van. In order to participate, each rider raised at least $5,000 and each crew member raised at least $1,800. The money raised benefits the Lance Armstrong Foundation and the Oncology Research Institute of the Greenville Hospital System.

How, one might ask, does one become a crew member on a ride such as this? For me it was a simple matter of the stars and planets falling into perfect alignment. On Labor Day weekend, I traveled to Greenville with my sons, Thomas (7) and Charlie (2) to watch the U.S. Professional Cycling Championships. On the morning of the road race, there is a ride called the Stars and Stripes Challenge, which also benefits the same two above organizations fighting cancer. We had planned to ride but my son Thomas crashed and broke his arm while riding his bike two weeks earlier. So instead of riding, the three of us volunteered to be course marshals at the only sharp left hand turn on the ride. It was a good experience and a fine introduction for my boys into the world of volunteering. Two weeks later, I received an urgent e-mail from the Palmetto Peloton Project, the sponsoring organizations for both rides, looking for a few last minute crew team volunteers. It seems that a couple of volunteers had dropped out at the last minute leaving them short-handed. I was already planning a 4 day cycling vacation that week. How hard would it be to do this instead and be gone for 8 days? My mother-in-law was coming that week for the boys’ birthdays and I wouldn’t therefore be leaving Janet home alone with the kids for 8 days. Janet said yes and the tallest hurdle was cleared. I thought about it for about 2 minutes, couldn’t find a reason why I couldn’t or shouldn’t go and called Kevin Dunn to tell him I was ready to sign up. Needless to say he seemed pleased.

So on a practical level, all the lights were green to join the challenge. On an emotional or spiritual level, it seemed as if I was being called to participate. The events in my life and those close to me provided a strong motivation to join an organized effort to conquer cancer. Let me try to explain a little further.

When I was 29 years old I lost my mother to liver cancer. I had just returned from my honeymoon with my wife Linda and we learned that my mother had to cut her trip to Maine with my father short due to intense abdominal pain. They flew back to Atlanta where she received the diagnosis of liver cancer at Piedmont Hospital. This was a woman who hardly drank, ate very healthy and started doing yoga in the 70’s. She would later travel to the Mayo Clinic for surgery that offered some hope. She never recovered from the surgery and died one month later on September 11, 1986. It was a loss that our family wasn’t prepared for and our family would never be the same without her. To this day we all miss her greatly.

Fast forward to 2008, twenty two years later. Linda and I have been divorced since 1994. We have a beautiful daughter, Mimms (20), who was named for my mother who she never met. She inherited her incredible artistic talent from her though. Mimms is a junior at UGA majoring in graphic design in the art school. The week Mimms finished her Spring semester at UGA, she found out her mother, Linda, has Stage IV breast cancer. This is hardly the news my daughter wanted halfway through college. Before her diagnosis, Linda made some major life changes to prepare for the next chapter in her life. Her children were all grown so she sold the house we lived in and Mimms was born in to move to a smaller townhouse in a co-housing community in East Lake. She quit her job and went back to school to receive training for a new career. She is one of the healthiest persons I know. She has been a long-time vegetarian, she eats mostly organic food and she tries to avoid sugar. Her beverage of choice is water or herbal tea. How or why she developed breast cancer I do not know or understand.

But she has it and she is trying her best to get healed from it. She had chemotherapy early on. In August, she had a mastectomy. After that she underwent radiation therapy and an alternative vitamin therapy. Her spirit is strong and she is fighting the disease as best she can. We all are praying and hoping that she can be healed. It is a tough battle but if anyone can win it Linda can.

So when the Palmetto Peloton Project e-mailed and asked me if I could help try to conquer cancer, I couldn’t say no. I want Linda to live longer. I want my daughter to have her mother with her as long as possible. I want to help raise money so that a cure for cancer can one day be found. I can’t think of a better reason to drive a bus 15 miles an hour for 6 hours while 4 strong beautiful women ride their bikes towards Austin. I am looking forward to an incredible week. I will try to keep you posted on the challenge.

“Why are YOU doing this?”  It’s a question I have heard many times, and even asked myself.  I have never had cancer.  I have never been through chemo, never lost my hair, never “walked through the valley.”  My parents and children are all, thank God, cancer free.  I am not a truly avid cyclist (more, rather, of a weekend warrior).  I could not describe a crank shaft in detail nor do I know all the finer points of Assos vs. Chamois Butt’r.  The farthest I have ever ridden at one time is 70.1 miles.  At (still, and after losing 50 pounds) 30 pounds more than I should weigh, I certainly do not look like a cyclist!

Yet there are many reasons I am doing this.  My husband was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 2007, after a thyroidectomy due to a completely inactive thyroid.  The tumor was less than a centimeter in diameter and, according to doctors, “if you’re going to have cancer, that’s the kind you want to have.”  Can you imagine, a cancer you want to have!  After just a few weeks of real doubt, we were cleared of any cancer demons and reassured that this was a fluke.

My grandmother also died of cancer (cancer of unknown primary origin) in 2000 at the age of 91.  From the day of diagnosis to the day she died was one month exactly, and it was a month from hell.  That said, being with a dying person was one of the strongest and most moving experiences of my life.  I treasure it deeply in a little safe place in my heart, and I recommend the experience highly.  But I wish it had not been cancer that had taken this remarkable woman, leaving her, in the end, with such little dignity.

My uncle died at age 60 of esophogeal cancer, and it was another useless death, filled with pointless suffering.

My father in law was treated successfully for bladder cancer in 2003 but has scars that he will carry for life.

So, I ride for my husband and his cancer-you-want-to-have.  I ride for Betty and Bob and Paul.  I ride for Susan.  I ride for Sally, and Holly, and Rhonda, and Lisa, and Linda, and the other Lisa.  I ride for Grace.  I ride for Jennifer and Stacy.  I ride for Lindsey, who does not have cancer but has a terminal cancer-like illness that is so rare the only research it gets is for cancer first, and her four year old son and her husband on his second tour of Iraq.  I ride for my mother and mother in law and brothers- and sisters-in-law and all our children, so they may never face this disease.

I ride so that next year, maybe no one will have to ride.

Recently, as I was preparing to leave my husband and three children for a week (no easy task I assure you) I thought whiningly to myself, “I can’t do this.”  And a voice popped into my head (Joey, I swear it was Susan!  Or maybe, Kevin, it was Sally?) and said, ”Don’t you DARE say that.  Of course you can!”   Several hours later I picked up my new issue of Runner’s World (sorry, I do not yet subscribe to Bicycling or whatever it is) and here was the first thing I read, a quote in a sidebar: “There will be a day that you cannot do this.  Today is not that day.”

So, there will be a day I cannot do this:  today, and tomorrow, and the next and the next all the way to Austin, will not be that day.

Susannah Hogan

I am John Siddens, and I have many reasons for the ride:

1) my dad died as a result of colon cancer     2) my mom nearly died from vaginal cancer     3) I have had 2 different types of skin cancers myself     4) I have been blessed by the stories from several donors who entrusted me with their money to honor or memorialize a loved one who was touched by cancer     5) one way I can attempt to regain my self respect after making some terrible decisions that cost me my marriage to a wonderful woman who was my best friend, wife, confidant, and outstanding mother to my 3 beautiful daughters.

These are actually only 5 of many reasons, but seem to be the most dominant for my ride.  I hope to use the many miles on the bike to constantly think of the reasons I ride, and when I am fatigued beyond belief, to buckle up my helmet, think of more than myself, and keep going.

At 6′ 6″ and 245 lbs, I am probably too big to ride bicycles, but I love cycling so much that I cannot fathom not being out on the bike feeling the breeze in my face and enjoying scenery.  The P3C3 ride will give me strength to begin my life anew and help me face a new and uncertain future.  I dedicate the ride to each person touched by cancer, and to each person touched by my recent decline…  I promise to find ‘Happy John’………………………

This is my first posting but better late than never.

I am Joey Sullivan. I, like a lot of people involved with this ride, have a personal reason for doing the ride and mine revolves around 2 people (and there are many more but for the ride’s purpose, 2 people).

The first person is Susan, my wife. She was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer a little over 4 years ago. She has been through it all and has come out looking fantastic as always. Even with her second go around of this cancer she has maintained her fantastic attitude and kept an incredibly positive outlook even though her doctors have not been so positive on several occasions.

My second person is our son Trey. He is four years old and was about 8 weeks old when Susan was diagnosed. I truly think this is almost as much about him as it is about Susan. The only mom he knows is incredible, she always has time and steps above and beyond especially in times when she is not feeling well (which as anyone knows, with cancer there are good days and bad days).

With the good and bad, I have learned that dealing with cancer is as much about attitude as it is about anything else that you go through. Susan has shown me this day in and day out. I have no doubts that this is the reason that she will keep fighting and be there for Trey as he grows up.

I attached a photo, it was the first I could find on my computer, but like all of the pictures I keep with them together, they are smiling and everything is fine.  The date stamp is off but that photo is from Disney in June 2008. I will post a few more in the coming time.

Livestrong!