I was all jazzed up yesterday.
I finally articulated my plan to train for Pelotonia and wrote a short, but kind of emotional account of my intentions behind doing such. I was ready to get the training party started, but in an effort to preserve my one-piece, well-shaped collarbone, those plans are on a slight delay.
--
Since my junior year of college, I have chugged away on my pseudo-mountain bike that my dad so eloquently dubbed “Godzilla” not too long ago (given name: Roxie). A Fuji Odessa, it dutifully got me to class and to everywhere else when my car was stolen while living in College Park. Post-best times of my pre-adult life, Roxie was perfect for the rail trails of North Carolina and Connecticut, as well as the occasional beer bike ride.
We’ve had some good times.
But when it comes to riding 100 miles, Roxie, aka Godzilla, was not the most practical option. So after weeks of research and shopping around, I decided on the Fuji Finest 1.0 (I like to keep it in the family) and purchased it Monday evening.
(The name is still to be determined.)
After a very brief encounter with the new wheels last night, I will never again refer to anything as being as easy as riding a bike in reference its simplicity or uncomplicated nature. Because I have now realized that riding a road bike is inherently complicated. And scary.
In short, strapped pedals are not my friend.*
--
A few wobbly minutes and one near disaster for the aforementioned collarbone, I decided to lay it to rest for the night. Totally deflated, mildly embarrassed and completely worried that I made a promise that I wouldn’t be able to keep.
After a few pep talks from my friends and an encouraging email from my dad though, I’m ready to ride again … in a couple days, with proper shoes and realistic expectations.
In the meantime ... in my mind, Pelotonia spells HOPE.
* It should be noted: I was attempting the strapped pedals with knobby running shoes while my cycling shoes are in transit from Bike Nashbar.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
My story and public declaration.
Nearly 10 years ago, I lost my friend Adam to leukemia. We were 17 years old, seniors in high school and had our whole lives ahead of us. He was a talented soccer player and a gifted artist with this smile that just filled the room. Adam’s father passed away when we were sophomores, also of cancer, and it seemed like entirely too much tragedy for one family to bear when he was diagnosed in May 1999 with T-cell leukemia.
In true Adam style, however, he rallied and was rarely, if ever, seen without that infectious smile. In fact, when his hair fell out during chemotherapy, he wore a clown wig to school. That was just Adam Travatello in a nutshell.
On Jan. 19, 2000, however, Adam lost his nine-month battle with the disease, further and forever changing the lives of everyone that was fortunate enough to know him. While I often try to remember him as happier and healthier, I too will always remember his mother’s face at his funeral and those of the hundreds of friends that came to celebrate his life.
Those are the looks that stay with me.
That haunt me.
And motivate me to participate in events like Light the Night, Team-in-Training recruitment and most recently Pelotonia.
Because I cannot help but hope that with enough money, enough awareness and enough research, one day those looks will never be seen again. That children will not have to bury their friends; that mothers will not lose their sons; that cancer will stop killing.
---
While volunteering in Athens with the Pelotonia bicycle event, I heard so many similar stories. Of love and loss. Of triumph. And most importantly of hope.
And I was inspired.
---
There are merits to every cancer awareness and fundraising event out there. I cannot argue with anything that has the same end goal, but there was something about Pelotonia that made me want to get involved beyond just checking riders in and making sure they had their bags.
I want to be a part of something so much larger than me. To push myself, and my body, so much harder than it has ever been pushed and to know with each mile, that is one small step closer to the end goal.
And so, in just under a year, I pledge to join the horde of Pelotonia riders and (attempt to) ride 100 miles in memory of Adam and of everyone that has lost his or her own battles with cancer.
In honor of Ohio State goalkeeper Matt Lampson and all those that have survived.
And in the hope that we can find a cure.
---
This is my journey. Because in my mind, Pelotonia spells HOPE.
In true Adam style, however, he rallied and was rarely, if ever, seen without that infectious smile. In fact, when his hair fell out during chemotherapy, he wore a clown wig to school. That was just Adam Travatello in a nutshell.
On Jan. 19, 2000, however, Adam lost his nine-month battle with the disease, further and forever changing the lives of everyone that was fortunate enough to know him. While I often try to remember him as happier and healthier, I too will always remember his mother’s face at his funeral and those of the hundreds of friends that came to celebrate his life.
Those are the looks that stay with me.
That haunt me.
And motivate me to participate in events like Light the Night, Team-in-Training recruitment and most recently Pelotonia.
Because I cannot help but hope that with enough money, enough awareness and enough research, one day those looks will never be seen again. That children will not have to bury their friends; that mothers will not lose their sons; that cancer will stop killing.
---
While volunteering in Athens with the Pelotonia bicycle event, I heard so many similar stories. Of love and loss. Of triumph. And most importantly of hope.
And I was inspired.
---
There are merits to every cancer awareness and fundraising event out there. I cannot argue with anything that has the same end goal, but there was something about Pelotonia that made me want to get involved beyond just checking riders in and making sure they had their bags.
I want to be a part of something so much larger than me. To push myself, and my body, so much harder than it has ever been pushed and to know with each mile, that is one small step closer to the end goal.
And so, in just under a year, I pledge to join the horde of Pelotonia riders and (attempt to) ride 100 miles in memory of Adam and of everyone that has lost his or her own battles with cancer.
In honor of Ohio State goalkeeper Matt Lampson and all those that have survived.
And in the hope that we can find a cure.
---
This is my journey. Because in my mind, Pelotonia spells HOPE.
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