This being a Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training event. The Seattle to Portland Classic, July 14 &15. A double century. That means a two-day, 100 mile/day ride, from Seattle to Portland. I’m not so much worried about the physical demands, because I’ve done this kind of training before. I’m more concerned about having to raise $4600 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society by May 23. But I can’t seem to stop thinking about it!
In 2004, I trained for El Tour de Tucson with Team in Training. It was such an incredible experience! I can’t even begin to describe what it taught me about myself, God, discipline, disappointment. Disappointment? Yes, I didn’t get to cross the finish line, thanks to Allyson’s Touchy Digestive System. This is how I described the experience to Jenn in an email:
"The bike ride. . .oh, it’s a funny story. Let me tell you. So I get there, are geared up and ready to go, I’m pumped, I’ve trained, everything is wonderful. Chad’s parents are there, my parents are there, Chad is there, and then my stomach decides to stage a rebellion. I was up all night the night before, puking my guts out, doing the circus in my butt thing, completely PURGING the old system. And really, you’re technically NOT supposed to do things like this the night before an endurance event. You’re supposed to be all full and fueled and ready. So I’m hysterical, of course, and there’s no way that I"m NOT going to ride, because I"ve worked so hard. So I go, and the first thirty miles are absolute misery. I’m not eating (another no-no) because I don’t really want to puke on the side of the road, and I’m tired and really just MAD that it happened to me. And then, I get a second wind, breeze through the next 40 miles, and am mildly optimistic about finishing. And then the stars arrive. Flashing right through the middle of my vision. It’s pretty, I watch it for a while, and then I notice the hammer beating on my bike helmet. My coach rides up and starts asking me these pesky questions, like who people are and how old I am and weird stuff like that. And I don’t know anyone’s name, and I’m trying way too hard to find answers to these dumb questions, and we both realize that I’ve totally lost it and am suffering from OVER-hydration. This happens when you drink gallons of water and work out really hard on an empty stomach. You dilute your blood and don’t have enough salt, so you get loopy. The symptoms are the same as those for dehydration. So I stopped at mile 70. I was very
unhappy about it and pitched a fit, complete with weeping and gnashing of teeth, but for the shape I was in that day, I think I did pretty well."
But I never got to cross the finish line. Our coach said something extremely significant right before the ride. He said, "You’ve already done all the hard work. This is just the reward." And he was right. It was those long, lonely miles on the road for months and months that mattered. Not the ride at the end. But I really wanted to cross that line, I’d envisioned it millions of times, planned how I was going to think of my Mum and cry and laugh as I pedalled across. And people just keep GETTING leukemia, and I HATE leukemia, and this is something I can DO about it. And a double century! That makes up for not finishing the first one, because I’ll be doing TWO!
So am I crazy, or what?
Not crazy. You are an amazing woman, fighting a good fight. I know you can cross that finish line. I know that your Mum would be proud of you, no matter what. God can provide the funds. And know that you have my support–always.
I second Faith’s comments. Not crazy. Good fight. Mum proud. God provides. My support.
(If you can’t seem to stop thinking about it, stop trying.)
Allyson, this is way cool! I am super proud of you for taking on this challenge!