This was absolutely the worst ride I have ever had.
Average speed was 14.9 and I usually average 19-20 on the same ride, top speed downhill was 32 and my best has been 45, my ride time was 55:36 and its usually 36:00-38:00.
Yet when I stepped off my bike I was crying with happiness. Why?
Because I did it. Today I reached my 2,000 commuting mile goal.
I wish I could memorize every moment of today’s ride because, although it was the worst ride ever in, it was the best ride I’ve ever had. From the very first crank of the pedals I felt all my loved ones, my friends, and even complete strangers, all of those who’ve dealt with or are dealing with this disease, riding with me - a ghost army of riders that were giving me strength.
I knew from the weather report last night that the wind would be blowing 20-30 miles an hour with occasional gusts up to 40 mph coming from the west - just the direction I would be riding in tomorrow morning. But I also knew that I was 13.6 miles from my goal, and nothing was going to keep me from reaching that goal today.
So at 6:30am I headed out.
To get out of Northport you immediately have to climb a ¼ mile incline that has about an 8% grade. As I started the climb I began to think about all the names on “The List” - the names of people who are fighting cancer, who have fought cancer and are in remission, and those who have passed away from the disease. My sisters, my mother, Hope Machedon, Becky Grella, Michelle Kullack and others passed through my head as the first blast of wind caught me and almost tipped me over. Then on I got my “wind legs” and knew how I needed to adjust to the gusts.
The rest of the ride was pretty much a battle between me and the wind. Sometimes I’d be in the lee of the wind as I went behind a windbreak of some sort, but then I’d turn a corner and get 30 miles an hour right in the face. I’d just crouch down, “close the cup”, and crank harder. It seemed to take forever, including going down the big descent where I usually make up time at 40+. Not even that descent could help me make up time, but I was strangely happy as I watched the odometer turn from 1997 to 1998. As I hit the top of Stillwell Hill it started snowing in small flurries, and the first thing I thought was that Hope was sending them down. I wiped back some tears and kept going.
The last two miles were a tossup between pedaling faster and watching the odometer slowly change towards 2,000 miles. As I came exactly to the front of Syosset High School I hit 2,000 and immediately yelled out in triumph. The car that was passing me to the left must have thought they hit me. I yelled to colleagues in the parking lot (who all thought I was completely insane to be riding in weather like that), pulled up outside the entrance to my office, dismounted and immediately started crying tears of joy. Once again I thought of all those names and faces who had ridden with me that day.
As I walked my faithful steed into the hall I noticed all my theatre kids huddled up in the theatre with smiles on their faces, so I went in. Suddenly they were throwing streamers and yelling “Congratulations!” Then I noticed that Amy and my children were there as well.
Apparently, knowing I would reach my goal today, she’d mobilized all my kids to share in the triumph. And again I started crying tears of joy. I couldn’t believe that these kids (many of whom are definitely not morning people) had all gotten there so early to celebrate with me, I couldn’t believe my wife had done this, I couldn’t believe I had done it - and all the gratitude just came pouring out.
I was a moment I’ll never forget.
So, 2,000 miles has come and gone. But I’m still riding for Connor’s Army. We haven’t quite reached our $10,000 goal and the fight isn’t over.
In 2011 we plan to start in San Diego and spend six weeks riding back to Long Island. This time our goal will be to raise $50,000 for cancer research. And this time Sarah hopes to do some of the riding with me. Connor’s Army is far from finished. We haven’t yet won the war against cancer and I’ll keep riding until we lick this disease.
Stay well and I'll see you on the road!
