I’m Obliteriding to cure cancer faster — and I need your support!
This August, beneath Mount Rainier, bald eagles, and an enormous orange banner, I’m joining thousands of people in Seattle to bike, run, walk, and raise money to obliterate cancer.
I’m doing this because I’m ready for a world where no family has to fear this disease. We’re making progress, but we have a long way to go: One in three people will still face cancer in their lifetime.
Every Obliteride-raised dollar goes to lifesaving research at Fred Hutch — and the Hutch won’t stop they have cures for all cancers. Already, researchers there are advancing breakthrough treatments, ramping up prevention and diagnosis, and bringing together the best minds in science, tech, and business to save more lives, more quickly.
It’s amazing! But bold research takes money — and that’s where we come in.
Please donate today and join me in putting cancer in its place: behind us.
My Personal Web Log
a little fitter so, the ride is around the corner- I haven't updated in a while, mostly because I haven't accomplished much in the way of training. Now, I've picked up the pace with some running and jogging along with moderate weight training. It does feel great to feel the positive progress, whether it be in my energy level or my body mass index.
also planning our wedding, which is the following month, and just this weekend realized between the farm, the ride and the wedding, it's appropriate to feel stressed at this point. so I am, but very excited to get a used road bike off craigslist later this week.
thanks for following my journey! Wishing you peace, health and happiness.
kicking it up a notch this is the start of my Obliteride 2019 blog. why Obliteride? more reasons then you can shake a stick at, one might say, but primarily to do my part in speeding up the process of kicking cancer's ass once and for all. i guess, technically, "cancer" is a constellation of malignancies (let's anthropomorphize malignant cells as evil, seemingly immortal humanoids growing out of bounds and out of control) and not just one entity, but let's call it Cancer with a big C for the purposes of this crusade with a small c. i'm a physician, and a mom, and a daughter of someone that died of it, and a friend of so many who've lived with it. and yes, i've personally lived with it and fear its return. so there's that.
in any case, i'm finally looking at bikes, as weather here in the Pacific Northwest just took a turn towards the balmy, bright days of summer. last month, we had 20" of snow here on the farm, a late winter storm that kept most folks home for a few days. we've got hills and lots of inclines in this area, with geographically-influence microclimates and of course the darned "convergence zones" that you must research and ask about if ever moving to this area. (trust me.) but back to the point, winter weather is pretty tricky here and so a storm that wouldn't mean much in the well sanded, relatively flat Northeast can be life threatening here.
and that is my excuse for not training yet. long winter. it's not cool to make excuses for one's own laziness, but i don't pretend to be virtuous.
all this led to me finally going down and opening the detached garage this morning, which we use for storage (correction: i use for storage) of extra boxes from my old house. needed to clear out a good spot to keep the pending new bike. but as i opened the rickety, mural-painted garage door i saw shredded paper and fibers from a blanket my mom hand-sewed for one of my kids years ago, all in a damn pile on the concrete just inside the door. yes, then i located a small crack at the bottom of said garage door, where my anonymous, unknown winter guests made entry. so much lost. i couldn't cry, although seeing my favorite items of my kids' baby clothes in shreds on the ground was a gut punch. took me a few seconds to catch a breath- and then i was angry.
but here's the thing that makes this a part of my Obliteride journey: i'd been saving my father's medical records all these years, in a non-descript brown cardboard bankers box. my dad died of cancer in early 1989, roughly 8 years after his initial diagnosis of colon cancer. i was in high school, my sister in junior high. years later, when i was in college, i'd asked my mother to please obtain all the records from the oncologist and hospital. no particular reason, no explanation to her. but she did it, maybe thinking this would help me in some way, probably mostly because she did always try to give us the stuff we wanted if she could. And characteristically, i lugged that box around for almost 30 years, never doing a damn thing with it.
as this story continues, you probably realize by now that the box and the records were totally destroyed by the rodent infestation- turned into curly strips of paper the little pillagers used to build their little beds and nests and that sort of thing.
so now, taking a detour from looking at bikes in my price range to cleaning out the remnants of a rodent civilization. it's kinda like a rodent community struck out and colonized the space during the recent snow event, really settling in and staying a while. leaving it, as civilizations often do, ransacked.
potentially derailing moment.
but here's the thing. there's always a thing, right?
it's at that low point, the nadir of a set of tribulations, where you can bounce back in an amazing way- so that's the plan.
you can always bounce back better than before. so i will, and this concludes the first entry. thanks for coming along for the ride.