2010 LIVESTRONG Challenge - Philly (Blue Bell, PA, August 22, 2010)

As part of Team LIVESTRONG, I participated in the "LIVESTRONG Challenge – Philly" event and the fight against cancer. I cycled nearly 50 miles to raise funds to support the LIVESTRONG Foundation’s programs and services, which inspire and empower people affected by cancer. The funds raised by Team LIVESTRONG support a public health effort to address the issues faced by cancer survivors – and hopefully find a cure someday.

I rode in memory of my Mom, who died of cancer at the early age of 55, and my dog Lucky, who died of cancer three weeks before the event.

The 3,000 riders collectively raised $3.1 million for the LIVESTRONG Foundation, a new record. I am grateful to my family and friends who sponsored my ride, and for their generous contributions to the fight against cancer.

It was an awesome experience. Lance Armstrong led the cyclists out onto the course and rode the event with us. Severe thunderstorms, torrential downpours, flooding on the roads, and strong winds made the riding conditions treacherous and dangerous – but couldn’t dampen the enthusiasm of the participants. Like Lance, I rode the 45-mile course (yet somehow ended up riding over 48 miles). Despite the shorter distance, the course was challenging. My leg muscles suffered as we rode the constant steep hills and did over 4,000 feet of climbing. I fought severe leg cramps during much of the last half of the ride. But I refused to give up.

As I rode, I reflected on the fact that this ride really wasn’t about the physical challenge for me. It was about the fight against cancer. I was starkly reminded of this by the many cancer survivors who had joined the ride. You can’t imagine how inspiring – and humbling – it was to ride alongside a man who had a chemotherapy treatment four days earlier... the two of us battling up a steep hill together on our bikes (and he with a smile on his face!). How insignificant my struggle with leg cramps seemed! His courage was exhibited by others. I learned later about another man who had his most recent chemo treatment two days earlier, but was determined to go 10-20 miles. I’m sure there were many others like him.

As one rider said to me while we were out on the course, "Someday if we’re battling cancer ourselves, we’ll look back on this and remember them and hope that we have the same courage they do today."

Their courage and their battles with cancer were why 3,000 of us were out there that day.

I am only one of thousands of members of Team LIVESTRONG, but working together, we are making a difference. Livestrong!

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2009 Sea Gull Century (Salisbury, MD, October 2009)

I learned a lot about myself this day. I went the distance -- despite limited training, as well as rain, intense winds for the last 40 miles, and chilly weather. Although nervous at the start about my lack of conditioning, I knew I could go the distance. Faced with the challenging conditions, I broke the ride apart in my mind into more manageable 10-mile increments. I refused to quit. And I went the distance. I successfully completed my fifth consecutive Sea Gull Century.

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2008 Sea Gull Century (Salisbury, MD, October 2008)

My performance on the bike greatly improved in 2008 season. The season culminated with a personal-best of 6:11:02 in the Sea Gull Century, improving over my previous best time by over 30 minutes. Once again, I got to share the ride with Jeff Frithsen. Our ride culminated with the two of us crossing the finish line together, hands raised and clasped together.

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2007 Sea Gull Century (Salisbury, MD, October 2007)

I returned in 2007 for another terrific ride at the Sea Gull Century. And I finally was able to enjoy sunny weather the entire ride!

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2006 Sea Gull Century (Salisbury, MD, October 2006)

I made a triumphant return to the Sea Gull Century in 2006. Riding with my friend Jeff Frithsen, I completed the 100-mile course without any mishaps or crashes. The exhilaration showed on my face at the finish line.

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2005 Sea Gull Century (Salisbury, MD, October 2005)

The weather was a cyclist’s nightmare. Torrential rains and strong winds pounded my body. But I pushed forward. This was my first 100-mile "century" ride and the end of a long personal quest. I was determined to succeed. The miles slipped by beneath me – 20, 50, 70 -- and after nearly six hours, the finish line was within reach. Then, suddenly, a gust of wind whipped the bike out from under me and slammed me to the ground. My helmet cracked open as my head hit the road, and I slid along the pavement with the bike on top of me. I gasped for air, unable to catch my breath, and blacked out. As I slowly regained consciousness, I lay sprawled on the ground, badly bruised and shaken. But I could think of just one thing: I was only 25 miles from the finish line. I was so close. I had to go the distance…

I dragged myself off the ground, got back on the bike, and slowly started pedaling. I was determined to finish, and finish I did. But this time, I didn’t even attempt to raise my arms in triumph as I crossed the finish line. It would have been too painful. As I coasted to a stop, I was filled with mixed emotions. I was sad that my first century ride had been marred by a crash. And I was concerned about the potential severity of my injuries. But I was also filled with a sense of pride. I had accomplished something I had never done before. I had ridden 100 miles. I had gone the distance. 

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2005 Bike New York Tour  (New York City, May 2005)

On a rainy Sunday morning in May, my friend Jeff Frithsen and I lined up behind the starting line in downtown Manhattan. The light rain couldn’t dampen our enthusiasm. The starting gun fired, and the mass of cyclists around us moved forward with shouts of enthusiasm. Hundreds of spectators lined the route and cheered us on. What a thrill it was! This was our day, and we cycled through the streets of Manhattan, all of which were closed to traffic. We rode, en masse, past the Empire State Building, Radio City Music Hall, and other landmarks, and into Central Park.

I was energized. My speed increased as the crowd of cyclists began to disperse. I sped from borough to borough and enjoyed the rich texture of the city’s neighborhoods. Spectators greeted us everywhere. Older couples quietly applauded while children waved and "high fived" us as we rode through the Bronx. Bystanders shouted "Welcome to Brooklyn!" beneath signs proclaiming "Brooklyn, the Better Borough." And the theme music from Rocky blared from the apartment window of a spectator in Astoria Park, while a group of Hassidic children stood silently and watched us go by in Queens.

The time passed quickly. Three hours into the ride, I sped down the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway toward the Verrazano Bridge. Adrenalin rushed through me as I started up the bridge. Despite strong winds, I pedaled steadily to the top. The months of mental and physical training paid off. As I crested the Verrazano, I gazed around at the Statue of Liberty and Manhattan Island. I was exhilarated. I knew I had reached my goal. I sped downhill into Staten Island and raised my arms in jubilation as I crossed the finish line.