www.amandaeve.com :: A Journal

So, I didn’t like the navigation options of the new themes I tried. For now, until I see a theme that fits the design of my website, or make my own, this tried and true view of the blog is going to stay.

This year I rode my 10th MS150 Bike Ride supporting the MS Society. It was a year for many new things, and a year for breaking records!
My journey started with a flight from Portland to Denver. Even though I had to rush away from a unusually busy day at work, find new wrenches to pack my bike, and arrive at the gate all before I usually finish my work day, I arrived in plenty of time. Storms in Denver ended up delaying my flight for a few hours, so I didn’t get to bed until after 3 AM.
The next day started out rough as I realized I had no way to visit some old friends (my late arrival messed up transportation arrangements) and that I was severely behind in some paperwork. However, I refused to let that bother me. I walked to a nearby wine store and bought some wine. Next door a brand new nail salon offered a ½ off discount, so I treated myself to a mani/pedi and spent hours talking politics with some lovely ladies. One, a Filipino named Jean, I felt a special connection with. I took my bike to the BikeSource store across from Performance (I went there first and they refused to help me!) and was impressed by the friendliness and helpful advice of the technician who helped me (Maya [or something close to that] was his name). The brief visit more than motivated me to seriously pursue riding cross-country and riding on several different continents. The good-natured customer service of the area continued to impress me as I got several boxes from the North Face Store and spent some time chatting with the folks there as well.
The day kept getting better as I enjoyed the Christmas-like feeling of being reunited with many of my prized possessions in storage that I haven’t seen in over 2 years. I topped the night off with dinner with some of the greatest people on earth.
The next day Heather arrived after a hectic work week, but her enthusiasm for the MS ride was infectious! We ate a flavorful, scrumptious, and filling meal from Brothers BBQ, played with Isobel, chatted it up with Jo and Brian, and enjoyed walking down memory lane with photographs. I am unendingly impressed by the innate happiness oozing out of Isobel’s very being. Sure, she gets frightened from horrible nightmares, yeah, she has all the complaints that all 2-year-olds have (more, mine, again, no) but her capacity for spontaneous and sincere giggling is unsurpassed. Dana tells me all people are born happy, and while I don’t totally believe her, Isobel is a nod to her assertion!
The night before the ride strangled Heather, Jo, and I with anxiety and energy. It was great, but it was also scary. You’d think after riding 9 of these I’d loose a little of the pre-ride jitters, but they are just as intimidating before ride ten as they were before ride one.
I wanted to wake up at 4:30AM for out 4:50AM departure, but Heather woke me up at 4 without sympathy. The fact that I rolled out of bed and stubled about cheerily with her is a declaration to my unstoppable good mood.
We started riding at 6:15 with the baker’s dozen of team Teletech; Jo’s co-workers in stride. We got the honorable privalidge to join team ?? and start the ride out with Colorado’s famous Governor Ritter. Aparently he is a positive bicycling promoter in the state. I feel great gratitude for him to extend his support to all the people out there with MS. Neither Jo nor I got to see Governor Ritter, but Jo did proudly wear Colorado state flag socks in honor of him. Heather, the speed demon, did manage to catch up with him briefly and snap a photo.
The ride, following scenic roads from Westminster to Fort Collins wasn’t that impressive. I didn’t see any wildlife (other than a deer buck weaving through riders as he crossed the street ahead of me) or any interesting road kill (one gutted rabbit and a large bird). We passed no interesting landmarks, buildings or natural features. But I can’t ignore the mountains. The Flatirons followed us in the distance like snowy white ballerinas against a rigid, black backdrop. I swear they danced. Every glance in their direction left me feeling like I just took a deep breath of oxygenated air. The effects of pedaling like mad at 7,000 feet elevation were offset by the beauty (a beauty effectively the opposite of “breathtaking”)! On the way home, Pikes Peak danced in front of me like the prima ballerina in Swan Lake.
The perfectly blue sky for both days of the ride amazed all of us. Flooding rain and hail storms from the days before threatened our confidence in the weather. The several feet of rainfall in a matter of hours flooded several homes and even took the lives of some house pets in Cherry Creek. The storms came and went suddenly, but they were unforgiving in there ferocity. I thought the ride was destined to be ruined by Biblical storms, purely on the basis that I brought no rain gear and that my race-y bike, without fenders, performs poorly in the rain. However, mother nature took pity on us charitable do-gooders, and blessed us with a full weekend of weather strait from Eden. Our morning started out in the crisp mid-50s; cool, but not uncomfortable. It slowly rose to the seventies by 10AM, my most comfortable riding time both days. After that it got progressively hotter, with it feeling downright warm by noon. However, neither day reached unpleasant hotness. Both Heather and I could not have been more thankful for starting out our rode riding lives the hard way (on poorly equipped cheap mountain bikes) for the joy we felt finishing by noon both days. Even if storms or epic heat hit the weekend, we were both safe from it because of our early finish times. Both of us, equally matched in speed and skill (even though we haven’t ridden together in years!) also felt so lucky and nearly euphorically overjoyed to both have not only improved so much in fitness and skill in the past several years, but that both of us have improved our financial status so much that we were both able to have lightweight road bikes to put us ahead of the pack. While 3-hour finishers were a plenty, Heather and I figured we were in the top 10% considering the size of the ride (over 3000 riders!). I know I would have felt more confident had I trained more, but the perfect weather, dreamily smooth roads, and years of experience minimized any drawbacks from my lack of training. I filled my pockets with Ibuprofen, but didn’t need any on either day. Day 2 I felt fatigued, and brain dead, but nothing to the extent I felt in rides past. My rear got a little sore, some muscles got a little tight, but nothing noticeable and nothing that demanded my attention. I am overwhelmed by the graciousness of luck I’ve been granted, to live in a first world country, and to live in comfort so that I have opportunity to do something like ride a bike as a means for purely self-serving fitness, and as a means to support people living in ways no one should ever have to experience, such as living with the symptoms of MS. I wonder how long my body will be able to do things that bring me such elation, but I try to focus more on the joy I feel than the fear of loosing such a pleasure.
Jo didn’t have the opportunity to prioritize her training, or focus on the challenge of a first time ride. She did not finish, and I know she wishes she did, but I am so amazed at how well she’s been keeping herself together with everything that she and her family have been through recently. Having her bike stolen just at the start of training season would have been enough to put into months of downward spiral, and yet, that was the least stressful thing that’s happened to her. I am impressed by her strength, and the focus she put into keeping her family on the top of her list of priorities.
Long and strenuous rides like the MS 150 bring out heroin-like highs, but they also bring out Mother-Theresa-like floods of compassion and loving. I wish there was a way to pour the compassion I feel into a bubbling cauldron and serve it to Jo (and everyone like her) struggling with loss, and love, and stress. I wish I at least knew the words to say or the things to do to extend even a piece of this feeling to them.
Early in the ride I passed an older woman steadily peddling with a beautiful eye-catching jersey. In deep yet bright colors a brilliant purple neuron was splayed across her back with the dendrites wrapping around the rest of her torso. A orange diagonal banner read, “I ride with MS”. Okay, so MS comes in many different varieties. Some people are Chronic-Progressive or wheel-chair bound days from diagnosis, some live with horrible symptoms but still manage to function in society for years, some are like my mother who are Secondary-Progressive; lucky but unable to work, or are essentially untreatable. And many are Relapsing-Remitting, who suffer disabling relapses, but are basically symptom-free most of the time. I figure people who do these rides, or are out and about achieving greatness are these relapsing-remitting types. So really, their accomplishments are no more impressive than mine (for the time being). And yet, when I saw her, I fell apart. Having just ridden through the starting corral with Queen (the essential ride-start music band) blasting through loudspeakers, and volunteers cheering us on, the ride start high pumped through all my blood vessels. Since the ride high took care of all my blood-pumping needs, my heart had a chance to do nothing but feeeeeeeeel. The last thing I wanted to do was demean her as I passed her, so I hoped a cheer would come well to her. Even if it didn’t, I couldn’t help it. I passed her with my Billy Idol arm pumping the air, and the best cheerleader “WHOO HOOO!!!” I could muster.
And that, well, that was it. After that, I felt like a manic Tourettes’ victim the entire ride. I couldn’t stop. I “WHOOO HOOOO”-d every blue-shirted volunteer. I “THANNNNK YOOUUUU!”-d every grumbling cop begrudgingly sacrificing a day of crime-fighting for traffic control. I complimented EVERY pair of interesting socks, quirky team slogan, unique jersey design, and back-seat riding stuffed animal I passed. I “ON your Left”-ed like the world was deaf. I “CARRRR BACK”ed like I alone was responsible for all road pancake prevention. I know I drove people crazy. I know I yelled so much I nearly lost my voice. I couldn’t help it. The heart couldn’t be capped. Not now.
I recognized many teams from my 3 previous Colorado MS 150 rides. I felt like I was at a family reunion, except I’ve never met any of these people. I saw many “Raw Hines” with bull horns attached to their helmets. Helmet flair is a good thing. It helps you to easily identify teams in the crowd. That must have been the motivation behind the “Coneheads” with orange safety cones stuck to their helmets. I saw a lot of Sugar Bees and laughed at how their motivational signs had the opposite effect years ago. Speaking of Bees, I saw some team Honey Sticker and reminded myself of how much I want to promote their product. I didn’t see much of MegaSaurass, or Milin’ for Myelin, some of my old favorites.
After the ride Saturday I met many of Jo’s riding co-workers who I joined as part of Team Teletech. They were fun, friendly, self-conscious, exuberant, and really liked beer (who doesn’t, right?) While their work squabbles made me feel like I worked in a Concentration Camp, I fully enjoyed their company.
I now have 2 recommendations for any new rider. The first was ride with a road bike, but not a good one so you can appreciate the difference quality components make. The second is ride with other people. Even if you just met those people on ride day, and you don’t see them again until the end of the ride, it makes the ride 100% more enjoyable. If you can imagine how fun this was for me, you have a great imagination, considering I’ve done most of my training and most of my event riding alone and loved it 100% then.
I know I sound dramatic. I know I sound severe writing this. Yeah, I am a melodramatic person, but there’s more that that. I think now after having such great and such awful experiences I identify with the modern crusaders; you know, those people who are so passionate about their cause they tie themselves to railroad tracks or stand on street corners and plead their belief. Those people set you off, their passion turns you away. It’s too much; it’s too deep. You just want to yell at them, “CHILL OUT already!!!” But, wow, to experience the breadth of joy and pain, or elation and sorrow as you do on a weekend like this, so many extremes back to back, you can’t help but realize that THIS is living. This is what life is about.
A woman sat in an electric wheel chair at the finish. Her face was stuck in an uncomfortable looking position. Her toothpick legs were tied up in bandages. Friends held umbrellas over her head and kept her skin cool. Her eyes traced each cyclist cross the finish line. Her body showed no movement, not a hint of emotion. The only way I knew she was alive was her eyes. All I could think was how her life must be a living hell. Is she comfortable? Is she burning up inside, her internal temperature control long gone? If she is melting inside, is there any way she can tell anyone? Does she ever have relief? Yet passing her every second was a spandex-glad athlete pedaling thousands of dollars of high-tech composites. Their sweaty, red, tired faces bled the sense of accomplishment that only those who cross that finish line know. Children cheered as loud at they could, waving pom poms in the air. The complex emotion from a sight like that is overwhelming. But this, in a nutshell, is life. Life is suffering. Life is letting go. Life is triumph and accomplishment. Love and hate. Joy and sorrow. All wrapped up in one.

STATS:
Total money raised for MS:
People with MS in Colorado:
People with MS in the USA:
Riders in Colorado:
Day One Stats:

The blog was begging for a facelift. I tried to tell it it looked just fine the way it was, but it wouldn’t take no for an answer. Following in my tried and true webpage motto, “who needs content when the looks are slick” here goes a little upgrade…

I didn’t feel particularly attached to ridingSalem Bicycle Club’s Monster Cookie Metric Century again. I rode it in 2006, but this week has been a great week for riding and I’ve been feeling unusually motivated. So, I did the ride with a vengeance-I had a new personal best; average 17.2 mph. Once I got started and realized I had a fast average, I couldn’t let it slip. It felt good to be the one saying, “n your left” instead of the one having to hear it over and over. I should have counted how many people I said “On your left” to, because I am thinking it must have been 300. And, boy did that feel good! The whole ride was an active-meditation. I felt like me and the bike were a single machine, functioning in perfect harmony. My body cooperated remarkably well, too. When I said pedal, my feet pedaled. When I said “push” my thighs pushed. I felt aligned, natural, and in perfect connection as my body did not argue once with my brain.
Having cool, windless, overcast weather is a great aid. There was nothing to distract me from my perfect meditation; no hills, no wind, no cold, no hot, no obnoxious people or cars.
I wish I made comment about how many people rode the Monster Cookie in 2006, because this year’s ride seemed several times larger. The last time I don’t remember waiting in line to register. Today I waited for 40 minutes! I remember the ride being heavily ridden by the male boomer set; dedicated steady riders. But this year, I was was pleasantly surprised to see families, young kids, couples, men and women of every age. As I so love the unity I feel by a large group simultaneously tasking toward the same goal, just like in marching band, I loved even more seeing the diverse group of people.
My pops met me again for lunch. He makes the best lunches to go in the whole wide world, and has ever since I was in first grade. I can always count on him for a good lunch and today’s did not disappoint. I ended up chillin’ with him for quite a while at Champoeg State Park. Then, at my last stop, a very excited employee of mine called me to let me know he got the final cut for a reality show called “America’s Got Talent.” It was exciting listening to him embarking on the chance of a lifetime. He’s been singing for 30 years and this is his dream.

Stats:
Time Taken: 03:33:00
Total Distance: 62 mi.
Effort: Hard
Quality: Great
Speed: 17.2 (mi/hr) (avg)
elevation: 358 ft