Fundraising Energizer Bunnies

We have both been extremely fortunate to reach our fundraising goals (we have passed them) and have raised a total of $14,060 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society! I am smiling as I write this! Thanks to everyone for your generosity!

Brooklyn Riders

Both Marty and I are getting cycling fever now that the ride date is in sight. We have only two more training weekends left before the ride! Most of our training ride have been in various locations in New Jersey because its the only place around that offers hills, which we need very much to prepare for Tahoe. Last weekends ride in Sandy Hook was a bit of a fiasco… due to high winds, cold temperatures, a late start, and several cyclists crashing (!).  Neither Marty or I hit the asphalt, luckily. Sandy Hook was not what it promised to be… although it is beautiful out there, we left feeling a bit defeated after a 50 mile ride in high winds. I slept in my seatbelt on the drive back to Brooklyn.

On the other hand… riding with the other Brooklyn TNT members in Prospect Park has turned out to be a high point of our week. Waking up early is not usually my idea of a good time… but I am learning that the morning is the best time for cycling! Morning in the Park is beautiful! And less crowded! We ride in a group of about 10 with Coach Felix (Calderón) in a nice paceline formation and he whips us into shape. He’s the loudest thing around in the Park… shouting “nice and easy” “relax!” “stay on that wheel!” “don’t overexert yourself” “stay in line!”… we learn tons from Felix… a great coach and he’s totally entertaining too. Now that we are getting in better cycling shape, the hill in Prospect Park barely seems like a bump.

We ride in the park Tues/Thurs. (a 13 mile spin) and do the longer rides on Saturday. This weekend we are starting from the GW bridge again… our last ride in New Jersey?

A good cause

“Last night I dreamt that I grew wings. I found a place where they could hear me when I sing.”

People often tell me that this ride is being done for a good cause. Truth be told, the cause is wonderful. One of the main inspirations for it all is my mother. Three years ago, on this day, she passed away after surviving with cancer for 5 years. I was twenty when this chapter began.

I can’t remember the exact day that we found out about her diagnosis, but I suppose those types of details don’t matter so much. I do remember the emotions, the frustration, the immaturity of my reaction, and most of all the disbelief. Not disbelief in the sense that I discounted the evidence of cancer, but rather a feeling of immortalism for my mom. She had cancer, fine. But, an angel like her wasn’t going anywhere and she surely wasn’t going to die. She was the Blarney stone in our family, weathering all storms to establish a fine patina. The immaturity I mentioned refers to my understanding of the concept of life and death, something that we struggle with eternally I suppose. I mean, there I was on my girlfriend’s Victorian porch drinking a cold beer on a hot July afternoon. I was there because we were making the final preparations for a 6 week trek to Australia; something I was intensely passionate about in that moment. Nothing could dent my life that up until this point was relatively carefree.

At that serene moment, my mother was an amazing figure in my life; a beacon of love and unyielding support. I was, as my sisters described me: “the prince,” the star in her eye. I knew it and took full advantage; confiding when I needed to, defying when mischievous, while opening when feeling proud. My admiration for her was probably masked by my seemingly independent desire to be blown by the winds of each moment; always striving to carve my own path. The only reason I caught that wind was because she had the amazing wings that shielded the strongest gusts. A dear friend described my mother with this word: wings.

With each year that passed in her sickness, I grew more aware of the summit we needed to cross. For me, the real moment came while I was fighting to keep afloat in graduate school while she suffered in her bed. This is when I realized that this book was about to close. It was Oscar night, 2005. I caught a late flight back to Syracuse, which allowed me extra time at my mother’s side in the hospital. We watched the pre-show and as stardom strutted the red carpet, I put an architecture book in my bag on my way out. My mom looked up at me. When she hadn’t said much all day, her whisper of “I’m so proud of you” rattled my nerves and independence. I held back my tears, because it is my way. They’ve been welling-up ever since.

On May 2^nd, 2005, she passed away. At the moment she left us three tears rolled down her right cheek as she stared into our eyes; emotions that she hadn’t displayed in weeks. As a friend told me today, she was closing her book and passing the lessons on to her reader – to us. Here, I had another moment, though it was more calming this time. The tears came in steady supply, and I knew that she had just passed me , my sisters, and my father her wings. The place I found was her. It was in her story as a woman that I learned. I’ve since digested her lessons and begun to comprehend that she’s not physically here any longer, but her spirit remains in those wings.