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

Stan Goff observes that we mark the passage of time with clocks, watches, and oven timers. We watch patiently as the time evolves in the corner of our computer screens. Managing time is easy for most of us. We can learn how to acquire a new skill efficiently in any given day, or to sauté the perfect ramps in under two minutes. However, no one ever teaches us how to mark and process the passing of life, and of death: the most illusive measure of time. This sneaks up on us, and only going through our own physical, psychological, and emotional losses can our brains and figurative hearts learn to accept death and even learn from it.

Four years ago, on this day, my mother 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. I also remember the phone call: “Marty, it’s your sister.” I remember the rope in my stomach. John Updike would describe it like a rope that keeps twisting; it develops a kink; then a loop leaps into it, like when Rabbit found out about his daughter’s death. This loop that resided in my own body kept me still – emotionally and physically – for years, trying to understand what this new surreal reality meant. 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.

At the time of her diagnosis I thought of a saying similar to her own: “The best is for the best.” But, I was inclined to think “the best can be damned.” The immaturity I mentioned above refers to my understanding of the concept of life and death, something that we struggle with eternally I suppose. I mean, there I was – 20 years old – on my girlfriend’s Victorian porch sipping a cold beer on a sunny July afternoon. Nothing could dent my life, which up until that 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. The youngest boy in an Irish family dominated by strong women, I wanted independence, so I ducked the title of mom’s boy while silently basking in it. Only later in life did I realize how lucky I was to have been born into that privilege. 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 her 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.

A bitter melody, turning our orbit around.

On May 2nd, 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. She was closing her book and passing the lessons onto her reader – to us. Here, I had another moment, though it was more calming this time. The tears came less grudgingly, 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.

As I grew older I respected her beauty more and more. She was protective, open, understanding, and compassionate. Her life and persona were humble and in that quietness was inherent, center stage beauty. She taught me how to live, how to learn, to be patient, how to love, and how to give. Of course I continue to battle with each of these, but I do strive to find her endless grace and elegance in my own life. One of the most remarkable things about this story is that her lessons were learned through listening and watching an inspired and beautiful life. Well, how often can we actually say that we’ve learned from someone who truly lives her lessons? I will never fill the void of this woman in my life, and would never want to. I can only hope to have lasting, unconditional love – as much as she had – for I’ve slowly learned that the true mark of a man is how much he can love, not how much he can be loved.

So, now I continue to learn and to process this new clock of mine. A friend gave me that Stan Goff article I referred to,  with the footnote to read ‘only if you have the time.’  We have nothing but time in life [before it runs out], so I read it over and over again. She couldn’t have imagined how much it all means to me. I’ve realized that each day is just a tiny moment on a really long timeline. Some of us stay longer on this line than others, but it shouldn’t matter because in some ways this life is all just so temporary. I think that we all live alone, in solitude, until we die but should never really act like it. Another friend wrote me today and said that I’m lucky to have such loving people around me. That much I can claim, and so, I smiled when I was reminded. I’m also reminded today that we all have these amazing lives. If we have something to fight for and it’s larger than us as individuals then we should fight for it before we do die; alone again. Like the white dogwoods on my block, our lives can always just bloom because we can learn from the people we care about, and we can always look forward to new moments if we let go of our fears, allow ourselves to be affected, and as such, continue to grow while really living.

I’ve begun to digest my mom’s lessons and only now comprehend that she’s not physically here any longer, but her spirit remains in those wings.

i thought it was spring, but it’s still quite cold at 545 am. it’s freezing!  i was a little beat after this early ride friday but after i finished my coffee on the front stoop, i was ready for work, and it’s amazing what a 1 hour ride can do with like 4 hours of sleep.

i forgot after this incredibly awful and long winter, but riding in the morning is beautiful! the sun is so so low in prospect park, kind of skimming between the tree trunks, across the sheep’s meadow, illuminating the lake with this orange, purplish glow. sleepy landscapes like this totally rejuvenate your soul. i had the best day after this ride. okay, now i’m defrosted…and, off to work.

so, we just started rolling in the park this weekend and it was pretty amazing to get back on the seat. we took the photo after our ride on saturday with another brooklyn cycling mate. we’re both super psyched to get on the open road soon – planning some long rides in westchester, vermont, and a century or metric in the north fork wine country of long island!

we decided -rather wisely- to take this TNT season off so that we can focus on other things that are so important to us.

for both wendy and i that means spending serious time and energy thinking about design. over the next six months we’ll both be preparing for our licensure exam in landscape architecture, which we’ll start taking in the fall! whoa! we’re also going to focus on publishing some of our recent design work on urban agriculture.  i’m also in the midst of another fund-raising effort for my mom’s memorial garden, which i’ll post about shortly!

not to be a story topper, or attention hog, BUT, i also used the awful economic conditions as an excuse to pump some money back into the system. just as the credit markets were seizing-up and the dow was reaching new depths, i dipped into my war chest and bought a nice new bianchi.

she’s a bianchi 928 carbon C2C and she makes me happy. her name is bella.

Landscapers are collecting bikes! What better investment can you make when the economy is in the toilet? My motto is: if I had a million dollars I would go for a bike ride… if I lost all my money I would have a drink and go for a bike ride.

I decided to go fixed gear for my daily commute to work. Its an awesome way to start the day. I now have my favorite route into Union Square and my black fixie gets me there smiling… happy riding!

Remember us? The Landscapers are still at it. This weekend we rode our third century of the season… the Tri State Seacoast ride through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine. It was a lovely autumn ride going north along the coast…. with brutal headwinds on the return south to New Hampshire. Exhausting! The Landscapers’ training had, um, slackened a bit over the summer… although one of us was still maintaining a pretty good training routine. We definitely took this ride a little lighter than the other two… and actually I enjoyed it more! We slept a bit later (to 7:30 am…as we arrived at midnight the night before) took a long lunch, and stopped to goof as much as we wanted. Stretched the ride out to 7.5 hours, had a lobster dinner, bought Marty a large Dunkin Donuts coffee for the road, and made it back to Brooklyn at 1:00 am. Are we NUTS? YES!

These photos are all out of order, but I kind of like them that way. Enjoy.

Landscapers can’t stop riding! Last weekend Marty and I went for our second 100 mile ride in June! We rode with a group of TNT riders to Montauk, at the tip of Long Island, from Babylon. The route through the Hamptons was beautiful, filled with the scent of those electric pink roses and honeysuckle on the roadsides. And it was flat flat flat! Both Marty and I actually found it to be more difficult than the ride in Tahoe, maybe because we were both out drinking too much the week before, or maybe because the route was so flat we didn’t get enough variety in our posture… that makes for seven hours of sitting in the saddle … Landscapers behinds say ouch!

OK, enough about the ride… what I really want to post about is the victory dinner. Marty’s family met the Landscapers in Montauk and MJ Barry II treated us to a fabulous dinner of champagne, lobster, and key lime pie at a wonderful restaurant overlooking the water. Perfect way to end the day and get over the crazy mix of road food we had eaten on the ride. Awesome dinner.

Wait, it gets better! The following morning we got back on our bikes and went to the beach for a swim!!! This was a brisk swim, but really got the heart pumping. Rough surf, as skies were a bit stormy. Here’s the lifeguard…

Next ride the Landscapers are looking forward to is the SeaCoast ride in September!

Tonight about 21 of us from the Tahoe TNT descended on a local Park Slope restaurant called Aunt Suzies for a Thank You dinner for Felix Calderon and his wife Chris, two very cool and generous people in the local cycling community. It was a totally special night for all of us, and a great way to show our appreciation for all the help that Felix has given us. We all came to TNT as total amateurs, and Felix has donated his time and energy to help get our butts in shape to ride as a competent team. At times, when I see our Brooklyn team riding together with Felix in Prospect Park, I am surprised at how far we’ve come.

If you don’t know about Felix yet, let me explain to you what he does. Felix has an excellent understanding of how bikes and bodies should work together. This is what we all know to be the most essential part of cycling. He can fit your bike to your body like a glove. But another thing Felix understands so well is how groups of people should work together… he has a great sense of team dynamics and how individuals should work together to become a strong team. When you ride with Felix he operates on dual levels… he watches you individually, correcting your posture and movements, but he also constantly helps keep you in sync with the rest of your teammates. And he doesn’t take any shit!  Oh yeah, and I should also add that he operates on a third level while you ride with him… he has a wild sense of humor and is always cutting up! So with these three qualities, what is there not to like??

Thinking about buying a road bike? Or maybe you have one already and you’re not sure about the fit? Believe me, in most cases when you leave the bike shop on your bike it has not been fitted to your body with care. It has most likely been put together by someone who doesn’t really know what they are doing. Soon your body will start to rebel against your contorted posture on the bike. Getting a professional fitting is one of the best things you can do for the relationship between you and your bike. Think of it as therapy. And Felix is the therapist. Some adjustments are major, some minor, and some barely perceptible. He will spend 10 minutes adjusting one cleat! I’m not kidding. Alignment is everything when Felix is dealing with your bike/body relationship. After two hours working with Felix on my bike I left his house feeling like I had a totally new bike, and I could BREATHE better while I rode. The correct posture will open up your upper body so you can breathe better, which is, I believe, the key to success in any cardiovascular sport. Economizing your energy through proper breathing. Another benefit to correct posture is that you look cooler, more gangster, not like a Sunday rider with your head up in the trees!

Riding with Felix is a total blast. If you just talk to him in the context of the bike shop (R&A Cycles) you will  never understand the real Felix… you HAVE to ride with him. He meets his team at 5:45 am with hot tea and cookies in the winter. Everyone stays together in formation while he takes time to correct everybody, and in the beginning, the slowest rider sets the pace. His attentiveness is the mark of a good coach. He will NEVER leave you behind like some coaches do; when he rides with his team he rides FOR the team. If you are riding with him through Brooklyn on a Sunday, there will be no person at home left sleeping in his wake… he shouts directions, directs traffic, and generally howls for the hell of it, like a mad biker leading his team. Its a hoot!

Felix is the owner of New York Cycling in New York City. He does private fittings on his own trainer and does the training rides around Brooklyn. He has been riding since he was a kid, I’m not gonna guess how long ago that was because his age is none of your business

He has put both Marty and I on the trainer and we are both confirmed fans of his expertise. If you are a cyclist of any level, we highly recommend a visit to Felix… it is one of the best investments you will make and you will love your bike even more afterwards!

Website: New York Cycling

It is with much happiness and relief that I report that the ride in Tahoe was one of the most amazing experiences in my life. The whole weekend was full of good cycling vibes and we had awesome weather! And what a bonding experience for the whole team!

Our NYC team is a cast of characters from all over the city with two goals in common… helping raise money for cancer research and completing the Century. We all slogged through the early mornings (ugh) and long hills with unphased team spirit. And thank goodness my camera didn’t go completely on the fritz so I could get a few photos along the way.

The flight to Reno was long and uneventful…although luckily I was able to get my (over-3 oz.) chamois cream past airport security at JFK by the skin of my teeth, and we did have a super bumpy landing in Reno. The bus ride to Tahoe was serene in comparison. On the way into town one of the casino signs advertised a tribute to a singer from the 70’s that we all love…you guessed it… Neil Diamond… and we started singing Cracklin Rosie… and couldn’t stop singing it all weekend. It became the anthem of our Century weekend. Our hotel was a mob scene of TNT cyclists from all over the country wheeling their bikes in all directions… quite a scene, reminding us of some kind of Grateful Dead festival for cyclists, with the hotel even providing courtesy towels for the bikes. Despite the tight schedule set by TNT for the weekend, it seemed like Marty and I always found enough time to slack off. We were perpetually late, missed the pre-ride pasta dinner (by accident) and never had the right passes, tickets, or whatever was required for entry to anything. Slackers! We relied on the good graces of others to find meeting points and follow schedules… our Brooklyn buddy Tracey proved to be invaluable in this respect. She would call and text us both 10 times a day to find out where we were and get our butts where they were supposed to be. We have to admit, the most difficult part of the weekend was waking up early in the morning every day.

The day after we arrived we went for a warm up ride on the first part of the route… up the first short but steep climb to Inspiration Point that looks down on Emerald Bay…

Tahoe is spectacular for cycling… clean air, green lake, and the intoxicating scent of pines all around. Everyone was so amped to get on the road after a week away from their bikes. Me and Marty both felt good and the climb gave us confidence for the next day when we rode the full distance. We could definitely feel the altitude… I was breathing in double time at the top of the hill! Hsiao-Chien and Horng- Shen Tu came out from San Francisco for a couple of nights to enjoy Tahoe and cheer us on.

Food Report: Of course I brought about 5 pounds of my own food and power bars to fuel us over the weekend… I always ride with dried mangos and bananas stuffed in my pockets. Otherwise the food in Tahoe was hit or miss. We had an excellent sushi dinner on Friday at The Naked Fish restaurant: fresh oysters, sesame tuna, black cod, and a tempura cheesecake and red bean mochi for dessert. Who would imagine there would be great sushi in Tahoe? We both thought the meal and service were far superior to New York sushi!

The Century: Go Team! The New York TNT team was the first team in line at the starting point… that means that we had wake up at 4:00 am to be lined up at 5:50 am to lead the pack. We started off nice and steady, and by the time we passed Hsiao-Chien and Horng-Shen they were standing out in front of their B&B in pajamas cheering us on…:). The second time up the switchbacks was a little more difficult than the day before… partly because of the anticipation, but still not a problem. The SAG provisions at the rest stops were awesome… I gorged on fresh fruit at each one. At about mile 20, Marty’s knee started flaring up a bit so we decided to slow the pace, although he never does…seems like he goes faster. The journey along the west side was really lovely in the morning, I’m not sure what the temperature was, but we had to wear layers. We didn’t start to peel layers until the detour to Truckee, which is about mile 50.

The bike path to Truckee…was lovely…calm and tranquil riding along a shallow stream. No struggle to pass others, just a sort of pleasant drifting along. The path eventually merged to a road that ended up at a rest stop at a shopping center that was a mob scene of bikes and people stretched out all over the parking lot.

Photo: Stu Goldstein

Rest stops usually lasted long enough to relieve ourselves, eat and hydrate, and then wander around for 5 mins trying to find each other which was quite a task since everyone wears the same jersey (except me). My size xtra-small jersey was too big for me, so I refused to wear it. By the time we got to mile 50, sunscreen was in order… and lots of it!

The ride back from the Truckee stop was a total slog. The reason they do this detour is that the ride around the lake is not 100 miles, so this completes the Century. I hadn’t realized that the pleasure of riding on a slight incline on the way to Truckee would turn into an annoying ride on the way back. But soon enough we were back onto route 89, making our way around the lake.

Lunch stop: somewhere around mile 70… A lovely lunch spot for hundreds of cyclists!

Thats me, Marty, and Tracey enjoying the breeze and taking a tan…

After lunch: The Hill to Spooner Pass… Now the fun starts! The hill to Spooner is a dreaded 8 mile hill. I surprisingly passed lots of folks walking their bikes here. It was slow going for sure, but very zen. I kept telling myself: no bike, no hill. They offer a rest+water stop midway up the hill, and the conversation went like this: “Hey MJ, wanna stop? I am so tired…” with the reply ” I can’t stop” and then a shrug “ok, lets go!” and off we went! Lots of shouting, huffing and puffing, but we made it to the pass and then continued all the way to the finish without a rest. Lemme tell you how fun it is to ride down from Spooner Pass! We were screaming down those hills so fast and with such relief I had tears in my eyes! Computer says that my maximum speed was 37 mph! Yow!

When the computer says mile 95 I am a very happy girl. And when the high-rise hotels of South Lake Tahoe come into view, I scream. Looking at the Lake, and the other shore, which you can barely see in the distance, makes me realize that this is a very formidable bike journey and we have done it! We are practically there! And no flats along the way!

The finish line… Landscapers rolling through…

This was a great moment. Then Marty and I treated ourselves to a 10 minute massage right away at an on-site masseuse. Then, dazed, we collected ourselves and got ready for dinner.

That night we gorged on bread and cheese fondue, before Hsiao-Chien and Horng- Shen Tu and Marty ate escargot for the first time. YUM. The snails were a preview of the good dishes that followed, shrimp scampi and pasta alfredo: we couldn’t help but indulge the heavy cream sauce. Eyes were definitely droopy and faces were red from wind and sun. On the walk back to the hotel we all caught an eyeful of the bright stars that we never get to see back home. A beautiful day for Americas most beautiful bike ride!

If you are now convinced that you should join forces with Team in Training for the Lake Tahoe Century ride next year, you may direct any questions that you have to me or Marty… we would love to have you join us in 2009!

Go Team!!

To see the complete photo log of the trip, use this link: Landscapers Lake Tahoe Century Album

America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride. You know, I never questioned whether this would be a beautiful ride. But, what a statement. To claim that something was the most beautiful of all others in America; this huge and wonderous landscape. Wow. Before this weekend, I knew the lake, mostly the west and north shore in winter. I agreed that it was wonderful. Although, until our Saturday training ride to Inspiration Point I failed to recognize what I didn’t know. The lake in early summer is magical. And yes, probably the most beautiful continuous sequence of landscapes that I have ever seen. The intoxicating smells of pine and sage brush, being carried by the cool mountain breeze; the rumble of snow melt waterfalls tumbling violently over the rocks, cascading hundreds of feet in a mesmerizing swirl down to Emerald Bay. Riding through the canyons of pine trees into the blue bird skies and 70 degree summer sun surrounded by snow caps and water in countless shades of green and blue was as near to bliss as I have ever been. Of course the emotional pull of the cause was tugging at my soul, but still, this was simply amazing.

On Saturday night, we had a team meeting after the team dinner that we missed! Wendy sends me a text: “Let’s get out of here!” I felt the same way. BORRR-RING. Then, some of our teammates started to rise and talk about why they were riding for TNT, for cancer. Grown men in their 40s and 50s; women spanning generations: crying about loved ones, or simply about the energy of the ride. There were lots of tears shed around that room, and it all came back to me why I was sitting there; why I was in Lake Tahoe for a bike ride. I spent the previous three months in rigorous training, worrying about whether I had it in me to conquer the the now infamous Inspiration Point and Spooner’s Junction inclines. I spent my lunches at Sid’s Bike Shop buying-up gear, and getting tune-ups. We were so consumed with getting in shape for Sunday that when we got there, I almost forgot that we were there for cancer. Now, I thought about my mom and her endless grace and unconditional love. I thought of that moment when she whispered about how proud she was, even when she could barely speak. I thought of Kevin. Kev taught me how to ski, to really ski well when we went to Utah and Colorado in when I was in college. He taught me to love skiing so that I went to Tahoe to live and ski after college. Now, being back there for this ride, I couldn’t help but think that I had come full-circle. I had made life-long friends with my bud Wendy, who now also lived with cancer. This was an incredibly powerful moment for everyone in the room. I went right for a hug with Wendy immediately after the meeting let out.

As we got ready at 430 am, with headphones in my ears I danced and jumped to Paint it Black, and scarfed down some hard boiled eggs and two bananas [my ritual cycling meal]. Before the sun came up over the Sierra Nevadas to the east we headed to the start line both singing Neil Diamond’s Cracklin’ Rosie. Wendy and I had been reciting the lines to the classic all weekend. Sing it now! “Cracklin’ Rosie, get on board. We’re gonna ride till there ain’t no more to go. Takin’ it slow, Lord don’t you know.” I sang this countless times on the ride. It was personal for me. Anyone who’s spent some time with my family over the summer knows that Jim will inevitably grab his guitar and play all night while rest of us tank the words to Neil Diamond songs, among others. It’s a song that reminds me of my family, and central to our family is my mother and Kevin. It is surely the reason why this song was in my head.

Inspiration Point was the first serious climb, rising nearly 500 feet in less than two miles. I screamed really loud as I peeled down the other side, rolling through sweeping turns while checking out the sun which had now peaked above the snow capped ridge of the east shore. On the way north, past Homewood, about 7 of us, mostly Brooklyn rough riders, formed a paceline to get us up to Tahoe City. This is when one rider takes the lead, and “pulls” the others behind. The front rider takes the brunt of the wind for a few minutes, riding 100 percent, while the others ride the draft using about 75% effort. Our coaches would have been proud, seeing a perfect paceline with about 15 NYC riders on the windy Truckee return, taking short pulls at the head position. It was beautifully executed and as we passed other teams we heard chants of “GO NY, GO NY. Looking good.”

As I tore up the road on the way down to King’s Beach for lunch, my energy was gone. This was about mile 65, and I needed to eat a meal, so eat I did. Two sandwiches, two handfuls of salted potatoes, two bags of chips, two brownies and tons of water. My bud Will met us there with water and gatorade and we spent about 1.5 hours in the sun talking and laughing with him.

The break was great, but I did not need the extra weight going up the hardest climb of the trip: the dreaded Sponner’s Junction. 8 miles up a 1000 foot elevation change, with brownies and chips floating in my belly. With each small hill that preceded Spooner I wondered, “Is this the start of it?” Then, we’d hit an opening in the trees and see clear across the crystal clear water of Lake Tahoe to South Lake. “Not yet,” I would think. Then,

Cracklin’ Rosie get on board, We’re gonna ride till there ain’t no more to go.

At mile 4 of Spooner there is a water stop. I was riding on Wendy’s wheel for a good mile already, my tired body unable to talk much, or even track my Brooklyn teammates any longer, who were now scattered within a mile or so of each other on the hill. As Wendy and I approached the stop, she blurted, “I’m so tired. I need to stop. Do you want to?” I lifted my head off of her tire and said, “No way. I can’t stop.” “I can’t either.” Go team!

Hitchin’ on a twilight train, Ain’t nothing here that I care to take along. Maybe a song, to sing when I want, Don’t need to say please to no man for a happy tune.

Four miles later we reached the cool air of the summit. We gave a cheer to Kurt and Sal as we sped past the rest stop, and we burned rubber 6 miles downhill at a top speed of nearly 40 mph. It was the most rewarding feeling I have ever had. You cannot imagine the glee one feels when riding through clean air with the lake at your right, going downhill at this speed, with this feeling of accomplishment penetrating your tired body. I felt like a child screaming to Wendy behind me as we rolled through the turns.

Oh, I love my Rosie child. You got the way to make me happy. You, and me, We go in style. Cracklin’ Rosie you’re a store bought woman. You make me feel like a guitar hummin’ So hang on to me girl, Our song keeps runnin’ on.

The little rolling hills at the bottom of Spooner coming to the finish were really challenging, but the thought of seeing finishing in less than 4 miles [as Wendy yelled out!] got the adrenaline going. I rolled fast, passed other riders up the first two [of four] hills in those last miles because I thought that they were it, cheering to by-standers. Well, the third came, and then the fourth and I was totally running out of gas. In my head I chanted, “Wendy, Kevin, Mom, Lauren, George” over and over and over again for nearly 2 miles until I saw the mid-century modern high rise hotels of South Lake Tahoe in the distance. These were the people that I pray for continually, and they surely had the courage that I needed on the final hills.

Wendy pulled us across the line to hundreds of cheering riders and support. Most were with TNT, some were independent. Our NYC teammates who had finished were there with their medals and hugs. It was surreal.

From the depths of my heart I want to thank you for your support this season. Emotionally and physically this was challenging. The experience has challenged me to embrace the emotions surrounding my mother’s passing that I have been suppressing for some time now. I have made wonderful friends, and I have started something that I hope to continue – cycling for me, and for cancer. I was so proud of us; so proud of Wendy. I surely couldn’t have done this without her. In fact, I wouldn’t have done this without her support, and especially without her homemade powerbars and dried mango slices. Thus far, Wendy and I have raised over $14,700. NYC TNT raised $750,000. In all, $7.5 million + was donated to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society for this event. We are all confident that this money will someday affect our lives directly when ground-breaking treatments are found. This will not be my last Tahoe ride, and I’m hoping that next year some of you will join me either on the saddle or at the finish line. Wendy and I would love to have more teammates on the Landscapers!

Cheers!

Hey, for more images of the ride and team check out the albums:

Wendy

Marty