Day 3
Coasting before the final hills
Julia's first call of the day sends us to the beginning of a rail trail in Albany; a backwards sign has sent a few riders under the highway bridge and left them in utter confusion. We hurriedly re-do the arrow so it faces the correct direction, add an orange "Wrong Way Turn Around" sign on the opposite street for good measure, and press forward to Saratoga Springs, the last town of the ride. What's unique about Saratoga Springs is that it's the only town on the route that won't allow temporary signage on the telephone poles. We're limited to chalk arrows in the roads, and though the route marker has already been through, the chalk seems to wear away quickly as the cars pass over it. We need to make sure it's still visible.
Julia, sign in hand, and me, squinting at the camera at 6 am
On our way, we pass for me what is The Story that is representative of the spirit of this ride. I can't tell it in person without getting choked up and becoming, as Chris calls me, "a leaky dame." We pass a tandem bike with a woman riding in front, sweating buckets as she pushes up one of the steepest hills of the ride, and a young boy (10? 12?), pushing equally hard behind her. I yell softly out the car window, "You're almost there! Keep going!" and she lifts up her head and smiles at us. So does the boy. I am told later that day that at one point she thought she wouldn't make it, and said to him, "I need you to give me everything you've got!" He pedaled that little bit harder, and finally, they were up the hill, and even finished the ride with the early group of riders.
Best Friends, riding the victory lap
Here is their story, as I understand it: this boy, and another one at camp his age, are the best of friends. This boy has had Crohn's disease since he was very young, and struggles with being well and keeping up with the other kids his age. His best friend's mom, who is the front rider of the tandem, is a triathlete. She heard about the GYGIG ride and talked to the boy and his mom about it, and offered to ride with him [The boys take turns riding in back, and switch off at lunch time]. "I thought she was out of her mind!," the boy's mom told me at the lunch stop earlier that day where she was crewing, smiling happily at the memory. But the friend's mom persisted, and the boys trained about 500 miles together, between their own bikes, the stationary trainer, and the tandem bike. Their school got behind them and helped with donations and an awareness program, and students were sent orange rubber bracelets from the ride director. Seeing this woman furiously pedal someone else's child up a hill, to give him hope and encouragement, is the absolute most awesome selfless thing I have ever seen. There are just no words.
The Mighty Seven (J and Chris missed the jersey memo)
Julia and I arrive at Skidmore College for the closing ceremonies. Riders trickle in, the clapping and yelling louder as each one comes down the path. We are all in "holding," an area set aside for riders and crew to visit with each other one last time before we join the real world, and families on the other side of the building. When E, the very last rider comes through, applause is thunderous.
Our friends F and C, collapsing in the holding area
We are all given white "I Got Guts" victory T-shirts. Riders line up with their bikes for the final procession. Crew gather on both sides of the path, and, with the two boys on the tandem leading, the riders come around the building to waiting families and friends. At the tail end are our injured, but just as victorious, riders, walking their bikes. Speeches are given by leaders of some of the beneficiary organizations, who use the funds raised by the riders to reach out to other patients that need help. Each of these leaders shares their own battle with Crohn's Disease or Colitis, and their future plans for their organizations. One displays the most recent IBD Quilt -- patients and loved ones make squares, and the quilts travel the world and are displayed to raise awareness of the diseases. She encourages the riders and their families to make their own squares for the quilt.
Lining up for...
...the victory lap
Judy Pacitti, Ride Director and Leader Extraordinaire
One of the IBD Quilts
Finally, the speeches are over, the barbecue begins...and so does the rainstorm. After a dry weekend (other than an overnight shower at the first camp), everyone scrambles to give hasty hugs and exchange emails and phone numbers, then rushes their bikes to their cars or traveling cases before they get soaked. It is my last drive of the day, this time to personally escort my own tired yet exuberant rider home. Even though my dinner was McDonald's, I can't think of a better way to have spent our anniversary.
Twelve years to the day, and I couldn't be more proud of him! :)
Chris, Charlie [so many riders who saw our SpokesCat badges were amazed to discover pets have IBD too!] and I want to say a big Thank You once again to everyone who supported us with a word of encouragement and/or a donation for this ride. We would not have been able to participate without your help. I hope from the stories I've shared with you that you have a new awareness of people with IBD, the obstacles they are overcoming, and the difference you have helped to make on the road to a cure. We are most grateful for each of you.
