Monday, May 06, 2013

Tour de Cure for The American Diabetes Association

The Tour de Cure in Gold Country Saturday was grueling. I am still recuperating. But as the hills seemed unending and the sun grew hotter, I kept thinking about my dad and I'd say, "I'd riding for you Daddy," and from somewhere I'd get another burst of energy to keep going. . . not the 62 miles I'd planned to ride or even the 31, but 17 miles for a Cure for this dreadful disease.

A friend commented later on that Daddy was the wind (smile). My colleague, Stefanie, who is fifth generation diabetic was also with me as was Arvid who just retired, fell and now has just three months to live. (Just found out he died May 2.)

There were children with parents with diabetes, coworkers with a friend. I rode for a minute with the Funk Town Team. Our leader was born with diabetes.

The rest stops were fun, especially the second one where there was a wading pool filled with icy water for bikers to take towels and drip water on their faces and necks. There were bubbles and another pool with plastic fish for us to go fishing literally. This is where the 31 mile riders turned around for the ride back. I think we were the blue team. At times near the end, I had to get off my bike and walk it up the hills. My legs were like, nope, not another inch on two wheels (smile).

The snacks were good here too. Besides the oranges and red licorice candy, which I cannot eat, there were these vegan, gluten free energy bars. I got cashew butter, which were really yummy. There was also no sugar added almond milk.

Riders dealt with heat stroke, discourteous drivers--one hit a biker, and heat heat heat, with smiles. I was so sleepy when the ride was over and they'd run out of lunch, I had to pull off the freeway twice. The last time, I bought a cup of crushed ice and drank and chewed my way through Davis and into Fairfield (smile).

The old trick of sticking one's hand out of the window so the cold air will wake one up, doesn't work when the temperature is in the 90s. When I pulled off the first time I thought I was on International and High Street--the store so like Fiesta, the parking lot a bit too busy to close one's eyes (smile). So I ate my dinner and then drove back to the highway.  

That night my legs were killing me and yesterday, the soreness was gone, as I went for a short ride around town. The memory of all these folks riding for a cure, will never leave me. I put my badge: 135 on my altar next to my picture of Daddy and me when I was three.

For just under $200 I will meet my $500 goal. Please send a pledge to:


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