Two weekends ago was the Pan-Mass Challenge - a fundraiser for Dana Farber's Jimmy Fund. This was my 9th year riding it and my first year riding it without S due to her knee injury from Mt. Snow. I'm not the chattiest person on the bike (or running for that matter). I tend to just keep the pace, listen to the conversation around me, and contribute the usual, "Yeah" , "Uh-huh" or "On your left!" Without S there, PFFC, Gary, and I chatted a bit but there was a lot of time to simply "tap out the tempo" (as Phil Ligget would say), listen to the tires hum and think.
I thought a lot about why I do this ride. A lot of people don't do it because the minimum amount to raise is somewhat daunting. But I don't mind hitting people up for the cash since almost 100% of the money raised goes directly to Dana Farber. No other charity comes close to that. And that money directly translates into advances in cancer treatment and who knows, perhaps a cure. And that, in turn, made me think about the people I miss, those who'd still be making me laugh and smile if cancer hadn't swept them away.
My Aunt Fran passed away a few years go from lung cancer. She wasn't a smoker but apparently that didn't matter to the lung cells gone bad. She was my dad's younger sister, with a great sense of humor and a totally contagious laugh. A perpetual optimist, she always saw the best in everyone and I think that perhaps that's where I get my tendency to always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I visited her in Arizona a few months before she died. She told me then that her memory was failing but certain things she remembered and true to form, many of her last held memories were of events that made her laugh. We reminisced about the time she, my parents, my sister and cousin stayed at the Battle Green Inn. She told me how furious my mom was that her daughter subjected her to spending a night in such a place, how my sister slept all night with her clothes on, etc., etc. A family story that has gone down in infamy (but really, it's all my friend Amy's fault!) and I will never live down. We sat on the couch that afternoon, sharing stories that she remembered and me reminding her of a few she forgot. We capped off the evening with smokin' hot Mexican food at a local restaurant and some margaritas. Made us even sillier. Those were the last hours I got to spend with her and I was still smiling all the way back to Boston.
My little cousin Stevie died when I was about 4. I don't remember him all that well - there was always an air of mystery around him, probably because he was sick and we were told to be nice to him. Oddly enough, my cousins and I, usually rough and rambunctious, always turned it down a notch so Stevie could keep up. 40 years later, there's a cure for what killed Stevie. I wonder how my life, my aunt, uncle and cousins' lives would be different if Stevie were still around.
Then there's Brian, S's "second" dad. Handsome, quick witted, super dry sense of humor. I spent an afternoon touring vineyards in Sonoma, Napa, etc in a limo with him, Carol and S. We had to convince people he wasn't a celebrity, then we gave up, accepted the fact that he really must "be someone" and enjoyed the perks that his celebrity status was conferring on us. We finished off the day with an awesome dinner in Healdsburg, with yet more wine. We talked about cancer - I had just finished my treatment and he seemed to be doing well. I just knew he'd be like me. It would be a little inconvenience and then he'd be back out tearing up the golf courses just like I was planning on tearing up the 'cross courses. I still can't believe it didn't turn out that way. A year and a half after that wonderful day, he was gone.
The miles on the bike flew by thinking of all this and a few other stories. I didn't notice the heat, the headwind, and actually didn't even notice the route markers and got lost for a bit. ;-) Thousands of riders, each with their own stories and reasons, raising over $25 million. 25,000,000 more chances that perhaps will someday keep someone else in my life a bit longer to make me laugh. After all, it's all about me. I'm selfish. ;-)
