This past September I rode my first charity ride, JDRF's Ride To Cure Type 1 Diabetes in beautiful Lake Tahoe. After the ride I was asked to write a post about my experience, and I thought it would be great to share it here as well. If you haven't thought about riding for a charity or cause, I highly recommend looking into it and seeing if there is a ride near and dear to your heart, or simply one that inspires you.
I first learned about JDRF and Type 1 Diabetes when I started working on ABC’s show “Wipeout” in 2010. Honestly, I didn’t know much at all about diabetes and I didn’t know anyone who was T1D. That changed when I met my new boss, Executive Producer, Kevin Wehrenberg. Kevin’s son Charlie has T1D. His dedication to his son and JDRF has inspired me to be passionate and proactive for a good reason.
In early 2012 I started to feel as though I was neglecting my personal wellbeing and so I took the initiative to reignite an old passion for mountain biking. I knew I couldn’t just ride my bike. I needed a goal to motivate me. I searched online for a biking event and sorted through page after page until I found a link to “JDRF’s Ride To Cure” TID in Lake Tahoe. That’s it! That was was the event I was going to train for. So what if I have never rode a road bike, let alone own one. How different could it be? I was drawn to the ride from the moment I saw it, and I knew come September I would be joining many others as they peddle around the lake. I signed up for the ride and went to the bike shop that night and bought a road bike.
Training proved to be harder than expected. I jumped on my bike, expecting to be incredible, strong, and fast. I had all the tools (fast bike, fancy bike shoes and lycra, lots of lycra), how hard could it be? It turned out I would have to earn those skills, and eventually (more like hundreds of miles later) everything would come together. And it did.
4 months, 700 miles and 55 hours later, ride weekend had arrived. The night before the event, all JDRF riders gathered in the ballroom at the hotel to discuss the following day’s schedule of events. It was here that I realized the magnitude of what I came here to accomplish. I knew I was here to raise some money and ride my bike, I never thought about what I would be taking away from the experience. There were 2 people that came into my life that night that changed me forever. Ironically, they don’t even know that they did. The first, a young college student who had a pancreatic transplant to rid her of T1D. The transplant was a success, and she was no longer T1D. However, she suffered a major setback. The transplant caused her to go legally blind. But she wasn’t there as support to a rider. She was there to ride a tandem bike behind her father. The second person was an older woman named Rose, a woman with T1D who had been diagnosed with a tumor earlier in the year (after posting this article to JDRF's website I was sad to learn that Rose's illness took her from us. She will continue to be an inspiration for years to come). Rose had signed up to ride and was determined to participate, but the effects of the tumor paralyzed one side of her body. Knowing how important this ride was to her, a dear friend of hers made it a personal mission to find a solution. And she did, locating a trailer-type bike that could be hitched to the back of her own. It even had hand pedals so her friend could participate too.
It was these incredible strong women that helped me truly realize how important JDRF is to someone with T1D. I’m not just riding my bike and raising money for research, I am helping to change lives and give everyone with T1D the opportunity to have the best quality of life, getting one step closer to a cure. I could have sat back and done nothing, that’s easy. To be honest I don’t know why I waited so long to get involved, but at least I was here now. The surprising part for me was that the more I reached out, the more connections to T1D I discovered I had. My journey on this ride grew and continued to take on more meaning.
With emotions running high, I woke up early the morning of ride day excited and yet anxious. I couldn’t eat my breakfast. I didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t know if I was prepared. I am stubborn and I am not a quitter and I knew I had to give it my all to make sure I crossed that finish line. Ten miles into the ride we started our first climb. I was feeling pretty good going into it, my rhythm was smooth and it was as if I was dancing on my pedals. Then it hit me. With one deep breath, everything changed. I wasn’t used to riding at such a high altitude and quickly learned that the deep breaths I relied on in training to control my heart rate and breathing were out of reach. I was taking in what felt like half the amount of oxygen than normal. I need my deep breaths! Three miles into the climb we hit our first rest stop in Emerald Bay. I pulled in and threw my bike down. I paced back and forth. I felt defeated and I couldn’t find my focus. I didn’t even want to look at my bike. Why are you failing me? Every worry I had going into this event came rushing through my mind and words were swirling around my head, crashing into one another with no clear direction. How was I going to finish the ride if I couldn’t gain control of myself? I played with these thoughts and then it all came to front. Focus. Why are you here? What are you trying to accomplish? Who am I doing this for? Charlie (and everyone who lives with T1D). Charlie made me a poster and the JDRF staff affixed it to my hotel room door upon my arrival. It said, “Thank you for all your hard work… be strong.” That’s all I have to do. Be strong.
I didn’t want to let Charlie down. Those with T1D have to manage and live with it every day. Some days are great, some not so much, but they persevere. I am blessed with good health and I live a healthy lifestyle. I can do this. So I kept peddling, and kept repeating to myself over and over, “This is just one tough day. At the finish line I get to move on. Charlie doesn’t. He wakes up every day as a T1D. This is just one tough day.”
Around the 35-mile mark a JDRF Ride Coach from the Greater Michigan Chapter rode up next to me to check in. I told him about my struggles and he assured me I would be okay. It was, simply put, a struggle with my mind. He rode 7 miles with me until the lunch stop. He kept me distracted and before I knew it, I was more than halfway to the finish line. I was grateful for his distraction and realized after the ride I didn’t catch his name. I tried to find him the next day, which proved to be a tough feat because everyone looks completely different when they aren’t decked out in lycra and full riding gear. So if you read this, thank you for helping me keep my faith in myself strong.
Lunch came as a much-needed break for me. I refueled and redirected my focus on the real reasons why I was riding. The remaining 30 miles were amazing and emotional. I took in the picturesque views that Lake Tahoe has to offer, admiring her beauty in all her glory. I tackled the last major climb without fear and embraced the descent back into South Lake Tahoe head on. My legs felt powerful, but more importantly, my mind was clear and my confidence was strong. Nothing was going to stop me. With the last two miles in sight, emotion began to build and I even got a little teary-eyed. If you asked me a year ago if I would raise a few thousand dollars to ride a bike 72-miles for charity, I would have told you that you were crazy. Yet here I was, about to finish, not only for Charlie but for myself as well. I stood up in my saddle and sprinted as hard as I could. Crossing that finish line was a dream becoming reality. I never thought I would be strong enough, or dedicated enough to follow through, both physically and emotionally. It is amazing what you can accomplish when you set your heart to it, when it matters most.
