Diabetes Tour de Cure Yearly Century Bike Ride turned to longer 100K ride
May 5th, 2010 categories: Community Events
After I had completed my first century ride, or 100 miles last year, I wanted to do another century ride this year as part of Diabetes Tour de Cure. This year was my fourth year participating in Tour de Cure, as a special homage to my beloved father who had Type 1 Diabetes and passed away at the young age of 53. As opposed to last year when I took a little more time to train for the ride, this year I skipped on it, and only went on a few occasional short rides, which showed during my ride uphill the merciless and steep Auburn hills.
On May 1, I left the house at 5:30 a.m. and drove towards HP in Roseville, where our tour started. Unlike last year, when I listened to an inspirational fishing radio program (my dad used to be a great fisherman -fishing was as enjoyable to him as biking and tennis are to me) and took it as a good omen, this year there was nothing good on the radio worth listening to. I also didn’t feel like turning on my I-pod, as I knew I had all the time during the ride to listen to my audio books that I receive by mail just like Netflix from Julie, a dear friend, who donated the most money to my bike ride for the last two years. She is the most avid reader I’ve ever met and runs an audio bookstore in San Jose called All Ears Audiobooks, which I highly recommend to everybody.
Consequently, I focused my attention on the dark folds and layers that the clouds formed in the morning sky, which reminded me of my father’s death. To me, death resembled the frowning sky opening up expansively in front of me like a menace and a reminder that we’re short travelers and explorers across the face of the earth, which should compel us to dispel the darkness by whitewashing the black clouds that hang around our beings and burden our souls with their inexorable weight and inexplicable heaviness. In my attempt to still my mind and channel my thoughts to Heaven, from where my father smiles to me often, I realized that through my athleticism I wanted to stop my family’s Diabetes wheel that took the lives of my father, grandfather and an aunt. I was determined with all my might to give my two adorable children, Alex, soon to be 5, and my 3-year-old Sophia the best of me at all times, as they continue to be my endless source of life, inspiration and infinite love.
I arrived at the HP gate A entrance close to 6 a.m., so I only had enough time to register and go to the bathroom. Before the ride we received a few short safety tips, such as reduce our speed around corners, listen to our body, and so on, after which we started our pedal race against diabetes, determined to bike the 100 brutal miles ahead of us with a 6,000 ft elevation terrain. Before the ride one of the few women doing the century ride, asked me what I carried in my little bag attached to my bike rack behind my seat.
“Oh, I just have biking supplies and food,” I replied.
“Well, it seems that you’re ready to go camping,” she retorted with a forced and ironic smile on her face.
I just smiled back graciously, and let her take the lead, even though she was at least 10 years older than me, but faster.
Not long after leaving the HP grounds, I saw her on the side of the road surrounded by three of her friends who were fixing her flat tire. I guess the irony had returned to her this time. Although we’re not supposed to enjoy another person’s ill-fortune, I couldn’t help being human, and thus took a few seconds to revel in her mishap, after which I immediately felt ashamed to indulge in such childish “Gotcha” feelings. I continued my ride humbled by the ominous potential flat tire lurking out there, knowing that I couldn’t change a flat tire. Because of my unskilfullness with fixing a flat, I got armed with a fast air tube repair kit that promised to inflate and repair up to a one-millimeter puncture in the tire, so I felt some relief right there.
My start was sluggish, as most of the 100-mile riders zoomed by me. Soon I was riding together with the bikers who were doing the 100k ride, or 62 miles. I also got lost before reaching the first rest area, as I didn’t see the signs to make a right, and kept on going, while admiring the open fields flanking the road, the grazing cows that were our faithful spectators while watching us with starring, bulging eyes. As docile as the cows were, the dogs that ran around the farms that expanded in size all the way to Sacramento from what it seemed to me, were barking at my slow pedaling and tried to scare me into power pedaling passed my average 15-mile per hour speed. My lack of enough biking training before the event, however, had precluded me from going faster, so I had to be content with what I had.
Realizing that I got lost, I stopped and called the phone number on our maps, but the guy who answered didn’t quite know where I was, so I told him that I could find my way to the rest stop, as I figured where I missed the turn. It felt good to tell this to myself, but in reality I felt dispointed to go an extra 6 miles and get lost. Yet, all I could do was to look up at the sky, knowing that my dad would not let me get lost without finding my way back. Sure enough two Canada geese darted across the sky, sliding like handgliders in front of me. I immediately followed their lead and forgave myself for being goofy and getting lost. In just a few minutes I found the turn that I had missed earlier. While snacking on fresh oranges, bananas and power bars, I had overheard other bikers complain that they got lost and missed this turn, so I smiled again accepting that I was human and flawed.
From here to Auburn I had a steady climb of hills that resembled untamed horses fluttering their manes in the wind, while I was huffing and puffing on my bike. I had to constantly play with the gears to be able to make the ascent and conquer the bad hills, as my children and I liked to call them, although from another person’st perspective, they were great cardio workouts, so they were the good hills. I knew I was pressed by time, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to stop at an Alpaca farm and have my picture taken by some people who were there to watch the riders.
The Alpaca’s absurd haircuts reminded me of Eugene Ionesco’s play The Rhinoceros that dealt with the absurd condition of alienation in our modern society. 
As I advanced towards the heart of hilly Auburn, I felt that my pace was a little slow and that I might not quite make the 100-miles, which is why I stopped one more time to admire the clear, smooth surface of the lake and the grazing horses that seemed to guard the gates of heaven that day. I looked up to the sky. I talked to God. I talked to my dad and told him I loved him and that I think of him every day. I wanted him to know that I missed him very much. Following my short rumination on life and death, I started to pedal a little faster and steadier up the hills to make it to the fire station in Auburn from where I had to decide whether I wanted to go uphill or go back down and only do 100k, instead of the 100 miles.
On my way to Auburn, I passed a few other riders who had trouble with the hills, but I decided to end the battle of heights, of egos, of untold fears and expectations, and just tame the hills like a trainer who finds a new way to instill respect into a ferocious lion. I made it to the Fire Station at noon, which was a little late, since a lot of the 100-mile riders had already done the ascending loop through Colfax and now were ready to go back down. Anyway, I wasn’t too hungry, so I checked my phone, and listened to the encouraging voice mails from good friends for just a few minutes, after which I called my husband Catalin. I told him that I was a little slow and didn’t know whether to do the 100-mile or just be satisfied wtih the 100k ride. He, of course, suggested that I ended and went downhill back to Roseville, which I wasn’t quite sure. However, after talking to my sweet children and hearing the happy laughters when I told them that I would eat them all up when I returned, I felt enveloped by maternal bliss that transcended any ambition, ego, and risk that I needed to take, so I thought that I could just turn back and not worry about the 100 miles.
Nonetheless, after lunch, I changed my mind again and decided to attempt the 100-mile ride, while climbing the worst hill of the route. I made it fine halfway, but after that I tried to take the clip-on shoe off the pedal, and I fell down scraping my left elbow and knee. Again this was a sign that this year I didn’t need to push it and do the 100 miles, so I came down the hill and headed back to HP. The road back took longer than I thought, mainly because a lot of the signs were removed, and I ended up going back to take the ride again. It felt like deja vu when I saw a crew of Mexican workers planting the sod in front of the house, which I remembered seeing in the morning, so I told myself: “Oh, no. You’re not going back to do the same ride.” I called the help line again, but they weren’t able to really give me directions, so I was lucky to come across a woman who had completed the 100-mile, and was just resting on the side of the road. She was just walking off her cramp.
I managed to get back around 3:30 p.m. Mark, the director of the Tour de Cure, was nice to come to my rescue, so to speak. He bandaged my elbow wound, calling it “a good one.” Well, I really felt it was just a scratch, but then I had to go along and accept my “badge of honor,” as Mark called it. I ate a big and tasty Chipotle chicken burrito and made a few new friends who shared their getting lost adventure stories, making me part of the “Lost bikers club,” so to speak.
At the end of the day, the joy of giving hope to millions of people who live with diabetes is all we need to keep on going, even when we feel lost. It’s LOVE that clips-on onto our beings and helps us ride into the blue sky. It’s love that works its magic to dissipate the dark clouds and morph them into non-being, while making room for white, fluffy clouds of hope and faith.
For more information on Sacramento real estate, please contact Carmen at 916-342-2446, or e-mail at carmen@carmenmicsa.com. Also to receive free listings, go to www.Dynamicsacramentohomes.com. And last, but not least be sure to ask for your 7-night cruise when buying with Carmen and her team of experienced agents, as well as a $500 credit to your closing costs if you mention this blog article.
So cool. I am really envious of you doing all that. The part about the Gueese was amazing. Loved the picture of the alpacas.
what an experience.
Carmen,
You are a great inspiration to me – moving forward in the direction of your dreams….looking up to Heaven for signs of love and care…being connected to Life!
What a feast you’ve given us!
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