Why do I ride?

I have been asked on several occasions why I ride.  I believe we all ride for different reasons, but for me, I ride to remember, in hope and lastly because I am able to ride.

 

I ride to remember the people in my life who currently have or have passed away from HIV/AIDS, breast cancer and other cancers.  I ride in the hope that someday there is a cure for all these life challenging illnesses. I ride because I am lucky enough to be able to be on a bicycle and ride for those who can't with some of the best people in the world.

 

I have been participating in Ride for the Feast since its inception as a rider, team captain, and a past ride chair; not just because it's an organization that is doing some good in the community and not just because I know that all the money I help raise goes directly to those who need it, but also because the riders are a community unto themselves.  In the 7 years that I have participated in this ride I have met so many great friends (and I expect year 8 to be no different).  Having participated in many charity rides in my lifetime, those that know me know I talk about this ride the most.  One such event would have been a Sunday a few years back when I was riding on the B&A trail with Deb, another team mate, when we ended up talking with 2 people riding the trail about the ride.  Deb casually mentioned they should be careful before they got caught up in the VORTEX known as Bob that sucks people into doing this ride.  Well ok so I guess I am a vortex for The Ride, but one of those people riding was Pez who joined our team.

 

There are also times that life puts so many things on your plate that you just don't know if you can do just one more thing.  A great friend once wrote me and another team mate when there was so much going on, not to push us to do the ride, but to remind of us of how we inspired her when she decided to become a rider and we said we couldn't wait to ride with her.  I think what she wrote says a lot about the people who participate on this ride.

 

     "By being so encouraging and positive, you really embodied the spirit of Moveable Feast's mission, which is meeting people at their point of struggle and helping them get past it to where they want to be. You can't get well because your nutritional needs aren't being met? No problem; we'll bring you meals and get you well. You can't find a job because you're an ex-con in transition? No problem; we'll get you into our culinary program and help you find a job. You want to ride farther than you've ever ridden before? No problem; we'll help you train because we can't wait to ride with you."

       
That very simple and sincere response immediately made me feel like I was part of a community. 

       

Why do I ride?  Because this is the ride that has the most conscientious riders and crew I have ever met.  When you are struggling to get to the next pit stop because you ran out of water, a snack, or just hit a wall and need a push, you can count on someone coming upon you and getting you to the next point.  This is the ride you go on and catch up with old friends while you are riding and don't even realize how quickly you made it to the next pit stop.  This is the ride where you are riding with someone who you haven't seen since the previous year's ride, but you know they have your back if you need anything.  As some past riders and crew will remember, this ride has been done in the pouring rain, temperatures over 100, and in high winds, yet we all pulled together and made it through the ride.  That is the kind of people you know are there for you no matter what.

 

As captain of The Chain Gang I have the privilege of riding with some great people on my team (yes we are accepting new teammates), the motos to protect us on the ride and on other teams, riders and crew to make this a great ride for a great organization. 

 

I hope to ride with you either on a training ride or during the Ride for the Feast.

 

--Bob

Why Will You Ride?

I don’t remember her name, but I’ll never forget her story.

It was about five years ago. I wasn’t yet a Ride for the Feast rider, but I knew about the ride. I’d volunteered for it, but I wasn’t as involved with it as I am now. I was working a fulltime research job that required that I periodically visit various AIDS service providers to interview their clients about the types of health and social services they needed. It was on one of these visits, on a snowy late January morning, that I met her.

She came into the interview room looking fragile—emotionally, not physically. She was timid. I couldn’t tell how old she was; she could have been 25, she could have been 45. Her hands trembled slightly as she took a seat across from me, and she made only the most tentative eye contact. She seemed…almost apologetic. I couldn’t imagine for what since we’d only just met, but then I got it. She was apologizing for being there, in my day; for her existence. I was witnessing shame like I’d never seen before, coupled with a desire to be relieved of it that was so strong I can still feel in the pit of my stomach. As our interview began, she provided long explanations for what were essentially “yes” or “no” questions. She needed to tell her story, needed to know that someone would listen.

She told me about the abusive relationship she escaped, the way she believes she became infected, the shame over her diagnosis that kept her from seeking medical care for more than two years, and the frustrating insurance problems that were threatening her continued care. That’s what brought her to the agency where our interview was taking place—she was meeting with a social worker to try to get some emergency funds to pay for her medications.

I asked her about her home situation, whether she had anyone to help with her care. She told me she lived with her daughter, and that she was great about reminding her to take her meds and making sure she got her meals on time. That’s when Moveable Feast came up.

“We get our meals from that Moveable Feast and they are the one thing that always goes right. They always come every day and the meals are good and they are so easy for my daughter to just heat up in the microwave. That’s what I worry about the most—my daughter, how it will be for her.”

I don’t know why I asked my next question. It wasn’t on my list of survey questions, I didn’t need to know it, and I’m not even sure where my suspicion came from. But I asked anyway.

“How old is your daughter?”

Her face changed in a way that any mother would recognize. The tension disappeared and was replaced by a beaming pride. She smiled a big, wistful smile.

“Oh she’s so grown! I can’t believe how big she is already. She just turned six.”

I wanted to hug her. I wanted to run from the room. I wanted to find the daughter and hug her. I wanted to go home and crawl into bed and under my covers and never come out. Six years old? Damn.

“Six years old—so grown! She takes good care of me. She makes sure I get my breakfast, and then she’ll tell me, ‘Mama, you should try to get up and move a little. You’ll feel good if you do. Come on, come to the door and watch me walk to the bus stop. I’ma go to school and learn a lot for both of us today. Watch me go!’ She’s such a sweet girl…”

Her words trailed off as the pride on her face dissolved into a storm of worry and guilt and hope. But noticeably absent from that look was resignation. She had burrowed up out of shame so deep it let her disease go untreated for two years, she had sought out a social worker to help her negotiate with her insurance company, and she was doing everything she could to make sure she’d keep getting meds. Resignation was not part of her makeup; this woman was a fighter.

As we finished our interview, I silently hoped that her daughter was a fighter, too. I couldn’t even begin to understand the challenges they faced—a single mom and her first grader battling critical illness, poverty, social stigma, uncooperative corporations, and complicated web of social service institutions. 

Gradually, a 140-mile bike ride began to seem like no challenge at all. And that’s when I knew I had to ride.

Gearing up for RFTF 2010!

Well, the holidays are behind us, a new year is upon us, and the temperature has finally climbed up out of the 30s. There's no denying it:  the off-season is officially over and it's time to gear up (pun totally intended) for Ride for the Feast 2010!  Actually, there's been so much good ride-related activity already this year that it's more like catching up than gearing up. Here's what's on the up and up:

Indoor Training Rides
What I said above about temperatures in the 40s? Forget it. Just since I started writing this entry, freezing rain started beating against my skylight. Don't let unpredictable weather hold back your training--take a spin class! Two local health clubs are offering special discounted spin classes for Ride for the Feast riders. Get the details.

Jersey Raffle
For just 3 bucks you can have a chance to win a sweet wool jersey from Dirt Rag Magazine. The jersey is made by Woolistic out of 100% Merino wool. (Yummy!) Soft but durable, this jersey doesn't itch, it wicks moisture, and it stays warm even when wet for riding in damp chilly weather like we're having right now. The jersey is black with a grey Dirt Rag logo and valued at $125. Not bad for a $3 raffle ticket!

Especially when each ticket you buy loads a client meal onto our new Ute, a cargo bike donated to Moveable Feast by Proteus Bikes. We'll be showcasing the Ute at various events and fundraisers, starting with the CX My Heart and Superbowl of Single Speed Cyclocross Race on February 7th. Thanks to Proteus for donating the bike, Dirt Rag for donating the jersey, and Kona Bikes, makers of the Ute, for giving us a shout-out on their website.

Old friends are back, new friends have found us...I'd say 2010 is off to a pretty good start! Want to keep that momentum going? Sign up to ride, register as a crew member, or make a donation. 

That's it for now, friends. But there's so much more to come in the next few months, so check in often. 

XO,
Becky

 

LAST CHANCE BAKE SALE

This is it!  The LAST CHANCE BAKE SALE!  Team With A Purpose will be at Waverly Farmer's Market from 7am-noon on Saturday, May 9.  This also happens to be the day before Mother's Day!  Get Mom a "Decadent Chocolate Cake" (That is actually it's name!), a loaf of "Blackberry Apple Bread" or a variety of cookies, mini cakes, chocolate lollipops or several other baked goods.  And, of course, don't forget to pick up your weekly helping of fresh produce, dairy products and leftist literature!

Get a gift basket for Mom on her special day and tell her you were not only thinking of her but you supported a great cause too!

 

Special dietary options will also be available! These can include gluten free, sugar free and vegan baked goods!

 

"C'mon - you know you want some of this good stuff." - N. Schuster

 

- Pete

Captain, Team With A Purpose - We're Full Of It!

On two wheels or four, this chick is fierce!

Longtime rider and captain of Team Fierce Chicks Rock, Lisa Scotti, doesn't limit her athletic endeavors to two-wheeled sports. Check out this great article in Nurse.com to learn how Lisa has also made a name for herself on four wheels--as a Charm City Roller Girl. Roll on, Flo Shizzle!

--Becky
Chair, Ride for the Feast 2009

First-timer's report

I was thinking recently about the first time I did this ride. I was nervous and excited but having a hard time comprehending the length. A hundred miles! It's just so...looong.

Then I remembered a blog post that my Team Atomic teammate Jules wrote after her first time doing the ride, in 2006, in which she recapped her experiences mile-by-mile. I thought that new riders especially might like to read it. It really captures the physical and emotional ups and downs of spending 7 hours on a bike.

So, with Jules' permission, I've copied her blog post below. (FYI, the babies Jules refers to, Jack and Zoe, are the twins Jules gave birth to just 8 weeks before doing the ride. Also the volunteer she refers to, Lisa, will be riding for the second time this year!) Enjoy!

--Becky
Chair, RFTF 2009

Friday

Arrived in Rehoboth. Am luckiest girl ever, since I have husband and babies by my side. Or more accurately, baby Jack strapped to my body, baby Zoe in front of me in a stroller, and husband Leslie trailing behind me with all my crap. Like I said, luckiest girl ever!

Enjoyed the pre-ride luau, although I must be honest with my friends at Moveable Feast: pasta salad and roast beef are not traditional luau foods. But who am I to be a purist? As long as I have carbs, I'm happy. And when some of those carbs come in the form of Guinness, I'm really happy!

After the luau, Leslie and the babies go across the street to the "Sea Esta" Motel (sea puns = one of man's most exalted humor forms. Don't believe me? I'll sea you in hell!). I stay behind at the Quality Inn, where I am supposed to get my first full night of sleep in two months.

Saturday

Woke up 5:30, slept almost not at all. Oh well. Breakfast = tiny bagels and cheerios. Bike is ready, body is ready, mind is FREAKING OUT. But we take off, and somehow it all becomes okay. Some memories:

Mile 7 - Joey spots sign that says "boathole." We giggle for three miles.

Mile 12 - Discuss my Jan Ullrich obsession with ride marshall Kornell, who coincidentally works with Leslie in our tiny tiny world. 2006 will be Jan's big year! Mark my words...

Mile 20 - First pitstop, where we see Lisa's glowing face peeking out from under a cowboy hat adorned with flames. Lisa = angel of hope, patron saint of tired cyclists, who appears as a vision at pitstops the world over, always wearing a different novelty hat! Of course, I don't fully appreciate her yet, since I'm not tired. In fact, I'm actually worrying that the whole thing is going to be anticlimactic because it's TOO EASY! Hah!!!

Mile 22 - Watch Becky fade into the distance. When did she get so fast? When did she grow those legs?? I remember having to slow down for her back in the early days, and now I can't keep up. I beam with pride as she vanishes into her trail of smoke.

Mile 35 - Ride with Chris, talk about...what else? Bears! Chris doesn't like wildlife ("except dogs and cats"). So I seize the moment to tell him my Yellowstone bear story (which I won't recount here - just assume it ends with me heroically fighting off the bear). He tells me about the Library's new "Sneaks the Cat" mascot suit. It has a fan in the head. I love Chris!

Mile 50 - Arrive in Seaford at the lunch stop, where I meet Leslie and the babies!!! I feed Zoe, snuggle with Jack, kiss Leslie, and almost entirely forget to eat. Oops - I'll be regretting that soon enough. But seeing my family there on the road gives me more strength than all the Powerbars on earth. I ride out in the full knowledge that I am the happiest and luckiest rider in the group. The winds of love fill my sails.

Mile 51 - Yeah, about those winds...the winds of love are no match for the winds of ass-kicking, which are blowing straight into my face at 22mph. I've never even imagined wind like this. It's like riding up a hill...one long, painful, 50 mile hill. Yikes!

Mile 52 - I've decided to "pace myself," a choice which has once again left me in Becky's dust. This time Chris has gone with her. I turn to talk to Joey and he's nowhere to be seen. No wait - that tiny speck a mile back - that's him! I circle back and we ride together. The wind hurts, so we tell stories to try to forget our pain. I talk about the farm my mom grew up on and the manic hippie I met on my way home from Russia. He talks about crazy stuff that happened at the Ottobar last week. This is the good part, and it's the only thing keeping me moving. The bad part is that we are grinding down to a slower and slower pace, and may not reach Chesapeake college until next Tuesday. Two other guys have gotten sagged, and the sweep van is circling us like a vulture.

Mile 70 - We're the last to reach the mini-pitstop, and everyone else has gone on. Same pain, different strategies: Joey decides to rest a bit, I refill water and ride on. I'm like a shark: if I stop swimming, I'll die.

Mile 72 - I'm alone now, on a long straight road through a huge expanse of wheatfield. This is the only scenery I'll see for the next hour. I freakin' HATE wheat. I've picked up my pace quite a bit, but the wind is blowing so hard that if I stop pedaling even long enough to take a drink of water, I grind to a halt.

Mile 75 - I'm still alone, playing little games with my odometer: "If I can just get to mile 76, I'll be all right. Okay, 75.1, that's 10% of the way there...75.12, that's 20% of the way to 75.2...that will be 20% of the way to 76...." You can see that my mind is gradually coming unraveled.

Mile 80 - I haven't seen a living soul since I left Joey at the mini-pitstop. Where the hell is everyone? Where are the cars? Has the world ended? That's it! I'm trapped alone in this post-apocalyptic wheatfield, the last person on earth. Riding my bike through this infernal devil-wind in utter solitude, never to see another living being again. Oh well. If I can just get to mile 81, I'll be okay. 80.1, that's 10% of the way there...

Mile 82 - The last pitstop, and it turns out the world hasn't ended!!! I've NEVER been happier to see other people in my life. Becky and Chris are there with smiles and cheers and Powerbars, and Saint Lisa's halo is positively glowing! And it bears a strange resemblance to a pirate hat. I consume many snacks - who knew Fritos were so good?? Joey arrives - needs a break, will meet us at the last mini-pit. Then we take off into the wind. I beg my team never to leave me again.

Mile 85 - Turns out I didn't need to beg - I hadn't been as far behind everyone else as I'd thought. Everyone was slowed down by the wind, and there is a large group riding more or less together. Ah, I've never felt such love for my fellow man!!

Mile 92 - We reach the last mini-pit, and Joey rejoins us - Team Atomic rides again!! I see pain in Becky's face, and in my delirious state I say inane things to try to cheer her up. She makes quizzical faces and moans. I think she likes me! But soon I run out of fun, and I'm back to the odometer game - the difference now is that I KNOW I'll make it.

Mile 101 - The endpoint is in sight, and all the remaining riders have congregated at the last stoplight so we can ride in, triumphant, together. But where's Joey? He's fallen behind and I was too tired to notice. Everyone outside of the team wants to go ahead and get it over with, but we want Joey! The group is about to give up and take off when he rides like a bat out of hell around the corner. Joey heroic!! Woohoo!!!

Mile 102.6 - We ride into Chesapeake College to deafening cheers. Tears, cheers, pictures, and a bad cellphone connection to Leslie and the babies. I hug Becky - my friend, my confidante, my training partner, the woman who almost stopped being my friend the first time I tricked her into riding a mile uphill, who just now rode 102 miles through the winds of hell. I hug Joey - my inspiration, the veteran rider who made me believe that this entire crazy endeavor was possible in the first place, not just for elite athletes, but for normal people with jobs and lives. And I warn Chris - my new friend and beloved teammate - that I'm going to hug him just like a bear, then I do!

That evening we eat outside, and everything tastes like the best thing ever. We laugh, we talk about Fritos - the best snack food ever. We take the best showers ever. Our team is part of the wild crowd - we hang out with some other riders and supporters, we each drink one beer and stay up until 10:20. As our compatriot Derek put it, "tonight we're gonna party like it's 1959." Then we go to sleep on the floor of the gym - you guessed it - the best gym floor ever.

Sunday

We sleep in until 6:30, eat massive amounts of bacon for breakfast, board buses to get ourselves safely over the Bay Bridge to Sandy Point State Park. I'm in denial about getting back on my bike today. Kornell tells us that the best part of this morning is watching everyone's faces as they put their butts back on their saddles for the first time. Hoodaddy!

Mile 0 - Actually, it's not as bad as I'd feared. We ride out as a group, feeling strong.

Mile 1 - Holy crap, there are HILLS out here!

Mile 3 - I'm riding with Becky, Chris and Joey are a little way back. We're slogging up a hill, and I turn to talk to her. She's way behind me, so I slow down. Suddenly, my quads are on fire and my calves are locking up. I'm feeling way too much burn to do this - if I'm going to get through this, it's gotta be quick. Like a field amputation. So I blow a kiss to Becky, and I'm on my own again.

Mile 14 - I show up at the first pit stop in record time, greeted by smiling Saint Lisa, feeling pretty good. I hang around long enough to make sure that the rest of the team is okay: Joey and Chris are in an looking strong, Becky is taking a break. I'm off - keep swimming, shark...

Mile 29 - Many big scary hills later, I find myself in Carroll park, where I'm greeted by Becky, Lisa, and...the Easter Bunny? It's not a hallucination, it's a plushie! We're more or less done, so we hang out, eat snacks, put on our official ride shirts and Mardi Gras beads. Joey and Chris ride in looking great - the team's all here!! We did it!!!

Mile 31 - The whole group rides back to Moveable Feast HQ together, all wearing our red shirts, all looking great. There is a crowd of maybe 100 people in front of the church cheering for us, but it feels like we're rock stars walking into a stadium full of screaming fans.

I'm now crying too hard to see, trying not to kill anyone as I ride through the crowd to the double stroller I've spotted on the far side. Leslie hands me Zoe, who looks bewildered as I kiss her again and again. I trade her for Jack, who looks suspicious, but nonetheless tolerates being hugged without mercy. Leslie tells me how proud he is of me, and I fall sobbing into his arms. We have so many friends there - Lisa, Karen, Beth, Steve, Roberta, the Abernathys, probaby others I was too delirious to register. I believe I am the happiest person alive.

We have achieved cookie!

Today started out better than I could have imagined--with an email about cookies! For the second year in a row, Otterbein's Bakery will be donating cookies for us to distribute to our riders at pit stops. Yay! Thanks, Otterbein's! Your chocolate chips make a long ride feel just a little bit shorter.

What's your favorite Otterbein cookie?

--Becky
Chair, Ride for the Feast 2009