A Note from Fatty:Dustin Brady works for Shimano. His fiancé, Michelle, had the same kind of cancer Susan had. It progressed about the same way, and they tried similar treatments. Dustin and I started talking as we each tried to find ways to accomplish something (anything) in the fight against cancer, and have become good friends. Thanks in large part to the incentives Dustin and Shimano have provided, Team Fatty has become a real fundraising force in the fight against cancer.
Dustin has asked me if I could publish this letter, and I’m more than happy to.
To the readers of Fat Cyclist:
My name is Dustin Brady (the secret Shimano Guy) and I’ve asked Elden to share this letter with you.
I would like to in as short as possible tell you of my beautiful fiancé who passed away Monday night and share of her amazing spirit, smile and sass that made those around her smile.
I met Michelle through a friend at Interbike in 2005. I wasn’t looking to meet anyone at the time … but I guess that is when you meet someone great … when you least expect it. Her genuine smile captivated me … it wasn’t flirty … it was just who she was. When I learned she lived fairly close to me … I asked if I could take her to dinner and that I would drive up to see her. She replied, “You’re not getting any but sure.” From that point, I knew I liked her … she wasn’t afraid to give anyone crap and she stood on her own.
She turned out to be someone I loved and connected with on so many levels. She was beautiful, she loved to travel, she liked to ride and she followed cycling. As a kid she competitively water skied. She appreciated nice things but was casual just like me … shorts, shirts, sandals … no problem. And I would not remember her properly if I didn’t say she was fiercely independent. She had great style and she cared about others often more than herself … she was sarcastic … and in time I knew she loved me back.
When we traveled, she didn’t care if it was a hostel or a nice hotel. Her smile and energy guided her everywhere and their wasn’t anyone she couldn’t connect with…this energy and outright positivity would carry her through her fight with cancer.
About 2 ½ years ago she first learned of her cancer. As a lot of you know … it is a roller coaster of a ride. Peaks and valleys … it was at this time I first chatted with Elden … our fight was strong, Susan’s and Elden’s fight was strong, and as I read all of your comments to his postings I learned that your fight was strong … and this is why we wanted to help fight with all of you this BS known as cancer.
As Susan fought, so did Michelle … her sass, her smile, and her energy helped me face her battle. Her desire to live each day to the fullest was always there but she kicked it up to 11 and we did just that … Lived each day to the fullest. I gave her everything I could … a trip to Greece, a ring and my commitment to her for the rest of my life.
As we lived and fought, the cancer did slow her down … and while we moved slower … we were still giving it our all.
In her last days she truly lived each day to the fullest … she was pinning it so hard, she was wearing her mother and me out. The last activity she did before going to bed on July 4th was to light and toss a firecracker for the 4th of July. When asked if she wanted to light that fire cracker, her eyes literally opened wide and she nodded clearly and concisely. The point of this story … she had a lust for life and lived each and every day of her life to the fullest.
I will continue to fight with you all and I thank you for all you have done to support Elden in his fight. Elden has the soap box, I can arrange the goods, but without all of you, we have nothing.
Sincerely,
Dustin
PS from Fatty: If you like to write cards of encouragement, it would mean the world to Michelle and Dustin if you send Michelle’s mother a card. It would be great if you can tell her in your own words that she raised a beautiful and spirited woman that lived and honored all of those who share in the fight.
I am not a big fan of waking up. To illustrate my lack of unexcitedness about waking up in general, I would like to provide to you the following list of things about which I am not excited, stack-ranked (with most unexcitedness at the top) to give you some context:
Brocoli
My receding hairline
The letter “C”
Waking Up
Flat stages in the Tour de France
Ordinarily, I should point out, “Flat Stages in the Tour de France” would be much higher (i.e., providing even more unexcitedness) in this list, but so far, the carnage in these stages (haven’t watched today’s stage yet so don’t give it away) has made them much less unexciting than usual.
(Note to self: write a post about how conflicted I feel about the fact that I scan through flat stages of the TdF at 4x speed, but stop and rewind for crashes.)
And in short, I don’t much like waking up.
But this time of year, I gladly set my alarm for 5:00 AM. And while I don’t like — and will probably never like — the moment of waking up, it’s totally worth it.
Because this time of year, early mornings rule.
Getting Away With Something
More than ten years ago, as Dug and I were first discovering night riding, we stood at the top of a climb that overlooked the lights in Utah County. “Look at all those chumps, watching TV. Eating. Sleeping. Whatever-ing,” said Dug. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“It’s like we’ve found a huge chunk of time in the day we never knew existed before,” I replied. “Like we’ve found out that the day actually has 28 hours if you buy the right clock.”
“It’s like we’re getting away with something,” Dug concluded.
We were so freaking deep. But we were also right. And, as it turns out, the same applies to the early morning, as well. If you’re willing to do with a little less sleep, a little less grooming, and can make yourself feel OK about telling your little twin princesses that from now on they’re in charge of their own breakfast, you suddenly have a big chunk of time that nobody else has.
Oh, Cool.
So there’s the “more time factor.” Fine. But around here — and in some places, probably year round — that’s only the tiniest benefit.
What I love the very most about riding in the morning is the temperature. Through the simple act of setting my alarm clock, I am able to take a daily vacation from the heat of the day. There’s something fantastic about feeling cool — maybe even a little bit cold — when you’re outside exercising on a day that’s going to have a high of 101 fahrenheit (or, for those of you who prefer metric measurements, 255.37 kelvin).
In fact, I’d go so far as to say it makes you feel a little bit like a genius. With just a dash of smugly superior.
Plus, when you’re not miserably hot, rides are just better. Here’s The Runner yesterday — we rode up Grove Canyon to the top of Timpooneke, then to the Ridge Trail and down Tibble Fork — about three hours and 4500 feet of climbing into the ride:
I should point out that — judging from the rate of evaporation from my brow — it’s about 9:40 AM and 68 degrees f (293.15 kelvin) outside when this picture was taken. In the middle of the day, it doesn’t matter how beautiful a ride is — you’re just thinking about how brutally hot it is outside, and how soon you can get near an air conditioning vent.
If you start out early, on the other hand, you’re a little more prone to notice that you are, in fact, riding singletrack across a mountain meadow, with aspen trees in the background. On an epic mountain bike ride you started from your house, no less.
Balance
Maybe the most awesome side-benefit of the early morning ride, though, is how it leaves you feeling for the rest of the day. If I get a ride in before the day gets started, I’m calm, friendly, and happy. I can deal with everything and anything.
If, on the other hand, I don’t get a ride in, I’m…um…less calm, friendly, and happy. And while I can still generally deal with everything, my methods of dealing are perhaps less…calm, friendly and happy.
Unless you consider sarcastic remarks calm, friendly, and happy, that is.
Of course, this is an easy post to write this time of the year. It’s light, even at 5:00 AM, and that makes it, apart from the moment of disorientation and resentment upon first awakening, easy to wake up.
Stay tuned for my post in a few months, however, which I am tentitively titling, “5:00 AM Sucks. Bad.”
In some alternate universe, those of us with a fondness for empty calories rule the peloton, because — in this magical alternate universe — those empty calories make us faster. The complicated relationship we have — in this universe — with pastry simply doesn’t exist, because in that (much better) universe, the more donuts you eat, the faster you ride. The better you do in races.
And on July 17, I will spend a day in that universe.
Yep, that’s right. I’m an official promoter of the event. And not just because I’m a beloved sports blog personality. I’m promoting it because I simply cannot imagine a more awesome combination of three things I love. Specifically:
Riding: The Utah Tour de Donut is a three-lap road race around a seven-mile course in American Fork Utah. I like the fact that it’s not a long course. I like the fact that it’s not a steep course. I like the fact that if I get lost on the course I’ll probably still find my way home.
Eating: At the beginning of each of the three laps, you have the opportunity to eat as many donuts as you want (i.e., can stand). Each donut you eat knocks three minutes off your time. The winner each year has finished with a negative amount of time. I expect to do well in this race, but I do not expect to win. The guy to the right — Regan Fackrell (his real name) — is the returning champion, and frankly I don’t think I have a prayer, because Regan actually trains for the event, using techniques champion food-eating contest pros use. Still: I can try, darnit.
Cancer Fighting: In addition to local projects, this year — at my request — the Utah Tour de Donut will be benefitting LiveStrong.
I don’t know if I’ll ride the beach cruiser tandem with The Runner, ride solo, or ride a tandem with alternating twins. I see benefits with all possibilities. In any case, this is going to be a silly, fun, puketastic race that will also do a lot of good. I’m really excited to be part of it.
And I’d like you to be part of it with me.
How You Can Participate, Even If You’re Not a Local
The most awesome way you can be part of the Utah Tour de Donut is to come ride it with me. But taking a quick glance at my reader stats, I see I have quite a few more readers in Australia than I do in Utah, and — sadly — I expect most of you aren’t going to make the trip.
But you can still participate, through the medium of donating to the cause, in exchange for which I will do your bidding. Here’s how it will work:
If you donate $10, I will loudly (as in “shouting at the top of my lungs”) proclaim — before eating a donut — that I am eating it on your behalf. You can do multiples of $10, too. If you want to get really specific about which lap you want me to eat your donut, just say. If I get way more donations for this, I will delegate some of the eating to The Runner, The Swimmer (we’re currently trying to persuade The Swimmer to ride tandem with The Runner) or to one of the twins. But I’ll still do the shouting.
If you donate $50, I will write your name (or short phrase of your choosing), in a Sharpie color of your choosing on a visible place on my body or — if I run out of room on my body — jersey. So in a way, you’ll be riding with me. And I promise to try not to throw up on your name.
$If you donate $100, I will write your name (or short phrase of your choosing) in Sharpie on a place of your choosing. Yes, that can include on the top of my head, on my (awesome) quads, or on my face. I have no shame.
To participate with me this way, go to the Tour de Donut site and click the Donate button down toward the bottom-left of the page. When you get your email receipt, forward it on to me (my email address is “fatty@fatcyclist.com”) with instructions on what to do.
If You ARE a Local, Come Ride With Me
If you do happen to live in the area, head on over to the Tour de Donut Registration Page, where you can get details about the race. Register as a family, solo, or a tandem. Or if you’d like to come join the fun but aren’t in the mood to compete, why don’t you volunteer?
And please, wear your Fat Cyclist jersey (or t-shirt, whatever) if you’ve got one. Trust me, this is one occasion where nobody’s going to question what it means.
The cycling world is all a-flutter with the latest news about Lance Armstrong, announced — as is all important news these days — via Twitter:
As a cycling fan, chances are you have already seen this tweet, or at least heard about it.
What you do not know (until now of course) is why Lance has decided — again — to retire (again).
The truth is, I helped him arrive at that decision.
A Fateful Phone Call
A couple nights ago, Lance called me. He does that a couple times per week. The conversation went like this:
Me: Hello?
Lance: Hey, Fatty. It’s Mellow Johnny.
Me: Hi Lance.
Lance: Hey, I want a nickname too. Call me “Mellow Johnny,” OK?
Me: OK. Did you know it’s 4:18AM here, Mellow Johnny?
Lance: Oh, sorry. I can never remember whether to add or subtract five hours.
Me: Don’t worry about it. You sound kind of down. What’s going on?
Lance: My goiter. Hurts like crazy, Fatty.
Me: You should have the team doctor look at that.
Lance: You think I’m going to let him see this? The whole team would know about it in about ten seconds.
Me: Probably true.
Lance: So I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time I hang up the ol’ helmet.
Me: OK.
Lance: But I mean for real this time. For keeps.
Me: OK.
Lance: But if I did that, I’d lose all the perks of the job. I’d never win another TdF.
Me: So keep racing.
Lance: But I think I’m just worn out.
Me: So stop. You’ve had a good, long career.
Lance: But what if I could have had a really good year next year, but I quit this year?
Me: You sound conflicted.
Lance: You don’t know the half of it.
Me: I’ll tell you what. Make yourself a PRO / CON sheet. Highlight the points that matter the most to you. I think that will help you clear up your mind on the matter.
Lance: OK, I’ll get right on that. Thanks, Fatty.
Me: Good night, Mellow Johnny.
PROs and CONs
Then, this morning, I got a priority overnight package from Europe. Curious, I opened it up, and found the following.
A Note from Fatty: Steve Peterson (ClydeSteve) is the co-captain of Team Fatty Seattle. Should I ever grow up, I hope it’s to be like Steve. Here’s the video they showed of him at the LiveStrong Challenge Appreciation Dinner, where Team Fatty was recognized for both the Team Time Trial and Team Champion awards!
And now, here’s ClydeSteve’s report from the LiveStrong Challenge in Seattle a couple of weeks ago.
Saturday June 19. Rain. Actually, lots of it. There was so much rain that the Seattle Center dictated that the Team Fatty tent, to be located on the LiveStrong Team Lawn, would instead be on a paved back alley! I had great help setting up the Team Fatty get together, thanks to team mates Lesley Jacobs & her husband, Ken Yu, Steve Payne and Jeff Payne (no relation). All of these great teammates donated snacks, including a delicious decorated cake. Thanks also to my two wonderful children, Zach & Joanna, who came up to Seattle to shop and also helped me set up the tent and sat in the rain to guard the cake. What with the rain and all, only about 15 Fattys showed up to say “hi”, so I had an awful lot of cake to myself.
I wonder if that had any bearing on my feeling kind of slow Sunday?
The Appreciation Dinner
Satuday June 19th, in the evening. At the LiveStrong Appreciation dinner, Team Fatty was represented well with 4 full 10-person tables. I sat with an all-star cast of Fatties, including teammates Mike ‘Kamala’ Schechter, Tim Tiscornia and Adam Zivin and our guests.
They had the highlight of the evening early when the event staff played the pre-recorded video award acceptance speech for Team Fatty’s two awards (Team Champion and Team Time Trial).
In this marvelous presentation I made an inexplicable mistake. I dedicated the award to a fictitious person. Now everyone thinks this is hilarious except me. I intended to dedicate the award to Mary E. Moore, mother of teammate Mary C. Moore, also mother-in-law of teammate Russell Rogers. Russell and Mary lost their mother to cancer just last month. Fortunately for me, Russell informed me that Mary had a wonderful sense of humor and would have laughed at the mix up.
Actor Evan Handler started out the live & official events of the evening with an entertaining talk and a different perspective for cancer survivors. The ‘cancer survivor’ tag is one the Lance Armstrong foundation likes to use instead of cancer victim or somesuch, feeling it conveys more of a sense of engagement and fight. Evan prefers to think of himself as cured; someone who has beat the odds and beat cancer. After 25 years, I guess he gets to call it what he wants.
Lance Armstrong’s friend ‘College’ gave a great talk about what LiveStrong does in the very important areas of survivorship and patient advocacy and coordination of benefits. More importantly, my table won the door prize by being intelligent, tuned in and diligent. What was the prize, you ask? A Flip HD 8Gb digital video camera for each of the 10 people at the table. Tim Tiscornia gets the credit for suggesting the correct answer and looking thoughtful, intelligent, and analytical while doing so. The rest of the table gets credit for going along. We rocked! I suggest you get yourself to the Appreciation Dinner at your next LiveStrong Challenge to rake in the goodies.
The Ride
Sunday June 20th. LiveStrong Challenge ride. The day looked fair, and I could not wait to get to the starting line. In fact I was so anxious to get to the starting line that I left my duffle of dry clothes and wallet at my brother’s home. Then I got stopped by a very kind City of Seattle policeman who noticed I had failed to secure my seat belt. He also discovered my failure to carry my driver’s license. Since this made me a bit later than I had planned, I sent Zach & Joanna ahead of me from the 5th & Harrison parking garage for coffee. Leaving my sunglasses on the pickup bumper, I sped out of the garage and grabbed my coffee from Joanna racer style, on the fly. It was exhilarating.
I eventually found a spot toward the back of the 100-mile start section next to teammate Jeremy Everitt and then discovered to my horror that my eye protection had turned into truck keys. Truck keys that my fabulous kids intended to use driving around Seattle. I had the presence of mind to phone the kids and talk them in to key tossing distance so they could go back to the pickup and get the camera and get a picture of me finishing later that day. This would be a momentous occasion, because to date, no one beside Elizabeth Kreutz, the LiveStrong official event photographer has ever snapped a picture of me finishing a major bicycle event. It’s like I am a vampire to everyone else.
The start was fairly uneventful, really. Jeremy and I just followed the crowd on the actual route. It was a lot more exciting last year when we made our own route in the downtown Seattle area. I met up with Tim Tiscornia at the predetermined location just as we exited the I-90 Express Lane onto Mercer Island. We had a fabulous time riding together under gray skies until the gray skies took a big PNW dump on us.
After that it became increasingly apparent just who had fenders and who did not. If you had a grit-filled face, arms and legs, you were following one of the riders who chose to go fender free. I was surprised to find that I could still do 40 mph descents on wet pavement with no eye protection. I am generally a big sissy about needing to cover my eyes.
Tim did not bring a rain jacket, and inexplicably I felt the need to suffer with him by not pulling out my rain jacket until the 70/100-mile course split where he decided to go the short route. I was sorry to split up with Tim (the wimp), but really glad to finally put on my rain jacket.
Miles 36 through 66 were kind of a wet cold blur. I remember finally stopping at the mile 66 rest stop and sitting down thoroughly chilled and powering down about 5 gels/bars/ PB&Js/etc. I just could not get warm.
I met Matt ‘Ibis’ Kreger there and he was feeling a little less than energetic as well. Matt said: “I don’t know if I have 38 miles left in my legs.” I was too tired to do the math, but felt the same way. Fortunately, we only had 34 miles to go. A bit of fast riding on West Sammamish Way and we were warmed back up for the-wall-they-call-Village Park Drive. About 1.2 miles of steep, I passed a number of riders who had to get off and push or stop for a cramp out.
Last year I didn’t even notice any uphill after Village Park on the way down to Renton. This year the flats had hill on them. I’m not complaining, mind you. I was just out of shape. But the new artificial knee never made a complaint. Titanium is funny that way, so stoic and all. But I was really pooped when I got to the Renton rest stop. I was only 15 miles out but had mentally gotten to the point of just slogging.
I ate a Honey Stinger and took off, and an amazing thing happened. Right after teammate Lief Zimmerman passed me doing about 24 mph on his ‘bent, I got an unreal surge of energy. Honey, answered prayers of concerned loved ones, a competitive urge to catch up with Lief? Perhaps all three, but suddenly I was rarin’ to go! It is kind of the way it is with those who have been diagnosed with cancer. Sometimes they are down, going it alone with outrageous endurance, and sometimes things go pretty good, and someone on their team pulls them along. Anyway, I was eventually able to close on Lief, after he stopped at a public park to use the facilities, and was happy to have a hometown Seattle commuter guide me in through the steep streets of Seattle.
As we were nearing the Seattle Center, my phone started ringing. Zach reported that the camera and the pickup keys were locked in the pickup and they could not find a locksmith on Sunday. Yes! My string of no family or friend-taken finish line photos remains intact! Maybe I am a vampire.
Oh, I found out that fame has its advantages. An hour after I got in, Zach & Joanna had still not located a locksmith. I went out to the LiveStrong Village to see if one of the clothing vendors maybe just maybe had a garment on a wire hanger. I was stopped by an event worker, a foreman for the company that does the set up of equipment for all the LAF events. He had seen me on the video awards speech during the Appreciation Dinner! The guy went out of his way to find a coat hanger I could use to break in to my own car. I was amazed and humbled by his willingness to go out of his way to help.
PS: Congratulations to Yann Bertaud, the winner of the Shimano / Sycip custom bike contest! Yann’s raised a lot of money ($2290 so far) in the LiveStrong Challenge, and he’s been doing it for all the right reasons — in support of a friend who’s fighting cancer. Check Yann’s LiveStrong page out here. So I’m really excited that Yann’s the winner of the bike.
Yann hasn’t decided whether he wants a cruiser or a road bike yet — a fun choice to have to make!
To the readers of Fat Cyclist:
About 2 ½ years ago she first learned of her cancer. As a lot of you know … it is a roller coaster of a ride. Peaks and valleys … it was at this time I first chatted with Elden … our fight was strong, Susan’s and Elden’s fight was strong, and as I read all of your comments to his postings I learned that your fight was strong … and this is why we wanted to help fight with all of you this BS known as cancer.
Eating: At the beginning of each of the three laps, you have the opportunity to eat as many donuts as you want (i.e., can stand). Each donut you eat knocks three minutes off your time. The winner each year has finished with a negative amount of time. I expect to do well in this race, but I do not expect to win. The guy to the right — Regan Fackrell (his real name) — is the returning champion, and frankly I don’t think I have a prayer, because Regan actually trains for the event, using techniques champion food-eating contest pros use. Still: I can try, darnit.
I don’t know if I’ll ride the beach cruiser tandem with The Runner, ride solo, or ride a tandem with alternating twins. I see benefits with all possibilities. In any case, this is going to be a silly, fun, puketastic race that will also do a lot of good. I’m really excited to be part of it.
