It takes a village to go to the moon. This is our village. (And we’re going to the moon.)
Sometimes, it takes a village. In our case, our village stretches across state lines and runs from New York City to Los Angeles, and down to Florida. Our village is mighty. We are small in number yet broad in reach, and our village has embraced a communal fight to overcome the most vile of demons.
Our village is determined to end cancer. And though we are just a small village, we will do everything within our power to contribute to this battle. Cancer moonshot? Yea, we’re there, Vice President Biden, right along with you.
When I pedal my bike, I think of cancer. Every. Single. Turn. Of. The. Wheel. I think of cancer. Sometimes I pedal in cadence with the names of my lost family and friends sing-songing through my mind, agreeably morbid to an extent yet more therapeutic if I am being honest. I pedal to celebrate their lives. I pedal in their memory. I pedal because it’s my responsibility to pedal, because I’m able.
I pedal because it’s what I can do to help end cancer. Because of Pelotonia, my pedaling fights cancer.
This morning, we went out for a 35-mile spin. I’ve been avoiding this particular route for the past two months because of a particularly long and arduous climb. It’s called “The Wall.” There are different “walls” on different routes around Athens, Georgia. This one is the worst we’ve discovered.
When I face a wall and my fear of a big climb, I think of cancer. When my legs scream, I pedal harder. Sometimes I let the anger and frustration and sadness and tears build in my chest so that the burn moves there and I no longer care about my legs. And then I pedal some more. I pedal harder. I pedal to the point that I dream, imagine, hope, that I’m crushing cancer against the blacktop.
When I lament the heat and humidity, when I complain to myself about the miles we’ve chosen to pedal, I feel selfish and embarrassed. And it fuels me.
Knowing that I can fuels me.
I can, because I am here.
I can pedal. I am here.
And there is a village behind me. And it is our collective mission to end cancer.
To provide hope and to end the suffering and the loss and the lives cut short and taken from us too early. To return the genius and the hope and the kindness and the love and the caring.
Without the village behind us on our 180 mile ride as participants in Pelotonia, I don’t know that I could make it. Our village has no cancer-drug scientists or clinicians, but we do have greenskeepers, saleswomen, coffee roasters (in two states!), builders, restauranteurs, editors, doctors, chemists, pharmacists, wealth managers, small business owners, bankers, teachers, nurses, executives, students, professors, administrators, and many happy retirees. And this village goes all out to support our Pelotonia fundraising commitments. To end cancer.
This is what drives me:
At the end of July, my brother and sister-in-law (pictured above) will host a giant fundraiser in Hubbard, Ohio, to support us, selling rotisserie chicken dinners on their homemade rotisserie. Somewhere around 75 of those delicious chickens will become the best dinner in town. And though the food is fantastic (truly), my niece and nephew’s lemonade stand takes the cake!
The four of them have been planning this event for months after last year’s event was so successful. They might not pedal one foot during Pelotonia, but they’ll be with us every single inch. And they’ve answered the call to join the moonshot.
It’s how they fight cancer. They’re in our village.
This week, we had a bake sale on the University of Georgia campus, deliciously stocked with homemade goodies by Charlie Carabello, Erin Ciarimboli, and Rachel Burns. And there are more forthcoming. Last month Erin and I had a moving/garage sale that raised $400. That’s $400 directly to cancer research delivered to Pelotonia. $400 from material objects that cluttered our lives, junk and excess turned into hope. I dig that.
HiLo Lounge, my favorite place in Athens, Georgia, is hosting a second percentage night for us on July 21. If you’re anywhere near, please come by. They are fighting alongside us.
The Pine, in Athens’ Five Points, is hosting a wine tasting on August 1. They’re opening up on a day they’re typically closed, because they want this to end. I hope you can join us. Stay tuned for more details as the evening’s plans develop.
Taco Tuesday is coming up, featuring our homemade roast pork, smoked chicken, and barbacoa tacos made to order.
We’re selling custom Pace Sportswear CoolMax cycling caps (see the story in the MidnightTrainFromGeorgia Medium publication), the net proceeds of which will all go to Pelotonia, and which wouldn’t have been possible without the assistance of the amazing team at Pace.
Heck, Greg Simpson of Country Financial in Watkinsville, Georgia, has arranged a “Quote for a Cause” for us. All you have to do is call him for a quote, tell him you’re supporting Pelotonia, and they’ll donate $16 to our peloton.
My point of this? Our village will do whatever it takes to end cancer.
Every. Effort. Counts.
Every. Pedal. Counts.
Every. Dollar. Counts.
We might not be able to fly that rocket-ship, but we’re fueling our country’s cancer moonshot via Pelotonia and the Ohio State University Comprehensive Cancer Center . We reach across borders and boundaries because we must be bigger than ourselves to win this battle. And we will win. We are faster together, stronger together, powerful and limitless and boundless…together.
When I pedal, when we ride, when I’m on my bike…I feel free. I feel free because I’m actively fighting my enemy. Though I know we’re not yet free from cancer, we’re fighting. It’s what I can do. I can ride, and you can support the ride.
We need to answer the call, together. Let’s break down silos. Let’s talk to one another. Let’s forgive or at least forget our differences…because cancer does not discriminate, does not care. Cancer will choose any and all villages to raid. In our current reality, in a society torn by allegiances to political parties, or to religions, or between states or North versus South or SEC versus Big Ten…the only certainty is that cancer doesn’t care who you are.
Let’s agree on one thing. We need to end cancer. And it can only happen, together.
When I ride, I’m not looking to set a record. I’m just looking to end cancer.
Join me.
Join us. Join our village. Together, we’ll go to the moon.
Here’s your chance to join our moonshot. One goal. End cancer. Pelotonia.
