Guardian angel

(Above: pictures from Sean and Alifia’s Sangeet last weekend in NY! The first day was an Indian celebration, and Sunday was a Jewish wedding and ceremony. We had such a phenomenal time and are so happy for the newlyweds!)

This time last year I was preparing for my final breast cancer surgery: tissue expanders exchanged on both sides for silicone implants.

This time this year I am preparing for a 200-mile bike ride.

If anything, looking back at last September’s Pink and Pearls posts reminds me how much life can change in a year, and just how much we have no idea what will happen, or what things (Tour de Pink) we’ll get ourselves into!

I am really, really blessed to be able to say last year at this time I was going into my sixth and final surgery, and today, nearly one year later, my scans are clean and I’m healthy enough to take on the challenge that is Tour de Pink.

The ride is now, officially, less than a month away. This month is either going to go by incredibly slowly or super fast. As I’ve written before, now it’s down to the wire: five days a week riding, and 40, 50 and 60-mile rides on Saturdays and Sundays. I am feeling more confident now during and after each ride. This week on Monday and Tuesday I rode more than 20 miles each time in under two hours, and on Thursday morning I rode 12 miles. I’ve been getting more confident with the clip-ins, though Thursday morning I fell probably five or six times from either not being able to clip out in time or not making a decision in time if I was stopping or turning. But each time I picked myself up and rode on. For a little while there I was mad at myself: why am I still falling with the clip-ins? Am I making negative progress? Is that even a thing? And then I remembered that whole “stop being so hard on myself” bit and I decided to chalk it up to a bad ride. (Not a terrible ride, but a bad ride.) I told myself not to obsess over the falling and instead focus on the progress. Don’t lose sleep over it. MOVE ON.

My pace is getting better, my balance is getting better and I am FEELING better on the bike, which are all really important things.

On Monday evening during my 23-mile ride, there is a route I do in which part of the road doesn’t have a little shoulder for cyclists. It’s only a tiny part, but it’s very scary to me since it’s downhill. But it’s part of a route that is crucial to me so I need to take that road when I’m doing 20+ mile rides. I always get nervous on that part of the road. But I slow down, take notice of my surroundings, continuously look behind me, let cars pass when they need to, and remain calm. Getting into a tizzy won’t help anyone. Anyway, Monday during that scary stretch of the road I hate, just as I was feeling nervous, this male cyclist passed me on the left. He was all decked out in cycling gear, said “hi” really confidently, and flew by me like it was no big deal. I didn’t even know he was behind me until he passed me. I call people like that “no bigs” people: people who think something is no big deal. To me, as a new cyclist, that road is scary and cycling down it takes an extreme amount of concentration. For him, someone who clearly has been cycling since he came out of the womb, it was no big deal. No bigs. He was confident. He was happy. And he glided past me. As soon as that happened I felt a huge wave of relief pour over me. “Today I am not cycling alone,” I thought. Sure, I wasn’t riding WITH this guy, but he was out there, riding the same road as myself, and he could do it and he was confident, showing me that it’s not so scary after all.

After he passed I kind of smiled and thought to myself: “I can do this after all. Maybe this road is no bigs.”

Kind of like when I used to wait in line for roller coasters or other scary, nausea-inducing rides at amusement parks and would be terrified out of my mind. And then I would see a little kid waiting in line for the same ride, completely calm and happy, and maybe even excited to go on the ride. And then I would think, “if this kid can do it, and he’s like 5, then I can do it.”

Seeing someone else do something that scares me, and seeing them do it with confidence, gives me confidence in return.

It lets you know that you’re not alone. There’s “others” like you. You’re not alone on the scary roller coaster ride. You’re not alone on the road.

That rider Monday night was like a little guardian angel. Just when I got really scared, he was there for a split second, reminding me that cyclists do this all the time, ride these roads. And throughout the rest of my ride, just as I felt lonely on a long stretch of road along farmland, another cyclist would pass on the other side of the road and wave to me. Each a reminder that I am not in this alone. And with Tour de Pink I’ll have 200 of them. Sometimes I just need a reminder that other people can do this, and that I can do this.

Just as it does every year, September will bring so many events and milestones. I know these next few weeks will be tough as I’m really pushing myself with the training. It’s hard to fall and not feel completely discouraged. It’s hard to make myself ride 20 miles in the evening after a full day of work, or wake up at 5 a.m. and ride 10-15 miles in the morning just as the sun is coming up. It’s hard to reserve every single Saturday and Sunday from now until the ride just for riding and making sure I get in 40+ miles each time. It’s hard to be living and breathing cycling. But I remind myself that this is temporary. This final push means the ride is right around the corner. I must stay strong and motivated and get each ride in. And it will be here before I know it.

Trust me, there are days when I really don’t want to ride. There are days when I feel like I haven’t ridden enough, or didn’t do well enough. There are days I’m antsy until I get on the bike, and days where all I want to do is be off the bike. But I know this final push will be worth it to feel confident on Sept. 27, 28 and 29.

Though the training and preparation is important, I can’t lose sight of why and how. I can’t forget that Tour de Pink is supposed to be FUN. It’s about friendships and overcoming. It’s about challenging yourself and setting and meeting goals. For me and for my sisters.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to fully comprehend how I got here. I still can’t grasp the breast cancer. I’m still learning what it is to heal. I’m still finding a way to live life after breast cancer while not living life BECAUSE of breast cancer. I’m still finding myself.

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.” – Albert Einstein.

I think sometimes I overdo the “keep moving” part in order to find that balance. Sometimes I’m afraid of what will happen if I slow down.

What’s scarier than moving too fast? Not moving at all.

If you ride too slowly up a hill you fall over.

If you run too slowly up a hill you tire, and may not reach the top.

What happens if I fall over? What happens if I don’t reach the top?

When I first started this blog, all I wanted more than anything in the whole world was to walk down the aisle on March 31, 2012. It was all I envisioned for a year. I knew, if I could just get down that aisle, then my wedding would happen and everything would be OK and I could move forward in life, steadily, confidently, consistently. It didn’t matter what happened after; I just had to get down that aisle.

And I did walk down the aisle, in the way and on the day I had dreamed about. And we have moved forward in life. And because I’m married to Sean I am prepared to face anything, prepared to take on anything, prepared and ready for every adventure, planned or unplanned, life has to offer. The good and the bad.

What does it mean to live out loud? What does it mean to live fully, and without regrets? For me it means taking on challenges when we are able; doing things that scare us but are worth it; and giving everything in life your all. It’s taking on a task or a challenge and devoting yourself to it. It’s pushing yourself to improve yourself. It’s expanding your skills and horizons. It’s learning about yourself and others. It’s reaching out to other people. It’s nurturing yourself.

It’s immersing yourself in life: things and people and activities that make you happy. It was planning the Hadassah wine tasting this week. Screeching with joy when new rose buds bloom in our flower bed. Snuggling with Campbell on the couch (he lets me put my head on his back). The little feeling of excitement in my heart, that little flutter, when I hear the front door open and I know it’s Sean, when Campbell dives off the couch, his paws pounding the wood floors, running as fast as he absolutely can, to greet him.

It’s welcoming people into our new home. Using the fancy cheese plates and knives. Looking out of the kitchen and living room windows and seeing the sun set so clearly each night, and knowing there’s nothing back there but farmland and a winery.

It’s in having a job where I get to do what I love every day. It’s having a full circle of friends to host parties with and go out to dinner with. It’s having a full calendar of traveling and weddings and visiting new babies and football games and holidays and family gatherings.

It’s having a husband who supports everything I do, from my vegetable juicing to my stock of coconut oil to signing up for a double century bike ride to making plans with friends and then crying and saying “I’m so busy all the time.” He lets me buy the kale. He lets me go to bed early to play Words with Friends. He lets me DVR endless episodes of Roseanne and Keeping up with the Kardashians. He buys my favorite K-cup coffees even though they’re more expensive than the store brand. And when I put Kashi cookies on the shopping list, instead of asking me which kind to buy, he buys one box of each kind. He puts up with me eating raw garlic and soaking our fruit in apple cider vinegar to remove the pesticides. He puts air in my bike tires before a ride, and understands mail I get from doctor’s offices is too overwhelming to read right away so he lets me put it aside and read it when I’m ready.

How lucky and blessed I am to have a husband who not only loves me for exactly who I am (quirks and all) but who embraces all my ridiculous habits and ways. He knew from day 1 we would get through the breast cancer together. He knew from day 1 we’d have the wedding on the day we wanted, and it would be what we wanted. He knew from day 1 I could do Tour de Pink.

He always, always, always knows.

That partnership, that love, that commitment, that loyalty, that strength fuels me. It fuels every nook and cranny in my life.

I live, every single day, in an ocean of warmth and love and support from Sean, and from my friends and family.

How lucky I am to not only live in that ocean, but to swim in it?

How lucky I am to not only be able to get on a bike, but to ride it?