Tour de Pink: day 1

Day 1 start!

Hi, Erica!

Following the pink arrows!

Day 1:

Just a little note before you start reading. I could type all day for the rest of my life and never, ever capture the true essence of Tour de Pink. Even as a writer there are no words strong enough to describe to you what I felt this past weekend. There is not enough time in the world to write every detail, every feeling, every emotion. I don’t even remember it all, it was such a whirlwind.

The day starts with a breakfast buffet followed by a mandatory rider meeting, in which the route guide goes over that day’s route, what to look for in terms of traffic patterns, etc. and you pick up your cue sheets. There’s a map at breakfast each morning of that day’s route with the elevation, grade, etc. Breakfast was always scrambled eggs, potatoes, bacon, bagels, muffins, juice, coffee, the whole shebang. I tried to eat like I normally do; no more, no less. So I always had eggs and some potatoes and lots of fruit. No coffee and limited water (or orange juice) until the first rest stop since I have a pee-pee problem and have to go all the time.

After you ate and after the rider meeting you’d get yourself ready to go. Grab your bike, put your cleats on, helmet, gloves, etc. I always made sure I had an energy bar in my jersey and on my bike pouch each morning.

Throughout the entire weekend, the most nerve-wracking moments were right before we started in the morning. Once we actually started riding, my nerves settled a little and I got into my groove.

The first day we departed from King of Prussia outside of Philadelphia. The ride always starts with the breast cancer survivors up front to take photos. I did not like being in the front since it takes me a while to get into my own pace, so I always let the faster cyclists go ahead of me once we actually start riding.

The day 1 start was emotional, as I thought it would be. I kept waiting and waiting to JUST START the ride already. So when it actually happened, and when we rode out of the hotel parking lot onto the street, people were cheering, I was cheering, and it was like FINALLY, I AM DOING THIS.

Each morning’s start was pretty remarkable because everyone starts together and you ride as a tight and clumped together group for the first 20 or 30 minutes. People are talking to one another, saying “good morning,” etc. Since our rider numbers also have our names and cities we live, it’s easy to get to know people. Some of the riders would pass me in the morning and say “good morning, Marjorie,” or “how are you feeling, Marjorie?” That was pretty neat that everyone could see your name from the back. It helped out a lot throughout the whole weekend; you always knew who you were riding with since we all kind of looked the same with our jerseys and Oakleys.

I was told day 1 would be the hilliest, which it was. Despite my seven months of training on State College hills, some of day 1’s hills were so hard I had to walk up then. They were endless. I didn’t feel terrible because a lot of people were walking up some of the hills. They weren’t rolling hills; they literally were endless hills that just kept going.

The entire route is marked with pink arrows, which are really easy to follow.

About every 20 miles there is a SAG stop which provides food, water, energy gels, bike mechanic, etc. The SAG stops are a little overwhelming because there is so much food to choose from (Oreos, Fig Newtons, bananas, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Gatorade, energy gels, granola bars, etc.) and not really a whole lot of time. You kind of have to eat fast, go to the bathroom and get back on the road. You can’t stop for too long or else your body thinks you’re done for the day.

So I’d get to a rest stop, Sean would greet me and kiss me and take my bike. He’d fill my tires with air while I took a drink of water and ate something. Then I’d hit the porta-potty while he brought my bike back, and I’d head back out.

Riders come into the SAG stops at different times and leave at different times. The “lunch” stops are not really lunch. You’d eat like half a sandwich (days 1 and 2 there was Panera), do your stuff and then go. So I was eating little bits throughout the day.

Anyway, day 1 was rough and hilly. As I got to the last 7 miles in Lancaster I had my first “moment.” I was riding by myself and it was really traffic-heavy, and I was approaching a hill with no shoulder. I pulled over, called Sean crying and said I needed someone to ride with. He told me to start pedaling and he’d come around with the car and drive behind me.

And then I found Barb and Deanne (more about them later). I rode with them the rest of the way to the hotel. They were calm in traffic, pointed out every single pothole, and helped me relax through the busy streets of Lancaster. And Sean was with me the whole rest of that day. We made it to the hotel and day 1 (65 miles) was done.

When you get to the hotel you check in, get your room key, and have a chance to sign up for a massage/chiropractor. There’s also a table with food and water. And there is NO down-time after the day’s ride. I’d shower and quickly get downstairs to get a massage and then go to dinner.

Prior to Tour de Pink I had been asked to speak, as a first time rider and survivor, at Friday night’s dinner. I prepared a speech, which you can read here:

Hello, my name is Marjorie and this is my first year riding in Tour de Pink. I am a 2 and a half year breast cancer survivor. Thank you so much for allowing me to share my story with you tonight. When I was a little girl I owned a little purple bike I would ride around the neighborhood. As I grew up and the years went on, I rode that bike less and less. Then I only rode while away at summer camp. They made us go BMX’ing on dirt roads, which absolutely terrified me. In fact, bike riding might have been one of my least favorite camp activities.I never rode much after that until about two years ago when my husband convinced me to buy a bike, since he had one and loved riding. I said I wasn’t really interested, but I’d get one anyway, just for fun. We went to a bicycle shop where we live, and I told one of the employees I was looking for a bike to casually ride around town. He asked me what type of bike I was looking for. I said, “I don’t care as long as it’s pink.”Little did I know I was gonna need a little bit more than that! I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April 2011 at the age of 26. I had gotten engaged only two months earlier, and couldn’t understand why this was happening to me. I was healthy, young and in great shape. And I was planning my wedding. As a writer and someone who is very open with her feelings, I reached out to family, friends and support groups, and started a blog, Pink and Pearls, where I wrote about my daily struggles of trying to plan a wedding while dealing with breast cancer. I wrote about my biopsies and results and my tumor margins and surgery prep and surgery recovery and my drains and my fears and my worries and my anxieties. I wrote about my emergency surgery during my bachelorette weekend, and walking down the aisle with only one breast. I wrote about my wedding dress fittings and shopping for prosthetics, and the pain killers and place card settings. I wrote about the food tasting and the flowers and fear of getting breast cancer again. I wrote for myself: to help me sort out my very complex and continuously changing feelings. I wrote for my family and friends: to keep them up to date on test results and how I was doing, and when my next surgery was. And I wrote for awareness: because young women can and do get breast cancer. I wanted to share my story of how I found my lump myself, and maybe even inspire other women. My wedding in March 2012, and the Europe honeymoon that followed it, was absolutely perfect. A dream. And today, more than two years later, and after six surgeries which included a double mastectomy and reconstruction, I am healthy and strong. Somewhere along the way of my recovering and discovering a life after breast cancer, I decided I wanted to do everything in my power to remain healthy and strong and to challenge myself. And I wanted to keep raising awareness. People give me a look of shock when I tell them I’ve had breast cancer. They can’t believe it could happen to someone so young. But it does. And we need to make sure we support these young women and their families, and work towards a day where it doesn’t happen anymore. That’s why I continue to write.And that’s why I’m riding.I was a new runner around the time of my diagnosis in April 2011, and between breast cancer surgeries, and after, I kept up with my running and even began excelling at it. I was always signing up for a 5K: I wanted to push myself, challenge myself. I found comfort and peace in running; when my feet hit the pavement I felt a sense of control over my body: that I was bringing out the best in it. And that’s how I’ve come to feel with cycling. Since my diagnosis I have found so much help and support through the Young Survival Coalition. I had somewhere to turn as a young woman. I check the website regularly, read news articles and survivor stories, and reach out through the message boards. I find comfort in seeing the pictures of young women who have stories similar to mine. I had heard of Tour de Pink before but never thought it would be something I would do. Then this past February, I saw the East Coast ride was open for registration, and it was going to be in my neck of the woods, from Philadelphia to Washington, D.C.! I looked at the date, looked at our calendars, which were completely clear! I felt this push inside of me. I can’t explain it. It was in my heart, my gut, my head and my soul. I HAVE TO DO THIS, I thought. I HAVE TO DO THIS.I spoke with my husband, who has been an incredible support system, and he said, without hesitation, to do it! I think I signed up that day, and sent in an application to receive a Liv/Giant bike, which I received a few months later. I signed up knowing I’m not a cyclist. I signed up knowing I had a lot of training and work to do. I signed up knowing this will be one of the biggest challenges I ever take on. But I signed up knowing it will also be one of the best experiences of my life.Since February my husband, Sean, has been training with me. He’s told me I can do it when I feel like I can’t. He’s kept me on the bike, continuously telling me I’m doing great, even when I’m crying, and tells me all the time that my family and friends, and everyone who loves me, knows I can do this and is counting on me. I decided to ride for myself. To take control of my life and my health. I decided to ride for myself because I can. I am healthy and strong and there is nothing stopping me, and nothing in my way. I want the experience. I want to challenge myself. I want to say I did it.  I’m riding for young women who are faced with breast cancer. Because they should never have to fight alone. Because not all of them can ride. I want to ride for them. Breast cancer is terrifying for anyone. Man or woman, at any age. And for their families and friends. I want to do everything in my power to be a part of the fight. Tour de Pink is my chance to accomplish something great. Tour de Pink is my chance to say goodbye to the scared little girl with the tiny purple bike and hit the road with strength, determination and vigor. Everybody’s story is different. Everybody’s journey is different. Finding myself and my peace after breast cancer is a constant challenge, and one that is continuously evolving. But I’ve found my place with the Young Survival Coalition and Tour de Pink. Thank you for bringing me this opportunity. I’ll see you at the finish line!

The experience was amazing. I received a standing ovation at the end, and the ENTIRE rest of the weekend everybody knew me from my speech and kept telling me, on days 2 and 3, how great it was, how inspiring I was, etc. A few people even told me they stayed up all night that night reading Pink and Pearls! The support was amazing. I was overwhelmed at how nice people were to me. No lie, I even had a guy tell me I should go into politics because I was “such a great public speaker.” People were phenomenal. I can’t even put into words the response I got.

After day 1 I was a little worried about the rest of the weekend. The first day was only 65 miles, but I was exhausted and really sore. Since day 2 you could choose 60 or 90 miles (or somewhere in between), I kept asking some of the riders who had done Tour de Pink before how many people actually do the 90 miles. They said very few. The whole weekend I knew I could stop at any time. I knew I wanted to do the full 65 the first day and the full 57 the last day, but day 2 I had kind of told myself I would see how I felt. I’d definitely do 60 and then play it by ear. As Tour de Pink was approaching I doubted my ability to do 90 more and more, and especially when I got to Tour de Pink and began asking people about it, I felt even more like it was out of reach.

I went to bed that night telling myself I would do my best the next day. 60 definitely. But 90? Probably not. And I would be OK with that. I would be OK with anything I did on day 2 because I was doing my best.