Last weekend, Pete rode his bike 111 miles to raise money for cancer research. They started in Sturbridge and ended in Bourne. There were 5,000 riders and nearly 3,000 volunteers, and all told raise a mind-blowing $34 million for Dana Farber.
Pete pulled the whole thing off in his typical style, with minimal fanfare. He was more stressed about the fundraising commitment (which he eaily met) than the ride itself. And of course he used the opportunity to purchase every piece of cycling gear imaginable.
When I first got to Bourne to watch Pete finish, he was still about an hour out, so I stood along the race route, about 1/2 mile out from the finish line, awkwardly clapping and shouting out the best words of encouragement I could muster..."Great job." "Good ride." "You did it." "Does your butt hurt?" "There's beer at the finish line."
I've complete enough road races to know how great it feels to hear encouraging words. And the more I stood there, the louder I clapped and cheered, and pretty soon there were tears streaming down my face because I was just overwhelmed that there could be so much positive energy and effort in the world and yet we still can't cure cancer. I saw people with goofy team costumes (team Kermit was my favorite), tongue-tangling mottos for cancers I'd never even heard of, pictures and names of loved ones lost, tributes to survivors. I felt proud and vulnerable, hopeful and scared.
When Pete rounded the corner on his bike in his teeny tiny black shorts I was jumping up & down, screaming like a lunatic, and bawling. I realized that just as I struggle to integrate cancer survivor into my day-to-day life and identity, he has similar, separate struggles. For one awful year of our lives, he watched and waited through surgery after surgery, chemo, hair loss, unfathomable fear and uncertainty. Now that we are back to "normal" life, the challenges are more subtle - hormone therapy side effects, recurrence scares, survival percentages, and the ever-present, nagging fear that our daughters will have to fight the same ugly disease.
So after three years of standing on his shoulders, it was just an amazing privelege to be the one on the sideline, cheering on my #1 fan.
4 comments:
Oh my goodness, you've got me crying over here. You're a great writer Elise, you really know how to convey the feeling of the moment. That is so awesome of Pete, what a great husband. I'll have to find a pic of a guy on Joe's softball team that had even tinier (I'm sure that's not a word), shorts.. scary short :)
Glad you had such a wonderful time.
Yay Pete! BTW, how's his butt?
I have heard "known as the Pentaveret" in my head ever since you wrote this!!
Well, I meant that comment for the Captain Pete post!
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