If you read this blog, then you've already seen the video, because we're Facebook friends, and that's where it's been posted. But just in case there is some cosmic weirdness that makes it so you haven't seen the video I made recapping the day, here you go:
Now for some details not shown in the video:
From Alberta to Saratoga Springs is about 30 miles. This is
the part I was using Ellen’s bike for, and that I was unable to complete because my knee and
periformis muscles – both sides – started hurting. I didn’t want to cause
further injury, which is why I chose to only do 16 miles of it. What you don’t
see is the smell of those 16 miles. It smelled like there was a giant herd of
farting cows in front of me. I pointed this out to Jim and Ellen as they drove
by me during part of it, and they cheerfully said that’s because I was riding
next to a giant herd of farting cows. Alrighty then!
When the SAG vehicle picked me up on the Eureka hill, there
were already two riders in it, and room for only two bikes on it. Both of them
were there not because their bikes were broken, but because they were too tired/whatever
to ride. One of them was about my age - Dave; the other was in his late
20s/early 30s. When it became clear that my bike wasn’t fixable without proper
tools, Dave opted to get out and start riding. I assured him that to climb
Eureka would give him serious bragging rights. I offered to give him a pushing
start since he was starting on a hill. He declined – more out of pride I think
than anything else. I saw him a few other times during the day, and it looked
like he was riding as much as I was. I was there when he crossed the finish
line and made sure to congratulate him. It takes guts to start riding again, and
he tackled a really tough part of the course.
On Louise
When I got in the SAG vehicle and we headed towards Eureka,
we drove past Louise and Jeff. I turned to Jake and said, “Look at her. That’s
my awesome sister who I admire and look up to in just about every way. She is
climbing Eureka. She is freaking sixty-six years old and climbing Eureka.” We
all paused, considering this fact. I wasn’t saying it to be disrespectful to
the young kid who was NOT climbing Eureka, but who had, in fact, been in the
SAG vehicle ever since Silver Springs, some 25 miles behind us. But if he took
it as such motivation, that’s okay too. Anyway, after a few moments
consideration on the awesomeness of Louise, I turned to Jake again and said, “Seriously.
Sixty-six. What are YOU going to be doing when you’re sixty-six?” He said, “I
hope to be climbing Eureka!”
When we stopped in Eureka, the kid in the SAG car said, “I’m
going to ride now.” I encouraged him and told him he was going to really enjoy
that downhill, but to be careful because you can get going pretty dang fast. He
didn’t say much. I don’t know if he wondered how I knew so much about the downhill,
or thought I was picking on him for not riding. I don’t know if he wasn’t
feeling well and that’s why he couldn’t ride, or was just
under-prepared/trained. But I do know I saw him later on in another SAG
vehicle.
Seriously. Louise sets the standard for determination,
courage and just-do-it-ness. Watching her cross that finish line was the
highlight of the entire day. Even some days later as I reflect on that day,
that moment warms my crusty heart.
On Reo
Story #1: When Reo was 18 months old he contracted polio. T
his was in the days before a vaccination was available. It was also in the days
that it would kill or paralyze more than half a million people each year
(worldwide). Thankfully, neither happened to him, but it did affect his legs.
Sandra and Louise, his two older sisters, each had a tricycle. To help
facilitate the rehabilitation process for Reo, they both agreed to give up
their trikes for him. My dad took the larger wheel off each and made a bicycle
for him to help his legs get strong. One leg was shorter than the other, so my
dad put a block on that pedal and at certain intervals would shave some height
off the block to encourage his leg to grow stronger and longer.
Story #2: In January when Reo decided for sure he was going
to participate in the Huntsman 140, we knew he wouldn’t be able to ride that
distance using his current bike – a heavy-duty mountain bike. (Seriously. I
hefted that thing and it weighs a good 30 or 40 pounds.) Neva and I looked through
the classified ads for a used, good-condition, reasonably-priced road bike. We
made some phone calls, and located on that seemed like it would be a good fit
and price in Park City. We made plans to go there (which fit in nicely since we
were going to go cross-country skiing that day anyway) and look at the bike. We
met the seller at his house to look at the bike. Neva lifted it with her hand
and declared immediately, based on its weight alone, that we would take it. The
guy was taken aback by our enthusiasm and started hemming and hawing that maybe
he should charge us more because he was selling it for someone else, and maybe the
asking price was too low and… I said, “Look. This bike is 10 years old. Ten
years ago it would have cost x-amount of dollars. Considering time and
depreciation, you’re getting a fair return on its value now. You advertised it
at one price; we’re not going to pay you more now. Take it or leave it.” He
took it. We paid him cash, and agreed that we would split the price so Reo
could have a road-worthy bike for the Huntsman.
The first time Reo saw that bike was on the Thursday before
the H140. He swapped the pedals and seat from his old bike onto his new one,
and zoomed off. He said it made him feel like a kid again to be able to ride
that fast and easily. We were all amazed that he had done as much training as
he had on the old one.
Story #3: That Thursday we did a family
get-together/training ride. We met in Salt Lake and rode out to the Great Salt
Lake Marina (not sure if that’s the official name) and back again – about 30
miles total. On the way back Reo told me the story about the two tricycles and
his polio. He reflected on how much he was enjoying his new bike and observed, “It
does not escape my notice that both times my sisters have sacrificed to get me
a bike. In fact, I can scarcely think about it without getting emotional.”
On Neva
She is the center of our team. We appointed her team captain
– both because she started this craziness three years ago when she rode in her
first Huntsman 140, and because she is the most experienced cyclist. She not
only was our team captain, but our coach and cheerleader. Distance didn’t allow
all of us to train together, so she encouraged and coached us from afar, and
from anear when circumstances allowed – by doing training rides with Ellen up
Emigration Canyon, and Louise when she was able to go to Utah to visit other
family members. Neva was also one of the official Huntsman Hometown Hero
coaches; we would have been stupid to not take advantage of her knowledge,
expertise and experience.
Besides being a great coach and mentor, she is a caring and
loving person and sister. For the day of the ride, we had agreed to stick
together for the first 12 miles – up to the chalk memorial point, then would
ride according to our own comfort levels and paces. It was understood that she and James, being
the strongest riders, would go on ahead and likely finish hours ahead of the
rest of us. I was cognizant of that fact when my chain broke, and really did
tell them to please just go on. I knew how important it was to Neva to ride
strong and finish strong (and early). I didn’t want to impede them in any way.
They both just shrugged that off and kept working carefully and oh-so-patiently
on that chain. When they got it fixed, I told them again to please not worry
about me. I’d keep up for as long as I could but to not worry about carrying me
along.
They ignored that plea as well, and not only kept me with
them, but let me lead the train sometimes, making me feel like one of the “big
boys,” in helping draft for them. I didn’t go as fast as they were capable of,
but they let me stay with them anyway – not just to the first break in Lyndyll
but all the way to Silver Springs as well. Neva finally agreed that if I couldn’t
stay with them after that to Eureka, they would keep their pace and meet me in
Elberta.
I am personally very glad they weren’t with me when the
chain broke the second time because it would have been more of a sacrifice for
them than it already had been.
When I joined them again in Jordan, they still let me feel
like an important part of their team, as we took turns drafting and pulling.
Neva continued to coach me on my bike, as I learned how to better and more
appropriately use the gears. And as you saw in the video, she and James stuck
with me up that last brutal hill. It was only pride that kept me on the bike at
that point – I really did not know how I was going to make it, but I wasn’t
about to quit while Neva was around. I have admired her my whole life and
wanted to do her proud.
When we crossed the finish line, she kept pedaling. “Why are
we still pedaling? The finish line is back there,” I complained.
“Come on, Laura. We’re not done yet! This ride is about making
it to the steps of the Huntsman – that’s where we’re going.” And we did. Another quarter or so mile up to
the cul-de-sac and back again to the “finish” line. Because when you’re with
Neva, that’s what you do – you finish.
She has overcome obstacles in her life I would not care to
face, and she has finished each one of them with grace and aplomb. The Huntsman
140 can be a parallel to her life – a tough ride, with hills and valleys,
discouraging moments and exhilarating downhills. One pedal stroke at a time will
get you through every mile.
Neva is not only a Huntsman Hometown Hero – she is mine.
On Ellen
Ellen and I provided road support for Neva in 2012. The ride
wasn’t as well organized as it is now, and I was frustrated watching Neva pedal
through those miles with no one by her side. When I told Ellen that I was
considering doing it the next year, she said, “Really? I would NEVER do that.”
She was very emphatic. “But I will ride support for you,” she said.
You could never ask for a better supporter on the road than
Ellen. She anticipates your needs, protects you from traffic, refills water
bottles, cheers, offers encouragement and praise. She did all those things for
me in 2013 – my first Huntsman 140. And she was just as emphatic about NOT
riding in it as she had been the year before.
I don’t know what changed her mind – that would be her story
to tell – but when she decided to participate, it tickled me. Not just because
of the whole “Never say ‘never’” thing, but because she was determined to get
ready. She knew from the beginning she wasn’t going to do the entire 140 miles –
for her, it was more about family togetherness – but she trained and got ready
beyond what she thought she was capable. Along the way, she shattered her own preconceptions
of herself and realized she’s an athlete. A very determined athlete and amazing
person.
You would all be so lucky to have her as your sister.
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| Not pictured: Ellen, because she's taking the picture. |
On James
You’ve already heard a little about how great he was and
encouraging and just fun to have on the ride. I have known James his entire
life, and have never heard him talk as much as I did in that one day. It was so
great to see him in his new element. He thought I was kidding when I said he
could do this professionally, but seriously. He is grace defined on a bicycle.
Not only as an athlete, but as a person. What you don’t see on the video is that
two miles into the ride, Louise got a flat tire. James stayed behind and helped
fix it, then caught up to the rest of us. You already heard how he stuck with
me and was so great to be willing to help his several-years-older-than-him aunt
make it through. He could be with the “cool” kids, but chose to stick with an
old lady.
When he would take the lead in the front of the train, he
would sit up in his saddle, take both hands off and use those times to eat and
drink. Effortless. It made me jealous that he could take it that easy when
compared to the times I was in the lead. It was a challenge for me to keep the
pace that he could do easily no-handed. Punk. I am immensely proud to be his
aunt.
On Rachael
Rachael is a friend of one of Neva’s daughters. Neva’s
enthusiasm is contagious enough that she makes anyone believe in themselves.
She convinced Rachael to be on our team, and Rachael started training only back
in March. She’s newer to this sport than I am. I didn’t have as much
opportunity to get to know her as I would have liked, but I know she set new
records for herself that day. She struggled with some physical challenges, and
kept pushing herself beyond what others would have. Jake confirmed what I
suspected, which is that she keeps going when others would quit. She wasn’t
able to complete as much of the ride as she would have liked, but she did more
than she thought she could.
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| Laura, Rachael, Reo, Neva, Coralee |
People who have watched the video tell me they wish they
could be part of my family. They see the wonderful support and love we lent to
each other, as demonstrated in the final hill and getting Louise across the
finish line. That’s the wonderful thing about events like this. It’s not an individual
effort – it’s the efforts of many that make finishing possible, wherever that
finish line is.
The best thing about the day wasn’t that I got to ride my
bike across Utah, through smelly cow farts, with muscle pain, and mechanical
difficulties. No, the best part of the day was watching Greg run alongside
Louise, and Don and Jared and Josie push and encourage her. It was seeing Jeff and Neva take
turns pushing her even though they had just pushed themselves physically beyond
their limits. It was watching James’s children wrap their arms around him, and
Julie welcome everyone with the same warm hug at the finish. It was Talena
playing “Let It Go,” for me from her mini-van while I struggled on the road to
Saratoga Springs. It was Kristina and Coralee making up cheers for us at every
intersection and making us laugh, and keeping their good spirits even when I
ran out of my own. It was watching Jeff ride alongside Louise when he was
enduring his own pain – just so his wife could have someone to ride with. It
was Nancy Beth crying with me as we emotionally watched our team push Louise up
the hill, and saying she would deny it (I have video proof of this). It was
Caleb and Micah and Liliana proudly holding signs to encourage Grandma Louise.
And I know I’m leaving people out of this list – it’s not intentional – it’s
just that there are too many moments for me to accurately capture and document.
It was that every family member wore a purple Team Sandra t-shirt with a
lightning bolt and cheered and encouraged us, even if they weren’t in Utah.
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| Cim |
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| Linda |
The best part of that day was love.
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| We weren't all quite ready for the photo yet. |
