A dark, moonless sky opened up above me as I hopped out of the car and stretched. It was a chilly, low-70s kind of morning, typical for this time of year, and I savored the feel. It would be unseasonably hot in just a few hours.
Frank Sinatra played from a speaker somewhere inside the large event tent. Good choice, I thought. Five in the morning was way too early for pop or alternative.
Across the still empty parking lot, I called to my friend Tressa and waved. “Hey, Tressa! It’s Game Day!” She smiled and gave me a thumbs up. Tressa and I serve on the Board of BikeMS Arizona. For the last eight months, since March, we’ve been meeting and planning. Now, it was Game Day.
I wore my classic “I Ride with MS” jersey — the jersey I always wear on Day 1 of the ride. The jersey that defines me? Maybe. I’ve ridden with MS for a long time. Eighteen years. In fact, it was the first weekend in October of 2006 when I woke up with a dark spot over my eye — my first MS symptom. I was diagnosed a few weeks later. Now, the first weekend of October of 2024, and I am still riding my bike. I am beyond blessed.
Having participated in the ride since 2010, I was excited to say “hi” to all of my BikeMS buddies from over the years. As I made my way to the tent, a man tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “Do you ride with MS?”
He must’ve noticed my jersey. I said, “Yes, I do,” and his next gesture took me by surprise, so much so that I was at a loss for words. “Would you please sign my BikeMS bandana?” he asked and handed me a pen. Choking back a tear, I said I was happy to.
Nothing is quite like the start of an athletic event, be it a ride or a run. There’s an energy in the air. Once upon a time, I’d get so nervous before events like this, but those days are long gone now. It’s not about performance or going fast or racing everyone to the top of the hill. (I was a bit competitive in my younger days!) And it’s not even about completion. It’s about the journey itself.
I’ve thought long and hard about what makes BikeMS so special. It’s the spirit, the energy. It’s the little touches: the arrows guiding you on your way, the tables decorated with potted succulents and cowboy boots, the massage table and the beer tent. It’s the friendliness, the smiles, the positivity, the joy. It’s the rest stop volunteers ringing their bells and cheering you on because they know that with every pedal stroke, with every new rider who fundraises, we are one step closer to creating a world free of MS. And yes, it’s also the food. Really, really good food.
At one of the rest stops, I met a woman in a wheelchair, a volunteer. Despite her tiny, withered legs that had atrophied from disuse, she had a vivacious spirit and we instantly connected. After a few minutes, I soon learned her story: prior to her diagnosis only four years ago, she was a professional triathlete living and training in Europe.
When she mentioned this, I looked again at her legs — her small legs that showed only the tiniest remnants of muscle. She was diagnosed with primary progressive MS — the most devastating kind, as if an MS diagnosis wasn’t devastating enough. With primary progressive MS, you do not get better. The disease simply progresses. And progresses. And progresses. Fast. Sometimes, really fast…until there is nothing left.
“Enjoy it,” she told me. “Enjoy every minute you can move your body. Enjoy riding your bike — and ride for as long as you can because there may come a day when…” Though she finished the sentence, I tuned out her words. I knew what she was going to say. And it was heartbreaking. It was heartbreaking to hear her say it — she, who just four short years ago was a superstar triathlete riding her bike with ease and strength.
But it needs to be said. For all of us. For those of us who have MS and those who don’t. MS has taught me never to take for granted the feel of witnessing the world from two wheels. And I am so blessed — so, so blessed to say, eighteen years after my diagnosis, I can still ride my bike.
And thanks to BikeMS, for those of us who can still ride our bikes, we can ride in support of those who no longer can. That said, I’m going to enjoy BikeMS for as long as I can. We all should because a day may come when BikeMS no longer exists.
And that’s a good thing.
You can still donate to the cause! Click here to help support a world free of MS.
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