Cancer
24 Hours of Booty: Part 3 of 3
Sore!! In a word, that is what I was as I drove to the hotel with my wife. Not a bad sore, but definitely hurting. The night had turned both wet and cold. I was so looking forward to a hot shower, snacking on some junk food, and crawling into a warm soft bed. So was my wife.
We got back to the hotel, grabbed our wet clothes, and headed to the room. The walk from the parking lot to the hotel lobby seemed long. Did I say, seemed long? It was long and made more so by the fact the elevators in the hotel were not working. I could not believe after riding for hours my wife and I were now looking at a nice stair climb. I started laughing as we headed down the hall to the stairs and started the climb to our room.
We finally got to our floor and our room. Comfort at last. Hot showers were the first order of business followed by a proper face stuffing of chips, soda, and, believe it or not, ice cream. Pure comfort food. My wife settled into watching a little late night television, while I got out the laptop and popped on Facebook and the Twitter.
Then… Sweet sleep.
Sore!! I thought I was sore as I drove to the hotel. Wrong!! Sore is what I was when I woke in the morning… lol. Sunday for me, I knew was a short day. I had to pick up our kids well before the end of the event. My wife, however, was staying and riding the whole day. Knowing how I felt, when I woke, I just looked over at her and smiled. I knew she was sore also, more so even as she rode longer the night before.
We got up. We got dressed. We packed our things and checked out. First order of business was a hot coffee and breakfast at Bootyville. When we arrived, the sky was still overcast with a misty intermittent rain coming down. Bootyville was hopping, though, with a mixture of cyclists that rode through the night and new cyclists coming in or returning to ride on Sunday.
We grabbed a coffee and some eggs and had a quiet breakfast under the mess tent together. My wife was itching to get back on her bike and I was looking forward to capturing some images of the event. We walked back to our Jeep and I helped my wife ready her bike for the day. I wished her well and gave her a kiss before she headed out. I then turned to my camera bag. I grabbed my Canon 40D, my EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS lens, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed out.
Photography for me is a passion, a passion I hope that comes through my images. No, I did not ride on Sunday. It was my hope, though, that my images would capture the passion of others as they rode for such a worthy cause. As my own worst critic, I cannot say if my images do that or not. I will leave that up to others to decide. What I will say is, I am truly in awe of the folks that came out to ride and help to their part to rid the world of Cancer.
We got back to the hotel, grabbed our wet clothes, and headed to the room. The walk from the parking lot to the hotel lobby seemed long. Did I say, seemed long? It was long and made more so by the fact the elevators in the hotel were not working. I could not believe after riding for hours my wife and I were now looking at a nice stair climb. I started laughing as we headed down the hall to the stairs and started the climb to our room.
We finally got to our floor and our room. Comfort at last. Hot showers were the first order of business followed by a proper face stuffing of chips, soda, and, believe it or not, ice cream. Pure comfort food. My wife settled into watching a little late night television, while I got out the laptop and popped on Facebook and the Twitter.
Then… Sweet sleep.
Sore!! I thought I was sore as I drove to the hotel. Wrong!! Sore is what I was when I woke in the morning… lol. Sunday for me, I knew was a short day. I had to pick up our kids well before the end of the event. My wife, however, was staying and riding the whole day. Knowing how I felt, when I woke, I just looked over at her and smiled. I knew she was sore also, more so even as she rode longer the night before.
We got up. We got dressed. We packed our things and checked out. First order of business was a hot coffee and breakfast at Bootyville. When we arrived, the sky was still overcast with a misty intermittent rain coming down. Bootyville was hopping, though, with a mixture of cyclists that rode through the night and new cyclists coming in or returning to ride on Sunday.
We grabbed a coffee and some eggs and had a quiet breakfast under the mess tent together. My wife was itching to get back on her bike and I was looking forward to capturing some images of the event. We walked back to our Jeep and I helped my wife ready her bike for the day. I wished her well and gave her a kiss before she headed out. I then turned to my camera bag. I grabbed my Canon 40D, my EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS lens, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed out.
Photography for me is a passion, a passion I hope that comes through my images. No, I did not ride on Sunday. It was my hope, though, that my images would capture the passion of others as they rode for such a worthy cause. As my own worst critic, I cannot say if my images do that or not. I will leave that up to others to decide. What I will say is, I am truly in awe of the folks that came out to ride and help to their part to rid the world of Cancer.
For more information:
24 HOURS OF BOOTY
338 S. Sharon-Amity Road
P.O. Box 270
Charlotte, N.C. 28211
---
Phone: 704-365-4417
Toll-free: 877-365-4417
Fax: 704-365-4418
---
E-mail: info@24hoursofbooty.org
Web: www.24hoursofbooty.org
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24 Hours of Booty: Part 2 of 3
The day of the event came. As forecast, the weather was shaping up to be cold and wet. Although not the best conditions for riding a bike for 24 hours, my wife and I were prepared. Or, so we thought… Armed with new cycling jackets and pants, along with a few changes of regular cycling clothes, we loaded up our bikes and waited. When the grandparents arrived, we kissed our kids goodbye, as if we would never see them again, and drove over to the event.
The event location for 24 Hours of Booty was in one of the many business parks in Columbia, Maryland. Mostly flat, except for one hill, it was a good location with lots of parking and easy access. When we got to Columbia, we stopped off at our hotel. Briefly checking out our room, we changed into our cycling clothes and left for the event.
Arriving at 24 Hours of Booty, Bootyville greeted us on the way in. Bootyville… The event staging area and freshly created tent town. On one side of the road, Bootyville consisted of the official white tents of the organization and its sponsors. On the other side of the road, Bootyville was home away from home for all those cyclists brave enough to camp out in the cold and rain. Bootyville was not quite, Deadwood, South Dakota, but that thought did cross my mind as we drove in and added to my enjoyment of the event.
My wife and I arrived close to the start at 4:00 p.m. We parked our Jeep, got our bikes down and ready, and headed towards the starting location. A brief look around Bootyville and we walked over to the opening ceremonies. A light rain had already started to fall. It was there in the crowd, that a chill came over me that was not weather related. Like lions on the Serengeti, I noticed kids on BMX bikes sizing up this unconditioned cyclist and singling me out.
Cold and raining, everyone made their way over to the starting line. The spirits were high from all the cyclists. Everyone was ready and excited as we were released to ride. My first cycling event had begun.
My wife, who had been riding all summer and was much more conditioned for the event than I, had promised to ride with me. Our love and marriage being strong and true, she was more than ready to leave my ass behind before the completion of the first lap. Looking back at me at one point, she smiled and shook her head as one of those kids on a BMX bike blew past me. I just laughed and told her to ride at her own pace. And so… My solitary ride began. Not a bad thing, really. Reflection is quite good for the soul.
The circuit seemed easy, to easy. Then, as I was cruising along at 25 miles per hour down a sweet incline, I hit Mount Merkle. Mount Merkle, that seemingly easy hill at the end of the loop. That hill many a cyclist would come to hate in the next 24 hours. That hill one has to mount before comfort can be found in Bootyville. The first few times around, it seemed okay. As the night wore on, however, Mount Merkle became my demon. I dreaded it and that part of the loop. It hurt.
Two times around the circuit and into Bootyville. That became my routine. After my first two laps, I came into Bootyville seeking something for a pounding headache that had developed. I grab some Advil from a volunteer and a couple of NutriGrain bars and was back to riding. As the night progressed and the light rain turned into heavy downpours, my routine sustained me and gave me a goal. Two laps and Bootyville. Two laps and a rest and hot coffee.
I indicated earlier, I was a solitary rider. Alone for the most part with just my thoughts and the occasional cyclist asking… “Are you okay?” Or, the more frequent… “Left, Left, Left”. Every time I heard, “Left”, I so wanted to callout, “Right”. Yes, this solitary rider owned the “Right”!! The right is where I rode. From the start of the event until I stopped riding later in the night, I was alone, on the right, and in my thoughts.
Although I was doing 24 Hours of Booty in memory of my mother who lost her battle with breast and bone cancer in 1988, my thoughts while riding also involved two other people. The first person was my grandmother on my mother’s side. She was diagnosed with breast cancer back in the 1950’s and by some miracle managed to survive it. She helped raise me in an extended family that consisted of herself, my grandfather, and my mother. She lived to see her 80s. The second was a client of mine from a few years back. She was a lovely woman who had brain cancer. Her family was Irish and she hired me to take candid and locational portraits of her then three year old daughter, Teagan, in traditional Irish clothing. To this day, I consider the images I took of Teagan do be some of my best work.
Staying on the right in the pouring rain, deep in thought, forcing my way up Mount Merkle for my reward every two laps in Bootyville, I rode. Occasionally, I would meet up with my wife. We would ride briefly together and then split. That night I rode from 4:00 p.m. until 10:30 p.m. My wife from 4:00 p.m. until 11:30 p.m. When we both stopped, it was pouring rain, we were freezing, and we didn’t have any dry clothes. As we made our way to the hotel for the night, we wished we could have rode longer but were happy with what we accomplished.
continued...
The event location for 24 Hours of Booty was in one of the many business parks in Columbia, Maryland. Mostly flat, except for one hill, it was a good location with lots of parking and easy access. When we got to Columbia, we stopped off at our hotel. Briefly checking out our room, we changed into our cycling clothes and left for the event.
Arriving at 24 Hours of Booty, Bootyville greeted us on the way in. Bootyville… The event staging area and freshly created tent town. On one side of the road, Bootyville consisted of the official white tents of the organization and its sponsors. On the other side of the road, Bootyville was home away from home for all those cyclists brave enough to camp out in the cold and rain. Bootyville was not quite, Deadwood, South Dakota, but that thought did cross my mind as we drove in and added to my enjoyment of the event.
My wife and I arrived close to the start at 4:00 p.m. We parked our Jeep, got our bikes down and ready, and headed towards the starting location. A brief look around Bootyville and we walked over to the opening ceremonies. A light rain had already started to fall. It was there in the crowd, that a chill came over me that was not weather related. Like lions on the Serengeti, I noticed kids on BMX bikes sizing up this unconditioned cyclist and singling me out.
Cold and raining, everyone made their way over to the starting line. The spirits were high from all the cyclists. Everyone was ready and excited as we were released to ride. My first cycling event had begun.
My wife, who had been riding all summer and was much more conditioned for the event than I, had promised to ride with me. Our love and marriage being strong and true, she was more than ready to leave my ass behind before the completion of the first lap. Looking back at me at one point, she smiled and shook her head as one of those kids on a BMX bike blew past me. I just laughed and told her to ride at her own pace. And so… My solitary ride began. Not a bad thing, really. Reflection is quite good for the soul.
The circuit seemed easy, to easy. Then, as I was cruising along at 25 miles per hour down a sweet incline, I hit Mount Merkle. Mount Merkle, that seemingly easy hill at the end of the loop. That hill many a cyclist would come to hate in the next 24 hours. That hill one has to mount before comfort can be found in Bootyville. The first few times around, it seemed okay. As the night wore on, however, Mount Merkle became my demon. I dreaded it and that part of the loop. It hurt.
Two times around the circuit and into Bootyville. That became my routine. After my first two laps, I came into Bootyville seeking something for a pounding headache that had developed. I grab some Advil from a volunteer and a couple of NutriGrain bars and was back to riding. As the night progressed and the light rain turned into heavy downpours, my routine sustained me and gave me a goal. Two laps and Bootyville. Two laps and a rest and hot coffee.
I indicated earlier, I was a solitary rider. Alone for the most part with just my thoughts and the occasional cyclist asking… “Are you okay?” Or, the more frequent… “Left, Left, Left”. Every time I heard, “Left”, I so wanted to callout, “Right”. Yes, this solitary rider owned the “Right”!! The right is where I rode. From the start of the event until I stopped riding later in the night, I was alone, on the right, and in my thoughts.
Although I was doing 24 Hours of Booty in memory of my mother who lost her battle with breast and bone cancer in 1988, my thoughts while riding also involved two other people. The first person was my grandmother on my mother’s side. She was diagnosed with breast cancer back in the 1950’s and by some miracle managed to survive it. She helped raise me in an extended family that consisted of herself, my grandfather, and my mother. She lived to see her 80s. The second was a client of mine from a few years back. She was a lovely woman who had brain cancer. Her family was Irish and she hired me to take candid and locational portraits of her then three year old daughter, Teagan, in traditional Irish clothing. To this day, I consider the images I took of Teagan do be some of my best work.
Staying on the right in the pouring rain, deep in thought, forcing my way up Mount Merkle for my reward every two laps in Bootyville, I rode. Occasionally, I would meet up with my wife. We would ride briefly together and then split. That night I rode from 4:00 p.m. until 10:30 p.m. My wife from 4:00 p.m. until 11:30 p.m. When we both stopped, it was pouring rain, we were freezing, and we didn’t have any dry clothes. As we made our way to the hotel for the night, we wished we could have rode longer but were happy with what we accomplished.
continued...
For more information:
24 HOURS OF BOOTY
338 S. Sharon-Amity Road
P.O. Box 270
Charlotte, N.C. 28211
---
Phone: 704-365-4417
Toll-free: 877-365-4417
Fax: 704-365-4418
---
E-mail: info@24hoursofbooty.org
Web: www.24hoursofbooty.org
24 Hours of Booty: Part 1 of 3
I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to ride my new Trek 7300 for 24 hours. I told my wife she was crazy if she thought she was going to ride. We had just gotten into biking earlier this year, my wife for the first time. For me, it had been many years since I rode. The 24 Hours of Booty event seemed so out of reach physically. It still does even now when I think about it.
The day approached when my wife had to pick up her event package. She asked if I wanted to come along with her. I told her I would, as it was an opportunity to look around and shop at one of the larger cycling stores in our area. The day arrived. We drove over.
On the drive over, I was still thinking she was nuts to do the event. The weather forecast was not good. Rain. She told me about other riders on Twitter talking about the weather… how to prepare… what to wear… Crazy I thought. Ride a bike in the rain for 24 hours?
The mission? Conduct 24-hour cycling events to raise awareness, funds, and support for the Lance Armstrong Foundation and local cancer organizations. Life saving work, a great cause, and a wonderful organization.
My wife and I got to the store. I still wasn’t going to ride. When we walked in, however, something changed for me. I started to think about my mother. She battled cancer for over five years before it took her a few weeks before her 50th birthday. She was first diagnosed with breast cancer and then bone cancer.
Seeing the 24 Hours of Booty table in the store and the people there to pick up their event package, I thought about my mother and all her struggles with cancer. I thought of her long battle. I thought of her being totally bedridden at the end. I thought about her life on liquid morphine.
It was then that I knew I had to ride. It didn’t matter to me that I might not be able to ride very long or log a lot of miles. It didn’t matter that I didn’t think I was conditioned enough to ride. It didn’t matter that, unlike my wife, I hadn’t been seeking sponsors for the event. I did matter that I make an effort. And so…I walked over to the table with my wife and registered.
continued...
The day approached when my wife had to pick up her event package. She asked if I wanted to come along with her. I told her I would, as it was an opportunity to look around and shop at one of the larger cycling stores in our area. The day arrived. We drove over.
On the drive over, I was still thinking she was nuts to do the event. The weather forecast was not good. Rain. She told me about other riders on Twitter talking about the weather… how to prepare… what to wear… Crazy I thought. Ride a bike in the rain for 24 hours?
The mission? Conduct 24-hour cycling events to raise awareness, funds, and support for the Lance Armstrong Foundation and local cancer organizations. Life saving work, a great cause, and a wonderful organization.
My wife and I got to the store. I still wasn’t going to ride. When we walked in, however, something changed for me. I started to think about my mother. She battled cancer for over five years before it took her a few weeks before her 50th birthday. She was first diagnosed with breast cancer and then bone cancer.
Seeing the 24 Hours of Booty table in the store and the people there to pick up their event package, I thought about my mother and all her struggles with cancer. I thought of her long battle. I thought of her being totally bedridden at the end. I thought about her life on liquid morphine.
It was then that I knew I had to ride. It didn’t matter to me that I might not be able to ride very long or log a lot of miles. It didn’t matter that I didn’t think I was conditioned enough to ride. It didn’t matter that, unlike my wife, I hadn’t been seeking sponsors for the event. I did matter that I make an effort. And so…I walked over to the table with my wife and registered.
continued...
For more information:
24 HOURS OF BOOTY
338 S. Sharon-Amity Road
P.O. Box 270
Charlotte, N.C. 28211
---
Phone: 704-365-4417
Toll-free: 877-365-4417
Fax: 704-365-4418
---
E-mail: info@24hoursofbooty.org
Web: www.24hoursofbooty.org