The Story I Don't Tell

For the past couple years, I've been fundraising for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I've sent out a lot of updates about my cycling, and encouraging people to donate to the cause. I've told stories about conquering hills, conquering my mind, and being inspired by teammates who are cancer survivors. But there are stories I haven't told. I think I haven't talked about them, because reality can sometimes be a difficult thing. I haven't talked about them, because we all like happy endings. But the reality is, there is sometimes incredible sadness mixed in with stories of hope and inspiration.

One year ago, I was training for America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride around Lake Tahoe. I learned from a teammate about a young man who desperately needed a bone marrow transplant. Because he was half Caucasian and half Japanese, his chances of finding a donor were nearly impossible. There was a huge drive to find donors of any mixed Asian heritage, so I finally got on the national bone marrow registry. He eventually found a match, but unfortunately he still was not able to beat the disease, and he passed away in October 2009.

Today, I learned of the passing of a woman who was our Team Honoree during my first cycling season three years ago. Team Honorees are those people we honor who have beat or are fighting blood cancers. She eventually went on to complete a 100 mile bike ride the following year, after she finished chemo. I remember that first season, at our final send-off ride before the big event, she put her hands in paint and made hand prints on the backs of our jerseys, so that when the hills got steep, she would be there, "pushing us up to the top." My first and only event jersey I've ever worn is still the one that bears her hand prints. I thought that she had beat her cancer. It was heartbreaking to learn that she passed away Sunday, though not without many triumphs along the way.

This isn't my usual training update. I'm not writing this to simply tell a sad story. I think it's more that reality hit me today, that when you're involved in an organization that's trying to find a cure for cancer, there are many stories along the way, and some of them are painful. It reminds me why I'm doing this in the first place. When it seems like there's nothing we can do, there is something we can do, even if it doesn't seem like a lot.

Thanks for taking the time to read.

- Cheryl

I'm almost halfway to my fundraising goal, please donate