Next weekend, I will participate in the 20th annual Tour de Cure, a bike ride sponsored by the American Diabetes Association. I have signed up to ride the 47-mile route, which will be my longest ride yet. When I started riding a bike earlier this year, never did I think I would (or could) ride a route that long. I’ve never participated in any kind of organized sports or athletics and I’m still not sure I consider myself an “athlete, ” as that categorization seems more fitting for someone more disciplined, coordinated and, well, fit than I am.
But here I am anyway, just 8 days from riding 47 miles.
I have to admit that my palms get a little sweaty when I think about what I’m about to do.
So why do I put myself through this? There are two main reasons.
Firstly, I ride because I can. I don’t mean to sound boastful and I don’t say that in a prideful way. I ride because my body works. I have arms and legs and hands and feet that allow me to not only walk and climb stairs and dance, and that same ability to move means I can physically ride a bike. God helps me to remember that this body is one he has given to me…it’s not my own and I don’t have to look far to see people my age with bodies that don’t work as well. My health is a blessing. How could I not do something with the ability to move? I see people all of the time who have been slowed by injury, illness, age or some combination of the three. While I’m certainly not as young as I once was, I’m also not as old as I’m (hopefully) going to get. Move it or lose it.
The second reason I ride, and this ties in with the first, is that diabetes has impacted my family. My grandfather, Grandpa Charlie, was the first diabetic I knew. I didn’t understand what that meant as a kid, but whenever he was around I kept hearing about how he needed to eat every so often and he had to check his blood and give himself shots. It sounded like a complicated chore to my kid ears. As an insulin-dependent diabetic, my Grandpa had to take care of himself to keep the diabetes in check. Life changes toward the end of his life prevented him from taking the kind of care of himself that he needed to and he eventually died from complications related to diabetes.
My mother was a diabetic, and my father is also diabetic. Though neither parent needed/needs to inject insulin, the reality of parents with this disease means that if I don’t take my health seriously, the chances are high that I will end up with the same diagnosis. Though it’s entirely possible that I will die peacefully in the middle of the night of unknown causes, I have to do my best to take care of myself and for now, that means riding a bike. My diet is still not where it needs to be and I could probably use less caffeine and more sleep, but I am doing myself a solid by riding.
When I ride, I have a chance to clear my mind. I have a chance to be in my skin. My cycling has challenged me to meet, and exceed, various goals and I begin to think differently about myself because I’ve met those goals. It keeps me out of therapy. (Seriously.) It helps me to feel alive. I praise God when I ride simply because I can. I don’t take the ability to move for granted. Every mile ridden with a sore butt or a skinned knee or sweat in my eyes reminds me that the God who made me gave me this opportunity, this luxury. How could I not empty that cup?
So even though I’m a little nervous about the ride next week, I know that I will ride the entire 47 miles. I will enjoy the experience. I will ride because I can. I will ride in honor of, and in memory of, those who can’t.
Thank you to Dad, Aunt Rose, Randy and Kelley for your support!
Though I’ve met the minimum fundraising goal, there’s still time to support me in Houston’s Tour de Cure! Click here to go to my personal page!
