A Ride to Conquer Cancer, one training wheel at a time
June 30, 2010
Robert Buckman
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
I was there.
For the third consecutive year, I was a participant in the annual Ride to Conquer Cancer, a charity bicycle ride from Toronto to Niagara Falls, which took place June 12-13.
I know that, in many ways, the event is not such a huge deal. There are events of far greater significance, such as the World Cup, the G20 Summit or the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, some of which may have a wide and far-reaching impact.
So, by comparison, let’s face it, a two-day charity cycle ride is not exactly the kind of earth-shattering story the grandchildren will cluster around the knee and beg to be told again and again.
Even so, the Ride to Conquer Cancer is actually quite a big deal and it’s certainly a rather unusual event.
This year we raised a staggering total of $16.1 million for the Princess Margaret Hospital and the Campbell Family Institute, and there were 4,108 cyclists — a record number. We assembled at the CNE grounds where we were given a light breakfast and some heartwarming motivational speeches. Then it was ready-set-go, and off we ready-set-went.
You have no idea how wonderful it feels to be part of such a vast peloton of cyclists. Me and my team, Evan, Dilon, Alisha and Rajani, stayed near the back of the pack because we are polite and well-bred (i.e. easily scared). As a result of being in the rear, we didn’t actually get through the starting gate for about 35 minutes, by which time the fastest cyclists were probably already in Niagara, or even on the way back.
But once we were on the open road of Lakeshore Boulevard, it was all systems go. Like any well-trained convoy, our group all travelled at the speed of the slowest vessel, which was — as always — me. But I do have a slight medical excuse for that: I’ve been partly paralyzed in my right leg and arm since a spinal cord inflammation in 1999, and have to use a heavy, motor-assisted tricycle because I can’t balance. Even so, I can only really manage about 15 km/hour.
So I clanked along steadily, and by 11:15 a.m., we had covered about 45 km. This is when the battery indicator started flashing red.
This is a very bad sign. It’s like the moment at which both engines of a two-engine jet plane stop. If you’re not safely on the ground and near the duty-free shop when that happens, you’re in trouble.
Sure enough, at 49 km, the batteries gave out altogether and I sputtered to a complete halt.
I shouted a certain word that rhymes with “duck.” We phoned the organizers and told them I had run out of juice, and they contacted the sweep vehicle that picks up stragglers and failures like me. Having put that procedure in train, I then calmly sat down by the side of the road and wept. Then I pulled myself together and tried to think of a plan.
The only option that I could think of involved weeping some more, so I did that. Eventually my eyes and nose ran out of tears and snot respectively, so I composed myself and tried to smile bravely as I was transported to the overnight camp.
That night at the camp was absolutely astounding, as it always is on the ride. The official chief cycling officer of the Princess Margaret Hospital Foundation, the energetic Steve Merker, got everyone — fired up, and he lifted every heart by announcing the amount of money we’d raised.
He then handed it over to the real poster girl of the ride, the extraordinary and wonderful Chinyere Eni. Chinyere is a young woman who had her left leg amputated because of bone cancer when she was eight.
She has been participating in the ride since its inception three years ago, when she arrived at the overnight camp six hours later than everyone else. She really is an inspiring woman and told us she was one of two kids who survived osteosarcoma out of a group of 10, and how much progress has been made since then. What’s more she’s clearly a really great and kind person. And to cap it all, she’s a bank manager.
The oldest Rider that night was Bill Wall, who is 82 and has his own share of serious health problems, including recently becoming blind.
Despite this, he rides the back seat of a tandem bike and clearly greets life with an abundance of grace, courage and wit.
There are a lot of real heroes on the ride: many cancer survivors, several people who came along despite recent injuries and the astonishing Rob Buren who became paraplegic after an accident and uses a tricycle he works with his arms. I shook his hand and believe me, you can feel the power.
The second day of the ride started out grey and drizzly and cold, but by lunch time it warmed up and the sun came out. My tricycle and I were transported to Pit Stop 2 and I cycled the last 44 kh motivated equally by the hope that my batteries had absorbed enough juice from the charger overnight and thoughts of what I would do to them (and myself) if they didn’t. But Evan and I and the batteries all crossed the finish line together.
I had only done 93 km, which was not what I intended. Next year I’m going to do the whole 200 km
Perhaps you’d like to join us in 2011. I’ll be there on my tricycle, so at the very least you’ll have somebody to zoom past.
Dr. Robert Buckman is a medical oncologist at the Princess Margaret Hospital and Campbell Family Institute for Cancer Research and a professor at the University of Toronto.