August, 2007

Dear Friends, Family, and Colleagues

Welcome to my 2007 Pan Mass Challenge (PMC) retrospective. I enjoy writing this because when I am asked “how was your ride” after the PMC, the stock responses “it was great” or “it was awesome” feel incomplete to me. In combining a recap of the event with pictures and personal reflections, I hope to convey the true flavor of my PMC experience. Read as much or as little as you like, but most of all, enjoy!

Shameless Plug Dept

Please remember that my final fundraising is due by October 1^st. If you have not yet sponsored me and would like to do so, please contact me via email or visit my PMC profile page at http://www.pmc.org/mypmc/profiles.asp?eGiftID=JZ0013. If you have sponsored me, then once again, I thank you. You have done something wonderful.

There is nothing quite as special as the first time you do something. The law of diminishing returns states that the initial thrill and novelty of doing anything for the first time eventually wanes after you’ve done it repeatedly. Not that it isn’t still great the more you do it! It’s just never the same as the first time. Like attending your first big league ballgame (NY Mets vs. Chicago Cubs, July 8, 1969) and laying eyes on the greenest grass you’ve ever seen. Attending a ballgame never gets old. But it’s definitely not the same as it was the first or second time. Yet for me, the PMC just keeps getting better. Why is that?

It could be any number of reasons, but I think it’s like snowflakes. No two PMCs are alike. Each year has its own set of signature characteristics, personalities, and stories that play out over the course of the weekend and print themselves indelibly on my memory and perhaps more importantly, on my soul.

In any case, this year’s ride was full of “first times” for me and I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I will enjoy sharing them with you!

Friday Evening – Sturbridge

Speaking of “first times,” this was the first time I stayed in Sturbridge the night before the ride. Friday afternoon was hot and humid as my friends Joel Loitherstein, Larry Rosen, and Glen Glater and I loaded up Rhonda’s minivan with four bikes and luggage for the trip out to Sturbridge. Some of you may remember Joel from last year’s retrospective. For Larry and Glen, this was their first PMC.

Larry is a friend of mine from Temple Shir Tikva and was a generous sponsor the first two years I did the PMC. His wife Jill is a cancer survivor and her name is on the back of my Chai jersey. Larry and I have mountain biked together and also ridden the roads a bunch over the past few years as I would train for the PMC while he trained for MS rides. This year, he decided to do the PMC, which was pretty exciting for me.

We’re Baaack! – 5:00 PM Friday at the Super 8 in Sturbridge with (L-R) Joel, Glen, and Larry

Glen, who is an ex-coworker and an overall “mentsch” (he sponsored my first two PMCs and also helped me raise additional money through some 3^rd party connections) would be the first to tell you he had a fairly serious weight problem as recently as early 2006, and as far as I knew, he did not have much history as a cyclist. Then one day he caught me by surprise with an email declaring that he was considering riding the PMC in honor of his mom, who is fighting cancer. Little did I know when he sent that email that he had already begun losing weight and had had bought himself a bike, complete with handlebars suited for his achy shoulders. When we finally got together for lunch to talk about the PMC, he had lost a significant amount of weight. Glen’s succinct take on this cracked me up: “I’m half the man I used to be!” For me, Glen’s story as a first-year rider is as inspiring as any I’ve heard. Glen has told people that I inspired him to ride in the PMC. But his dedication and resolve to do this ride and to make a difference is an awesome tribute not only to his mom, but to the quality of his own life. Sorry Glen, I’m not the inspiration, you are.

Thanks to Joel snaring a couple of last minute rooms, the four of us stayed at the Super 8 Motel, right next door to the Sturbridge Host Hotel where the ride begins. Actually for a motel, it wasn’t bad, with a nice vaulted ceiling and a comfortable bed. I roomed with Joel while Larry and Glen shared the room next door. After dinner over at the Host, Joel headed back while the other three of us decided to brave the heat and watch the opening ceremonies. As it turned out, there were not enough seats, so we ended up standing for much of it, but we didn’t really care. Eventually however, even the strongest stalks wilt, and we were no different. We were ready to crash. Compared to the ballroom, the air felt nice and cool as we stepped outside. I was really looking forward to Saturday.

The Team Concept

Another significant “first time” for me this year was that I joined a team. Our team is called The Stem Cell Cyclists. Alan Cantor, who I’d met and rode with during my first PMC, asked me to join prior to a Sunday morning training ride this summer. Teams are a ubiquitous and important part of the PMC, yet I wasn’t sure I was ready to join one, particularly since I only knew two members – Alan and his wife Nancy. But I was admittedly curious.

2007 Stem Cell Cyclists at the flagpole – Railroad and Bourne Bridges in the background

Those of you who have been following my PMC sojourn for the past three years may recall that the guy who inspired me to finally sign up for the PMC was a friend from my temple named Dick Zisson. Dick was a larger-than-life attorney who came down with a rare form of leukemia. When conventional treatments didn’t get the job done, Dick decided to go for what he liked to call “The Silver Bullet.” Dick’s Silver Bullet was in fact a stem cell transplant in which stem cells from a human umbilical cord were introduced to his system via a bone marrow transfusion. The idea would be for the stem cells to develop into a brand new immune system for Dick. But this was a new procedure and at the time, Dick was the oldest known recipient to have received it. He knew it was risky, but he felt that this would finally do the trick and he also liked the idea of being a trendsetter! He was optimistic and ever-positive. The process itself was long and arduous and involved first the destruction of his existing immune system, then the transplant itself. He spent about 8 weeks in the hospital as I recall.

Initially, everything was fine. I ran into him in the spring at a Saturday morning Torah study and he was beaming. We later exchanged emails and since Dick had a place in Brewster, we vowed to try again to meet at the Brewster Market during the PMC. Unfortunately we missed one another again the Sunday morning of the PMC --- by about a minute and a half, as Dick later told me. We were both disappointed (it was the second straight time we’d missed connecting during the ride) but vowed we’d give it another shot in ’07. Then I didn’t hear from him for a while. When the High Holidays rolled around, I walked into the sanctuary expecting to find Dick in his usual seat in the choir. He wasn’t there.

Dick passed away on September 26^th, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. As it turned out, Dick had developed a condition known as GVHD, or Graft Versus Host Disease. GVHD happens after a stem cell transplant when the body’s new immune system rejects the “host,” or the recipient of the transplant. Apparently, GVHD is fairly common, particularly with older recipients.

So I asked Alan to tell me about the team. He told me that all of the team’s fundraising was to be earmarked to research being conducted by a young doctor named Corey Cutler. “Really, what’s he researching?” “Something called GVHD. I’ll send you a paper about it.” “You don’t have to” I told Alan. “Count me in.”

Note: If you would like to read more about Dr. Cutler’s work, please go to this URL or if you are reading this on-line, just click on this link:

http://mysite.verizon.net/jzarkower/DrCorey.htm

Perhaps the most significant member of our team is our Pedal Partner, Declan Rourke. Pedal Partners is a program that the PMC began in order to pair cancer patients at the Jimmy Fund Clinic at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute with PMC teams. The Pedal Partner and his/her family benefits from the support of the team, and the team benefits from knowing that their efforts are tied to a young person with cancer. The Pedal Partner program has been and continues to be a highly successful part of the PMC, with many Pedal Partners establishing real and long-term friendships with the members of their team. There are PMC-sponsored Pedal Partner parties where teams get together with their Pedal Partners, and there is a special meeting place at the Dighton-Rehoboth water stop for teams to connect with their Pedal Partners on Saturday during the PMC.

Our awesome Pedal Partner - Hey Declan, nice jersey!

Declan is the nephew of Alan’s daughter and son-in-law. He is all of two years old, with a sweet smile and, I’m told (I haven’t met him yet), a sweet disposition. He also has a rare form of brain cancer, which is not so sweet. You know, I have never lacked for motivation during this ride. There are thirty-four names on my back and one on my front in whose honor I ride and as I’ve said, their spirits provide me with plenty of push. But courageous kids like Declan (and his equally courageous parents, Mel and Tym) only make you stronger and more committed.

All in all, there were thirteen riders on the Stem Cell Cyclists. Over the course of the summer, I got to know and ride with most of my teammates, and I have to say that they are all terrific people. It was a real privilege to be a part of this special group.

Saturday Morning – Sturbridge

We woke up pretty early. Actually, it was 3:45 in the morning, and believe me, it wasn’t by design. And it wasn’t because I had to pee in the middle of the night. Enthusiastic – and loud – female voices outside our door. Maybe they’ll go away. They’ve probably been out all night drinking and are now back, showing complete disregard for the fact that we have to pedal 110 miles beginning in a little more than two hours. But they didn’t go away, in fact they got louder. So I finally jumped up and headed outside with the intention of inflicting some major verbal damage. But as soon as I saw them I could only manage a smile. Cheerleaders. Each year, just as we start out and make our first left-hand turn onto Route 20, there is this team of cheerleaders from Narragansett, Rhode Island who do their thing as we depart. They are part of the fabric of this event. There was no way I could say anything but “Hi girls, so are you all set to cheer us on?” They looked at me kind of funny. Must have been the boxer shorts. Oh, did we wake you up? Well, kinda. Oh, we’re reeeaaaaally sorry. We were just practicing our routine, we’ll keep it down. OK thanks, that’d be great. I just turned around, walked back inside, and went back to sleep.

Yup, this is them. Note the Red Bull. At the start just before 6:00 AM Saturday

Other than my, ahem, cheerful interaction, Saturday morning was pretty typical for PMC weekend – wake up (again), dress quickly, apply sun block, walk bike next door to find a spot for it at the starting area, drop off luggage at the truck, eat breakfast, use the facilities, fill water bottles at the last possible minute, pick through thousands of bikes until finding mine, then wait for it all to start.

I was feeling pretty happy as I waited. I was with my friends. Right in front of us were Jon and Steve Siegel, my two homeboys from Norwalk, CT. To our right were some of the Phat Tuesday guys, whose Tuesday night 25-milers were a semi-constant for me all summer. It just felt really good to be there again in Sturbridge.

Good to Go. Breakfast at the Sturbridge Host Hotel – 5:30 AM Saturday

As we pulled out, I spotted a volunteer who I had met the night before at the opening ceremonies, an older guy who had lost his wife in January of this year. It means so much to meet these people along the way. Yes, they are complete strangers. But there is an incredible bond that we share because of what we have endured and what our loved ones have endured. When I met him, it reminded me so much of my Dad and how much he supports me, and of course my Mom. It was a little rough there for a minute. But it’s moments like these during PMC weekend that give you the strength to crank it up a notch or pedal that one more mile when you’re tired. As I rode past him Saturday morning, I called out. He recognized me and smiling, gave me the thumbs-up. And then I was gone, turning left past the cheerleaders and on my way to Bourne.

Saturday on the Road – Heat and Hydration

We had all heard the forecast and knew it was going to be hot on Saturday. Not long after we left Sturbridge, you could already feel it in the air, and this was at 6:30 in the morning! We knew the key would be hydration, so we took extra care to keep our bottles full as well as our stomachs. Usually, we blow past the first water stop at around 23 miles because most of us ride much farther than during training rides without stopping. Not today. Careful was the word, and it served us well all day.

I rode with Joel, Glen, and Larry, and in general we had a very strong ride, averaging just about 17 MPH. We dawdled some at the water stops, and even more so at the lunch stop, but otherwise made good time. I did experience some minor leg cramps, but they passed quickly when I cranked it down a notch and guzzled water. We ended up finishing at the Mass Maritime Academy (MMA) in Bourne at about 2:30 PM. This was an hour later than I’d finished last year, but it was primarily because of the extra time at the water stops, so I was pretty happy overall.

Most PMCers will tell you that the PMC is not a race, and it’s not. I’m quick to correct well-wishers who say things like “good luck in your race.” I don’t mean to come off as ungracious, but the only real competition in this ride is against cancer. Still, there are natural and fundamental human tendencies that come into play, even in the PMC. First is the innate desire to improve. If I finished at 1:30 PM last year (as I did), then I’d like to finish before 1:30 this year. If I don’t, I don’t. It’s not the end of the world. But I can’t deny that there would be a certain satisfaction in doing so. Second, there are certain perks to finishing earlier: A shorter wait for your massage; the comfort of clean shorts and a fresh t-shirt after a nice hot shower while others are still arriving in their sweaty bike clothes; the bottom bunk, etc. All of these make getting to Bourne earlier worthwhile. And then there are the bragging rights. Cyclists describing how fast they got somewhere are like fishermen describing the size of the fish they caught.

A friend asked me recently why we don’t just ride with a hydration pack (which holds a lot more water) and bypass the water stops to make better time. Actually, I think it’s because the water stops are about more than just refueling. The water stops provide a certain psychological lift as well as a brief rest. There are volunteers, friends, and family cheering as you ride in and as you exit. There is music pumping. There are balloons and people in funny costumes. And it’s also the place to re-connect with friends if any of you have ridden ahead or fallen behind.

Cavorting with the wildlife at the Franklin water stop – 8:00 AM Saturday

Other highlights from Saturday’s ride:

1. Senator John Kerry (who is an avid cyclist and a hardcore PMCer) experiencing a blowout just before the Star Spangled Banner was sung in Sturbridge. When a tire blows the way his did, everyone hears it. And when it happens just minutes prior to the start, you experience two concurrent emotions: a) you’re really glad it isn’t you; and b) you feel really bad for the bloke whose it is. It wasn’t until later that a friend told me whose it was. The real punch line, however, was conveyed to me by the same friend who witnessed it up close. Apparently when the tire blew, the Senator was immediately on his cell phone attempting to get help when the Star Spangled Banner began. I guess he was fairly preoccupied (I must admit, I would be too if something like that happened to me) because he kept talking into his phone oblivious to the fact that our national anthem was being sung by everyone around him. It wasn’t until a camera trained on him while this was all happening that his innate media sense kicked in and he quickly stashed the phone.
2. Repeating last year’s on-road encounter with Red Sox wives Shonda Schilling and Dawn Timlin and engaging in a brief conversation. Mainly, I thanked them for all of the charity work they do and asked them what they thought of the recent acquisition of relief pithcher Eric Gagne (they thought it was great). I really do have to hand it to these two. Both of them work tirelessly and for a variety of causes. These ladies rode in 90 degree heat on Saturday, they rode from Sturbridge – the longest and most difficult route, and they rode both days. And both have ridden multiple years. I tip my well-worn Red Sox cap to both of them, even if they are Republicans ;-)

(L-R) Tiffany Ortiz, Dawn Timlin, Shonda Schilling, Kathryn Nixon wearing PMC jerseys. Not sure who the young man is, but he’s clearly making the most of it!

3. The Lunch Stop at Dighton Rehoboth Regional High School – Lunch is the best place to connect with riders who you know who started in Wellesley rather than Sturbridge. As in previous years, I rendezvoused with my bud Scott Hefter (a.k.a. Hefty) and his crew, now calling themselves “The Needham Eleven.” Considering two years ago it was just Hefty and his friend Steve, seeing all of those red jerseys was mighty impressive!

I also bumped into Alexis Resnick, who was riding in her first PMC at the age of 15! Rhonda and I are good friends with Marc and Maureen Resnick, Lexi’s parents. We stayed at their place in Falmouth last year after the PMC, and they have been strong supporters of my ride since Day 1 through their family friendship with the McGillis family. Jay McGillis, a Boston College football player who developed Leukemia in 1991 when he was just a sophomore and eventually succumbed to the disease, was a good friend of Maureen’s family, and I wear Jay’s name proudly on my Chai jersey. It was awesome seeing Lexi with her friends. Later, just before the Saturday finish in Bourne, I spotted Maureen on the side of the road cheering and holding a sign with my name, Hefty’s, and of course, Lexi’s as well as her teammates. It was really uplifting to see my friends, especially just before the finish. I didn’t stop smiling for a long time after that.

“The Needham Eleven” in Bourne. Hefty is on the far left

The only somewhat disappointing aspect of lunch was not getting to meet our Pedal Partner, Declan. As it turns out though, he wasn’t feeling well, so his parents chose not to bring him out. I really admired their decision. It was incredibly hot out, and the lunch tent is fairly noisy and crowded to begin with. Most of the people there – like me for instance – would have been strangers he was meeting for the first time. To subject a young boy to this sort of environment when he wasn’t’ feeling well would have been wrong, in spite of the good intentions. I’m sure there will be another day.

Sunday Morning - Bourne

Although we’d had a strong ride, Saturday had been a tough day for many people. But Sunday dawned absolutely gorgeous. We woke up at 4:00, got dressed, dropped off our luggage at the trucks, and went off in search of “Bourne Bombs,” the egg and cheese muffins that are a Sunday morning staple at the PMC. I ate quickly, stuffed some additional provisions in my jersey pockets, poured myself a coffee and walked down to the flagpole to watch the amazing sunrise.

During my first PMC, I was by myself on Sunday morning and accidentally discovered this really nice spot down by the water where you can watch the sun rise over the two bridges in the distance, the Railroad Bridge and the Bourne Bridge. Even with the early morning chaos of breakfast in the massive tent just yards away, this was a quiet spot and the impossibly beautiful sunrise added a strong sense of spirituality and connection to the people I ride for. I asked someone to photograph me wearing my Chai jersey, and it produced a couple of really nice photos that I still keep on my profile page at the pmc.org web site.

Last year, I repeated the visit, said a couple of simple prayers, and let my Mom know that I was doing well and riding for her again. I enjoyed that part of the weekend so much that I decided to make it a permanent tradition.

August 5, 2007, just before the sunrise

The plan for our Sunday morning departure from MMA was multi-faceted. First, we had to rendezvous with Glen, who had spent the night off-campus. I had no idea where Larry had slept, so his status was uncertain. Joel was riding with the Phat Tuesday crew. The Stem Cell Cyclists had decided to depart as a team at 5:15 AM but not before an informal team photo at the flag pole. With all of the logistics, I’m happy to report that everyone was present and accounted for and almost right on schedule! The exception was Larry, who had been inadvertently locked out of his room and so was running late. But he called and told me that he was not going to rush. He would eat – not wolf down - breakfast and ride his own pace on Sunday. I admired his independence and his common sense. I soon found Glen, Alan, and the rest of my team near the bike field, and at roughly 5:25 AM, we left MMA as a team.

Glen, Alan, and I pushed ahead and we soon found ourselves crossing the Bourne Bridge and onto Cape Cod. When we hit the bike path that runs along the Cape Cod Canal, we hooked on with a large paceline, which is a line of cyclists that creates significantly less wind resistance for each rider in the line. Finding a good one is like having someone give you a solid push, and you ride much faster with a lot less effort – a beautiful thing! We cooked along in the paceline for a while, then turned away from the Canal and up into Sandwich.

I knew this day was going to be a special ride as soon as I hit the first major hill in Sandwich, a fairly steep incline that leads to a series of hills known as “The Rollers,” I suppose because they are shaped sort of like this:

If you can gain enough speed on the downhill sides, it is possible to ride up the subsequent inclines without losing your momentum. “The Rollers” is one of the most fun segments of the entire two days. The best way to ride them is as fast as you can.

But first you have to get up that first hill. My memory of it from last year involves a group of riders from the Boston Bruins team (Hockey players. Strong legs) blowing past me as I attempted to maintain my 7 MPH pace. This year as we approached it, I commented to a woman who was riding next to me that I hated this hill. “Kills me” I said, just before we turned left into the ascent. But then as I began to climb, I realized that I felt great! Maybe from riding more hills this year, like that summit of Mt. Wachusett in the rain the week before. Whatever, I held a solid 11-12 MPH to the crest (are we already to the top?) and whooped loudly. Turning back to see where Glen and Alan were, I didn’t see them. Oh well, I’ll see them at the water stop. I took off through The Rollers, and noticing that I was doing about 22 MPH up one hill, I whooped again. I felt incredible.

Another part of what makes the PMC special for me is the feeling of accomplishment. It makes you start to believe that anything is possible. Who ever imagined I could ride a bike this far? Or be a successful fundraiser? Who ever thought that people would spend hours standing on the side of the road cheering for a bunch of otherwise average people as if they were conquering heroes? Not me. It’s an indescribable feeling when you’re in the middle of it. Why not? If I can do this ride and raise this money as part of a larger effort, then maybe we really can kick cancer’s butt! Think I’ll just let out another whoop for good measure!

Brewster

Along with Wrentham (home of Cherry St.), Brewster, MA is always one of the best towns along the PMC route. First, it is quaint and scenic, still largely unspoiled. Second, it is where “Da’ Hedge” is. “Da’ Hedge” is actually a hedge that borders Route 6A at the Cape Cod Sea Camp in Brewster. During the PMC, all of the campers come down to cheer on the riders as we go past. All I can say about Da’ Hedge is that it’s as close to Beatlemania as I’ll probably ever experience. One of these years, I’ll have to devote more space to it in this retrospective. Third, Brewster has Nickerson State Park, always one of the best and liveliest water stops. All of these make Brewster an amazing experience as a PMC rider.

After re-connecting with Alan and Glen at the Barnstable water stop, we were making really good time as we hit Brewster. Maybe it’s because the weather was so outstanding, but there just seemed to be more people out this year than in previous years, including one woman who screamed out as we passed: “I love you Lance Armstrong, I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth!” Because we were riding in a larger group at the time, no one was really sure who she was talking to, but it was clear to everyone there that she was off her rocker. Without missing a beat, Alan turned to a rider just behind us – a guy we didn’t even know – and said “I think she was talking to you.” Everyone just cracked up. Guess you had to be there!

As we approached the Brewster Market, my thoughts of course turned to Dick. With the large crowd cheering, I got up off my saddle and put on a burst of speed as I passed the store where we had always intended to meet. I felt Dick’s spirit big-time as I went by and my eyes welled up. It was a pretty emotional moment. I suppose for me, that will always be Brewster, and it will always motivate me.

Soon, we pulled into the water stop at Nickerson. When we got there, I found a spot to rest my bike, then turned around and spotted Tim Brightman, one of the Phat Tuesday guys. I asked Tim if he’d seen Joel and he had. “He’s right over there” said Tim, pointing. “We’re getting ready to head out.” I then made a snap decision to head out as well, in spite of the allure of refreshments, music, and rest. So I told Alan and Glen that I was going to keep going and clipped back into my pedals. In all, I had spent less than two minutes at Nickerson.

As we pulled out, I asked Joel how he was doing, and he told me he was a bit dehydrated and struggling to keep pace, so we decided just to lay back and not push it so hard. Ironic, since I was feeling pretty exhilarated from the whole Brewster thing and in the mood to let it rip. But Joel’s safety and well-being were a lot more important than my ongoing quest for adrenaline so I was content to take it down a notch.

Provincetown

At the next water stop in Wellfleet, Joel spent a few extra moments resting and refueling, which was a smart thing to do given that we still had a series of tough climbs through Truro plus the dunes in Provincetown. Whatever he did, it worked pretty well, because neither those hills nor the stiff headwinds along Rte 6 slowed us down much.

Almost There! Joel feeling much better as we chug through Orleans (L), and eventually hit P-Town (R)

As we approached the finish line, Joel produced a pair of those little “nip” bottles of Chivas Regal, like the ones they pass out on airplanes. Why Chivas Regal? I have absolutely no idea other than that’s what he had! I would have preferred a Mojito, or some Tour De France-style champagne! Taking that thought a step farther; imagine you have just ridden a bicycle 192 miles through August heat and hills. You have consumed primarily water, electrolytes, protein, and a lot of carbs. If I could think of one thing my body would not crave at this point, it quite possibly would be scotch. Never-the-less, I cracked open the bottle, we clanked them together and each took a swig. My body’s first reaction reminded me of Frances McDormand’s character as she examines a dead body in the movie “Fargo” – “Uh-oh, I think I’m gonna barf.” Thankfully, I didn’t. Instead, I regrouped and savored the moment with my friend. But next year, I’m packing the libations!

Riding through a cheering tunnel of volunteers, family, and other well-wishers, we hit the line at around 11:00, which is by far the earliest I had finished in my three years of doing the PMC. What a feeling! I think that the shorter stops, the non-stop in Brewster, and the fact that this was the first PMC in which I did not sustain a flat tire all contributed to my earlier arrival. No matter. I had plenty of time to shower, grab a quick massage (not quite the production that they put on in Bourne, but just as satisfying) and still make it into the tent for the first round of Hefeweizens. Now that’s what I call a perk!

The Ferry

At the conclusion of last year’s ride, Rhonda and Samantha came out to Provincetown and met me at the Family Finish. That was cool. This year was to be a ferry year. That was also cool.

The ferry carrying PMCers from Provincetown to Boston on Sunday afternoon is, to put it bluntly, a party boat. I’m still pretty new to this event, but I do know that the ferry has been the scene of a lot of outrageous (but clean I’m told) post-PMC behavior over the years! To wit, there is actually a ban on bringing water pistols onto the ferry. There is also, however, a cash bar, and a cover band cranking out rock and roll tunes above deck where somehow, scores of people who have just pedaled close to 200 miles find the energy to dance and party as if they had all taken long afternoon naps followed by shots of espresso! Below deck, the scene is a bit more, shall we say, subdued. Some riders catch well-deserved Z’s. Some play cards. Others just relax in conversation. You get the picture. Night and day occurring simultaneously on Massachusetts Bay!

After my first PMC, I was pretty exhausted and chose to hang with the below-deck crowd. Actually, in retrospect, I’m glad I did, since I met some pretty awesome people on that ferry ride. And stayed out of trouble! This year, however, I was still on an emotional high and had plenty of gas in my tank when we boarded in P-Town. I decided I wanted to dance. So dance I did!

Cavorting with the wildlife on the PMC Ferry. The guy with the sunglasses in the upper right corner of the right-hand picture is my friend and Norwalk, CT homey Steve Siegel

Cancer is such a sobering reality it’s sometimes easy to forget that the PMC is as much a celebration of life as it is about a deadly and often painful disease. For many of us, the reason we ride in the PMC is simply because we can, and that’s something that should never be taken for granted. It occurs to me that the dancing and partying on the ferry is a natural extension of this desire to live life to its fullest while we have the chance, while we have the strength, and while we have our wits about us. I know that my mother, if she were alive, would not only want to participate in the PMC (she wasn’t much for riding bikes, but I could definitely see her volunteering as a massage therapist in Bourne or in one of the medical tents), she would be the first one on the ferry to hit the dance floor with a vodka tonic in hand! Such was her spirit. But it’s equally likely that she would be playing Bridge below-deck and imparting her opinion on everything from the state of presidential politics, to the state of Connecticut! Whichever activity she chose, she would most enjoy just being with her friends. So I guess the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree after all. Thanks Ma!

We arrived at the docks accompanied by a Boston fireboat and the band’s terrific rendition of the Standell’s classic “Dirty Water,” the Boston-themed anthem that has become a staple at Red Sox games as well as many other Boston celebrations. For the final time over the weekend, we were greeted as if we, and not our beloved 2004 Sox, had won the World Series. There were hundreds of people on shore clapping, dancing, cheering, and crying, and the ferry was listing visibly to the port side with the huge throng of people on board wanting to see – and be consumed by – the outpouring of love from their families and friends who lined the dock. It was really a sight.

Unforgettable scenes from the ferry as we approached the end of our journey

Soon we had gathered our bags and boarded the bus that would take us to Wellesley and our rides home. For the first time I could remember that day, I was content to just sit quietly and reflect on the amazing weekend. I smiled and closed my eyes.

Final Thoughts

I’ve been writing for a while now, and if you’ve come this far through my ramblings, I appreciate it. As I’ve said, the buzz from the PMC stays with me for a long time. Even as I write this, there are times when the memory of what I’m writing about stirs my emotions. I am truly blessed to be able to ride in the PMC. People seem impressed at the distance we ride, but to be honest, it’s not that difficult compared to what cancer patients must endure. The rider’s pain is – after all – temporary.

Finally, I would like to send a sincere “thank you” to my wife Rhonda, who is often left “carrying the ball” in the summertime while I am out on training rides, sending emails, record keeping, and whatever it is I do so that I can do the PMC. Without her full support and participation, I would not be able to do this.

See you on the road!

Much Love,

Jonathan L. Zarkower

August, 2007