226 Days (And I Now Have A Bike)

What should I name it?  Or shall it remain nameless?

227 Days (Being Sick Tends to Put a Wrench in Things)

Texas 4000, school, volunteer, plan a wedding, train, work, hulu, sleep. . . this is how my life is prioritized right now.  The act of scheduling activities is a concept that is fairly new to me because, up until now, I have never had many activities to schedule.  While I see people around me who are able to successfully juggle multiple commitments, I feel like I am failing to give each activity the attention that it is due.  Between eighteen hours of classes, twelve hours of work, getting fit for the ride, and volunteering each week, I neglected to give myself any time to be sick.  Here I am, in the middle of my busiest day of the week, and can't stop coughing or sneezing.  I couldn't go to the optional workout this morning because I was still groggy from the nyquil, and I can't work tonight because I might get others sick as well.  It would have been nice to make some decent happy-hour tips at The Cactus, but I could look at it "glass half-full" and say that this gives me more time to study for my exam tomorrow morning.

My moment of sunshine comes when I think about the enormous amount of social and financial support I have received from friends and family while fundraising for the ride.  I am so happy to report that I am well over the minimum amount that we are required to raise and, as of five minutes ago, y'all have generously contributed $5,027.75 in the fight against cancer!  I decided to raise my goal from $6,000 to $8,000, and will continue to write letters and panhandle until all resources have been exhausted (which means that I will be raising until we hop on our bikes next June.)

Texas 4000, as you can see, is what I consider to be one of the highest priority items in my life right now.  Today I am sick, but tomorrow I get to go to Jack and Adam's to pick up my bike.  I am going to get well, jump on that bike, and ride to Alaska.

233 Days (Or How Funny I Look When I'm Trying Not To Cry)

241 Days (Or How Great It Feels To Have Good News)

If you read my last blog post then you are probably aware of how disheartening of an experience I had getting my first physical exam last Tuesday.  If you carefully read the sentence that I just wrote, you'll notice that I used the word "first" to describe the experience.  I am happy to report to you, my dear reader, that my unhappiness with Dr. List's recommendation did not sour the whole week.

We have been recruiting for the 2014 team over the past month and, with applications due this past Friday, we had one last big push to get applications in last week.  I was scheduled to table in front of the gym on campus with Gilpreet, my dear friend and teammate, and she encouraged me to make an appointment at a clinic by campus.  When I realized that I had left my cell phone at home, she generously offered to let me use hers to call and schedule the physical.  After making the appointment, Gil and I walked together to the library so that I could print off the medical history form that needed the doctor's signature and was to be due October 1.  When I searched through my bag and couldn't find my printer card, Gil loaned me hers.  Not only did I leave the insignificant printer card and my cell at home, but I also left my incredibly important ID, cash, and debit cards at home as well.  Hope was not lost, though, because I had tips at The Cactus from my shift the night before.  Gil generously offered to loan me $20 to add to my tips so that I could afford the physical.  I went to the office, and was out in 15 minutes!  I know that this will probably be the last time I compare anything related to Texas 4000 to a "spa," but it really was the most pleasant experience I have ever had in a doctor's office in my life. . . even better than when I used to get lollipops for being a good patient.

I have my suspicions that training is going to kick into high gear this week (read: bikes), so let the spa times end and life begin.  Life isn't a spa, and training for the next 241 days will be a piece of cake compared to the 70 days that will follow.

248 Days (Or How Out-Of-Shape I Really Am, And The Implications Thereof)

One of the things that Texas 4000 is really good at is getting us in shape.  Unfortunately for me, we've really taken off running for this whole "fitness" thing.

Three weeks ago we had a fitness 5K test to assess where we are currently and how far we have to go to get ready for our long bike ride.  I ran a twelve minute mile, barely made it to the end, and almost passed out because I didn't actually do the whole "training" thing for the run.  Still, I was proud that I made it and I'm aware of how far I have to go and how hard I'll have to train before June 1.

Before we are allowed to hop on a bike and train for real with the team we have to have a doctor give us a physical and sign us off on it.  I filled out the pre-visit questionnaire honestly; I told them about how winded I get when I exercise, how my grandfather has had at least one heart attack, and about that time in middle school when I thought it would be fun to "do yoga" in the mud and ended up popping my knee out of place.  I wasn't worried about the physical, because I'm a fit person.  I walk to and from class, I was able to conquer biking up the big hill near my house (with struggles, but still), and I was actually able to finish the fitness 5K.

The doctor, however, did not see things that way.  He saw my family history of heart attacks and gave me an EKG, he read that I get winded while exercising and ordered a Pulmonary Functions Test with fitness challenge to see if I have "exercise induced asthma," and he saw that I popped my knee out of place and ordered that I do some strengthening exercises.  He told me that he wouldn't feel comfortable approving me for Texas 4000 because the fitness level is "high school/college level" and I'm "in Pre-K."  He said that "it would be like trying to climb Mt. Everest without being able to climb the hill in the backyard."  Well I've climbed that hill, and I'm going to train for Everest.  It's not going to be easy, but I always knew that Texas 4000 would be hard.  It is going to take dedication and training, and I am eager and willing to put forth that effort.  I am working on scheduling my PFT, I will begin with my knee exercises tonight, and I'm going to leave for Alaska in 248 days.

261 Days (Or The Prevalence Of Cancer)

I wish that life was always happy and, by extension, I would never tear up when writing a blog post.  Unfortunately it has been one of those weeks where sadness crept in, and I have felt helpless to do anything about it.  Being a part of Texas 4000 has made me more aware of the prevalence that cancer has on, not just the macro level, but how my friends, family, and everybody that I meet tells me a story about a friend or a loved one who has battled or is currently battling cancer.

We are currently recruiting for the 2014 ride year, and so I spend a lot of time in my jersey talking to students about the ride and encouraging them to apply.  When I was walking out of a cafe after having coffee with a friend somebody commented "nice shirt!"  After giving him a polite "thank you" and turning to walk away, he began to tell me about his Dad who passed away a while ago from lung cancer and how grateful he is that students are willing to bike for 70 days to raise money for cancer research.  I noticed a pack of nicorette gum next to him on the table, and he told me that he is only just now quitting.

A little over two weeks ago I saw a Facebook status update on a friend's wall telling us (all 759 of her friends) that her mom was recently moved into hospice care.  This broke my heart because I remembered how hopeless I felt when David was in hospice, because it means the end.  It means that there is nothing else you can do to fight.  After reading through her old updates, I learned that her mom was diagnosed with colon cancer two years ago and has been battling it all this time.  It pained me that somebody my age was losing a mother, and I was also distraught to realize that I was blind to her pain until it was almost too late.  I messaged Darienne and told her about Texas 4000, asked if I could dedicate my summer to her Mom, and I received a response yesterday that made me cry.

"I would be absolutely honored if you rode in my Mom's memory (if you didn't see the status, she passed early Monday morning). Her name was Merrell Charlton Nicholas. Keep me updated on your ride and let me know when I can start signal boosting your fundraising in her name. 

Thank you so much, Hilary. Really."

I absolutely dedicate my ride to Merrell Charlton Nicholas.  I dedicate my ride to David Leslie Newman, James' dad, and I dedicate the summer to my grandmothers on both sides.  I dedicate my ride to Deborah Globe, Ken and Nona Maultsby, Lucila Patton, Oliver Claassen, Edith Jacobs, and Frances Allen.  I dedicate the ride to Kim Loftin, Barbara English, Patti Batis, and Mike McJilton.  I dedicate my ride to grandmothers, grandfathers, moms, dads, and children who all passed away after battling cancer.  I hope that we are able to find a cure for cancer tomorrow, because I am heartbroken by how prevalent it is today.

267 Days (Or How I Plan To Contribute to my Fundraising)

I still love deadlines.  The first fundraising deadline was this past Monday, and I am so grateful and happy to say that it has been far surpassed.  As of 7:00PM on September 3, 2012, $2,905 has been donated to cancer research in support of my personal Texas 4000 requirement and goal.  Thank you so much to my friends, family, and loved ones for helping make this goal attainable, and I am pleased to say that the second and third deadlines have been surpassed as well!  As much as I love having incentives to fundraise, it could be tempting to just stop the hard work once the pressure is off.  I will not do this.  

One of the ways Texas 4000 encourages us to raise money is by panhandling on the busiest street corners in Austin.  The idea is simple: panhandling on a regular basis gets the message out to the community and shows how devoted you are to funding cancer research.  I have never been super comfortable with this method, because my parents taught me that it was always more fulfilling to work for your goals than to just have them handed to you.  Arguments could be made saying that panhandling is more work than simply sending out letters to my loved ones . . . I mean, come on, it’s Austin in the summer.  But I see my parent’s point.  In high school my sisters and I were encouraged to babysit more if we wanted to go on church retreats or mission trips.  The biblical term they used was “tentmaking.”  Regardless of anybody’s religion, this method is a good one.  We shouldn’t do something only because our parents want us to do it, we should help make it happen.  I want to help make this happen, which is why I have decided to donate my tips at least once a week for the next four months to my fundraising.  The way I calculate it, I will raise at least $800 to donate to MD Anderson, the UT Biomedical Engineering Department, and Cancer Survivorship programs at LIVESTRONG that I would normally use to buy “fun” stuff like meals away from home and that new pair of sandals I’ve wanted.  You know what else is fun?  Bringing hope, knowledge, and charity from Austin to Alaska and beyond.