It's Not About the Back

A Bad Day to be a Pig

2012-01-04T22:29:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year Everyone!

By everyone, I mean all you friends and acquaintances that are receiving this blog posting. So let's get right to it, my holidays were, like pretty much everyone's, pleasant but over too soon. I got many warm wishes and generous gifts. I want to highlight one gift in particular.

My dear friend Lori gave me a rather unique and unexpected gift. She enrolled me in the Bacon of the Month Club! Once a month for the next three months I will receive 1 pound of the world's best bacon. The first pound arrived a couple days ago and I must say, if you're a vegetarian - this might just get you to switch. Man oh man, is it tasty.

But why am I talking about bacon when what this blog is really about is bike riding and fundraising to fight blood cancers. Okay, I'm getting to that. The bacon, like most good bacons, got me to thinking. In my last message about a month ago, I mentioned that we would do something special around Pork-a-Palooza for people who donated to support my fundraising efforts. It was kind of vague, and frankly, not my best prose.

So let's reset.

I am fundraising again to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma - two diseases that have killed people that I cared about. The bottom line is, these diseases are horrible and they won't go away without research. I do not want to see anyone else I love have to fight these diseases. I am riding my bike for Team in Training in the miserable cold of winter to raise awareness and I raise money. If you want to support me, then go to this link

As always, I like to put a little extra incentive into the fundraising. So here it is. I'm combining a cause I care about with an event that is actually quite fun. For the past two years, The Lad and I have hosted the gastronomic extravaganza known as Pork-a-Palooza. The first year, we made a modest effort and about 20 people joined us. The second year we kicked it up a notch and we had about 40 guests and smoked about 40 pounds of meat. This year, it's katie-bar-the-door. By that I mean, we're pulling out the stops and kicking out the jambs. This promises to be the best Pork-a-Palooza ever - and frankly, it will be a bad day to be a pig. We are finding new recipes for smoked meat delight that will raise the bar for Pork-a-Palooza to stratospheric levels. "But what does this have to do with fundraising?", you ask.

Well I'll tell you; for every donation over $50, you will get a custom Pork-a-Palooza article of clothing. Something you can wear, obviously. These items will only be provided to donors that give over $50. In addition, and this should go without saying, you will receive your awards at Pork-a-Palooza. Well that's a pretty good deal. And to remind you, Pork-a-Palooza is scheduled for June 28th. That's a Sunday afternoon, so any of my bike riding friends that say "I have a big ride" - you should plan to ride on Saturday.

But here's the catch. There's always a catch. To qualify for the Pork-a-Palooza apparel, you have to make your donation by February 14th. Why February 14th? Because what better gift of love can you give on Valentine's day than the gift of life by supporting the fight against Leukemia and Lymphoma. (pretty good, eh?)

Join me in the fight against blood cancers. It's a New Year and it's time to renew the fight and maybe this will be the year of the breakthrough.

Thank you. Stay tuned for more updates, but remember please if you want to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, please donate here.

And if you want to follow my adventures, then check out my blog - here.

Steve

It's time to start...again

2011-12-03T15:17:00.001-08:00

Wow, that's been a long time. My updates for the past 18 months have pretty much centered on one topic, and I think it's time to change topics. Let's dust the cobwebs off this blog and get back to addressing the issues at hand. Namely, let's talk about bike riding adventures and leading the fight against blood cancers.

So before I get back into bike riding tales, let me tell you about the immediate priority, that is I'm once again taking up the fight against blood cancers. I've know too many people who've battled leukemia and lymphoma and frankly, I'm fed up. It's a cruel twist of the human condition that some unlucky folks are stricken with these tragic diseases. Well, I'm taking up the fight by fundraising again. And as always, I'm asking you to help.

In the past, when I've asked for your donations, I've offered various incentives - such as riding a mile for every dollar raised or putting your name on my bike or clothing. Parenthetically, I still have the bike shorts with Natalie's name on them. Anyway, this time is no exception.

First, I want you to look at your calendar and mark the Sunday after Father's day. Specifically, Sunday June 24th, 2012. That is the date of Pork-a-Palooza III. At Pork-a-Palooza II we smoked over 40 pounds of meat and we entertained dozens of guest. It is the event to start the summer season. The lad and I have hosted this event for two years in a row and next year promises to be even better.

So why am I talking about this, well I'll tell you. This year, to get a priority invitation to Pork-a-Palooza I'm asking that you sponsor me. That is, for every $50 donation you get to be on the Donor Guest list for the porcine event of the year. Very similar to the donor program that they run at Cal for preferred seating, you get preferred treatment at Pork-a-Palooza.

So here's the offer, sponsor me as I am fundraising again for Team in Training, and oh, by the way, I'm going to be riding through the dead of winter to train for the Solvang Century at the beginning of March. For your sponsorship, you get to be a preferred Donor Guest at Pork-a-Palooza III.

Sponsorship is simple - go to http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/solvang12/sasche

Thanks again and let's get started.

Black and Tan

2011-04-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

The Black and Tan promptly arrived at the table along with the chocolate milkshake that Rob ordered. We've been to Fenton's many times over the years and while I've enjoyed their Banana Specials and Saddleback Brownie sundaes, for me, the Black and Tan was always the best. I looked at the sundae and remembered.

Rob and I had made it a regular routine to have dinner once a week. Usually we were at the Hopyard for Pint Night, but not this night. I had suggested we go to Fenton's when I got home from work. I didn't have to explain it or convince him; he knew why I had chosen this place. As soon as we arrived, the memories of countless visits started coming to mind. I introduced Sherri to Fenton's before we were married, 30 years ago. Rob mentioned that his first memory of Fenton's was his third birthday party and he remembered the train cake that mom had made for him. I remembered how Sherri would always order a sidecar of hot fudge with her sundae because she couldn't get enough chocolate. We remembered how Sherri would eat ice cream; her dish was always clean because she would treasure each spoonful. That's why we were there, to remember.

The interesting thing about memories is that you can't control what brings them on. It can be a song, a smell, a picture, a dessert, a comment, or any other random prompt. We chose Fenton's because we knew it would prompt good memories, warm memories, and that's what we wanted. Rob and I talked about the usual current happenings in our lives along with our recollections. I wasn't as talkative this night as I kept more to my thoughts.

I remembered the sound of her voice. I could hear her cheerful tone. I remembered her greeting on her cell phone, "Hi. This is Sherri..pause..um..I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll call you back...pause...bye". You know, I listened to that answering machine message dozens of times over the past year. I would call, listen, hang up, and call again - sometimes 4 or 5 times in a row. Sometimes I'd leave a message, simply saying that I missed her. I remember every inflection of that message but the one that stands out the most was the last word - "bye". It was how she said it that stood out to me. She said it with haste and a downward inflection, as if she didn't like saying goodbye and wasn't really comfortable.

A year ago on Easter, Sherri said to me and Rob, "it was a perfect day". The juxtaposition of that day with the day that followed has been very hard for me to grasp. My friend Scott and I have discussed this and tried to rationalize it. I like his explanation that maybe she had taken us as far as she could and it was someone else's turn. He also said, "think how lucky you were to have that last perfect day. You got to share it with her. In a way, it was like her last gift to you."

As we finished our sundae and milkshake, I thought about that last day. As I paid the bill I remembered a funny incident when I paid the bill for our last breakfast on Easter morning a year ago. I laughed and told Rob the story of how I inadvertently gave our waiter $10 instead of $20 for a $15 bill and suavely told him to keep the change. Sherri and I laughed at my mistake and embarrassment; the waiter was quite understanding. Just another random memory prompted by a familiar experience; I consider myself lucky.

As Rob and I left Fenton's, I thought about how I could remember every moment of that final day Sherri and I were together. For a person that didn't know how to say goodbye, she said goodbye in the best way she could. I love her for that.

One year.
Steve

Christmas Letter 2010

2010-12-22T09:02:00.000-08:00

Well, let me just start by saying the obvious: this was not a good year. Okay, you knew that. I don't want to belabor the tragedy of this year and wear the cloak of grief again. I've worn that enough. I've worn it out. I hate that cloak. A new friend of mine told me that too often we try to rush through grief. I don't think I rushed through anything. My son and I can attest that there have been far too many difficult periods.

Rather, I want to dedicate this Christmas letter to thank the people that reached out and helped Rob and me this year. From the very moment that tragedy struck and Sherri was taken from us, friends, family and long lost acquaintances reached out to help. The outpouring has been and still is astounding.

To my parents, brother and sisters, nephews and nieces. You dropped everything and you came to sit through the vigil as we waited to hear about Sherri. I will never forget the compassion you showed to Rob, Emily and me that day and continue to show.

To my close friends Scott and Thao. You arrived as soon as you heard and you spent many evenings since just being there to listen. You have both shown unending kindness and love to me and my family.

Lori Reisfelt, I am truly lucky to have you as a friend and you've been an empathetic heart that helped me through the really tough times that few can appreciate.

Amy Bode and Jacqui Crist, thank you for mobilizing the Team in Training friends and being a source of sympathetic support.

Dave Holmes-Kinsella, you came to help immediately and you tried diligently to get me back to a new normal. Thanks for reaching out with the dinner invitations and the the bike rides. I will always remember the ride up Tunitas Creek and that moment I realized the significance of that place. You responded with quiet compassion.

To all the friends of Sherri, me and my family. When I saw the SRO crowd at the church at Sherri's service, I was astounded at the faces from many times and places. You honored the memory of Sherri beyond words.

To the friends that took me to lunch and dinner, just to check up on me, like Merla, Barb, Chris, Aaron, Denise, Peggy, it meant a lot then and now.

Tom Cary your empathy and prayers have been a source of peace.

Pastor Mark Wollan, your concern and support were genuine and heartfelt. You went beyond your role as a minister and took a personal interest in supporting our family.

Mike Sale, I appreciate your weekly calls and your continuous efforts to take my money on the golf course.

Molly Sims, Janet Brown and Kimberly Wycoff thank you for the diversions and getting me in touch with new friends and acquaintances.

There are many more to thank and if I didn't name you, please don't feel slighted and I appreciate every act and every kind word.

The person that I owe the most to this year is my son, Robert. At least once a week we'd go out to dinner and we would talk about what our current experiences were. We would share how we were feeling and discuss the week ahead. We'd talk about Sherri. He doesn't realize that I can see her influence in him and it makes me proud of the son we raised.

This year Rob and I rode Foxy's Fall Century bicycle ride. At about mile 95, it struck me what I would miss. In the past when Rob and I would do a long ride like Foxy's, afterward I would tell Sherri how proud I had been watching him overcome the challenge of doing the ride. I would recount how he had no business finishing the ride but his own determination pushed him through. I told Rob this and that what I really missed, at that moment, was that sharing with Sherri. That ability to make new memories and share them, had been taken away. I wiped the tears from my weary eyes and we continued to ride in silence. Without saying a word, I knew he understood our loss and I knew he missed her too.

Despite the one overwhelming event, it was not entirely a bad year. There were many significant achievements too. At work my team received great kudos for pulling off a very successful customer conference. We generated more leads, reached more customers and executed more campaigns than any year prior. My son and I spent several Saturday afternoons cheering for the beloved Cal Bears football team, exhorting them to victory. While I didn't do the Death Ride, I successfully completed Solvang's Finest Century in November and, as I mentioned earlier, Rob and I completed Foxy's Fall Century in October. The highest point of the year was having the honor of being in my friends Scott and Thao's wedding. It was an exceptional moment from some exceptional friends.

The outreach of support also had unexpected benefits. I was able to meet and create new friendships. I also connected with people that I hadn't seen in many years. Like finding a rare treasure, we were able to unwrap our friendships and make up for lost time.

In case you didn't know, Rob is an excellent writer. He's continuing his studies and is trying to get accepted into San Jose State next fall. If you know anyone in the CSU system, maybe you can put us in contact with them. Anyway, one of his works was selected as a finalist for the annual DVC writing awards for fiction. He got a job for the winter as a sound and light technician for the local church. His writing and his job allow him to express his boundless creativity. I've read his assignments and I'm still astounded by his use of metaphors and his ability to write evocatively. He's not limited to writing fiction, he's also written scripts for his friend Thomas's videos that are equally as enjoyable.

As the holidays are here, though I am reminded about the losses, we do survive. We push on and know that there are joys and treasures in places we least expect. At Christmas, in particular, I think about what we have. I have been blessed by a lifetime of memories, the compassion of my friends old and new and the love of my family. And for that, I am grateful.

Merry Christmas
Steve

Hopyard Nights

2010-08-23T00:25:00.000-07:00

I've seen post traumatic stress syndrome. He sits across from me at the Hopyard Ale House in San Ramon at least once a week for the past 4 months. He makes very funny observations and he has very funny tales. I think most of the time he just laughs at my embarrassing behavior as I constantly misunderstand what the server is saying to me. He's engaging and very interesting to be with. But he also doesn't sleep and he has other serious manifestations of stress. I can't imagine the utter shock and convulsive agony it was to find her. I wished so much that it hadn't ever happened and I wish even more it hadn't happened to him.

We talk. We talk about plans. We come up with party ideas. We talk about his friends and his school plans. We talk about girls he likes. We talk about girls he should like. We talk about his writing; he is an excellent writer. We talk about current events and films we've seen.

We talk about Sherri. We work through it, ever slowly. This is something that we both realize needs good third-party advice; and he will get that.

I want to round the mark. In a sailboat race they travel to a predetermined waypoint that designates the farthest part of the course. They then round the mark and head to the finish. It's time for us to start the downhill run. When you see him or talk to him, let him know that you care.

Steve

Stockholm Syndrome

2010-06-06T14:34:00.000-07:00

You know, my last blog post was a very heartfelt, emotional catharsis and I expected my next post to get back to the observational absurdities that typically fill these updates. I'm not quite there yet.
I literally cried every day for 6 weeks after Sherri passed away. Now I cry randomly. They say crying is good for the spirit because it helps you release the emotions They say you feel better. I'm not so sure. I do know that it's not every day, so I guess that's a sign that things are trending in the right direction.
I'm in Stockholm. That's Stockholm, as in capital of Sweden, not Stockton, as in the arm pit of California. Minor apologies to anyone from Stockton. It was sunny today, which is totally appropriate for a Sunday, and every Stockholmeo was outside taking in the sunshine like worms coming out after the rain. I had flown in this morning and after I checked into the hotel, I decided to take a walk around the center of the city. I walked for quite a while and I noticed that the overwhelming majority of groups of people were couples or couples with kids. At times I felt like the only person in Stockholm out by himself. I'd take consolation when I saw the occasional jogger and observe that they're by themselves so I'm not the only one. I walked out to an island, Grundevaldgarten or something like that; there was a bridge; that made it much easier to walk to it. I sat on a bench looking back at the center of the city and I took this picture.

As I sat on the bench, I started looking through the pictures in my iPhone and looked at pictures of Sherri. I came across this picture from a walk that we took on a sunny day in January this year. It was a day when we walked as a couple. Right then I was glad I was sitting at bench at the end of the island because the tears just started streaming down my face and I sure didn't want any well-meaning Stockholmeos trying to figure out what was wrong or reporting me to the police. I just wanted to hold her hand again and share the beauty of the day. I knew it would have made her happy and that would have made me happy.
I re-realized something at that moment. For me, and I'm sure for many of you, it really is about other people. I mean the joy in life comes from the relationships. The more intimate those relationships become the more intense the joy becomes. Of course, there's risk with that. The loss of an intense relationship is much more painful. Some people will not engage in an intense relationship for fear of pain, fear of loss. Some people will withhold themselves out of self-protection. Not me. When that time comes again, when I'm ready to have that intense relationship, I'll throw myself once again into the breach. The joy will always far outweigh the pain.

Thanks for reading,
Steve

And so I write

2010-05-17T23:12:00.000-07:00

They say that life happens while you're making other plans.

In my last update, I wrote about Bob and the letter his wife Leah had written. At the time it broke my heart to read her words about Bob's terminal cancer. I couldn't imagine the pain she was enduring. I still can't imagine her pain but on April 6th I got my own dose of life's fateful twists. I apologize to those of you who are learning about this just now. On April 6th my wife Sherri passed away from a unpredicted brain aneurysm. And just like that, a beautiful life has left us and the world changed. The memorial service was beautiful as it was traumatic. Our children, Emily and Rob, delivered incredibly heartfelt eulogies for their mother and I couldn't be prouder of them. We each wrote letters to Sherri and included them in the service program. Mine is posted on my blog. Every day since has been a fog of tears, confusion, anxiety, lack of concentration, sleepless nights, compassionate friendships, lost friendships, loneliness and hope.

As I made the unavoidable return to the work world, I learned on April 18th, Bob Norling passed away from the damned non-Hodgkins Lymphoma he'd been battling. Far too soon after Sherri passed away I was sitting in church listening to Bob's wife and his friend deliver heartfelt eulogies. The fog in my head was still pretty thick and I sat through the service like I was watching a film with the audio out of sync with the film. Despite my disoriented state of mind, their words tapped the well of tears that had been unsealed only three weeks earlier. Once again I can't convey the emotions as well as Bob's wife, Leah.

Bob as you recall is the reason I got re-engaged in Team in Training and pledged to help raise money to fight cancer. People were so touched by Bob's story that they donated $4000 so far to help fight blood cancers. Don't stop now; please go to my fundraising page and donate if you can. Thank you to the many people that have supported my fundraising. I can't thank you enough.

When I started writing my updates this season, I fully intended to finish my story about my trip across France., I had a particularly life-changing tale about my climb up the Tourmalet but now it all seems so long ago in a life from a sweet shattered dream. That story will have to wait for another time and frankly, a whole lot of healing. As I muddle through the emotional shards of my new life, I'm learning to look at it from a entirely new perspective. I've decided to start writing again. I feel that it will help me clear my thoughts and return me to a new normal. I have one request from those that have been following my adventures and updates. I realize that the only thing that really helps to get through these times is to talk to people. I would love to hear from you. Drop me a message or give me a call. I'm still the same guy; my life is just a lot less ordinary.

Thanks for reading, stay tuned as the pieces come together.

Steve

Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant

2010-04-08T22:32:00.001-07:00

Dear Sherri,

"Well done, good and faithful servant"

That's what the card said on the flowers that arrived for you. As soon as I read it, I was overwhelmed by a deluge of tears and sobs. As soon as I read it, I knew it fit you perfectly. Of course you would have recognized immediately where the verse originated; I had to look it up.

Sherri, you are a woman of uncommon generosity, boundless love and unwavering faith. The stories people recounted over the past few days confirm that statement. People that know you are amazed at your kindness and all of them miss you dearly.

We met under the most awkward of circumstances on Halloween night 31 years ago; I thoroughly embarrassed myself at Ken and Liz's Halloween party by hovering over you and trying to get you to remove that full length green sweater to reveal the risque "I Dream of Genie" costume underneath. You would not relent even though I tried every trick in the book to get you to take it off. After the party, I thought of you and assumed I would never hear from you again after my performance. Little did I know that, as you told your friend Peggy, I had caught your eye and you were smitten. If Peggy hadn't corroborated it, I wouldn't believe it, but you said you told her on the way home from the party, "I'm going to marry that guy." Little did you know, you had caught my eye too. I thought you were the most beautiful girl I laid eyes on. You were shy but you seemed quite kind. Your amazing smile and laughing eyes captivated me. You were the sweetest person I'd ever met; 31 years later, it's still true.

You loved me. You loved Emily and Rob. I remember all the Christmases, birthdays, Easters, and random events when you would take extra care to make our favorite desserts, give us a thoughtful gift, or surprise with something you found at the store - on sale, of course. Every time I went on a business trip, you'd sneak a note into my luggage, just to let me know you were thinking of me. All you wanted in return was to be held, to be kissed, to be appreciated and listened to, and to be loved. When I left the house to go to work and you were still asleep, I would kiss you gently on the head being careful not to wake you and I'd whisper "I love you", you always smiled and let out a little sigh. Just this last Easter, I remember sitting next to you on the couch and just reaching out to hold your hand. As we held hands, in just that simple gesture, you were happy. We were in love.

You loved kids. Obviously, you loved our kids the most. Even now, though they're 26 and 22 years old, you still tell them - "You're my babies; you'll always be my babies." You held Emily through the night as she endured a countless string of ear infections. You stayed awake by Rob's crib all night after his surgery when he was a baby, praying and caring for him. I remember how proud you were at all of Emily's recitals, the school plays, or just watching Rob work the video and sound for the church. When Rob and Emily both performed on saxophone and piano in front of the church in Oakland, you couldn't have been prouder.

Sherri, you taught me the definition of unconditional love. I had heard about it, but I only associated it to mothers and children. You demonstrated it constantly with me. From the day you knew you loved me, you were one hundred percent committed to loving me. Even though we hit many potholes in the road of marriage, you continued to love me through it all. I learned from you that unconditional love means just giving yourself over to the one you love. You made yourself a gift to me, and like a gift, it was given freely. You essentially said, "I am yours, cherish me."

Over the years, you amazed me with your incredible generosity. You were always involved with the church. At first you taught Sunday school at Concord, at Walnut Creek you handled the worked in the tech booth recording the services for the radio listeners, in Danville you worked running the PowerPoint presentations. You just couldn't say no. As the kids and I were trying to decide which charity you would like to supported in lieu of flowers, we realized you supported all of them. You gave to religious organizations, cancer research, the heart association, SPCA, wildlife funds, Girl Scouts, the national parks, missions, the Heifer Project, and many more.

Your support for Team in Training goes beyond admirable to legendary. To this day, participants and coaches talk about the amazing food preparation and support you provided to the riders that were raising money to fight leukemia. You set the bar so high, that people still talk about the nice surprises you made in order to make the riders more comfortable. They didn't see the long hours you put in making nutritious goodies for the team. I knew that you had been up until three or four in the morning preparing for the day's ride. And every time I met you at a rest stop, I'd ask you how you were holding up. You were exhausted but you would always be cheerful and supportive to every rider that came by. Everyone was appreciative, but they didn't grasp just how amazing you were.

You loved nature and always commented on the beauty of God's design. Every time we traveled you made it a point to see a marvelous site. Even though I wanted to relax by the pool with a beverage, you would want to see the local sites. Of course, we always ended up seeing the local sites. Whether it was driving all over Barbados, the Big Island, or the many national parks, we always saw the obscure little venues that only locals knew about. You loved when we went exploring and hiking down a less traveled trail. On Palm Sunday we went hiking in Castle Rock Park to see the wildflowers you love so well. When we hiked up the ravine trail to Shell Ridge, you were so ecstatic to see the delicate flowers amidst the emerald green trees and grasses that you said it was truly a gift from God. You saw beauty everywhere and in everything. I remember sitting with you for hours watching brown pelicans along Moonstone Beach diving into the waves. And while I enjoyed the beauty of the moment, it filled you with awe and you experienced it much more spiritually than I could grasp.

You love God. You truly modeled yourself after the Bible and Jesus. Your faith is unparalleled. Most people would lie in bed and read a book before going to sleep. You would too, but it was either the Bible or a book based on the teachings from the Bible. That was your foundation. I'd come to bed and say "Good book?" You'd laugh at the same old joke because you knew of course it was The Good Book. You would wake every morning, read from the Bible and you would pray. You always told me that you prayed for me and the kids. Many times you would tell me about a new discovery you made in a recent passage. I would tease you about Catholic dogma and that the Protestants got it wrong. I loved our little debates because I would pit my Catholic upbringing against your Protestant beliefs. Even though you would act shocked at my biblical backwardness, you loved our little debates because you knew you were right, you always had me outgunned and you knew I was doing it to "be a monster".

You based everything you did around your passionate belief in the Bible and Jesus. Honestly, I always admired how fervent your faith was. It was your faith that colored everything you did and every way you acted. You truly practiced what you preached in your devotion and in your love for everyone. This last Easter, when we were at breakfast, you said that Easter was your favorite holiday. You said "It is the highlight of the Christian calendar. Easter is more important than Christmas." You were incredibly happy and you thoroughly enjoyed the day that we had together with my family. We even talked about how great the weekend was as we drove home that evening. You felt loved by family and God.

You loved to be touched. You loved to be kissed. I would wrap my arms around your waist and hold you close. You always said you loved my shoulders and the feeling of being held. When we were looking at pictures for your memorials, I particularly loved the ones where me or the kids had you in our arms, those were the ones in which you looked happiest. I loved holding you. I loved the feeling of your skin against my hands. You made me feel like your protector, your sweetheart, your husband. As you lay in the hospital bed, I kissed your forehead, hoping to see the smile you always gave. When you didn't smile, my heart sunk at the pain of knowing you had gone. I touched your hands, hoping for the familiar squeeze. I just held onto your hand, crying, wishing it was all a nightmare, hoping to wake up. I will never forget your touch, ever.

Sherri, you taught me so much. I've only scratched the surface in this short letter. I want you to know that I love you, I've always loved you and I always will. I am grateful that I got a chance to say I love you on Sunday. I am grateful that we had such a peaceful and perfect day and that I knew you loved me and you knew I loved you. I know you are in a far better place. The only consolation that I have in this whole dismal business is I know you are at peace.

I love you sweetheart

We Have to Stand Up for Each Other

2010-04-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

"We have to stand up for each other"

Not the typical opening for my blog updates but I thought it was so poignant, I had to use it. My friend Kaval wrote that to me after I sent my last update about Bob's fight against non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. It couldn't be more true.

I was talking with my friend Sven about life, the universe and relationships. Sven was talking about how the movie Up in the Air really hit the nail on the head with its theme that life is richer with friendships. It may seem obvious, but all of us get caught up in the chaos of everyday life and we may lose sight of the temporal nature of friendships. What Sven and Kaval so simply illustrated is that you have to treat friendships like treasures and part of that obligation is, as Kaval put it, "you have to stand up for each other."

Which leads me to fighting cancer. We all know someone that has fought cancer. Not necessarily a blood cancer, but we have friends and loved ones that have fought and sometimes, succumbed, to these diseases. The thing about it is, it won't just go away. It takes research. Research takes funding. Research funding comes from people that care, people that have the means to help, and people that are willing to stand up for another.

I choose to raise money to fight cancer because it's my way of standing up for my friends, loved ones, and for people whom I haven't ever met. If you see someone harming your friends or family, you will step in to stop it; fighting cancer is like stepping forward to stop the mugger from harming your friends. So, please join me and stand up and fight against blood cancers by visiting my donation page at http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/TourAlps10/sasche

Bob
Last time I wrote about Bob and his impending stem cell transplant. I realize I can not even come close to communicating the ordeal as his wife Leah does. I've never met her, but my heart goes out to her. Here is her latest update on her blog http://www.califmom.com/califmom/2010/03/twenty-one-years-coming-to-an-end.html Go there. Read it.

Twenty-One Years Coming To An End

April 8, 1989. I had just returned to campus in Chico from spring break in Ensenada, Mexico.

Tan, rested, ready to party, my roommate and I headed out for a night on the town.

Bob and I met that night. Fell in love that night. Haven't been apart since that night.

After college, we got married. We had two beautiful children. We bought a house. We took vacations.

We lived.

We loved.

And now, I have to figure out how to do this without him --without the other part of me.

Without my We.

As I lie on this godforsaken chofa bed in a hospital room Bob won't get to leave, I can imagine millions of scenarios, but none of them are my life without my husband. None are my children without their father.

And this precarious position between keeping him comfortable and having him coherent is a level of hell Dante neglected to mention.

I used to worry about children not coming with instruction manuals. Now, I wish there was one for life and death.

This is Easter and Passover week. For many of you it's a time of faith, a time of miracles. Please remember Bob, his wife, and their family in your thoughts and prayers.

What am I doing?

I forgot to mention in my first post that I was doing the Death Ride this year...again. The Death Ride, for those of you new to this blog, is a one-day, 129 mile, bicycle ride over 5 mountain passes in the Sierra Nevadas south of Lake Tahoe. The Death Ride is an 11,000 calorie burning epic ride that takes every ounce of energy to complete. Cyclists do this ride because they're really fit or they don't know any better - I fall into the latter category. As if it it weren't hard enough, I started a new job in mid-February and I have the additional challenge of sacrificing training time for commuting and new-job-get-up-to-speed time. Unwisely, my only real training is on the weekends and I am getting further behind as it gets increasingly difficult. But you know, I just have to do it. It's nothing compared to what the victims of blood borne cancers are enduring.

We have to stand up for each other

Steve

visit my fundraising site at: http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/TourAlps10/sasche
visit my blog at: http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/

2010-02-28T10:52:00.000-08:00

Here We Go Again

My alarm went off Saturday morning, February 27th at 5:15am. I could hear the wind blowing the rain against the window screens. I saw by the thermometer on the window, it was 48 degrees outside, definitely hypothermia conditions. I wasn't supposed to be doing this. I had started a new job two weeks ago; the economy is dismal; I wasn't planning to participate in Team in Training this year. I just didn't have the time or energy to do this. As with many plans, life seems to get in the way.

Earlier this month, I learned that my friend, former co-worker, and fantasy football league compadre, Bob Norling had a recurrence of the non-Hodgkins lymphoma he had been treated for last year. Similar to leukemia, lymphoma is a blood cancer. Bob has two early teenage kids and has been married for 15 years. Bob is an excellent systems engineer, he races motorcycles, he isn't too good at fantasy football (at least not in the DLFC league), and everyone that knows him thinks he is a genuinely good guy. He's smart and he's funny in a low key manner. Currently he is going through chemotherapy and this week his will have a stem cell transplant. All hopes and prayers are with him as he waits for the stem cells to do their jobs.

When I found out about Bob I called my friend Barb at the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and I told her I wanted to enroll as a fundraising participant with this year's Death Ride team. The season had already started but she found a way to get me on the team. I pledged to raise $4000 to help fight Leukemia and Lymphoma.

Over the years I've talked to many of you who have had loved ones who have been affected by cancer. And every time I hear your stories, I choke up with emotion. My heart goes out to all of you and I just feel that this is a fight I have to tackle.

As I was getting ready on Saturday morning, I had to pause and think as I was putting on my Team in Training jersey. I thought about the drivers and pedestrians that would see my new teammates and me wearing our TnT jerseys as we are riding in the rain and cold. There's only one reason do to this, because we want to people to be aware of our mission.

So, here we go again. I'll be writing about my training, I have a few more stories from France (everybody loves Roy), I'll tell you more about Bob, and I have a few more surprises. Please help by sponsoring me. Think about the people you know, people like Bob, people like my late mother-in-law Margie, people like my friend Stacy, people like my co-worker Leonard, and my family friend Dan, all who have battled blood cancers. These diseases will only be defeated with the support of all of us.

Visit my fundraising page at http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/TourAlps10/sasche

You can follow my stories or get caught up on past posts at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/

Thank you for your support

2009-08-27T20:03:00.001-07:00

Finally, an Update

Whatever happened to Steve Asche? We used to get these regular updates about Team in Training and his trip across France. Then he dropped off the blogosphere. Did he ever make it across France without more uncomfortable moments with Roy? Did America's Most Beautiful Bike Team ever complete their century ride? What about the sponsorships with all the names on the bike?

Well it's about time I got around to this. To say a lot has happened since June would be an understatement, I'll provide those details in future updates.

Let's get to the most important question - Did America's Most Beautiful Bike Team make their 100 ride around Lake Tahoe?

Of course they did! And they did it in epic fashion. Team Shake 'n Bake would have flown around Lake Tahoe if they could - that and if they had wings and sufficient thrust and all the other physical requirements. The team did fantastically well despite some very, very cold and wet conditions the day before.

The team got up there the day before and we'd planned a tune-up ride. This was a 10 mile ride from the hotel just to get people acclimated to riding at altitude. Of course what we hadn't planned on was cold rain. I debated about whether it was nobler to check into the hotel and take a hot bath or take the team for their tune-up. I opted for the latter. We went for a ride in 40 degree rain and all I could think is people are going to get hypothermia. We were miserable and soaked. On top of that, the weather forecast for Sunday said more of the same in the morning. Great, train all spring to have to face a bitter cold ride. On the plus side, at least there was no concern about overheating. Three weeks earlier we nearly exhausted the team by taking them on an 80 miler in 100-plus heat in Livermore. So now they're going to get the other end of the spectrum. Fortunately everyone survived the ice cold tune-up.

A memorable part of the ride was going up Spooner Summit with Julie Reed, one of the esteemed Shake 'n Bakers. I rode with her the whole way up the 7 mile climb. Along the way we passed dozens of TnT riders from all over the country. Julie was maintaining an aggressive pace. With about a half mile to go, I told Julie that we had just a little farther, pointing out that the top was up ahead around a curve. With that notice, she put the hammer down and started passing everyone. She had a full head of steam and she was not going to be denied. The Shake 'n Bake team regrouped at the top of Spooner and we made the downhill run back to the starting line. The best part of the ride was finishing as a group at the finish line. Check out the picture.

What about the bike sponsorships you ask? It had snowed at the higher elevations around Lake Tahoe a couple days before. Nonetheless I made individual stickers for my bike and had applied every sponsor's name to the frame, forks, and handlebars on my bike. I carefully taped each name down so the wind wouldn't mess cause and incessant flapping as I was riding. It was a work of art. I even had provisions for writing my name on various body parts. I'm sad to say the body part plan was shelved because it was way too cold to have exposed skin. I figured you'd prefer visibility. So everyone that sponsored me got a placement. One special sponsor, Natalie Jenkins, had made such a generous donation that she bought the spot of honor. Yes, those are my shorts.

So what about Roy?

Well after I blew past Roy on Col de Mente, we rode into Luchon. Luchon is a resort town in the center of the Pyrenees. We got to rest for a day and see the sites. The next day we would be climbing our legs off as we would tackle Le Tourmalet. I know, you're disappointed that there are no Roy stories this time. He'll be back, don't worry.

Finally, thank you to everyone that bought sponsorships on my bike. We raised close to $3000 to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. The fight continues. Every day we get closer to a cure.

For this Thanksgiving I would like to thank you for all your generous support.

Steve

2009-05-17T12:14:00.000-07:00

That Day

I know it hasn’t been that long since the last update but I wanted to get another update in before the donation deadline. This update is a little longer than usual, but it is one of my more memorable days on a bike. So if you haven’t read the previous posts you may need to catch up.

I’m still selling sponsorships too. If you made a donation and haven't picked a spot, I may assign one to you or you can let me know. So get your donation in to get a spot on me or my bik e.

France – The Hard Way

I woke on day 4 feeling pretty good. Not just-won-the-lottery good, more like slept-through-the-night-without-worrying-about-getting-spooned-by-Roy good. I attribute the better sleep to the glasses of local wine I shared with my new drinking buddy, Brigitte, wife of the non-drinking Rutiger. Trying to exhibit good-ole American hospitality, I couldn’t let her drink wine alone. So we made it a point to sample the local wine at each town we stayed. There’s definitely something to be admired about the rural French, they know how to eat and drink

Roy was already dressed, thankfully, and was describing the day’s upcoming ride. He’d diligently studied the route and, like a doctor explaining impending surgery, he gave me an unrequested but obligatory report that he was sure I needed to know. Along with the news he delivered the weather, it would be really hot today. We have three major cols to climb. As best as I can figure a col is French for a mountain pass. It’s probably short for “collapse” because that’s what you feel like doing when you get to the top. Roommate Roy asked if my sore tendon was going to force me to ride in the van. I wanted to say “I’ll be damned if I ride in the van, what do you think I am?” Instead I said the tendon felt fine and I was good to go. I made a mental note to thank Horst for adjusting my seat and alleviating the problem. As we headed out Roy mentioned that he’d let me have the bed by the window tonight since he always got to the hotel before me and always had first pick of the room. Instead of saying thanks, I smugly said, “Maybe I’ll save the window for you.” He laughed the kind of snort-laugh that I used to hear a lot in my high school days that simply said, “That ain’t gonna happen.”

The first climb, much like the days before, I brought up the rear. But something was different this time; I actually could see the leading groups as I was nearing the top. In other words, I wasn’t as far back as I typically was. On the second climb I rolled to the top for a rest just as Roommate Roy was leaving. Four of us left the top of the second col, crossed the valley and started the third climb – Col de Mente. Roy was something like 20 minutes ahead of us.

Col de Mente climbs about 1100 meters over 15 kilometers. Roughly 3400 feet over 9 miles – or in layman’s terms, a Mt. Diablo. There are many switchbacks that zigzag up the face of the peak. After the first couple turns I had to rest and cool off – Roy was right about the weather. As I was resting the other three riders kept going leaving me as the last rider on the hill - crap. I got back on the bike and continued the long hot climb. As I was slogging along, the tour van pulled along side me and a voice that can be only described as a Teutonic angel, in precise German-accented English I heard – “Vould you like some cold vater?”

Petra, whom I befriended on one of our rides a couple days ago, was in the van. She said they stopped at the spring atop the previous mountain and filled the coolers with ice cold water. I replaced the lukewarm water in my bottles and thanked her profusely. I also poured a healthy amount on the back of my neck and felt amazingly revived. If I’d known her better, I would have kissed her.

With 14 kilometers to climb, a voice inside me said something elegantly simple - “Go” As if propelled by a thermal updraft, I went. I knew that this was the last climb for the day and I might as well leave it all on the mountain. I kicked my cadence up to 80 revolutions per minute and dropped into a fast climbing pace. As I climbed I saw the 3 riders that had passed me earlier. They were a couple switchbacks ahead of me. I didn’t think of them I just focused on my rhythm. Without any fanfare I slipped past the group leaving them quickly behind me. I thought that if I was riding Mt. Diablo back home that this would be one of my personal best rides. I was in the zone. In every westbound switchback I would take a drink of Petra’s ice cold water – in every eastbound switchback I’d pour a little water on the back of my neck. I felt like Floyd Landis in 2006 Tour. Go. After doing this for countless switchbacks, I spotted what I never thought I would see.

With 1.5 kilometers to go to the top, I saw Phil and … Roy! Go. I kicked my cadence up to 85 rpm and quickly closed the gap between us. I came upon them said to them as nonchalantly as possible to make it sound like I was cruising, “Hey, how’s it going?” Roy looked around with a look that said “Where the hell did you come from?” Then I said something that was incredibly cheeky – “grab onto my wheel, I’ll give you a pull”. When you’re riding and someone says that to you, it may mean “Get in my slipstream and it will be easier on you.” But oftentimes it means “You can draft off me - if you can keep up.” I may have said it like the former but I suspect I meant it as the latter. Phil didn’t bite, he knew that it was still another kilometer to the top and he didn’t want to blow up. Roy bit.

I took my pace up a few more notches. Roy and I were flying up the last 800 meters. He was hanging on my wheel. The afternoon sun was beating down. Sweat was flying. I shifted into a couple higher gears and put the hammer down. With that I heard what sounded like the “pfffishhh” sound a compressor makes when it the pressure valve releases. It was Roy making a pronounced exhale as he reached his limit. I cracked him. I pulled away and made it to the top of Col de Mente a few minutes ahead of him.

As we rode into our hotel in Luchon later that afternoon, Roy and I together, Roy said “The beer’s on me tonight, you kicked my butt back there.” For the rest of the trip, Roy was all right. Roy may out climb me on most rides, but today was that day. You know, that day, where everything just works and you can beat the world.

Now here’s the point - You have to keep after it. That’s what TnT and fundraising is all about. There are people fighting for their lives. Some days are bad and some days will be that day. With research more of them will win. This is your last chance to donate so if you are inclined, please consider making a donation. It will give some victim a chance to experience that day.

Steve

2009-04-21T22:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome Back

As you recall, I'm raising money by selling sponsorships on my bike. Thanks to everyone that's helping sponsor my bike and body. I got donations for various bike parts and even a left nipple. I don't know why I say "a left nipple" since I'm not one of those folks with an extra nipples. Anyway, there are plenty of parts and bike components available for sponsorships. Just go to my fundraising site, make a donation and name the part you want sponsored. As you can see in the picture on my blog, Pope Benedict and I are sending you our heartfelt thanks.

France - The Hard Way
As you recall last time, well if you don't recall last time, go to my blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/ and read about my Bike Story. As I was saying, where we last left my story I was getting ready for the first night in Spain. I was sharing a room with a bottomless roommate that had a Darth Vader breathing apparatus. The pretty much sums it up. Well almost.

Sleeping the first night was brutal. First I'm worried that my Darth Vader roomie might play some mean tricks on me, the weather was so hot it was nearly impossible to sleep. So if he did try playing tricks, I would have been on him like a spider monkey.

So the first day of riding came after a long hot sleepless night. Roy asked if I slept well, I said no. He then asked something about a teabag, I had no idea what he was talking about. I was just glad he didn't try to spoon me in the night. Anyway, we packed our bags and headed down to the parking lot where our journey would begin.

When the idea was first proposed to me to ride a bike across the Pyrenees mountains between France and Spain, I thought "How hard can it be?" The distance didn't look that far, after all, it was only a few inches on the globe at home. And besides, everything is smaller in Europe. So I figured, what the heck, I could easily ride my bike across France. Look I've been through Death Ride training with Team in Training, I could ride to the moon if I had to. As with many things in life, the reality did not match expectations.

We get down to the lot and I notice that everyone is standing in the shade. Mike is having an animated discussion with Horst, the ride organizer. Horst was smiling and laughing much like when you talk to someone who absolutely no idea what you are talking about but the person doesn't want to offend you. I got close enough to hear what Mike was asking Horst. Mike said "...I'll even buy the ice chest too" As I stepped from the shade into the sun, it became readily apparent why Mike was so insistent on convincing Horst to buy an ice chest and ice. It was 8:30 in the morning and it already felt like late afternoon. All I could think was "oh shoot". At this point I did the only sane and reasonable thing...I offered to double what Mike was offering Horst so he would be extra motivated to buy the ice.

Horst wasn't buying it either figuratively or literally. Besides he said, "There's no place to buy ice." I thought this was crazy. I asked him matter-of-factly, "What they don't have the recipe here?" Horst gave me a look much like you would make when you discover you have gum in your hair.

Plenty of heat. Lack of sleep. No ice. No problem. We finally set off on our ride. Now at this point your probably wondering if I'm going to talk about every mountain pass we rode over giving you exhaustive details about the height in meters and the number of French people I saw, I won't. Here's the shortened version about day 1. It was 90 miles of torture. We climbed over three mountain passes. One pass was on the border between Spain and France where the road had been removed by the locals because they didn't want any illegal immigrant Spaniards sneaking into their country. The highlight of the ride was when my friend Andrew and I found a roadside stand that sold cool Coca Cola. Notice I didn't say ice cold or frosty. Cool is their definition of cold. After the morning and afternoon of blistering heat, sweltering humidity, warm drinking water that we had endured, a cool Coke was perfect. Andrew and I sat and drank our cool Cokes and shared that look of "What the hell have we signed up for?"

Thankfully we finished our rides, we were the last ones to come in to the hotel that evening. Everyone else had been there for some time, had enjoyed cool beers and were relaxing from the ride. Everyone was talking about how hot it was. Of course, Roy had some pearls of wisdom to share. He said "You know, this hot weather is particularly harder on heavier guys. I'm really impressed that you made it." Of course, I'm thinking that's just great. Just what I need, I'm totally beat up and now I'm being patronized...by Roy. If I had been riding at the time I would have squirted my water bottle at him or put my frame pump in his spokes. Maybe another day.

So day one is in the books. We survived. We saw some very pretty country side and we were exhausted. Only 6 more days of this. What had I signed myself up for.

Riding across France is no small feat. Surviving cancer is infinitely harder. If you have been stimulated by the Obama economic plan and have a big heart, please consider donating to fight cancer. And hey you get your name on my bike, or my body. So take a moment, dig moderately deep, and go to my fundraising site.

Stay tuned for my next update and find out if riding across France has any redeeming qualities.

2009-04-04T20:46:00.000-07:00

Welcome back. Well that's not really accurate since I'm popping up unexpectedly in your mail box. So I guess I'm welcoming myself back. As you know I'm writing about my annual saga to raise money to fight leukemia and lymphoma and how I'm coaching a group of people to ride their first century ride. I figure you'd appreciate the trials and challenges and hey, if you enjoy the tales, you might want to support the cause. http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/ambbr09/sasche

About the Bike Sponsorship
The offer to sponsor parts of my bike and my attire was met with immediate response. I've got sponsors for my drops (they're on my handlebars), my helmet, my bottle cage, and the back of my shorts! Nice going. I will wear the sponsors names proudly. I told the rest of the team and they thought the idea was quite innovative. To get more sponsors, I figured I'd go the full NASCAR route. I'm offering more body parts for sponsorships. I figure I can use the same grease pen stuff they use on triathletes and put the names of sponsors on body parts. So in addition to bike parts, I am adding my calves, quadriceps and biceps (also known as my guns :-D
If you're interested in signing up, visit my site and make at least a $25 donation. If you're interested in other body parts, let me know I am negotiable. All you have to do is go to the sponsorship website at http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/ambbr09/sasche

A Bike Story
This is not related to the training, which is going quite well, but I figured I'd tell you a bit about my trip across France last summer. That's right, I along with 4 friends and 5 new friends rode our bikes from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic along the crests of the Pyrenees mountain range. I'll include little excerpts in these posts. Anyway if you're considering a tour you may want to plan a little more carefully than I.

So there I was sitting in the airport in Perpignan France. This is a little Mediterranean beach town on the border of Spain and France. The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane was that it was hot and humid. It felt like Washington DC in August. I met up with my friend Phil and one of the other riders, Roy from Tucson. Our guide, Horst was there to shuttle us to the hotel. We loaded our bike boxes, our luggage and our jet-lagged bodies into the tour group's fine German van and we were on our way to meet the rest of our riders.

Of course the topic of conversation in the van was generally about the weather. Afterall, isn't that what people talk about when they first meet. Horst proceeded to tell us that this 530 mile trek we are about to make is much better in June. It's not nearly as hot and humid. Wait a minute, I just spent a princely sum to ride with Horst's tour group and he's telling me that it would be better if I rode a different time. I started to have some concerns about this trip. He followed up his weather report with a description of the rides, he went on to explain how the Pyrenees are very treacherous, of course with his German accent he pronounced treacherous with a long e sound. So at first I didn't know what he was saying. As we climbed the winding roads that led to our starting point, I realized what he said. Ah jeez.

Roy from Tucson was rattling on about all the great long distance rides he's done around Tucson and Washington state. Apparently he was quite proud of his achievements. Just as I'm thinking, thank God I don't have to listen to these stories all day, Horst says, "By the way, you and Roy will be roomates." I think, "I'm on vacation; maybe it won't be so bad."

We make our way to Port de la Selva Spain. And after meeting the rest of the group, assembling our bikes, having dinner, we get our room assignments. Roomate Roy and I check into our rather small hotel room. The first thing we notice is the single bed. "Oh hell no", is my first thought. After further investigation I realize there are two beds but they're pushed together. I immediately set to separating the beds and made sure there was a safe two feet between the beds. Okay that's not so bad.

Roy then starts to unpack what looks like an oxygen mask and pump. He asks if I mind the sound of his air pump machine. I told him it was okay because I'm deaf in one ear. I can just sleep on my good ear. I was mildly worried about sleeping with the sound of Darth Vader breathing two feet away. I could imagine myself waking up in the middle of the night and being quite disoriented. Finally he says he's ready for bed. He then removes his pants and puts on a t-shirt. Now when I say "removes his pants", I mean he's naked from the waist down. Ah hell.

My immediate thought was, "I wonder if he and his wife are one of those couples where they buy one set of pajamas and one where's the tops and the other wears the bottoms?" But in most couples, the woman wears the tops and the man wears the bottoms. I thought, "they got it all messed up." Which I thought at the time was quite a funny thought. So, naturally, I laughed. Apparently you don't want to laugh when someone in the room is not wearing any pants. Roy asks me, "What's funny?" At this time I immediately think, "Oh no! he thinks I'm laughing at his junk." So I quickly come up with an explanation that Horst made a joke about John McCain and George Bush at dinner. Apparently the Germans were not fond Bush and McCain, but I digress. That's when I remembered Roy is from Arizona, home to Senator McCain. Roy goes, "that's not funny." Now I did not want to get into a conversation with guy not wearing pants, so I said "It's funny when the jokes are told with a German accent." Roy says nothing. Great. Now I'm thinking, "He absolutely thinks I was laughing at his nethers and he's going to do something to me in my sleep or worse, he's going to tell me one of his cycling stories." So on my first night of vacation I am in a tiny hotel room with a half-naked guy with a grudge and a Darth Vader breathing machine. And I'm thinking, "I get 7 days of this and I haven't even done any riding."

In future posts I'll tell you about French beaches, ghost cows, the land where only two people work, near-death experiences, tense moments at customs, and a host of other stories. I'll even share pictures. If you enjoy the tales, then sponsor my cause, I have plenty of spots on my bike and lots of body parts available.

Finally, if you have comments or suggestions, visit my blog.

Steve

It's Not About the Back

2009-03-11T23:09:00.000-07:00

It's Not About the Back
I'm selling the rights to put your name on my bike in exchange for donations to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. You have to go to my web page to donate. Visit the blog for details.

2009-03-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

Welcome back. I appreciate all the well wishers and supporters that have been following my tale of riding my bike and raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. I'm here to share another installment about my latest challenge. As you may recall I've raised money the past 3 years to in honor of my mother-in-law Margie Griffin. Each year I've done something to encourage donations. In the past I've ridden a mile for every dollar donated and last year we had a raffle. This year I've come up with something a little different. The idea for this year's fundraiser comes from my daughter's college alumni association. They sent her a solicitation letter where they were selling sponsorships for chairs in the new music hall. For a substantial sum you got to pay to have your name on a seat in the auditorium. Not a bad idea. So I decided to take that idea and make it better.

For this year's fundraising recognition, I'm going to sell sponsorships on my bike and apparel. That's right you can have your name prominently displayed on a part of my bike. When I'm riding I'll be reminded of people that have supported me this year. It will also remind others of what I'm doing.

Now I realize many of you don't know what the parts of a bike are. So here's a list of parts that are available: handle bars, hoods, drops, forks, top tube, down tube, seat tube, steerer tube, chain stays, seat stays, cranks, hubs, seat, bottle cages. For a, shall we say, $25 donation (of course you're not limited) you can request which bike part you wish to have your name emblazoned. For example, you can visit my donation site at http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/ambbr09/sasche , make a donation and simply send me an email. You can say "Steve, I want a fork" or "I want your crank" and I will gladly put your name on my crank (left or right) or you can have the fork or any other bike part you can think of. Then I will take a picture of the emblazoned part and your name will be for all to see.

Additionally I'm offering items of apparel. I always wear a helmet so you can sponsor that. Or for that extra special someone I'm offering to my to put a select name on the pad of my bicycle shorts. Now you could put anyone in there but this is ideal if you want to send a message to someone that did you wrong. It could be the cop that gave you a ticket this morning or your 9th grade civics teacher. Whatever name you choose, just sponsor me and send me a message that says "I want to be on on your helmet or I want xxxx to be in your shorts"

Check out the bike picture, as you can see there are a plethora of sponsorship opportunities awaiting.

Act fast, all of the best spots are sure to go quickly. Now this is much better than buying a chair in a concert hall. And the best part, it's just as tax deductible.

As always, be sure to check out the blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/ And if you no longer wish to receive these updates, drop me a message.

Thanks
Steve

2009-02-18T21:51:00.000-08:00

While the Bay Area has been enduring a week of rain and the rest of the country is slogging through the depths of winter, my thoughts are turning to my annual quest to do something just a little different. But before I launch into my plans for 2009, I'd like to bring some of the new recipients up to date. For the past four years I have ridden my bicycle ridiculous distances in order to raise awareness and funds to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. You can read my tales at my blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/ I've been doing this because, well, cancer sucks and I have a few friends that died from Leukemia, including my mother-in-law Margie Griffin. So when I'm not organizing reunions, or my day job, or my night job, I ride and raise funds. If you want to support me, and of course I'd be very appreciative if you did, visit my fundraising site at http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/ambbr09/sasche For the new readers, you're up to speed. If you want some background, visit the blog as I said. Look for the entries about kamikaze squirrels, touching the floor, dieting tips, scary events, and how to crush walnuts with ones butt cheeks.

So this year's saga is a little different. The fine folks at Team in Training decided to allow me to be a coach. That's right, can you believe that. The funny thing is they know me too. They said that if the people you coach have half as much fun as you, then you'll do fine. Well, we'll see about that.

To be a coach you have to take a coaching class. I did that. I can now show you how to change a tire while your still riding your bike. Pretty impressive eh! They even had me take a CPR/AED and First Aid class. I spent last Sunday at the Red Cross sitting with a bunch of well-intentioned folks trying to revive the torso of a dummy. The instructor did not appreciate my comments about the dummy being beyond saving nor the comment about how my dummy never got to see Paris. Despite that, the instructor passed me. Now I am coaching certified and CPR certified so the next thing is to actually coach people. So that's what I'm doing. I'm one of the assistant coaches of the America's Most Beautiful Bicycling team. Can you believe that? That is the official name and these folks will be doing their first century rides on June 7th .

Check it out, there's a picture of me on my first day of coaching. It was like my first day of school. So join me every couple weeks while I indulge you with the latest tales from the road and the America's Most Beautiful Bicycling team's quest to do their epic ride. If you get a chance, support the cause

2008-12-24T11:20:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas from the Asche Family

A few weeks ago my family asked if I was going to write a Christmas letter this year. You may recall that we actually wrote our first family Christmas letter two years ago and I got an earful of responses. Mostly comments like “I can’t believe you would say that” or “I hope you didn’t send a copy to your aunt.” So I shelved the idea. But the family persisted, so here we go. I’ve poured myself a glass of port wine (Taylor Fladgate), I’m listening to Christmas music (Trans-Siberian Orchestra) and I’m finally ready to give you an account of the past year. First a sip of port…that’s good stuff.

So I drew names out of a hat, well not actually a hat, a paper cup, to see whose glorious year I would recount first. Sherri is the first up and she has had a very good year. Let’s talk traveling – she went to London to see a living queen, to Egypt to see a dead queen, and to Alaska to see a lot of wildlife and some real Americans. She didn’t actually get to meet either queen. She did however see where they live, so that’s pretty cool – well, only one of them, the other, being dead, doesn’t actually live anywhere. She had a great time in Alaska with her cousin Peggy, and spent time consorting with eagles and bears. Since she was just in Alaska and there was a lot of talk about Alaska during the election season, she was asked if she could really see Russia from Alaska. The only Russia she saw were the white Russians that the Alaskans are fond of drinking.

Emily went to London and Egypt too. She started the year working for a firm that sells executive insurance policies. At least that’s the best I can figure out. All we know is that it’s a bunch of executives that meet with a bunch of clients, golf and drink a lot. So they’re either insurance brokers or they’re executives at AIG. Nonetheless, she likes the job and she’s saving money for graduate school. She’s applied to two schools in London. Since the British have “acquired” much of western civilization’s art over the past few centuries, what better place to become an expert art historian.

Rob is plugging away at DVC and hopes to be finished next semester. He’s planning to major in communications. Any of you that have lived through teenage boyhood or have lived with a teenage boy, know how incredibly ironic that is. Anyway he really is quite creative and very good writer. He offered to write the Christmas letter but he tends towards darker subjects and more observational topics. The letter would digress into a commentary about what’s up with the houses that have only blue lights? Which reminds me, what is the deal with houses and blue lights? Think about it, you never see all red lights or all orange lights. Here’s the prevailing theory in the Asche household – they’re Hanukkah lights. I’ve thought about stopping at one of the houses and asking them what the deal is. We generally think that may be a tad insensitive. So if anyone knows the answer, please pass it along. As I was saying, he would likely digress into other topics but if you’re on Facebook, check out some of his blurbs. His piece on why we don’t get presents any more is pretty good.

Sherri just stopped in to say “Hi”. She asked me to turn the music down and wants to know why I’m drinking port at 10 in the morning. I told her it helps put me in the holiday spirit. “Oh really” she says, “I bet if you took me shopping that would really put you in the holiday spirit.” I said, “If we’re going shopping, I better have a couple more glasses of port.” She said, “Just finish the letter and try not to insult anyone this time.” I said, “Don’t worry I’m avoiding politics, religion and sports, so we’ll be fine”

Ok, back to the letter. I had an eventful year. I kept my job. I voted in the primaries and the general elections. I donated money to support a political candidate. It’s not who you think. According to some people, I drank a lot of port. I hired a professional trainer to teach me how to eat properly and to help me lose 25 pounds. Both goals were accomplished. Over the course of 7 days, myself and 4 friends rode our bikes from the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean through the Pyrenees Mountains on the border of France and Spain. That was an epic trip. I definitely got a new appreciation of what those riders in the Tour de France do. Ok maybe that was a little more interesting than voting and a lot better than my trip to Wichita.

My port is almost gone, so I’ll wrap this letter up. We wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy and Prosperous New Year.

2008-07-14T22:13:00.000-07:00

Sisyphus was a Cyclist
It was hot, dry and smoky on Saturday when I, along with the TnT Death Ride team, returned to the Death Ride for my third consecutive year. The day before, when we drove into Markleeville, you couldn't see the mountains that lined the valley walls where Markleeville lay. Smoke from recent northern California fires seemed to be concentrating right where we were going to ride the next day. When we got out of the car, we were assaulted with 90 degree heat. I had some serious doubts about the next day's ride. I thought the route would be littered with fallen cyclists along the side of the road trying to catch their breaths. I thought to myself, "Why the heck am I doing this?" This is my third year with TnT and here I am again, ready roll my boulder of a body up 15,000 feet of elevation. There must be something mentally wrong with me. Well that wasn't an original thought, I had that question posed to me by a number of friends in the past. Most recently a couple days before the ride.

We arrived the next morning at 4:45am. The goal was to get on the road around 5:00. Thankfully you couldn't see the smoke as it was quite dark. This year I decided to take a different tactic to riding the Death Ride, I buddied up with friends Alex, Andrew and The Hammer (pictured to the left). As we left in the dark at 5:05 we noticed that it wasn't very cold. In fact, as we rode towards Monitor Pass, there was a warm wind blowing down the valley.

The buddy ride tactic was working quite well. We talked about various topics from vacation plans, mosquitoes, mid-life crises, and what we planned to do with our weekends now that the training season was coming to an end. Before we knew it, we had crested the first pass and we were at the bottom of the second pass. The good news at this point was it turned out to not be that smoky. In fact, it was downright pleasant. I knew not to get too confident. I felt good at this point every other time I did this ride. So The Hammer, Alex, Andrew and I set off to conquer pass number 2.

We got to the top of Monitor Pass again, having climbed two mountains now, and it was only 9:00am. We went down Monitor, hitting a top speed of 46mph and we made our way over to Ebbetts. Our luck was holding, we crested the top of Ebbetts Pass at 11:30. This was astounding since I'd never made it there before 12:15. Wow, I was having a great day. At the bottom of Ebbetts in the Hermit Valley we met my friend Betty (pictured on the right). Betty drove over that morning from her home in Arnold and brought sodas, ice and Milky Way bars for the TnT folks. She commented that I was much earlier than the last time two years ago when I came through at 12:30. We hung out drank Betty's greatly appreciated Cokes, grabbed some ice and headed up the back side of Ebbetts Pass.

Now normally the back side of Ebbetts is my bane. The sun beats down on you, there's no breeze and it's very steep. Well it was still steep, but a serendipitous thing happened, large clouds came in and blocked the sun. This dropped the temperatures at least 10 degrees. The ride to the top of Ebbetts was pretty straightforward. This couldn't be, the only problem I had all day was my heart rate monitor was flaking out on me. Could this be the year where I breeze through this ride? When I met my wife Sherri for lunch, I told her I was having a great ride. When I rode through Markleeville on my way to the fifth pass, there were actually people still there to cheer me on. Unbelievable!

I made it all the way to Woodfords, which is the lowest part of the route, and I thought everything was going fine. Then I noticed, it's quite warm now. Actually, it was downright hot. Woodfords is right at the edge of the Nevada desert. The area around it is covered with spiky shrubs. Fortunately you climb away from Woodfords to the cooler area of Picketts Junction and Carson Pass. But at that moment, my brain said, "Hold on there big fella, it's too hot for us, slow down." Being a person that occasionally listens to my brain, I had no choice but to slow down.

When you're riding and one of the people you're with slows down, that doesn't necessarily mean you have to slow down. It's quite acceptable for the faster riders to go their own pace and you'll meet up at the top of the climb. When you get to the top, they'll have been resting for several minutes. When you get there they usually say "Let's go" and you have to keep riding. This is known in cycling circles as "Paying the slow tax." As The Hammer, Alex and Andrew pulled away, I knew I would be paying the slow tax.

So there I was making the hot and slow 5 mile climb from Woodfords to Picketts. At this point, the thoughts of "Why am I doing this?"returned. At the end of last years ride, my friend Barb, who has completed Iron Man triathlons, said "I cannot understand why *anyone* would ever, ever do this ride twice". Like a marathoner, I realized I had hit my wall. So I did what a marathoner would do, focus on something else and gut it out. So I focused on the well wishes I received the days before. The phrases "Have a great ride" and "Just keep pedaling" kept playing through my head along with the song "Lose Yourself" by Eminem. Okay, if I keep my focus it won't get any worse. I was wrong. It got worse.

As I reached Picketts Junction those clouds that provided shade on Ebbetts Pass decided to call up some reinforcements. The friendly cumulus clouds had turned into nasty cumulonimbus clouds and they were full of hail and they were mighty angry. Lightning, thunder, and hail the size of garbanzo beans started hammering us. Now I can tolerate garbanzo beans in small doses, but smacking you in the head and back is most unpleasant. It felt like the ice balls were being shot from sling shots. Everyone scattered for cover. The outhouses were crowded with people trying to avoid the hail. Roughly 100 cyclists were huddled under one tent. As the hail was coming down, I had the unbelievably good fortune of having my wife drive up in our car. She didn't see me. Fortunately she pulled over about 200 yards ahead and was helping some other cyclist. When I got to her, the other cyclist was quite dry under the shelter of a wading pool that she had brought along for people to cool their feet. She thought, correctly I might add, that the riders' feet were probably quite cool at the moment. The only room in our car was in the back seat. Well, actually, if I moved the ice chests and beach umbrella out of the way. I decided I'll just sit in the back seat and hold the ice chest on my lap. You see the funny thing about ice chests is they are usually full of ice. When an ice chest has been out all day, the ice has melted to a mixture of about half ice and half water. So instead of leaving the ice chest outside, where it could quite capably weather the hail storm, I held it on my lap. Well that is until the I tilted the ice chest a little too much and about a quart of ice water dumped into my lap, soaking my jersey and shorts, and flowing onto my nice leather seats.

At this point I was colder inside the car than outside. I really envied that guy under my wading pool...lucky bastard. After about 20 minutes, the rain let up to a light shower. It was time to leave. Mister Wading Pool also decided it was time to go. He thanked Sherri for the use of the portable shelter handed the pool back to her through the car window. Pools, as you might guess, are quite good at holding water. This one was no exception. As the pool was being fed through the window, the collected water poured onto my front seats. At this point I let out a series of expletives that would make Eric Cartman blush. If I catch that guy I'm going put a water bottle in his spokes. I wasn't going to dwell on it. I got out of the car.

When one has ridden 100 miles and climbed over 13000 feet then dumps ice cold water on his thighs, a very predictable and painful thing happens. I got vicious cramps in both legs. I said to myself, to heck with this, maybe they'll go away if I keep pedaling. "Just keep pedaling" So I got back on the bike, shivering like an apoplectic fundamentalist at a revival meeting, I set out to finish this dang ride. I had lost The Hammer, Alex and Andrew when we all scattered for cover. Well, I guess I'm finishing this one on my own.

There was a seemingly endless line of cyclists making the slow climb up Carson Pass. By the way, the nasty cumulonimbus clouds weren't done. Twice more the hail and rain beat down on us. At one point on the climb the rider behind me hit my rear wheel with his front wheel. Immediately he fell over into the sand on the side of the road. For a split second I felt sorry for him, then I thought, "Sure, fine, lie down and rest." "Just keep pedaling" I passed my friend Jon who was taking a rest on the side of the road. (He hadn't fallen like the other guy) I told him to get behind me and we'd finish this thing. He said there were about 100 riders behind me and would wait for an opportunity to pull in. I hadn't realized the Death Ride had turned into the Bataan Death March on Wheels.

At 5:35 I made it to the top of Carson Pass. I got my 5 pass sticker, my 5 pass pin and my celebratory ice cream. I waited at the top to see several teammates come in and complete the ride. I raided a nearby dumpster and stole some discarded cardboard. I stuffed that down my shirt because I knew the descent back to the finish would be very cold and likely wet.

The pavement was still wet, though it wasn't raining. On the east side of Carson Pass there's a quarter mile straight steep section with a sharp right turn followed by a left turn. I figured that I should apply a little more braking to accommodate for the wet pavement. Wet brakes tend to grip inconsistently and can set up a vibration in the wheels. At 45mph I started a high-speed wobble. I'm heading down a highway, at 45 mph, towards a sharp right turn and my bike starts shaking. The Tour de France, which is going on right now, has a commercial where they show lots of bike crashes. In the commercial they say, "The next time you're in your car, start driving at 50mph, strip down to your underwear and jump out. That's what crashing on a bicycle is like." It's a very memorable commercial; I had no desire to test that now. I tried braking some, it made it worse. "Oh crap!" Then I remembered, "change the physics of the machine." "Get off the seat and just keep pedaling" Sure enough, I lifted my butt off the seat, pulled my knees close to the top tube and moved the pedals. The wobble subsided. That was really scary.

After that, as I returned to the start and I wondered again, "Why am I doing this?"

When I returned the start. Alex, The Hammer, Andrew along with Kimberly, Jon, Sue, K.Sue, Shelley, Grace, Richard, Robert, and many other teammates were there celebrating their accomplishment. I saw the satisfaction they had in finally conquering this achievement. I remembered that we all trained together all season to make this one goal. When we got separated, I lost concentration and had forgotten that it wasn't about me. Sure I could be drinking margaritas while sitting on a beach in Costa Rica, and I will some day, but this day, it was about the team. The Hammer came up to me and said she waited for me after we got separated and tried to find me and that she really wanted to finish the ride with me. It's something we did together. We worked together and we all made it together. It's not about the ride, it was about the camaraderie. So I did the only proper thing, I bought a couple beers and we celebrated like we'd just won the Tour de France.

2008-06-29T20:19:00.000-07:00

On Gravel and Gravity
Have you ever noticed that the words gravel, gravity, and grave all have the same beginning. This thought crossed my mind as I was rapidly descending Mt. Hamilton last Saturday. I started thinking this as I navigated the endless hairpin turns and noticed that in every blind turn there seemed to be a line of gravel in the middle of the road. It takes a whole lot of concentration and quite a bit of luck to come around a corner, see the gravel and find a line that doesn't take you through the gravel or into the oncoming lane. Nothing quite gets your attention like going around a corner at 25 mph hitting bit of gravel and having your rear wheel hop a inch or two off track. Some people would call it exhilarating I don't. In fact I thought it was downright pee-your-pants scary. Thankfully I made it all the way down the mountain,with my pants unsoiled I might add.

This was on one of our more memorable rides. On top of the scary descents, it was 95 degrees in the shade. We climbed the toughest climbs in the Bay Area - Mines Road, the back side of Mt. Hamilton, Sierra Road and Calaveras Road. My heart rate monitor recorded a high temperature on the road of 116 degrees. That's tough sledding even without the gravel. We rode 110 miles, conquered the toughest climbs on one of the hottest days and we dodged some nasty boobytraps. All that was left to do is ride triumphantly back to the cars. One rider after another made the right turn into the parking lot. I was the last rider in the group. Did I mention it was a gravel parking lot? After all the near misses on Mt. Hamilton, I found a patch of gravel that was less forgiving. So like a dog running on a newly polished floor, my rear wheel slid out from under me and I hit the ground before I could even contemplate the gravity of the moment.

Unlike my previous crash where I had quite a bit of forward momentum along with gravity, I only had gravity to deal with. Fortunately I only had a scraped knee and arm along with a healthy dose of embarrassment. Death Ride is in two weeks. I must try to be more upright.

Can't Touch This
Speaking of Death Ride, I have to tell this story. Yesterday we were on our final difficult ride of our training, 93 miles, 7300 feet of climbing. We were riding in a group of 4. We were on a 15 mile stretch along Highway 1 heading north of Santa Cruz. We were maintaining a comfortable 23 mph paceline. Sue had just taken the lead when we saw about 300 yards ahead a triathlete rider. Let me say that in general, triathletes are pretty decent people. Most have been very courteous and cordial. However you occasionally come across tri-riders who have a very annoying habit. They are perfectly happy to hang on your wheel and let you do the pulling, but they never pull the paceline when it comes to their turn. This gentleman looked to be one of the latter types. Which brings me back to Sue. Sue is a middle-aged housewife. Most of her time is spent raising horses and helping with her husband's company. She probably weighs less than 100 pounds. She is just a very nice person. Well, Sue is in front of the group and we noticed that our pace is starting to pick up...23...24...25...26...27...27.5 mph. Sue smelled blood. Without any word from the rest of us she was bound and determined to reel the tri-guy in. The 300 yard gap was down to 100 yards in no time. Like a race horse that gets the bit in its teeth, Sue was flying, 50 yards and closing fast. At that point Sue realized that she couldn't pass him and maintain her speed. You see, you don't get any prestige points for passing someone and they subsequently pass you. If you pass someone, you have to let them know you're the badass on the bike that day. If you pass them only to have them pass you because you're spent, well then, you're just a dumbass. Sue recognized this and dropped off and said to me as I took over the lead, "Go get 'im". Of course, we got him. The group passed him with a courteous, "On your left" which is a roadie's equivalent to "Go find a bike trail, slow poke. " And you know what the tri-guy did next? He got onto the end of our paceline and let us pull him all the way to our turnoff miles down the road. He never took a pull...typical. Sue immediately earned the nickname "Hammer" because she showed when the time required it she could put the hammer down.

About the Raffle
Thank you to everyone that participated in the fundraising raffle. The big hits of the raffle were the autographed Team CSC jersey, the Chatom Vineyards chardonnay, (which got rave reviews from a winner) and a hand made quilt. These were among the 39 prizes given away. All-in-all the event was a big success. We raised close to $3000 for supporting Team in Training. To the people that read this update, Jill, Steve, Steve, Peggy, and Aunt Butch - you were all winners. I'll be contacting you with your prizes.

Death Ride in two weeks, France in four. July looks to be pretty busy.

Thanks for reading,
Steve

2008-06-12T22:10:00.000-07:00

The People Have Spoken
Okay, no more talk about the mid-life crisis, the votes are in. I'm not going to tour with Duran Duran, I do not want anything to do with Walt Disney's frozen head, I would very much like to drink tequila on a beach, but instead I'm going to do something ridonkulously hard. I, along with some friends from the Death Ride team, are going to France. Well the France part isn't that hard. I mean as long as you don't tell them you're an ugly American it's not. Not that they won't be able to spot me right off. Anyway, here's the deal. We will be riding 8 days in the Pyrenees from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. The Pyrenees are the mountains on the border between Spain and France. In the Tour de France the Pyrenees are known as the difficult mountains. They're steeper, higher and the weather tends to be hotter. Here's a quote from a professional cyclist Jonathan Vaughters:

"The Tourmalet and Hautacam are some of the toughest mountains ever paved. Conquered in a car, they are majestic and beautiful (as long as the engine doesn’t overheat), ridden on a bicycle, they are hell. Now maybe Rob will tell us he’s doing this precisely because those mountains are hell. You know, the ‘just to see if I can….’ idea. Well, sure, I can try to shave a fully clawed, feral cat, just to see if I can , but the question here is WHY?!"

The Tourmalet and Hautacam are two mountains we climb on day 7. Check out the link to the ride description. So we won't actually be riding in the Tour de France but we will be riding the same routes. It's going to be like fantasy baseball camp for cyclists. Except instead of playing in pretend games that are akin to a beer league softball game, we'll ride the actual routes the pros ride. I realize that it looks like there are better ways to spend your vacation, but hey, when these opportunities come along you just have to step up and take advantage. Life's short, I don't want a eulogy about how I didn't grab opportunities and do something extraordinary. So this will be different. If anyone wants to go on this ride, there are still spots open. I'll work on the other items on my list and I am open to a few more suggestions.

After this year's Death Ride we'll take a couple weeks rest and then pack up the bikes and head to the real mountains. So we will be there July 27th through August 6th. If anybody who reads this blog happens to be somewhere in the Pyrenees, I will be happy to buy the wine at dinner.

Tales from the Road

We've been riding our butts off this training season. I haven't written enough about our riding exploits. To catch you up - I have shaved my legs yet again. It's an annual ritual, kind of like the molting of a chicken. Except most chickens don't live that long to have too many moltings. Anyway I've got that clean shaved professional wrestler look to my legs. (I did not shave any thing else) One of my team mates, a guy, shaved his beard, head, and legs. Of course it was a guy, we don't have many women that have beards. Strike that, none of the women on the team have beards. In fact, the biggest treat about riding on the Death Ride team is you get to ride with some fantastically fit women. And they're nice people too.

Alright, back to the guy who shaved his head...that's a little too extreme and frankly a tad bit unnecessary. I have enough trouble keeping my hair in my head that I'm not about to shave it off. I have one of those stretchy bandanas that I wear under my helmet. It effectively give me the appearance of being completely bald, that is not a look I want to aspire to. In fact when I take my helmet off I look like a 6 foot 2 inch Q-tip. Just when I thought the ultra-revealing bike pants were enough indignity, they create these goofy skull caps. Sure I get the form over function bit, but couldn't they have at least put a design on there like some type of animal. At least then when I take my helmet off it would look like I had an animal on my head. Now that would be cool. Can you imagine the look of surprise if I took my helmet off and it looked like I had a raccoon or snake on my head?

BTW if you happen to be in the vicinity of Markleeville CA on July 12th, you can see some fit women and some bald men, a couple hairy dudes, and maybe a guy with a raccoon on his head. That's the date of the Death Ride, only a month away - yikes!

More Raffle Tickets
I'm still selling raffle tickets. Anyone interested in tickets, drop me an email. I can get them to you. If you haven't received yours yet, they're on their way. The raffle is on June 25th. If you're in the vicinity of the Sports Basement in Walnut Creek we will be hosting our raffle. Food and drinks will be provided. Also if you've purchased a raffle ticket you're entitled to 20% off any merchandise in the store. That's a huge bargain.

2008-05-20T20:32:00.000-07:00

The Saga Continues

So last time I wrote I said I was embarking on my mid-life crisis. I'm sure you've been waiting to hear just what sort of mid-life crisis suggestions have come in so far. Frankly I've been astounded by the number and diversity of suggestions. So without further ado, here are some of the suggestions:

- Get a perm and buy a Corvette.
- Write a book
- Start a tradition of doing something special each year with my kids
- Read Ulysses by James Joyce and tell my friends how smart I am
- Buy a dog
- Hike across the Atlantic
- Wrestle with an alligator
- Ride a stage of the Tour de France
- Quit my job and tour with Duran Duran all summer
- Become a roadie
- Get a hearing aid implant
- Get hair plugs
- Buy a 350Z
- Drink tequila while sitting on a beach in Costa Rica
- Ride my bike to the top of Haleakala
- Take an extreme adventure tour to New Zealand
- Fire a machine gun from a tripod in Las Vegas
- Go to the Super Bowl
- Try to relive Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas trip
- Open a bike shop
- Pick a fight in a biker bar
- Thaw Walt Disney's frozen head
- Visit all of the major league baseball parks
- Get a walk-on role on the Simpsons
- Buy two cats
- Climb to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro before global warming melts all the snow
- Rent a private island

Well that's a good start and there some on there that I have on my list and some that I really don't think I'll do. So I have a request, let me know which ones you think I should do. If you have a suggestion that's not on the list I'll entertain that. Send me an email at this link Click here to email me

About Those Rides
I had a request to do a write-up about some of the rides I've done. Apparently some readers have taken exception to my creative digressions. So I figure I can give you an update about this year's training regimen. The Death Ride team has been busting its collective butts to train. We did some epic rides this season. The most recent was a ride called Big Basin. Big Basin is a 110 mile 11,000' monster of a ride. We start in Mountain View ride over to Stevens Creek Reservoir, climb a ridonkulously steep road called Redwood Gulch and then ride over to a state park called Big Basin. The ride is remarkable for its redwood-lined roads. After Big Basin we climb over to a small town called Boulder Creek, Bonny Doon, Boulder Doon, or Bonny Creek, after the climb I couldn't much remember. If that wasn't fun enough, we then proceeded to make a 3 mile climb up the side of a cliff. This road called, Jamison Creek, has to be one of the steepest roads on the peninsula. This road hits pitches of over 20%. You know it's 20% because when you ride up it, you have to lean over your handlebars to keep your front wheel from coming off the ground. Once we climbed over that we had to ride 20 miles into the wind along Highway 1 up to Pescadero. As if that wasn't enough fun. After fighting the hurricane blasts along the coast, we turned inland for 9 miles of climbing back over to Mountain View.

This marks the fourth century ride in as many weeks and we still have 8 weeks to go. What strikes me is how determined this year's team is. I've been amazed at the amount of pain people are willing to endure to finish the ride and to be there for their teammates. We've had 5 crashes this season, the previous two we had none. One person had a broken wrist but has since returned. Only one dropped due to an injury but that's because he broke four ribs. Three women crashed on the ride before Big Basin. Two straightened out their bikes and completed the second half of the ride, the third couldn't continue because she tore through her shorts.

Another amazing teammate is one of our honorees, Grace. She's one year removed from chemotherapy and when other women may choose to settle down, she's out there climbing every hill with her teammates. Truly an example of incredible spirit and will. If you ever get the chance, you should meet some of these people. Their stories are inspiring.

You can see some of the pictures by going to my Picasa web albums

Big Basin

Thanks for reading. If you do not wish to receive these updates, drop me an email and I won't darken your inbox. If you like them, then drop me an email or go to the blog to leave a comment.

If you want to hear from some of the teammates, check out this entry from another blog

2008-04-24T22:02:00.000-07:00

Hello again everyone,

I couldn't believe the response from my last update. Apparently I've become a one man marketing department for my nutrition coach, Kim. I had several inquiries about her services. If anyone wants to contact her I'll happily pass along her email address and number.

It's A Big One
This week, although I could write about my recent 120 mile ride, I'm going to write about something we all can relate to. I had my birthday last Sunday. It was traumatic.

This is a birthday I've been dreading for a long time. Right now you're thinking he must have had one of those birthdays that end in a zero (or zed for the european readers). Actually no. Despite my scale saying otherwise, I can't escape the chronological fact reflected on my drivers license. I turned 49 on Sunday.

At this point many of you are saying, "Big Deal" (sarcastically of course) others are saying "I've been there" and still others are saying "I'm not reading any farther". Well it was a big deal, in the non-sarcastic sense, to me. I've always looked at 49 as worse than 50. I provided an example to a friend the other day, you see when you fall off a cliff it's the fall that's scary, you don't remember the end. Similarly it's the approach to 50 that's traumatic and passing over is anti-climactic. So I'm in a bit of a funk over it.

A had a conversation with a psychologist last year about turning older. No, I'm not seeing a psychologist, it was just a casual conversation. I told her that what I was looking forward to was having a midlife crisis. At the time I said I was hoping to get a better car. She laughed and told me that I may not have one - a mid-life crisis that is. What! My whole life I've been conditioned to believe that when you got to certain age you get to have a mid-life crisis. Here she is telling me that I may not be so lucky. Now, I'm 49 and I'm worried that I won't have one at all.

She matter-of-factly pointed out that a mid-life crisis is a realization that the dreams and aspirations you had when you were younger do not the match the reality that you are experiencing today. And when you get to that point, you either fight it or accept it. That made me depressed. Here I was hoping for a good irrational reason to get a new car and lo and behold I may not be so lucky. She also went on to say that I didn't seem like the type that had any dream or aspirations when I was younger, so I couldn't be disappointed. She went on to say that I was probably happy with the fact that I wasn't in jail or sleeping under a highway overpass. Wait! What? What's she talking about? I have dreams all the time. Why the other night I had a really great one, but it's probably not appropriate to mention it here. At this point, if I realized if I were to see a psychologist, I certainly wouldn't see her.

Here's my dilemma. I actually don't need a car. So that's out. But I'm looking for suggestions for what I should do to commemorate my mid-life crisis (potentially) Drop me an email with your suggestion. I'll peruse the ones that sound best and maybe publish them. If you want to relate your experience I'd like to hear that too. If you want to just drop a line, well that would be great as well. Click on the link here steve's email

I'm Still Raising Funds for TnT
I still have plenty of raffle tickets for sale. My friend Betty Bennett donated a case of award winning wine from Chatom Vineyards. This 2005 Chardonnay won gold medals at the California State Fair and the Orange County Fair. So if you were worried about winning bike stuff, there's a very cool gift for you. If you want to buy tickets, drop me an email at the link above. I'll send you the directions to make the purchase.

2008-03-31T20:54:00.000-07:00

Enough with the fat already
Welcome back to another scintillating update about my adventures in cycling and raising funds to fight cancer. Over the past three years many of you have read my tales of cycling challenges and mishaps. Since many of the folks that read this update do not, will not, and never plan to get on a bicycle they can barely relate to the absurdity of the experiences. Well today I decided to write about an absurd experience that many, if not all of us, can relate to... dieting.

For the past three years I've always made it a challenge to lose weight to get in shape to do the Death Ride. You see it's a simple physical fact that the more you weigh, the more work you have to do to get your bulk over 5 mountains. I was always envious of the 150 pound guys that glided by to finish hours ahead of me. Sure I thought about pelting them with the Ding Dongs or Twinkies I happened to be eating at the time, but my mom taught me never to waste food. Heck, I was envious of the 190 pound guys.

Every year I would start my Death Ride preparation with the all important diet. My approach to dieting is very sophisticated - eat less, exercise more. I figure if I simply increased my expenditures and decreased my intake, that the balance would take care of itself. Unfortunately I applied this approach to my money management philosophy and had disastrous results. If such an approach worked on cash it could certainly work on fat. So I carefully measured out what I ate. I was a regular consumer of low fat salad dressing, diet sodas, fish, vegetables, etc. When that didn't yield the results I was looking for, I tried various published diets like Atkins, Fatkins, South Beach, North Beach, and China Beach and they all helped me reduce weight but they all had their limitations.

It seems there was a weight that I could not get beyond - 200 pounds (or as l like to think about it, one tenth of a ton) I would lose weight to get to 201 but it never seemed to last. I'd get close and a few weeks later I'd be back up to 208. Which reminds me, why is it so hard to lose weight when you can easily gain 2 or 3 pounds in a weekend. Clearly this is the dieter's curse. Anyway, I felt like Chuck Yeager trying to break the sound barrier, only it was my pound barrier. I wrote last year about my fancy scale that tells me how old I am based on my height, weight, and body fat percentage. It has never been a friendly scale. To refresh your memory, or to save you the time of looking it up, my scale would tell me that I was in my 50s when clearly my drivers license told me otherwise. So I never got much slimmer and I never got any younger.

This year I took a more reasonable approach, I asked for help. I was so determined to break the pound barrier that I hired a nutrition coach. My coach, Kim, is as fine an individual as you'll ever meet. Just don't be caught eating junk food around her, then you'll catch hell. Kim is a certified nutritionist and a coach for professional bike racers. Her specialty is helping brides-to-be lose weight to get into their wedding dresses. I figured she was perfect for me.

The first thing Kim did is she had me keep a diary of everything I ate and drank. (I was thankful she didn't do an analysis of my...ahem...leavings... that apparently costs a lot extra.) Then after a week of detailed food tracking she took the information, entered into some fancy analysis program and scheduled a review.

We met at a restaurant for lunch. I ordered my usual fare of a sandwich and an ice tea. Over lunch she proceeded to explain that I really shouldn't be eating the junk I ordered for lunch. I felt shame, so did the waitress. Kim's words are still ringing in my ears -- she said, "You are on what I call a high-calorie starvation diet." Pretty much everything I ate was wrong. I learned that my morning bagels, afternoon coffee, occasional energy drinks, diet sodas, dinners of pasta and various meats with occasional vegetables, were effectively a high-calorie melange of crap.

Then she told me the most unusual news. I needed to start eating like my ancestors. I don't mean eating outside in the dirt. That's probably going too far back in my lineage. Of course my mom will tell you that her ancestors never ate in the dirt...but I digress. What she meant was that I should stop eating processed food and poor quality meats. So my diet went from the supposedly healthy habits of eating diet this and low-cal that to eating natural things like food cooked with butter. I went from drinking non-fat cappuccinos to drinking them with whole milk. She even let me eat bacon! Wonderful bacon! The one thing she did have me eliminate was gluten. Gluten comes in all forms of wheat products like bread and pasta.

One would think that with a diet of natural fats, fresh vegetables, and meat without antibiotics that I wouldn't fare better than previous diets. I'm pleased to say that the coach knows what she's talking about. On March 22nd, much like Chuck Yeager, I broke the pound barrier and I'm finally below 200 pounds. I still have a way to go, but considering that a couple years ago I was at a whopping 230 pounds, I'm happy to be headed in the right direction. Want to know all about the diet? Drop me a line and I'll tell you everything I know and refer you to Kim if you're interested.

So check out the picture of my fancy scale. The number you see is the age that my scale says I am. Of course the first picture I took was taken from too high and you would see too much Steve and not enough scale. Here is the PG version of the picture. And I know, those are some good looking feet.

About those raffle tickets
I still have plenty of tickets available and we're getting new stuff in the raffle. Check out the awards at this link http://www.impactzone.com/DeathRide2008Raffle/ Of the many cool entries there is a priceless handmade quilt. So if you're interested in raffle tickets contact me at my gmail address. If you have an item to donate you can also drop me a line. steve.asche@gmail.com

2008-03-12T20:46:00.000-07:00

Back in the Game
Well it took me a while to get back on the bike, but with some trepidation and a significant outlay of cash I've completed two rides. I was off the bike for two weeks and wasn't in too much hurry to get back on. Fortunately my son, Rob, came to the rescue.

For his birthday he wanted to do something he'd never done before. This is a typical birthday request since the kids were young. Usually we go someplace to see something new. For this birthday he said he wanted to ride his bike to the top of Mt. Diablo with his ol' pop (i.e. me) Well this presented a bit of a dilemma since it was only a little over a week after the crash. Of course, I did the only responsible thing - I said "What time are we rolling?"

So two weeks after the crash, on a very cold and windy morning, I donned my trusty Cal cycling jersey, my son wore his Lucky Bicycles jersey, we started our assault on Mt. Diablo. I'm sure the emergency room doctor that treated me after the crash would have voiced a bit of displeasure. Nonetheless, family before fate, we clicked in and started our ride.

The first thing I realized was that I was hyper-aware of every pothole, crack, and bump in the road. I found that I was gripping the handlebars a little tighter than usual. Maybe the cars passing by would take my mind off of the expectation of crashing... nope that doesn't work either.

So the lad and I started talking about assorted topics from his ne'er-do-well friends, summer jobs, and cycling. Before long we were on the lower slopes of the mountain and we were joined by my friend Kim. Kim said my crash scars looked to be healing well and we talked about how well Rob was riding. Kim said that it looked like Rob could pretty much "clean my clock" on a climb. She said, I should be thankful he doesn't challenge me to race for another Xbox. (Rob beat me once up a hill by our house a couple years ago and I had to buy him an Xbox as a payoff to a boastful fatherly claim.)

Kim left us at the halfway point while Rob and I continued to the top. Along the steep upper mountain, I told Rob that you only need to focus on the next turn or waypoint. That way you don't get bogged down with thinking about the monumental task ahead of you. Before we knew it, we were cresting the summit of the mountain. My wife Sherri, our daughter Emily and Emily's boyfriend Jimmy met us at the top with a picnic lunch. As we sat in the chilly wind, I realized that all the trepidation I had was forgotten. So my son got his birthday wish and I was back in the saddle. That was a pretty good way to get back on top.

So How About Some Raffle Tickets?
As I mentioned in previous emails, I'm raising money for the team by selling raffle tickets. We're giving away some very cool prizes - handheld computers, dinners, bike paraphernalia, lubricant, and even meat! Check it out I'm not joking http://www.impactzone.com/DeathRide2008Raffle/
If you'd like donate something or if you want to buy tickets drop me an email to this address .

2008-02-18T11:34:00.000-08:00

Touching the Floor
The cycling season started off with a bang this weekend. Well, actually, if you want to simulate the sound of a bike crash, take a drawer full of silverware and drop it on your patio. Then follow that with your favorite exclamation of pain. Professional riders in the Tour de France refer to crashing as "touching the floor". In pretty much every situation, you do not want to touch the floor.

I touched the floor this Saturday. And not some casual slip where you lose control and end up in the bushes crash, a genuine smack-into-the-asphalt-end-up-in-the-emergency-room crash. If I were a car, I'd have probably burst into flames. Thankfully, I did not spontaneously combust on impact.

We were near the end of our 55 mile ride. I was traveling along a flat road. I was in the bike lane but I wanted to turn left at the upcoming intersection. I had my right hand on the handlebars and I was looking over my left shoulder at the traffic coming from behind. At that moment, my front wheel hit a bump in the pavement, which caused me to pitch forward. Since I only had one hand on the handle bars, when I pitched forward the right hand pushed my wheel sharply to the left. Since bikes do not roll very well when one wheel is perpendicular to the direction of travel, my momentum flipped me right over the handlebars and onto my shoulder, arm, face, hip, and knee. I actually don't remember this part of the accident.

The first thing I remember is lying on the ground and having several people talking at me. I could think of three things - "I have to get home because we have dozens of people coming over for a party.", "How's my bike, I just need to get up and walk around to feel better.", "Why is somebody pushing his thumb into my temple?"

The next thing I know a couple paramedics are talking to me. "Where'd they come from?" They asked my name; I remembered it. They asked what day it was; I knew that too. They asked me where I was; I said "I was lying in the street somewhere and can I please get up I have a party to host. " They said, "no, you're going to the emergency room." (party-poopers)

My wife, Sherri, had decided to take an alternate way home from the store after picking up 3 bags of ice for the party. Quite coincidentally, she came upon the scene of my accident shortly after it happened. She was a little dismayed by the scene. From her description, it sounded like a scene from a Dracula Gone Wild film. Apparently, there was quite a bit of blood on me and on the pavement. I can only suspect it was my blood since I doubt anyone came along and threw blood on me like some PETA protester would do. Since I wasn't wearing a fur bike jersey, it's safe to conclude it was mine. Apparently when I crashed, absorbing the blow with the right side of my face, my sunglasses hit first, cracked, and put deep gash right above my right temple. It occurred to me later, "That's why someone was putting his thumb in my temple earlier; he was trying to stop the bleeding."

The fine folks in the emergency room attended to my cuts and scrapes. They firmly washed the road rash and took a wire bristled brush, that's used for removing loose paint from your walls, and scrubbed any bits of asphalt from my wounds. I didn't actually see the brush they used, but from my tactile experience, it could only have been a steel brush or a small bed of nails. The fine doctor cleaned the gash in my head, sutured me up and had me cool my heels for a bit.

While I was in the ER with Sherri by my side, people were showing up at our house for the potluck we were hosting. Sherri called our son, Rob, and asked him to be the party host.
Every chance I got, I told the ER folks that I had to get to a party. They made some sympathetic comment, and as soon as they got out of earshot, they said, "he needs to stay another 45 minutes. " By the time we got home, the party was over and the guests were gone. Rob had set aside a couple plates of food in case we were hungry. Well I certainly was and I appreciated it.

The next day I took my broken bike to the shop to repair the broken handle bars and to check it for any structural cracks. Of course I had to get new helmet too, since my old one had done its job and was now ready to be retired. Let's see broken handlebars, new brake lever hoods, new tape, new jersey, new bibs... $$$! I also went to the scene of the accident. The bump is nothing more than a 4 or 5 inch bump in the bike lane caused by a nearby tree root. Any other time, I'd just roll over it. But when your not focused on the road, it's enough of a deviation to put you on the floor.

If you want to see the pictures, go to http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/

About those Raffle Tickets
After my last update, several people asked about getting raffle tickets. Here's what you need to do. You send me a check made out to me. I will send you raffle tickets and a receipt from Team in Training thanking you for your donation and verifying that your contribution was to a charitable cause. If you'd like to make a donation, contact me at steve asche if you'd like to see what's being given away, go to Death Ride Fundraising Raffle.

2008-02-11T21:36:00.000-08:00

Third time's a charm
It's the middle of winter, all the trees are bare. Well except for the pine trees, that is. So while everyone else is participating in winter activities like snow skiing, staying out of the cold, working on their needlepoint, and going to hockey games, I'm doing - what else - riding my bike. Once again I'm back training with the fine folks at Team in Training for another go at the Death Ride. (For those of you new to my updates, this is my third year of doing the Death Ride with Team in Training. I've done the Death Ride, a 129 mile bike ride that climbs over 5 mountain passes in one day, to raise money to fight blood cancers.) Before I get to this year's quest, let me catch you up since the last update.

$4,116 dollars raised, 4,300 miles ridden
Last year I made a promise to ride 100 miles for every $100 donated. You contributed $4,116 and by December 31st, I had ridden 4,300 miles. Along the way I climbed over 300,000 feet or over 60 miles straight up. I had some really great rides after the Death Ride. The most notable was riding with my son, Robert, as he completed his first century ride. We did the Foxy's Fall Century in Davis. I was the proud father when after he completely bonked at mile 60, he rallied after having something to eat and he finished the ride.
Here he is at the last rest stop at mile 90.

I also had some great rides with my TnT friends. Check out this view of the vineyards in Sonoma County. Pretty incredible scenery in those parts. Of course that happened to be the same ride where I was riding down hill right after taking this picture and I had a bee fly into my helmet. Before I could stop and remove my helmet, the bee stung me in the head. Fortunately I'm not allergic but the side of my face hurt for over a week. I ended up having to take antibiotics before the swelling dissipated. Despite the bee interlude, it was a pretty good season. With the dwindling bee population I would have thought my chances of getting stung would have decreased. I had two stings last year - one down the shirt and one in the helmet.

So now I'm back at it. I'm going to start clogging you mailboxes with my chatter about rides, being overweight, my teammates, idiot drivers, and my quest to fight cancer. This year is a little different than past years. Instead of raising money as a participant or mentor, I'm actually a captain on the team. (I have no idea why they call us captains.) My responsibility is to help the team come together and help them attain their fundraising goals. So instead of focusing on my personal goal, I'm focused on helping my team. One of the way I'm helping my team is by doing fundraising to feed the team. As it turns out, the TnT folks provide some money to offset the cost of food for the riders as they do their training rides. That's money that can be better applied to funding cancer research and victim support. So instead of relying on the TnT folks to pay for the participants' support, the team coaches and captains are going to raise money by selling raffle tickets. All of the proceeds go to support the team. Any excess money goes to the leukemia and lymphoma society.

You Can Win Big with TnT
So here's the offer: several local businesses and restaurants have donated awards for our raffle. It's really cool stuff too. We have dinners at Bridges, Forbes Mill, Piatti, a mobile computer from Socket Mobile, several bicycling related gifts and more to come. Here's how you can help. If you would like to donate a good or service to the raffle that would be fantastic, if you'd like to buy some tickets - their $1 each or 25 for $20. To see what's being raffled go to http://www.impactzone.com/DeathRide2008Raffle/ if you want to buy tickets, then email me steve asche Tell me how many tickets you want, send me a check and I will send you as many tickets as you buy. This will really help the team. It's also a chance to win some pretty cool stuff.

So that's it for this week. If you no longer wish to receive these emails, let me know.

Thanks
Steve

2007-07-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

An Exercise in Humility
The dictionary defines "hubris" as "overbearing self-confidence, arrogance". Shakespeare often wrote about protagonists that had hubris and became victims of their own arrogance. Well I don't know if it was a case of hubris, but this year's Death Ride was a humbling experience - to put it mildly.

I came to this year's ride having trained more than I'd done before. I lost 20 pounds in the process and I was riding exceptionally well. I conquered the last few training rides with energy to spare. On each ride I finished strong and felt great. The training was right, the weather was right, all signs pointed to a ride where I'd easily beat my previous times. I'd ridden the route 4 times before, so I knew exactly what to expect.

The day started cool at 5:20am. I started well, keeping my heart rate below 140 beats per minute. I climbed the first pass in an hour and 20 minutes, 10 minutes better than last year. Things were going well, though something didn't feel quite right. I attributed it to the lack of sleep the night before, having had only three hours of sleep.

The ride down Monitor Pass to Topaz Lake was spectacular for its scenery. It's still breathtaking to see, as the sun was low in the morning sky. As I headed down, I saw many of the people that had left at 4am making their way back up. I thought I'd likely catch them on the next pass. At the bottom of the pass I refilled my water bottles. I filled my bottle from a cooler; I looked in and it was brownish colored liquid that looked like iced tea. I asked the volunteer what it was and he said it was Cytomax. At this point I should have dumped it out and refilled it with plain water. I resisted dumping it out because my water bottle had ice in it and the water at that rest stop had no ice. Since I knew it was going to be warm, I thought it would be better to have the cold liquid than the air temperature water that they had. So I left the rest stop with a bottle of Perpetuem and a bottle of Cytomax.

Not too long after I began climbing I felt sharp pains in my intestines. Every time I pushed my heart rate over 150 beats per minute or I drank water, I'd get another bout of intestinal cramps. I figured once I got to the top, that the problem would go away. I rode to the top of the second pass, but it took 20 minutes longer than I had expected. That clearly wasn't right. I was riding with one of my teammates, Janet, and said I really needed to stop at the top, since I wasn't feeling well. I made a couple trips to the port-a-potties at the top of the climb. Janet asked if I was okay, I said "no, but it should be okay" I went to fill my water bottle and realized that only a quarter of it was gone. Since the water/cytomax was causing my intestinal cramps, I unthinkingly drank too little water.

I thought since I replaced the water in the bottles, that I should be okay. We made it over to Ebbett's pass. Ebbett's is an 8 mile climb, the last 6 are fairly steep. But it was nothing I hadn't handled in the past. At the bottom of Ebbett's I made another stop to see if I could quell the intestinal cramping. I drank some water and packed my water bottles with ice. I thought, I could still recover.

As I started climbing the 6 mile climb on Ebbett's things started going slower and slower. In previous rides I'd climb it at 6mph or greater. I was lucky to get my speed over 4mph. Every time I pushed, it set off another set of stomach cramps. So I kept my speed low and pedaled on. If the stomach cramps weren't enough, the first leg cramps hit with about 3 miles to go to the top. To keep things in check I went slower trying not to push too hard and trying to keep the heart rate down. I made it over the top at 12:45. I was an hour behind schedule.

I made to the other side of Ebbett's and turned around to climb the fourth pass. When I'm rested I can do the fourth climb in 45 minutes. In previous years it took an hour. I was not that lucky. It took over two hours to climb the fourth pass. Several times I had leg cramps in both legs from my thighs down to my calves. By the time I made it over Ebbetts and back towards Markleeville, I was two hours behind schedule. I knew that I had a four mile and a seven mile climb ahead of me to make the last cut off. I couldn't push more than 3 miles an hour uphill. I realized that even standing initiated another round of cramps. At that point, I hit my lowest point and had to call it a day. There was no miraculous five pass recovery. There's a saying that goes, "sometimes you master the mountain, sometimes the mountain masters you." Today, the mountain won.

After the ride, I just wanted to rehydrate and keep from cramping. So I sat at the end of the ride and applauded as the other teammates came in to the finish. It was great to watch fellow team members finish their grueling test.

That night Sherri and I went to a quiet dinner, where I was considerably less than ebullient. I went to bed and woke up at 2am. The day's events played over in my head as I lay in the quiet room. In the morning, Sherri woke up and asked how I slept. I told her I didn't. She said, "I know it's bugging you; why don't you go finish it today after breakfast." I thought, that's not the same. But I realized, that I can't change the past anyway, so I might as well prove to myself that I could do it.

Unfinished Business
So after our farewell breakfast with my teammates, Sherri and I drove 25 miles from South Lake Tahoe to Markleeville and I picked up where I left off. I got on my bike and my muscles immediately objected. It was as if they were saying, "We need to rest, why are you doing this to us?" I didn't listen and the tightness and aches worked themselves out.

Unlike the day before, there were no other riders out there. I was the only rider on the road that day. I rode past the general store and the courthouse lawn, where the crowds were the day before, only to get a few curious stares from customers at the store. I rode past the empty campgrounds at Turtle Rock Park, where a few workers were cleaning up the refuse from the previous day. I rode past the rest areas at Woodfords and Pickett's Junction where the only person cheering me on was my wife as she waited for me to pass. I rode all the way to the top of Carson Pass. At the very top of the pass, I rode by a couple that were out for a hike. The woman asked if had done the Death Ride the day before. I told her I had. She asked, "Well, why are you riding today?" And before I could answer, the man said, "He's just doing it for himself." He couldn't have been more right. I waved and rode off, completing my "extended" Death Ride.

I was watching the Tour de France last night as I saw a race favorite, Michael Rogers, go from leading the race to having an untimely spill, to having to completely abandon the race. Like with other Death Rides, I learned a valuable lesson. With this ride I learned that even though you plan everything right, something can always go wrong. As part of the fight against Leukemia and Lymphoma, I've heard of patients the same age, fighting the same disease where one goes into remission and the other doesn't survive. Sometimes it's just not your day. Not that my experience is equivalent, but the lesson I learned is that I should always be humble and thankful for what I accomplish.

Thank you for enduring my blog updates and thank you for supporting me and my fundraising this year. I'll hope to do the Death Ride again. I'll keep you posted of my campaigns and challenges. But I promise that I'll never take anything for granted. Visit my blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/

2007-07-10T22:17:00.001-07:00

I got more than a few disappointed emails when readers went to see my walnut crushing exploits only to find out it was a cheap ploy to get people to the fundraising site. Okay, I admit it was an underhanded act on my part. I apologize profusely and will figure out the walnut crushing exploits at a later date. In the meantime, I have another Death Ride to do. That's right, I've completed my fundraising. Thanks to everyone who has sponsored me. You've contributed $3,891 towards fighting Leukemia and Lymphoma. Thank you very much.

I am still committed to riding a mile for every dollar raised. I've ridden over 2,800 miles so far and will continue to ride until I exceed the fundraising amount. I capped the limit at the fundraising deadline a couple weeks ago, but it may be the wine talking here, if anyone wants to make a last minute donation I'll gladly ride those miles too. Here's the donation site http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche

Quick Like a Bunny
I had an interesting experience tonight. I was on my ride home from work along Squirrel Alley and a jack rabbit decided to race me along the trail. He hopped alongside me about 10 feet to my right and kept pace with me for about 75 yards. I don't know whether he's fast or I'm fast but it was pretty cool to have a rabbit matching my speed for a long way. I don't know whether he was doing it to impress his friends or he was trying to get at me. Either way it was pretty cool.

Am I Nervous? Heck yeah, I'm Nervous
I've been watching the weather report for the mountains and it's supposed to be pretty hot on Saturday. It's bad enough to have to deal with the effects of gravity, heat is my other enemy. So I've been drinking gallons of water and have been trying to build up water stores like a camel. I'm sure I'll have a mighty hump by the time of the ride. There's so much that can go wrong that it's hard not to thing about it. My wife is going crazy because I have to double check everything just to make sure I don't forget a critical piece of clothing or supplies. I also have to adjust my sleep patterns so I can get up rested at 3:45am on Saturday morning.

And now for something completely different
On a recent ride someone had just took a long turn at the front of our paceline. A pace line for the non-riders is a line of cyclists following close behind each other. Each rider takes a turn at the front, "a pull", drops off and lets another rider take over the front. The first rider goes to the back of the pace line. The pulling and dropping off continues as long as they stay in the pace line. Anyway, as the first rider dropped off and was heading to the back of the line, the riders that passed him said "Thanks for the long pull". At that moment, as happens often, the expression struck me as somewhat - shall we say...naughty. It's certainly not an expression you'd hear in common discussion. I made this observation to the rest of the group and we came up with other cycling expressions that sound dirty, but aren't. So here they are in no particular order.

Thanks for the pull
You were really hammering
You shouldn't twist your nipples more than a quarter turn at a time
You should lube your chain
Did you butter your shorts?
You should put some lube on your post before inserting it in the seat tube

The Death Ride Cometh
I've ridden a bunch climbed a bunch and have tried to get every edge in my favor. Now all that's left to do is ride it. Apparently, according to one of my teammates he thinks I have it in the bag. This picture was taken after a relaxing beer at the end of one our rides. Stay tuned for my post after the ride.

2007-06-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

Greetings again. Time for another installment of My Latest Challenge 2.0 - my continuing quest to punish my body on a bicycle while raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. My fundraising deadline is coming up, so let's go to the tote board to see how I'm doing against my goal of riding a mile for every dollar raised. I've raised $3,541 and I've ridden 2,200 miles. The good news is I still have plenty of riding to do but the fundraising deadline June 22nd. That means if you want to punish me through the summer, you need to get your donation in. Simply go to my fundraising site and make a donation.

I realized I tend to get cranky in my updates. I usually complain about some transgression from squirrels and motorists. This update I'll refrain from focusing on the negative experiences, like one particular idiot motorist on Mt. Diablo a couple days ago, and I'll focus on some of the positive effects.

First, riding over 2000 miles in a few months really tones up your legs and buttocks. Seriously, who doesn't like toned buttocks? "They" say that you can strengthen your buttocks so much that you can actually crack walnuts between your butt-cheeks. I have to say, this claim has always intrigued me. So I decided to see whether one could actually crush walnuts between one's butt-cheeks. Getting the walnuts is the easy part. The hard part is finding a person actually willing to test this claim. I figured all the women on the team were out of the question. I couldn't bring myself to actually ask any of them whether they would attempt to crush a walnut with their butt cheeks. Something tells me they may not take that request in the scientific vein it was offered. Though I'm sure some of them are "walnut crushing fit."

So that leaves the guys on the team. It didn't take very long for me to realize, that I couldn't ask the guys on the team either. That left only two possible courses of action - I would try to sneak a walnut onto their bike seat just as they were about to sit down. This seemed like a brilliant plan. There were only a few problems with it. What if they couldn't actually crush the walnut? They might react with stunned surprise. Have you ever noticed how sharp walnut shells are? What if they crushed the walnuts only to cut themselves on the shells. Again, their reaction towards me may be less than friendly.

Clearly, my only option was to personally put this theory to the test. While I was at it, I decided to determine other crush-worthy items - grapes, marshmallows, oreo cookies, and ping pong balls to name a few. If you want to learn the results of the walnut crushing experiments you have to go here.

Pretty surprising, huh? The things we do in the name of science.

Continuing with my positive attitude, I have to give props to my teammates. I have to say it has been a pleasure riding with such a diverse group of people. We have business owners, surgeons, dentists, nurses, epidemioligists, educators, students, nurses, and anesthetists. All of them are focused on the same goal - fighting cancer and riding farther and climbing higher than they've ever done before. If you're not busy on July 14th and happen to be around the town of Markleeville, you should head over to highway 88 and check these folks out as they make their way up Carson Pass. You'll be inspired as regular folks grind their way up a grueling climb. They'll appreciate the support.

Check out the blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/ and visit the fundraising site. Next update will be after our next two gut wrenching rides.

Steve

2007-05-22T08:57:00.000-07:00

Greetings from afar,

Since my last update, I've been to Mexico, Atlanta, and I'm sending this update from Las Vegas. Only one trip, Mexico was for pleasure. It's been nearly a month since my last update, so there's a lot to cover. Of course, I'm still raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. If you're interested in joining me in this fight - that is by sponsoring me - please go to my fundraising site at http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche

Traveling and Training Don't Mix
So I was in Mexico for a week. My wife, Sherri, and I spent a week in Cabo San Lucas. Fortunately they offered spinning classes at the resort where we were staying. Spinning is an interesting exercise experience. If you've never taken a spinning class, you should try it out. You get to spend an hour on a fancy stationary bike while a super-fit instructor yells at the class to put more resistance on the bike and pedal faster. The objective of the instructor is to get you as close as possible to puking. People actually pay for this experience!

I told the instructor that I was training for the Death Ride - or in Spanish the "paseo de la muerte". He said if I wanted a real death ride, I should try riding the streets of Mexico. Apparently it's every vehicle and pedestrian for themselves. I saw a total of three cylists in the week we were there. All the other people were apparently smarter than these three. But that's generally the opinion of most motorists of cyclists.

When I got back from Mexico I did a couple rides to get back into the swing of things. Burritos and margaritas are not ideal training foods. The first few rides were quite miserable. It's been reported that Lance Armstrong used to weigh all his food to make sure he did not eat too much. It's amazing how a few extra burritos can add extra pounds.

A donation! A donation! My office for a donation!
Unlike Richard III who did not actually give up his kingdom for a horse, I gave up my office at work for a fundraising sponsorship. Here's the background. We have a shortage of offices with doors where I work. Besides my boss, I was the only employee in our department that had an office. We were hiring a new director of communications who needed a space where he could have confidential communications. So my boss came to me and asked if I'd be willing to give up my office. I said that I would, but that I noticed that neither he nor the incoming director had sponsored my fundraising yet. I said that I was counting on them to "do the right thing." Well I was expecting a nominal donation. I was blown away when my boss popped for a $1000 donation. I thanked him for the generous donation, and he said he was glad to do it. He also reminded me that $1000 means another 1000 training miles. And just when I thought I was catching up.

Since the office for sponsorship deal worked so well, I'm considering other goods and services I can offer in exchange for donations. Here are some of the items I'm willing to exchange for donations - my parking space, the opportunity to rename my cat, an autographed picture of me on a particularly grueling road, a package of power gel (so you can experience what cyclists eat), my old bike shorts (actually worn by me). If you want to sponsor me in exchange for any of these fabulous items, then I'll count on you to "do the right thing." http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche

The Miles Keep Adding Up
I was doing so well. I had the mileage goal in easy striking distance. Currently I have trained 1546 miles and have raised $3291. I'm not complaining about the donation, but this is turning into a difficult task. I'm holding to my promise though. I've been riding over 200 miles a week. I'm going to try and get it up to 300 miles per week. That will help immensely. Over the next three weeks I expect to climb over 45,000 feet and log 500 miles.

Stay tuned. The rides just keep getting more difficult. Thanks for your support.

Steve

2007-04-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

Hello again,

I'm back online and writing about my crusade against cancer. As you all know, I'm riding the Death Ride this July in an effort to raise money to fight blood cancers. Anyone wishing to support my cause should visit my fundraising page at http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche
There you will learn that I'm raising money in memory of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin. If you want to read about my misguided adventures, then visit my blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/

"I am super clever"
If you've been following my updates, you'll know that I pledged to ride 100 miles for every $100 raised. Well I'm pleased to say that I'm finally getting ahead of the curve. Since my last update I've ridden over 340 miles but the fundraising was about $225. So I picked up over 100 miles on my deficit. So how do I do it, I started riding my bike to and from work. That allows me to add another 27 training miles each day. If I do that 4 times a week, I've added 108 miles. That's on top of the training on the weekend. So I will easily match the pledges. As one of my French friends would say, "Ha Ha - you are super clever" For some reason, he peppers his statements with lots of "Ha Ha"s. I'd say it's a French thing but none of my other French friends talk like that.

Anyway, I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself. I'm finally gaining ground. The only thing that could possibly spoil my "super clever" plan is to get a large influx of donations. If you're so inclined to make me more miserable - go to my donation page.

Well at least his seat got cleaned
Speaking of miserable, last week we had our first seriously wet ride. The weather report said rain and possible thunderstorms. What it didn't mention was the wind. So we endured gale force winds and cold rain. Well if it doesn't destroy us, it must be making us stronger. There is a rider on our team, who will remain nameless. (And I'm not talking about myself) . He claims "his wife" washed his bike shorts with too much detergent. This detergent was still in the chamois. For non-riders, the chamois is the padding in the bike shorts. Eventhough it's called a chamois it's often made from other non-animal materials. Anyway, you take the combination of water, as provided in copious amounts of rain, plus the aforementioned detergent; add the agitating motion of moving your legs back and forth and you get, what else, suds. Not just a little residue, but full-on bubble bath type suds. Imagine coming up behind another cyclist and seeing suds coming from his seat. You'd think the person had rabies, with the exception that he didn't exactly have a foaming mouth. I guess the a name for this condition could be "hemorrabies"

Ah nuts!
As I mentioned I started riding my bike to work. I have a whole new appreciation for the people that ride their bikes to work. They have to endure the worst traffic behavior. I've only ridden a few days and I've been honked at twice, cut off a few times and I had to "thread the needle" between two cars that were trying to occupy the same space. The next time you see someone riding to work, you should tip your hat to them. They're dealing with some real nuts out there.

Speaking of nuts, I'm happy to report that the kamikaze squirrels have returned. I thought since I have a new place of work, hence a new riding route, that I was done with the little nutjobs. Instead, part of my ride from work passes squirrel town. Only this time they brought some bigger friends. The other day I was almost upended by a jack rabbit. For crying out loud, why's a jack rabbit hanging out with squirrels in the first place. What's next? ducks? cows? So far it has been an uneasy truce between me and the squirrels. You'll be the first to hear if anything develops.

Finally, I met with my good doctor this week. He told me that I didn't need anymore follow-ups and I should only come in if there are problems. Of course I told him, "I hope I never see you again." Realizing that it didn't come out right I said "Well, I mean that in a good way." He said, "That's alright, I hope I don't see you either." Hmmmm... what did he mean by that?

That's all for this week. Thanks for reading along.

Steve

2007-03-26T21:56:00.000-07:00

Hello again everyone. I'm back with another gripping update about my latest challenge. My biweekly (or is it semi-monthly) update on my training and fundraising. I'm back for another season of fighting cancer while riding hundreds...er...thousands of miles on my bike. I'm raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society in honor of my late mother-in-law, my friend Stacy, who both battled Leukemia. If you'd like to support my cause, visit my fundraising site at http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche

Ever so slowly forward
If you've been following this year's update you'll know that I pledged to ride 100 miles for every 100 dollars raised. I've ridden 100 miles each of the last two weekends. That's the good news. You've donated over $1600. That's great news. I've picked up my training pace so I should be able to match the fundraising. Sure I'm 980 miles in debt, but my average continues to increase. Now, of course, you could really put me in my place and make a donation just to make me work harder.

Yelling at cyclists
I've noticed an interesting phenomena this season. For some reason people in cars like to yell at people on bikes. I'm not going to go on another rant about inconsiderate drivers and their vulgar epithets. I could fill pages about the various rude remarks hurled in my direction. I was riding on Saturday and some knucklehead in a pick-up truck yelled an unintelligible remark at us. I asked a teammate what the guy said, he said the guy yelled "I'm a fool". Now I don't think that's exactly what he yelled, but it made me think that whenever someone yells something derogatory at us, we can just think they're advertising how ignorant they are. That yelling happens everytime I go riding. It's the non-derogatory comments that are more interesting. If I'm wearing a jersey with the logo of my favorite team, I always get several supportive shouts. The puzzling ones are those that ask questions from their moving cars. Picture yourself in this situation - a car comes up on you, your focus is on not being hit, as the car passes you hear something, it takes you a second to process what you heard and actually interpret it, then by the time you realize it's a question you're only response is an unintelligible grunt. I personally fret over the fact that they think I must be an idiot. From their perspective they asked a question and all this cyclist could do was manage a grunt. Real smooth.

Usually they're asking if they're on the right road, which way is such and such. If you feel compelled to yell at a cyclist, because obviously so many do, you should yell something that will really make them think. I think it would be amusing if you yelled, "Hey, what's the capital of Montana?"

On Bike Seats
I mentioned last time how you had to have no shame when it comes to wearing bike shorts. To elaborate on the whole bike short phenomenon, there is a good reason to wear bike shorts. Bike shorts are made to protect you from your bike seat. They put padding in the shorts because there isn't any padding on the seat. When most people look at a road bike they think that seat looks uncomfortable. You know what? They're right. Most bike seats are uncomfortable and they get even more uncomfortable after a long day. I believe there's collusion between the bicycle seat makers and the short makers so they don't make one aspect of bike too comfortable. There's even a product called chamois butter that is designed to protect you from your shorts which protect you from your bike seat.

So this product is a cream, with the consistency of soft butter no less, that you rub on the padding of your bike shorts. That would be the inside of your bike shorts. There's one manufacturer that calls its product Chamois Butt'r. I guess that's their way of making sure the chamois butter goes where it's intended to go, i.e. your butt. Do they really think people will put this on toast? Anyway, if you really want to give yourself a treat, and I mean that in the most sarcastic way, you should take some cold sour cream (cold butter won't work since it hardens) rub it in your underwear, then put them on. Do that, and you'll pretty much replicate the experience a cyclist goes through when they put their bike shorts on. At the risk of stating the obvious, you will not like it. Makes you want go out and ride.

That's all for this update. Check out the blog. http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/ Next time I'll have some pictures up there so you can see some of the strange discoveries we find on our rides. And no, I'm not going to post pictures of flattened roadkill. Even I have some sense of good taste.

2007-03-12T21:37:00.000-07:00

Welcome back to My Latest Challenge 2.0. Things have been progressing very well. I've added a few new people to my mailing list, so if you're seeing this for the first time, check out the rest of the blog at http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/ There you will learn that I am, once again, embarking on an unwise challenge in an effort to raise money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. And if you feel inclined to make a donation to support my effort, go to my fundraising site at http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche

This May Be Harder than it Looks
I made the bold claim that I would ride 100 miles for every $100 raised. So far I am woefully behind. I have trained 420 miles and I have raised $1,127. I expected to gain some ground, but I think there's a lot of people that want to see me put in the hundreds of miles. That's okay, I'm still confident I'll easily match the donations. That is unless, some overly generous person steps up.

I think there should be a multiplier for particularly grueling rides. Our sadistic coaches took us on a ride on March 3rd that was particularly challenging. Apparently they've discovered roads that don't show up on most maps. There was a particular road, called Morrison Canyon, that is not wider than one car, is really steep, and to top it off just when you think you've reached the top. It actually gets steeper. At the very top of this hill is an area that looks like a scene from the Hills Have Eyes. There were a lot of strange antenna arrays and many keep out signs. Thankfully I made it, eventhough I narrowly missed ending up as a hood ornament for a car that was coming up the road too quickly.

So What is the Hardest Thing about Riding a Bike?
I get a lot of questions about how it feels to sit on bike seat all day, or how my back holds up to climbing hills. The question on everybody's mind but rarely asked is, "How are you able to walk around in bike shorts?"

Let's face it, bike clothes are one step above Speedos when it comes to sporting attire. Since the rider isn't wearing anything under his or her bike shorts, it's equivalent to walking around in fancy underwear. And of course, just like bathing suits, some people look better than others. I fall into the others.

The worst part about wearing bike clothes is that oftentimes, you find that you're in places where everyone else is dressed in normal clothes. Unlike the Speedo folks who generally are going to be around a pool, I've had to endure walking through the office, that's right - my place of work, in my bike clothes. I've heard every kind of comment - from whistles, to "you've got a lot of guts" and one person asked if I was going swimming. I have no idea what they were thinking. I've also gotten a lot of comments when I was out riding. I can always count of some suburban mouth-breather to tell me from his truck window how gay I look. I even had one woman yell, "Hey fella, you've got nothing to be proud of." Sheesh... she doesn't think I won't remember when mother's day comes around.

Here's the trick to wearing bike clothes, you have to just not care. The key is to develop a high tolerance for embarassment. Fortunately I have had many opportunities to embarass myself and have succeeded in building a high tolerance. One memorably embarrassing moment occurred when I was in college. I saw a young lady friend of mine sitting on the lawn by the Campanile. Never missing an opportunity, I decided to sit down next to her and have a pleasant chat. At this point, I should mention that there are a lot of dogs on the Berkeley campus. People thought it was trendy to bring a dog to school and let it run around while the dog's owner attended class. Along with dogs come dog droppings, or as my kids refer to them, dog bombs. So as I sat down, I made the sudden and unpleasant discovery, that something was simply not right. Of course, you're thinking, he sat down on a dog bomb. Well not exactly, as I sat down on the grass I placed my hand down squarely into a fresh dog bomb. All chances of impressing this young lady evaporated like water on a hot pan. I had to make my way into one of the buildings, find a washroom and hope I didn't see anyone or have to touch anything. When I returned, the young lady was still there...laughing of course. Nearby there was freshly imprinted hand sculpture, not unlike the ones that kids do for their moms on mother's day (hey...oh...nevermind), except plaster of Paris it was plaster of Fido.

Now every time I feel embarrassed about wearing bike clothes, I think of that warm spring day, and tell myself, at least I don't have dog doo on my hand.

That's it for this week. More hills and more miles in the weeks ahead. Hopefully the rain is gone for a while.

2007-02-23T21:32:00.000-08:00

Challenges are Everywhere

Hello again. I'm back for another update about my Latest Challenge 2.0. I didn't have enough challenges so I'm back for another year of self-punishment in the form of hundreds of miles and hours on my bicycle. Once again I'm on quest to conquer 129 miles over 5 mountain passes in one day and raise $5,000 to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma in the process. If you want to support my cause visit my donation website at (http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche). If you want to know more about my quest, then visit my blog. (http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/) Let me catch you up on the latest developments.

Me and my big mouth
In my last update I pledged to ride 100 training miles for every $100 donated. Right now I have trained 250.7 miles but your generous donations are at $520. I have a 270 mile deficit. I intend to reduce this deficit considerably this weekend. As I explained to one naysayer, I have a plan that will allow me to keep my mileage up. More about that in a future update, for now you have an opportunity to make me work. You won't get another chance at that.

I did consider other forms of incentives but after careful consideration I thought better of it. The most intriguing was a company that makes personalized bricks. What better way to reward your patronage than to have a brick engraved with your personal message. I was going to offer to carry the bricks on a ride with me and realized that I had enough trouble hauling my own weight around let alone a bunch of bricks.

He Ain't Heavy...He's Fat!
Speaking of weight, I also mentioned that I would lose 35 pounds in the process. To help me in the goal, my loving wife, bought me a super-fancy scale for Christmas. This scale tells me everything, most of which I don't want to know. She would have gotten me a talking scale, but I couldn't bear the sound of a scale telling me "One at a time please" or "The freight scale is in the back" or "What did I do to you?". Thinking I could endure anything the uber-scale could tell me, I learned the hard way that I was wrong. You see, the scale has this one measurement that tells you your metabolic age. Effectively it computes your fitness and provides you with what your age should be. Here's the deal, my drivers license says that I am in my 40s. My scale tells me that I am in my 50s. I don't know about you, but I'd much rather my scale make cutting remarks than to simply tell me I am old. All this time I bought into the line - "You're as young as you feel". Now I know "You're as young as your scale says you are". My newly added goal is to get my scale age below my real age. I know this is possible because my superfit cousin, who happens to be 10 years older than I, is only 26 according to the scale.

Well that's enough update for now. Tomorrow we tackle a 54 mile ride. This should be a real test for the back. While I'm riding, check out the blog for a tear-jerker story that pretty much sums up why I ride to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma.

Steve

2007-02-13T20:12:00.000-08:00

From on My Back to on My Bike

I bet some of you were wondering whatever happened to those nice updates we used to get from that bike riding guy. Others of you are probably saying, "I'm glad I don't get those updates anymore." And others are wondering, "How did he get my email address?"

Once again I'm going to be filling your inbox with inane blather about how I'm doing on my latest challenge. As some of you will recall, last year I took on the ill conceived challenge of rding my bicycle 129 miles over 5 mountain passes. I did this as part of a challenge to raise funds to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. Well thanks to many of you, I collected over $7,500 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in honor of my late mother-in-law, Margie Griffin and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor.

So what am I up to you say? Well shortly after I completed the Death Ride last year I was contacted by my coaches from Team in Training and asked if I wanted to be a mentor for this years Death Ride team. Coincidentally, I was recovering from surgery to repair a ruptured disk in my lower back. So while wondering whether I was going to walk upright, let alone ride a bike, I did the only reasonable thing...I said "Yes". That's right, a gimpy overweight guy, i.e. me, is going to do the Death Ride again. It sounds ludicrous and don't tell my surgeon, but I'm determined to give complete this very difficult ride.

Here's the deal - after all that effort to raise money to support cancer research and patient services, they still haven't found a cure. I know, I'm as shocked as you are. Since over 76% of the funds raised by the Leukemia and Lymphoma go to fund important research and care, I felt what better way to invest my time.

So if you think that helping to find a cure for Leukemia and Lymphoma is a pretty good idea, and if you want to support my goal of raising $5,000 to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, then check out my fundraising site at http://www.active.com/donate/tntgsf/steveasche To make things more interesting, I'm committing to ride 100 miles this year for each $100 dollars raised. I figure that if people want to spite me, they'll donate more.

I'll keep you updated on my progress along with various experiences along the way. If you do not want to receive updates, drop me a line and let me know.

2007-02-08T20:28:00.000-08:00

Why I Ride for Team in Training

For those that don't understand why I raise money to fight blood-related cancers, this story pretty much says it.

From the book, Life Lessons, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler.

“Some years ago, I knew a young boy who was eager to spread love and find life, even though he was at the end of his. He had had cancer for six of his nine years. In the hospital, I took one look at him and knew he was finished fighting. He had just had it. He had accepted the reality of his death. I stopped by to say good-bye the day he was going home. To my surprise, he asked me to go home with him. When I tried to sneak a peak at my watch, he assured me that it would not take long.

And so we drove into his driveway and parked. He told his father to take down his bicycle, which had been hanging in the garage, unused, for three years. His biggest dream was to ride around the block once—he had never been able to do that. He asked his father to put the training wheels on his bicycle. That takes a lot of courage for a little boy to do: it’s humiliating to be seen with training wheels when your peers are popping wheelies and performing tricks with their bikes. With tears in his eyes, the father did so.

Then the boy looked at me and said, “Your job is to hold my mom back.”You know how moms are, they want to protect you all the time. She wanted to hold him up all the way around the block, but that would cheat him out of his great victory. His mother understood. She knew that one of the last things she could do for her son was to refrain, out of love, from hovering over him as he undertook his last, great challenge.We waited as he rode off. It seemed like an eternity.

Then he came around the corner, barely able to balance. He was terribly drawn and pale. Nobody thought he could ride a bike. But he rode up to us beaming. Then he had his father take off the training wheels and we carried the bike, and him, upstairs. “When my brother comes home from school, would you send him in?” he asked.

Two weeks later the little brother, a first-grader, told us that his brother had given him the bicycle as a birthday present, since he knew he would not be around for the birthday. With not much time or energy left, this brave boy had lived out his final dreams, riding his bike around the corner and passing it on to his younger sibling.”

2007-01-22T22:20:00.000-08:00

It's January 22nd, 2007 only 5 months and 3 weeks until my next crack at the Death Ride. Last year I rode the Death Ride as part of the Team in Training organization. I endured sadistic coaches, bitter cold, scorching heat and many grueling hours on a hard leather seat. In spite of those challenges, which I've chronicled in past blog entries, I'm doing it again.

So why am I doing it again? Two reasons - I think I can do it better than last time. I believe that if don't give graviity such an advantage and I get my weight down, that I should be able to finish it an hour faster than last years ride. The second reason, is that despite all their efforts, they did not find a cure for cancer last year. As I did last year, I will be riding and raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

To make the effort a little more challenging, I should point out that I have not been able to ride for 3 months and that recovering from back surgery limits one's exercise options. So in order for me to make my objective of shaving an hour off my time, I have to overcome the weakness in my back and I have to lose 30 pounds - 15 of which I gained after my back surgery.

In a lot of ways this will be a tougher challenge this year. I know many people that supported me last year may have other priorities this year. I'm starting out in worse shape than last year. It will certainly be a long road. Please join me on this challenge. If you'd like to sponsor me please visit Steve's Fundraising Page

Thanks
Steve

2006-09-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

On the Road to Recovery

A lot has happened since the last post -- A lumbar disk (L4/5) blew out just before Labor Day. I endured 2 weeks of unabated, debilitating pain. I've tried every drug combination shy of intravenous morphine. I lost countless hours of sleep. Lost 15 pounds. The narcotics precipitated a nasty gastro-intestinal disorder. I had surgery on September 12th. Endured further intestinal problems and have had to put up with withdrawal symptoms as I wean myself from the narcotics. It looks like, and I say this quite a bit of caution and a lot of "wood knocking", the worst is behind me and I am slowly on the mend.

First the good news - the eye crossing, heart stopping, intense pain is pretty much gone. I have had a few episodes where if i turn my foot the wrong way or sit improperly that I have sharp spasms that eventually subside. If I'm careful and slow, I can get by. I can get my own socks on. I can walk up and down stairs. I can get through a day without consuming a medicine cabinet's amount of pills.

Now the bad news - I still have persistent numbness in both legs. I can't stand up straight. I can only walk a short distance. I'm constantly cranky -- so I've been told. Hopefully, all these things will improve with time - again "knocking on wood".

Highlights and Lowlights
I am very appreciative of all the support that you have shown. I've received many calls, emails, visits, and cards wishing me well. My new employer, Trapeze Networks, has been very decent and considerate since I went down on the second day of the job. Thanks everyone for your kindness and support. It has cheered me up especially since the local weather has been spectacular and I haven't had the opportunity to enjoy biking or attending Bears games -- well and a diminished general quality of life nor an ability to do simple things like walking around.

And now for an unexpected lowlight. I strongly advise if you're of a sensitive nature, that you skip this section and pick it up below where it says "Okay, you can start reading again." It's pretty impolite and downright icky. Anyway, don't say I didn't warn you. One of the side effects of taking morphine-based drugs is that they can be addicitive (of course we all know that) and incredibly constipating. I'm sure I've lost half of you by that sentence. Really, I don't mind if you skip ahead. Anyway, you hear about the good effects - like pain relief, rippin' good hallucinations. But they emphasize the addiction part but not that constipation part. I suppose that because I took Vicodin, Oxycontin, Duadid, NuCor (stronger than Vicodin), Flexeril (muscle relaxant), and Neurontin (nerve pain medication) that I had the adverse effects. Mind you, I did not take all of them at the same time. I don't want to get my good doctor in trouble here. We tried some medicines, if they did not work, we moved to others. So for ten days, nothing *ahem* moved. This weekend, 5 days after the surgery, I had the misfortune of eating something greasy from a fast food place. I can only describe the effect, by relating a similar incident. I recall one family vacation at Bryce Canyon in southern Utah and listening to a ranger describe a flash flood in a dry stream bed. The first thing about a flash flood is you can hear it long before it reaches you. You can hear loud crashing and rumbling. When you first see the flood, there is no water, only a mad collection of boulders, logs, and debris smashing everything in its path. This is followed by a furious torrent of mud and rocks violently racing down the mountain. Yep, that pretty much describes it exactly. As I endured my personal internal flash flood, I thought, (aside from "What next?" and "What did I do to tick you off, God?") I really need to take better care of myself. Let that be a warning to you - be careful with those drugs.

Okay, you can start reading again
I have a follow up visit with my good doctor on Wednesday. I hope the leg numbness is a temporary effect. I should be back at work this week. Again, thanks for your support and kindness. And though I hope you never have to endure similar problems, I am more than happy to return the support you've provided me.

So with this little twist of fate, I now have grist for my ongoing blog. I'll provide bi-weekly updates to this blog and update you on my recovery and progress. My goal is to walk normally, get back on the bike, get my BMI down to a 23, ride up Haleakala, become a TnT Mentor, and throw another Death Ride in there for good measure.

Steve

2006-08-31T20:22:00.000-07:00

The Fateful Day has Finally Arrived

"This should be interesting"
"I'm surprised you could walk in here"
"This is unprecedented"
"If this herniated section were any bigger you'd lose control of your legs and bowels...try to not make it worse."

These were all quotes that my surgeon said to me this Wednesday. After all my work and my training for the Death Ride the one thing I worried about the most finally broke...my back. I mentioned that I had two herniated disks in my back that were causing quite a bit of pain. Through some cutting edge treatments I was able to keep the disks in check and survive the Death Ride. But like a thread-bare tire, it decided to blow.

And like a blowout, it happened suddenly and furiously. My back had been sore for a few days prior and I had made an appointment to see the doctor later that week, but when I sat down in the wrong chair, I learned a new level of pain.

They say kidney stones are pretty painful. As are toothaches and broken bones. I've had kidney stones and impacted teeth and nothing compares to the pain I felt on Tuesday. Imagine pain so debilitating that there was no position I could take that would ease it. The pain shot up and down my back to my left leg all the way to my toes. I couldn't stand to walk out of the office.

With the help of some friends and a massive dose of Vicodin, I made it to the emergency room. There they gave me morphine and an epidural. Neither had an effect.

The next day my surgeon, Dr. Robert Rovner, took one look and made the comments above. It was plain to see that the disk had extruded into the spinal cavity and was filling three-quarters of the area that hold the spinal nerves. You know the ones that control your lower extremities.

So back under the knife I go. The good news is they don't have to do a disk fusion. The bad news is every day until the surgery is a new adventure in pain. I guess I'll appreciate the healthy times even more.

Go do your Pilates. You really do not want this to happen to you. I'll keep you posted and hope to get pictures of blown disk. Stay tuned.

2006-07-10T23:02:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months, thanks to your generous donations, I’ve raised over $7,400 to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma in honor of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last August, and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor. I’m at 99% of my $7,500 goal; thank you for all your support.

If you're interested in sponsoring me or learning what it's all about, check out my fundraising site at Steve's Team in Training Page Steve's Team in Training Page.

Working Every Angle
I decided to take a tip from the riders in the Tour de France and see if I could find anything to work to my advantage. Not being up to speed on blood doping nor having access to EPO, I tried to gain an advantage through moderate and, I might add, legal means. In addition to the weeks of training, I did other things to help give me an extra edge before the event. I started drinking excessive volumes of water, combined with electrolyte supplements. I had two deep tissue massages to make sure every joint and muscle was loose and ready. I even set aside my male pride and *gasp* shaved my legs.

On Leg Shaving
All professional riders shave their legs. And certainly there’s a good reason for it, though I’ve yet to hear it. I figured - they do it, they’re good riders. If I do it, I’ll be a good rider. And with that solid reasoning, on Thursday night before the Death Ride, I had my date with the razor. First, let me say to all the women that read this, I have a whole new appreciation for your grooming efforts. It’s not something I’d want to make a regular practice. It takes way too long and you have to contort yourself to make sure you can get the backs of your legs. Of course, you miss a spot only to be told so by your spouse. Frankly it’s a real hassle. Now it did not make me a better rider, and it did have a downside (more on that later) but it did garner me a few compliments. Most notably, a woman teammate, said that shaving my legs gave my calves more definition and made them better looking. That made my day. Maybe next time I’ll shave my belly :-D

Death Ride Day
We arrived at the start of the Death Ride at 4:45. With out much fanfare we were on the road at 5:15 and freezing. It was 44 degrees outside. After a chilly half hour the climbing began - so much for being cold. The forecast for the day was for it to reach 90 degrees with a chance of thunderstorms. The first climb was up Monitor Pass. I made it to the top by 7am. This was great news since I expected to be there by 7:30. I flew down the other side of Monitor Pass, hitting a top speed of 48mph, heading to Nevada. On the way down I saw several of my teammates already heading back up. Knowing they had a 40 minute head start, I was hoping to catch them. Traveling the 8 miles to the bottom in 15 minutes, I refilled my water bottles and headed back up. I realized that the 8 miles down hill is a lot farther uphill. I made it to the top of Monitor again in an hour and 45 minutes. So far so good.

I had a quick run to the bottom of Monitor and started up Ebbett’s Pass. I had told my friend Betty that I would be over Ebbett’s and down to the Hermit Valley between 11 and 1. If I wanted to make it by noon, I’d have to push a little harder. Pushing harder sounds like a reasonable plan, but putting it into practice is a bit different. Fortunately, about 7 miles from the top of Ebbett’s Pass they have a water station. At this rest stop all the volunteers are dressed in Hawaiian costumes. They were serving cold drinks and fruit. It was just what I needed to get me to the top. In my best Clydesdale fashion I slowly climbed to the top of the pass at 8700’. By now I was thinking I might have bitten off more than I can chew. I was passed by some guy pedaling a recumbent bike. Recumbents look more like a rolling chair than a bike. They’re generally ridden by granola eating, New Age listening, tie-dye wearing, hippie wannabes. I’m not a big fan. I descended into the Hermit Valley on the other side of Ebbetts. I made it by 12:15. 15 minutes behind schedule.

At the bottom, Betty Bennett and her husband Dennis were there to cheer on the riders. Betty is one of my sponsors and had lost a close friend to cancer. They drove over just to see the team and provide support. She provided good wishes and just as importantly, an ice cold soda and some ice for my water bottles. After some pictures and a soda, I waved goodbye and headed back up for the fourth pass. I started out great, but the heat and climbing were beginning to take their toll. About half way up, I had a stroke of good fortune.

As I was riding along someone came alongside and said that they had heard of Virsa. (Virsa is the company I worked for and is one of my sponsors. In honor of their support I was wearing a Virsa jersey.) It turned out to be Dave Harris, a co-worker from my ActivCard days. Dave and I talked on the way back up to the top of Ebbett’s. It was the distraction I needed to not think about the climb. I made it the top of Ebbett’s by 1:30. After a quick refill of the bottles and a repair to one of my cleats, I was heading back for the last pass. I was starting to get a little pressed for time. I decided to skip the lunch stop and gain ground by pressing on to the last pass.

To go up the last pass, you have to pass back through the starting point of the ride. A lot of people abandon the ride at that point. They realize that they’re in a lot of pain and would just as soon stop. Fortunately for me, I had some supporters that helped me along the way. As I was making my way to the last climb, my wife Sherri and my friend Scott were waiting at a turnout along the road. They had cold water, Red Bull’s, cokes, otter pops, and turkey sandwiches. Sherri also brought me a clean jersey, undershirt and socks. After close to 9 hours of riding, I looked like a salt lick. The change of clothes, refreshments and an opportunity to wash all the salt off gave me enough energy to make it to the next climb. I made it to the start of the next climb by 3:00pm.

At the Death Ride the riders have to make it through checkpoints by certain times. If they don’t, they have to turn around and head back to the start. I figured I had an hour and a half to make it to the next checkpoint. It was going to be close. I started the climb to the last checkpoint and things started to turn worse. I hadn’t had any leg cramps all day. Now when I needed to make up some time, the legs decided to not cooperate. My speed dropped considerably. I was in serious doubt of making the cutoff time. After about 15 minutes of slow, slow pace, I heard someone say, “Steve and Alex are behind you”. Two of my TnT teammates had caught up with me and were now right behind. I let them pull ahead and I used the other Steve to set pace. Once again fate had smiled upon me. We pulled into the checkpoint at least 50 minutes before the cutoff time. At the checkpoint, Scott and my wife were there with cold water and Red Bulls. Scott had filled the back liner of his truck with ice. I took advantage of the setup to soak my feet in the ice water. It was great therapy for hot swollen feet. Replenished and refreshed I climbed back on the bike to make the last 9 miles to the top of Carson Pass.

Many people get this far and they have nothing left. The turn their bikes around and head back down the hill. After climbing 7 miles towards Carson Pass only realizing you have 9 more to climb can be pretty demoralizing. At times like these you have to look inside to understand why you’re doing it. At this point of the Death Ride for most people it’s all about will, not ability. I think it’s only fair to tell you why I decided to join Team in Training and to do this challenge:

As you know, I’m doing this ride to honor my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin. Margie was a kind and giving person. She knew I was a big fan of cycling in general and Lance Armstrong in particular. She went into the hospital last August with a lung infection. When she went into the hospital she said she had a gift for me and said she hoped it would arrive soon. Margie was in the hospital for several weeks and her condition steadily worsened. We went to the hospital to visit and she was heavily sedated with morphine. She was not expected to survive much longer. I was there with my family when my sister-in-law handed me the package that Margie had ordered for me. Margie had purchased a book that was a collection of all the articles that Sports Illustrated published about Lance Armstrong. It was a small but generous act that touched me deeply. As she lay there dying she still had thought of others. I was too choked up to mumble an intelligible thank you. Margie died the next morning. When I heard about Team in Training and the opportunity to raise money to fight blood cancers, I felt that it was a way to say thank you to Margie.

I had 9 miles to go to the top. With a fistful of endurolytes, Advils, a couple power gels, some water, and a lot of determination, I covered the 9 miles in a little over an hour. It was the fastest I had climbed all day. As people were trudging along the side of the road, I was passing. I flew past several riders along the last half mile including a guy on a ridiculous recumbent bike – (I really don’t like those bikes). I crested the top and rolled to the last rest stop. I met several members of the TnT group. I’d finally caught the group that had left earlier.

We waited for the last few TnT riders to come over the top. We had a celebratory ice cream, donned our jackets, and raced downhill to back to the start. Our best laid plans went slightly astray when on the way down it started to rain. A summer thunderstorm had formed from the hot weather. I quickly discovered the disadvantage of shaved legs. Water flows much more quickly down a smooth leg and straight into your shoes than a comparable hairy leg. The women on the team confirmed my assertion. With soggy socks and shoes, the team crossed the finish line as a group. 129 miles, 15000 feet of climbing, 13 hours on the bike and about 11,400 calories expended, we completed the Death Ride.

A Million Thanks
Thanks to all of you that have supported me. It’s a great cause and every donation moves us closer to finding a cure and to helping the victims of blood cancers. Special thanks go to my sadistic coaches that trained us well. Thanks also go to the Sherri, Emily, Rob, Jimmy, Scott, and John that came out on training rides and the Death Ride to provide SAG support.

2006-06-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the next to last installment of my latest challenge. Over the past few months, thanks to your generous donations, I’ve raised over $7,200 to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma in honor of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last August, and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor. I’m close to my $7,500 goal with a week and a half to go until the Death Ride – a one day, 130 mile ride, climbing 15,000 feet, over 5 mountain passes.

If you're interested in sponsoring me or learning what it's all about, check out my fundraising site at Steve's Team in Training Page Steve's Team in Training Page.

In my last update I wrote about the grueling challenges that our coaches had cooked up for us. One would have thought that they had exhausted their list of torturous routes. We were wrong. Have you ever said, “It can’t get any worse.” Only to find that things can, and do, get much worse. This is one of those times. They told us last week that this last Saturday we’d be doing the “Vertical Challenge”. As the week wore on, the temperature started to climb and what was to be a challenging ride became…

Hell on Wheels
The forecasted high for this last Saturday was an unpleasant 103 degrees in the shade. The team was a little concerned about the riding conditions. The plan was to ride 102 miles and climb 11,000 feet. Seeing the dilemma, the coaches decided to alter the route to a pleasant 90 mile ride with 8000 feet of climbing. And since they actually ride the route with us, (remember they’re sadists, not masochists), they wisely recruited more SAG support. SAG support, for those new to this cycling thing, stands for Support and Gear. These are volunteers that are stationed at points along the route and they provide food and water to keep the team going or, in this case, upright.

The ride started pleasantly, much like the Titanic’s maiden voyage, with the temperature at 78 degrees. We started climbing Mines Road just south of Livermore. Oh by the way, did I mention it was 6:40am. By 8:15 at the first SAG stop, the temperature was 84. By the time we got to SAG stop three at mile 40, at the base of Mt. Hamilton at 10:10, the temperature was in the 90s with no intention of going lower. Now the fun begins.

For those of you that have not been to the back side of Mt. Hamilton, this is likely the most desolate part of the Bay Area. Known as the San Antonio Valley, no one goes there, and for good reason. This is a sun-baked section of rolling farmland. You’ll find a few ponds that are usually dry by mid-summer, some rocky ridges, and very little shade. The only wildlife I saw were vultures that reluctantly abandoned their roadkill feast when we rolled by. The brown menace (squirrels) didn’t show themselves because they’re too smart to go out in this heat.

So there I was, about to climb 2000 feet in about 5 miles. For those scoring at home, that’s over a 7% grade -- typically regarded as steep by most motorists. As I started up I noticed two things, one that it all of a sudden got much hotter and two, my heart rate decided to climb faster than the temperature. As I climbed through the sun scorched landscape certain things caught my eye – the oil in the asphalt was starting to liquefy. There were patches and bubbles of oil that I made a note of to avoid on the way back down. There are also several hairpin turns where the road gets considerably steeper. After an hour and two minutes and having expended over 1000 Calories I made it to the SAG stop at the top of the mountain. The fast thin riders were already there. I took some consolation that they didn’t look any better than I did. (except for the fact that they actually look like cyclists) After two cokes, water, an otter pop, and a sandwich, I headed back down to the valley that earlier in the morning was at 90 degrees. After a slow descent and an emergency stop to shake a bee out of my helmet, I made it to the bottom of Mt. Hamilton. I noted the temperature - 103.

The road through the San Antonio valley has a couple of substantial climbs with several sections of the road edged by a rocky canyon wall. The combination of direct sun, little breeze and reflected heat from road and rocks made for a blistering combination. The temperature on my bike computer is saying it’s over 110 degrees. At one point it recorded a high temperature of 121. And that’s when the leg cramps started.

Most people’s experience with leg cramps usually happen when they’re relaxing at home or sound asleep. Your muscles involuntarily, and painfully I might add, contract. Usually people try to “walk it off” hoping to stretch the muscle and relieve the pain. Since I’d have to be a Chinese acrobat to walk around on my bike, there’s only one thing to do – gut it out. Cramps are caused by a lack of electrolytes, which get depleted when your body sweats. Cyclists take electrolyte tablets to counter this depletion. However, if your body is sweating an extraordinary amount, it’s hard to replenish them fast enough. I don’t have to be a doctor to know that 110 degree heat likely promotes excessive sweating. I made a conscious effort to drink more fluids and take more electrolytes.

I rolled into the rest stop at mile 65, which looked like the heat stroke victims unit at a Day on the Green concert (Lollapalooza for the younger audience, Woodstock for the old folks). Everybody, including the SAG volunteers, was feeling the heat. The temperature on a gauge in the shade at the SAG stop said it was over 100.

I rolled out of that stop and braced myself for two long, slow, and hot climbs. At a snail’s pace I made it over the two climbs. Thanks to the alert roving SAG people who cooled me down with cold water when they found me sitting in the shade on the side of the road. I made it to the last stop with 15 miles to go. I sat for 20 minutes with a cold wet towel over my head. Finally I was ready to end this ordeal. With minimal energy and some abatement from the leg cramps I slogged it back to the cars.

I figured I drank 8 - 24oz bottles of water, 5 sodas, two Red Bulls, and an otter pop. That’s over 2 gallons of liquid! My clothing and skin was so salt encrusted I looked like a human pretzel

Three riders had to be SAGed back to the cars. Under normal circumstances they’d have been fine. Thankfully, the SAG folks were there to help us through. If this doesn’t make us ready for the Death Ride, I don’t know what will.

Stay Tuned – Next up, the Death Ride
You don’t want to miss the thrilling conclusion of this challenge. Look for the next and final update to come after the Death Ride. The ride is on July 8th in Markleeville. Will the Clydesdale ride to victory or will he be dropped at the side of the road like about half the people that attempt the Death Ride? Can we find humor in such a grueling endeavor? Will all this training be undone by a squirrel with a grudge?

2006-06-16T14:54:00.000-07:00

Welcome to another installment of my latest challenge. . For those of you new to receiving these updates – here's the deal: I've taken on the challenge of completing an epic endurance event with the purpose of raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. I decided to take up this challenge in honor of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last August, and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor. My goal is to raise $7,500 to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma society through the Team in Training program. My personal challenge is to complete the Tour of the California Alps, also known as the Death Ride – a one day, 130 mile ride, climbing 15,000 feet, over 5 mountain passes.

If you're interested in sponsoring me or learning what it's all about, check out my fundraising site at Steve's Team in Training Page Steve's Team in Training Page

A Near Death Experience
Since the last time I wrote, I have discovered new levels of pain and excitement. In a 19 day period I rode 560 miles and climbed over 52,000 feet. On Memorial Day I rode up Mt. Diablo three times, the following weekend I rode the Sierra Century followed the next day by riding the America’s Most Beautiful Bike ride century around Lake Tahoe, the following weekend we went to High Altitude camp and endured two days of pain, finally capped off by riding Mt. Diablo over three times. And of course the answer to the obvious question is, “Yes, my butt is sore.” Some of the more memorable experiences were riding to the top of Ebbett’s pass at 8723’ and having snow banks piled over my head on both sides of the road, passing a frozen lake, descending at 47 miles an hour and have a high-speed wobble develop in the rear wheel. A high speed wobble is like your bike getting the shakes. If the bike were an animate object it would be telling me “Aaaiiee! Get off me clydesdale we’re going too fast.” There’s nothing that raises your heart rate quite like blazing down the road and having your bike tell you, “I’m trying to shake you loose.” A trip to the bike shop to tighten some spokes should shut the bike up.

Scott’s Big Ride
The most memorable ride was the one around Lake Tahoe. I promised my friend Scott Leatherman that if he signed up for Team in Training that I would do the ride with him. Scott signed up to do his first century with TnT. The ride they prepared him for was America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride (AMBBR). After riding a very hilly century the day before, I rolled out with him at 7:00am on Sunday morning. The weather was great and the views of Lake Tahoe were spectacular. Since this a national TnT event, there were 3000 riders from all over the country. Additionally there are thousands of supporters along the sides of the road for the whole ride cheering you on. There’s nothing quite like having fans. I started out by smiling and waving at the cheering throngs and transitioned to getting “high fives” from people along the route. Had I been out there longer, I would have started giving hugs and kisses. Though I suspect the supporters did not want to touch a big, sweaty, cyclist.

Scott is not the type of guy you usually see on a bike. He used to be a football lineman in college. In other words, he’s un-svelte. He thinks I’m thin – ha! Scott made it the entire 101 miles and climbed over 4000 feet. Given the particularly strong gravity that day, that was pretty impressive. He literally worked harder than 95% of the other riders out there.

On the last climb up Spooner Summit, a 5 mile climb, Scott would tell me to ride ahead and wait for him at the top. I’d go ahead to the next rise in the road and wait there. As I waited there the most irritating thing happened. As I’m standing there, first time century riders would be going up the hill and they’d tell *me* things like “It’s the last hill. You can make it don’t give up.” At first, I’d smile and say I’m fine. Scott would come rolling up, I’d ride with him a while and go on the next rise. Again, while I was waiting at the next rise people would tell me that I should just keep trying. Now I’m annoyed. I get it, I don’t look like a cyclist. That doesn’t mean it’s my first time here. At least I got some consolation. Generally at the rest stops you talk to the other cyclists and they ask if this is your first century ride. I’d respond with, “Actually, no, I rode one yesterday too.” The stunned looks were priceless.

On Fundraising
I’m near the $7000 mark. If you want to make a donation, here’s your last chance. We need to have our collections done by June 23rd. Thanks to all of you that have been supporters. If you’re still on the fence, it’s for a good cause.

Watch Out for that Food
Every long-time road cyclist has a story about someone throwing food at them. Typically, they’re burritos or sodas. A friend of mine said he had a hamburger hit him square in the chest. Usually the culprits throw the food at you from their fast moving cars. Leaving you no chance to catch them or, ideally, return the favor. My son has the best story of such an incident; and since he doesn’t have his own blog, I’ll tell it here.

My son, his friend and his friend’s younger brother were on their bikes heading along a busy road to the store. A white car with four guys in it passed them. As they passed, someone threw a burrito at them, hitting the younger brother. Further down the road, they spotted the white car in waiting at an intersection for a left turn light. My son and the older brother thought since there were four guys to their two and a half, and that they had a car vs. their bikes, it was best to let the issue drop. Of course, they neglected to tell the younger brother this. So, as they passed the stopped car, the younger brother took his water bottle, which contained red Gatorade, and sprayed it through the open windows of the car containing four, now very wet and angry, guys. A fact that my son and the older brother didn’t realize until they heard the yelling and the tire squealing as the car was trying to accelerate out of the left turn lane. I’m sure at this point, several thoughts went through their heads about chastising the younger brother, but the immediate need for self-preservation did not give them an opportunity to ponder them. Fortunately, they were near the shopping center parking lot. They took off into the parking lot with the white car in hot pursuit. They jumped islands and maneuvered through the parking spaces; eventually cutting behind a car that was backing from a parking stall. The car blocked the way for the white car. Despite the white car’s insistent honking, they were able to make a narrow escape. I don’t recommend this tactic as a practice. However, it certainly gives the rest of us some satisfaction that someone got their comeuppance.

Stay tuned for the next update
Next time I’ll have completed several more hundred mile rides. With the temperature increasing, it should be loads of fun. In the meantime, check out the blog and tell your friends and neighbors to sponsor me.

2006-05-28T21:48:00.000-07:00

I finally cracked the code.
After all these years of riding I learned what my biggest problem has been. Thanks to my coaches from Team in Training, I've learned that I generally start out too fast, bonk, and suffer through cramps the rest of the ride. For the first time, I've been able to tackle a really hard ride without any leg cramps. I kept my heart rate at a reasonable level and took Endurolytes. So far, it seems to work.

Saturday, I rode 75 miles with over 10,000 feet of climbing. For a picture of pain, look at my heart rate chart from climbing Mt. Diablo three times in one day. (Known as a 3-D). No kamikaze squirrels this time - just a curious coyote.

2006-05-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

Welcome to another installment of my latest challenge. . For those of you new to receiving these updates – here's the deal: I've taken on the challenge of completing an epic endurance event with the purpose of raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. I decided to take up this challenge in honor of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last August, and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor. My goal is to raise $7,500 to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma society through the Team in Training program. My personal challenge is to complete the Tour of the California Alps, also known as the Death Ride – a one day, 130 mile ride, climbing 15,000 feet, over 5 mountain passes.

If you're interested in sponsoring me or learning what it's all about, check out my fundraising site at Steve's Team in Training Page Steve's Team in Training Page

I’ve created a blog of past updates. It also includes the unabridged version of this update. If you want to see pictures of the team and more cycling tips go to http://notabouttheback.blogspot.com/

On Training
Our sadistic coaches have stepped up the training regimen over the past few weeks. I’ve complete two grueling rides of 109 and 115 miles respectively. The 115 mile ride was particularly nasty because in addition to 9000 feet of climbing we had a 30mph headwind to fight against on the way back. It made for a long slow day. Last Saturday I rode up Mt. Diablo twice. Mt. Diablo, as its name would suggest, is not for the timid. For those of you unfamiliar with the Bay Area, Mt. Diablo, is a real 3849’ mountain, not a sinister name made up by some misdirected cyclists. Fortunately for me, or unfortunately depending upon how you look at it, the top of Mt. Diablo is 16.3 miles from the end of my driveway. Not a bad way to get in training rides. My goal is to ride it 4 times in one day. That will be a personal best and undoubtedly win me the admiration of the coyotes, squirrels, turkey buzzards, deer, and snakes that will see me several times that day.

For those of you interested in the effects of riding mountains, check out the image of my Mt. Diablo training ride. You’ll have to go to the blog. The chart shows the elevation and heart rate over time. At the very top of Mt. Diablo there’s a 1/3 mile section of 17% grade. In other words, it’s really, really steep. At the very top, there’s a large spike in my heart rate. That’s when, much like those cartoon characters that when they get excited their hearts literally pound through their chests, I’m ready to explode. Fortunately I bought a fancy heart rate monitor (HRM) with a built-in defibrillator. That way if my heart does explode, someone will have a nice HRM.

Riders – 1 Squirrels – 0
A couple updates back I wrote about the kamikaze squirrels and their amusing penchant for waiting until you’re very near and then they run in front of you. As I was riding down Mt. Diablo the first time on Saturday, a squirrel ran in front of me, juked left then right, and then returned back to the point it started. It wasn’t the first squirrel of the season, just the most brazenly annoying. I got to the bottom turned around and headed back up the same road. Near the same spot that the squirrel taunting occurred there was a cyclist coming down the mountain. He was coming to a stop and turning around to head back up. (This is odd behavior since he had not made it down the mountain yet.) Anyway, he continued up the road another 100 feet. As I was next to him I could see a squirrel lying on the pavement. Sure enough, he actually hit the taunting squirrel. I was slightly saddened as I thought of the taunting squirrel’s little squirrel friends, family and co-workers and I considered sending consolatory flowers or nuts…the thought quickly passed. As I left the little “Blood on the Highway” scene, the other cyclist was yelling at the bushes along the side of the road – “Let that be a warning to the rest of you”

What about the “Discogram”?
Last time I wrote, I was preparing to go in for a discogram. Let me preface this by saying, if your doctor ever offers one of these procedures to you, say “No”. Despite its pleasant sounding name it’s quite the opposite. This was related to me as I was talking with a nurse at the surgical center prior to the procedure. She said, “Discograms are the most painful things we do here.” If she was trying to calm me down, it wasn’t working. They injected me with valium and applied lidocaine to the treatment area – that was more effective than the nurse. I then had to lie calmly on my stomach. The doctor proceeded to insert 4 long needles into the disk tissue between my vertebrae. I know this because he gave me an x-ray picture of the needles stuck into my backbone. Then the fun begins. He injected fluid into each needle one at a time and asks me to describe the pain. Particularly he wants to know where the pain is occurring. Interestingly, though he is affecting the area in my back the pain occurs somewhere else in my body and in some happy instances, every where else. He continues this process until he can recreate the pain that I’ve been having in my back. Once he was able to do that, he can say with certainty that the problem is originating from that specific disc. Well the good news is he determined which disk is causing the problem. The bad news is they’re still not any closer to fixing it.

More Bike Riding Tips
Last update there were several bike riding tips. Of course, unless you went to the blog, you missed the better tips. You can still check them out any time you like. I thought I’d offer a few more.

Rule #5
Shift before the hill. This rule becomes more important the steeper the hill. If you wait until you’re on the hill you’ll likely drop your chain and end up t-boned on the top tube of the bicycle. Getting t-boned is the bicycling equivalent of getting a line drive to the groin. It’s the type of experience you’ll do once and know better the next time.

Rule #6
Always lie about how much you ride. If someone asks you if you do a lot of riding, always give them a ridiculously low number. The party asking is likely trying to size you up. Cyclists are pretty competitive and though they don’t say it, they’re always looking to ride better than you. If you give them a low number, they’ll think you’re a sub-par rider. Of course, they’ll figure out you lied when you pass them down the road.

Rule #7
If you’re going to yell at the driver of a car, make sure you have a quick exit strategy. The driver usually has an unfair advantage since they have the 4000 pound car to push you around. Your 20 pound bike is no match.

Rule #7a
If you’re going to yell at the driver of a car, yell loud enough for everyone around to hear. Other cyclists will think you’re a weenie if you only mutter your gripe at a driver.

Stay tuned for the next update
Next time I’ll have completed several more hundred mile rides. With the temperature increasing, it should be loads of fun. In the meantime, check out the blog and tell your friends and neighbors to sponsor me.

Steve

2006-04-25T14:42:00.000-07:00

I'm back, or if this is the first time you're seeing this, welcome. This is my third update about my latest challenge. For those of you new to receiving these updates – here's the deal: I've taken on the challenge of completing an epic endurance event with the purpose of raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. I decided to take up this challenge in honor of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last August, and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor. My goal is to raise $7,500 to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma society through the Team in Training program. My personal challenge is to complete the Tour of the California Alps, also known as the Death Ride – a one day, 130 mile ride, climbing 15,000 feet, over 5 mountain passes.

If you're interested in sponsoring me or learning what it's all about, check out my fundraising site at Steve's Team in Training Page Steve's Team in Training Page

I’ve been remiss in writing, it was our company’s end of quarter, the company was acquired by SAP, and we held a customer conference for 400 people, we started remodeling our kitchen and family room, I’ve made trips to Las Vegas, Philadelphia, and Nashville, and I’ve been squeezing training rides and trips to the doctor in between all of that. It’s been quite busy. Here’s a quick update.

On Training…
Since the last time I wrote, our coaches have found new sadistic ways to torment us. Four weeks ago we rode 65 miles in the hills on the San Francisco Peninsula. It was cold and wet. Three weeks ago, we rode 70 miles in the Berkeley Hills. It was cold and wet. Two weeks ago we rode 75 miles in the hills of Marin County. It was cold and wet. This last weekend we rode 78 miles on Saturday. It was cold and wet. On Sunday, I rode 104 miles. It was cold and windy, but not too wet. In case you haven’t picked up on it, there’s a definite pattern to our sadistic adventures… we always ride in the hills. Each ride gets hillier and longer. And as hard as the rides are, there only half of what the Death Ride will be.

In the picture, I'm the third on the left. This is the group with whom I've been training. If they all look faster than me, it's because they are.

Last Sunday’s ride was called the Primavera Century. I’ve concluded that “Primavera” is Latin for “wind in your face”. So not only was it cold and sometimes wet, the wind was blowing at least 20mph for much of the way. The wind pattern in the east bay is that it doesn’t start picking until the afternoon. So in the morning, when I was supposed to be riding with the wind, it wasn’t blowing me along. When I turned around and headed back to Fremont from Livermore, it was blowing against me the whole way. Wind is just nature’s way for providing hills for people that live in flat areas.

On Fundraising…
I’m pleased to say I’ve hit the $6,500 level for my fundraising efforts. Thanks to everyone who has donated. As I said in my previous email, I’m shooting for $7,500. As a special offer for anyone that donates over $100 in the month of May, I am offering a bike tune-up (parts, if needed, not included). I've resurrected a few bikes that have been in disrepair. I'm sure I can help you out.

On Bike Riding Tips…
I’ve decided to impart some of the helpful tips that I’ve learned in this training process. I’m providing them as words of wisdom for other riders

Rule #1 – When riding down hill, keep your mouth closed…tightly. There is nothing worse than when you’ve just finished a climb and as you’re catching your breath going downhill, you swallow a bug. Usually a bug in the mouth is easily remedied with some convulsive hacking and spitting and a healthy assortment of expletives.

Rule #2 – When you have to spit, spit to the right. Spitting is usually caused by a bug in the mouth, see rule #1. Savvy riders know to pass on left. But since your mind is usually occupied with other thoughts, you won’t be aware that they’re trying to pass you. Therefore spitting to the right is simply good manners. As a general principle, other riders don’t like to be spat upon. They will either think that you’re rather impolite or you are from England (where they ride on the wrong side of the road). They may retaliate by spitting back, squirting you with their water bottles, or other rather disgusting tactics. The exception to this rule is when you’re passing someone. In which case, spitting to the right is very much frowned upon. Then they’ll think you’re boorish or a professional rider from France. In which case, you better ride like a professional rider, because the response is likely to be most unpleasant.

Rule #3 – Always pass on the left. If you don't know why, you haven't been reading.

Rule #4 – When traveling downhill, zip up your bike jersey. Three times I’ve had bees fly into my jersey. It’s pretty unpleasant too. No, I have never had a bee fly into my mouth. The worst incident was when I was traveling down a four lane highway at 50mph. Traffic was still passing me and I didn’t have a safe place to stop. Usually when something is stinging you, you grab the area of your jersey in the vicinity of the stinging you bunch it up in your hand and try to squish whatever it was that was stinging you. By the way, it’s always good practice to wear a colorful jersey; it hides the squished bugs better. Anyway, while traveling at 50mph, taking a hand of the handlebar is not a good idea. The bee stung or bit me three times before I could stop.

More useful tips to come in future updates.

On riding, not walking…
I’m sad to say that the ongoing back treatments have been ineffective. I can ride my bike, I just can’t walk or lie down without significant pain. The doctor is scheduled to do a “discogram” next Monday. One would think it’s a singing telegram that specializes in Bee Gees songs. Instead, iIt’s a detailed analysis of the disks in the back to determine exactly what the problem is. Until then it’s ibuprofen every four hours.

Thank you again for your support. Stay tuned for future updates.

Steve

2006-03-11T22:01:00.000-08:00

My Latest Challenge – Update #3

This is my third update about my latest challenge. For those of you new to receiving these updates – here’s the deal: I’ve taken on the challenge of completing an epic endurance event with the purpose of raising money to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. I decided to take up this challenge in honor of my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last August, and my friend Stacy Bowman, who is a leukemia survivor. My goal is to raise $7,500 to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma society through the Team in Training program. My personal challenge is to complete the Tour of the California Alps, also known as the Death Ride – a one day, 130 mile ride, climbing 15,000 feet, over 5 mountain passes.

If you’re interested in sponsoring me or learning what it’s all about, check out my fundraising site at Steve’s Team in Training Page Steve's Team in Training Page

Updates:

Why Quit Now…
Thanks to the generous contributions of so many of you, I’ve reached my original goal of $5,000. So of course, with a few months to go before the ride, I’ve raised my goal by 50% to $7,500. After meeting so many cancer survivors and patients, I know it’s going to a great cause.

They shouldn’t call it the Death Ride, they should call it Death Training…
We’re one month into the training regimen and we’re piling on the miles. We’re routinely doing 60 miles every Saturday and will be up to 100 miles by April. The coaches make it a point to find the hilliest routes they can. We also learned that bikes work just fine in the rain. On one ride through the Oakland hills, we had to navigate around patches of ice lest we go sliding off the road. With the recent snow in the bay area, we had an even colder and wetter ride. It’s bad enough that bike shorts are akin to riding in your underwear, but when the water from the rear tire sprays up your back and on your shorts, that just adds insult to the misery. Not to mention the fashion faux pas of having a brown strip running down your spine, making you look like an enormous spandex clad chipmunk.

There’s a reason why the best riders are so small…
Our coaches are on the smallish side, tipping the scales at a buck fifty. I and some of my teammates tip the scales on the north side of 200 pounds. We are quick to point out to them, that because we weigh more, we’re doing much more work than they are – (a point that I proved with a lengthy physics discussion on one ride) It did not deter them from prodding us up another hill. They refer to us as “Clydesdales”. I’m beginning to think there’s a little bit of sadist in some of the coaches. If they make us pull a wagon as part of the training, I’m going to put my hoof…er…foot down.

What’s the hardest part of riding?
Some people may talk about the long hours in the saddle or the agony of leg cramps, but those are minor irritants. Come spring and summer the country roads, particularly on Mount Diablo and the Alameda Creek trail, will be besieged by the bane of many cyclists…kamikaze squirrels. I have ridden countless times down a road, approaching a squirrel that’s sitting up on the side of the pavement. As soon as you are within a couple feet, he darts right in front of you. Usually a quick swerve avoids disaster. I’ve had a couple occasions where the squirrels run between the front and rear tire. I’m just thankful that one hasn’t tried to jump through the spokes. I’ve heard riders tell their tales of broken spokes while tactfully avoiding the distasteful description of what befell the poor squirrel. I’m thankful that my lunch time rides to MC Hammer’s old house is not a squirrel-riddled route – yet.

If you want to know more about why I’m doing this and some of the tips picked up along the way, you can visit It's Not About the Back

If you want to be removed from this email, just drop me an email. I know you get lots of email, so I won’t take it personally.

Thanks,
Steve

2006-03-04T19:03:00.000-08:00

Thank you to everyone that has sponsored me for my challenge of raising $5,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and for my personal challenge of cycling 130 miles, 5 mountain passes, and climbing 15,000 feet. I am raising money in tribute to my mother-in-law, Margie Griffin, who passed away from leukemia last year and for my friend Stacy Bowman who is in remission from leukemia.

Instead of repeating the previous emails, I'll answer a few questions that people have sent:

What about the back?
Many of you know that I had back surgery to repair a herniated disk in December 2004. This prevented me from doing this ride last year. In November of last year, two lower disks in my back decided to degenerate further. My doctor, who happens to be a cyclist, has committed to keeping me together until the ride. (Much to his better judgment, of course.) So every week I get shots of ozone in my back to relieve the swelling - I'll skip the details. We'll keep it together until July. After all, to paraphrase Lance Armstrong, it's not about the back.

Is that ride you're doing called "The Death Ride"?
Actually, yes. I preferred not to use that terminology because it seemed less than politically correct. Regardless, it is known as "The Death Ride" or the more recent, "Tour of the California Alps". It gets its name from the simple fact, it is really hard to do. Half of the people that attempt it, don't finish. Do I have to donate now?You can donate whenever you feel like it. I set the deadline for April so people would not forget. My wife's cousin made a donation of $1 per mile, she paid up front to make sure I completed the ride. If anyone wants to donate $1 per foot of elevation gain, I won't turn them down :-D.

Can I send you a check instead of donating online?
Yes. Drop me an email and I'll send you the instructions.Will you make your goals?I am 100% confident that I will reach the fundraising goals. I will probably raise my goal. Don't worry, I won't ask people to sponsor me twice. As for completing the ride, the miracle of modern medicine will get me through.

How can I get you to stop sending emails?
Drop me a line and I'll take you off the distribution list.

Again the link to my fundraising page is http://www.active.com/donations/fundraise_public.cfm?key=SAsche

Thanks for your support,
Steve

2006-03-04T19:02:00.000-08:00

The last time I wrote to you I told you about my latest challenge - to raise $5,000 to fight Leukemia and Lymphoma in honor of my mother in law, Margie Griffin, and my friend Stacy Bowman. As part of my personal challenge, I've been training to ride 130 miles and climb 5 mountain passes in one day. So far 16 people have donated to help me fight leukemia and lymphoma. Many more have offered their support. I've been overwhelmed by the response. There have been many people that responded that said they had a relative or friend who passed away. The stories have been gut wrenching to say the least.

So far I'm at 25% of my fundraising goal. Thank you again to all of you who have sponsored me. In addition to the fundraising, I've begun my training for the ride. The first official training ride was this week and it was a fast and chilly 25 mile ride. The group I am in has two people who are cancer survivors. One common comment from the cancer survivors is that they profess that they're fortunate and lucky. That they're also planning to do the same grueling ride is especially impressive.

If you are considering sponsoring me or if you'd like to forward this email to an associate, you can visit my web page at http://www.active.com/donations/fundraise_public.cfm?key=SAsche

Thanks for your support,
Steve

2006-03-04T18:59:00.000-08:00

Hi All,
After many years of self-indulgence, I thought it was high time to do something meaningful. Last August my mother-in-law passed away from leukemia. She was very close to my family. So I decided to find a cause that would help others that were fighting leukemia and lymphoma. The Team in Training organization does just that - by raising funds for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. So as part of my tribute to her I've decided to raise $5,000 by April in her honor.

Team in Training raises millions of dollars to fight blood cancers, help victims, and raise awareness. As part of the challenge I'm taking on a personal challenge of completing a grueling 130 mile bike ride over 5 mountain passes on July 8th. The personal challenge is a symbolic way of showing that great challenges, like fighting blood cancers, can be defeated. With continued research and care for the afflicted, these diseases will be overcome.
This is a great cause and, having seen the effects of leukemia first hand, know that these are diseases that have to be overcome. If you, or anyone you know are interested in supporting this cause please check out my web page at http://www.active.com/donations/fundraise_public.cfm?key=SAsche

Thanks for your support,
Steve