No big secret, I love riding bikes. If the title of my blog, Bikes Kill Cancer, didn’t give it away then consider yourself in the know now.
I love riding bikes so much I’ll even ride when the temps are in the negatives.
Below you will find a link to my latest YouTube video on my channel. Yep, you guessed it. It’s also called Bikes Kill Cancer. Anyone sensing a theme here.
Anyway, I realized quite quickly that I don’t have much to add to the conversation for people who’ve been riding bikes for a long time. I do feel that if you are new or only been riding bikes for a short while that I may have something to offer.
So this video is for all those folks who discovered the joy of riding bikes during the pandemic and maybe need a little motivation or nudge to take their cycling to the next level. That next level is different for each of us but I’m willing to bet that you can find at least one thing in this list that will keep the stoke going in 2023.
Check it out and I hope you like it. If you do give it a thumbs up and a follow.
I thought finishing the Leadville 100 MTB race was cool. Even cooler is getting asked to blog about it for the organization that helped me get into then event to begin with.
Click the link below and head on over to First Descents web page to read my blog and learn a little bit more about an incredible organization.
Today was the one year anniversary of the Head & Neck Cancer Support Group I participate in every month. It’s strange how I respond to this group. They keep the insanity in my brain sane.
Most everyday I think about cancer. My cancer in particular. Almost two years post treatment, several all’s clear PET scan later and I still think about it.
I think about it when I’m massaging and stretching my scar that run along the right side of my neck or when I go to shave and realize there’s no facial hair along my right jawline for me to even shave.
I curse it when I wake in the middle of the night to search for a lozenge. My mouth sand paper dry due to underperforming salivary glands.
“What if Lance the Lump comes back and invites his friends, too?”
I am just tired of thinking about it. I am over cancer interrupting my thoughts and daily routine.
I’m so done with thinking about cancer that I haven’t written in this blog in months because the idea of writing about cancer just leaves me tired.
The monthly H&NC Support group is different. All we talk about is cancer. The long term side effects of our treatments. The trouble we have swallowing. We share tips on good dental hygiene to keep our teeth healthy after weeks of radiation treatment. Cancer. cancer. cancer and more cancer.
Somedays I resent being a #cancersurvivor, a #cancerthriver, and #cancerwarrior.
The suggestion that I did something extraordinary rubs me the wrong way. Despite what the media, Instagram and the American Cancer Society want you to believe I am no different than anyone else trying to get by in this world.
I’m not above using cancer hashtags to promote my Instagram account and I see the hypocrisy in my anger, but I’m still pissed.
I did not draw my trusty sword or put on combat gear to fight cancer. I did nothing more than what anyone of you would do when sick. I listened to my doctors, took my medicine and got plenty of rest. Cancer is like having the flu but instead of chicken noodle soup, it’s lots of radiation and the hope you can actually keep the soup down.
I got lucky.
I got lucky that my cancer was discovered early in Stage II. I got lucky that the treatment methods for head and neck cancer has advanced by leaps in bounds over the last ten years.
I was fortunate that I had a job that afford me health insurance and the time off to seek treatment and concentrate on my health and recovery.
Why resent such a noble titles as survivor, thriver and warrior?
Because when you attach cancer to the front of each it evokes pity and sadness from your audience.
I don’t need your pity. I need you to get angry, scared and ask what can I do so I and my loved ones don’t get cancer.
I need you to be the warrior.
I need you to stand up and say this is enough.
I need you to make sure your loved ones get their HPV vaccines.
I need you to stop smoking.
I need you to exercise more and eat more fresh fruits and vegetables and cut down on that crap that is passed to you through your car window that you’ve been led to believe constitutes a meal.
I need you to wake the fuck up.
I need you to turn out the lights as you leave the pity part and make sure the door doesn’t hit you in the ass on the way out.
Music plays constantly in my life as I am a firm believer in creating your own soundtrack as we move through this world. This collection of musings is on various songs that help shape the soundtrack of my life.
Say to someone, you love Southern rock and they will think you are talking about the Allman Brothers or Molly Hatchet, but for me the Southern rock that defined my teenage and college years came straight out of Athens, GA with bands like Kilkenny Cats, Pylon and the venerable REM.
More than any band, REM has played in the background of my life from love and heartache to long drinking sessions with friend on the front porch.
Like warm filling comfort food there is no time bad time for REM.
The opening lines of Can’t Get There From Here…
When the world is a monster/Bad to swallow you whole/Kick the clay that holds the teeth in/Throw your trolls out the door
have always rang true to me. Maybe for the the simple fact that I could actually understand them. Michael Stipe is not known for singing clearly and often mumbles out words as if his mouth was filled with boiled peanuts.
This past year the words have taken on more meaning in a simple metaphor of cancer is that monster trying to swallow me whole and I will not go softly. Kicking and throwing that troll out the door.
Four days ago I went to for my annual monster check up via a PET scan. I am still waiting for the results but either way I am ready if they monster returns.
To have cancer back in my life unnerves me and makes my stomach dance with butterflies.
“If you world is a monster/Bad to swallow you whole”
So here I wait with my foot at the ready to kick back ’cause I won’t be swallowed whole.
Let’s set some expectations right away, if you are reading this and expecting to find 100 useful, thoughtful and mind blowing words of wisdom then prepare to be disappointed.
First and foremost as I write this my list is about 70 items short. If these learnings are anything like my past educational experiences, I am gong to come up short. Think C- instead of A+. I will do my best to pay attention and be a dutiful student but in the end I’ll probably get distracted by a shiny object. This means I will do one of two things.
One, change the title to “59 1/2 I’ve Learned Since Being Diagnosed with Cancer.”
Two, call this a running list and hope that it fills itself out.
Now for the mind blowing part or lack of mind blowing. Don’t get your hopes up. This is nothing more than a list I started compiling at the beginning of 2021 for no reason other than I was just frustrated with myself. I honestly believed that having and surviving cancer was going to somehow transcend me into a deeper understanding of myself and the universe. Maybe it has, maybe it hasn’t, but all I know is I haven’t had that Luke Skywalker like moment where I become one with the Force and lift the X-wing fighter out of the swamp.
If you are looking for something a little more than what I have listed below then you are in luck. A quick internet search of “100 things I’ve learned” will yield 257,000,000 results. I am sure you can find something in there that will blow your mind or at least allow you to say something thought provoking at the next cocktail party you attend. Assuming we get to have cocktail parties in 2021.
“Come on Uncle Joe we need that vaccine, stat! Cocktail parties are counting on you.” says every single person who is sick of drinking with their friends via Zoom.
There are a lot of folks out there willing to share what they have learned. Many have list of 100 things and to be honest I’m a bit jealous and maybe a bit motivated, too.
There’s this red headed woman who has a lot to say. I’m not sure if having red hair makes her smarter but she does bring attention to it. For the record I am married to a red head and she is pretty darn smart so maybe this one is worth looking into.
Feel like taking advice from someone who is only been on the planet a little over a quarter of a century? Saurabh Rane is your man then. Surprisingly, his list is pretty good, too. I know when I was 28 much less now at 51 I would be pressed to come up with 100 insightful things I’ve learned. Hell at 28 I was still tending bar and going to school for a second time. Added bonus for Saurabh is the fact that he has camped at 19,000 feet, does TED talks and is trying to make the world a better place.
One last note, this list does not go 100-1, mainly for the fact that it’s hard to count down from 100 when you only have 3o items on your list. So here goes, 30 things in counting in no particular order that I’ve learned since being diagnosed with cancer.
Friends and family are everything
Strangers can also be incredible
Sleep. Sleep a lot
Listen to your body. See number 3. Sleep when your body says, “sleep”
Establish a routine of self-care
Exercise as much as your body will allow.
Learn to breathe.
Eat well
Sometimes you have to eat crap food (I’m looking at your McDonald’s vanilla shake) because that is the only thing your body will tolerate as you move through treatment.
Get outside. Nature heals. Sunshine on your face is like being kissed by warm lipped angels.
Pets. Especially cats and dogs.
You don’t appreciate your salivary glands until radiation fries them
Trust the science. Someone selling your herbal cures via Facebook is trying to make a buck off your situation and fears
It’s okay to be scared
It’s okay to be vulnerable
It’s okay to frustrated with everything and everyone
Make sure you apologize to the folks you get frustrated with for no apparent reason
Share your story. It could save someone’s life
Embrace reading. TV’s great when you have no energy for anything, but reading will take you away, educate and increase your capacity for understanding.
Write down your feelings and thoughts. Share them if you want to.
More than likely after surviving cancer you will come out the other end wondering how you can give back and make a difference. Do what you can. No deed is too small to not have an impact.
You’ll realize that not all your friends will see this through with you. That’s okay because you will appreciate the ones who do see it through with you even more.
Even after you are “cancer free”, it will always be with you.
Self-doubt is a powerful and scary negative feeling
Eat lots of fresh fruits and veggies
Embrace the moment. No matter how shity it is, in someway it is making you a better and stronger person.
Just because you are stuck at home doesn’t mean you can’t grow and learn.
Get your vaccines. No one wants to survive cancer to just end up dying from the flu.
Your health and safety come first.
Humility
The “what if” game will eat you a live. “What if die? What if I had taken better care of myself? What if I had gone to church more often?” None of what you did or didn’t do matters now. You can only go forward. Try and go forward with what you have learned from your past.
Go easy on the sugar
That goes for alcohol, too
If you are a guy, you are not doing yourself and the people around you any good by trying to be tough. Cancer sucks and sometimes it makes you hurt. Be vulnerable. You’ll feel better and the people close to you will appreciate seeing the real you.
You don’t have to apologize for missing work because you have cancer. Sometimes you just feel like ass from your treatments and work just isn’t that important.
Cancer’s not funny, but that shouldn’t stop you from laughing
Don’t be afraid to ask questions
If you don’t understand the answer, ask for clarification.
The internet can be a great portal to learning more about your disease, but be careful of the rabbit hole that it can lead you down.
Careful Alice. You don’t know what’s down there.
Drink lots of water
Write stuff, like your feelings, down in a journal. Or don’t
Cancer treatments will beat you down and leave you feeling weak and helpless. When the time is right add some strength training to your life. You will love how you feel as your body gets stronger.
I use to think walking was boring. An “exercise” for old people in Florida. I was wrong. Walking around my neighborhood was my first step toward returning to “normal”. Go for a walk.
Forty-four was Hank Aaron’s number. We could all try to be a little more like Hank.
Be okay with getting it wrong the first time, the second time, and the third…
If you want people on your team, treat them like teammates.
New friends aren’t better than old friends nor are your old friends better than your new friends, they’re just different kinds of friends. Embrace them all.
Sitting on your front porch in the sun with people you care about and who care about you is the best.
Wear sunscreen. Especially on your surgery scars and areas where your skin has been radiated.
Cats don’t give one fuck if you have cancer. They will still walk across your laptop while you are trying to work just as easily as they will curl up with you for a nap.
Really, I just don’t care.
Healthcare professionals are people, too. They make mistakes. Cut them slack. They only want the best for you. Remember you don’t know what their days been like before they saw you nor do you know what lies ahead for them the rest of the day. There’s a good chance it has or will involve a lot stress. Remember that before you freak out because you had to wait a little longer in the waiting room.
Celebrate the milestones and then plan on how you are going to get to the next one. One step at a time.
Join a support group.
Don’t settle for just good enough.
Somedays you won’t be good enough. That’s okay. We all have room to improve.
Take to time to reimagine yourself
Sometimes the objective opinion of a stranger maybe helpful if you are trying to reinvent yourself.
Small set backs can seem huge, but probably aren’t. Stop. Breathe. Evaluate. More forward.
A lot of this list probably seems like complete bullshit as it pertains to your life, your experience and where you are in your head. It probably is so create your own list for perspective, reflection and learning.
Use your “down time” at home while recovering to get to know your neighbors. Hint- the ones that like dogs are usually the best.
Don’t discount the “cat people”
The say that it takes 30 days to build new habits. Sometimes it takes even longer. Stick with it. You’ve got this.
Buy a new laptop. Life is too short to wait for web pages to open and programs to run.
Don’t be afraid to don’t cry. See my post Boys Don’t Cry for more on this one.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help.
Try to help others when you can.
Sit down and listen to an entire album from start to finish, not just songs on a playlist or shuffle mode. Trust me it’s different and better and many artist actually create their albums as a unified body of work to be listened to continuously.
Talk radio is not news. It is people with an agenda.
This is Bill and Ted’s favorite number.
Take time to indulge in great bad films like Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
Sweat pants and hoodies are the best, but every once in a while you should get dressed before going out.
Don’t underestimate yourself.
Fix something.
Don’t try to fix others. They have to want to fix themselves. Your job is support and encourage them when they are ready.
Supplements will not cure your cancer (or make you healthier), but if your doctor tells you to take one there’s probably a good reason for it so listen to her.
Go to an art museum. It will challenge you, soothe your soul and inspire you.
Puppies smell good.
Noise cancelation headphones are a great for a quick escape no matter where you are.
You won’t realize how fucked our health care system is until you are deep in it.
Things that felt “normal” will take on more meaning & importance after cancer.
Don’t forget to tell the ones you care about that you love and appreciate them.
Learn to meditate. Hint – it takes time
Buy yourself something nice.
Buy something nice for someone else
Having cancer is like a country song- your truck won’t start, your girlfriend/wife has left you and your dog dies.
Get a cancer notebook. You’re going to be swamped with information, appointments and med schedules. There is no way you can keep it al straight in your head.
Once you are better (aka- cancer free or no evidence of disease) you will be amazed at how much more healing there is still left to do.
Experience shapes us. Don’t be surprised if you come out on the other side of all this a different person.
Make more time for the people that are important to you. The return is much higher than spreading yourself too thin.
Write and send thank you notes, not texts not emails. Actual thank you notes that require a stamp and the service of the US Post Office
You don’t know how much joy the pleasure of taste brings in to your life until radiation fries your taste buds.
Even when you can’t taste, cooking for others is still a pleasurable activity. You just have to trust they are being honest when they say the meal taste good.
Recovering from cancer can mean lots of time convalescing in bed. Invest in quality pillows and bedsheets.
Telling me your (insert relative/friend here) died from cancer does nothing to give me hope or optimism. I’m sorry for your loss but at the same time I am trying to stay positive.
Being alone with your thoughts for extended periods of time can be scary.
Being alone with your thoughts for extended periods of time can also really help you gain perspective and new outlook.
Cancer changed me physically and mentally but I’m still the same person just better.
Telling the people that you love that you have cancer is harder than hearing you have cancer. Saying it out loud makes it real for everyone.
“I got 99 problems but cancer ain’t one”
When you get that NED (no evidence of disease) diagnosis the hardest thing is trying to figure out what you are going to do with the rest of your life.
Wow! I can’t believe I finished the list. If you are a cancer survivor or the care giver of someone with cancer, I would love to hear what cancer has taught you. Leave your comments below.
My cancer journey. You see it with a hashtag attached to it and if you spend anytime talking with someone who has cancer they will often mention it.
What is it, you ask? In short, it’s a way that the cancer community politely says “I will never get used to this f’ed up lifestyle that is caused by this disease that, while the medical community continues to make great strides in curing, still throws curve balls at me, which often leave me feeling confused and alone but, despite all those associated lows, I still experience some incredible days that are full of awe and wonder.”
Really, though, what is it?
Well, it’s a journey for sure but maybe the easiest way to explain it is to think about it as a hike.
Hold my beer. I’m going on a cancer journey. I mean, a hike.
This is how the hike plays out:
One day you’re sitting around the house or maybe at work and the phone rings. It’s your doctor. You just went and saw her the other day because you just haven’t been feeling all that great. She confirms the worst fear you have about your health. Quickly, though, she lets you know that there may be help available for you in the form of a hike.
She goes on tell you that it will be a difficult hike though, tougher, in fact, than any hike you have ever done. She doesn’t say it but you infer what she means: ‘This hike is often worse than your current health issues and, quite honestly, not everyone finishes it. Best of luck to you.’
A week or so later you start hiking. You would have preferred to start immediately but there was a ton of paperwork you had to fill out first, both for work and for your insurance company. Insurance company? Why do you need permission to go on the hike, you ask? Well, you don’t. Unless, of course, you don’t want to pay for all the expenses yourself and then, well, you do.
At first the hike is pretty easy. Almost becoming routine, you march forward, one foot in front of the other. The days tick by and you occasionally pass other hikers. They’re all friendly but many of them look worn down and seem to stumble along the trail. You stop to chat. After all, you’re all on the same journey, right? You try to hide your alarm as some of them mention that this is their second, third or even fourth time on this particular hike. It is also about this time that you first hear about Ned, whose name is always said with reverence, as if he is some mythical and elusive unicorn.
By the third week this hike is really starting to wear on you. You can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that’s causing your incredible fatigue. Perhaps it’s the fact that all your food has begun tasting like metal. You know you should eat because you need the energy but somedays you just don’t feel like eating. In fact, the more tired you get, the less and less you feel like eating at all.
When night falls you are thoroughly exhausted. You’ve actually been exhausted all day but you’ve had to keep moving forward, whether you wanted to or not. You continue to pass others on the trail or perhaps they pass you because, to be honest, you’re not moving very swiftly. Some of these passersby offer their most sincere words of encouragement. They tell you that you are a warrior and inspiration! You hardly feel like either of those things, though. You just feel tired and in desperate need of sleep.
As your head moves in a slow arc toward your pillow, you smile at the restoration that you imagine will ensue. Your soft pillow and fluffy down sleeping bag, both of which were so warm and comforting just a few weeks ago, rub angrily against your sensitive skin and irritate it to no end. You seize. What’s up with you, Skin? Your flesh is so immeasurably tender that the slightest touch immediately sends a rush of tiny embers of pain richocheting throughout your body. Your skin is cracked and peeling. An Oil of Ole model you are most definitely not. You plead with your skin to mercilessly stop and allow you to sleep and sometimes, just sometimes, it relents just enough to get through the night.
When you awake the next morning, however, you are usually no more rested than you were the night before. By the way, why are there clumps of your hair floating around in the tent? Weird. You touch your hand to your head and come back with a handful of hair…
Now you are taking on the same look of some of the other hikers you’ve seen on this trail. You’ve gone ahead and shaved your head. Why bother and wait for the slow and inevitable loss? Bald is beautiful, right? That’s what all the hikers say, at least. They continue to cheer you on. Like it or not, you are now a bald and inspiring warrior. Or so you’re told. In truth, you just feel like shit.
You’re not sure how much further you can go on this hike. You talk to others and hear stories about other hikers who gave up on looking for Ned. You’re still not even sure about this Ned guy. All you know is that it is imperative that you find him. You ask them why others gave up on Ned and everyone seems to have a different explanation.
Many hikers simply run out of money, as their insurance companies (if they even have that luxury) provide such little financial assistance that they have no other choice but to make the futile attempt to pay for their own medical expenses. Almost inevitably, those people are overrun with debt, which is so incredibly burdensome that it weights on the them like a 500 lbs backpack. With each step forward, this gross and unrelenting weight on their backs causes people to bend over further and further until they can hardly lift their heads enough to see the trail ahead of them. You think back to your first “bill” for this hike (a whopping $36,000!) and count your lucky stars that your insurance covered as much as it had so far.
Absolutely NO ONE has chosen to go on this wretched hike, yet it becomes obvious that some are better prepared than others. Some wear fancy hiking boots and carry carbon walking sticks. Some are even afforded a sherpa to carry their packs for them. Others, however, walk along on their tired and badly blistered bare feet, all their belongings stuffed in a paper bag.
This rude lack of equality weighs heavily on you but, like so many others on this trail, your own pack has gotten so heavy that all you can do is trudge forward, eyes on the ground, one foot in front of the other. You promise yourself that when this is all over you’ll give back and help make a difference. Again, though, you’ve got to find this Ned guy first.
What sucks is you still can’t eat. It hurts to swallow. Hell, it hurts to breathe. You’re losing weight. As the pack shifts and pulls across your shoulders it leaves weeping open sores. Some of your fellow hikers tout different kinds of miracle creams to help with the painful sores. Their suggestions help but only temporarily. You often wake up stuck to your sleeping bag in the morning, as all the sores oozed and then dried throughout the night.
The sun has beaten you when you arrive at your next camp. It is quite dark and a small group of hooded hikers sits around a fire. You stand on the edge of the shadows and listen to their quiet conversations. They talk about those hikers that are still seeking Ned. Some, they say, will find Ned and move forward, continuing to contribute to society for many years to come. Others, sadly, will come close but never actually find Ned. The figures roll the bones and make notes on their tally sheets. Your eyes grow big in horror. Tonight you sleep in the bushes, as you’re afraid to enter the circle of campfire light.
Your feet drag like the days. On and on and on. And then…
NED, 1o Miles
You can hardly believe it! For real?! Your pace and heart quicken. The day, however, drags on as does the next one and the one after that. NEVER has ten miles taken seemed like such a long and unattainable distance! You try to remain optimistic about the rest of your hike but worry and doubt have pushed against your thoughts and they slowly take over.
What if Ned isn’t there? What if I don’t make it?
You keep pushing and pushing yourself until one day you look up and you realize that you’ve finally found him!
NED!
No Evidence of Disease. His is the name that every cancer patient wants to hear. Some hear it sooner than others while still some never do. Others hear it more than once, as their cancer journeys often start over. Sometimes months later. Sometimes years later.
Finding Ned is undoubtedly the most joyous day for every hiker on this path. The grueling back-breaking pack of doubt, worry and anxiety you’ve been carefully balancing has finally and mercifully been removed. You take a deep breath and stand up a little straighter, a little stronger. You are now ready to face whatever is next for you, which, hopefully, is a trek far, far removed from that which you just endured–and survived!
Bikes Kill Cancer 