It’s been over eight years since my dad died from lung cancer. Memories of him come back at odd times. Sometimes I’ll say something to my wife and the pacing and inflection of my voice makes me think, “That’s exactly the way my dad talked.” Or my kids will be telling me about the fun they’ve had doing something fast and a little reckless, like racing each other down a snowy mountain on skis and snowboards. That’s not my idea of fun, but it was my dad’s. It makes me a little sad they didn’t get the time to know him better. I think they would have had a lot of fun together.
One thing I’ve done as a semi-regular remembrance for my dad is participate in Obliteride, a fundraising bike ride for the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center in Seattle. I started in 2016, the year my dad died, but missed a few years when the pandemic knocked me out of my normal routines. If you knew my dad, you’d know that a bike ride is a terrible way to remember him! While he had an old steel 10-speed bicycle (I used it when I was learning how to shift gears on a bike), I have no memory of him ever riding one. Harley Davidsons were his two-wheeled vehicle of choice. I guess that’s the thing about being dead, though; you don’t get to pick how people remember you. I choose to remember him while carrying his treasured ring, wearing lycra, and sweating. He’ll have to deal with that.
This past weekend was my fifth Obliteride. I convinced my wife to join me, and we rode the 50-mile route. Obliteride is an extremely well-produced event! It starts with a kick-off party on Friday night at Gas Works park. Then at the starting line on Saturday morning, they have great speakers — cancer survivors, all — who remind you how Fred Hutch helps people every day. The rest stops along the route have plentiful snacks and the finish line party is well stocked with food, beer, and music. What I appreciate the most about riding, though, is how I feel connected to a larger community that, when confronted by the demon that is cancer, refuses to be passive.
It’s so easy to think: This thing is so big and I am so small. What can I do? The Obliteride community answers: This. You can do this.
One thing my years of Obliteride have taught me, though: I’m good at avoiding uncomfortable things. Remember that for me, a bike commuter, spending hours riding isn’t the hard part — my butt is used to the saddle. No, what I find deeply awkward is asking people for money. For three out of the five years I’ve participated, I’ve simply treated the ride as a reminder that it’s time for my annual personal donation to cancer research. I wish I was better at doing the uncomfortable thing! In the two years I asked for people to sponsor me, my friends, family, and coworkers contributed almost $20,000 towards curing cancer faster. They were amazing. I can’t help but feel I let them and the community down each year I choose to be meek instead of bold.
This thing is so big and I am so small. What can I do? This: Even though it was a meek year, even though it’s not how my dad would choose to be remembered: I made my contribution, pedaled my miles, did my part.