N.K. Murray

I wanted to take a few days after my return from the Empire State Ride to collect my thoughts before I put them down here. Not because I needed the break, but more because I don’t know that I’ve fully processed what happened last week. I mean. . . I rode my bike (most) of the way across New York State.

WHO DOES THAT?

Quite a few of us, actually. In some way, we are all touched by cancer. Some have it. Some have lost someone or multiple someones. Some work with it. We all felt compelled to have an impact instead of just allowing ourselves to be impacted. While I, and many of my fellow riders, had done the Ride for Roswell, taking on a 7-day cross-state bike ride was something much more significant – in time, energy, effort, emotion and most of all, overall dedication. You can’t just hop on your bike tomorrow and say, I’m going to do it! Hell. . . I learned you can’t just train when you have a “free” moment and call it good enough. You can’t just sign up on the day of because you’re bored. It takes something (crazy) within you to say that you want to do this, instead of just throwing money at a cause to make it shut up and disappear. A cross-state bike ride is loud and obnoxious and in-your-face and makes people AWARE that those who are crazy enough to bring about change, usually do.

All of that aside, this week was many things for me. It was cathartic to the extent I shared more than I would usually about how my parents’ deaths impact me. (Well, outside of the audience who may read what I write, of course.) It was painful, because I had to feel all of the feelings that I hate feeling. It was difficult, because I had to get beyond the war inside my head to let my body just do what it needed to do to get me across the state. It was enjoyable because all of these strangers that I met are now friends. It was inspiring, because I saw people doing something that others thought was insane.

I realized there’s a lot that I can do in a week.

• I realized it is possible to have ridden a bike for 7 years (well outside of those years as a kid, of course), and still learn more in one week about how to improve than you did in that whole time previously.
• I learned that it’s sometimes okay to not be okay, even if you’re not okay with not being okay.
• I’ve learned to find the humor (after the fact) of telling bad drivers they’re Richards and informing them they are number one to me. (you get it, if you get it.)
• I’ve learned to be a better rider because I had to be, instead of a better rider because I wanted to be, and that made me learn ALL that much faster. Now, I WANT to be a better rider. Funny how that works.
• I can write upside down on my own leg with a sharpie – because I had to. Those names KEPT ME GOING ALL WEEK LONG.

I’ve also learned there’s still a lot I cannot do.

• I can’t get rid of the anger and my buddy Grief. I tried – I really tried. Perhaps it’s because I’m wound so tight naturally, or perhaps it’s because I’ve learned that the tighter I’m wound, the harder it is for new things to get in and wound me, but the anger honestly propelled me across the state. Grief gave me a few bad moments.
• I had the illusion, or perhaps the delusion that I could muscle my way through the Empire State Ride the way I muscle myself through everything else in my life. I thrive off being told I shouldn’t or can’t do something, to the extent I will make myself miserable to prove someone wrong – even if that someone is myself. Right now – I am the world’s okayest cyclist, and I’m kind of good with that, because it gives me a goal.
• The self-doubt demon has been crowding out the rest of my demons as of late, and on Saturday, all of my demons went head to head on Saunders Settlement Road. I pulled over on the side of the road, and just sobbed into my handlebars because I was yet again, riding my fucking bike ONLY because I had lost so much in my life. Being tired, being sad, being sore, being angry, NONE of that was an excuse to stop. Yet, I had to take a minute to let ALL of that out so that I could go on, because all I could think about was everything I promised my parents I would do, and everything that I am not currently, and how those two points on the map were miles apart on the road I was on. Knowing that the pain I was feeling both emotionally and physically was keeping me from finishing, was ironically the motivation I needed to finish.

I did many things I normally wouldn’t do. I spend a lot of my time alone, working remotely during the day and not really hanging out with too many people in my “free” time. This week though –

• I spent the week with people I’ve never met.
• I spent the week with cyclists who (literally!) made me appear as though I was walking while they passed next to me and inspired me to want to do more and better.
• I spent the week with staff who kept me smiling when I was sad and angry at not being able to do what I had set out to do for whatever reason.
• I spent the week with friends who kept me laughing on my bike when all I wanted to do was grab a drink and sleep and be AWAY from everything.

All in all, I still finished 75% of the mileage and rode each day. Was it what I expected? No. But that’s the funny thing about expectations. I didn’t expect to lose my parents to cancer 11 years apart. (My pre-ride missive, and Mom and Dad tributes for those who want the cliff’s notes versions.) I didn’t expect to be so angry this whole time. I didn’t expect this anger to fuel me to do more instead of wallowing in self-pity, depression and sadness. What I did, and still do expect from myself is that I will keep trying, and keep learning throughout all of what I do on this earth.

I said this the other day, and it’s the thought that was in my head while I was I think I can-ing my way into the headwind past my mom’s neighborhood and where I spread some of my uncle’s ashes. This is NOT the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It kind of wants to be, but it pales in comparison to watching my parents decline because of cancer. It’s not even in the same league as losing my parents to this fucking horrible disease.

Because of that? I’ll ride every damn day if I have to in order to help prevent someone else from losing a loved one, and giving me another name to put on my leg in tribute. And because of that, you’ll see me at next year’s Empire State Ride, with a new bike, and a year more training under my belt.

One more thing before I go. When I rolled into Niagara Falls on Saturday, I had an entire crew of people waiting there with signs and noisemakers – just like I hoped for when I put the invitation out there. Special thanks goes to the following folks for being there for me while I was a stinking, sobbing, sore mess in my bike kit after 76 miles –

• My husband Rex – who wore this year’s Ride for Roswell Team Forever Young shirt that I bawled all over when I saw him.
• The Allen Family – my sister Amanda, her husband Shawn, and my niece and nephew, Taylor and Lincoln. They postponed their vacation to come see me ride in.
• My sister Lindy and her crew – Rylan, Kamden, Reaghyn and Lorelei who all gave me big hugs when I got in.
• My aunt Judy – my mom’s sister who came in from Canada to see me
• The Scherer Family – Shara, Tim, Robyn, Jake (in a boot and crutches no less!) and Josh. You guys are so awesome, and I adore you.
• Nick, Mel, Lily and Noah Kinderman – Lily brought me the BEST sign and I’m totally putting it up in my office.
• Pat, Angelyn and baby Alexander McDuff – no more scheduling girl’s nights around my rides!
• And last, but not least, (well except for Mark, Mark is least) Ashley, Mark, Alexandra and baby Kris Soemann – Kris is my youngest groupie at only 1 month old, and Alex (I refuse to call her Ally) is going to be my badass little protege one day.

I love you all, more than you know. I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support and without you calling me crazy.

Until next year. #ESR20