This is a story of triumph that was posted in the ACOR Head and Neck Digest (an online support listserv).  Upon reading it, I felt a wave of jubilation, and respect for this fantastic accomplishment.  This is a testament to anyone who finds his/her self facing a diagnosis of cancer.  It CAN be beat, and you can go on to "ride" another day, like Jerry did!  Congratulations, Jerry!

- Barry

Jerry Reynolds

The following is my story of a ride in the Los Angeles bike Tour. The original date posted to this group was 3/15/99.

Hi everyone,

Interesting subject line eh?

What my mom said when I was very small and repeated often was "Don't say can't, what you really mean is won't."

Well here's a little story that got me up at 3:45 AM yesterday and in the car by 4:30 AM for an adventure I really never thought could happen to me.

It all started several months before I knew I had cancer. Probably about July 1998. This was in the height of our bike riding fever. We decided we would ride in the Acura Bike Tour, March 14, 1999. We paid our entry fees and got our bib numbers. The Bike Tour generally follows the same course as the LA Marathon. Starts just north of the coliseum and ends at the Sports Arena - both just south of the USC campus. It's not a race, just a twenty-mile tour of LA with exclusive use of the course streets. In General terms the course starts westbound on Exposition to Crenshaw, then north through Hancock Park all the way to Hollywood Blvd. It then turns East to Virgil near the intersection with Sunset and goes South to Wilshire Blvd then East on Wilshire past MacArthur Park to Union. On Union it's mostly downhill to the USC campus. Across the campus and your finished.

Gail and two very good friends, John and Patrice Walter and their friend Jim worked out on their bikes every Saturday for seven weeks prior to the tour getting ready. Primarily since it does take some endurance - you climb 395 feet in the first eight miles, then up and down for the balance.  There was no way I could go, I wasn't able to ride around the block until three weeks ago when I rode one five mile jaunt with Amber, John and Patrice's 8 year old daughter. Big deal, 2 1/2 miles out and 2 1/2 miles back, all on level streets. About a week before the Tour I was waffling about whether I would go at all. I told Gail during one of our evening walks "I can't do it, it's too cold and I won't get enough sleep". Well I decided to go and I would do what I could. Thanks to my Mom, I didn't want to say to everyone I wouldn't go and be a party pooper.

Day of the event. We got up at 3:45 and I put on enough layers of clothing to look fat. We got to the Sports Arena parking at 5:00 AM. We were late, I think there had to be eight or nine thousand cyclist already there. We heard the attendance was around 15,000 bicycles. That's right, 15,000. And here I am recovering from cancer, it's freezing cold, and there's bikes everywhere.  I only have half use of one shoulder and limited use of the other wrist - but I'm in the thick of it anyway. What a lunatic I am. I could have fallen and screwed up who knows what.

We used our cell phones and met up with John, Patrice and Jim. They were already in line. The line had to be at least a mile long. It takes over 30 minutes for every one just to past the start line. I told everyone I would go as far as Crenshaw then come back and hang around the finish line area.  Finally at 6:00 AM it all started and they went ahead. It was so crowded I decided to wait for it to thin out. 

After 20 minutes it was still thick with bicycles so I ventured into the thick of it. We were all cruising along about 5 or 6 MPH then about 10 blocks after the start I ran into a neighbor, Dr. Steve Lake and his daughter Amber. I rode with them until we changed directions on Crenshaw.  This is where the first I can't is a won't kicked in. I felt fine so I decided to keep going. No won'ts for this kid. Did I think about being 56 years old, just had a very major surgery and radiation therapy that put me in bed for two weeks. No not me, no won't here.

What was interesting at this point and for the duration of the ride until I got in the car to go home was I did not have any problem breathing through my mouth. I mean my mouth did not become dry. I couldn't understand why my salvia was running, my nose too.  Next thing you know I'm at the Santa Monica Freeway. There's quite a climb at this point. Weird, I just keep going. It was uphill until Wilshire Blvd.  This was the first "Bailout" or Tour route back if you can't make it. By now it was NO WAY - I was going on.

It went Ok until I finally made the eastbound turn onto Hollywood Blvd. It had been all-uphill to this point but somehow I didn't pull over to rest, I just kept going. When I got onto Hollywood it was really thinned out, probably 90% had passed me. I continued on Hollywood, which was several more miles uphill. Now I'm totally numb. At this point I don't know what kept me going. Finally there was some downhill where Hollywood merges with Sunset.  There were a few turns then South on Virgil - mostly downhill now. It felt good going downhill but I was really to tired and sore to enjoy it. I do remember getting up to 20 MPH just coasting. Sort of scary since I was only using one arm or the other most of the time now.

When I got down around 3rd Street I saw her for the first time. I'll never forget her, but I can't tell you what her face looked like. She was a black gal, maybe in her early thirties. She was thin and her legs looked in good shape. I remember because I couldn't figure out why she was going so slow.  By this time I was barely able to keep going and I could see only one or to other riders. Every time I was going to stop there would be some people along the route cheering me and chanting "You can do it, You can do it" and applauding. This gave me strength. Then came the turn onto Wilshire Blvd.  I remember riding several blocks and looking back to see if anyone else was coming or was I really last. There were no spectators now. I saw no one, just the guards at each intersection. I started up a little hill and finally had to stop and rest. I had come about 16 miles. I sat on the curb and there she was riding by. She was black gal and had grey riding shorts and a green pull over on. She was eating one of those power bars and she asked me if I wanted something or a drink of water. I was breathing so hard I couldn't speak so I just smiled and waved her on. As she went by I'm sure I looked her straight in the eye - but I can't tell you what she looked like. It was sort of strange being on Wilshire Blvd all alone. One of the busiest streets in LA, there was no one but me and this one other rider. 

I got going after about five minutes and continued up and down the small hills on Wilshire until I made the downhill turn Southbound on Union. I had a few more up hills and by now had to rest and walk over them. Each time she was there. I remember now as I write this that I would be walking along pushing my bike with only one or two riders with broken bikes in sight and all of a sudden she would be there. Each time she rode by I was able to get back on and ride some more. When I got to Washington Blvd. I could see some USC campus buildings and I finally got Gail on the phone. I told her where I was. Gail couldn't believe I was on the tour route that far. The cell connection went bad so I just tried to yell into the phone I'd meet them at the finish.

Now I was really talking myself into continuing, each breath a job and each pedal full of pain. Some how I kept going until finally I was on the USC campus. I thought how exciting, just a few more blocks and I did it. Not so, the course zigzagged though the campus. I couldn't believe it. They were also taking down the barricades. Finally I turned onto Exposition. I'm just North of the Coliseum now. I couldn't see which way to go and one of the workers directed me West on Exposition. The barricades and signs were gone. I rode clear to Vermont and finally back to a point I thought was the finish line. It wasn't. I fell from my bike and collapsed on the grass. I remember looking around for my friend to tell her we were almost there, that we haddone it. She was nowhere to be seen. I didn't see her again.

After a few minutes I reached Gail on the cell phone and they walked over to meet me. After resting a while Gail directed me to the finish line about 500 yards away. I waited there for them for photos. 

I had done it. I didn't plan to. I really didn't want to, but I did. By the way I think I placed at number 15,001.

Thanks Mom, you inspired me. Remember, when you say can't you really mean won't.

As far as my lone ridding friend is concerned, maybe it's true - "Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly."

Jerry