Hopkins 4K for Cancer

June 11, 2004

Short Ride, Great Friends
Today was a short ride of only 50 miles into Kankakee, Illinois. We had a late start this morning from Chicago. We left the campus around 10 am in light rain; We caravanned together for the first 10 miles. I love when we all ride together like that. Everyone cheered everyone on and everyone in the city just stopped to watch us. We all stopped about halfway though in Monee for some awesome ice cream and a water break. The day seemed to fly by and we were at our destination for the night before we knew it….sooner for some then others since we had convinced half the group that we were riding 90 miles and would receive more directions at the lunch stop. Tonight our home is a YMCA, one of my favorite places to stay since we are able to use the pool and hot tub! We were shuttled to the First Presbyterian church for dinner. The congregation had prepared an amazing dinner for us with various meats and vegetables…yes mom and dad we are eating well, probably better than we did at school! After dinner we went around the room and the riders and church family introduced themselves. Everyone said a little something about themselves and how cancer had touched their life. Tonight’s church was my favorite one so far. Everyone was so friendly and so amazed by what we are doing. I was very touched by Mrs. Jean. Jean was a sweet woman who reminded me of my own grandmother. Jean is a breast cancer survivor and has been cancer free for 13 years. She was just one of the many stories of survival we heard tonight. I know that I will keep all of these people in my thoughts as we continue though the trip!

- Meredith Bell



I’ll be honest: I’ve had a difficult time incorporating thoughts of loved ones’ struggles with cancer into my daily eat-bike-sleep routine. We’ve had a couple of pow-wows now, and it’s almost as if I have been dreading them for fear of having nothing deep or meaningful to add to the conversation. It’s difficult to feel inspired when you’re facing a 25 mile per hour headwind across a road that stretches into oblivion in a state where the corn has a better social life than the people.

Mostly I think of song lyrics while on the bike. Typically it’s just one particular line from a song, over and over again. I think it might have something to do with the repetitive nature of riding itself. Sometimes I think about how much I would like a shower; sometimes about the incessant clicking in my left pedal, or how I should make time to degrease and lube my chain later that night. But I don’t really think about cancer.

Today was a short day from the University of Chicago to Kankakee, IL, the distance between which is about 50 miles. We arrived not-too-tired, courtesy of a much-needed day-off from yesterday and an easy-paced last twenty miles of today. I continued with the routine: unload the vans, take a shower, lie down and wonder how long the next day will be.

We were shuttled to a Presbyterian church not far away from the Y, and pulling in the parking lot, saw a hand-painted sign that read, “Welcome to Kankakee IL.” Inside we chatted about the day and the past week-and-a-half of the trip with the congregation members present while we waited for a few more 4K-ers to arrive. I’m going to restrain myself from saying that the dinner was “amazing,” because a friend pointed out to me that this word is used by 4K-ers way too often to describe food. The dinner was fantastic (happy now?). But what was the best part of the evening was not the turkey, cornbread, or 3 different varieties of jello salad (you know you’re truly in the Midwest when the jello salad starts appearing on potluck tables).

It was the introductions. Which weren’t really introductions, but turned into stories and laughs and before we knew it, they were conclusions to the evening, the type that leave you full in a way food cannot. It came my turn to talk, and instead of giving my canned response that the other riders have heard a million times as to whom I’m dedicating my ride, I found myself winging it. For the first time I was feeling a connection to cancer, and I wasn’t going to let the opportunity get away from me.

“This could sound kind of strange,” I began, “because there’s no good part of cancer. But if there was anything positive, I’m realizing that it connects people.”

There we were, 24 college students (plus one in spirit!) in Kankakee, IL, at a church with a predominantly senior congregation, and we were chatting it up because of… cancer. I spoke with a woman named Ruth once we were getting ready to leave. She told me I was too thin, which reminded me how wonderful grandmothers can be. Then she giggled into my ear, “So are there any romances going on?” before shuffling back to the kitchen.

In the beginning (and this applies to everything), it’s difficult to see beyond your own struggle for survival. You are aware only of what you need to do to make it through the day, and driven only to accomplish those tasks. I don’t dare say that I’m beyond that point yet. I still need to lube my chain. But tonight, like my usual introductory speech about myself, maybe I’ll just fall asleep with this evening in mind.

- Rebecca Shrago