Why Am I Doing This?

Actually, this is my second time. I first did this event in July 2023. Along with 300 other cyclists, I pedaled from New York City to Niagara Falls, 560 miles, to raise money for cancer research. I was moved to do this in honor of my late wife, Monica, who died in 2017 from a glioblastoma, and also for Abigail, the young, vibrant daughter of a friend, lost to breast cancer just a few weeks before my ride.

It was a remarkable and emotional journey. On Day 2 of the seven-day journey, I teamed up with three guys from North Carolina, and we made a pact to do the ride again in 2025.

Click here to watch a video my son Nick made after the ESR23 ride, which captures the flavor of the event.

This year, in addition to my North Carolina friends, my hometown cycling friend Jim is joining me. We’re just weeks away from the start.

The scene at Wagner College in Staten Island in July 2023, the evening before the ride started.

Day 0: Check-in and Orientation

After checking in, we had our first group dinner and some short speeches. Terry, the ride’s founder, read a message from a long-time rider named Steve. He was in the tent next to mine two years ago. Steve’s message was that his cancer has returned after 17 years and he is currently at Sloan-Kettering for treatment and is sorry to miss this year’s ride. But his oncologist tells him that the options for treatment are so much greater now than 17 years ago, and part of that is due to the funds raised by this event. He will be missed by many riders this year.

l-r: Steve, Jim, Ted, Rob, me. Jim is a first-timer from my town. The other three are guys from North Carolina who I rode with two years ago.

(l-r) Steve, Ted, and Rob from North Carolina, and my follow Hooligan Jim from Montclair, and me.

Impromptu block party outside my tent after dinner. Now off to bed. Breakfast at 5:30 am tomorrow.

Day 1: NYC to Somers

Day 1 started with breakfast at 5:30, followed by a group photo of more than 200 cyclists at 6:45, and a rollout downhill to the Staten Island Ferry just after 7 a.m. Thanks to the speed of the ferry, I was able to keep a steady pace of 16 mph while crossing the New York Harbor, but I slowed significantly for the next 10 miles, as we crawled up the west side of Manhattan. Things opened up when we got to the South County Trail, where we enjoyed some pacelining at 22 mph. Our lunch stop was at 40 miles with about 25 to go and with news that heavy rain was approaching, so we cut short our break and started peddling to outrun the rain, traveling from south to north. We managed to do that, and rolled into Somers Middle School shortly after 1 pm. Some great pulls from my North Carolinian friends Ted and Rob.

After dinner, a pro cycling coach gave a presentation about cycling techniques. Can’t tell you what he said because I dozed off. I did stay awake for the presentation preceding his, about the lifesaving therapies funded by this ride, which is why we’re doing this.

Off to bed now to rest up for Day 2.

Our ESR team on the Ferry

Day 2: Somers to Rhinebeck

Seventy miles, 2,600 feet of climbing, brutal heat. Sounds like fun, right?

It was an accomplishment, let’s leave it at that.

We rolled out at 7 a.m. and kept rest stops short, even the fabulous lunch stop at the Culinary Institute of America. Final long climb to the Dutchess County Fairgrounds outside Rhineback featured some unwelcome double-digit grades, but we powered through.

Tomorrow is supposed to be the hottest day of the year. Aiming to roll out at 6 a.m.

View from the Hudson Bridge near Poughkeepsie.

Day 3: Rhinebeck to Albany

Eighty miles, another 2,600 feet of elevation, 5 hours of pedaling. Hot hot hot!

Wheels up at 6 a.m. to mitigate risk of heat stroke.

The essential chores after arrival always take time: rehydrate, wait in line for the shower truck, wash self and bike clothes (simultaneously), climb up the ramp into the stiflingly hot U-Haul “charging station” to plug in the necessary devices (bike computer, bike lights, tent light, portable charger, phone, etc.)

The food on the ride is always excellent, but dinner tonight reminded me again of why I, along with hundreds of others, do this ride. Next to me at dinner was Ginger, from Maryland. On her left wrist were six black bracelets with white letters spelling out names of friends and relatives lost to cancer. On her right, a dozen multicolored bracelets with names of all those close to her who are currently dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Across from me was Dale, from Pennsylvania, who recently lost his son to glioblastoma (the cancer that also took my wife). Unlike Monica, who died four and a half years after diagnosis, his son was dead in 30 days. His father had no time to say goodbye.

Everyone in that room has such a story.

After dinner, we heard a presentation on the latest research we are funding, which includes a promising immunotherapy for triple-negative breast cancer, which in 2023 cut short the life of the vibrant young daughter of a friend.

Funding research like this is why we are riding 560 miles this week.

Rob designed this jersey with the names of loved ones lost by his donors.

The back side of the shower truck, with my bike kit draped over the makeshift drying rack.

Day 4: Albany to Utica

Another hot day, with today’s ride of 102 miles the longest of the week. We made a left turn out of the campground, coasted down a hill with a gentle right turn at the bottom and immediately hit the Silent Mile — a stretch of a tree-lined quiet road where the ESR staff had placed posters with photos of the loved ones the cyclists were riding for. I had submitted photos of three remarkable women lost to cancer, and all three were featured among the first half dozen posters.

Monica Marciczkiewicz Bartlett (left)

Abigail Rollenhagen (left)

Anne Lovell Bartlett (top left)

As you can imagine, this was incredibly moving, not just for me but for all the riders. We are all doing this ride (and asking for your donations) to help create a different future for those with a cancer diagnosis. Thank you for your support.

Days 5-7: Utica-Weedsport-Spencerport-Niagara Falls

Writing daily entries proved to be too ambitious, since there is so little time after recovering from the ride and handling the daily chores of preparing for the next day. I’ll give a brief recap of the last three days and post some photos.

Day 5, from Utica to Weedsport, was rainy and cold, but that was preferable to the prior day’s heat and humidity. Around mile 30, we stopped at Flo’s Diner, home (apparently) of the world’s only 10 cent coffee. After Flo’s, we had a beautiful stretch of road along the shores of Lake Oneida, one of the Finger Lakes and the largest lake entirely within the bounds of New York State. At this point, I was rolling with Ted and Rob, and we were flying, helped by flat roads, a headwind, and teamwork, with each of us taking turns at the front of the train.

The rain eased for our last 20 miles as we rolled into Weedsport, where we camped on the ground of the Weedsport Speedway dirt racetrack. There was a celebration after dinner, featuring awards for fundraising leaders and brief remarks from the top executive of Roswell Park, followed by beer, pizza, and live music and dancing (for those with the energy).

Day 6, Weedsport to Spencersport, was the best weather of the week. A lovely ride with many miles on the gravel towpath along the Erie Canal.

I started feeling a bit feverish that evening, a portend of a disastrous night. It was cold, with temps in the low 40s, and I was unprepared, with only the lightweight throw that had been on my son’s bed when he was a toddler. I was also unprepared for the dysentery which hit me at 1 a.m. and demanded numerous brisk 75-yard walks in the silent dark between then and 5 a.m. to the portapotty parked on the tarmac. At 2 a.m. I walked 150 yards to the shower truck to fetch 4 clean towels from the bin, which I laid horizontally on top of the throw in an effort to get warm enough to sleep.

In the morning, I got a coffee and sat with the guys as they ate their bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, pancakes, yogurt, granola, and fruit. For me, eating was unimaginable. The nurse at the medical tent gave me two antidiarrhea pills and I prepared to ride. It was the final day, 75 miles to the finish line. I’d have to do it on an empty stomach.

The ESR staff offer a “boost” service, where they’ll put your bike in a truck and drive you in a van to the first (or second) rest stop, to give you an option of cycling to the next campground but only having to pedal partway. It was an option chosen with regularity by many of the less fit riders. It was not an option for me. It would be cheating.

My group rolled out at 7:30, maintaining our usual brisk pace, averaging 16.5 mph, with stretches on the flats in the low twenties, and I did my share of pulling. I made sure I stayed hydrated and took electrolyte capsules on the hour. I had half a banana at the first two rest stops, and gingerly ate a granola bar, hoping I wouldn’t regret it.

My legs kept the pedals moving somehow, and it wasn’t until 5 miles from the end that I started to flag. It was going to take more than intestinal distress to keep me from the finish line.

Rainy Day 5: The white rain jacket was porous, letting water in, which would then heat up and act like a wetsuit. When I took it off at Flo’s, water poured out of the sleeves. It actually kept me pretty warm.

Day 5, on the shores of Lake Onieda. (l-r) Ted, me, Rob. My friends from North Carolina I met and rode with two years ago at ESR23.

Near Macedon, halfway between Weedsport and Spencerport on Day 6.

Day 7: The photo on the left shows us at De Veau Woods State Park, 2 miles from the Falls. That’s where we all stopped and regrouped for a police escort to take 250 or so of us, riding two abreast, into Niagara Falls. As we entered the city, the street was lined with family and friends of the riders, with posters, bells, whistles, and shouts of congratulations. In the photo on the right, you can see water of the Niagara River as it approaches the Falls.

Epilogue

It’s Monday evening, two days after I crossed the finish line in Niagara Falls. Sunday was spent on a bus heading back to our starting point at Wagner College in Staten Island. My friend Jim’s wife was there to drive us and our bikes back home.

I didn’t anticipate causing such alarm when I walked into the house, but I did. Cheryl reports I looked drugged, expressionless, blinking slowly, as if I were barely alive. I’m better after a day of rest and two pieces of toast, but still lethargic.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. For the cause, firstly. We collectively raised nearly $2 million, and these funds are saving lives. Because I’m too stubborn to quit? Maybe that, too.

Postscript

It is Wednesday evening, five days after my Night of Hell and four days after the final day’s ride, fueled only on (empty) guts and determination. My still feeling poorly today, with new symptoms of a bad cold to accompany the ongoing gastrointestinal distress, led me to the obvious: a COVID-19 test. The sharp line showed up in seconds. I immediately alerted my riding crew and hope they all have escaped. For me, sipping ginger tea between coughs in a room away from the family, I think about how if the friendly nurse on Saturday morning had given me a COVID-19 test instead of two Imodium pills, my ride would have ended on Day 6.

I”m glad she didn’t, and glad I was able to ride. If the ESR team decided to give me a medal for finishing, I wonder what they would call it?