I awoke at 3:45 AM Friday morning to finish packing and fly to Boston for the start of PMC weekend. I wasn’t able to sleep on the plane, partially due to anticipation and partially due to my upright and locked position. It didn’t matter – if anything, my fatigue would help me sleep later that night.
My friend Ben drove me to the Sturbridge Host Hotel, the location of PMC registration and the starting line for the ride. I met up with Lisa and Nicole, two friends with whom I rode and would share a hotel room that night. At registration, we received our PMC jerseys and other garb, ate at the huge carbo-load dinner, and attended the PMC Opening Ceremonies, which were broadcast live on New England Cable News. The hotel was filled with excitement. I retired to my hotel at 8 PM to prepare for the next day.
The starting line was abuzz when I arrived at 5 AM (before sunrise). Volunteers loaded thousands of pieces of luggage onto trucks. Riders filled water bottles and made use of the running water in the hotel’s bathrooms (this being the last time they’d see a real toilet in many hours). I waited anxiously in the sea of red jerseys with friends for the ride to begin. With the obligatory singing of The Star Spangled Banner, we were off shortly after 5:30 AM.
The first twenty miles are the some of the hilliest of the whole ride. The swell of supporters near the start line encourages us to tackle the ascents. I was greeted by my friend and former boss, Kim, who was volunteering at the first water stop, in Whitinsville. The rest of the morning went well. Having done the ride several times before, I knew to anticipate certain milestones, such as seeing the inflatable people at the Franklin water stop, the party atmosphere of Cherry Street in Wrentham, and the bagpiper at the top of the last hill before lunch. Each one of these put a huge smile on my face.
The supporters that line the route from Sturbridge to Provincetown are amazing. All give us encouraging words or clangs of a cowbell. Some offer bottles of water, fruit, pastries, and even chiropractic care! I rode through at least five sprays of the garden hose, which must be the most refreshing thing ever. Their signs and “thank yous” remind me of why I ride. My favorite sign from this year read, “To the world, you may be just one person, but to one person, you may just be the world.”
After lunch, my riding buddy Rich and I headed off toward the Massachusetts Maritime Academy (MMA), the endpoint for the day. With 40 miles remaining, we felt fresh. We took our time at the next water stop, since we decided we’d pass by the last water stop. Taking it easy in the morning paid off – we both felt great! We arrive at the finish line of day one at 2:25 PM, a personal record.
Some of my recurring supporters may remember that, in my five previous years of riding, I have never arrived at the MMA in time to receive an appointment for a massage (160 massage therapists volunteer their time each year to soothe riders’ aching muscles). This was the year to break the cycle. I got my “golden ticket” for a massage at 5:45 PM. First stop: shower!
Throughout PMC weekend, the riders are treated like kings and queens. The amazing volunteers, 3,000 strong, tend to our every need and want. From piling huge bags of ice into the shape of a couch at most water stops, to slathering peanut butter on bananas (best snack EVER), to working all night to prepare a breakfast feast, the volunteers make the event possible. Their unwavering commitment to keeping us happy, hydrated, and fed is overwhelming.
4:15 AM on Sunday: reveille (it is a naval college, after all). Feeling remarkably energetic, I packed my bag, donned my 25th anniversary PMC jersey (from my first ride in 2004), and headed to breakfast. After having more than my share of cheese danish (my Achilles heel), I grabbed my bike and was on my way at 5:15 AM.
Day two is shorter and less hilly than day one, but it has its challenges, in addition to having to ride it with already sore legs. The climb up to Service Road in Sandwich is a wake-up call, Corn Hill in Truro is a beast (made better by the “Over the Hill Cheerleaders”), and the dunes in the Provincelands are a last-minute challenge several miles before the finish line. As a veteran rider, I knew to expect them and was able to motor on to Provincetown record time. Rich and I arrived at the finish line at 10:10 AM, another personal record. I was happy to see Billy Starr, the founder of the PMC, roll in as I did (his bike cost several times more than mine, and he is much more athletic than me). My sixth PMC is in the books!
There were a couple of things that made this year’s ride extra special. First, I was able to ride with my buddy Rich for almost the entire ride. We usually do most of our training together, but since I’m in Chicago this summer, we only got out for two rides together in May. It was great to catch up during our hours in the saddle. Second, my friends Lisa and Nicole, both first-time riders, had lots of questions that I was happy to answer. They made me see the event through the eyes of a newbie all over again. Finally, leaving earlier on day two and riding at a relatively fast pace let me experience a new side of the ride. I watched the sun rise as I ascended the Bourne Bridge and saw the largest crowd of kids I had ever seen at “Da Hedge” at Cape Cod Sea Camps in Brewster. It was a fantastic weekend, and replaying in my head brings a smile to my face.
Thank you to all of you who made a donation and shared your personal connection with cancer. As we work toward this year’s goal of $30 million for cancer research, please know that your support is making a difference in the fight against cancer. Together, we will make cancer HISTORY.
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Jared
