I'd rather be riding my horse. But my husband has been riding the Pan Mass Challenge (PMC) for the past seven years, and as a supportive spouse, I have dutifully driven him out to Sturbridge each year, on the first weekend of August (meaning I have missed the last seven Sunapee Art Festivals, I might add,) stayed with him overnight, gotten up with him at Oh-Dark-thirty to drive him to the start and take pictures as he began another one hundred and ninety-two mile ride to Provincetown (along with two thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine other riders) just as the sun peaked over the trees.
On the same day, another two thousand riders begin their ride from Wellesley. The two groups converge at the end of the day in Bourne, where they sleep in tents or in the dorms at the Mass Maritime Academy. They start the second day of the ride together, all five thousand of them, again at the crack of dawn, riding over the Bourne Bridge and on to the surprisingly hilly dunes of the Cape, a lane of traffic closed off for them as they make their way toward Provincetown. With almost as many support staff as riders, the PMC is not only the single largest cancer fundraiser in the country (all that pedaling generated over 33 million dollars for the Jimmy Fund last year,) it is also the best organized. But when you add to all that an equal number of other dutiful spouses, family members, and friends who go down to P-town to cheer at the finish for their by-then-exhausted riders, let me tell you, driving on the Cape is nearly impossible on Sunday morning. One year, I almost missed Mike's arrival; having started pedaling the second day at 5:30 am, he made it to the finish by 10:30!After that, I started driving down to P-town on Saturday evening, so that I could get a good spot at the crowded Family Finish and be sure I wouldn't miss getting photographic proof of yet another epic PMC ride completed. Another rider from our town, Marcia Dana, began riding the PMC a year after Mike, and pretty soon, her husband Greg and I started hanging out together on Saturday night, passing the time while we waited for our S.O.s to roll in on Sunday morning. Neither one of us was particularly interested in bike riding - training for the PMC is very time-consuming, and we both had other interests. But we were happy to support our spouses in their efforts, and partake of the incredibly powerful energy that permeates the PMC effort on all its levels. It's incredible that even such a small role - dropping a rider off for the ride, and picking them up to bring them home again afterwards - makes you feel like you are part of creating a solution to this problem of cancer which affects so many of us and can otherwise make you feel so powerless.
Three years ago, in the winter of 2008-2009, my friend Greg was diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer. Treatment with chemotherapy that Spring really knocked the wind out of his sails, but he still made it to Provincetown in August. We set up camp early Sunday morning, hung out together while we waited for our spouses, and clapped and cheered for each rider as they arrived at the Family Finish.
Two years ago, Greg finished his chemo, only to discover after a brief remission that the cancer was still there. Greg's son Evan began riding the PMC that year, and when Greg and I went to the Family Finish, we were joined by some of his other family members. We got more organized, bringing signs and noisemakers so we could raise a ruckus when our riders came in.
Last year, after having been told that he was in palliative care, Greg experienced a sudden and unexpected remission in his cancer. As soon as he began feeling a little bit better, he began going to the gym, working out to rebuild some muscle. He signed up for the PMC, and last summer, he began joining Marcia on training rides. His heart had been damaged by the chemo, so he had to take frequent breaks to give his lungs a chance to catch up, but he was determined to ride as much of the PMC as he could. I missed hanging out with him as I waited with my family and his at the Family Finish, and I told him that if he rode the PMC again this year, I would ride it too, if only so that next year, we could all ride the new "PMC Italy" route. (Because the number of people interested in riding the PMC has expanded every year since its inception in 1980, they have added new and different routes to accommodate the demand. There is now a one day ride, a kids' ride, and a ride across Italy.)Had his cancer not returned, I am 100% confident that I would be training this summer with Greg for this year's PMC. Biking is still not really my thing, but after Greg's death in January, I found myself feeling obligated to keep my promise and complete the PMC on his behalf.
There are a lot of reasons I could point to for riding the PMC, that aren't the reason I'm riding. Couldn't we all? My Mom had breast cancer. I had breast cancer. My very dear Aunt Phyllis had breast cancer. Another dear friend got hit with cancer - and survived - not once but THREE times. My husband's father died of lung cancer. Another friend was diagnosed with a brain tumor and was dead in less than a year. I don't think I've met anyone in recent years who, when the topic of the PMC has come up, couldn't point to someone in their life who has either been directly affected by, or killed by cancer.
I'm a proud supporter of the PMC because it is leading a charge to beat cancer. In fact, last year 100% of rider-raised revenue went directly to support the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute's tireless commitment to finding a cure.I appreciate your help.
I'd rather be riding my horse. But my husband has been riding the Pan Mass Challenge (PMC) for the past seven years, and as a supportive spouse, I have dutifully driven him out to Sturbridge each year, on the first weekend of August (meaning I have missed the last seven Sunapee Art Festivals, I might add,) stayed with him overnight, gotten up with him at Oh-Dark-thirty to drive him to the start and take pictures as he began another one hundred and ninety-two mile ride to Provincetown (along with two thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine other riders) just as the sun peaked over the trees.
On the same day, another two thousand riders begin their ride from Wellesley. The two groups converge at the end of the day in Bourne, where they sleep in tents or in the dorms at the Mass Maritime Academy. They start the second day of the ride together, all five thousand of them, again at the crack of dawn, riding over the Bourne Bridge and on to the surprisingly hilly dunes of the Cape, a lane of traffic closed off for them as they make their way toward Provincetown. With almost as many support staff as riders, the PMC is not only the single largest cancer fundraiser in the country (all that pedaling generated over 33 million dollars for the Jimmy Fund last year,) it is also the best organized. But when you add to all that an equal number of other dutiful spouses, family members, and friends who go down to P-town to cheer at the finish for their by-then-exhausted riders, let me tell you, driving on the Cape is nearly impossible on Sunday morning. One year, I almost missed Mike's arrival; having started pedaling the second day at 5:30 am, he made it to the finish by 10:30!After that, I started driving down to P-town on Saturday evening, so that I could get a good spot at the crowded Family Finish and be sure I wouldn't miss getting photographic proof of yet another epic PMC ride completed. Another rider from our town, Marcia Dana, began riding the PMC a year after Mike, and pretty soon, her husband Greg and I started hanging out together on Saturday night, passing the time while we waited for our S.O.s to roll in on Sunday morning. Neither one of us was particularly interested in bike riding - training for the PMC is very time-consuming, and we both had other interests. But we were happy to support our spouses in their efforts, and partake of the incredibly powerful energy that permeates the PMC effort on all its levels. It's incredible that even such a small role - dropping a rider off for the ride, and picking them up to bring them home again afterwards - makes you feel like you are part of creating a solution to this problem of cancer which affects so many of us and can otherwise make you feel so powerless.
Three years ago, in the winter of 2008-2009, my friend Greg was diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer. Treatment with chemotherapy that Spring really knocked the wind out of his sails, but he still made it to Provincetown in August. We set up camp early Sunday morning, hung out together while we waited for our spouses, and clapped and cheered for each rider as they arrived at the Family Finish.
Two years ago, Greg finished his chemo, only to discover after a brief remission that the cancer was still there. Greg's son Evan began riding the PMC that year, and when Greg and I went to the Family Finish, we were joined by some of his other family members. We got more organized, bringing signs and noisemakers so we could raise a ruckus when our riders came in.
Last year, after having been told that he was in palliative care, Greg experienced a sudden and unexpected remission in his cancer. As soon as he began feeling a little bit better, he began going to the gym, working out to rebuild some muscle. He signed up for the PMC, and last summer, he began joining Marcia on training rides. His heart had been damaged by the chemo, so he had to take frequent breaks to give his lungs a chance to catch up, but he was determined to ride as much of the PMC as he could. I missed hanging out with him as I waited with my family and his at the Family Finish, and I told him that if he rode the PMC again this year, I would ride it too, if only so that next year, we could all ride the new "PMC Italy" route. (Because the number of people interested in riding the PMC has expanded every year since its inception in 1980, they have added new and different routes to accommodate the demand. There is now a one day ride, a kids' ride, and a ride across Italy.)Had his cancer not returned, I am 100% confident that I would be training this summer with Greg for this year's PMC. Biking is still not really my thing, but after Greg's death in January, I found myself feeling obligated to keep my promise and complete the PMC on his behalf.
There are a lot of reasons I could point to for riding the PMC, that aren't the reason I'm riding. Couldn't we all? My Mom had breast cancer. I had breast cancer. My very dear Aunt Phyllis had breast cancer. Another dear friend got hit with cancer - and survived - not once but THREE times. My husband's father died of lung cancer. Another friend was diagnosed with a brain tumor and was dead in less than a year. I don't think I've met anyone in recent years who, when the topic of the PMC has come up, couldn't point to someone in their life who has either been directly affected by, or killed by cancer.
I'm a proud supporter of the PMC because it is leading a charge to beat cancer. In fact, last year 100% of rider-raised revenue went directly to support the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute's tireless commitment to finding a cure.I appreciate your help.
| 2014 | $250.00 | PMC Rider |
| 2013 | $0.00 | PMC Rider |
| 2012 | $5,250.00 | Wellesley to Provincetown Monument (2-Day) |
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Tamison Rose
