above all things: be relentless

Beanz with her friend Julie who came from Louisiana

Sarah told me to make this entry pretty much exclusively about my experience during the Ride for Roswell, so if it seems like I'm acting like a pompous ass talking about how I conquered 42 miles on a dinky bike...well, blame her. She wants you all to know that she's doing well, kicking ass and dealing with a crazy dog. Life in the Maury household is pretty normal.

So, yeah...this years Ride for Roswell was a huge success! Collectively, Beanz Brigade has raised over $7,300! That's enormous and well exceeded my expectations. I didn't know what to expect being that this was my first year as team captain. I had no idea what to do or how many people would actually join my team, but I somehow I wound up getting 15 other able bodied riders to sign up for something they've never done before.

This year I raised $1,885. Doubling what I raised last year. Couldn't have done that without the generosity of some really awesome people -- far too many to list -- I thank you all.

This was my third year doing the Ride for Roswell, but for obvious reasons it was the most important to me.
I dedicated my new team to my wife and the final results needed to be huge. So I was quite persistent when it came time to ask for donations. I was relentless. I raised enough to qualify for the peloton leg of the Ride, which is a 12-mile pre-Ride ride. At first I was a little reluctant to join this part. After listening to a Roswell volunteer explain it to me (and a little convincing from the hand of Sarah Beanz) I was swayed. After all, what's another 12-miles? Nothing, right? Easy. Simple. And for the most part it was, save for the fact that I'm riding a BMX rig that is tiny with no gears and weighs a ton, so it's not exactly built for long distances. But the peloton leg was great. I got up at 3:30 AM, made my way to Roswell and signed in. I hung out with some cool folks and lined up for a nice leisurely ride. Before the start of the ride the marshal asked everyone to take a moment to think of the person or persons they're riding for. I put my head down and rattled off so many names. Ones who had their lives taken by cancer and those who are fighting now. I started to well up with tears, but then they gave us the signal to roll out... 

During the peloton I met a guy named Bob who talked to me through out the ride. As we crossed Main Street he asked me who I was riding for. I told him why I formed my team because my wife is battling breast cancer and he looked at me with shock. "You're just a kid yourself, man. That's not right." I told him how tough she is and that she's doing fine. We talked at great length about that...for most of the ride actually. As we made our way through the UB parking lot you could hear the roar of the crowd. It was unreal. It was overwhelming. I felt like a real athlete. I felt like I was part of something bigger than me. I felt accomplished. It was awesome.

After the peloton I got ready for my 30-mile ride. Right off the bat I started getting compliments on how I was taking a BMX rig out on a 30-mile ride. A legit cyclist pulled alongside me and took a look at my bike. "You're taking that out for 30-miles?" I nodded then told him I already did another 12 this morning "God damn, man...that's impressive." This coming from a dude who was shredded like Lance freakin' Armstrong. And he wasn't the only one, a lot of people seemed to be impressed that a short, out of shape tattooed dude was grinding out 42 miles on a bike built strictly for vert ramps.

The reason I do the blog. The reason I ride.

There were points in the ride where I wanted to give up, to go home and curl up in my bed. I was tired. I didn't sleep the night before. My bike weighs a ton. I listed off a ton of excuses to NOT finish, but only one to keep going...and the reason was right on my shirt. There it was, my team crest: Beanz Brigade and the motto: "Be relentless." 

I couldn't give up. I'd finish out that ride with two god damn broken legs and massive head trauma if I had to. I set out to make Sarah proud and no amount of fatigue was going to do me in. So I kept riding. Kept forging on. Kept being relentless. 
 
The last 5 miles were all adrenaline. I don't think I stopped pumping my pedals once during that stretch. I fought from the gut there. Legs churning at a perfect cadence. As I got near the finish line we were stopped as the line bottle-necked to near single file. I saw the throng of people. There I was at the end. The culmination of months of hard work. I stood next to survivors and co-survivors. I stood still and took it all in and started to cry. Right at the finish line was my beautiful wife, pink wig and all holding up a sign cheering me on. I threw my arms around her and gave her the biggest hug ever.  

My legs were like Jello. They still are actually, but that's because as I mentioned my bike isn't designed to take on long routes. That's why I'm looking into getting a more fitting bike. I'm also going to go on longer ride. Maybe conquer a triathlon. Maybe ride cross-country to help raise cancer awareness. Shit, maybe I'll join the Tour de France. The sky is the limit. And as long as I have a "be relentless" attitude anything is possible.

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

Tuesday I accompanied Sarah to chemotherapy for the first time. It's something I probably should have done from the start, but she insisted that I stick to my normal routine of work and since she's the boss I dare not argue.

I didn't know what to expect. What would it be like? Who would be there? What should I do during this? I had a ton of questions.

The first thing that struck me upon arrival was how vibrant everyone was. The people getting their treatments had such amazing attitudes. Everyone was smiling, joking and sharing stories. Not just about their treatments, but about their daily lives. They talked about their kids and grandkids. They talked about places to eat and what movies they last saw. Everyone knew each other and had a genuine concern for one another. It was refreshing to see such happy faces.

Since Sarah is the youngest one there, she's pretty much a celebrity. Everyone loves her; from the staff to the patients. And who wouldn't love her? The girl is amazing. I sat and listened to two women discuss my wife. "She's such a doll," one said to the other. "She's always smiling." I nodded at them in agreement. That's my wife, she's awesome. Others marveled at her fashion sense, Sarah strutted into chemo sporting white denim capris, proving that even during treatments my little Beany is as fabulous as ever. cancer be damned, nothing ever stifles Sarah's style.

Eight more weeks to go. That's all we keep telling ourselves. Eight more weeks of this. I'm sure that last treatment will be an emotional one. It'll mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new one. It's still hard to believe everything that's transpired over the past five months. It's been unreal.

The other day I ran the Susan G Komen Race for the Cure in celebration of my little Beany. It was the first outdoor run I've done in over two years. With all that's been going on over the past few weeks I had little time to prepare for it, but I didn't let that stop me. I signed up to run in her honor and I'd be damned if something like a little physical discomfort got in the way of finishing my goal and making her proud.

By the second mile I felt completely gassed. My side was cramping up. My legs were tight because I didn't stretch. I just wanted to walk. And just as I began to slow down I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around and it's my wife. Suddenly, a burst of motivation hit me. I started taking bigger strides. As I looked back at her bright smile I thought "This is why I'm running."

And now with that run behind me I focus on bigger goals. Longer runs.

The Ride for Roswell is June 26th. If you haven't donated yet, I encourage you to click the link below and give what you can:

http://giving.roswellpark.org/beanzbrigade

Thank you and as always, Be Relentless.