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April 7, 2005

Bicycling staffers help raise money for early cancer detection

Editor’s note: Environmental and Occupational Health Sciences staffer Joel Levin and his wife, University Photographer Mary Levin, recently returned after an 1,800-mile bike trip to raise money for cancer research. Below are Joel’s words describing the event, along with photos mostly by Mary. Other photographers included Kelly White, Dave Steckler and Gary Cummings.

Three years ago I found myself with some strange physiological symptoms that led me to my doctor’s office. After a series of tests, I was shocked to learn that I had testicular cancer and needed to have surgery within 24 hours.

The doctors said that I should have my right testicle removed surgically immediately, then follow up with daily radiation treatments for a month at The Cancer Care Alliance — a consortium of the UW, The Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center and Children’s Hospital. Fortuitously, I had read testicular cancer survivor Lance Armstrong’s book, It’s Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life, just a few months before, and it helped me know what to expect and what questions to ask.

University Photographer Mary Levin in action on the trip.

After the surgery I went home and realized that everything had changed. For the first time I knew that I was not bullet proof as I had previously believed, and that the future could no longer be taken for granted.

Before I got sick I had been athletic, so I was determined to get back into shape. I ramped up my bicycle training in a big way, and by last summer I was able to ride 5,000 miles. I was, in fact, riding longer, harder and faster than I ever had before.

Then a few months ago I read an article in the newspaper about Kelly White, who had the notion of riding 1,800 miles in eight days from Seattle to Arizona to raise money for cancer research — something that was important to her because her first husband had died from Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

The idea had originally come from Kelly’s friends, who all liked baseball and had some connections to the Seattle Mariners. One day someone said, “Wouldn’t it be cool to ride from Seattle to the Mariners’ spring training in Arizona?” These kinds of ideas usually just disappear, but many of Kelly’s friends were athletes. They began figuring out what it would really take to make such a thing happen.

Kelly’s second husband, Tom, worked at Microsoft, as did many of the other people in Kelly’s support network, which is why I came to call their idea “ride to Arizona v 1.0.” It was like a product development creation — then later a product launch.

The in-motion handoff of sustenance.

The group contacted the Seattle Mariners, who loved the idea. They suggested that the Mariner Moose (the team’s mascot) throw the cyclists a baseball in Safeco field — and that the cyclists carry that ball to the Peoria Sports Complex, site of the Mariners’ spring training games. The ball would be brought to the Mariner–Texas Ranger game on March 12, where one of the cyclists would throw it as the ceremonial first pitch. That ball would be signed by many of the Mariners and auctioned off, with all the funds going to the Hutch.

When I read all this I was intrigued, so I e-mailed Kelly asking her to call me, and the phone rang 10 minutes later. We talked for about a half hour and I heard in her voice how passionate she was about this idea. It was something I could really relate to. After going through cancer diagnosis and treatment, I too wanted to do something to raise awareness, raise money and to specifically thank the UW doctors and The Cancer Care Alliance for helping me.

When I talked to my wife, Mary, who is the UW’s photographer, she was enthusiastic too. In fact, she wanted to come along on the trip to photograph and document the adventure. Mary’s three favorite things are photography, road trips and driving — a perfect fit.

Joel Levin completes his first century (100-mile ride) through the Mojave Desert.

I called Kelly and said I was in.

E-mails among the riders began to fly furiously as the departure date approached. A week before our launch we met for the first time in Kelly’s house for a potluck dinner. We all talked tough and thought — falsely — that we had some idea of what we were doing.

Then the weather for the route suddenly spun out of control. The worst rain in 100 years pummeled Oregon, California and the Southwest. The images on CNN of flooded communities, mud slides, massive snow in the mountains along with fluctuating temperatures made us question our sanity for going on this trip. But at that point we really had no choice. We were committed to the departure date because we needed to arrive in Arizona for the ballgame.

Up until 4 a.m. on March 3, when we got on our bikes and started pedaling, we had no idea what the weather gods had in store for us. We had brought tons of gear and were braced for the worst. But we got lucky. The storms broke and we had blue skies everywhere. This helped us enjoy our ride down the Southern Oregon and Northern Californian coast, which we all agreed must be the most beautiful coastline anywhere in the world.

We were lucky to have support vehicles donated for the trip. A 20-foot Mini-Wini (Winnebago) RV acted as our mother ship. Whenever we needed transportation, or a place to put tired riders, or a place for riders to get a massage when they weren’t riding, the RV was it.

Our second support vehicle was a large van outfitted to hold six bikes, a driver and a passenger. The passenger’s role was to mix Cytomax (energy recharge drinks), grab the empties from the riders and exchange them for full bottles. The passenger would also hand out tubes of Gu (a highly concentrated carbohydrate liquid the consistency of toothpaste) and energy bars of every shape, color and flavor. And they would take photos from this position and yell encouragement to the riders.

Left to right, Tom White, Mary Walgamott, Bethany Hinshaw, Joel Levin, Michael Shein, Paul Steckler, Dave Steckler, Kelly White and Connor White pose at the Peoria ball field.

Each vehicle was equipped with laptops with navigation, communication and GPS equipment. It all looked very impressive. However, with all the cables, connectors and questionable cellular service we occasionally had “technical problems.” The Ride to Arizona v. 1.0 became 1.2, 1.3…you get the idea. Each day was a fresh new idea with a new plan to get us to our destination.

We would occasionally lose a rider, or the support van or the RV and not be able to connect because of bad or no cell service. On the fifth day of the ride, for example, Tom started out to ride 20 miles. Our morning routine was to send the first rider (or riders) out when we were still eating breakfast. They would get a several-hour head start and we would catch up later.

After about an hour — with the other riders under way — we hadn’t heard from Tom so we tried to call him on the cell. Tom responded that he was doing fine—on the correct road — and riding out of town. But when we checked on him about 45 minutes later, he said he wasn’t sure where he was.

After multiple calls and questions, someone asked him where the sun was. He said at his back. This told us immediately that Tom had gone the opposite direction from where he should have. By now several hours had gone by, and we still weren’t sure where he was, so we told him to stay put and we would get somebody to him. He said that he couldn’t stay put, that two of the three screws holding the cleat in his riding shoe had apparently fallen out and he wasn’t able to click out of the pedals. So he kept circling the block waiting for us.

Look ma, no hands. Bethany Hinshaw and Dave Steckler clown for the camera.

Twenty minutes later Tom was in the RV and Mary said, “How come you just didn’t take your foot out and leave the shoe on the pedal?” He looked stricken — and we all had a real good laugh over it. Tom said he was thinking of a way to cut his foot off at the ankle.

My favorite ride from the trip was in the Mojave Desert. I was scheduled to do a 70-mile ride on a scorcher of a day. By 9 a.m. it was already in the mid 80s and I was scheduled to start at around 12:30, when it would be hotter. But once I was started, the heat didn’t bother me at all. As I rode through smaller and smaller towns until I was out into the desert I felt great. I was making excellent time and saw very few cars. What I mainly saw were rabbits, lizards and amazing desert flowers from the torrential rains of the preceding week.

As I was approaching the 70-mile mark I saw the support van come up from behind. I was feeling so good that I decided I wanted to try doing a century — a 100-mile ride. I had already climbed two mountain ranges, and I could see that there was another in the distance I’d need to climb. I did the final 30 during the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. The final mile or two were in total darkness — but the support van was behind me with the brights on so I could see. At the end I just coasted, all the while listening to Al Green on my I-Pod. It was great.

That night before I went to bed I took my bike into the shower and spent a good 20 minutes washing off all the sand, dirt and grime that completely caked its surfaces. I used the hotel shampoo. Unfortunately for the hotel, I also used their towels.

When we finally arrived in Peoria we were elated that we actually made it without any injuries. It was a beautiful afternoon. We circled around the sports complex and took some photos. Then we realized that we needed to find a hotel. Because of spring training, there simply weren’t any rooms available anywhere. Finally a travel agent was able to hook us up with what they billed as the last motel room in the city.

That motel was across the street from the men’s maximum security prison (with double rows of razor wire) a half block away from the women’s correctional facility, kitty corner from the state’s mental hospital and bordering one of the runways of the airport. It was also across the street from a topless bar. At least the room was clean.

The day of the Mariner’s game came and we all went to the pitching mound before the game started so that Connor — Kelly’s 12-year-old son from her first marriage — could throw in the first pitch. We were worried that he’d blow it, or take out the catcher (Dan Wilson’s) eye. But Connor threw the ball right down the middle, and we all joked about Wilson having a hurt hand.

Then, during the game, one more wonderful thing happened. Connor went to get a hot dog and a 6-year-old girl came up to him, wanting to thank him and us for everything we had done. She told him she was a cancer survivor.

To donate to the cause, go to the Web Site at: http://www.goingthedistanceforearlydetection.com/. The ball the riders carried will be auctioned off this summer at Jamie Moyer’s Catch a Cure weekend.