Afterword

Afterword

October 15: Key West to Miami, by van

We all met in the hotel parking lot at Big Belly at 9:00 a.m. The goal was to box up all the bikes and collect any of our stuff that was still spread around in the vans. Jim was on hand to help with the bike disassembly. In fact, he ended up disassembling my bike for me. Thank goodness. My head was in no shape to attempt bike mechanic work. I bequeathed to him the bottle of Kahlua I had bought to contribute to the group's evening happy hours, but which barely had been touched.

I started cleaning out the Average White Van. Its contents were like a scrapbook of our ride: half-empty water bottles, unclaimed gift baskets, stray t-shirts, the trust bike pump, candy wrappers, potato chip bags, a pair of muddy shoes, football stadium bleacher cushions, a few unidentifiable bike parts, old newspapers, some press kits, a sock. A wave of nostalgia (or was it nausea?) came over me.

As I was working, Ed came up to me and said, "In a minute, I want you to announce that I'm saying my formal goodbyes." He was wearing shorts but no shirt. Fear filled my heart. "Ed," I said, "are you planning to do it NAKED?" Ed assured me that he was not. So I waited the appropriate amount of time and announced Ed's formal goodbyes.

Ed appeared from behind the van in a long yellow chiffon gown - a FORMAL gown, I should say - and played a melancholy tune on his recorder. I tried to show my support by dancing around him like one of those flowy scarf girls from the Grateful Dead concerts. Ed has talked about the "formal goodbyes" pun before, so pretty much everyone got the joke.

Some of us laid out one of our team jerseys for everyone to sign. My goodness, how do you sum up all that a person has meant to you with a Magic Marker on a shirt? It was a lot easier doing this sort of thing in high school, when we signed class yearbooks: "Stay sweet." "Don't ever change." "Luv ya!" "Can't wait for 12th grade!" Actually, people did a pretty good job on my jersey. Invite me to speak about the ride to your group, and I promise to wear it.

Some of us said some teary goodbyes, but a lot of people just sort of wandered off. There was no final team au revior, no holding hands, no singing cumbayah. John's parents had graciously invited all of us out to brunch, so some of us did that.

I, Rodney, JD, Jim and his girlfriend Trisha, and Frank and his wife Vicki joined John and John's parents, aunt, uncle and grandmother at a funky little place near downtown Key West for mimosas and brunch around 1 p.m. I ordered a tall stack of blueberry pancakes. It arrived looking more like a tower than a stack. There was a spontaneous group exclamation, which translated to, "There's no WAY she'll be able to eat all those pancakes." I thought the same thing. So I was a little embarrassed when the waiter came to take my plate away, and all that was left on it was a lone blueberry and some syrup. John gave me a sympathetic look that reminded me the team knows my eating habits plenty well by now. His relatives seemed to be checking to make sure their fingers were nowhere near my mouth.

After brunch we wandered around the tourist strip in Key West, bought some souvenirs, and read the corny and/or lewd sayings at the t-shirt shops. I felt heavy with the realization that in just a few hours, I would have to get in the van and ride back up to Miami, where I would fly out the next morning. Or maybe it was all those pancakes. Anyway, I was a little depressed, although trying my best to enjoy these last hours in Key West with those of My People who were still around.

Against my will, 4:00 came. I left my boxed bike with John, who kindly took care of the UPS details. I got in Big Belly with Cate, Peter, JD, Rodney, Frank and Vicki, and we headed up to Miami. If it had been a movie, I would have stared out the window pensively, with a tear rolling down my cheek, and I would have been in a train instead. As it was, I stretched out on one of the back seats of the van and promptly fell asleep.

We stopped once along the way for gas and a pee/beverage break, once to buy a Key Lime Pie, and then once more that evening at a fabulous seafood restaurant we stumbled across on one of the Keys. It was a typical number of stops, but it felt strange not to be making them on a bike. I really admire the support folks who had to drive the vans. I would go crazy doing all that driving and stopping with no biking.

We had some more big laughs over dinner. I swear, once you're in the habit of laughing with a group of people, you just can't stop, even in the saddest of times. It's an amazing phenomenon that should be studied. Maybe this was one of the features that attracted people to communes in America in the 1960s. Obviously that didn't work out, so they must not have laughed as much as we have. Maybe having all our hotels and food provided helped ease the burdens of daily living for us, so we could focus on the laughing.

Or maybe it's just that our group was the best bunch of people you could ever gather together to support a great cause and do some biking. I tell you, now I understand why some people get tattoos - especially why Olympians get the Olympic rings. Like Olympians, I want something to mark me forever as having been part of this spectacular experience and this incredible team. (Mom, I'm just speaking poetically.)

This is only the third year of the ride. Imagine when it's in its 20th year. I'll be able to say, "I DID that ride, back at the beginning, when it was just barely established. What an unforgettable experience." There will be hundreds of alums to share stories with. We will come together from all over the country (the world?) from time to time, and perhaps ride our bikes. We will all share a unique bond.

I'm sure the ride itself will change over time. Probably by the next ride in 2002, everyone will have cell phone watches, and no one will be dropping two-way radios. Maybe they'll all have helmet-mounted mini-cams to record the trip, or send images straight to the Internet. Come to think of it, maybe within 10 or 20 years there will be a way to manufacture blood, organs and tissues, or maybe cloning will end the shortage. LifeSouth might become the LifeSouth Community Blood Manufacturing Centers. Maybe the purpose of the ride will change to raising money for those who can't pay to have their blood or organs manufactured. Maybe there will be no need for this ride at all. Or maybe the name will change to something else, like the 5 Points of Life Africa Ride. It will be interesting to see.

Anyway, looking back on the whole thing, I feel many things. First, I feel a huge sense of accomplishment. I DID IT! I got a kidney transplant, and then I rode a bike almost 3,000 miles in seven weeks. No one will ever be able to say transplant recipients aren't capable of doing a ride like this. It's been done. I done it. Transplantation works.

I also feel extreme gratitude towards my kidney donor and donor family. They made this possible. I can never be able to repay them for this invaluable gift. But I do hope I have made them proud and confirmed for them that they made the right decision to donate a kidney to me.

Third, I feel deeply grateful to TransWeb for agreeing to publish this diary on its site on the Internet. Prior years' rides did not have anything like the Internet presence of this year's ride. If even one person has seen this diary and been inspired to give the gift of life, or to hang in there until a transplant comes, or to share the message about donation with others, it will have been worth it. In fact, I believe the diary has had a much more widespread effect. We may not be able to measure it, but I feel confident some evidence will surface that the on-line publicity about the ride has changed people's lives.

Fourth, I feel grateful to LifeSouth Community Blood Centers and the dedicated people there for putting on this trip. This is the first year LifeSouth has broken even on the ride. In past years, the ride cost LifeSouth money. And LifeSouth doesn't even directly benefit from the ride except in Florida and a few towns in Alabama and Georgia. Yet they have the ride go across the country. They just do this because it's the right thing to do and they believe in it. Can you imagine? Could somebody please nominate these people for the Nonprofit of the Year award?

Also, I learned a lot from LifeSouth. When I started out on this ride, I was all about organ donation. But I realized during the ride that blood donations are desperately needed and life-saving, too. Blood is even necessary for a transplant. Whenever an organ is transplanted, there is a risk of internal bleeding. So the transplant may not happen if there's not enough blood on the shelf at the hospital. I also learned a lot about bone marrow, stem cells and umbilical cord blood.

Of course, all the sponsors were really great, too. The events they planned were first-rate, as were the people we met from each sponsor. And I owe a big thanks to the generous and skilled people at my local bike shop on Lombard Street, Start to Finish, for getting my bike in shape to make the long journey.

Finally, I feel fortunate to have met such a great group of people. Every one of them is so special to me. I got to witness and participate in our transformation from a bunch of strangers -- individuals who came from all different places and backgrounds - to a very tight family. It is amazing to me that we spent 14 to 18 hours a day together, EVERY day for seven weeks, and never got sick of each other (well, at least I didn't get sick of anyone). Try doing that with your own family. In fact, with each passing day, I came to like these people more and more. It sounds Pollyanna, I know. But it's really true.

We all transformed together, sometimes in profound ways. For instance, one day near the end of the ride, Marsha asked me if she could donate one of her kidneys to someone. She said, "You know, I only need one. Why not give the other one away?" I told her she could definitely donate a kidney to a family member or friend, assuming she was a match. She said, "No, I don't know anyone who needs a kidney. I just want to give one of mine to whoever needs it." I told her this is still pretty rare, but anonymous donations are being done in some transplant centers. Check that out. Our little Masher - a pioneer in anonymous donations! I knew from the start she was a very giving person, but this was beyond giving. She blew me away. (I found out just recently that Peter intends to do the same thing. Wow.)

Another very touching development to witness was John's struggle with why he was on the ride. He was very well connected with the Five Points of Life. After all, he had received blood and bone when he broke his neck, and he was a bone marrow donor. When he saw the advertisement for the ride in a bone marrow donor publication, he figured he had a good chance of making the team. He was excited to ride a bike down the Atlantic Coast. But as the trip went on, he really started asking himself what was his purpose for doing the ride.

For people like me, Frank and Nancy, purpose was a no-brainer. I knew beyond all doubt that this ride was something I wanted to do, had to do, and was destined to do. I had decided to take on organ donation as my cause. I planned back in early 1999 to do a bike ride across the United States while on dialysis to raise awareness about the need for organ donation and inspire other kidney patients to exercise. I had to scrap that plan when I got the kidney transplant, but now another chance had arisen to do a ride. Frank's purpose was like mine, to honor donors and donor families. But his purpose was stronger: he owed his LIFE to an organ donor. I could have gone on on dialysis indefinitely. Frank was riding for his life, and the lives of others. Nancy knew she had to do the ride for her son Sean. I think it was cathartic for her to talk about him, remember him and honor him so much. Her purpose was to represent all Moms who might ever have to face the unthinkable - losing their child.

For John, the purpose was not as easy. He came up with one purpose, which was to educate others about how the bone marrow donation process works, and how easy it is for people to do. But it became clear by the end that he still wasn't quite satisfied with that purpose. He was still struggling with the question, being willing to stay uncomfortable until he found some answers.

And that was the beauty of it. I mean, just think about how much of our lives we spend plodding along, doing whatever we're doing without asking ourselves why. Some people live their entire lives without ever asking why. We feel like there is not a lot of choice; life happens TO us. It's more comfortable that way. We don't have any responsibility for how or where our lives are going.

But here's John, looking deep inside and really asking himself WHY he's on the trip. The very asking implies a choice: he could have chosen not to be on the trip, yet here he is. Now he's taking responsibility, and searching for the reason he chose to do the trip. He's not settling for the idea that the ride just happened to him. He's inquiring. That's pretty huge, I think.

Another great transformation I saw was Cheryl's relationship to me. When I first met her in Bar Harbor, I tried to give her a hug (I'm a big hugger.). It was not returned. She was cordial, but very private at first as my roommate. By the end, she was like a sister to me. One of my happiest moments was in Miami, when she borrowed one of my shirts to wear out at night. I almost cried! Cheryl gave me a card on the last day of the ride. In it she wrote, "To sum it up - you're just one exceptional human being and I'm proud to have been a part of this ride with you and consider you one of the best friends I'll ever have." You know, I feel the same way about her. Am I lucky or what?

Overall, the ride and the people on it reminded me again and again why I'm so glad I received the gift of life. Why? Because despite all the hassles, the difficulties, the battles we sometimes have to fight just to have life, life is FUN!

Thanks for reading, and may you always have fun in your life.