3,100 miles in 31 days
The desire to do something like this came the morning my Dad died. He fought cancer for two years and lost his battle in the early morning hours of November 4th 2018. A few hours later, I sat in a local breakfast spot with my fiancé and son, numb and in disbelief, staring at a plate of french toast, but not really in the mood to eat. That’s when the idea to use my bike and body to fight cancer came to mind. It wasn’t a “this would be kinda cool” sort of thing. It was a sense of duty. It was something that needed to be done.
Saudade is a Portuguese word with no English translation and no concrete definition, but the general tone is a feeling of longing or a beautiful sadness. My favorite, and probably most simple of definitions is missing someone but in a happy way. In other words, you're sad that they are gone but happy they were a part of your life. I think most of us who have lost someone to cancer can relate to this feeling. I chose this name as a tribute to my Dad and my Portuguese heritage.
For a little while, I wondered what exactly I was going to do. I figured a fundraiser centered on some sort of ride would be a good bet. What kind of ride is of a grand enough scale to attract attention to the cause? Who would be the beneficiary to receive donations? It didn’t take long before I stumbled upon Leave It On The Road and read about the epic 2013 cross-country ride as well as all the amazing rides that followed. I read the stories of all the riders involved with LIOTR. I researched cancer cell and gene therapy and how it’s at the leading edge of cancer treatments. It all seemed so perfect; a group of incredible individuals with stories similar to mine who were already doing exactly what I want to do. I had the inspiration I needed and, perhaps just as importantly, I had found the flag I wanted to fly.
Fast forward to 2020 and there’s now the added challenge of a worldwide pandemic. With the original idea to ride across the U.S. looking rather irresponsible, I decided to ride a century every day for the month of July. This would involve riding from my apartment’s front door each day, carrying everything I needed for the day on my back and on my bike as to make stops and contact with others unnecessary. The decision to ride 100 miles a day for a month actually came to me pretty easily. There wasn’t any long, hard thought about it. I sort of just said, “This is what I’m going to do” and that was that.
The first week was definitely the worst. I had trained with a lot of pre-pandemic gym work and then tons of trainer time/solo rides once stay-at-home orders were issued. I still sort of felt unprepared. I imagined my body yelling, “What are you doing to me?!” Even with what is typically a super comfortable position on the bike, everything hurt. I developed a rash on my sit-bone areas and my hands ached constantly. During the rides I’d be massaging my palms at stoplights and once at home, applying diaper rash cream to keep the rash from turning into saddle sores. About 4 or 5 days in, while dealing with all of this, nature decided it wasn’t quite enough and a hornet stung me behind my right knee. The searing pain of that sting lasted the rest of the day. I sincerely apologize to anyone in the area who may have heard my loud river of swearing that day.
As the days progressed and miles accumulated, word started to spread and donations started coming in. This was what I needed to keep going. My body, by this point, figured this is what life is going to be like for the foreseeable future. The discomfort, although still present, became manageable. As the centuries continued, it started to subside. The human body is truly amazing in its ability to adapt to the stresses being put upon it. I’ve learned that we are capable of so much more physically than we maybe give ourselves credit for.
The best part, for sure, was leaving my apartment in the dark, around 5am, and watching the sunrise every morning. The kaleidoscope of blues, pinks, and purples across the sky every morning was always a morale boost. Variations of the same route, which had some truly stunning scenery through the farmland of New Jersey, helped as well. I had a core route that I had chosen based on its rolling nature and my mood each day would determine if I would branch off of that route to mix it up. Lots of climbing was out of the question because the long, slow efforts would cause a great deal of discomfort. Super flat routes were just as bad since there were no real chances to coast and take a break. Rolling terrain was the key.
The equipment I used performed beautifully. The Specialized Crux I rode was, of course, originally built up for reliability to withstand the rigors of CX racing. The setup included mechanical everything since I figured if I snapped a brake cable during pre-ride, I could easily change it, while a hydraulic brake bleed required a trip to the bike shop. This was the mindset for CX racing, but it became especially valuable for this ride since the pandemic made local bike shops inundated with repair work and 3 to 4 week turnaround times became the norm. I owe the success of maintaining safety during the pandemic to my hydration pack, which carried 2.5 liters of water, tools, inner tube, first aid kit, pump, and a mini tripod. In my handlebar bag was all of my nutrition and my top-tube bag contained my phone and Canon G7X Mark II camera. With regards to kit, I wore a wide range of Rapha clothing spanning their Pro Team, Classic, Brevet, and Core collections. The Cargo Bibs were fantastic on some of the days where rain was a threat since I could have my rain jacket at the ready in the side pockets. However, the Pro Team Training jersey and bibs became my favorite over the course of the month. To quote Ned Flanders, it felt like I was, “wearing nothing at all!”
I was floored by the outpouring of support from those who followed along. Every day came messages of encouragement, from friends and family, but many from people I didn’t know who were located all over the world. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for that.
As the month of July came to an end, I chose to end with a century in a local park where my Dad and I used to ride together. It’s a 1.8-mile loop that’s fairly flat with one little hill on the backside of the course. I invited anyone who was local to come and watch the finish. As I completed the final lap, I heard my Dad’s last words to me of “I love you, son” in my head and cried most of the way around the park. Crossing the finish line was all a total blur that I can only recount because of the video that was taken of it by my fiancé, Angellica. I crossed the line with one hand in the air and the other over the pendants of my Dad’s necklace, which I wore every day. I turned back to join the little “crowd” of friends and family and fell into my Mother’s arms. In that moment, hugging my Mom was beautiful, but I later felt bad about it since a hug isn’t exactly social distancing.
By the 31st of July, 3,118 miles had been ridden; nearly 120,000 feet had been climbed; and just a hair under 226 hours spent in the saddle. All said and done, nearly $12,000 was raised with Leave It On The Road and will be donated to ACGT Foundation. It’s been an extremely challenging but immensely rewarding experience. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Special thanks to Rapha North America and Bicycling Magazine for supporting and promote Anthony’s epic effort.
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