Yesterday, I rode 70 miles in the desert. It wasn’t just any desert; it was Death Valley, Calif., and I can promise you it’s named that for a reason. I set out for California with every intention of riding the full 105 miles to Jubilee Pass and back. But Saturday morning, my goal changed. I only wanted to ride 97 miles because in December, my grandmother would’ve celebrated her 97th birthday.
The night before my ride, Jesus called my grandmother home while she was surrounded by my family. When Saturday morning arrived, the ride became something else; it was no longer just about diabetes. It was about my grandmother and about my family. I felt so incredibly selfish for being in California. I almost didn’t come knowing she might not make it through the weekend, but my family insisted I finish what I started. I woke up Saturday to text messages from my cousins encouraging me and reminding me she was the one who taught me to be a fighter. They reminded me this ride wasn’t about me at all. And they were right.
That 70 miles meant more to me than you will EVER understand. I rode through pain, through dropping blood sugars, through high blood sugars and through many, many tears. That doesn’t deserve any special accolade because 315 others did the same thing, and they are absolutely amazing people! But for me, it was the most difficult thing I remember doing in my 30 years.
I planned to ride with several people, but our paces changed the plan. I rode alongside a mom and daughter from Seattle — Renea and Elizabeth. Elizabeth is 15 years old and a type 1 diabetic as is one of her brothers. Renea is an angel and was my lifesaver more than once during the ride. They knew about my grandmother and were determined to help me clock my 97 miles. But it wasn’t in the cards. Turns out, I have limitations after all.
At the 35-ish miles rest stop, we were told to turn around. We hadn’t made the cutoff time to continue to Jubilee Pass, and we were going to have to settle for 70 miles. We got permission to ride six more miles and turn around so we could at least log an 80-miler for the day.
We refueled our water bottles and headed back. With 19 miles left to go, I was hurting. I was extremely hot, high and felt the urge to throw up. I took a SAG (support and gear) ride back to the next rest stop. From there I had 10 miles to go. I started along those last 10 miles, and I struggled. They hurt intensely, but I kept pedaling. I made it until I had two miles to go, and I waited there for Renea and Elizabeth. When they made it to me, they had a coach with them. Dan from Wisconsin. There are no words to describe those last two miles. I had to stop and walk for a second and Renea, Elizabeth and Dan stopped with me.
About one mile away, you could see the stop sign at the top of the hill. From there, it was one mile downhill to the finish line. Renea and Elizabeth set off for the last mile and Dan waited with me. I was crying, and I’d hit my wall just like my cousin warned I would. One mile. That’s all I had left. But that one mile was uphill and might as well have been Pike’s Peak. Dan helped me catch my breath and asked if I was religious. I smiled and said yes and he turned around to show me his calf. On it was an Ironman tattoo with “Psalms 140:6” beneath it.
“I say to the Lord, ‘You are my God!’ Hear, Lord, my cry for mercy!”
And just like that, there was my Jesus in the desert where I’d prayed all day He’d be. Dan from Wisconsin had no idea what that verse meant to me. He had no idea I’d lost one of the most special people in my life the night before. Or that the mercy I needed was both physical and emotional. He had no idea I’d been praying for this ride and the 316 riders since February. Or how many of you were praying for me back home. He had no idea, how in that moment, I was riding for my family — for my grandmother. I climbed on my bike and stared at the white line along the shoulder. I didn’t look up till I could hear the cheer from the top of that hill.
The tears started there, and by the time I cruised into the finish line, I couldn’t stop crying. Emotional was not the word for it. Jeff was the first person I saw. Then Ross and Sarah. I rode in four deep with Dan, Renea and Elizabeth. I don’t know how I did it, but I’m certain it had absolutely nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with those people mentioned above, countless others in California, my family in Tennessee and especially the words you have prayed over me for months.
I did it because of you, and I did it for you. Together, we raised more than $4,000. Together, we fought to cure diabetes and we will continue the fight until there is a cure. Together, even if in spirit, we crossed that finish line as a family. So thank you. To everyone in Death Valley, to Aly and everyone with JDRF and to all of you, we did it!
Thank you seems so inadequate to say. I was told this weekend would change my life. It definitely did that. I was told it would be an experience I’d never forget. It will definitely be that. But as it turns out, we didn’t cure diabetes in Death Valley so I guess that means I’ll have to keep on riding to cure diabetes. I didn’t get 105 miles, but I got 70. And something tells me my grandmother would have been proud of that, too.
I’m so proud of you! I am crying as I read this. God shows up in the most unexpected ways from the most unexpected places EXACTLY when we need Him. I’m so sorry for the loss of your Grandmother, but I know God is smiling down on you and she is with Jesus basking in His Glory. ((((hugs))))
Congrats on the 70 miles, Victoria! Sounds like an incredible journey and experience, and you had some outstanding company (physically and in spirit) along the way. God Bless. You and your family are in my heart and prayers.
And your grandmother is so very proud of you!
You made me cry but that’s okay as they’re tears of joy because – You Did It!
You rode, you helped raise money for a cure!
You are an amazing young woman!
Victoria-
I’m proud of you!!! I’m sorry about your Grandmother! my thoughts and prayers are with you. hugs
I’m so sorry for the loss of your grandmother, Victoria. But I am so, so proud of you for what you’ve accomplished on this ride, both physically and emotionally. You are amazing. (( hugs ))
Hey! I took your photo with renae and elizabeth at badwater. I thought you were sisters. Your post is so touching. I lost both my grandpas a year ago and could feel tears reading yourpost because I can so well remember that pain of being so far. I also know that pikes peak mental pain. And the crying the last mile. You’re amazing it was an honor to meet you!
Amazing job pushing through and riding 70 miles! I am so sorry that you lost your grandmother. I hope you are proud of yourself for what you accomplished!
I’m so sorry for the loss of your Grandmother, Victoria. The appearance of Dan at the right time/place with the right words to share could only be a “divine appointment”. Wow. May God’s grace and peace continue to shower down upon you as you continue your life’s journey. Thank you for sharing this moment with us.
You are an amazing person. You did awesome. Know you and yours are in my prayers.
Amazing the people He puts in our paths, isn’t it? Dan and the others were there with the right words, right spirits — and the right tattoo — right when you needed them. Congratulations! See you soon :)!
Victoria,
What a weekend. You must have had all sorts of emotions pulling at you from all sorts of directions.
You are an amazing person, and I’m so proud of you for doing all that you’ve done!
You should have so much pride in the ride you did. It was a hard event, and you did so well. That bike you were riding easily made it 50% harder for you than the rest of us. There’s your 105 miles right there!
I am so, so sorry for the loss of your grandmother. My condolences to you and your family. However you did a truly courageous thing this weekend. Way to go Victoria! You should be so very proud of yourself. We are all so proud of you 🙂
Victoria… so sorry to hear about your grandmother. Considering everything you were dealing with, 70 miles is remarkable. You are a champion.
Of course your Grandmother is proud of you. ALL of us are. YOU ARE AMAZING!!! Geez, I get winded DRIVING 70 miles. 😛
I’m so proud of you. Really, I couldn’t be prouder of you. I seriously want to be you when I grow up. Except that I’m 14 years older than you & will probably never grow up. 😀
Love you, kiddo!!!
I’m so proud of everything you accomplished this weekend. I am so glad that I was at the finish line to see you and hand you your medal!! You did awesome and can’t wait for Nashville next year!
You did it! I love the instant friendship and family that developed on the ride just because you guys were all experiencing the same thing together.
I am so proud of you and am thankful I got to meet your grandma last Thanksgiving.
what an amazing experience, thank you so much for sharing.
i am so sorry for the loss of your grandmother, but you know she’s proud of what you’ve accomplished!
I am so proud of everything you accomplished and I’m incredibly inspired by your spiritual, mental, and physical strengths.
Xoxo
Kelly K
Victoria,
Thank you for sharing your experience of the ride in Death Valley from a very personal physical and emotional point of view. You have every reason to be happy that you rode 70 miles. Some people would/could not have been able to rise above the emotional struggle you were facing to get on the bike that day. I applaud you, Victoria. You are a winner!
Nancy (Jeff’s mom)
This is a journey not many get to participate in. You did it for yourself and to prove to the world what diabetes can do. DESPITE everything.
And isn’t Jeff the best hugger EVER?! That man is a shining star!
congrats. You.Should.Be.PROUD!