Last year, I let my brother, Karl, talk me into going on the ride. I didn't have a mountain bike. I had never even ridden a mountain bike. So I borrowed one. I rode the bike out to Beaudry Park and zoomed around on the bike trails that wind through the forest there. It was fun, it was easy. "That Reach the Beach will be a piece of cake... a slice of pie," I thought. Little did I know that once off the gravel roads, I would be in trouble -- big, stinking, sweating, pain-filled trouble.

I should explain the jersey. I am a survivor. I've lost a lung and a kidney to cancer. I've had surgery 11 times and chemotherapy 38 times, but I'm still here. I'm still cycling.

This year, I've bought my own mountain bike and have been riding it on the mud and gravel roads out by my cottage. I've tried riding in the sand on the beach, which is impossible.