By Ethan Forman
Staff writer
—
With my legs burning, calves cramping and lungs gasping, I found myself nearing the summit of a "gap" in Vermont.
At that moment, it was just me and another rider taking part in a stage of the Tyler Hamilton Foundation's MS Global 2010 Ride on Sept. 18.
As we climbed, we wove all over the road like sweaty drunks, pushing the cranks with all our might for few more precious feet of asphalt.
The ride I was on was organized and being ridden by former pro cyclist and Olympic gold medalist Tyler Hamilton, 39, a former Marbleheader who now lives in Boulder, Colo. It was also organized and run by Tyler's father, Bill, a guy with a great bushy moustache and a great sense of humor.
Tyler's foundation was in the middle of its eighth MS Global ride, which in years past had taken riders to California's wine country, the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and to climbs in Italy and France ridden by the pros in the Tour de France and the Giro d'Italia.
This year's invitation-only event was being held in Vermont, with riders paying upwards of $4,700 to participate. The ride itself raises money for the neurological disability of multiple sclerosis and the Accelerated Cure Project, a nonprofit that is building repositories of blood samples to be used in research.
About 10 riders on this MS Global Ride were out to show MS who was boss by riding the event. I felt thankful to be among this close-knit group because I had simply won a raffle at my local bike shop, Marblehead Cycle.
As we headed out that morning for an 84-mile ride, I heard we would be riding two gaps that day. I guessed they call the climbs in Vermont "gaps," and near the top these roads between two peaks, I found the grade can become so steep that if you stop your bike, you can fall over.
And it was near the top of this first gap, after nearly seven miles of climbing, I found myself out of gas.
The support van with Accelerated Cure Project Development Director Karen Crumback drove past and those inside shouted encouragement. Then a silver Chrysler 300 with a handicap placard dangling from the rearview mirror roared alongside, blaring music. Later, I learned this was not some crazed local cycling fan, but Jim "Jimmy D" Dunlap of Fort Collins, Colo., a former pro rider and cycling coach whose multiple sclerosis had forced him to trade in his $7,000 bike for a $7,000 wheelchair.
After another turn, my legs cramped and I waved for the van to stop. I had abandoned the climb just 400 meters from the summit.
The van ferried me up to the small group of riders waiting at the top, including Geoff Hamilton of Marblehead, a workhorse of a rider who was taking part in his first MS Global Ride run by his younger brother. Geoff was serving as one of the ride's ambassadors keeping riders safe.
After downing some energy bars and drinks, the group plunged down the valley toward the next killer gap. I went from overheated to freezing cold as my wheels flew over slick, steep and winding roads.
It was at a rest stop at a general store before the first gap that I met Tyler Hamilton and shook his calloused hand.
Tyler has had been dogged by controversy surrounding blood doping and cheating allegations over the past six years, so I feared he would be weary of me, a newspaper reporter. But when we were introduced, he greeted me like an old friend.
I had feared taking part in this ride because I thought Tyler would be out front, crushing us all. Instead, he was riding at the back of the pack as a super "domestique" — the term for a pro rider that helps others on a team instead of going for a win — tending to some riders with multiple sclerosis.
I had found that this MS Global ride, rather than being a faceless charity event, was a rolling family of about 40 riders that had spent the week together riding, suffering up the hills, and talking about their struggles with MS over dinner.
"It becomes a family right away," said Dunlap, who can no longer ride, but who flew out to Vermont to be with the ride.
Dunlap, 50, said the ride allowed to him to do the big climbs in Italy and France before he had to give up the bike. Tyler's ride gives rider the type of cycling experience they want, he said.
Tyler makes an effort to ride with everyone who signs on, Dunlap said.
"We like to keep it kind of intimate," Tyler said of why the ride is kept small.
I spent much of the ride with Lauris Wade, a radiologist from Arlington, Vt., whose wife, Lin, has been battling multiple sclerosis for the past 6-7 years. It was Lin's cycling coach who connected the couple to the Hamiltons this year.
Wade said he would not have blamed Tyler if he had laid low these past five years, but he was glad to see that Tyler was out making a difference for people like his wife battling the disease.
Wade said the beauty of the MS Global Ride is that is challenges riders with MS to push their limits to find that sense of accomplishment. "They keep on throwing it at her," Wade said, "and they keep on looking for more."
"It's the power of the bike," Tyler said.
On the next killer gap, I abandoned the ride after 65.43 miles. I was cooked, and those in the support van pulled me off the road before the switchbacks got too steep. Behind us was Tyler, and the van drove back down the hill to hand off a jacket to a rider in this group.
From the van, I watched in awe as Tyler rode slowly up the hills, standing on the pedals and bobbing up and down with the same form that had carried him to victory on the grandest stages of pro racing. Only this time, he was helping those with multiple sclerosis conquer the climbs.
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Staff writer Ethan Forman can be reached at 978-338-2673 or by e-mail at eforman@salemnews.com.
