This weekend we finished our 17th year riding in the Courage Classic. For those just tuning in to our journey, the Courage Classic is a two-day bike ride benefiting Children’s Hospital Colorado. We started riding when Samantha was 3 years old, and Children’s Hospital Colorado became our second home. The doctors there never stopped fighting for her. They later cared for Ryan, and today they continue to care for families living with mitochondrial disease. Every mile we ride is our way of saying thank you. The team grew into a consistent top-ten fundraiser and to date, we have donated over $1.5MM to the mitochondrial clinic through this ride.

The ride is not for the faint of heart! The first day is 80 miles through the Colorado Rockies and climbing three passes. It’s a beautiful, emotional ride that I did not train for this year…..at all.

In fact, I decided to sign up three weeks ago. On Friday, I dusted off my bike, removed the Courage Classic tags from last year, and headed up to Copper Mountain for the ride. I had no expectations and made the comment that we were kind of ‘limping’ through this year’s ride.

If I’m honest, our whole family has been limping through this year.

I was greeted in Copper by dear friends who surprised me for the weekend. As I was navigating through the parking garage, there they were, in full force, in full support, in full surprise. Me? Shocked and Grateful…..good friends are the best.

Saturday was a charged day. It was Samantha’s birthday; the climb was up Vail Pass. Did I mention that I hadn’t trained? Suddenly my lack of expectations turned into anxiety over whether I could still ride a bike.

And I started off. I listened to the U2, Joshua Tree playlist as I climbed, one of Ryan’s favorites. Despite the fires in the area, the morning was clear, the mountains enveloping, and the wildflowers were beautiful, and I was reminded once again how lucky I am for this time on this earth.

I thought of Ryan and his love of this area, Copper, Vail, Vail Pass, the Gore Mountain Range. I thought of Samantha and who she would have been at 20 years old. And I thought of Cynde, fighting her fight. I reminded my legs to stop complaining. My lungs to settle down and just breathe. There are harder climbs in life than Vail Pass.  

I kept riding, down Vail Pass, into Vail and onto Minturn. Mom and Jim met me back in Vail for a much needed, much appreciated SAG wagon back to Copper.

Later that afternoon, Dad, Cynde and Hubs joined us in Copper. We sat together in the sunshine talking about exactly the kinds of things families never imagine they’ll discuss over a post-ride beer: cancer, the death of a son, Samantha’s birthday, what she might have been like at 20, and Jim’s knee replacement.

I looked at these amazing people I call family, who joined me for the Courage Classic, and the resounding word I came up with for this group is appropriately…….

Courage.

For all that we have done.

It takes courage to shave your head.

It takes courage to bury a child.

It takes courage to get up the next day and face the world.

And to face the world with a sense of positivity, clean underwear, and teeth that are brushed.

It takes courage to be present. To laugh. To be vulnerable. To embrace others. To ask for help.

My friends joined us and remarked that this was a group that had divorced, forgave, embraced each other, and were now sitting around laughing and drinking Aperol Spritzes.

I remarked that the Aperol Spritz is the most welcoming of summertime cocktails and, of course, everyone should be friendly when an Aperol Spritz is in your hand.

But really it is more than that.

That at the end of the day, it was about Jack, it was about Samantha, it was about Ryan, and somewhere among all of this tragedy, it is about hope and Cynde and this terrible diagnosis.

And that is what we do. And it does take courage. And yes, this weekend was better, so much better than I ever thought it could be. We even got a great shout out from the Children’s Hospital Foundation:

Thank you, dear tribe.