Day Seven: The Ride and Why

It’s a bit of a slow day on the road. I’m clocking some miles to get us closer to our first city destination – Boise, Idaho – so I thought it would be a good time to share a bit about the ride, what it is and why I’m doing it.

First the ride.

It’s been a dream of mine for 20 years to ride a bicycle across America. Since my early 20s I’ve had three physical goals/challenges that I wanted to accomplish in my life. The first was to run a marathon – which I did back in 1992. The second, which I haven’t done yet, is to complete an Olympic distance triathlon – run, bike and swim (that’s actually the challenge that I was planning to train for this summer and complete this fall). And the 3rd has always been to ride my bicycle across the country (Right toe in the Pacific, Left toe in the Atlantic). I wasn’t sure how or when I was going to accomplish that one – after all, the ride is the hardest of the challenges, requiring a massive time commitment, training, effort, etc. So a few years back, I set it aside, hoping that someday the time and place would be right to complete it.

Then about 2 years ago my life changed.

We discovered a bump on the roof of my dog Marty’s mouth. It looked like a rash or irritation at first – and we hoped that was all it was – but after running some tests we learned that it was full blown cancer.

When I first got the news about Marty there was a part of me that wanted to give up. Actually, none of me wanted to give up, but there was a part of me that felt I had NO CHOICE but to give up. Because the vets kept telling me there was nothing I could do and that Marty was going to die in 3 months (if I did nothing) to 6 months (if we hit him with massive doses of radiation to temporarily shrink the tumor).

It’s a lonely and helpless feeling – and I spent several days just walking around feeling sorry for myself, horrible for my dog, and guilty that I had somehow brought this upon him. But the worst part of all was feeling that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

And then I got lucky. A friend of mine suggested I visit the holistic pet store she uses in Portland, Oregon, and talk to the owner to see if she had any suggestions that could help. The owner ended up being this wonderful woman who not only had suggestions, but for the first time since I had heard Marty’s diagnosis, actually gave me inspiration and hope that there WERE things I could do to help. And for the first time since hearing the diagnosis “cancer,” I wasn’t alone, scared or helpless. For the first time I had a plan, and a goal, and was going to do whatever it took to try to help Marty heal.

At that point there was a shift in me – and I went from helpless and resigned to feverishly researching the internet, asking questions of everybody I could think of who might have some answers for me, and trying and doing EVERYTHING I could to learn what it would take to help Marty heal. Not to give Marty an extra 3 to 6 months (we could have done that with the radiation treatments) but to give him an extra 3 to 6 YEARS or longer – to try to really try to beat this cancer and make him feel good and strong for a long, long time.

Now just to give you a little background about me… I’m a single guy, in my mid-40s – I’ve never had children – never even had another dog that was mine to care for before Marty. Marty was literally the first living being who was completely and totally dependent on ME for his survival. Whether he ate at night, whether he got taken to the bathroom, and whether he got taken care of during his sickness was entirely up to me. So when Marty got sick and I had the chance to take care of him, it was the first time in my life that I’ve ever had to really step up to the plate for someone other than myself. And I took this to heart – I did everything I could to make sure he was as well cared for as possible.

And in the process I changed. It’s one thing to care for a healthy dog –to feed them and walk them each day. It’s another to have to nurse a dog who is sick and vomiting, who needs to take 18 different supplements, who needs homeopathic treatments, energy work, and vet visits, etc., etc., etc. , each and every day.

And as I got more and more successful, caring for Marty, I had a friend who encouraged me to become a teacher – to reach out to other people who needed to know what I had learned and needed ME to be their source of hope and inspiration, so they wouldn’t feel helpless and traumatized. And he pushed me into writing a book about the things I was doing for Marty, so others could benefit from these lessons and apply the same treatments that were working so well for Marty to their dogs as well.

So I wrote my book, “Curing Canine Cancer.” And this changed my life even more. Because now, all of a sudden, I was something of an authority, helping other people an coaching them, and teaching them – and my favorite part – giving them hope. Because when cancer hits, the world seems to go out of its way NOT to give you hope.

One of my clients, Trudie, who we interviewed on Day 3 of the ride talked how, when her dog first got diagnosed with cancer, all her vet would do was send her “grieving” information (“how to deal with the loss of your dog”). It’s an assumption they make, wrongfully so, that there’s nothing you can to help.

And what I’m so proud of my book for, are the messages I get from clients over and over again, who tell me that “everyone else is trying to knock me down – you’re book is the first thing that has given me hope.” And even better are the follow up messages, 7 months later, that say “my vet gave my dog 2 months, we’ve been using the treatments you recommend and we’re now on month 7 and my VET is amazed.” Because it’s important to give people hope, but it’s even more important to have something to follow up with. And I’m really proud of the fact that the things my teachers taught me, I’m able to pass along to other dog owners and they really truly help.

Over the past year I’ve literally had over 200,000 people visit my Curing-Canine-Cancer.com website over the past year. And I’ve been fortunate to be able to help thousands of those visitors care for their dog over the past year. That’s something that makes me very proud and very happy.

But another issue that I discovered in taking care of these visitors – in the messages they would send me – was that for a lot of people it wasn’t so much desire , or willingness to help their dog that was holding them back – it was finances that was going to prevent them from helping their dog. I try to help them any way I can – generally by donating a copy of my book to anyone who wants it but can’t afford to pay (I’ve probably donated over 200 copies of the book in the past year). But the sad news is that when I do donate a copy of the book to them because they didn’t have the $47 to pay – I also know that they’re not going to have the money or the ability to do what I did to care for Marty, because nobody else (not the vets, not the pharmaceutical companies) is going to give them the care for free – and that hurts. Because every time I send out a donation copy of my book, I’m very happy that I can teach somebody and give them hope, but sad, because I know the hope I’m giving them is limited. And that really there’s not much out there that’s going to be able to help them.

I’m not about sending people really lovely messages to help cheer people up for a few minutes, or helping people with grievance counseling to get them over the hump around the loss of their dog. The same way I was in this for Marty to make sure he got all the care that he needed – not necessarily to win, but in the end to know that we’ve done everything we can to – is the way I want to be for EVERY dog I come across.

If I’m going to have a book out there… If I’m going to be online, on e-mail, on telephone calls to help people take care of their dogs, I’m there for a permanent solution. I want to be around to celebrate the 5 year anniversary with them and their dog. So unfortunately, handing them a book and nothing more, while it may provide them some really useful information and some fleeting hope, it’s just a temporary band-aid to the real problem at hand…

Which brings us to The Dog Cancer Ride Across America…

Several months ago I was at a class for online website owners, and we were talking about my website and how to reach out to people who needed this information, and somebody said “I have a crazy idea, why don’t you hop in a car this summer and drive all over the country with a video camera and meet a bunch of your clients – to connect with them and share with other people everything that had worked for their dog.” And while I thought this idea was a really cool, it took me maybe 10 minutes to realize that it wasn’t quite “it”. That driving around would be a nice way to get some interviews online, but that it didn’t really further the goal of helping dogs heal.

And then I remembered my goal and challenge, right toe in the Pacific left toe in the Atlantic, as I ride my bicycle across the country.

And thought, wouldn’t this be an amazing opportunity to use the strength of my legs, the sweat of my brow, and the soreness of my butt, to do something that really does help…

And from that day in early February 2008, in my mind the Dog Cancer Ride Across America had begun.

Now the ride has grown a lot since then, in all sorts of really cool ways – the proudest things for me being

…the scope of the event which keeps getting larger and larger,

…the ability to work together with other dog cancer charities to start making a difference,

…the money that we’ve raised so far, over $5,800, to help dogs and their owners pay for care that they otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford

…the feeling of being on my bike, first to train and now to be in the middle of the ride, 7 days in, working my way up major hills, across beautiful countryside, feeling my legs getting stronger and experiencing what it’s like to roll across the country at 15 miles per hour.

…and most importantly, what’s quickly becoming my pride and joy – The Dog Cancer Ride Across America “Map of Heroes” – which in the end has become what this ride is all about. An opportunity for dog owners and their dogs (living and passed) to come together emotionally and financially, to help take care of other dogs and their owners, while honoring the Dog Cancer Hero in each of us.

You can check out the map at – www.DogCancerRide.com/map-of-heroes/

We’ve already got 92 dogs on the Map of Heroes and we’re rapidly selling out some of the best locations on the map.

And we’re really hoping that you and your dog will join us on the ride (as I ride each day to celebrate and honor all the dogs who are working to help us fight this problem), on the road, and on the Map of Heroes

I look forward to seeing you there.

But before we finish up for the night, let me take a moment to give a BIG thank you to Larry and Beverley McGuinnigle at Zamboni’s (The Sandwich Factory) in Condon, Oregon. We stopped there mid-day to avoid the rain and got caught up in hours of conversation and some amazing hamburgers. We shot a ton of video, which will be posted soon. When we finally decided to take off and start searching for a hotel, Larry offered us the beautiful house he rents to tourists…for free!

So if you’re ever in the Condon, OR area, visit them at Zamboni’s and try their fantastic burgers.

From the Dog Cancer Ride Across America, this is Ted Schneck
and I’ll see you… on the Map of Heroes

Memories of Marty – Day 6 – The Butterfly Hunter

As I ride through the brush country of Oregon, I’m remembering one of the coolest, cutest things about Marty (the Wonderdog). His reckless sense of abandon, and total joy, in everything he did. He just threw himself, sometimes literally, into everything he did.

And somewhere along the line he decided that he was the world’s greatest butterfly hunter.

They had to be a certain type of butterfly – only the delicate white ones would do. But whenever we were out walking , if ever he caught sight of one of those white beauties, it was off to the races… This was a bit scary at times when the butterfly was on the opposite side of the street, but usually it was just great fun to watch him run and jump and dive after these butterflies, trying desperately to catch them in his mouth.

I emphasize the word “trying” here, because while Marty was, in fact, the world’s greatest butterfly hunter – he was, unfortunately, the world’s WORST butterfly catcher. Of the hundreds (thousands?) of butterflies Marty chased throughout his life, I think he only caught 2 butterflies, total. And both times that he DID manage to catch them, he had this total look of surprise on his face, and stared at the butterfly lying on the ground – confused and wondering what to do with them next.

Because for Marty it was the butterfly chase that counted. And he did this chasing with such amazing joy and spirit that you couldn’t help but laugh watching him go – especially the times when I’d watch him go flying into the air to catch the butterfly, only to realize that there was nothing under him to hold him. On more than one occasion I’d watch him leap up, only to see him disappear completely into a big old bush. No worse for wear, but definitely a bit surprised, and definitely ready to get back out there and on with the hunt.

I loved my beautiful butterfly hunter and the joy and spirit he brought to every little thing he did.

In memory of Marty (the Wonderdog)
January 1999 – August 2007

Day Six: Learning to Ride Again

I’ve done a bunch of long bicycle rides in the past… I’ve done charity rides from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Did a really beautiful trip around the island of Newfoundland in Canada (it rained on us 14 days in a row – wait, except for the one day in AUGUST when it SNOWED on us…). So I know a thing or two about riding and what to do.

But it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a bike before this ride. And there was so much stuff going on in my life with business and planning for the ride that I wasn’t quite up to speed as the ride began. And it showed, especially in the hills which were stretching me to my limits.

But today, I found myself riding up the hills in 3rd, 4th, 5th gear – which is where I want to be as I make my way uphill because 1) it means I’m feeling strong and 2) it gives me some gears that I can drop down to, to make the ride easier in case the hill suddenly starts to get steep on me.

And today was the first day that I started to feel comfortable doing that – the first day I started feeling really strong and comfortable on the bike.

Which was perfect timing, because it’s also first the day so far where I NEEDED it.

The route I’d chosen to get me through Oregon takes us down through the center part of the state over to route 26, and today was the first day that we started dropping down through the heart of the state. It’s a quirky little section – called the Passage Through Time (or something like that) – because it takes you through some REALLY small old towns along the way.

The first town I rode through was a quaint old town called Wasco, Oregon – which has pretty much nothing but a general store and post office on the downtown main street.

And as I’m shooting the breeze with some of the patrons in the general store, they ask me where I’m riding to next. And as I told them down to Condon, Oregon, their jaws dropped and it was as if they’d seen a ghost.

“On a bicycle!?!” every person I met asked. “Have you gone crazy?”

Well apparently, Wasco to Condon is a 40 mile road with absolutely nothing along it, except a giant canyon right in the center – with a hill, a long hill, a very long hill – going into and back out of the canyon. 4 miles of steep and windy downhills, followed by another 4 miles of non-stop major uphill climb. And I was about to ride into it without a care in the world.

So with a fresh supply of water and Power Bars – and a newly discovered sense of fear – I started down the road to Condon.

Things were beautiful for the first 15 or so miles – loads of winding hills and farms – and even acres upon acres of windmills (which I think are just beautiful and mesmerizing) – yet all the way I knew what loomed ahead.

And this dreaded hill did not disappoint. It began with a sign – caution windy curves next 4 miles – before dropping me into a non-stop 35 mile per hour descent into the canyon. What an amazing feeling, better than most amusement park rides I’ve been on and definitely one of the best bike downhills I’ve ever experienced. And all the time I kept thinking to myself 1) man, I have to get Ian to drive me back to the top so I can do this again, 2) man, am I going to pay the price when I have to ride up the other side and 3) this is sooooo much fun that it may be almost worth the suffering I knew was coming next.

And I was exactly right – it was ALMOST worth the suffering, because believe me, there was a long painful ride back to the top. But fortunately, today was the first time in a long time that I really felt strong and comfortable on the bike, and over an hour of chugging and chugging my way up the hill – praying the next bend would be the last – I reached the top and celebrated.

And just then my ride – Ian – arrived to take me to the hotel for the night. I ended up a few miles short of Condon, but got to have a good meal (at least the half that wasn’t stolen by Angie when I stepped out of the room for a few minutes – actually, that was the SECOND meal she had stolen today – the first was Nikki’s Garden Burger from Burgerville earlier this afternoon while they were picking up groceries. Nikki has an AMAZING photo of Angie standing in the front seat of the car, looking all guilty with the Burgerville bag literally hanging around her neck) and tomorrow morning Ian will drop me back at the spot – one major hill completed and ready to press on through to Idaho and beyond.

Bye for now. And we’ll see you down the road…

Ted Schneck
on the Dog Cancer Ride Across America

www.dogcancerride.com

Day Five: Let the Sun Shine…

From Cascade Locks, Oregon to The Dalles, Oregon (via Washington Hwy 14)
48.5 Miles

Oh my god. It is SO much easier, and SO much nicer, to ride a bicycle when the sun is out.

OK, I know I may regret that statement when I’m riding through the Midwest and it’s 106 degrees and humid, but today when it’s 70 degrees, sunny and slightly breezy – man it’s just amazing to be on a bicycle in this kind of weather.

No more wringing out my socks on the side of the road, no more teeth chattering, wearing 4 layers of clothing trying desperately to stay warm, let alone dry. Today it’s just pedal away.

Last night we spent our first night away from home at a beautiful hotel overlooking the Columbia River, courtesy of my friend Jonie, and we’re finally starting to make some headway.

And to top things off, today was about as perfect of a ride as you can have. The scenery was absolutely gorgeous – all along the Columbia River Valley. The winds were at my back (except for the end – more about that later) – and it just made for the most lovely day on the road.

I even got to stop for lunch at my favorite all time Thai Restaurant – a wonderful place in Hood River called Lamphoui’s. I’d say it was a “hole in the wall” – but truth be told, there are no walls. It’s located in a trailer parked in a parking outside of a hardware store just off the freeway. I learned about it a few years ago from a friend, and since then I make it a point to stop by for lunch whenever I’m in the neighborhood.

And after lunch, we ran to the store to buy a new 10 megapixel digital camera during lunch – which made our official ride photographer/videographer Nikki a very happy girl. I wanted to make sure we got the best possible pictures to show you along the way.

Speaking of which – the way today was wonderful – I met some great people along the way, including this great gruff cowboy of a man who shared some great stories with me alongside the river and gave me some wonderful dog chews for my dog Angie.

All in all, a near perfect day to be on the road – just a few minor quirks to keep me on my toes – including some extremely narrow – and extremely dark – tunnels that put a bit of a scare into me, and the very end of the route, where I had to turn onto the bridge to cross the river into “The Dalles” (that’s the name of the town we’re staying in tonight), which turned those amazing 25 mile per hour tailwinds, into somewhat scary and potentially dangerous 25 mile per hour SIDE winds. Let’s just say the ride across the bridge was pretty interesting and challenging on a bicycle – and not one I’m hoping to ever have to do again.

But in the end I made it home to our hotel, safe and sound, ready to rest up and get ready for tomorrow’s journey.

Good night, and I’ll see you down the road.

Ted Schneck

Day Four: Feels Like the First Day

Well, it’s finally here… The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

Yeah, I know, we’ve actually been riding for 3 days already, but it FEELS like the first day. Because today, for the first time since the ride began we’re actually leaving my house and not coming back.

Through a quirk in the route (which started on the Oregon Coast and then headed back towards my house) – plus some rainy weather forecasts – we actually slept in my house for the first 3 nights of the ride. Which was great, in a way – saving us hotel costs and making life very comfortable – but it made it feel like our journey hadn’t really begun.

Well today, it began. No more safety nets. No more “don’t worry about that, we’ll be coming back home later and can take care of it then.”

And what kind of weather greeted me on this “First Day” away from home… Why rain, of course – that’s been the consistent weather forecast since the ride began, after all – all day. Only while on the first few days the rain was just a drizzly mist – today, it really rained. Lots.

It wasn’t too bad actually – I’ve got OK rain gear (I may be investing in some professional strength riding rain gear by time we hit the Midwest summer rains) so for the most part I felt pretty insulated from the weather. The worst parts were the downhills. Because as soon as I started picking up speed, water would spray off my back tire up the back of my shirt – and off the front tire soaking my shoes and socks (note to self… – bring LOTS of extra socks along on those rainy ride days). My shoes got so soaked that I literally had to pull off the road at one point, take off my socks and wring out the water – just to put them back on and ride some more. Not my idea of fun.

And another sad part about the rain is that I was actually on one of the prettiest roads of the entire ride – along the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge. On a sunny day, the scenery is spectacular. On a rainy day – you just want to arrive at the next dry rest stop.

By the end of the day I was soaked through, teeth chattering and ready to take a hot shower and wrap myself in a warm blanket.

And luckily for me – that’s exactly what was awaiting me around the corner… Because as I turned to cross the “Bridge of the Gods” to beautiful Cascade Locks, Oregon – I saw the hotel where my friend Jonie had gifted a room to us for our first nights stay – and it was incredible. Right on the water, right under the bridge, with a balcony staring out over the beautiful Columbia River. It was the perfect location to end our first day on the road…

And man, after a long, wet, cold day, did that hot shower ever feel oh, so good…

Good night, and I’ll see you down the road.

Ted Schneck
Along the Dog Cancer Ride Across America
“82 Days, Over 4,281 Miles to honor one dog, and save the lives of many more…”
www.DogCancerRide.com

Day Three: What the Bleep Do We Know?

About 3-1/2 years ago, I bought a house and relocated myself from Southern California to Portland, Oregon. It all started with an intuition, brought on by a movie – and it began a change in my life that today, on the 3rd day of the Dog Cancer Ride Across America – found me riding my bicycle through my hometown of Portland, Oregon.

So much has changed in my life since I sat in that movie theater in Los Angeles, watching “What the Bleep Do We Know” that it was only fitting that today was a day filled with change upon change upon change.
First off, for the third straight day, the weather forecast said rain. Only today it said LOTS of rain, and thunder too. And I was scheduled to take on a difficult ride on the highway that runs along the Columbia River. Add that to the twists and turns we’ve been facing… – last night my assistant/webmaster Ian’s computer – that we were counting on using to update the website decided to stop working – and this morning, we were greeted by my 11 month old Kelpie/Border Collie girl mix, who just went into heat for the very first time – and I decided it might be a good day to take it easy, and see what we could do to get everything back on track again.

So instead of my 60 mile ride in the rain, I cut it back to 24 miles and decided to just wind my way to the opposite end of Portland.

But first, we decided to pack our camera in the car and interview another one of my dog cancer clients – Trudie and her amazing Basset Hound Humphrey for our Ride Across America Video Journal… – the interview video should be up online soon. We (Ian and me) had SUCH a great time visiting with Trudie, her husband Al and their 3 droopy dogs – I’ve decided that Basset Hounds are “all the dog packed into half the body” – and filming them with our remaining working video camera (oh yeah, our high end “professional” video camera decided to break on us too, just as the ride began – like I said, …a few twists and turns along the way).

Anyway, back to Humphrey, the dog with all ears, half legs, and such amazing spirit and love for life… we had such a nice time meeting him and his older brother and sister – sharing stories with Trudie and discussing the power of the mind and positive thinking which had done so much to help Humphrey heal. Very much along the lines of what they discuss in “What the Bleep”

[You can Meet Humphrey too in the video interview we'll be posting on the DogCancerRide.com website, or you can visit Humphrey on the Map of Heroes at location A47 (he's a "Route Sponsor)]

And as we rushed back to the starting point for the day – hoping to beat the rain, another amazing thing happened – the clouds all disappeared and a beautiful 70 degree sun came beating down upon me. It was wonderful – the first sun to appear since the start of the ride (ok, second, on day one the sun DID come out for about 30 seconds) and the perfect companion to my tour of Portland.

As I rode through the city, and the beautiful locations that had drawn me to this city in the first place, I had the luxury of a beautiful day, a gentle ride, and all the time I needed to really enjoy my last day in the city I call home for a long long time.

It was sad to ride away from my home town, knowing I wouldn’t be back for over 3 months… but fitting and perfect that the morning worries that caused me to shift all of my plans for the day, ended up creating the perfect day for the perfect ride along the route of my Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

Good night, and I’ll see you down the road…

- Ted Schneck
(from my house, actually, in Portland, Oregon)

Day Two: You Meet the Nicest People…

When the idea for the Dog Cancer Ride across America started to form earlier this year, it began with a vision of me driving my car around the country, meeting clients who had successfully used my Curing Canine Cancer book to help their dogs fight cancer. As you can see, the idea grew and changed over time – a lot – and became a dream event for me.

But the idea of meeting my clients and other dogs who were working to heal remained.

And today, before the start of Day 2, I got to meet and interview my first client for the ride. Her name is Wendy, and she and her dog Zeke have been using my book to help him fight cancer without chemotherapy for over 7 months (even though the doctors said he wouldn’t live more than 2-3 months without massive doses of chemo).

Zeke is the perfect example of how strong and resilient dogs can be in their fight against cancer – battling a very aggressive type of cancer, that had grown so much that they had to amputate one of his legs – he’s a “Tripawd” – but in spite of the cancer he still runs down the hill and plays and frolics with joy and glee. (Wendy explained that he loves to run downhill, but struggles to get back up – so they modified their 4-wheel atv to create a “throne” for him so they can ride him back up… And even though some people questioned whether Zeke would sit still to ride the throne back up the hill – apparently he jumps right up and enjoys being treated like the royalty he is.)

And speaking of Zeke’s mom Wendy, she’s pretty amazing too. Feeding Zeke a collection of nutritional cancer fighting supplements that even surpasses the “mix” I was using to keep my dog Marty so strong for so long… – which is why Zeke is still so strong and healthy today.

Oh yes, and when we got to Wendy’s house, she has the single most AMAZING view that I have ever seen from her back yard – looking over a cliff, 500 feet above the sprawling Columbia River, with miles of unobstructed natural views in every direction. We took lots of video with Wendy and Zeke, and her amazing home – you should definitely check it out (I just hope it does them all the justice they deserve).

But alas, all beautiful views must come to an end – especially if you’re planning to ride 60 miles on a bicycle back to Portland. So we said goodbye to our friends – both two legged, and three – put me back on my bicycle and sent me on my way.

The ride – cold and wet – just like day one. But the roads were nice and the sailing was smooth, all the way from Clatskanie (one of the craziest sounding town names I’ve ever seen) – and back to my home town of Portland. And for good measure, I got to spend the night in my own house, and my own bed. Enjoying my rest and looking forward to riding through my hometown tomorrow.

Oh yes, the weather forecast for the day – Rain (no surprise there…)

Well I’m off to dream of rainy rides and beautiful houses on the hill…
And I look forward to meeting you on my next stops along the way.

See you down the road.

Ted Schneck

Day One: Remembering an Old Love (or Two)

May 25th – Day 1 – 4281 Miles to go…

Four months of planning, 3 assistants helping to make sure everything was 100% ready to go for our 82 day journey to raise money for Dog Cancer charities.

And it all started with a resounding “thunk”

7am Camera Problems with our new professional video camera that we’ve been planning to use to film the Dog Cancer Ride Across America. It refuses to work – so we have to scramble for Plan B (and Plan C)

And then, better still, RAIN.

Do you know how, when you’re starting a new experience or challenge, you have a certain image in your mind about how it’s supposed to be…

Well, as I arrived to the start of the ride on the Oregon coast – to meet our guests for the official launch party – on this gray, cold, rainy Oregon day – this was definitely NOT the picture I had imagined.

But as I wandered along the beach – muttering something under my breath about bad weather (and busted video cameras) – two memories jumped into my head.

First, the vision of Marty – my fallen dog cancer hero – who so loved racing around those very same beaches. Marty, my Wonderdog, by my side, smiling and loving life, as he always did, no matter where he was or what the circumstances (or weather) might be around him. Who taught me about life and love – whose memory I was going to carry with me, over the next 82 days, as I rode my bicycle across America in honor of his life – and whose loss was going to help other dogs who needed his (and our) help along the way.

And somehow, as I remembered why I was there, the weather started to clear a bit…

And then, as my guests started to arrive, I remembered another past love – my high school sweetheart, Stephanie – and a beach date we had scheduled exactly 26 years earlier (wow, that seems like so long ago…). It was our first date, Memorial Day, 1982, and she was planning to meet me on the train from New York City, so we could join the massive swarms of people heading out to Jones Beach that day to celebrate the unofficial start of summer.

That is, until we woke up that morning and discovered it was 40 degrees outside, cloudy, with a chance of rain. Needless to say, I was pretty disappointed as I called her to reschedule our date…

“What should we do?” she asked…

“I don’t know… ” I replied, ” I could meet you in the city and we can go to a movie, or you can come out to my house… my mother said she’d cook us dinner…”

“Or………,” I continued.

And together, in unison, we both agreed – “We can go to the beach ANYWAY”

So she hopped on the train, and I packed our beach picnic kit – 2 blankets, one for under us, and one on top – and together we joined 6 other people on the entire beach - for what, to this day, easily ranks as one of the best days of my life, rain or shine.

And as I stood on the beach today, May 25th, Day 1, I remembered that day, and how wonderful a gray and dreary day at the beach could be – and decided to myself “I’m going to enjoy the beach ANYWAY”

And as I sit here now, 12 hours and 55 miles later, writing the first of many blog posts about my Dog Cancer Ride Across America – Day 1 turned out to be pretty wonderful.

The rain stopped (the sun even peaked out for about 2-1/2 minutes at one point) – I got to spend the morning/afternoon with good friends (one even rode the first 10 miles with me) – and best of all, I got to do the ceremonial “Right Toe” dip in the Pacific that I’ve been dreaming about for so long and set off on this wonderful 82 day adventure to come.

And as I get ready for day 2 of this adventure tomorrow (partly sunny, 30% chance of rain) – I hope you’ll share this adventure with me and help honor all the loves, living and passed, as we ride across America to help those dogs who could use a little sunshine to brighten their own cloudy days…

Until I see you next time along the road…

- Ted

Introduction

We’re the lucky ones, you and me.

Sure we’ve been through some tough times – and watched our dogs suffer through a disease they couldn’t understand and definitely didn’t deserve. But through it all, we were lucky – because no matter how much they (and we) suffered – at least we could afford to get our dogs the care they needed to have a chance. Maybe it was a surgery or chemo, or the natural remedies that worked so well for my dog Marty when he was sick.

But at least our dogs HAVE A CHANCE…

My name is Ted Schneck, and I run a website that helps hundreds of dog owners each month find hope and learn what they need to do to help their dog fight cancer.

This summer I’ll be riding my bicycle across America – Pacific to Atlantic – 4,281 miles, over 82 days – to raise money for charities that help dog owners who couldn’t otherwise afford it pay for their dog’s cancer care. I’ll leave from the Oregon Coast on May 25th (right toe in the Pacific) – and end with my left toe in the Atlantic on August 14th, 2008 (the 1 year anniversary of my own dog Marty’s death after his 18 month long battle with cancer).

This Dog Cancer Ride Across America supports 3 wonderful dog cancer charities – “The Magic Bullet Fund”, “Best Friends Forever”, and the newly formed “Marty Miracle Fund” – which was formed to honor my own dog Marty, and help other dogs get the same miracle of life he got through the natural remedies we used to care for his cancer. All tax-deductible donations to the Dog Cancer Ride Across America will be managed by “Giving Globally” 501(c)(3) (an Oregon based 501(c)(3) non-profit) to ensure that these donations get to the dogs who need it most. (You can read more about these wonderful charities on the Charities Page of our website.

I encourage you to check out this website, learn more about the ride, the charities and the dogs it supports… (don’t forget to check out the MAP OF HEROES, where you can add your personal tribute to your own “Dog Cancer Hero”), and most of all, go to my secure fundraising sponsorship page, where you can donate any amount to help these wonderful dogs get access to the natural cancer care they deserve…