I feel so guilty. I am going to go back to hard-core training, work my way up to another century ride, ask friends to donate to JDRF to support that ride, and basically give my heart, soul and a season or two to the cause of finding in a cure for Type 1 Diabetes.
And I feel guilty.
This is because when I took on the JDRF Ride to Cure last year, I honestly did it with one year in mind, with the plan to honor Lauren’s 21st birthday and 15 year “Diaversary” in a big way. And we did just that, raising nearly $40,000 (one of the top fundraisers in all the rides across the country!) and absolutely putting Lauren over the moon.
People kept saying to me, ‘You’ll do it again,” but I knew this was special thing and for the time being, I would not do it again.
But almost immediately after the ride ended, my email alerts and Facebook alerts started buzzing. From people like me – regular folks who’d never done a long ride but who cared, passionately, about finding a way to move us closer to a cure. And they were telling me they, too wanted to ride.
So the thing is: how could I say no? I knew I could not repeat the amazing thing we all pulled off together for last year’s ride. But I could help motivate and lead a new group or riders to pump even more funding into crucial research.
And yet, I feel guilty. Because if I am going to lead, I have to fundraise. That means I have to ask again. So I am going to be asking again. With a caveat: I fully understand that last year was special. That people gave at a level they usually would not. But I’m hoping my many, many friends who gave might consider giving a portion of what they gave last year.
Some things to motivate you:
*Reread my blog about our nearly losing Lauren. I’m not one to walk around whining and worrying; it has been my goal since day one (which was Oct. 28, 1997) to not let this negatively impact our happiness and spontaneity. But there it is: diabetes is a killer. And it lives in our house as well as the house of millions of others. We need to find a way to make living with this insidious disease easier – and safer – until we find the cure. That’s motivation to give, I hope.
*Meet Brett. Brett is the son of a young woman I’ve known for most of her life. She’s a hard-working single mom who is thisclose to her law degree. And her only son, Brett, was diagnosed less than a year ago. This hit me hard. I have this terrible concern every time a friend becomes a grandma or one of my kid’s friends have a baby: please, I think. Please don’t ever let it be them. We need to find a way to stop the onset of Type 1 Diabetes. That’s motivation to give, I hope.
*My daughter is thriving, but that comes only with a steep price. Look at Lauren: in her junior year of college and rocking her classes; working at her dream internship; dating a nice guy and surrounded by lots of awesome sorority sisters and other friends; working at an excellent banking job each summer. But still –as it has been for going on 16 years now – every step she takes, every decision she considers – must be overlaid with “Okay. What’s my blood sugar now? Do I have my meter and strips? Is my insulin here? Will that make me high or low? I need a plan.” She makes it look effortless, but it’s not. I dream of the day when Lauren just wakes up, rolls out of bed and lives. No more constant life support system that she’s basically running on her own. She’s also had to learn to do much of this without me. Read my post on her first hospitalization without me by her side. She rocked it. But it’s not acceptable. That’s motivation to give, I hope.
So I do feel guilty. I really never expected to ride again. But in this life of Type 1 Diabetes, I have always, always, answered when called.
I’ve been called again to ride. I hope you don’t mind me calling you again to give. We can do amazing things together. I hope today you’ll click on below and start me on this year’s journey. (and it’s not too late to join me and ride, Just ask!)