Bike riders, community made cancer fundraiser a success

Published 1:01 pm Friday, August 15, 2014

By Nina Milligan

Last Sunday morning approximately 150 bike riders dressed in orange and black “kits” rolled through Issaquah and up East Lake Sammamish Parkway. Cruising through this half-way point of their 100-mile ride, they were spread out, riding in twos and threes, many alone.

Many were cancer survivors; all were touched by cancer.

The ride raised funds for the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and goes by the edgy name, “Obliteride.” The event is an entirely local ride in its second year. The money raised here, stays here. At the time of this writing the effort had brought in $1,585,477. Organizers hope to break the $2M mark by Sept. 20.

This photo is of one of those riders, my husband Robert Milligan, a two-time cancer survivor. Having tapped our friends and family many times over the years in such fundraising efforts, he knew this was too much money for many of them this time. Undaunted, Rob took a chance and asked the president where he works, the environmental consultancy CARDNO, to provide for his base requirement. This caring top-executive popped $1,500 into Rob’s on-line Obliteride account.

Still, our friends and family do what they can. The sweetest contribution came from our granddaughters (Zia two and a half, and Luella, just over one year old). They gave $30.

But let me tell you about another sweet contribution. While helping Rob with some technical difficulties at the Squak Mountain rest stop, a seasoned hiker came out of the trail into the parking lot with her two dogs. She asked me, “What’s going here?”

Finding all these strangers in her usually quiet mountain parking lot could have upset her; I couldn’t tell. Her tone had me a bit worried. But she allowed me to tell her all about the ride, the riders, their fund raising for Fred Hutch and about my husband who was waving good-bye to get back to his ride.

She said, “Hold this, please,” handing me one of her dog’s leashes. “Oh, and this one, too.” Then, while she fished her pocketbook out of her pack, she explained, “My father, mother and sister all died of cancer.” She fingered out of her wallet all that was in there: 10 bucks. “Add this to your husband’s donations. Say it’s from Rottweiler Lucy.” Her Rottweiler smiled up at me in full accord.

And there were many more. While Obliteride aims to raise $2 million, Rob is excited and hopes to break $2 thousand.

This ride had many delights, some by design, some by accident. Ride organizers honored survivors in many ways. One was to place “Survivor” signs along the route, with the rider’s name hand-written on them. When I arrived at the Issaquah High School rest stop (our rest stop), and our son later, to met up with Rob to cheer him on, we found the “Robert” sign made for him right at the entrance. It could have been anywhere along a 100-mile route, anywhere from Seattle to Renton, to Redmond to Bellevue – and back again, but it was at OUR high school, our stop.

These are just a few of my observations; Rob’s are always better. He relished meeting heroes along the way, many with far more impressive stories to tell than his. His struggles at 50, 70, 90 miles, were abated by a wash of gratitude he carried all along the ride. Gratitude for living an active life, for the care he received when sick. It’s well-known, but worth repeating: cancer (and other) survivors give thanks for their good fortune every day, never forgetting the threat that still looms.

It’s been 13 years since Rob’s last life-threatening cancer; he was only 27 with his first. Obliteride was his third cancer-fundraising, 100-mile bike riding challenge. Beat up and sore, he finished stronger and looks forward to the next one.

We would like to thank the supportive and patient car drivers along the Obliteride route. Thank you for helping these folks raise cancer research awareness and funds. Thank you to the jurisdictions that supported the ride: Issaquah, Sammamish, King County, etc. And thank you, Rottweiler Lucy. I hope I remembered your name and your sad lost family members correctly. If not, know that I remember you and your generosity.

Nina Milligan lives in Issaquah