I started Crossing the Yarden long before cancer, and I intend to write it long after Stella has a complete recovery. So not every post will be about the Matsav. Of course, if you are wondering, Stella had a bit of a rough week from chemo but is now doing fine as we anticipate surgery on January 1.

Now then……

It had all the trappings of a classic cycling competition. Alberto Contador is the three time winner of the Tour de France, two time winner of the Tour of Italy (Giro), and one time winner of the Tour of Spain. I am the winner of a spring training race in Prospect Park, circa 1984 and five time participant in the Alyn Charity Ride (not a race — or so they have to tell me every year.) I am sure that Alberto has been nervously anticipating racing against me ever since Lance Armstrong retired.

Let me just say, I am a Chassid of Lance Armstrong and am in no way a fan of Alberto, who has dissed my hero on several occasions. But I will admit that Alberto is most likely the best cyclist in the world right now, and one of the best ever. I am extremely proud that he came to Israel with his whole team. Sure, Robert Kraft comes here a lot, but has he ever brought the entire New England Patriots team for a solid ten days of training? Nu?

Alberto rides for the Saxo Bank team, one of the top professional teams in the world. I am not exactly sure how it happened, but Saxo Bank decided to have their first training camp of the season here in Israel. While the other top teams are holding their camps in warm exotic places, Saxo Bank came to Israel and even spent time performing charity work.

When there are those in the world who shun Israel and refuse to travel here, Saxo Bank not only came but held a race through the Old City. Big props to the whole team. I am so impressed with them, that it will be very difficult for me to root against them in this year’s Tour (of course I must, because that’s what sports fans do. But still…..)

Last week I got an e-mail from Alyn saying they are looking for a group of riders to accompany Alberto, Mayor Nir Barkat, and the rest of the Saxo Bank team on a ride through the Old City Tuesday evening. As a cyclist, this was just too huge an opportunity to pass up. I figured I would ride alongside Alberto for a little while, tell him about riding in Israel, then let him eat my dust while staring at the back of my Livestrong helmet.

I drove to Talpiot, parked the car, and rode to the Jaffa Gate. My first sense that I had somehow missed something in the translation was when I saw the massive crowds behind police barricades leading up to the Old City. Then above the Jaffa Gate was a huge sign that said “Start of Bike Race.’ Hmm……

Then just inside, I saw a bunch of real serious looking dudes pinning numbers on and getting suited up. I recognized a few including Doron Amitz, former Israeli National Champion who is nice enough to swing by the Gush Etzion bike championship every year and show us the back of his head.

Now, wait a second. The e-mail said “ride,” right? Did I miss the word “race?” Or “race against some of the best cyclists in the world?” The e-mail (after going through Google Translate) read:

Next Tuesday, December 6, group participation event will take place Saxo Bank-SunGard her rider rider Alberto Contador leads Tour de Parnes in recent years. The event will take place in the plaza of Jaffa Gate at 16:30 and will include riding with Jerusalem Mayor Nir Barkat and Alberto Contador. In coordination with the municipality we can put together a group of 20 riders stuck to his head …

Not sure about the “stuck to his head” part, but didn’t see the word “race” anywhere either.

Then I noticed a large group of not-as-serious looking dudes off to the side, some wearing Alyn shirts. Ah-ha, better get over there.

I soon learned that there would be a ceremonial “ride” and then the “race” open to Saxo Bank and the best riders in Israel. That was fine, except I realized that by the size of the crowd, there was no way I would be able to get near Alberto. Of course, I don’t give up so easy.

I followed the press to a nearby area where a table had been set up for a press conference. That’s when I noticed a tent with portable heaters to keep the Saxo Bank riders warm before the race. And then, Alberto Contador himself walks by with a crush or journalists around him. He ducks into the tent to get away, and that’s when I made my move.

Realizing he was probably getting tired from answering all the questions from the journalists (“Why are you here in Israel?” “Do you like our country? “Did you try the steak?”), I came up on the inside, around to his right. I waited to find an opening when I had a clear path, and then I came up beside him and grabbed him with my left arm (in a friendly way, of course) while my right held the trusted iPhone.

“Hey Alberto!” I yelled and snapped the shot. With a fluid motion, I tucked the camera into my jersey and never looked back until I had put a good fifty meters on him.

Relishing my triumphant move, I went to find my bike, while he kept trying to break away from the journalistic peleton. I don’t know about official times, but I made it through the press conference much faster.

I got on the bike with a few hundred other folks who had NOT gotten a picture with El Pistelero (Alberto’s nickname.) Now I realized that while I was making my moves at the front of the peleton, everyone else had staked out a position waiting for the ride to start. By the time I got my bike to the start line, I was way at the back. (Alberto and the Saxo Bank riders were escorted to the front… because I guess they needed a bit of a head start.)

Then we were off. Riding a bike as fast as you can with a few hundred people through the winding, cobbled streets of the Old City is actually fairly dangerous. The only thing that makes it even less safe is some idiot trying to pass everyone. But hey, it’s what I do.

When we finished a lap and climbed back to the Jaffa Gate, I finally caught up to the Saxo Bank squad. But then…they shut down the course and requested that all of us who were not officially in the race, get out of the way so that the real race could start. The bottom line is that I tied with all of Saxo Bank in the only race we have ridden together. Not too shabby.

As far as the other race, you can read the details here.

Seriously, as an Israeli cyclist, it was amazing to be part of this event. And even more amazing to hear what one of the best riders in the world has to say about Israel:

“I’m extremely happy to be here in the first place. This first week of my stay here, I’ve experienced nothing but great support in a fascinating country. Both in Akko when we were doing the cycling school project and here in Jerusalem, people have been very supportive of us. It makes me proud being the first ever to win a criterium here in Jerusalem.”

All right. Alberto you got me. I have a new respect for you.

I guess I will have to root for you in the Tour de France this year….

…..To come in third….

Just can’t help myself.

After a week, there is about five days when she is “not 100%.” (Translation: She feels awful.) But then, she gets a bit over a week in which she feels really good. She walks the dog at dawn, cooks, works, and does almost everything she used to do before we were told “the news.”

So right now, in answer to all the questions, she is feeling good and trying to absorb some calories by eating melted Ben and Jerry’s. (Try finding that one in any of the “anti-cancer diet” books.)

Beautiful Wish from Beautiful Friends

For me, when she is feeling good, I am feeling good. That means that on days like today, I can feel “normal” by pursuing my admittedly “abnormal” activities.

It all started last year when I had a dilemna. I wanted to run with my club to get ready for the Tiveria Marathon at the same time I wanted to ride to get ready for Alyn Bike Ride. So I decided that since the running club normally started runs at dawn and the biking guys liked to sleep in, I would have time to do both. As long as I could squeeze enough calories in, there was no problem and I looked forward to the crazy Fridays all week.

After we got the “news,” I stopped all exercise for about 2 weeks. Then when I was getting a little crazy, I started doing short, fast 10k runs in the morning. But when Stella felt better, I decided (with her encouragement) to get back to my old Fridays. So once again today, we had a beautiful and hard run this morning, then two of us went to Kibbutz Be’eri to ride the nicest bike trail in Israel (IMHO.)

At almost any minute of the day or night, I am consumed with worry about Stella. I think about her when I wake, when I work, when I go to the Mokolet, etc. I know my worries cannot in any way help, but that’s just the way it is. No matter how normal you try and be, when your wife has cancer, nothing is normal. My time is not my own.

Except when I am running hard up a steep hill or biking down a windy, single track. At those times, my mind clears and all I am focused on is the trail ahead. And so for a few brief (o.k., not always so brief) moments, I get to feel like my old crazy self again.

Thanks for all the good thoughts, prayers, jokes, e-mails, etc.

Happy Trails.

BTW — Please read this post from Romi. I was going to write one about the evening but she did it so well.

THANK YOU WHOMEVER YOU ARE!

Yarden & Stella

We tried to guess the factors that would determine whether the climb was feasible: The angle of the grade, the condition of the trail surface, the amount of loose rock, etc. As we got closer, everyone stopped talking and began thinking about how much they were willing to suffer to go up without stopping.

This was Day Three of the five day annual bike ride to raise money for the Alyn Children’s hospital in Jerusalem. Obviously, in the larger view it did not matter if anyone was able to ride all the way up this one hill or not. What really mattered is that the ride, with its hundreds of participants, had already raised more money than ever for Alyn. So while we were having fun pretending to be Lance Armstrong, children at Alyn were receiving the advanced treatments that could only be paid for through the money raised from the ride.

One evening we heard the story of a child who was hit by shrapnel from a mortar fired from Gaza. His injuries were so extreme, that other hospitals had already said there was nothing they could do. Then Alyn stepped in and because they cared and had the resources to make a difference, they went to work on this child. Because of Alyn, this young man was there to greet us himself. For a child to go through years of therapy just to learn to walk and talk again takes far more courage than riding a bike up any hill.

Then there is my Mom. As I wrote in my last post, I dedicated my ride to her this year. She is climbing her own steep hill called cancer and must find the courage to keep going when she faces months of horrible chemo treatments. For those who have been following her story, I am happy to say that at the moment she has had a series of “good” days and will resume chemo next week. So, with hundreds of children and my Mom to think of, you better believe that I was going to ride like I have never ridden before.

This year, the smart folks at Alyn made a section of the ride a bit tricky for us folks who plead for harder rides each year. One day we rode through the desert up and down some of the most technical terrain I have ridden. The last few kilometers that day were through a dry river bed where the surface was composed of very lose gravel that made it seem like you were riding through glue.

We then arrived at our accommodations: a tent campsite deep in the heart of the Negev. I had a fun time taking a “shower” while sitting under a tap set up for hand washing. The closest we were to civilization was a few hours jeep ride away. In fact, there was only one man made thing anywhere near our campsite. It was railroad tracks for trains carrying minerals from the desert mines to the coast. By the way, if you ever happen to be near Chava Wadi campsite in the Negev, the train comes through around 4:27 in the morning. You really don’t need to set an alarm. Just don’t be alarmed when you feel the ground start to shake.

Next morning we were up bright and early (easy to do when you are sitting in the middle of the desert) and rode a fast twenty kilometers to join up with those who had felt the need for real beds at night. While we were waiting, a few of us decided to jump in an ice cold spring nearby and get some relief from the desert heat. Not only did it provide a refreshing break from the sun, but riding with wet biking shorts can keep you nice and cool for awhile in the desert.

This was my fifth Alyn Ride and it was by far the best. Part of what made it so great was the trails. But the other part was riding with some of the same people you see every year. Of course, we had five riders from Neve Daniel participating which has to be a record from a yishuv our size. But besides the guys I ride with all the time, there were the other people I see once a year.

My friend Bob has a daughter my age, a bike older than my son, and still can ride with the best. We both started Alyn five years ago and received our yellow jackets (given to those who complete five Alyn rides) together this year. Bob took a couple hard falls that got us all concerned this year. But this guy is indestructible. No matter what happened, he kept coming back. As long as Bob is riding, none of us “kids” can complain that the ride is just too hard.

Unlike last year when storms caused the cancellation of a whole day’s riding, the weather was incredible this year. Yes, it did get a bit hot on the last day. With temperatures going over 90 around the Mata Spring, the organizers decided to cancel the last twenty kilometers which were to have included two serious climbs and a bit of rough riding. So buses were ordered up to transport the riders to the finish at the hospital.  However, it seemed that a pair of riders disagreed with this decision and set off on their own to ride the final 20  kilometers. What a couple of lunatics!

But I think for me, the whole ride could be summed up in those few minutes as we approached the climb in the middle of the Negev. Yes, it can be easy to give up and play it safe by getting off and walking. Many riders did. It may also seem like the right thing to do when you feel your heart beating like crazy and every meter you go up, you slip back a bit on the loose gravel. Yet sometimes, you need to turn off the brain and push yourself like crazy. Then you will be astounded with what you can accomplish.

So what do you think, did I make it up the hill?

The jacket is on the way Mom. I hope it helps.

Same legs, different bike

Tomorrow morning I will set off for the fifth year in a row on the Alyn Hospital Charity Bike Ride. The Alyn ride is a 5 day ride through some of the most spectacular areas in Israel. Each rider must raise a minimum of $2,000 in donations to the Alyn Children’s hospital to enter. While you are in the saddle, you can’t help but think of the children of Alyn on whose behalf you are riding. These are children who have been severely injured in car accidents, terrorism, or suffer from terrible disease. The concept of Alyn is to make a bike ride just hard enough so that you have a tiny notion of how hard every day tasks are for the kids of Alyn. Just as you feel the triumph of completing a tough physical challenge, you can understand a little how these kids keep pushing themselves to get better.

Yet this year, I am not just riding for the kids of Alyn. While my legs and lungs will be in the Judean Desert, my heart will be in California.

Mom this Summer at Bryce Canyon

It was the day after Rosh Hashana that I got the e-mail from my mother. She needed an operation and quickly because blood tests had shown a dangerous change that could be attributed to several factors. For me, the only real downside of Aliyah is how far you end up from your family. But when there is a need, thank G-d we can always hop on a plane and be on the other side of the globe in 24 hours. So I ended up spending the holidays with my parents in California. The operation was a complete success. We were all very relieved.

Unfortunately, after the operation came the diagnosis that my mom has cancer.

My Mom has Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Now a number of people told me how this was very lucky since this is a very “treatable” cancer. The problem is that talking about a very “treatable” cancer is like referring to that “very polite” Nazi who is sitting in your living room. He may not burn down your house, but he’s still a Nazi. Sorry, but we just don’t feel so “lucky.”

Cancer means chemo, and chemo sounds like a horrible nightmare. My Mom has only been through the first of eight treatments and yet has already suffered from a host of horrible ailments oddly enough caused not by the cancer but by the drugs that are treating the cancer. Yes, the medicine to make you better does a real number on the rest of your body.  So while it is a good thing that the Allies have found the “polite” Nazi and are trying to kill him, the shoot-out is destroying your living room.

It’s not that I have never experienced physically suffering. I have done more than a few long distance runs and bike rides where all I wanted to do by the end was crawl under the nearest rock. Yet my suffering was all my choice. And from the sounds of things, my adventures are nothing like going through a single session of chemo. I would rather run until my toes fell off one by one than go through chemo.

But my Mom is tough. I have no doubt that she will get through the chemo and finish cancer free with her arms raised triumphantly like Lance Armstrong. She is not going to let this cancer beat her. While she has good days and bad days, she is looking forward to the end of this whole process where she can enjoy life again.

So this week, whenever the hills get steep and the trail seems to go on forever, instead of complaining I will try and keep my Mom in mind and realize how fortunate I am to pick and choose when and how I suffer. She is much tougher than me. I can always get off the bike and rest.

They give you a yellow jacket when you complete your fifth Alyn Ride. The jacket is not just an appreciation for the years spent raising thousands of dollars for the children of Alyn. The jacket represents the great physical accomplishment of riding twenty-five days through some of the hardest biking terrain in Israel. It represents thousands of kilometers that you have trained for the rides. It is a reward for the days when you rode even though it was freezing cold or boiling hot. It is something that you can keep long after you have washed the mud and grime away.

But as proud as I am to have earned this jacket, I’m not keeping it. No, I am going to give the yellow jacket to a certain person who is bravely riding her own ride right now. And while that ride may be extremely difficult, the finish line will be oh so sweet.

Mom, you are in my thoughts every day. I know you can get through this. Enjoy the jacket.

Live Strong.

Why on Earth should one’s hobby make one miserable. As I tried to clean the mud out of my nose later that night, I felt comfortable that after riding Alyn for four years and raising over ten thousand dollars for the children’s hospital, I had done my share. Let someone else take over.

Of course, by the time the ride ended, I realized how important the funds we raised for the hospital are. These funds enable children to continue to receive the wonderful care that Alyn has to offer. Hmm…maybe my preference to stay warm and dry was just a bit selfish when compared with the needs of the Alyn kids.

Then I thought about how many people have heard of the Alyn ride,  and how proud I have been to mention that I had ridden four years in a row. How would I feel explaining to someone that this year I skipped the ride because I was afraid of getting a little dirty.

I could just imagine someone in the Alyn office saying “well, let’s skip the therepy sessions for little Moshe this year. Frankl decided to stay home and watch TV.”

Couldn’t have that.

No, that just wouldn’t do.

So yes, I am signed up for #5 and ready to tackle the new enduro route. The enduro route is for us gluttons for punishment who are not satisfied with the length of the traditional off-road route. Since the ride is in the South this year, I don’t have to worry about the cold and the rain. Intense heat, on the other hand, is fairly typical for the middle of the desert.

So I am in the midst of training again and looking forward to doing my share to help Alyn continue putting together the lives of young bodies shattered by car accidents, deadly diseases, and a variety of other nightmares that all parents pray their children will never have to face.

But unlike those who choose to suffer for a week by riding their bikes, these kids have no choices. Some are learning to walk again, to eat, to speak, to live.

And here is where you come in. Because no matter how many hours I spend on the bike or what the weather is, I cannot be successful without raising the funds for Alyn that are at the core of this magnificent event. So I will give a little physical suffering if you will give a little financial. Believe me — I would not be asking if I was not 200 percent convinced that the money collected is literally saving children’s lives.

So please click here to make a donation and  help me support the children of Alyn.

I know he does not quit, so how could I?

With my deep appreciation for any amount you can manage.

Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

My ride number

I just spent a week riding through mud.

Not the kind of nice warm Dead Sea mud that tourists buy. I’m talking about freezing cold mud. It gets on your arms, your legs, in your nose, and between your teeth. Every day after the ride you take a shower wearing your riding gear to try and get some of it off. But it’s just not possible.

The mud gets on your bike chain and in your gears. It gets in your brakes and clogs your pedals. Your bike weighs a ton no matter how often you try and clean some muck off.

What an amazing week.

I'm shivering!

But let me go back a bit. For the fourth year in a row I was riding in the Alyn 5 day bike ride to raise money for the Alyn Children’s Hospital in Jerusalem. I was joined by fellow Team Neve Daniel members Pinney and Lawrence.

Also along with us was our friend Bob, who we like so darn much we just put him on the team. He has a daughter my age, and he can still hang with the best riders in the pack. Also honorary team member Yael from Kfar Meiman, showing us that girls can ride crazy too.

This year, the ride would spend four days on the Golan Heights and one day riding from Modi’in to Jerusalem. Except when it rains, the Golan is an ideal place to ride a mountain bike since the views are spectacular and the Heights are full of amazing bike trails.

Like I said, except when it rains.

It rained.

It flooded.

The Golan turned to mud.

Team Neve Daniel at the Start: Dry and Happy

We started the ride on Sunday in Rosh Pina. Within the first hour, I knew it was going to be a tough year. Riding fast down a winding trail, another rider swerved to the right to avoid a big rock. There was just one problem — I was on his right side.

Down I went and when I got up I found I had a gashed leg and a bent derailleur (the thing that changes gears.)  As I was contemplating what that would mean for the next five days, the skies opened up and dropped what felt like a lake on us. The rain was so thick, you could hardly see where you were going. Then it started to get cold. Yael reminded me of the article I wrote before the ride about how we should just accept the inevitable and embrace the rain.

I told her to shut up.

We rode on road for a bit up a very steep climb and then turned onto the first segment of the North-South Golan trail. Here was my first experience of real mud riding.  For what seemed to be hours, we road through the mud. The key is that you must keep moving, no matter how slowly. If you stop and put a foot down, it will become almost impossible to start again.

Team Neve Daniel after the Mud

After the mud came puddles. Big puddles. These were not the type of puddles that kids like to jump up and down in. These were long stretches of the trail where water went from one side to the other and you had no choice but to ride through. At some point your bike could sink up to the hubs and you wondered if you were about to take an ice bath. (Lots of riders did). Every time you peddled your foot went through icy water. (Every morning I dreaded lacing up the cold wet shoes.)

To be perfectly honest I was not pleased with my performance. I felt tired and miserable and had a million reasons why I did not want to continue riding. My leg hurt, the bike couldn’t stay in gear, and the forecast was not gloomy — it was catastrophic.

Yet the next day, I decided I would have a better attitude. I put on all my rain gear, looked in the mirror, and gave myself a little pep talk. I was actually pumped up when I left the room and headed for the staging area.

That was when word came down the line that something had happened that has never happened before in the Alyn Ride’s ten-year history. The whole day’s ride was canceled. Due to massive flooding and extreme winds, the powers that be decided it would be too dangerous to ride. What followed was a rather dull day. As we ate dinner in the youth hostel and watched water leaking from the ceiling, no one was very upbeat.

A backpack gave my mud jacket an interesting look

It rained through the night and into the next day. Yet, the decision was made to ride. The route was changed so that the only off road segments became optional. But the route would still be a challenge.

We started with a 24 kilometer climb up the slopes of Mount Hermon to the Beduin village of Masade. The climb was fantastic although the fog was so thick that you couldn’t see anything but a patch of road in front of you. Along the way up I found the rider who had knocked me off on Sunday. We exchanged some pleasantries which gave me the added incentive to ride hard and leave him in the dust rain. (He did apologize in the end, and I did NOT knock him into the ditch at the side of the road.)

The real problem was that when we got up to the top, the temperature dropped and the winds picked up. I changed into the last dry shirt I had and still froze. Coming down the winds pushed us across the road. There was nothing to do but put your head down and pedal. Around this time I again started wondering if it was worth it. Actually, I felt miserable and decided it wasn’t. I decided that I would finish the ride but no way would I ever sign up for this hell again.

Later in the day we had a few off road bits including a dangerous descent which put my good friend Simcha into an ambulance and out of the ride. I didn’t see Simcha’s fall, but another guy in front of me lost the traction on his bike wheel and went skidding down into the ground. He yelled that he was o.k. so I kept going – gripping the bars, saying a prayer, and looking forward to getting to the bottom.

At the bottom were several kilometers through what were basically a few flooded fields with mushy patches of mud to ride on. The riders were so spread out that I could scream like a banshee all sorts of colorful words. I was in my own little world. My own freezing, wet little world.

Then an interesting thing happened. We came out on the road and all of a sudden I felt a surge of energy. I hammered down on the pedals and felt myself flying. Kilometer after kilometer just clicked by. I no longer felt the cold. When I reached Keshet, the end of the day’s ride, I felt exhilarated but completely spent. By  5:30 I was sound asleep. (Thankfully I woke up for dinner.)

Boomer and Pinney's bike: Our trusted steeds

The next day was more mud and more climbs including a 2 kilometer haul over a 15% grade. Yet the sun came out and that made everything much better. I even fell into one of the mud lakes, but I didn’t freeze to death. I joked about it and let the sun dry me off. We rode down one final descent to the Kinneret and all of a sudden there was just one more day of Alyn.

Of course today was more like Alyn rides I have done before. Tons of climbing going from Modi’in up to Alyn in Jerusalem, but it was warm and we knew the end of the ride was coming, so everything felt great.

We finished by charging up the hill from Ein Karem to Alyn and got to ride past all the cheering people who had come to see us finish. We got mobbed by our families and high- fived each other like we had just won the Tour de France.

Even better, there to greet us were all the children being treated at Alyn. A young child in a wheelchair put a medal around my neck and his smile said it all. Now I felt guilty for ever having such negative thoughts. What the hell is a little mud compared to what we were really there for?

I will leave you with one example of why this ride is important. There is a little boy who lives in a town near Sderot. During the Gaza war, his leg was blown off by a Palestinian rocket (HELLO JUDGE GOLDSTONE?? YOU HOME??? — Sorry).

Anyway, after he was stabilized, he was fitted with a prosthetic leg. Yet learning to walk with an artificial leg is not easy, especially for a child. At first, walking is very painful. But that is exactly what you need to do for your body to get used to the leg. This boy would just not walk — it was too painful.

So at Alyn, instead of medicine, they gave him….  a rabbit. His job was to try and walk after the rabbit. Now it was no longer painful therapy – it was a game. And that is how this boy is learning to walk again. That’s Alyn for you. This kind of therapy is not covered by health insurance – it is covered by Alyn Ride insurance.

So if a boy can forget the pain and learn to walk even when it hurts him,  I guess a bike rider can forget about a  little mud and cold and just enjoy learning what he is capable of doing.

Kol HaKavod to Alyn for staging another great ride under very trying circumstances and thank you to each and every one my sponsors for making this week possible.

Next year?

Not even a question.

I’ll be there.

How about you?

Team Neve Daniel has trained as much as we can and raised the money for our sponsorships for Alyn. For everyone who sponsored us, thank you.

The weather report for the next week is grim. The Golan is expected to be cold, rainy, and muddy. Now anyone who seriously rides a bike has gotten caught in the rain more than once. A cold rain can make a ride quite difficult and uncomfortable. Basically, when it starts to come down and the trails turn to mud, there are only two ways to look at the situation:The first is to curse and shiver. We have all been there when all of a sudden the fun ride becomes like a scene from the Titanic. You feel wet from head to toe. Even if you are lucky enough to be wearing foul weather gear, cold water has a way of getting to your skin and cozying up. First you try and ride around puddles, then at some point they become big enough that you have no choice. You plunge straight through, and your body and bike end up wearing a suit of mud.

The other way to react is to accept the weather and embrace it. Know that there is nothing you can do so you might as well enjoy the fact that you are out riding a bike and see how big a splash you can make. You can’t stop the rain but wearing a smile can be even better than wearing Goretex.

But no matter how you react, the simple fact remains is that unlike your physical shape, weather is the thing you can do nothing about. I am sure there will be times in the next few days that it might seem preferable to be in a warm house with a cup of tea and a good book. But then again, this is the Alyn ride. The Alyn ride is about pushing yourself, not staying home with the cup of tea.

While a week of riding in the rain and mud might be challenging – it is absolutely nothing compared to a little girl learning to walk again. In fact, almost any child at Alyn would give anything to trade places with an Alyn rider for the week. I know that because for four years I have met many of the Alyn children after the ride and their expressions say it all. When you can’t even walk on your own, the prospect of riding a bike – in any weather – is just a dream.

So off we go on the next adventure. If the money that we have raised helps some of the Alyn children get the help they need to stop being medical patients and return to being kids, then there is no amount of rain than can make it a “bad ride.”

I hope you have a great week – rain or shine I know I will.

Let’s roll.

Chaya Bailey Bat Kelev

Last week, my family had a bit of a crisis. Our beloved dog Bailey swallowed something that was never meant to be swallowed, and it tore up her belly and intestines.

She spent a week and a half in the vet clinic in Maale Adumim where she underwent two major operations. At one point, the vet told us that the odds were heavily against her making it home.

Those who are not pet owners are forgiven for not comprehending how torn apart a family can be when a pet is near death’s door. All of us went to bed on Rosh Hashana crying, wondering if we would see our Bailey again.

Yet, despite how this episode has affected me and my family, I know that at the end of the day a dog — no matter how loved — is a dog and not a child. I do not know how on Earth parents get through it when they have a child at death’s door.

But the sad reality is that it happens, it happens far too often. Children are hurt badly in car accidents and terrorist attacks. They may survive but take years to fully heal. A child that goes to bed with a hug and kiss can wake up with cancer. The thought is terrifying, yet we all know people who have seen their world shattered in an instant by something happening to their child.

Team Neve Daniel raised over $10k last year

For the past three years I have participated in a five-day bike ride that raises money for this hospital. Every year, I take a tour of the hospital to remind myself why I do it.

Seeing the children receiving treatment always makes me smile, but seeing the parents anxiously waiting to see if their kids will be all right brings tears to my eyes. As Lance would say, “Sometimes, it’s not about the bike.”

I pray that the only involvement I ever have with a children’s hospital is to raise money for it by riding my bike. But I am glad to know that should G-d forbid I ever receive “the phone call,” there is a place here in Israel that simply does not give up on children — no matter how severe their injuries or disabilities.

Both individually and as a leader of a team of riders, I have been able to raise tens of thousands of dollars for this remarkable institution. And I intend to continue doing so as long as I can stay on my bike.

This is where you come in. Please sponsor my ride this year by clicking on the button in the right top corner of my website or just click straight to the Alyn site. Any donation helps from $1 and up.

Come on, let's ride

I know it seems odd to be planning to ride a five-day ride right after getting a concussion because I can’t stay on my bike. I accept that I am a bit nuts. But at least I’m nuts for a good cause.

May all of us — parents, kids, and even dogs — have a wonderful year.

Yarden

By the way, I brought Bailey home last night.

Yet as moving as riding in Israel is, once a year to ride a bicycle takes on another dimension. About ten years ago, some genius thought that he could use a bike ride to raise desperately needed money for a children’s hospital in Jerusalem. Apparently, many people agreed with him and the Alyn Hospital “Wheels of Love” ride began.

For the last two years, I have joined about 500 other riders for this week-long ride throughout Israel. One year, we rode from Jerusalem to Eilat traversing the Judean and Negev deserts. Last year, we started in Tiveria and finished at the Alyn hospital in Jerusalem. Riding into the cheering crowd of children being treated by Alyn and their families brought all of us to tears. This is really a lot more than a bike ride.

It is a terrible fact of life that sometimes children get seriously hurt or sick. Next time you feel like complaining about some mild malady, look at a picture of a ten year old suffering from cerebral palsy who wonders if he will have an eleventh birthday. How about the pretty seven year old who had a brain hemorrhage in the middle of the night. She wants to know if she will ever be well enough to go to school with her friends. Can we even look at the three year old whose legs were amputated after he was hit by a car and remember our own complaints?

Yes, a visit to Alyn can be very disturbing.

Yet it can also be one of the most uplifting moments you will experience. Because in this hospital, the boy with cerebral palsy is smiling because the therapy he receives is working. The girl who suffered the brain hemorrhage is learning how to eat by herself with a fork and knife. The three year old now has two tiny prosthetic legs and is riding around the halls of Alyn on a special scooter.

I have found the Alyn ride to be an intensely physical challenge. Yet I know that it is really not that bad. After all, it is a challenge that I eagerly embrace every year. No one wants to get sick or be hit by a car.

There are few things that I am as proud of doing in my life as having raised about $10,000 for the Alyn children over the past two years. This year, I am leading a team of riders from Neve Daniel. Together we need to raise $8,000. Please help me ride again this year by giving a donation to Alyn. All you need to do is go to the website http://www.alynus.org/SPONSORRIDER/US and click on “sponsor a rider.” Choose your donation amount and put my name in as the sponsored rider.

You will receive an e-mail from Alyn thanking you and one from me too. But the best thanks you will have is knowing that you really did help a child who has nowhere else to turn.

Come on, ride with me. You won’t regret it.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

For five days, over 500 riders rode through the north of Israel gradually making our way towards the hospital in Jerusalem. Every time we thought the hardest part was over, we rounded the corner into even greater challenges. We would climb into the sun and then descend at incredible speeds over rocky footpaths. We rode on pavement, gravel, rocks, and mud. When the terrain flattened out, we shifted to the big gears and rode like the wind. When we finished for the day, we were covered in dust and sweat. At night, we would shower, eat three or four dinners, and crawl into bed. The next day we woke at 5:00 A.M., ready to do it again.

So now that I am home and starting to feel my legs and other parts of my body, I try to figure out just why the heck I loved it so much. I could say that it is all for the hospital, but you know what? I have seen many institutions that run on donations and nothing is as moving as this place. You see kids struggling to walk again. You see parents who receive a short phone call about a car accident and now practically live in the waiting room. You see doctors, therapists, and even medical clowns trying to get kids who thought their lives were over to smile again. We all should donate and raise money to help these kids, even if we don’t know how to ride a bike.

2007-11-08bThere is an old midrash that says “Without pain, there is no gain.” (O.K., if it’s not from a midrash then it’s from a Nike commercial, but you get the point.) All of us take on things that are challenging because of some vague hope that the result of our effort will be worth far more than the struggle we put ourselves through. It’s part of our nature as human beings to want to see just what we are capable of.

One day as we were resting our aching bodies and wolfing down chicken, one of the representatives from Alyn showed us pictures of some of the kids who were in the hospital. They had been injured in road accidents, terrorism, or suffered from muscular disease. For many of them, the challenge of learning how to walk is an even greater challenge than the one we all faced riding.

I was born forty years ago. For a while it has been difficult for me to admit that age was gaining on me. But you know what? I was faster than many riders younger than me and slower than some who were older. A guy who I rode with most of the way has a daughter who is forty. “You just can’t ride a bike at forty as fast as you can at eighteen.” Who says that?

We can do whatever we set our minds on. Every day we can find a new challenge. And we shouldn’t be turned away because the task appears too difficult. Because whatever hill you decide to climb, the harder the effort to get to the top, the more spectacular the view.

Will I do the ride again next year?

It’s not even a question. The only question is… will you ride with me?

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

Wheel of Love

I am writing on Friday right before Shabbat. Tomorrow night I leave for Tiberia to join the Alyn Charity Bike ride. About 500 men and women will be riding bikes from the North of Israel to Jerusalem. One week with nothing to do but ride. Talk about the ultimate vacation.

As much fun as these rides are, I have to remind myself why we are doing it. After all, the fact that 500 people get a break from work, family, and e-mail is nice, but it is only really significant for those of us who are riding. Of far greater significance are the kids at the Alyn hospital who are the beneficiaries of about $3,000,000 that we will raise from this ride.

Let’s face it, life is really, really hard if your child needs to stay in a hospital. The kids there are not ones with little scratches, these are kids who need attention around the clock. They will never be the same as before they came.

Most hospitals send family home at night. Not Alyn. Not only can parents stay there (in beds – not cots – round the clock, the waiting room has a refrigerator and showers. They even have a neat play area for the brothers and sisters of the patients who might be a bit nervous to visit a hospital.

As amazing as the facility is, the kids there are even more so. I met someone who has a severe muscular condition. He has no control over almost his entire body. He has a computer which he operates by using a stick manipulated by his mouth. Despite this challenge, he apparently set up a computer supply business on the Internet and is running it out of his room at Alyn. The guy who lives next door to him paints pictures. He paints by using a brush held in his mouth. Despite their serious conditions, they are not forced to wear the standard issue hospital robes which have that lovely habit of flapping open in the back. They can dress like anyone else. Yes, their rooms have medical equipment in them, but they also have posters and paintings and whatever personal touches they want.

Hey world, how about this story. While Israel was going after Islamic Jihad terrorists, a family was in the wrong place at the wrong time. An Israeli missile that killed an arch-terrorist also killed all the members of a Gazan family except for a father, son, and daughter. Go ahead and blame us if you want, but we all know that if the Jihadists stopped their Jihad, there would be fewer tragedies like this. Knowing that the terrorists’ goal is to kill Israeli children like my own, I can’t really say that we made a mistake. Yet the suffering of this innocent family is still a tragedy.

Anyway, this little girl, whose name is Maria, was so badly injured that she was taken from Gaza to Alyn. Her father, Hamdi, accompanied her, and he has never left her side. The government of Israel paid for her treatment for a year and then told the hospital to send her back. The only hitch is that in Gaza she would be dead within twenty-four hours. You see, our “peace partners” tend to spend all their cash on bullets and rockets instead of healthcare. So the director of the hospital told the government to stuff it, and Maria continues to receive treatment at Alyn. I wish her father could wheel Maria to Annapolis and ask the “peace conference” delegates to again explain how Israel is an Apartheid state. How much does the Palestinian Authority pay for the treatment of Jews injured by acts of terrorism?

I have found many special places in Israel. Some are special because of their spiritual importance. Some have a fascinating history. Still others are unbelievably beautiful. But some places here are special because of what we accomplish. The Alyn Children’s Hospital is just such a place.

And that’s why I am on vacation next week.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

Some have told us that making Aliyah, or living in the “West Bank” is an act of courage. But no, while there are many positive ways to describe life here, I am reserving the word “courage.”

If you read the quotations from virtually any Palestinian leader, you will hear them use the word “courage” over and over again to describe valiant warriors who shoot rockets and bullets at children. But their use of the term is obscene.

In the packets of materials that Alyn gives out to the riders is a letter from a young boy named Raz. He writes:

“On May 10th 2002, my family and I were in a terrible road crash. My older sister, Eden, was killed. The doctors said that if I lived, I would be a ‘vegetable.’ When I regained consciousness, mummy told me what had happened and said ‘If you want to go on living, you will have to work very hard.’ The next day I moved a finger….” That’s courage.

Tzur was a ten year old boy talented in math, flute and gymnastics. One day he was out with his father and some friends when he was shot in the head by terrorists from a passing car. He has received all kinds of treatments at Alyn including “animal” therapy and even “humor” therapy with Alyn’s resident magician. On my tour, they told me that sometimes kids are so terrified after trauma, that they simply will not respond to any type of traditional stimulus. Alyn does everything possible to find some way of bringing these children back. Now Tzur is making great progress. In fact, the headline in the story about Tzur from Alyn was “Terror Victim Smiles Again.” That’s courage.

Alyn also gives you a picture of a child being treated at the hospital that all riders are asked to affix to their bikes. These pictures were put together by a girl named Sara. Sara was also severely injured in a car accident. She was brought to Alyn, unable to walk or speak. It was not easy for Sara to help put 485 pictures together, but she wanted to thank Alyn for helping her. That’s courage.

Remember how much of the world’s press blamed Israel for a “disproportionate” reaction to the Hizbollah rocket attacks? They implied that these rockets were really not that dangerous. Well, along with hundreds of thousands of Israelis who had to stay in bomb shelters for a month was a certain severely handicapped child. He needs daily therapy as well as special equipment. Needless to say, while bomb shelters generally provide protection, this boy was in great danger in the shelter. Alyn took him in where he stayed until the cease-fire.

You want courage? I give you the children of Alyn. Every day. And even more, it is the staff at Alyn that show courage. How can anyone face day after day, young kids who instead of being outside playing ball are trying to relearn how to hold a fork and knife by themselves? Every day, these miracle workers greet the children with big smiles and then sit down and try to figure out how they can help patch them back together so that these children regain some part of their childhood.

Now that, my friends, is courage.

If you would like to make a donation to Alyn, please go to the website http://www.alynride.org/alyn/onlineDonations.php.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.