Tour de Cure 2025
Tour de Cure: Year Four
For the fourth year running, I clipped in for the Tour de Cure, riding to support the American Diabetes Association—a cause that hits close to home. Living with type 2 diabetes myself, and having family members affected by this relentless disease, this ride isn’t just another event on my calendar. It’s one of the most meaningful fundraisers I do all year.
This time, I didn’t ride solo. I rallied a team through Cascade Bicycle Club, and together we showed up with purpose—and a little flair. The ADA welcomed us with open arms, setting up a dedicated canopy complete with tables, chairs, swag, and even a banner with our team name. It felt personal. It felt like we belonged.
One of my teammates brought donuts, which made the pre-ride vibe feel more like a cozy coffee shop than a starting line. We sipped coffee, swapped stories, and fueled up. Most of us were tackling the 50-mile route, but one teammate opted for the 10-mile ride—just in case her MS flared up. I met her last fall at Bike MS, and we clicked instantly. She rides a sleek recumbent bike that always turns heads.
Now, about that route… I’m not sure what the ADA’s route planner was thinking, but they threw in some brutal hills—steep enough to force a few walk breaks—and a maze-like path to reach the I-90 bridge. It felt more like a scavenger hunt than a bike ride.
I was riding my new Velotric, which has gears (thank goodness), but its motor isn’t quite as punchy as my old Rad Mission. Those hills? They made me earn every mile.
By the time I reached Mercer Island, I was running on fumes. Instead of doing the full loop, I made a tactical decision to cut across the island and shave off a few miles. No regrets.
Later, while taking a quick pee break along Lake Washington Blvd., one of my teammates rolled up just as I was finishing. He looked genuinely confused—how had I gotten ahead of him? I teased him, claiming I was so fast he must’ve missed me flying past on the island. Eventually, I fessed up to my shortcut. We both laughed.
As I neared the finish line, I heard drums and cheering. My heart lifted—had the ADA gone all out with a marching band and cheerleaders to celebrate our big finish? Turns out, not quite. The noise was coming from a protest against our orange-headed excuse for a president. Amusing? Yes. Slightly disappointing? Also yes.
