PCF's Fundraising Community supporting the Prostate Cancer Foundation
PCF's Fundraising Community
John Thomas
I'm baaaack! After my near-death collision with a deer in May 2022 while I was cycling, I have recovered and I've been training for the 2023 version of the Tour Divide mountain bike race, which begins on June 9 and journeys from Canada to Mexico and crosses the Continental Divide 34 times. 2,700 miles and 200,000 feet of climbing. It's the ultimate physical challenge. My "race," which I'll take at a leisurely pace so that I can document the journey with my camera, GoPro, and drone, will be a race against my cancer. My prostate cancer currently appears at bay, though my blood levels of Prostate Specific Antigens (PSA) have occasionally flirted with a score that would indicate the my cancer may have metastasized. As UCLA's prostate cancer department reports, "Currently, no treatments can cure advanced/metastatic prostate cancer. However, there are effective ways to help slow its spread, prolong life, and control its symptoms, including immunotherapy, hormone therapy, chemotherapy, precision medicine, and clinical trials." I'll postpone tests and treatment until after my ride. This may be my last extreme physical challenge for some time. I promise that I will enjoy every moment of it, no matter how challenging. I'll be completing this journey to raise awareness of and funding for the treatment of prostate cancer.
John Thomas
I'm baaaack! After my near-death collision with a deer in May 2022 while I was cycling, I have recovered and I've been training for the 2023 version of the Tour Divide mountain bike race, which begins on June 9 and journeys from Canada to Mexico and crosses the Continental Divide 34 times. 2,700 miles and 200,000 feet of climbing. It's the ultimate physical challenge. My "race," which I'll take at a leisurely pace so that I can document the journey with my camera, GoPro, and drone, will be a race against my cancer. My prostate cancer currently appears at bay, though my blood levels of Prostate Specific Antigens (PSA) have occasionally flirted with a score that would indicate the my cancer may have metastasized. As UCLA's prostate cancer department reports, "Currently, no treatments can cure advanced/metastatic prostate cancer. However, there are effective ways to help slow its spread, prolong life, and control its symptoms, including immunotherapy, hormone therapy, chemotherapy, precision medicine, and clinical trials." I'll postpone tests and treatment until after my ride. This may be my last extreme physical challenge for some time. I promise that I will enjoy every moment of it, no matter how challenging. I'll be completing this journey to raise awareness of and funding for the treatment of prostate cancer.
1 in 8 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer. Let's fund the research to defeat it!
July 3, 2023 update:
The. Best. Thing. I. Have. Done. In. A. Very. Long. Time.
Riding the first 1,000 miles of the Tour Divide was fantastic in every conceivable way. I witnessed gorgeous landscapes and thrilling wildlife (including a close encounter with a grizzly bear). I was able to experience the existential life I needed at this point in my time on this planet, focusing on pedaling up yet another momentous climb over the Rocky Mountains and descending the treacherous dirt path on the other side, while feeling completely alive. I stopped along the trail when I grew weary and the sun began to set, pitched my tent, and snuggled into the glorious star-light sky.
I also met friends along the way—thank you, Marine, Linda, Jason, and Dan—and fascinating other people, both other cyclists and folks who live in the areas I traversed.
I’m also grateful that I chose to end my journey at 1,000 miles. I’ve work to complete and family and friends awaiting me at home. Certainly, I would have enjoyed another month of this vibrant existence. But with limited time and a limited attention span—after three weeks on the saddle of my bike all day, every day, I was beginning to get a bit bored—hopping off the bicycle after riding the dirt roads and paths from Banff, Canada to Grand Teton National Park was the proper choice.
Given my dance over the past 3 years with cancer, COVID, and ungrateful ungulates, I’ve never felt so lucky to be alive.
I’ve at least one more dance in my life, and I hope for more. In any event, please save the last dance for me.
I’m now nestled snugly in a cabin in the Grand Tetons in Wyoming, USA, with my beloved wife, Dorothy, by my side. As I type this morning on what will become my book about these experiences, this is my office.
As a friend recently said of me, I am the world’s luckiest unlucky person!
May 27, 2023 update:
The June 9 start date approaches! You can follow my journey here. My satellite communication device will post my location every 30 minutes.
2023 update:
Yes, I experienced a "modest detour" in May of 2022. But I'm back, fit, and training for the 2023 Tour Divide race.
May 2022 report:
A modest detour has materialized.
A few days ago, while cycling on a beautiful afternoon and testing my Tour Divide bicycle setup, I collided with a deer while coasting downhill at 30-35 mph. The result: on my right side, I broke a clavicle, an acromion (connects clavicle to shoulder), and 5 ribs. I broke 3 ribs on my left side. I punctured both lungs. (Fortunately, as best I know, the deer survived with fewer injuries than I!)
Given the force with which I hit the pavement (hard enough that slamming my right shoulder onto the road broke ribs and punctured the lung on my left side—plus all the bones between that shoulder and my left side), I’m feeling, as my orthopedic surgeon has suggested, lucky to be alive.
Surgery scheduled.
Battered but not broken (well, broken, but not broken too much), I’ll soon be back in the saddle training for the Tour Divide 2023.
Thank you for your support.
My tribute to my encounter with that deer. :)
