#WhyIPMC guest blog by Sue Hertz, 2-year Team Riverside Rockets rider
Riding the Pan-Mass Challenge for the first time feels a lot like being a college freshman. Overwhelmed by
thousands of cyclists congregating in one place, in one hotel, first-timers struggle to attach their bike tag properly, to find the food tent lined with tables of pasta and chicken, salad and cupcakes, to understand where they need to be when. In contrast, the veterans, the cool upperclassmen, walk assuredly through registration, the swag tables, the tattoo tables. They hug and high-five, share stories of the past year’s adventures as they balance plates of couscous and burgers.
The difference is that everyone is so nice.
The volunteers answering questions are nice. The volunteers dishing out tortellini are nice. During the 2-day 186-mile ride, the men and women, small kids and teens at multiple water stops are nice. Most impressive, all the riders are nice. I’m a New Englander; I’m not used to all that nice.
But used to it I became last August on my inaugural PMC ride. For years, I had donated to others' PMC fundraisers, but after losing my friend Janet Schofield to glioblastoma in September of 2023, I accepted the invitation to join the Riverside Rockets of Newburyport and work as a team to thwart cancer. Team or no team, however, the ride is an individual effort, and as I rolled my bike to the start in the predawn mist, the hot and humid air more Bayou than Bay State, in the Sturbridge hotel parking lot to begin our First Day journey, I gazed at the riders of all ages, size, and confidence, each of whom had been touched by cancer. Perhaps that accounted for all the niceness.
At the water stops, in the porta-potty lines, at the food booths, riders waited patiently, thanking the volunteers handing out peanut butter sandwiches, peanut buttered bananas, peanut buttered apples. Even on the road – at least for the most part – cyclists were conscious of others, alerting riders with “Passing on your left” and offering to help those in need of flat tire repair or hydration. Seasoned riders were especially nice to the newbies. Throughout the weekend, from Sturbridge to Provincetown, we were welcomed and encouraged as the veterans spied on our bikes and bodies the tags that blasted our names, hometowns, and FIRST TIME RIDER. Welcome, Sue! Thanks for riding, Sue! How’s it going, Sue?
Despite the heat, the sweat, the occasional irritation at the constant reminder that this was my first PMC, I felt
strong in the saddle and pedaled faster the 109 miles that first day than I average on shorter training rides on North Shore back roads. I can’t overstate the satisfaction of passing Millennials. The same held true for the 77 miles on Day 2, which was, blessedly, cooler and cloudier. Favorite stop on Sunday was at Nickerson State Park in Brewster for its Earth, Wind & Fire soundtrack and dance party vibe. Barnstable’s bagels and peaches in Barnstable were a close runner-up. Riders left each of the eight stops over the two days feeling appreciated, even treasured. “Thanks for riding,” we heard, again and again.
Most moving of all was the sentiment behind all the camaraderie. Everyone participating – riders, volunteers, community folks pouring Gatorade – had a cancer story. A narrative of someone they love, someone they know, perhaps themselves facing the disease. The signs people held along the way brought me to tears. “My daughter Michelle wouldn’t be here without you!” “Six-time survivor!” And the photos. Photos of cancer survivors on riders’ backs. On their bikes. On signs along the route. On one stretch – a hill – were posters of children battling cancer. Throughout the ride, I heard my friend Janet chirping in my ear that she, too, wanted her face posted for all to see.
I will ride again this year -- for another Janet, a childhood friend who was diagnosed last November with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. I met this Janet in seventh grade. She was the new kid, and new kids always get attention, but Janet’s arrival created a cicada-loud buzz. Maybe because she arrived at the end of the year and we needed a distraction. Or maybe because this lanky blonde with the dazzling smile and the laugh heard two classrooms away was fun. And smart. And kind. We were too young to recognize, though, that what drew us to her was her outlook, her mission to tuck away disappointment and lean into the positive. When her dad died from lung cancer within a year, she focused less on her grief and more on her mom. When her mom decided to move to be closer to family, Janet shouldered the upheaval without complaint. And when her mom remarried, sending Janet to yet another high school in another town, Janet forged ahead, creating lifelong friendships at every stop.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, then, that she accepted the grim diagnosis without self-pity. Instead, she marveled at the life she has built with her husband Tom and their three children in Seattle, how she’d like more time, but is determined to live every moment with purpose and joy. Chemo treatments are palliative, and in between she and Tom will travel, or adventure with their kids and their spouses, or ride their e-bikes around Lake Washington. She called me with her news from a Maui beach.
I dedicate my second Pan-Mass Challenge ride to Janet Walsh Jones, cancer warrior. And to the other warriors who refuse to buckle. To Bob, who thought his cancer was history and now, after two surgeries and countess chemo rounds, faces another surgery. To Todd, who continues to write and bike and cherish his friends and family as he deals with a return of chordoma. To Lucy, who refuses to allow Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma to interrupt her agenda. To Roger, who kicked his throat cancer to the curb, but is ever vigilant that life is precious. Anything could happen, he says. To Bruce, who was just launching a post-retirement Substack newsletter and enjoying a new grandchild when he learned of his early-stage pancreatic cancer. To Jeff, whose world was upended with a cancer diagnosis so complicated that he spent 15 weeks last fall shuttling between Mass General and Spaulding Rehab, returning home to navigate the world – including his CrossFit gym -- in a wheelchair. To all the women in my orbit who have waged war against breast cancer. I dedicate the 186-mile cycling journey from Sturbridge to Provincetown, MA, on Aug. 2 and 3, 2025, to their resilience and spirit. I will also pedal in memory of those we have lost, from Janet Schofield to Nancy Krasnow to Kerry Mahoney and Steve Holbrook. From Sheila McCarthy to Henry Longmire to Shirley Richardson and Chris Tomlinson. The list goes on and on.
