Atlanta’s Bethany Diamond is a fitness instructor who puts her health before everything but her family. She felt especially helpless when she lost her best friend, Debbie Flamm, to ovarian cancer...
Cobb County's Bethany Diamond is a fitness instructor who puts her health before everything but her family. She felt especially helpless when she lost her best friend, Debbie Flamm, to ovarian cancer. To give Debbie’s death more meaning, she organized a sports fundraiser in 2004. Now, each spring, people from all over Atlanta join a six-week training program that culminates in a 100-mile indoor bicycle ride. The purpose: to get into shape and raise funds to fight ovarian cancer.
So far, Ovarian Cycle has donated more than $360,000 to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund (in New York) and the Ovarian Cancer Institute (at Georgia Tech).
To dramatize the excitement and frustration of spinning hour after hour, with a sore butt and exhausted calves, Bethany has written a description of her experience:
The fourth hour is the hardest. My legs are tired and all the adrenaline from hours 1-2 is gone. It truly is gut-check time. At that point, I must go to the place that motivates me to keep pedaling. Inside, while riding the “Ovarian Cycle: Ride to Change the Future,” there are excellent instructors who motivate you with their words and music to keep the pedals turning. Even then, the fourth hour becomes strained.
I have to dig deep and find the reason why I do this year after year. Riding this indoor bike is easier than being outside with all the distractions of cars and scenery and other cyclists.
One look at the empty bike at the front of the room and I’m immediately reminded why I’m here. That bike is kept empty in memory of all the women and men who would ride if only they could. I think of my friend, Debbie Flamm, who inspired this organization. She loved to exercise, to feel good and maintain her health. She would be riding, but she can’t. In December, 2003, she lost her battle with ovarian cancer at the tender age of 43.
As I turn the wheels of my bike, I recall other women whom I’ve met over the years as well as their husbands and children who rode for them because they could not. The strain of the chemotherapy kept them off the bikes. This year, when I look at the empty bike, I will remember my own loss. My husband, Bret, rode with us for the final hour, hour six, last year. He would be here again if he could. I ride for him.
Hour four turns into hour five and the excitement of the finish line spikes my adrenaline, leading to that final hour. My legs get heavy now and my heart is full. By now, I’m so emotional, I’m crying. It happens every year. I will cross that imaginary, 100-mile finish line knowing that my six weeks of training led me to complete a hard day’s ride.
I honestly believe that my efforts and those of the other participants will change the future for all women and those who love them. Together, we will make a difference.