I felt a rare, tingling feeling all over my body; the kind that goes under the skin, slides down your throat, shakes up your insides and then gives you a hot flash. It wasn't a stroke or a menopause moment, merely a small transformation happening inside me that I tried to ignore. A scary, yet familiar feeling, it usually led to a monumental task. It petrified me and drove me to escape by eating Grape-nuts which has a crunch so loud you can't hear yourself think. Alas, there was no loud cereal lingering nearby.

It was at the final UOA National Conference in Anaheim, CA where I was fortunate enough to hear former UOA Vice President George Salamy and Get Your Guts in Gear Founder and Ride Director Judy Pacitti talk about the ride. George had gotten a bike for Christmas, trained at a local club and when spring came, he rode 210 miles in three days in the GYGIG ride in New York. Judith Pacitti suffers with Crohn's disease. The GYGIG ride educates and advocates for people with Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis, along with people who have had ostomy surgery. It brings a unique group together for a bike ride and George, who lives with an ileostomy, trained and conquered it.

That tingly feeling started inching up on me as he talked. I had felt it before when I traveled to Egypt to meet my future in-laws. The familiar terror came back in the car on the way to the hospital about to deliver my child. Years later, it haunted me again as I sat in my first college class at age 42 and the tingle persisted until I finished my first book. Please God, I begged inwardly, not the bike ride. Not 210 miles in three days with two severely arthritic knees that need replacing. Not with this body, that is way past pleasingly plump. Did you forget I am going to be fifty soon? I tried to ignore it.

I tried hard. Then I walked over to Judy with a question that sounded more like a statement: "You wouldn't want an out-of-shape woman with two bad knees on this bike ride, would you?" She responded, "Sure, if your doctor gives the okay and with some bike training, we would love to have you."

The following week I visited my orthopedic surgeon for approval. "Can I physically do this?" I asked hesitantly. "You can't hurt them any worse. I'd be impressed if you lasted 210 miles with those knees being bone on bone." He offered cortisone shots, which gave some relief, and I went home to start training. My husband cleaned the cobwebs off the bike, fixed the odometer and off I went for an entire five minutes. Eventually, I pedaled five times a week for at least an hour. My clothes fit better and I lost a few pounds. Spring was coming and I decided to approach a local bike shop about sponsoring my bike ride by training me on their two-wheeled recumbent bike and allowing me to borrow it until after the ride. After several discussions, he agreed and I began my outdoor training on the most apropos day of April Fool's.

The owner of the store pushed me from behind while he ran, "Lay back in the bike and pedal." He let go and memories permeated of my first efforts in second grade to ride my little blue bike with the patriotic tassels that hung from the handlebars. Abruptly, my reminiscing turned to panic as I proceeded to crash into a remaining snow bank. "That's one way to stop," he teased. "Remember the brakes for the next time." I rode around the corner and down again I tumbled, grateful that I wore a helmet. Eventually, after many people had gathered at the nearby store fronts to watch the crazy woman in the parking lot, I stayed upright long enough to be allowed home with the bike.

In my neighborhood two days later, I was three blocks into a ride when I looked at my gears, not noticing my front wheel hitting the curb until I went down. I was stunned and it took a second to get my bearings. Assessing no bones to be broken, I walked my bike through the busy intersection and up the hill to level ground. Then my moment of truth came - only it was twenty minutes long. Hurting badly, I wanted nothing more than to go home.

I was determined to ride the one block back. My mind said go, but my body wouldn't release my foot from the ground. Twenty minutes later with my neighbors having witnessed me talking to myself aloud, they now knew I was certifiably loony. Finally, after at least forty false starts, one finally took. I made it home without crashing, got ready for work and cried as I dried my hair. I questioned my own sanity and my compelling behavior to continue to do something that made no sense.

The next week, I rode my bike to the local lake a mile away. It was two miles around and then I headed home. Every hill looked enormous, but over time, they became easier. I started going on ten-mile bike rides with friends and within a few months we were doing thirty- and forty-mile rides.

In June, I was in Chicago to give a talk and I met with Mark Kennedy from Hollister Incorporated for a ride through Mark's hometown territory -downtown Chicago and along Lakeshore Drive.

Mark and I both trained for Seattle. Our thirty-mile ride took us past awesome architecture, the Navy Pier, Art institute, Shedd Aquarium and Millennium Park followed by a delicious seafood lunch downtown. That was a thrill for me to be able to keep up while looking at the sites and people as I rode. Biking was becoming less scary and I was smiling more.

My recumbent bike, or I should say my "butt on the bike," had its limitations on the larger hills. I talked about the Washington route with Judy and we agreed ahead of time I would be "swept past" a couple of hills. I felt sad that I knew some of the hills might be impossible, but I would do my best.

The morning of the ride arrived and after various speeches, 57 of us took off together. I was in the middle of the group until we came to the first hill within a mile of our start. The riders passed me by except for one man. Making small talk I said, "I can't believe we have hills already, I thought it would be awhile before they began." Two days later, he confided he was concerned for me because he knew these hills were nothing compared to what lay ahead.

I urged him to ride ahead to join the rest of the group as the sweep van would find me if I was too slow. We all needed to make the ferry on time to cross to Whidbey Island and soon the van came to make sure I didn't miss it. There were advantages to riding in the sweep vans: Hershey kisses, good music and an almost guaranteed laugh over something.

Of the 210 miles, only about 40-50 miles were flat. Various degrees of hills from rolling to tsunamis were on this ride billed for novices with training. A recumbent bike was not the desired option, but my willing spirit made up for my lack of leg muscle.

I concentrated while riding to keep from diverting from the white line on the roads that had no shoulders as traffic squeezed by me. Gear shifting was crucial on the hills and I focused on a good pedalling rhythm, praying to get up the hill farther and then getting off and walking up the tallest hills while I enjoyed some breathtaking views of Puget Sound.

I was always playing catch up and sometimes the sweep van would have to bring me a couple of miles closer so I could make the rest stops or lunches in time before they closed. The first two days I did 60 miles each and on the third, 50. I biked eight hours a day. My husband, Bahgat, was a crewmember at the first stop and then he was busy the remainder of the day. Our volunteers were priceless and excellent cheerleaders.

A five-minute melt down by yours truly landed on the shoulders of my friend and volunteer, Lois Fink, after lunch the first day. The tears and Lois's kind words healed my inadequacies encouraging me back on the bike to ride another few hours. As I pedaled in at the end of the day, the riders and volunteers stood and applauded as we made our last few feet. We slept in a rented tent with purchases from a local store that included an air mattress, sheets and pillows (a very good investment for an exhausted woman).

The second day included a small, seven-mile flat area. I didn't care that the wind was against us. I appreciated the shoulder, the flat and being able to think. To give you an example of the size of the hills, it might take me thirty minutes or longer to get up one. Riding down was exhilarating; my fastest descent was 43 miles-per-hour. I let the descents carry me as far as they would because it wasn't long and I'd be walking my bike up the next hill, although it's a bit freaky when you're passing cars.

The next morning, I rode along flat land in the Skagit valley. I will never forget the beauty of the fog that settled over the farmland with the Cascade Mountains in various shades of blue-gray in the background. I talked to cows, horses, llamas and goats as I went by..rarely did people ride with me because I was too slow. At one point, a rider actually pushed my bike along as we rode up a gradual, four-mile hill. He and I peddled furiously, and to distract me, he would whistle show tunes while I guessed each musical. He was a grandfather in excellent shape and he made my bike fly.

The ride was hard and I am glad I did it. Doing the bike ride with an ostomy was not an issue. The tingling has subsided and an amazing feat was completed. No ostomy would stop me from my desires.

An ostomy won't stop you; all your dreams, big and small can come true. I sit writing this essay on a blustery day from the farm of Charlie and Joyce Grotevant in Buckingham,  IL.  I met Charlie several years ago at
The United Ostomy Association Conference in Las Vegas. You may recall his name as a "Great Comebacks Award" winner. We met up again on the bike ride. If it's true opposites attract, that would be us.

Charlie is a marathon runner, tall and lean. I am short, wide and I only run towards chocolate. Charlie always said hello as we passed in the morning and when I arrived at the campground, there he was looking totally refreshed. Over dinner, I found out Charlie was still farming and confessed I always wanted to drive a combine. "Come to harvest and give it a try," he encouraged.

We drove the eight hours from Minnesota and I happily admit some of the voids of my brain have been filled like a silo with knowledge of farming because of Charlie and Joyce. I felt that tingle under the surface as I learned under Joyce's tutelage and Charlie gave me a can with some of the very corn I harvested.

Having an ostomy has brought me to places I never imagined. All I had to do was get on the bike or open the door. I have met wonderful people all over the U.S. and have had some incredible experiences because I felt the fear of the tingle, but I went for it anyway. May you tingle like crazy.

GYGIG 2006 Review
By Judith Pacitti

2006 was another exciting year for Get Your Guts in Gear! Our uniquely supportive community of riders and crew expanded yet again, connecting individuals from more than 25 states. We produced our third annual ride in New York's Hudson Valley River, as well as our first annual Pacific Northwest Ride. Together, riders in both events (and the crew members who voluntarily solicited funds) raised more than $440,000 in donations!

A large number of the 78 riders in New York were novice riders, and roughly half of the riders were Crohn's or colitis patients. Four ostomates rode with us in addition to the ostomates who crewed. Representatives from ConvaTec also joined us.

In Seattle, 54 riders participated, roughly a third of whom also had Crohn's or colitis. Six were ostomates, many of whom were novice cyclists. In Seattle, we were even joined by an incredibly upbeat WOCN nurse as well as representatives from both Hollister and Cymed. Five riders pedaled in both of the events and an amazing 12 crew members supported riders on both coasts!

In 2007, GYGIG continues to grow and is offering three rides. The first will be from March 23-25 in Central Texas: 210 miles along scenic backroads that include the Lost Pines, ranch and farmland, the Guadalupe River, and the famed Hill Country during wildflower season. The Ride will begin in LaGrange and end near Austin.

Our New York Ride will take place as always on the second weekend in June, leaving from New York City and concluding in Saratoga Springs, traveling along the beautiful Hudson River Valley.

From August 3-5, the Seattle Ride will again conclude our ride season. The Seattle-area ride begins in picturesque Edmonds, travels the length of Whidbey Island, traverses the breathtaking bridge at Deception Pass, winds through the Skagit Valley, and then back to Edmonds for a 210-mile loop.

The routes are not flat, but can be completed by a novice with proper training. Please contact us at 718-875-2123 or info@ibdride.org for more information about training, fund raising, the routes, and all of the logistics of getting to the start of each ride. We can't wait for you to gear up with us in 2007!