Little Grace Goes a Long Way
Hi I’m Scott Thigpen and welcome to my TedX Talk (I’m not kidding)
The Spokes of a Midlife Crisis
In June of 2013, I participated in a mountain bike race called “The Tour Divide,” a 3,000-mile race from Canada to Mexico, tracing the Continental Divide through a series of dirt roads and trails. It took me 22 days, averaging 133 miles a day, and needless to say, it’s one of the toughest feats I’ve ever accomplished (that, and enduring my wife’s singing).
“I’m a good singer, you asshole.” -Heather, wife & editor in Chief
I’m not what you’d call an elite mountain biker. Two years before the race, I could barely get up a hill without getting winded, having heart failure and dying in the driveway (that’s for another story!). But with a lot of practice and sheer stubbornness, I made it to the starting line. What followed were weeks of dodging every complication imaginable (broken bike, broken spirit and broken Scott). Unlike the Tour de France, the Tour Divide is completely unsupported, meaning you do everything yourself—often alone for long stretches, that is unless you count Yogi bear and his grizzly cousins in the forest.
There were 181 racers that year. Only 40 finished. I came in 4th place in the single-speed category (I can’t stand shifting gears), and that’s something I’m damn proud of (and also I want to clarify, I came in 4th in Singlespeed, not overall; the top people overall are some kind of superhuman).
Batshit Oprah Wealthy
But let’s back up. When I first announced my intention to enter the race, I was out of shape and had zero business thinking I could do this. I was an artist, not a mountain biker (though I can fake it pretty well now, at least the art part. Biking? I’m still working on faking that). When I told people I was doing the race, they thought I was batshit crazy. But I was serious. It was my midlife crisis moment at 40—minus the red corvette and mistress (besides, no one is hotter than my wife, no need for mistresses, unless they are like Oprah Winfrey wealthy, then I will happily show my moobs off, I’m cheap and easy).
Most people looked at me like I had seven…er eight…teen alien heads when I told them I was going to do this race. I barely knew anyone who had done long-distance cycling except this local hero named Grace Ragland. Grace had a reputation for endurance races. She was tiny, tough as nails, and at least a decade older than me, I would generally call her the “little jackrabbit”. She could straighten gnarly trails effortlessly and if you tried to pass her in a race, she would punish you by tiring you out and making you fall over on your bike… or, at least that’s what she did to me constantly. To meet her, I went to a major mountain bike race where she took the podium, beating people half her age. Afterward, I introduced myself and asked to pick her brain about long distance riding, mainly the race called The Tour Divide.
Bun(nie)s of Steel
She was drenched in sweat, but she grinned, said, “Sure!” and we sat down to talk. She never once said, “Maybe you should start smaller, this is for seasoned cyclists”; she never rolled her eyes. Instead, a lasting friendship was born with a person who would help ready me for this nutty adventure I was about to embark upon.
Grace helped me with wise advice, encouraged me to take chances, and taught me the fine art of cussing like a sailor. (No one could string expletives together like Grace—though I’m a close second, dammit.) Oh, and did I mention Grace had Multiple Sclerosis? Yep, she did all her badass feats while dealing with MS, which she lovingly called “Multiple ’Scuses.” Nothing stopped her.
Bearly Made It
After years of training, I didn’t just “fly to Banff, Canada, and bike down to the Mexican border.” It was grueling, beautiful, terrifying, heartwarming—full of injuries, fear, and, let’s not forget, grizzly bears. They’re not so cute and fuzzy in real life (ok, well, they are very fuzzy in real life but also highly skilled fuzzy killers!).
When racing the Tour Divide, your bike is outfitted with a satellite tracker, so your friends and family can watch you like Harry Potter with the Marauder’s Map. Grace would text me: “I see you’re in Montana! Cool! How the hell are you going so damn fast?” (Hint: I was hauling ass because Yogi and BooBoo thought I looked like a “pic-a-nic basket”.)
“Big Sharp Teeth Like this…”
One night on the race, I was pushing my bike up a mountain, exhausted, hearing something rustling in the bushes. Convinced it was a bear, I screamed at it and charged the bush with my bike (because I am a fight not flight guy which is so not very smart), accepting that I was going to be one of those “Horse Devourer” snacks all those fancy people eat, ready to be mauled by a 12-foot grizzly. Turns out, it was a rabbit. But not just any rabbit— it was one of those Monty Python-style killer bunnies (at least it seemed like one), I swear! I don’t know who was more scared me or the bunny with big sharp teeth like this “VV”!
ReKe$ha
To top it off, when I reached the summit, lightning struck a couple of trees, starting a fire. So there I was, dodging flames while sliding around in the snow, trying to find the trail while vampire killer bunnies were bounding left and right around me. To add insult to this little mishap, my “tuff guy-Johnny Cash” playlist was supposed to get me through tough spots like this, but I’d copied the wrong playlist to my phone. There was nothing but Ke$ha’s “Tik Tok” on repeat, and I couldn’t shut it off. If you want to know what Hell is like, it’s Ke$ha on loop.
When I got off that mountain, my phone finally picked up service. I had several texts from Grace, laced with profanity, telling me I had “fucking gone off-route” (it’s easy to get lost) and asking how I “could be so damn dumb”. That was Grace—brutal honesty with a lot of swearing.
Grace Under Fire
Fast forward a few years. Grace decided to do the Tour Divide herself. Now it was my turn to harass her. She was faster and tougher than most cyclists I knew, but during the race, she was slower than I expected. At one point, she texted me, “I’m not going to make it. I’m quitting.”
I fired back some snark, calling her a puss, and telling her to keep going. She eventually finished the race, just a lot slower than I’d guessed she would. When I called to congratulate her, she wearily said she was happy but needed rest. This is typical for a Tour Divide finisher because you’re completely exhausted for weeks (or months) after riding through every horrible scenario you can think of. When I finished, I spent three hours in a hot bathtub with a six-pack of beer and two pizzas. Good times.
Grace and I kept in touch, though sometimes I wouldn’t hear from her for long stretches. Then, one day I got a call from our mutual friend, Audrey (who also finished the race and is one badass tough cookie, herself). The call was grim: Grace had cancer in the past, and now it was back; stage 4. I went numb and sick at my stomach. She had gone through chemo before, rocked a bald head, and we even threw a party where we all showed up in pink wigs to celebrate her kicking cancer’s ass—for a little while…
I called her immediately and she answered with, “Hey Scott, I’m dying.”
I tried to joke. “Uh… okay, I mean, we’re all dying, just at different speeds, right? Maybe as slow as you are on a bike you’ve got another 100 million years before you croak?”
Grace snickered at my weak attempt at humor. But that’s what I do— joke and banter to deflect the heavy emotional stuff. She had gotten checked out after her Tour Divide run, noticing a lump on her neck that she thought was from allergies. Nope. Cancer.
This woman had done the toughest mountain bike race in the world with MS and stage 4 cancer.
Ride Or Die
As tough as Grace was, the cancer was relentless. In her final days, someone posted on her behalf:
“Grace is still here, unconscious but alive. True to her spirit, she’ll leave us when she damn well wants to.”
Even in her last moments, Grace was calling the shots.
She died a few days later. I didn’t go to the funeral. Funerals are a holy mind fuck for me and it leaves me remembering the dead in a grey, sad and terrible way. I wanted to remember her in that pink wig, laughing and toasting with us at the bar, not at a somber service full of tears and snot. When I die, I want people drunker than Cooter Brown, laughing at all my follies in the seediest dive bar they can find. That’s how I think funerals should be—more laughing, more drinking, less crying.
This is my eulogy for Grace. She was an incredible friend, the most badass cyclist I ever knew, and a tireless advocate for folks with MS. Time tends to dull our memories of those we lose, but I still carry Grace with me in my heart. I think of her often.
Little Grace went a long way. She made it to the finish line on her own terms—with cancer, MS, and a devilish grin. May you be Raising Hell on your Heavenly bike, Grace.
Long live Grace. And fuck cancer.
Welcome to my TedX Talk
Upon finishing the Tour Divide, I got a call and was asked if I’d give a TedX Talk. My response was “Who’s Ted?” I had no idea what it was at first but once I learned, you best believe I have no problem with bragging about talking to this Ted (also I was so nervous that I kept my eyes closed through my entire presentation, see for yourself in the link below):
A great documentary about the race called “Ride the Divide” by Mike Dion (No relation to Celine as far as a know)
An article about Grace Ragland
My TedX Talk about the Divide Race
My book about the race which has a lot of grammer errers (it was pre-Heather) but it tells the story
Amazing story! My wife and I biked the length of the Andes, South America 2 years back. Most people were very confident my wife could do it, but not many were confident that I could. Congrats on making it!!
Incredible story! Very touching and a sweeet tribute (that extra "e" matters) to Grace. That's quite a feat! I don't think I've ever done anything at that sort of scale before. I once walked 15K steps for 90 days straight to raise money for a project in Africa. And, I did run a 10 mile race... well two... And, those were amazing feats personally. These sorts of big pushes, particularly in mid-life, in my opinion can be life-defining and affirming. I read this story aloud to my husband thinking we were going to get some laughs; instead as we realized this was a different kind of post from Thigpen, we snuggled on the couch with wow's and aw's. Although we did chuckle at all illustrations. Loved this Thig. Thank you for sharing.