Peddling for a cure

Becker man has biked across the country to raise money for cancer research

By Nikki Rajala

Having completed his 4,000-mile cross-country ride, Mike Garland takes a moment to appreciate the Washington Monument while standing at the Lincoln Monument in Washington, D.C.  Contributed photo

In 34 days, 12 hours and 8 minutes, Mike Garland from Becker bicycled solo from Oregon to Washington, D.C. That’s nearly 4,000 miles alone. It was a big year in a decade of pretty big years. In the previous 10 years Mike’s walked, biked and canoed across the nation, taxing his body over a staggering 13,850 miles. What drives a person to do this? 

“I started because my dad died of cancer 28 years ago,” Mike said. “Plus two uncles and one aunt. My wife Peg is a breast cancer survivor. It makes me sad that people have to suffer through that pain. The odds are better than 50-50 that seven of my 12 grand-kids and five great-grands will get cancer at some time in their lives. So all my trips raise money for the American Cancer Society (ACS), for research and for places like Hope Lodge which help families with lodging and meals while their loved ones are struggling with treatments. I’m hopeful because of the progress toward a cure.”

While Mike rides on these treks alone, he’s aware of the risks.

“As I get older, and I’m now 67, my family doesn’t want me to go — it’s too dangerous. They’re right. In 2021, I’d walked 500 miles of the Continental Divide Trail — until I messed up my knee. In 2023 I hiked 600 miles of the Appalachian Trail —  before tearing my rotator cuff. Things like that happen because my coordination isn’t as good, my reflexes aren’t as fast. But it’s been worth it for what we’ve been able to raise for ACS.”

What he and his family have raised over the years is just under $130,000.

“This West-Coast-to-East-Coast ride raised nearly $20,000. Personally we couldn’t contribute that much money. It cost me and my wife around $5,000 for this trek — flights to and back, bike upkeep, supplies on the road and such. The money we raised is four times that,” he said.

“When you raise money, doing something unusual — biking, canoeing, hiking —  focuses more  attention, which increases the likelihood that people will donate to ACS,” Mike said. “If 10 people follow me and one donates, it’s a win. Even if they don’t, they learn about services available — like a hotline for support, rides to and from treatments, Hope Lodge, information about the next steps if they have cancer, current research and so much more.”

To prepare for the trek, Mike rode 20 to 80 miles every day.

“I hadn’t ridden since 2016, and I could feel the difference. Plus Minnesota doesn’t have the eight percent grades of mountain terrain. Here, I’d ride a dozen times a day up and down a hill with a six percent grade.”

What did he carry in his saddle bags? Five spare tubes, two spare tires, repair kits, tools, an electric air pump, a hand pump, CO2 canisters, a roll of duct tape around his water bottles. For nights, he brought a small tent, a sleeping bag and air mattress. Clothing: an extra pair of underwear, two pairs of socks, extra shoes, an extra shirt — and sweatpants, which he never wore.

Starting in Oregon

At 6 a.m. June 1, Mike began at the mouth of the Columbia River in Astoria, Oregon. Having roughed out his route while at home, he studied Google Maps to see if particular county roads were under construction or what else might hinder that day’s journey.

This map shows the route Mike Garland biked on his 34-day solo bicycle trek from the West Coast to the East Coast to raise funds for the American Cancer Society. Contributed photo

“I especially checked bridges being worked on. Sometimes I could walk through, but once I had to detour 15 miles around a bridge that was completely out. I biked on Interstate highways in a few states that allow it. I tried to stay off busier roads — but county roads often don’t have good wide shoulders.”

He biked with the traffic, on the white line, vigilant of the road conditions.

“My daughter Missy helped research. She’d tell me how far ahead the next gas station was, or if a campground was an extra mile (or five) off the route. Or, if 60 or 80 miles away, near my stopping point for the night, a town had a motel. If not, I’d camp and save money. Either way, I rested but didn’t sleep well — my legs got jittery and cramped up.”

Each day Mike biked 17 to 18 hours, leaving before dawn and quitting before dark, depending on how tired he was. His goal was to ride between 100 and 120 miles per day; he averaged 110.4 miles, about 12 or 13 miles per hour, even with the wind in his face.

“My body was breaking down around 75-80 miles — that was my wall — so I had to push hard those last 40 to 50 miles each day,” he said.

When he biked up to the Western Continental Divide, he sweated as he climbed, though the temperature was around 32 degrees with snow piles not far off. The next day, starting before sunrise, he rode 25 miles downhill, up to 55 miles per hour — and got so cold he stopped three times to warm up with jumping jacks. By mid-day, the sun popped out and the temperature rose close to 100 degrees.

“I counted a herd of 150 elk, though my video only showed nine,” Mike said. “I watched buffalo in Wyoming, took photos of a place in Nebraska with no trees, noticed Iowa was hilly and Illinois had beautifully manicured lawns. In the mornings from Pittsburgh to Washington D.C., I saw up to 25 deer every day.”

To purchase food and liquid he needed most,  including five 32-ounce bottles of Gatorade, he stopped at gas stations.

“When biking, I didn’t feel that hungry. Once I did an 80-mile stretch on a single Gatorade. Another time I bought two breakfast sandwiches, saving the second for later,” Mike recalled. “But the day quickly hit 100 degrees and after it sat in that heat, I decided I better not eat it.”

Three near-accidents in two minutes

Going downhill at 55, he’d bike in the middle of the lane, staying away from the edge, in case it was  broken. But even flat roads brought challenges.

“In Ohio, Missy routed me on a great road, newly-tarred with a three-foot-wide shoulder. But within a few miles, suddenly it became decrepit, with a broken shoulder and a steep, four-foot-deep ditch. I stayed on the white line until my tire hit a deep crack and swerved into traffic. I couldn’t get out of that groove. At the same time — it was 4 a.m. — headlights from an oncoming truck blinded me. I just barely missed crashing into that semi.

“After being thrown around, I got back on the roadway — and  hit substantial tree branch. That threw me back into traffic. The car approaching blew its horn, and I scarcely straightened out and got back onto the white line. But when a semi with an empty trailer hit a divot, its load swayed way over the center and bounced toward me, so close it nearly hit my shoulder.

“Three near-accidents within two minutes — I was just shaking. I pulled off and laid down for three hours to recover,” he said.

On July 5, 2025, family members celebrate with Mike Garland at the Lincoln Monument, after he completed his West Coast-to East-Coast bicycle trek for the American Cancer Society in 34 days, 12 hours and 8 minutes.  Contributed photo

Four long tunnels in Maryland produced another close call. Mike could see the far end of the first tunnel, but not the second one. Suddenly he got vertigo due to Meniere’s — his fifth episode on this trip —  crashing into the side of tunnel.

“I banged my head, cut up my knee and popped a big sun blister on my hand which bled a lot,” Mike said. “Worse, I broke a rib, which I still feel. I laid on the ground until I was okay, took my medicine and walked through the rest of the tunnels. That made the day a lot longer, but I was nearing the end of the trip and wanted to get all my miles in.”

Mike stopped 13 times in Nebraska to fix flat tires — almost daily, due to the expansion joints on the Interstate highway. In one Ohio town, he had four flats on a road filled with junk, broken bottles and construction materials. And, on his last 25 miles, two more flats.

Along the way, Mike talked to everyone he could about the reason for the trip. At a cancer facility in Cody, Wyoming, he visited terminal patients with no relatives.

“They felt alone and feared nobody would remember them. It reminded me of my dad’s last days. I left crying.”

Mike finished the ride on July 5, meeting cousins at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. Even the flight home was eventful — his ankles swelled up.

Instead of sitting around after this grueling ride, Mike continues to raise attention and funds for the American Cancer Society: over the summer he has grilled every Thursday at the Beck’s Pub in Becker — $5 for a hamburger, hot dog or brat and chips. In autumn, that becomes a chili cook-off or soup meal. The family runs concession stands at basketball tourneys. And in winter, Mike blows the snow off people’s driveways — they donate to ACS on “Mike+You=Cure,” his Facebook site. He’s also written a book, “Mike+You=Cure” detailing his previous hikes, canoe trips and bicycle rides for the American Cancer Society. Available on Amazon, the profits go to ACS.

“These ways to raise money are ongoing and it all goes to ACS or Hope Lodge,” Mike said. “Becker has been overwhelmingly supportive. Cancer affects everyone in some way.”

On completion of his 34-day ride across the U.S., Mike Garland is greeted by family members in Washington, D.C. Contributed photo

The hardest thing on this trip was being away from his family.

“Giving back is a huge part of us, a big priority in our lives. A few weeks ago, when I was cooking burgers, one great grandson asked, ‘You give this money away?’ and I answered ‘Yes. It helps people who have cancer treatments and research so people won’t get cancer.’ My great grandson thought for a while and said, ‘When you get too old, can I do this?’ They know they’re donating for charity and, for me, that life lesson is a big deal.”

To donate for ACS, visit his Facebook site: Mike+You=Cure. His book is available on Amazon.