To all my supporters,
As most of you are aware this blog was created to capture the essence of the weekend.
This particular weekend was a mishmash of different sights, sounds, smells, and emotions, some good, some not so...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Day 0 - Friday June 12, 2009
Day 0
Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
My bike is ready, well at least I think it is, but I'll find out otherwise later.
All I need do is get a good night's rest, wake up at 5:40 AM, Shower and GO!
You know it's times like these that seem to make the mind wander. As I was getting things ready for tomorrow morning I was deliberately slowing things down. All day I had been racing around, working at my job, of course, but also trying to take care of all the little things I needed to do before the ride began. So as it grew darker outside I slowed down and put things in there place, not because I'm overly organized, but because if I didn't, I'd definitely forget something.
So I put out my clothes , packed the few things I would bring with me. Double checked my water bottle, changed over to my traveling wallet (money Health card, and 1 piece of ID only), and turned out the lights.
In bed, looking up at the ceiling, things were moving very slow, it was very quiet and ominous.
Kind of like the rise of the car on a roller coaster, the closer to the top you get the slower it is, then for a brief second everything stops, then all of a sudden........................................................
BEEP,BEEP, BEEP - IT'S 5:41 AM
________________________________________________________
Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
My bike is ready, well at least I think it is, but I'll find out otherwise later.
All I need do is get a good night's rest, wake up at 5:40 AM, Shower and GO!
You know it's times like these that seem to make the mind wander. As I was getting things ready for tomorrow morning I was deliberately slowing things down. All day I had been racing around, working at my job, of course, but also trying to take care of all the little things I needed to do before the ride began. So as it grew darker outside I slowed down and put things in there place, not because I'm overly organized, but because if I didn't, I'd definitely forget something.
So I put out my clothes , packed the few things I would bring with me. Double checked my water bottle, changed over to my traveling wallet (money Health card, and 1 piece of ID only), and turned out the lights.
In bed, looking up at the ceiling, things were moving very slow, it was very quiet and ominous.
Kind of like the rise of the car on a roller coaster, the closer to the top you get the slower it is, then for a brief second everything stops, then all of a sudden........................................................
BEEP,BEEP, BEEP - IT'S 5:41 AM
________________________________________________________
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Day 1 - Saturday June 13, 2009
Day 1
The first thing I can tell you is that the overall feeling on Day 1 is different from that of the Weekend to End Breast Cancer. Nothing bad at all, just different.
In my recollection there is a more somber mood in the Weekend to end... however with the Ride to Conquer, there is much talking going on, talk about tires, chains, brakes, and even underwear. It is not ramblings, or the kind of uneasy talk people have before they do something they would rather not do, but the kind of talk that people have before starting something they enjoy, something they want to do, something they wouldn’t miss for anything.
Many of the people there had done it the year before, or had done similar 'rides' for charities, however there were also quite a few newbie’s like myself who really had no idea what to expect.
Like I had mentioned in my Day 0 Blog, I went to bed with the idea that I had everything in place and all I had to do was peddle.
We live and learn.
Think of it this way, at the walk for cancer you have some 5000 people standing close together. They all grow silent as the opening ceremonies begin, and listen. It is not so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, but if somebody said, “Hey I dropped my pin” you would be able to hear them anywhere in the crowd. The ride for cancer had what I later learned was some 3500 riders, half of which were itching to get going. They were all respectful, but you could almost see some of them mouthing the words to finish off sentences for the speaker who caught up in the emotion of what we were all doing were having a hard time getting the words out.
I joined up with my teammate; she had met a woman who had decided to do it on her own. Bev, as I recall her name. She too had done the walk before, and felt that everyone should be giving something back to their community, if everyone did, the world would truly be a better place.
True sentiments, however it would appear that there are people who take more than they give, I guess that’s why there are people who give more than they take, to balance things off.
Shortly after eight we were told to roll out. Unlike the walk, it didn’t just happen. I guess people walking find it easier to gauge their speed and move amongst each other, cyclists, on the other hand don’t mingle to well in slow motion. But we slowly made our way through the Prince’s Gates at the CNE grounds and turned right onto Lakeshore Boulevard. The rush and exhilaration of finally moving was great. Here I was starting a 200 Km journey and I felt fantastic, I captured the feeling in my memory, that first kilometer along the Lakeshore as if somehow I knew I would need it later on to boost my spirits.
As we approached the West end of Toronto I became aware of all the cyclists around me. We were this huge pack of bicycles moving down the highway and nothing could stop us. Throw a big dump truck in front of us, and we’d go right through it.
“ We don’t stop for nobody”
“We don’t stop for nobody”
...
Reality check. I started noticing cyclists on the side of the road already fixing things that shouldn’t be breaking so early in the ride. Well that feeling from the initial start was nice while it lasted, I would need that small piece of memory many times over the weekend.
By now we were in Mississauga, and I was wondering why, after training a few days a week and for three and a half hours at a time was I getting tired after an hour? I chalked it up to not getting enough sleep last night, and carried on.
But it seemed to get worse. Along the Queensway, up a few hills, and I realized that my bike was getting harder to pedal. I got off and gave it an inspection, front wheel was fine, back wheel, mmmh! Seems one of my brake pads broke free from its housing and was gradually working its way in between the housing and the tire, not enough to stop it, but enough to make we work harder.
Within minutes of stopping a Tech Team stopped and asked if I needed help, I told them what the problem was and they immediately broke out their tools took off the part and asked if I had a spare.
Yes I said triumphantly, wanting to sound like I was prepared for anything.
The first thing I can tell you is that the overall feeling on Day 1 is different from that of the Weekend to End Breast Cancer. Nothing bad at all, just different.
In my recollection there is a more somber mood in the Weekend to end... however with the Ride to Conquer, there is much talking going on, talk about tires, chains, brakes, and even underwear. It is not ramblings, or the kind of uneasy talk people have before they do something they would rather not do, but the kind of talk that people have before starting something they enjoy, something they want to do, something they wouldn’t miss for anything.
Many of the people there had done it the year before, or had done similar 'rides' for charities, however there were also quite a few newbie’s like myself who really had no idea what to expect.
Like I had mentioned in my Day 0 Blog, I went to bed with the idea that I had everything in place and all I had to do was peddle.
We live and learn.
Think of it this way, at the walk for cancer you have some 5000 people standing close together. They all grow silent as the opening ceremonies begin, and listen. It is not so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, but if somebody said, “Hey I dropped my pin” you would be able to hear them anywhere in the crowd. The ride for cancer had what I later learned was some 3500 riders, half of which were itching to get going. They were all respectful, but you could almost see some of them mouthing the words to finish off sentences for the speaker who caught up in the emotion of what we were all doing were having a hard time getting the words out.
I joined up with my teammate; she had met a woman who had decided to do it on her own. Bev, as I recall her name. She too had done the walk before, and felt that everyone should be giving something back to their community, if everyone did, the world would truly be a better place.
True sentiments, however it would appear that there are people who take more than they give, I guess that’s why there are people who give more than they take, to balance things off.
Shortly after eight we were told to roll out. Unlike the walk, it didn’t just happen. I guess people walking find it easier to gauge their speed and move amongst each other, cyclists, on the other hand don’t mingle to well in slow motion. But we slowly made our way through the Prince’s Gates at the CNE grounds and turned right onto Lakeshore Boulevard. The rush and exhilaration of finally moving was great. Here I was starting a 200 Km journey and I felt fantastic, I captured the feeling in my memory, that first kilometer along the Lakeshore as if somehow I knew I would need it later on to boost my spirits.
As we approached the West end of Toronto I became aware of all the cyclists around me. We were this huge pack of bicycles moving down the highway and nothing could stop us. Throw a big dump truck in front of us, and we’d go right through it.
“ We don’t stop for nobody”
“We don’t stop for nobody”
...
Reality check. I started noticing cyclists on the side of the road already fixing things that shouldn’t be breaking so early in the ride. Well that feeling from the initial start was nice while it lasted, I would need that small piece of memory many times over the weekend.
By now we were in Mississauga, and I was wondering why, after training a few days a week and for three and a half hours at a time was I getting tired after an hour? I chalked it up to not getting enough sleep last night, and carried on.
But it seemed to get worse. Along the Queensway, up a few hills, and I realized that my bike was getting harder to pedal. I got off and gave it an inspection, front wheel was fine, back wheel, mmmh! Seems one of my brake pads broke free from its housing and was gradually working its way in between the housing and the tire, not enough to stop it, but enough to make we work harder.
Within minutes of stopping a Tech Team stopped and asked if I needed help, I told them what the problem was and they immediately broke out their tools took off the part and asked if I had a spare.
Yes I said triumphantly, wanting to sound like I was prepared for anything.
Two minutes later I was back on the road.
The hill wasn’t so bad after all. Now to play catch up..........................................
Up through Milton and basically following the Niagara escarpment, we were headed towards Hamilton. I wasn’t lost in the sense that I didn’t know where I was, or couldn't find my way home. But lost in the sense that I really didn’t know where I was in this rural part of Ontario. I saw the names of towns I’ve heard of, either listening to traffic reports or reading about it in the newspaper, but here I was in the middle of it all.
As the day was getting on, I thought, “what if I don’t make it?” I felt reasonably well. Even though my muscles in my legs were nagging at me to stop. Often on hills as I would stand in order to power myself up the hill, my calf muscles would lock up and I’d have to jump off in pain. “Gee Zuz”! I guess I should have practiced on more hills...
Up through Milton and basically following the Niagara escarpment, we were headed towards Hamilton. I wasn’t lost in the sense that I didn’t know where I was, or couldn't find my way home. But lost in the sense that I really didn’t know where I was in this rural part of Ontario. I saw the names of towns I’ve heard of, either listening to traffic reports or reading about it in the newspaper, but here I was in the middle of it all.
As the day was getting on, I thought, “what if I don’t make it?” I felt reasonably well. Even though my muscles in my legs were nagging at me to stop. Often on hills as I would stand in order to power myself up the hill, my calf muscles would lock up and I’d have to jump off in pain. “Gee Zuz”! I guess I should have practiced on more hills...
Note to self: Remember raisins are a great source of energy when you really need the boost!
They don’t call Hamilton the ‘Hammer’ for nothing. Before you know it you are in the middle of it, and it’s all hills. There is only one way out, and that’s back up those hills.
By the time you make it, you feel like you been hammered, or in another sense of the word, you feel like you should go out and get hammered.
By the time you make it, you feel like you been hammered, or in another sense of the word, you feel like you should go out and get hammered.
The last time I had been to Hamilton was at a food convention many many years ago, and to see an Opera at Dundurn Castle, the convention didn't leave a good taste in my mouth (pun intended), while the Opera was quite the experience. But as I rode through the streets of Hamilton I thought to myself, This place has really changed, it's clean, the people seem friendly, and the city seemed a mixture of old and new. I'll have to make a point of coming back and checking things out. I had been to the Old Mill in Ancaster a while back and that place was nice, but Ancaster is a quiet little hamlet that always tried to keep itself separate from the Hammer, much like Leaside, Willowdale, and Agincourt people used to correct you if you mentioned that they were from Toronto. "don't you know, Agincourt is a little bit of paradise that Toronto somehow managed to surround", of course, never ever say that Agincourt is part of Scarborough...
It would turn out to be a long day. Although we all started out at pretty much the same time, the distance between the lead bikes and us slower 'folk' would grow as the kilometers rolled along.
I’m sure my teammate was having her own ideas on whether this had been a good idea or not, but I’d already said to her once that if she was really tired, she could give up, many other people were doing it. But she was adamant that she would finish.
I agreed, we could do it...it wasn’t that long to go. Even though we were running at the end of the pack, and we’d been warned that if we were still on the road at 7:00 PM, we’d have to get picked up.
But then I saw something that encouraged me, no make that, inspired me to pick myself up, shake myself off, and get my ass moving. A young, lady, perhaps about 28, was part of the entourage making up the trailing pack. She had her family with her following her in a van, the van’s plates were from Quebec, I would later learn that some of her family was from Vancouver. What was so inspiring? She was doing the ride on a specially built tricycle. She had lost a leg to cancer and was doing the entire 200 kilometers using only one leg to peddle.
It would turn out to be a long day. Although we all started out at pretty much the same time, the distance between the lead bikes and us slower 'folk' would grow as the kilometers rolled along.
I’m sure my teammate was having her own ideas on whether this had been a good idea or not, but I’d already said to her once that if she was really tired, she could give up, many other people were doing it. But she was adamant that she would finish.
I agreed, we could do it...it wasn’t that long to go. Even though we were running at the end of the pack, and we’d been warned that if we were still on the road at 7:00 PM, we’d have to get picked up.
But then I saw something that encouraged me, no make that, inspired me to pick myself up, shake myself off, and get my ass moving. A young, lady, perhaps about 28, was part of the entourage making up the trailing pack. She had her family with her following her in a van, the van’s plates were from Quebec, I would later learn that some of her family was from Vancouver. What was so inspiring? She was doing the ride on a specially built tricycle. She had lost a leg to cancer and was doing the entire 200 kilometers using only one leg to peddle.
There is a kind of unwritten code amongst the walkers and riders and the people running things, if you wanted to finish on your own power, unless you were endangering yourself, or others, they would let you carry on.
In a way it's as if to signify the journey one takes when they have cancer, yes we can all support someone who has cancer, care for them, and try to make it easier, but the journey of someone with cancer is a long ride that only they can take, and finish.
It was sometime after 6:30 PM when we arrived at the campsite. We weren’t the last ones, and for all the cheering that went on we could have well been the first... another thing that the organizers and volunteers are passionate about, every rider counts, the first in, the last in, and everyone in between. Oh, there was one volunteer who had it all wrong. He thought that the most important part was raising the funds; the rest of it didn’t matter. I suspect he won’t be around next year.
Lock up your bike in the compound.
Find your gear.
Find your tent.
Get your dinner.
They even had free beer thanks to Steam Whistle Breweries.
Being a food guy, I won’t go on about the dinner, it was nutritious, to say the least...
I had contemplated having a shower before retiring for the evening, something I would regret not doing in the morning, but I was tired, and we had to be on the road by 8:00 AM at the latest.
As I was drifting off to sleep I started thinking about the changes that take place when someone knows they are going to die. I know, I know, we are all going to die one day, but we push that out of sight, out of mind until it is upon us, and even then we sometimes choose to ignore it. I’ve known several people who had to come to grips with the fact that they knew they would not live out there lives as old men/women. Vicky being the closest, and the most recent.
There is a period of denial in the person, but at some point (and I’m speaking from my experience with Vicky) there is a point of acceptance, if you can call it that, and clarity about what really is important in life, and what is not.
I would often be told not to worry about certain things, because I couldn’t change them, I could only accept them, or ignore them, but to dwell upon them and let them eat away at you just shortens your life.
I’m sometimes a slow learner, but I do learn.
My Father is someone who, when we are together talking, reminds me that something could happen to him any day. At 86 he is happy to wake up in the morning, enjoy what he can, and not let the world (other people) frustrate him too much, and if it does, he mellows out with a couple of beers. I’m one who is often critical of his drinking, I've seen a lifetime of alcohol making things worse than they have to be, yes I drink, and once in a while I'll get drunk, but I have my rules for drinking,
They even had free beer thanks to Steam Whistle Breweries.
Being a food guy, I won’t go on about the dinner, it was nutritious, to say the least...
I had contemplated having a shower before retiring for the evening, something I would regret not doing in the morning, but I was tired, and we had to be on the road by 8:00 AM at the latest.
As I was drifting off to sleep I started thinking about the changes that take place when someone knows they are going to die. I know, I know, we are all going to die one day, but we push that out of sight, out of mind until it is upon us, and even then we sometimes choose to ignore it. I’ve known several people who had to come to grips with the fact that they knew they would not live out there lives as old men/women. Vicky being the closest, and the most recent.
There is a period of denial in the person, but at some point (and I’m speaking from my experience with Vicky) there is a point of acceptance, if you can call it that, and clarity about what really is important in life, and what is not.
I would often be told not to worry about certain things, because I couldn’t change them, I could only accept them, or ignore them, but to dwell upon them and let them eat away at you just shortens your life.
I’m sometimes a slow learner, but I do learn.
My Father is someone who, when we are together talking, reminds me that something could happen to him any day. At 86 he is happy to wake up in the morning, enjoy what he can, and not let the world (other people) frustrate him too much, and if it does, he mellows out with a couple of beers. I’m one who is often critical of his drinking, I've seen a lifetime of alcohol making things worse than they have to be, yes I drink, and once in a while I'll get drunk, but I have my rules for drinking,
1. Never drink alone, Yes I'll break this one occasionally by having a beer or glass of wine with dinner, but never more than one.
2. Never drink when your unhappy, pissed off, or worse, angry, if your happy, alcohol enhances that, to a point, once you go beyond that point it's a downward spiral.
and
3. Never mix your drinks up. Sure have a beer, then switch to wine or liquor. But to take a belly full of each is just asking for trouble. Those pledges we made to the porcelain god when we were younger, about never doing 'that' again was likely preceded by some mixture of Beer, Wine, and Liquor.
But I can no longer be too judgmental about my Dad as I have reconciled that I cannot change him, I do not wish to ignore him, so I must accept what is. He sometimes complains that he is tired, and a few drinks relieves the pressure and makes him feel at ease. And so he wakes up every morning, does some chores, talks to people, and enjoys his routine.
Yes, he's tired, but he still has some quality of life about him.
Vicky would often tell me she is tired, tired of the pain, tired of living. When you no longer see a future ahead of you, is the sunrise as beautiful? Like my Dad, she enjoyed each day for what it was, but when she was sick and in pain she would want it all to stop.
I would want it to stop as well, but I think we had to different ideas on what stopping the pain meant.
Those that cared about her clung to some idea that a miracle could happen, we didn’t want her to give up, even though she had already told us that she had, if only she could keep fighting it... That is our lot in life, to keep hoping for a miracle. It is what being human is about I think.
As people who care, anything less would be unthinkable, but we must also think about the person we love, we must accept what is. I held my Mother as she lay dying on the kitchen floor, and held Vicky's hands as they unplugged the life support, perhaps the hardest decision I've ever made.
As people who care, anything less would be unthinkable, but we must also think about the person we love, we must accept what is. I held my Mother as she lay dying on the kitchen floor, and held Vicky's hands as they unplugged the life support, perhaps the hardest decision I've ever made.
They are free now.
So off to sleep I went. Almost like a dream state, I could here the people around me, talking, laughing, and what would end up being the choice musical instrument of the night, the Anal Saxophone, played by, I would guess just about everybody around my area. Played in Alto, Soprano, and Baritone. I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad if everyone had played in key, or at least in unison, but I was drifting off and eventually these night noises would cease.
So off to sleep I went. Almost like a dream state, I could here the people around me, talking, laughing, and what would end up being the choice musical instrument of the night, the Anal Saxophone, played by, I would guess just about everybody around my area. Played in Alto, Soprano, and Baritone. I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad if everyone had played in key, or at least in unison, but I was drifting off and eventually these night noises would cease.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Day 2 - Sunday June 14, 2009
Day 2
Morning comes early without drapes or curtains to cover the light. It was just after 5 AM when I became aware of people moving around outside. I thought it way to early to move, so I tried to go back to sleep. But by 6 AM, which happens to be my usual rising time, I figured there was no point in putting it off.
Having had some beans at dinner last night I was not to be immune to playing that saxophone, as I was getting dressed I let one rip and you'd think the earth had moved or something. All I could here around me were my neighbors asking each other "Was that you", "Nicely done", "Who was that!". I almost expected someone to hand me a trophy as I got out of the tent, but they just smiled and said "Morn'in!"
I wanted to go have a shower, pack my gear, have breakfast and then get going.
Well, forget about the shower, the line up was much too long.
OK I thought, let me go to the bathroom, and then pack up.
Well, forget about the bathroom, the condition of these bathrooms (Port-a-potties actually) would have made your average gas station look like a hospital operating room. I don’t know what happened over night but it reminded me of the old Confucius story WhoFlungPoo. I decided to hold everything until a Tim Horton’s came into sight.
Brushing my teeth was done at the end of the field we were in.
It seems many people had the same idea, “mgoob Monink” I said to my neighbor, “Mmmmooorng” she said back spitting out after she had spoken.
Throw the gear on the truck; it would be in Niagara Falls later that afternoon.
Off to breakfast, and again I’ll refrain from saying too much. I’ve cooked for large groups of people before, never 5000, but there has got to be a better way to get your food to the table while it’s hot.
Aside from that it was nutritious, which in the end is what its all about I guess.
Out of the gates at 7:32 AM and through the town of Ancaster (I think that’s where we were), it’s too bad they don’t hire someone to play the bagpipes as you leave. On the cancer walk the departure from camp was marked with the sound of the bagpipes as you pass by the starting gate, something about them just gets your blood pumping.
Much of the day was spent enjoying the countryside, it really gives you some perspective to trundle down a country road, on one side there is a farm, on the other a huge Mega house.
Who owns these huge estates? where do they work? Did they win the lottery? I mean these are beautiful places, lots of land and no one around for kilometers to bother you.
My mind wanders, I think I need to organize a wine tour by bicycle, it would be a great way to see the the wineries.
I hadn't noticed at first, when did it first start acting up? Once again my bike had a problem, but this time I wasn’t sure what it was. I thought at first it was the gear cables, as my bike kept on switching gears without warning, and often at an inappropriate time. Finally I came to an intersection with a Tech Team on the other side, off I went to get some help.
They asked what the problem was, I told them the symptoms. They took my bike and out it on the back of there van, just then my teammate came along and seeing the bike on the rack said “you can’t quite now. We are almost there.” The technician interjected and said, “ Your chain is seized up, if I try and pry it, I might break it. I can put some oil on it, it might make it, or it may break later?” It was a question in a statement, “lube it up” I said, as long as I can ride it.
I guess what must have happened overnight there was some dew settling on the bikes, I hadn’t oiled my chain for a while, (read that as many years), and the water rusted the chain together a one point in the linkage, whenever it would hit the gear it would slip off and drop down a gear on me.
It took a while, I remember thinking that the best I could hope for was that it didn’t break, but then without any notice, it went back to normal, nothing broken, just a smooth, well oiled chain.
To say we took the roundabout way into Niagara Falls is like saying Dried Cod is salty, there was definitely a more direct route, but we had to cover 200 Km’s, still, the scenery was nice and since we are not allowed to take any Ipods, or radio’s etc, it gave you a lot of time to think. I decided to turn things around a bit (not too surprising is it), and decided I wasn’t going to think about certain things. That’s right, I wasn’t going to think about what I needed to do at work on Monday, I wasn’t going to think about the work I needed to do on my Dad’s house, I wasn’t going to think about my menu for Christmas in July, I was just going to roll along, and take it as it comes and be thankful that I was able to wake up this morning. I wasn’t even going to think about my eyes, that by now had started to get worse. If you look at the picture of me taken this morning you can see my eyes are already swelling up and getting red. My sight is fine, but it is just damm uncomfortable.
Along the way you see many different people, most are courteous and say a quick ‘hi’ as they pass you, or give you a Smile & Wave, but along one of the back roads I spotted a couple that had been riding together, they were holding hands while riding, and didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Her name was Linda, and I never got his name, except that it was ‘this is my husband’, to which he acknowledged with a nod. I would later learn that Linda had an aversion to hills, just like my teammate of the same name. It turned out that she was a cancer survivor, and she was determined to finish on here own, her husband, while not officially registered for the ride was there to help her. And help her he did, always encouraging her to keep going, or take a rest, or just to walk the bike when she felt overwhelmed. Like I had mentioned before, it wasn’t a race and there is an unspoken admiration for those, especially those that are survivors, who want to finish under their own power. It brought back a wave of memories and while my eyes had been getting dry over the last few kilometers, they were now swelling with tears that would keep them moist for some time.
Encouragement is so vital, yet we often don’t think about it much, or make a checklist of things to encourage, but without it...
I often say I prefer to pull people then push them; you can berate someone and make them feel bad about what they’ve done, or you can encourage them and have them understand that failure is just a part of the learning process, and that you only fail when you stop trying.
I’m mostly a self motivated person, I can set my mind to do something and in general will get it done, I sometimes take a few tries to get something right, and even once in a while I will give up (fail), and decide that it is just not worth the effort, or that it is something I really cannot do, perhaps if I had encouragement I would not have failed.
But even on this ride for cancer, where my self-motivation was great, and I had the encouragement and support from family and those that are close to me, when you’re out there and you’ve got some 30 kilometers to go, and all the volunteer staff keep telling you is “you’re almost there” (yes I started hearing that at about the 160 Km mark, and would here it for the remainder of the day), there were times when I really felt I may not be able to make it. My muscles had adapted from yesterday, and were no longer sore, in fact I didn’t get one ‘Charley Horse’ at all on Sunday, but my butt, or more precisely at the risk of being a bit offensive, that area just south of your scrotum as it climbs up you bum (I’m sure there’s a name for it), was killing me. It had started yesterday and I didn’t think it could get worse, but it could, and I was at the point where every time I had a hill, even the slightest of hills, I would take the opportunity to stand up and let the pain subside a bit. Boy, how I wish I had gone out and bought those cycling shorts with the built in padding.
No matter, throughout the course of the afternoon my teammate and I would trade encouraging remarks, it seemed we instinctively knew when either of us needed that extra encouragement, it seemed to work...
Sometime around 4:15 PM we pulled across the finish line to a chorus of “Well Done!” “You made it!” and “Yeah!!!”
The sense of relief is over the top, and suddenly your body stops complaining (Oh, it would complain again later), and you feel great.
I call this the postpartum mood, as I can only guess it is close to the feeling a woman will have when they give birth, they never want to go through it again in a million years, but perhaps after a few weeks or months they begin to change their mind and say, “yes I could do it all over again”.
I’m not sure if I will do the ride again. My sense of giving something back to the community is very strong, but I wonder if this is the way. Since I only do this type of event every two years, I have lots of time to think about it.
Now, it was off to find a bus that would take me back into the city....
Morning comes early without drapes or curtains to cover the light. It was just after 5 AM when I became aware of people moving around outside. I thought it way to early to move, so I tried to go back to sleep. But by 6 AM, which happens to be my usual rising time, I figured there was no point in putting it off.
Having had some beans at dinner last night I was not to be immune to playing that saxophone, as I was getting dressed I let one rip and you'd think the earth had moved or something. All I could here around me were my neighbors asking each other "Was that you", "Nicely done", "Who was that!". I almost expected someone to hand me a trophy as I got out of the tent, but they just smiled and said "Morn'in!"
I wanted to go have a shower, pack my gear, have breakfast and then get going.
Well, forget about the shower, the line up was much too long.
OK I thought, let me go to the bathroom, and then pack up.
Well, forget about the bathroom, the condition of these bathrooms (Port-a-potties actually) would have made your average gas station look like a hospital operating room. I don’t know what happened over night but it reminded me of the old Confucius story WhoFlungPoo. I decided to hold everything until a Tim Horton’s came into sight.
Brushing my teeth was done at the end of the field we were in.
It seems many people had the same idea, “mgoob Monink” I said to my neighbor, “Mmmmooorng” she said back spitting out after she had spoken.
Throw the gear on the truck; it would be in Niagara Falls later that afternoon.
Off to breakfast, and again I’ll refrain from saying too much. I’ve cooked for large groups of people before, never 5000, but there has got to be a better way to get your food to the table while it’s hot.
Aside from that it was nutritious, which in the end is what its all about I guess.
Out of the gates at 7:32 AM and through the town of Ancaster (I think that’s where we were), it’s too bad they don’t hire someone to play the bagpipes as you leave. On the cancer walk the departure from camp was marked with the sound of the bagpipes as you pass by the starting gate, something about them just gets your blood pumping.
Much of the day was spent enjoying the countryside, it really gives you some perspective to trundle down a country road, on one side there is a farm, on the other a huge Mega house.
Who owns these huge estates? where do they work? Did they win the lottery? I mean these are beautiful places, lots of land and no one around for kilometers to bother you.
My mind wanders, I think I need to organize a wine tour by bicycle, it would be a great way to see the the wineries.
I hadn't noticed at first, when did it first start acting up? Once again my bike had a problem, but this time I wasn’t sure what it was. I thought at first it was the gear cables, as my bike kept on switching gears without warning, and often at an inappropriate time. Finally I came to an intersection with a Tech Team on the other side, off I went to get some help.
They asked what the problem was, I told them the symptoms. They took my bike and out it on the back of there van, just then my teammate came along and seeing the bike on the rack said “you can’t quite now. We are almost there.” The technician interjected and said, “ Your chain is seized up, if I try and pry it, I might break it. I can put some oil on it, it might make it, or it may break later?” It was a question in a statement, “lube it up” I said, as long as I can ride it.
I guess what must have happened overnight there was some dew settling on the bikes, I hadn’t oiled my chain for a while, (read that as many years), and the water rusted the chain together a one point in the linkage, whenever it would hit the gear it would slip off and drop down a gear on me.
It took a while, I remember thinking that the best I could hope for was that it didn’t break, but then without any notice, it went back to normal, nothing broken, just a smooth, well oiled chain.
To say we took the roundabout way into Niagara Falls is like saying Dried Cod is salty, there was definitely a more direct route, but we had to cover 200 Km’s, still, the scenery was nice and since we are not allowed to take any Ipods, or radio’s etc, it gave you a lot of time to think. I decided to turn things around a bit (not too surprising is it), and decided I wasn’t going to think about certain things. That’s right, I wasn’t going to think about what I needed to do at work on Monday, I wasn’t going to think about the work I needed to do on my Dad’s house, I wasn’t going to think about my menu for Christmas in July, I was just going to roll along, and take it as it comes and be thankful that I was able to wake up this morning. I wasn’t even going to think about my eyes, that by now had started to get worse. If you look at the picture of me taken this morning you can see my eyes are already swelling up and getting red. My sight is fine, but it is just damm uncomfortable.
Along the way you see many different people, most are courteous and say a quick ‘hi’ as they pass you, or give you a Smile & Wave, but along one of the back roads I spotted a couple that had been riding together, they were holding hands while riding, and didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Her name was Linda, and I never got his name, except that it was ‘this is my husband’, to which he acknowledged with a nod. I would later learn that Linda had an aversion to hills, just like my teammate of the same name. It turned out that she was a cancer survivor, and she was determined to finish on here own, her husband, while not officially registered for the ride was there to help her. And help her he did, always encouraging her to keep going, or take a rest, or just to walk the bike when she felt overwhelmed. Like I had mentioned before, it wasn’t a race and there is an unspoken admiration for those, especially those that are survivors, who want to finish under their own power. It brought back a wave of memories and while my eyes had been getting dry over the last few kilometers, they were now swelling with tears that would keep them moist for some time.
Encouragement is so vital, yet we often don’t think about it much, or make a checklist of things to encourage, but without it...
I often say I prefer to pull people then push them; you can berate someone and make them feel bad about what they’ve done, or you can encourage them and have them understand that failure is just a part of the learning process, and that you only fail when you stop trying.
I’m mostly a self motivated person, I can set my mind to do something and in general will get it done, I sometimes take a few tries to get something right, and even once in a while I will give up (fail), and decide that it is just not worth the effort, or that it is something I really cannot do, perhaps if I had encouragement I would not have failed.
But even on this ride for cancer, where my self-motivation was great, and I had the encouragement and support from family and those that are close to me, when you’re out there and you’ve got some 30 kilometers to go, and all the volunteer staff keep telling you is “you’re almost there” (yes I started hearing that at about the 160 Km mark, and would here it for the remainder of the day), there were times when I really felt I may not be able to make it. My muscles had adapted from yesterday, and were no longer sore, in fact I didn’t get one ‘Charley Horse’ at all on Sunday, but my butt, or more precisely at the risk of being a bit offensive, that area just south of your scrotum as it climbs up you bum (I’m sure there’s a name for it), was killing me. It had started yesterday and I didn’t think it could get worse, but it could, and I was at the point where every time I had a hill, even the slightest of hills, I would take the opportunity to stand up and let the pain subside a bit. Boy, how I wish I had gone out and bought those cycling shorts with the built in padding.
No matter, throughout the course of the afternoon my teammate and I would trade encouraging remarks, it seemed we instinctively knew when either of us needed that extra encouragement, it seemed to work...
Sometime around 4:15 PM we pulled across the finish line to a chorus of “Well Done!” “You made it!” and “Yeah!!!”
The sense of relief is over the top, and suddenly your body stops complaining (Oh, it would complain again later), and you feel great.
I call this the postpartum mood, as I can only guess it is close to the feeling a woman will have when they give birth, they never want to go through it again in a million years, but perhaps after a few weeks or months they begin to change their mind and say, “yes I could do it all over again”.
I’m not sure if I will do the ride again. My sense of giving something back to the community is very strong, but I wonder if this is the way. Since I only do this type of event every two years, I have lots of time to think about it.
Now, it was off to find a bus that would take me back into the city....
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Aftermath
It had been a long time since I took an actual bath, but by 9:00 PM Sunday night I was laying back in the tub filled with hot water and Epsom salts, with a cold beer in my hand.
I wasn't so much tired as I was engulfed in images from the weekend. I mean, yes my bum hurt, almost to the point it was numb. But my muscles had long ago stopped complaining.
I wanted to do something, but didn't know what to do. Food was on the way, so I couldn't linger too long. Yes food, another beer, and perhaps a bit of sleep. I did have to work after all.
Originally I had thought of taking a vacation day and staying down in Niagara, but what a waste of a perfectly good vacation day, I'd much rather go in to work and suffer quietly.
Well, if you've managed to read this far, Congratulations! But more importantly, I'd like to thank you for your support.
You all have different reasons for supporting me, there is no right or wrong reason. Some I believe, remember Vicky and do so in her memory, others because they believe in the work done by the Princess Margaret Hospital, others still who may question the need to raise funds, and/or the ability to delivery improvements in cancer care, but you believe in me, and in doing so give your money without hesitation, I couldn't ask for a better commendation from you all.
14.5 Million dollars raised on the ride to Conquer Cancer, June 13/14th.
It is quite an achievement and the money will be well spent. I may have mentioned this before, but I'll say it again anyway.
If it is money that will find ways to better treat cancer, find ways to prevent it, and even find a cure, then let's throw as much as we can at it and see what happens. Some people pray and hope for a miracle, I've tried that, and I know I'm not a good Christen, but that's not supposed to matter is it. Perhaps I'm too pragmatic, but what the hell, we've tried everything else, more money, more research, I don't care if some drug company wants to make a buck, lets find a cure!
I know the last thing I want to hear is that one of you, or your loved ones has been diagnosed with cancer, and I would suspect that at least one or two of you would not want me to be told I have cancer.
Here I am more than a month after and feeling quite normal. I no longer cringe when I see a bicycle seat. So I was asked, will I do it again in 2011? I don't know, it's too far off to tell, but for sure I will be doing something, whether it's the ride, or the walk, or perhaps I'll become a volunteer and help people along the route...
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Gordon
I wasn't so much tired as I was engulfed in images from the weekend. I mean, yes my bum hurt, almost to the point it was numb. But my muscles had long ago stopped complaining.
I wanted to do something, but didn't know what to do. Food was on the way, so I couldn't linger too long. Yes food, another beer, and perhaps a bit of sleep. I did have to work after all.
Originally I had thought of taking a vacation day and staying down in Niagara, but what a waste of a perfectly good vacation day, I'd much rather go in to work and suffer quietly.
Well, if you've managed to read this far, Congratulations! But more importantly, I'd like to thank you for your support.
You all have different reasons for supporting me, there is no right or wrong reason. Some I believe, remember Vicky and do so in her memory, others because they believe in the work done by the Princess Margaret Hospital, others still who may question the need to raise funds, and/or the ability to delivery improvements in cancer care, but you believe in me, and in doing so give your money without hesitation, I couldn't ask for a better commendation from you all.
14.5 Million dollars raised on the ride to Conquer Cancer, June 13/14th.
It is quite an achievement and the money will be well spent. I may have mentioned this before, but I'll say it again anyway.
If it is money that will find ways to better treat cancer, find ways to prevent it, and even find a cure, then let's throw as much as we can at it and see what happens. Some people pray and hope for a miracle, I've tried that, and I know I'm not a good Christen, but that's not supposed to matter is it. Perhaps I'm too pragmatic, but what the hell, we've tried everything else, more money, more research, I don't care if some drug company wants to make a buck, lets find a cure!
I know the last thing I want to hear is that one of you, or your loved ones has been diagnosed with cancer, and I would suspect that at least one or two of you would not want me to be told I have cancer.
Here I am more than a month after and feeling quite normal. I no longer cringe when I see a bicycle seat. So I was asked, will I do it again in 2011? I don't know, it's too far off to tell, but for sure I will be doing something, whether it's the ride, or the walk, or perhaps I'll become a volunteer and help people along the route...
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Gordon
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