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.
