To Scare Yourself

Who came up with that line anyway?

“Do something everyday that scares yourself.”

When I feel the uncomfortable twang I am reminded.

It’s everyday now, although getting somewhat easier and less frequent.

Considered homeless by the Vancouver Marine Police I’ve been relocated to the North Shore for anchorage. Another week and I can go back to the False Creek shuffle.

For another two weeks.

Then I come back again.

It’s amusing in many ways. And difficult too.

I wish I had roots. Access to power. A nearby shower. Laundry.

I’ve asked the Universe. Why me? What have I done that has been so wrong?

In acceptance I have discovered. It’s not what I’ve done that’s wrong. It is the lofty goals I have set for myself.

The Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer 320km Challenge course next month.

Thank goodness it is spring and not winter!

Gingerly I plop the road bike, less the front wheel, derailer side up in the aft end of the dinghy. Gently placing the loaded panniers (complete with laptop) and front wheel in the bow.

Carefully I step to sit so I can row to shore and repeat the process.

Then it’s putting the bike together and setting off.
For what really scares me.

Riding skinny tires in Vancouver. Over the Second Narrows bridge.

Clear glasses have made a difference. Weekly brake adjustments as well.

Experience is starting to show. I can roll the hills with more confidence.

No speed wobbles. Panniers get packed to balance.

What does it make me knowing I scare myself daily?
Stronger?

Perhaps.

Or less likely to search out other ways to scare myself!

Wheel Power

Cycling in Vancouver is a challenge.

I’m used to fairly well paved roads. Shoulders without gravel.

It was just after 8am. Vancouver was still asleep.

The goal. A three-hour minimum training ride. Easy rolling. I figured Richmond.

It was great beating the Starbucks brunch traffic on SE Marine Drive. A few dog walkers. The odd trail runner.

Bliss.

Till the packs started piling up on my tail.

No warning. ZOOM!

Whoopee I thought. Miss that pace line pooper pack ride. So I jumped on. Quickly realizing leaving the scratched clear lensed Ryders glasses at home was a bad idea.

Rocked it till the gravel spray started spewing then I called it.

Fenders or not, crap gets flung.

You've got to be on. Tiny potholes abound.

There was an A and a B. I watched where they went since this was my first ride of this route.

The next group I came up on were clearly inexperienced pack riders. No warnings, stopping suddenly.

I waited till I saw an opening of traffic and railed it past them.

Only to get cooked booking it up a hill. Thankfully to a red light.

Then they turned right. Drat. I was taking the wrong route.

We got hung up again but not until my way home

I discovered Iona Beach on Sea Island. Pretty cool.

Packs and packs of movers out there.

Only one person said hi.

Remember my brother saying that about runners. Nobody smiles. They’re clearly suffering, or not.

In most cases I realized after, when you’re in a pack you’ve got to pay attention to the wheel in front of you and most importantly, to the ruts in the road. Especially in Vancouver.

To keep it going.

Wheel power.

What My Bike Carried For Me

On the ferry!

I love my bikes. All of them.

I used to have three.

Now I’m down to two.

Bikes and boats. Well, that’s another story.

Today I took my roadie for a journey. As I’m away a week and now in gear to get some cross training and particularly some base time in (roadie squeak for easy riding…) I had to pack it all.

The road gear, the gym gear, the swim gear, the yoga gear, the running gear, the sleeping gear, the got to do the Christmas Cranberry Chutney gear, etc.

So with a backpack of computer gear (homework to do too!), thy purse, etc. I loaded her (the red bike) up.

We packed our way to the bus, then the Canada Line and another bus, then a ferry.

The dude at the ramp says to me, “You can ride to the end!”

Ha! I got a chuckle.

Too much stuff!!!

Buy hey; if I didn’t have the rattrap on the back it would have been a real schmozzle.

Looking forward to a roll in the morning.

The Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer training is on!

It’s GO Time!

Ryder Hesjedal speaks to local media in Victoria today.

What a team! For a first year event I’m amazed daily at how things jive. Timing perfected. I'm talking about THE Ryder Hesjedal's Tour de Victoria happening May 28, 2011.

In a moment of hesitation I looked up today to ask a question. It had been a wacky morning. Ryder himself had rolled into town for a brief injection of his spirit. Breathing in motivating moments with the media. A chat on the event. What it has become. A shout-out for volunteers. With a thank you to sponsors.

I needed to confirm a small detail with Tour Director and Olympian himself, Seamus McGrath. We’re in our office at Parkside Resort and Spa. One of our founding sponsors.

Seamo, as he’s known to long-timers, starts an unprecedented ramble on how good a team we’ve got. There’s something for everyone and each individual’s skill fits the pie. Perfectly. Remarkable - truly for a first year event.

I have to concur. It’s what is. And it’s working.

Must be synchronicity.

And timing. The time is so right for something this big in cycling to happen on Vancouver Island. 

Yup! It’s GO time!

Will you be joining us?

Lucky me to have the opportunity to work with such a fabulous team on this the inaugural event. We're expecting up to 1,500 riders this year to enjoy the wonderland of Southern Vancouver Island's epic cycling roads. For more information roll on over to Ryder Hesjedal's Tour de Victoria 
P.S. I really hope you'll ride or volunteer with us!

Hard Work and Power

Straddled the road bike tonight. It’s about time. Putting work before training till today. Hump day. Gotta leave the screen. Dial in on the day.

Been great as I’ve found an inspiring young gal to pedal with. Super supportive of my Lantern Rouge positioning. Always encouraging.

We blast out after 5 p.m. My heart rate’s already revved. I try and hold a breathless conversation. Manage barely to keep pace. Till we attack the killers. Hills that is.

Glenowyn cheerfully rolls back to tag me. I then advise of a plan to meet-up after the big one. Give her some more mileage! Maybe a little recovery for me... (Here’s hoping!)

I’m 3/4s the way up Mr. Big. She rolls down. I nail the thumbs up without dragging too much.

Keeping the happy heart rate (as Glenowyn would say) I conquer too.

Rolling down is fun. You realize how far you’ve climbed.

It’s really over before you know it.

In my own zone I carry on till I see her ahead of me. She’s already done one loop! I pick it up and roll through to our meet-up but within minutes she’s back!

Given our different levels of fitness we worked a pretty good tag team. She got her pace and a little more.

Although there was a few times on the way home where she had to steady up for me. Honestly, I was SO grateful.

As we sped home on the last leg I reminded myself by telling Glenowyn the same.

“Every step and strain you take today is an investment in tomorrow morning’s strength.”

The hard work will give you power.

Being lazy will make you a slave.

Body Talk

Thought I did great last week with training. Managed THREE TripleShot Cycling Club road rides – those guys are super fast! That included Tuesday speed work, Wednesday hills and a Friday mix of 50km. 

By Saturday I rolled out with the usual gang, even though I’d eaten breakfast I felt toasted. Still geared up on Sunday and did a slow roll out to watch the Victoria Cycling Club’s road race.

Monday is “off” so I did my usual work thing with a perfect opportunity to pick a cycling coach’s brain on my training regime.

There were five roadies and one gym session last week. The gymer included core and some balance. When I echoed my achievements, the guru’s head shook.

“Three or four good rides a week will do,” he said. “The body needs to rest and regain.”

My alarm rang this morning at 5:15 a.m. I hit snooze and stretched my mind to believe I was OK to get up and ride.

But the body said no.

Throughout the day I felt guilt. I didn’t get up and roll. What is wrong with me?

I then reminded myself. I’d spent last week on antibiotics for a abscessed teeth. A root canal. An aftermath of yuck from the antibiotics. Unsolved toothaches and pain.

Finally, I forgave myself.

I shouldn’t beat myself up so much.

I was listening to my body talk.

Tuned Into Training

Power in the legs. First time ever. Felt good!

The dudes still led the way. Strong like ox legs pedaled it out. I took his draft at the first little incline. Lasting half way. Better then my norm. I gave out the “Wahhhh” when I dropped off.

Was good to be in the groove for a bit anyway.

“I did something different today,” I pant out to one of the dudes as we continued along.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he replied.

“I ate breakfast.”

This conversation happened before the major long hill grunt. I have to say I was feeling surprisingly perky. A first given what we’d already ridden.

I managed to take a lead in the windy parts. Started to think maybe they all still had snow legs. We’d all been out of regular routine for at least 10 days with the weather.

I battered it out anyway. Made it to the top third in line. Personal best ever! Even the guys looked shocked.

“You should eat breakfast more often,” gasps Warren as he pulls up BEHIND me.

Yup, I was strong.

That was Saturday.

I take Sunday for the big hills. Me, the IPod, the country roads, the deer, the wind, the rain and this Sunday – some hail. It bites you when you’re rolling down a hill at speed.

Had to say as the heart rate rose and the sweat formed, the intensity of my cadence remained unexpectedly consistent.

Could it be the body is now, dare I say it – tuned into training!

Wahoo!!!

A Weekend Roundup

Only one thing I look forward to on the weekends.

That’s going for a long bike ride.

Love the "Let's Bike!" part!

Most favourite part? Not having to rush home to change, shower, eat and run out the door again for - whatever.

The heart, the mind and the body are tuned and tired. Complete with a holding tank full of fresh, clean air.

Yesterday I travelled new roads. Traversed lagoons, seaside scapes -  majestic mountain ranges wavered in the background. I rolled up staunch steep hills, grunting and groaning with each turn of the pedal - an awakening of the senses.

Passing forests, bearded with grafts of green mosses. Streams running through. Rabbits chasing birds. Songs echoing the wavering filters of the leaves of changing tree types.

Some arbutus for sure. Firs, then cedars. Horses clopping along roadside. Sheep gathered in fields. Rolling farmlands. Here, there and then again.

Curbside harvests available for purchase. Locally grown pork, chicken and beef even. Pottery artists. Countryside lanes. Classic cars meandering with their Sunday family drivers.

No one is in a rush.

The odd pack of cyclists wave me by. I pedal on.

Doesn’t matter about the time. I have it.

For that, my health, my family and the environment I live in - I am so grateful.

Giving Back

Anyone ever ask you what your perfect day looks like?

I know mine.

It starts out with a long workout. Something that grinds me to the core. When I’m done I’m lit up like a Christmas tree. With a salt lick on my face.

Every muscle is tired. Not achy. Tired.

I’m relishing the thought of a huge brunch with my fave Kick-Ass coffee.

I’ve digested a lot of fresh air. I’m high.

Yesterday was the perfect day. I started out on road ride with my devote bike store, Pro City Cycle.

As we rolled out I heard, “mellow.” I was okay with that. I’d wrestled with getting my ass out of bed in the first place.

We carry on and I get yakking with another gal, Sandy.

Under an hour later we hit the turnaround for the mellow. I’m feeling I need at least an hour and a half so I bolt to carry on. Sandy joins me. We talk training. She’s doing a triathlon and says she’s got 2.5 hours to put in today. I’m in, but realize I didn’t bring nutrition. She’s got it covered. We’re on.

The perfect way to start the day. We spun 60 kms with a host of varied elevations and came back to the shop in 2.5 hours exactly.

It was a grunt. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and she’s way fitter then I am. But boy, what a delightful way to start the day.

We toasted a kick-butt coffee at the shop and hugged goodbye. She was off to her kids.

Something she’d said during the tail end of our ride really stuck with me. We were both so elated to start the day out so right. She then said something like, “Now that’s I’ve done something for myself, I’m ready to give back to my kids.”

I thought to myself, how sweet. You do something for yourself – like a wicked workout and you’re even more valuable to everyone else. So true.

For giving back.

Cardio Junky

I’m hooked. I am in love with the pack. Riding in a pack. So happy I own a road bike.

My x-husband introduced me to the Triple Shots. They’re 6 am roadies Tuesdays, Wednesday, Fridays and Saturdays and 7:30 am on Sundays.

The meet-up is simple. It’s a, b or c groups. Take your pick. We head. The talking starts. The warm-ups easy.

Tuesdays is speed, Wednesday is hills, Friday’s a bit of both, Saturdays and Sunday a mix but longer in time.

Weekdays it’s an hour and a half finishing with coffee. In most cases double shots.

I get a kick out of the pace. My heart rate climbs. I’m not as fast as most. I wear red. Lantern Rouge (last rider in the Tour de France).

No worries. If I can catch up I jump on someone’s wheel. That’s the thrill. We groove along the seaside. Pace line picks up. I’m hanging on. Drool starts. Nose runs. The heart keeps up. The legs round on. The wheels turn. It’s so exhilarating. I get so thrilled. The feeling of speed, the energy in front. I’m high.

Sweat beads. The grip tightens. I have to stay on. If I loose space I gotta get up and climb. Focus focus focus. Wheel in front what’s ahead and keeping up.

The ride slows near the café. We peel off. By the time I’ve unclipped and off my bike I declare fatigue. Oh my gosh though, I can hardly wait to do it all over again.

I’m thinking maybe I’ve become a cardio junky!

Riding in a Pack

Highway driving will never be the same for me. Had a big chuckle out loud when I hit the Pat Bay Highway this morning on my way to Sidney (yyj). Actually covered my mouth to stifle my laughter. I was trying to follow the car in front me's tire - like in a straight line.
I had had my first experience riding in a pack this morning with the TripleShot Pre Dawn Cafe Destination Cycling Club. Since I’m officially a roady now that I have a road bike, I gave the speed work with the pack a shot.
Insider tippers told me to stay six inches (no less) off the tire in front of me. Stay in line. If you do butt, you’ll stop. No doubt.
It’s a 6 a.m. start and I had a 15 minute ride to the meet-up. So I’m warmed up and off we go. I pulled to the back, introducing myself here and there. We get to the loop and the leader dictates the shuffle speed formation. I go for it. Appreciative of the guy who zooms ahead of me with a “Good work” under his arm. I realize he’s directing that to me and say thanks as I slinker to the very back. That’s ok I reckon to myself. At least I’m givin’ ‘er.
We spin off after four rounds to a waterfront vista and then I feel the real pull when my pair gets to the front. Exhilarating!
When I spill out it’s just in time as the big hill approaches. The infamous King George Terrace. I’ve been crawling up that hill during my own training on the old mountain bike when the pack has glided past me. This time I’m in it. Well, not for long. I’m left behind with three others. Great I think to myself. At least I’m not completely alone.
Then the fun begins. The six foot sixer passes me with a gal close behind and yells over his shoulder, “Get on, Jane.”
I do. I pull into that draft position and cruise the rest of the way to our final sprint around the Petting Zoo at Beacon Hill Park. I’m lagging but manage. Once back on the road our guy Jeremy says to me “Get on Dave’s tire for a final sprint.”
I bang up to him as best I can feeling like I need another high gear. He’s flying. I’m pumping. He gives to me a bit so I can stretch to him to Fisherman’s Wharf, something like a finish line. The heart is beating and I’m feeling like I just did an intense early morning aerobics class. I thank the guys and confirm tomorrow morning’s hills - I’ll be there.
More fun riding in the pack!