So there I was out on my nouveau bicycle, pedalling away like mad, all the way up Leslie, thinking for the umpteenth time that my entire body was going to expire momentarily and they'd find my dessicated corpse lying on the side of a ditch in six months' time, looking not my best and completely vexed besides. But then I remembered that this bike cost me close to seven hundred clams, and I'd be damned if I was gonna die before I got that sucker to Montreal. To paraphrase Charlton Heston, they'd have to pry it loose from "my cold, dead hand."
I had an added impetus for riding harder this week; a dear friend of mine who has HIV had a fairly severe relapse on Monday, one that landed him in the hospital. If ever there was a timely kick-in the-butt-incentive for me to ride and train harder, that was it. He's out of the hospital now, and on the mend, but it was scary while it lasted. I suppose its self evident, but things like the PWA Ride for Life always take on more significance for you when its one of your own that's suffering. I hadn't fully realized that before, not really, as incredulous as it sounds. Now I had. Call it coincidence that the year I start up with this ride I begin to meet friends who have HIV, and I become more fully aware of the struggles they face in their health struggles with the disease. I'm not one to look a sign from the gods in the mouth, so this Saturday I kept on pedalling like mad, muttering under my breath (between gasps) up Leslie St., "I get it, I get it. But can't we have just ONE steep downhill rest before my lungs give up the ghost and my ass falls off?"
Sure enough, over the next rise in the hill....
The ride itself was somewhat nostalgic for me, as we went up into areas that I had grown up in and around; Aurora, King City and the environs surrounding. My childhood was spent in King, and it was interesting to see what the changes were. Hills I remember as steep and forbidding and dirt covered were now paved and graded back, no longer steep ski-ramps to try and pedal up. I passed my old grade school, (now a church) and two of my old houses, one just barely visible from the road, and the other right on Keele St. The one house was in terrible shape, but the overhang Dad built was still there, and the big cedar fence he built was there too....
I had the feeling as I rode down Keele, out of King, why we left in the first place. The damn roads were full of potholes!! I got jounced and jolted around so much, I'm sure my spine compressed and I lost three inches in height! Plus, I had forgotten that there is a constant but gentle decline from King City down to Toronto, consequently, the ride back was quite a bit easier than the ride UP. At the halfway point, I said "Screw it" to my track pants and rode the rest of the way in my bike shorts. Normally I don't wear skintight clothing, but my shirt was low hanging enough that I didn't have to worry about too much undue immodesty. Besides, everyone else was wearing them, so it didn't matter. There's a time for modesty and a time for sanity. And passing out from heatstroke while cycling uphill was just not on the sane side of the equation. Off went the pants!!
To that end, I completely forgot about the sun. Bad move. My legs were fine, (sheltered I suppose by my upper body leaning over them) and got just a little reddened, but my arms and tops of my hands got the worst of it. They still sting today, and hopefully by next Saturday, they'll be significantly healed enough to slather in sunblock and ride uncovered again....
As for the other part of this drive, Monday I start fundraising in earnest. I have done some, but I kept putting off hitting up the office until I was closer to the due date, as a lot of them would forget if I told them too soon. But the flyers and whatnot go up tomorrow in all the office kitchens (we have three floors) and I am ready with my schpiel. If I can cycle 74 kms in a little under four hours, I can bleed money from stone.
Speaking of which, here's the secure link if you'd like to sponsor me. Even a little helps so much.
https://secure.e2rm.com/registrant/personalPage.aspx?EventID=5250&LangPref=en-CA&RegistrationID=159931
Oh, and as for what happened over that aforementioned next rise? Yeah, you guessed it; my ass fell off.
3 comments:
"my ass fell off" hmmm.. Robbie should be able to give you some tips on how to keep it on after a good workout. :)
His is plastic, he just puts it under his seat. How many entendres did I just put in that sentence? I think I may have set a record...
Ooops. I totally got that wrong. For some reason I thought James Anok, but said Rob. Now they're both gonna get me in trouble. Its this damn heatstroke, or whatever the hell is wrong with me. Sunburn. Ouch!
Tr.
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