After the Ride

How’s your bum today? Never mind, let’s talk about mine. And by bum, I actually mean the part slightly in front of it that sits on a bicycle seat for 226 km and 13 or 14 or I don’t know how many hours. Doing the Ride to Conquer Cancer is like an Irish mother having a baby: it hurts like the dickens, but a year later, you want to do it again.

So it was hellish, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The big Tour-de-France types up at the front say it’s a piece of cake, but it was not. It was a piece of charred gristle, because it was hot. Wicked hot. It was also humid AND windy. I don’t know how it can be both, but it was. And this may come as a surprise to you, but I’m not getting any younger. I’ll let you in on a secret. There’s a big coach bus that follows the riders from pit stop to pit stop. No one pays much attention to it, but amongst the cognoscenti, it’s known as the Quitter’s Bus, and I don’t mind telling you there were a few moments when I eyed it with consideration. After all, I raised the money*, and that’s what matters, right? But no. Mama don’t roll that way. Also, Mama also doesn’t usually speak that way, so forgive me. I’m still dehydrated.

While I’m whining, let me tell you about the yellow flag. Cancer survivors are encouraged to ride with a yellow flag on a long flexible pole attached to their back wheel. It’s inspiring to see the hundreds of survivors riding in the pack, and I normally sport mine with pride. But I swear it slows you down, particularly in the wind. Furthermore, it prevents you from being able to swing your leg over the back of your bike, so you have to awkwardly hoist yourself over the crossbar. Mine also happened to interfere with the release lever, so John had to keep a close eye on it to make sure I didn’t lose my back wheel. Finally, the flag prompts other riders to say “Good for you!” and “Way to go!” as they pass you, which is sweet and kind and encouraging and annoying and irritating all at the same time. My response was usually “Good for you too!” which only confused people.

So it’s over for another year. I’m terrifically proud of my team, my family and yes, myself. The bike is hung up, my jersey’s in the laundry, and I’m looking at other summer sports now: golf, sailing, kayaking … maybe tennis. I used to play tennis. They say it comes back to you, like riding a bicycle. In which case, forget about it.

*Over 5 thousand dollars personally, and over $150,000 for the team. If you sponsored me, thank you from the bottom of my bottom.

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