100km Ride: Very First Metric Century

Joy here...On Sunday, August 28th, 2011 I successfully rode my very first metric century; this means that I rode 100kms straight.  It's quite a milestone for a pretty novice cyclist like myself.  Now generally century rides are the 100mile ones, and there are resources out there for people looking to ride that kind of distance, like these blog tips that someone helpfully posted, or Wikipedia's ever-helpful entry on the matter.  But 100kms (62.1miles) makes up a metric century ride, a category all its own, and a category none too shabby, if I do say so myself!

Now you might be wondering why the heck I would wake up on a Sunday morning at the end of August and hop on my bike for hours and hours of cycling to ride 100kms.  Well, I'll tell you about it:

You see, back in July 2009, five cyclists were out for a ride, using the clearly marked bike lane in one of the suburbs of Ottawa.  They were training; they were wearing helmets; they were riding single file; they knew what they were doing.  But none of that matters if a mini-van driven by someone not paying attention (drunk???) veers into their lane and ploughs over all five of them.  When a collision happens between a bike and a car, the bike always loses.  The cyclists suffered all kinds of injuries, but miraculously they all survived, and the media dubbed them the "Kanata 5" after the area where they were hit.

Fast forward two years:  The Trainer has become friends with two of these five survivors, a couple whose story of love, resilience, and recovery is the stuff of hollywood movies writ large across real people's lives.  Through her, I've been able to meet these inspiring folks, and when three out of the five cyclists signed up for the local Share the Road 100km ride to raise awareness of the need for cars and bikes to respect each other on roadways, I decided to join them.  The Share the Road events were launched after the founder (a strong woman named Eleanor McMahon) lost her husband in 2006 when he was killed in a cycling accident.  She's been working tirelessly since then to advocate for change to Ontario's laws, and "Greg's Law" (named after her husband) was passed in 2009, which has tougher penalties for careless drivers.  Eleanor was quoted as saying:  “Driving is a privilege, and not a right. Our hope is that holding unlicensed drivers to account by impounding their vehicles will be a powerful deterrent.”

My Share the Road jersey.

So a whole group of us - including The Trainer and The Professor - got up on a windy Sunday morning while hurricane Irene battered the east coast and flooded New York City and loaded up our bikes to head out to the meeting point in order to ride 100kms in honour of the important message behind the Share the Road coalition (the name says it all, doesn't it?).  Some of the cyclists doing this ride in our group are friends of the "Kanata 5," and some are spinning instructors at the Trainer's gym, but no matter what drew this group of 12 together on a day that was borrowed from autumn and chilly beyond comfort, we soon clicked.

What a great group!

We rolled out of the parking lot in two rows of six, with a couple of the stronger riders on the front to set the pace.  Our legs were fresh; our bellies were full of breakfast; and we had the camaraderie of the hundreds of other riders out there under a clouded sky that hung ominously over our heads and sent gusts of wind to play with our balance.

Then, about 25kms into the ride one of the spinning instructors started powering up one of the hills, and I could hear the Trainer in my ear shouting at me to chase her down, so I just started turning those pedals as fast as my little feet could turn them so that I could blow past this powerful woman up ahead of me, whose strong legs pumped like pistons, up and down up and down up and down.

And just as I felt myself pass her and reach the zenith of the hill...disaster struck!  She blew a flat tire!  I was still riding along ahead, pedalling slowly and waiting for everyone to catch up, when some of the other riders who were part of the Share the Road ride, rode past me shouting "Go back, they've got a flat!"  So I turned around in the road and joined our crew at the curb.

As the more experienced bike tube changers struggled at the side of the road, the rest of us took the opportunity to snack a bit and move around to prevent goosebumps.  Then once the old tube was taken out and the tire back in place, it was time to pump it up.  They used a CO2 cartridge to quickly push air in to inflate it, when we heard a loud BANG like a gunshot!  We all jumped, with our hands to our hearts before we realized that the CO2 cartridge blew the replacement tube...so they had to start the process of changing the tire all over again...taking around 30 minutes in total.

Once the tire was finally replaced, we rolled out, now at the very end of the hundreds of Share the Road riders.  But at least that meant that by the time we made it to the first pit stop for a potty break (about 3kms down the road from the tire changing spot), there wasn't a big line up.

After that, we were off again, riding solidly in formation with two people on the front and rows behind them.  For most of the ride I stayed in the first four riders, doing my share of leading as well, but I also held back a bit and chatted with some of the others in our group.  I rode with two of the other riders who had been hit back on that fateful July day, but I didn't want to talk to them about the past or about the accident.  I didn't want to fetishize them as "victims" or "survivors" but just chat to them in the "here and now" while out on a chilly Sunday ride, my first ever metric century.

And they were lovely...everyone out there on the ride was really just lovely.  It was a great group of folks getting battered by the wind howling across the country fields, but still managing to smile and crack jokes.  It was a group of people who didn't all know each other at the start, but who felt like they knew each other by the end.

After the 50km turnaround point (and 2 hours of riding, not counting the 30minute tire pop break), it was a much tougher ride.  The wind was stronger, colder, and angrier.  The clouds hung light grey over our heads, never really threatening rain, but making the day feel somehow closed in, despite the openness of the landscape.  And at each turn when we would think, "finally, maybe we'll get a tail wind," it seemed like the wind just whipped around and started battering us from the front or the side again!

Bike computer evidence of 102.77kms!

What do you do when you're 70kms into a 100km ride and the edges of a hurricane storm system are battering you around the road?  Well, you just put your head down, turn your pedals and JUST KEEP GOING!  You know what?  That's a great mantra for life too...just keep going; just keep going; just keep going.

And so we just kept on...and at the final hill near the parking lot at the end, I was following a couple of riders, and I figured that I might as well power right past them to the top of the hill and then turn into the parking lot, and I was surprised to know that I had more than enough gas in my legs for that last push.  As I rolled into the finishing area, I saw The Man off to the side on his bike.  He rode out to meet me at the end (and had to wait because of our unforeseen delay with the tire), and was there to support me at the end of my first ever metric century!  (Which meant that his Sunday ride was a total of 130kms that day, but this entry is about me, not him!).

After hugs, smiles, pats on the back, and promises to become lifelong Facebook friends, we loaded our bikes up and headed home for a much-needed hot shower and some relaxation as the day wanes.

The pink sunset to close out a windy Sunday ride for a cause!

And let me tell you, I earned that glass of wine that I enjoyed after dinner!  I earned every sweet drop of it by successfully completing my very first metric century ride!

Over and out,
Joy

The Pink Ladies Conquer Pink Lake

Joy here...Last Friday some of the super sisterhood rode up the steep hill to the Pink Lake lookout, and high fived ourselves with our triumph!  Then rain foiled our plans for a full double-loop of the park on Sunday, and I was out of town for the rest of the week.  And if you've read any of my other entries, you'll know that I routinely fail to keep my workouts steady when I have to travel for work.  So predictably, even though I was all set and ready to run, my shoes stayed in my suitcase, and I spent 3 days eating wrong; being stuck in meetings; and generally getting thrown out of whack.

My pink feet all ready to go!

All of that was set to change yesterday as my friends, Cili Padi and the Trainer, were set to ride up that Pink Lake climb with me.  And not only were we going to ride up it once, but we were set to tackle that climb TWICE!  You see, back when I was training for my first ever half marathon, I was introduced to the notion of hill repeats, basically that's where you run up a steep hill over and over again to build strength.  And, well, you can do that on a bike just as well as you can on your feet, so Friday's ride was all set to be our first hill repeat on a bike.  We dressed ourselves up in pink, slathered on the sunscreen, headed out the door to ride amongst the Friday morning commuting traffic, and made our way to the park to begin our Pink Ladies Power Ride.

Me dressed in pink and ready to go!

Now, I know, you might be wondering why I've gone nuts with this whole "pink" thing.  I know that most self-respecting feminists (as Nomi and I and the majority of our friends would consider ourselves) balk at the gender-role stereotyping informing the very use of the colour pink.  Feminists flee the notion of pink princesses and barbies as representing the sum total of female accomplishment or worse yet, femininity.  Feminists would cry out:  Surely what it means to be a woman, what it means to be female, what it means to be feminine isn't reduced to pink, cotton-candyesque fluff.  And they (or we) would be right.  Pink and all its silly connotations of bubblegum and  puerile girlishness cannot come close to encompassing what it means to be a girl or woman in the world. But just as various other marginalized groups have reclaimed previously-damaging words and images, reappropriating them and redefining them (think here of the "N" word's appearance in contemporary music; or the reclamation of "queer" as a word of pride, not a pejorative etc.), I am also on a quest to ironize and reclaim pink for girls and women everywhere!

My pink bike computer!

Pink doesn't have to be relegated to those who unthinkingly have become victims of society's investment in the objectification of women.  I will wear pink, and I dare anyone out there to merely see me as a weak object of either desire or mere silliness!  I will wear pink, and I will power up that Pink Lake climb with the burn in my quads and my breathing laboured to make sure that I'm squeaking out every last bit of strength from my body, pushing myself to the limits to see how fast I can go as the hot sun beats down on me and the chill wind cools my sweat with each heavy push of my pedals.  And I will chase down the Trainer (not dressed in pink, but wearing pink in her heart nonetheless) and pass her, both of us pedalling hard and strong, our quads and calves flexed to their maximum as we grind up the hill.  And Cili Padi will choose not just to do only one repeat up the hill as planned, but will power up a second time, wearing her pink jersey (just for me!), and promising herself that each inch of pain she suffers through up that hill gets her that much closer to fitting into her beautiful, Italian suede pants.  And the three of us will reach the top of the climb after two hill repeats, and we'll chat and catch our breath and revel in how strong we've become; at the start of the season it was all we could do to make it to the top of the climb once, before turning around and making our limpy way home.

Pink Lake: the climax of our climb!

Now we can ride strong and hard twice up that hill before celebrating and choosing to take the long way back afterwards...the long way that also includes a congratulatory stop at the coffee shop!

So next week, these powerful pink ladies will aim to complete three hill repeats up Pink Lake on Friday morning and two full loops of the entire park on Sunday morning.  They won't be kept down by silly gendered expectations; they won't be kept down by society's double-standards; they won't be kept down to be "ladylike"; and they won't be kept down because they just might wear pink!

They might, however, be kept down by the weather, so let's all keep our fingers crossed that it doesn't rain and storm next week!

Remember, it was the power of the original Pink Ladies
that gave Sandy the strength to tell Danny,
"you're the one that I want!"

So, here's to Pink Lake repeats, to pink ladies, to being stronger today than yesterday, and to friendship!

Over and out,
Joy

Ride Hard, Ride Hot

Joy here...The Professor, Power Penna, and I all decided to sneak out of work early on Friday afternoon and get a jump start on our weekend by doing a power ride up to the Pink Lake lookout and back at 3pm.  When The Professor and I reached the parking lot at the start of the park under a hot, afternoon sun with the mercury tipping 30 C, Power Penna was nowhere to be found, and we discovered that she was running late and wanted us to get started without her.  So we took a big swill of our water to get ready for the hard climb in the height of the daytime sun, and off we pedalled.

The sky was a bright, swimming pool blue stretching on for infinity over our heads, and the afternoon sun made the world crisp and bright, painted in sharp, high relief colours and shapes.

But we saw none of that.  We just saw the road at our feet and the trees beside us whizzing by as we pushed the pace.  I tried to keep my speed as high as I could, while keeping my pedalling consistent.  Instead of pedal pedal pedal coast coast pedal pedal pedal coast... on the flats, I put my bike in its big gear and tried to see how I could push myself.  And then at the start of the real climb up to Pink Lake I kept my pace between 15kms/hr and 11kms/hr by the end at the steepest part.  It took me 5mins from the start of the climb to the parking lot to grind up that section, and when we arrived back in Canada after our trip to Malaysia, where I didn't ride my bike at all, it took me 8mins to complete that climb.  So in less than 2 months, I've shaved 3mins off my time on that particular section of the park.

Nice tan lines!

After The Professor and I drank some more water and congratulated ourselves on making it up that steep climb that used to be so daunting, so impossible, so painful, we turned around for the fun part:  DESCENDING!  And as we were going downhill we saw Power Penna grinding uphill, making it all look easy.  I swear, even in the heat under the blistering sun, I don't think she was breaking a sweat as she pedalled solidly upwards.  As we passed each other, she yelled..."sorry, I missed you guys...." and I yelled..."it's okay, I got your message..." and that's all we had time for as we went in our opposite directions riding hard and riding hot on a bright, summer afternoon when it's great to be fit and healthy and out in the world with friends.

When I got home and stripped off my cycling jersey and poured myself a nice, cold drink, I realized that one of the results of a hard, hot ride under an August sun that shows the world in all its brilliance are some tan lines, despite spf 30 sunblock!  I'm now sporting some pretty visible lines down my back, and I guess I won't be wearing a fancy, strappy sundress anytime soon, but I guess that price that I pay in the currency of fashion is worth the fun of getting out there and powering both up and downhill on a beautiful day before the peak of summer decides to turn to the descent into fall.

Over and out,
Joy

Power Ride in Honour of the Fakawi Tribe!

Don't mess with the Fakawi Tribe!

Joy here...Back in the 1990s Nomi's man and my man used to mountain bike together.  On one of their epic jungle adventures in the Malaysian rainforest, they were covered in mud and sweat from head to toe, and looked at each other and exclaimed "Where the f__k are we?"  And with that little question, the Fakawi Tribe was born ("we-are-the-fakawi?").

Nomi's husband has taken that spirit of cycling and adventuring and developed an entire Fakawi network.  He's a bike dealer; he organizes races; he sponsors racers; he has jerseys, and he is the grand puba of it all...The Mighty Fakawi Chief.

In our own, little way, we've taken the Fakawi Tribe on the road - literally (on our road bikes) and figuratively (all the way to Canada). We've imported the Fakawi Tribe not just with the jerseys (pic at left), but also with that Fakawi spirit of getting out there on a bike and giving it your all with a big, fat smile on your face even as your legs are screaming, and you don't know what's around the next corner.

It was in that spirit of fun and power that The Professor and this Ex-Professor headed out this morning for a quick ride up to the Pink Lake Lookout and back again.

The start of our Fakawi-inspired bike ride!

So we met at 7am-ish when the sun was high, the sky blue, and the air a bit chilly, and got ourselves over to the park for our power ride up the steep climb.  We rode for the first half of the ride (around 20kms) with the sun at our backs, casting our shadows long in front of us, so it seemed as though we were always chasing that shadow self ever pedalling just that bit faster at our feet, always out of reach.

I rode up the climb at around 13kms/hr topping my speedometer at just over 14kms/hr at one point.  When I last did this ride with the professor and the trainer,  I rode hard and kept my speed up above 12kms/hr up the same climb, but never quite broke the 13km/hr mark.  But powering up it at 13kms/hr this time seemed almost easy.  My legs have that little, extra bit of power thanks to our 83km,  two-loop ride of the park on Sunday, and the spirit of my Fakawi jersey giving me that extra boost!

The Fakawin' mid- and turn-around point of our ride!

Once we turned around to head back down that hill at speeds topping 60kms/hr, the sun was no longer at our backs casting shadows before us, but rather it was right in our eyes.  As we rode into the bright sun the leaves and trees lining the road were cast in black silhouette as if carved in onyx.  We turned our legs and tucked our bodies as we whizzed through a world of sharp contrasts - black silhouetted scenery and blinding sunlight.  And when we pulled up to the parking lot at the park's entrance, we were pleasantly surprised by just how quickly we had been able to pull off this little Wednesday morning Power Fakawi ride.

The parking lot at the end of our Fakawi ride!

With just under 40kms in our legs, door-to-door, we completed about 80minutes of hard bike riding in the early morning, and were home and showered before 9:30am.  What an accomplishment for a Wednesday morning!  So I challenge all of you to get out there and do something tough, but rewarding, as your Fakawi challenge of the day!  Then you can tuck your inner Fakawi spirit inside and be a responsible, grown up professional for the rest of the day...and only you and your Fakawi Tribe partner in adventuring will know that you started your day with a super power move!

What's your Fakawi power move today?

Over and out, 

Joy

A Rwandan Story...well worth a read...

Joy here...While SK couldn't join us for our epic two-loop bike ride through the park this Sunday, she did share an article about cycling from the New York Times with all the "sisterhood" via email.  I suggest it as a must-read for anyone.  I think that each of us who read it likely didn't get to the end without tearing up a bit.

Here is the front page photo and caption:

“This is the land of second chances,” the coach of Team Rwanda says. The riders—Hutus and Tutsis—find that cycling gives suffering a purpose. Above, team members compete in the Tour of Rwanda, in November, 2010.

Karma Baby! (Or, the Super Sistas and the Double Loop of the Park)

Joy here..."Team Sunday," including the "sisterhood" (me, Cili Padi, Power Penna, the Professor, and the Trainer), were all set for a bike ride in the park this morning (we were only missing SK who was out of town).  We talked this week and decided that we've done enough single loops of the park, and we're probably ready to tack on another loop that includes the big climb up to Fortune Lake (up to the Champlain Lookout, a spot which has featured prominently in many photos on this blog).  It would add another 21kms of climbs and hills to our regular ride, making a 4-hour door-to-door bike ride more of a 5-hour door-to-door bike ride.  All the "sisterhood" were game to give it a try, so we all made sure to eat a whole lot on Saturday night, and pack up extra food and water for the ride on Sunday morning.

But the weather network was calling for thundershowers.

We woke to clear roads and skies that were hard to interpret, cloudy and ominous in some places and blue and clear in others.  But, still, the weather network issued its warnings, trying to convince us to put aside our cycling kit, sit tight, and stay indoors.

Clear road, clear skies, and good karma!

Already this summer we learned the valuable lesson, which is never to listen to the weather network, and what good is a lesson learned if it remains a lesson unheeded?  So heed that lesson we did, and despite the warnings of thundershowers beginning at the start of our planned ride and continuing right on through the morning, we met up with everyone, and looked up to the skies that hadn't opened up yet wondering if we should be conservative or carry on.  Then the Trainer smiled and said, "it won't rain on us, we have too much good karma!"

And so with that positive thought ringing in our ears and settling into our hearts and minds as we pedalled away from the meeting spot and towards the park itself, we smiled and felt good.  After all, she's right, we DO have good karma.  If karma is the notion that the deeds we do set off "cause and effect" reactions with wide-reaching ripples, bringing good back to those who are good, and ultimately biting the not-so-good ones in the @$$, then, surrounded by the "sisterhood," The Man, and Superdave, all ready for a good ride in the park on a Sunday morning, we had more than our fair share of goodness to go around.

Two roads diverged...and I - I took the
one less traveled by.

We rolled into the parking lot in the usual fashion, filled up our water bottles as usual, and got ready for a loop of the park as usual.

But this Sunday's loop wasn't going to be usual at all.

There's nothing usual or ordinary about two loops of the park for the "sisterhood."  While The Man and Superdave may ride multiple loops of the park on a regular basis, it's not something the rest of us have done.  And, seriously, it's not something that many people would set out to do.  How many folks do you know get up on a Sunday morning, looking forward to riding around 83kms over hills?  How many folks do you know prefer to wake up before the sun has risen to get ready for a bike ride rather than sleep in?  You get the point.  We're weird.  But in a good way.  In a way that gives us that good karma that the Trainer was talking about.  And so, I'd rather be weird, and I'd rather set my sights on a two-loop lap of the park on my bike on a summer Sunday morning than not.  After all, didn't Robert Frost once write that he took the road less traveled "and that has made all the difference"?

Cyclists chasin' down cyclists!

So today's ride was a ride with a difference.  It was a girl-power ride in the extreme!  We started off strong and rode up the Pink Lake climb with Superdave and The Man, feeling good and powerful the whole way.  Then, throughout the ride, over certain rolling hills and climbs or down twisty descents we would pull a "power move" and pull away from the group to stretch our legs and test our muscles.  Power Penna and the Trainer raced each other for a bit, and every now and then I'd set my sights on them up the road and chase them down.  I'd feel the pain in my quads as I forced the pedals to turn faster faster faster as they got closer closer closer, but it was a good kind of pain.  The kind of pain that lets you know your body is working and that you're alive in the world, and that the skies haven't opened up and stormed all over you to prevent you from having these feelings.

The turnaround - turn right to go home,
or left to continue on.  We turned left!

And our bodies were working just fine this Sunday morning, when the rain seemed to fall all around us, leaving the roads wet, but the skies clear for us.  We didn't get rained on once.  It was hot.  It was humid.  But it was not rainy.  Those thundershowers were nowhere to be seen as we finished our first loop of the park with cheers, turned left, and started up on loop #2.

Good fortune and good karma (literally) all day long!

You know what?  That second climb up to Fortune Lake (the steepest part of the routine climb that normally we only have to suffer through once per ride, but that this week we were tackling head-on twice), turned out to be easier the second time through.  Our legs seemed to be more loose and less full of lead.  Our cranks turned with a little more pep.  Our cadence was just that little bit higher.  And our breathing...well, okay, our breathing was just as laboured and heavy as ever.  I mean, who am I trying to kid?  It's a hard climb up a steep hill!  But we did it!  We ALL did it!

When we regrouped at the top of that climb, we whooped and cheered; we fist pumped and rocked-on, and then we just kept on pedalling under skies that still hadn't opened up.

Our good fortune and good karma stayed with us, keeping us dry, safe, and having a whole lot of fun.  We hit top speeds of over 60kms/hr on some of the downhill sections, tucking our bodies tightly over our bikes like downhill skiers and feeling the breeze blow through our clothes and cut the humidity just for a moment, and by the time we reached the parking lot at the bottom of loop #2 (for a total of loops #14 and 15 for the season so far), we were justifiably thrilled with our accomplishment.

And we looked up to the skies over head and the shining sun and no sign of the threatened thundershowers, and the Trainer just smiled her knowing smile, and said, "hey, that's karma baby!"

Over and out,
Joy

"Thank Goodness It's Friday" Ride

Joy here...Yesterday morning The Man, the professor, the Trainer, and I all met up at 8am for our TGIF ride out into the countryside around Ottawa.  The whole ride was a 50km out-and-back ride on flat, country roads.  We began on the bike path close to our house...

Getting the ride started...

...and then we hopped off the curb and onto the road with the rest of the cars and began our ride in earnest, keeping our pace at around 30kms/hr and sticking to the right side of the road so that cars could whizz past us.

And whizz past us they did.

Most gave us a wide berth as cars are legally compelled to do when confronted with cyclists sharing the road with them, but some were fairly oblivious to the fact that driving at 60kms/hr only 30cms away from a cyclist creates a fair bit of wind and drag that can be dangerous.  Basically, I didn't enjoy one moment of it.  While there was beautiful scenery to either side of the road of us, country fields coming to life in the bright, August sun and even the odd horse pushed up against a fence to greet us with interest and ears pointed forward, I barely registered it all.  I just kept feeling like I was riding to the ride, rather than in the midst of a ride itself.

See what I mean about the crappy road quality?

What I mean by that is, I realized that I don't mind riding around cars, by cars, and among cars, for a short portion of a bike ride.  If that's what it takes to get to somewhere beautiful (like the park where I do all my loops), then I'll take it.  And if Friday's ride involved cars for the first portion until we reached some lovely, deserted country roads, then I would have taken it in my stride, smiling and pedalling all at once.

However, that was not the case.

We just rode on a street with lots of traffic and terrible road quality for 25kms.  It was about an hour straight of uncomfortable, bumpy riding with cars going past us quickly.

And while I can pat myself on the back as a novice cyclist who didn't lose her cool, didn't fall off, and didn't get upset by all those cars, I can't pat myself on the back for feeling 100% at ease, because I certainly didn't.

A deserted, country road.

After our turnaround point, we took a slightly different route home, one that did involve one, small stretch with more deserted country roads (that were still pretty bumpy and in bad shape, but at least devoid of cars for the most part), I still couldn't really shake the feeling that I was just trying to "get through" our little TGIF ride rather than enjoy it for its own sake.

And after we were finished with that one stretch of deserted country roads, we then turned on the Airport Road to get back into the city.  Here the situation was the opposite of those country roads:  the road quality was fantastic -- new asphalt, smooth riding, paved shoulder -- but the traffic was intense.  There are two lanes of traffic on that road, and because it's a highly used thoroughfare both to the airport itself and to some of the surrounding suburban areas, there are always cars coming in both directions, which means that even if the cars riding beside you on your bike want to give you a wide berth, they can't really, because they'd be pulling into oncoming traffic.  So we all just had to make the best of it in that situation, riders and drivers sharing the road and hoping for the best.  And I, for one, have a healthy fear of drivers in that context.

Such a healthy fear of drivers, in fact, that after Friday's ride, I've decided to join a local ride on August 28th that is designed to raise awareness of cyclists on the road:  Ottawa's Share the Road Ride.

The TGIF riders!

And after getting home, I sighed a big sigh of relief, which is really at the heart of any "Thank Goodness It's Friday" sentiment, but for me, my sigh meant "Thank Goodness my Friday's Ride is Done."

Over and out,
Joy

Finding Different Reasons to Run...

Joy here...If you've read some of the entries over the last year on this blog, then you'll be familiar with the many ups and downs both Nomi and I have had with our running.  For me, I've struggled with motivation issues; I've struggled with reaching training goals; I've struggled with finding time with travelling and work to still be able to run; I've struggled with the weather; and one of the things that has always come through as a shining beacon of light at the end of the dark tunnel of my many struggles has been my friends.

Of course, first and foremost among them are The Man and Nomi herself, but along the way, I've been very grateful to my cycling friends, my "sisterhood" - SK (who started riding loops in the park with me last year and has continued this year), Cili Padi (who is a sixty-something cycling inspiration), our trainer (who is now also our friend), the Professor (a new and fast friend), and Power Penna (who has pulled her daughter through the park TWICE with me, and countless other times when I wasn't there to witness in awe) - as well as to our inspirational Ironman friends Simon and Bryan, and I've been grateful to my running friends - Lulu with her endless enthusiasm and AK with her years of running triumphs - and now I have realized yet another way that sport and friendship can be intimately intertwined.

You see, this past spring, just before we headed to Malaysia, we found out that one of our good friends in Ottawa was diagnosed with breast cancer.

As a friend, what do you do with that information?  What can you do?  How do you support someone?  How do you help them?  How do you work to make change?  What avenues are open as a bystander?  I've been struggling with these thoughts.  Not just how to support my one, individual friend, but also how to support the countless women and their families who have battled or are battling cancer.  One of the things I can do is sign up for the CIBC Run for the Cure.  It's a breast cancer fundraiser and awareness run.  The least I can do is run 5kms, right?

I mean, she's got the hard work cut out for her of battling cancer.  It's a very small thing to raise some money and run in support of her and all the women out there who are fighting (and even those who have sadly lost their fight).  If you want to donate to this worthy cause, you can do so through my friend's page through the Run for the Cure, because she'll come on out and run with me...and I'll carry her if I have to!

So wish me luck, as I put on my barefoot running shoes and get out there on Sunday, October 2nd to run and support my friend!

Over and out,

Joy

Learning, "Lazy," and Lucky Loop #13!

Starting the ride under ominous skies....

Joy here...My friend, SK, coined the term "Team Sunday," but she and some of the other "sisterhood" who make up that group sometimes get out mid-week too.  You see, now that my running has seemingly been folded into my riding, I'm trying to do two loops of the park per week and even sneak in another flat-ish ride as well if possible, for a total of around 180kms of riding/week (if I can).  And then I like to mix a couple of short, 10-minute, barefoot runs in there too.  I figure this won't necessarily give me the targeted fitness for a fall marathon (a goal that I've said good-bye to, sniff sniff), but hopefully it will give me some all-around fitness as a solid base upon which I can build some future goals.

...the start of the big climb...

That said, not everyone is able to get out mid-week to go for a long bike ride.  Luckily for me, I am now self-employed after leaving the wonderful world of academia, so my schedule is flexible.  Cili Padi is retired, so she can ride whenever she wants, and her husband (Superdave) is a music teacher and also works for the government, and he has fixed hours often in the late afternoon/evening, which allows him to ride a lot during the days; the professor and the trainer also have pretty flexible schedules right now, because the professor isn't teaching again until September, and the trainer is able to keep her Fridays clear of clients to take it as a day for herself; The Man, like the professor, doesn't start teaching again until September, so he's got some flexibility; and Power Penna's schedule is a little tighter, because she's a letter carrier, so her mornings are usually full, but sometimes she can sneak out in the afternoon.

...All the way up in the clouds!

All of us with jobs that allow us to ride our bikes and enjoy the summer sun leaves only SK with a traditional "office job" where she's supposed to show up and sit at her desk to do her work during regular working hours.

However, this Thursday, she decided to tell her office that she'd be "working from home," and came out for an early morning bike ride with Cili Padi, the professor, and me for loop #13 of the season through the park.

...stopping by the lake on the ride down...

In order for her and the rest of us to feel good about her sneaking in a few hours on the bike before starting her work day from home, we decided to make sure that she was able to do some double-duty...i.e. we wanted her to work while she rode!

One of the things that is required of her job is bilingualism.  As a Canadian federal government employee, she needs to be able to function in both English and French.  And lucky for her, Cili Padi is French Canadian.  Her langue maternal (mother tongue) is French.  As well, the professor works at a bilingual university that requires English and French of its tenured and tenure-track professors.  And while my French is rusty, it's locked there in the back of my mind somewhere (and usually comes out once I've had a glass or two of wine to loosen my tongue).  So as we turned our pedals under the darkening sky that threatened rain the whole time we were out there and blew cold winds over us, giving us goosebumps (chair de poule), we tried to make French the theme of the day!

...Success!  Now we can begin the (mostly) flat ride home.

So as we rolled into the Champlain Lookout, high above the Ottawa Valley and the start of the great Canadian Shield, SK proudly announced that on her way up, she learned the French word for lazy, "paresseux."  And I, for one, think that's a job well done, and a good morning's worth of work.

Nous ne sommes pas des femmes paresseuses.

Over and out,

Joy

Cyclists in the Mist

Joy here...This morning "Team Sunday" got up early to get our weekly loop of the park underway.  The weather network was forecasting thundershowers, and none of us knew whether our ride would be on or not.  None of us were willing to ride in the midst of a rain storm.

But 7am came, and while the clouds were hanging heavily above, they hadn't opened up yet, so we hopped on our bikes and made our way to the park for loop #12 of the season.

The low-hanging mist on the horizon, but no rain.

The milkwater sky hanging low over our heads.

The day was humid and heavy, and the sky hung white and low overhead like the thick cream that rises to the top of a milkmaid's bucket first thing in the morning.  It was atmospheric and misty, like a scene from the Lord of the Rings, and we rode forward amidst the low-hanging haze as if riding through clouds.  On we rode, me, the trainer, the professor, Cili Padi, The Man, Superdave (Cili Padi's husband), and our friend who has pulled her daughter through the park before (who we've now dubbed Power Penna because of her powerful legs that pump like pistons as she pedals).  Lined in a moving, whizzing row, we filed our way through the mists.

Power Penna pulling away from me!

Power Penna hasn't been able to join the rides lately, and her husband has come instead while she stayed at home with their daughter.  But I can tell you that her brief break from loops in the park has had little to no effect on her fitness.  She's truly remarkable on the bike.  She is smooth and comfortable, and the bike moves as an extension of her extremely powerful legs.  She goes down the descents at break-neck speed, getting low over her handle bars and dropping like a stone.  I might be able to climb up the hills and get some space between me and her, but then on the downhill, I don't stand a chance!  So it was good to have her back joining the ride for this Cyclists in the Mist experience (with a nod to Dian Fossey).

The dawn mist hanging over the lake.

The view from Champlain Lookout...low-hanging clouds.

So as I rode up the hard climb to the Champlain Lookout with the trainer and Power Penna by my side (Cili Padi and the professor had ridden up the rode like they had wings on their bikes and were waiting for us up top), we enjoyed each other's company, and more than that, we enjoyed the fact that we had pulled ourselves out of our beds and into the mist to ride in a world shaped by a fantasist's imagination or an impressionist's paint brush.  


While each of us had toyed with the idea of cancelling the morning's ride because of the weather forecast, each of us couldn't be happier that we actually got out there and pulled off a beautiful ride in a mist-filled world.


And so you might be wondering what is the moral of today's story?  What is the point of today's blog post?


It's simple really:  Don't trust the weather network!


Over and out, 
Joy

Running for fun and the need for speed...

Joy here...As I'm sure you must have noticed, somehow this running blog that tracks how Nomi and I train for running races has turned into more of a cycling blog for July and August (so far) from my end of things.  Nomi is still running away like gusto, with her long run up to 2 hours and 20 minutes, and she's well on track to meeting her goal of a first full marathon this November.  I, however, have fallen off the marathon wagon, but instead of hitting the hard, cold gravel of sportless reality, I have landed on my bike with my legs turning just as furiously as they ever did on my runs.

I think it's fair that I've been charting my cycling here just as I charted my running, because I think that's how it goes when you get into sport...there are ups and downs, and you might find yourself in an "off season" for one sport while picking up another, and you might even find yourself working different and complementary muscles along the way.

And as I've turned my attention more to building some cycling fitness than coherently training for a marathon, I've also turned my running mind from long-distance goals to trying to participate in the barefoot running movement.  So I've been running less and shorter, and trying to do so with minimal foot support.

Just as last summer my half marathon training hit a bump in the road, and I got over that bump by reminding myself that running is supposed to be FOR FUN, this year I've gotten into this barefoot running thing because it's fun.

Who wouldn't want to be one with nature
like this?

So when I went out the door this late afternoon for a 10-minute barefoot run (with my feet only clad in my cute-as-pie Bikila foot gloves) I just let myself have fun.  The Man didn't run with me, so I ran at my own pace (probably faster than I should have) and just let myself relax into the flow.  I heard the slap slap slap of my feet hitting the ground in tune with the whoo whoo whoo of my exhalation as my whole body got into a rhythm of its own - breath in tune with legs, in tune with swinging arms, in tune with turning legs - and I remembered that I really do like running.  Even though it seems like I spend all my time on the bike these days, you don't have to worry that I'll let my running fall away.  Today reminded me that I like it just too darned much to give it up!

Over and out,
Joy

The Professor and The Trainer

Joy here...Back in February The Man and I started doing a once-weekly strength training session with the trainer who owns the gym where I took spinning classes this last winter with my friend Cili Padi.  Since going to Malaysia in May and June our strength training had fallen off the wagon, but we had still remained friends with our trainer.  She lives just up the road from us, and we get along with her really well.    So when I rode in the park for the first time this season back in April, it was her, our trainer, who came along for the ride up to the first scenic lookout, over that first steep hill.  She's also introduced us to another spinning instructor at that gym who we've inducted into our cycling "sisterhood", or what one of my friends, SK, refers to as Team Sunday!  (Thanks SK, the name has stuck.)

The Professor and The Trainer

This new inductee into our little club (that is, of course, wholly inclusive and friendly and only ironically an exclusive club) is a professor at one of the local universities where I did my postdoctoral fellowship.  As of July 1st, I've given up my own job as a professor and started up my own consulting firm, but my heart still has plenty of room in it for academics (heck, The Man is a prof!), and so I'm not surprised that this professor/spinning instructor is becoming a fast friend on these rides.

Now neither the professor nor the trainer were free on Thursday when Cili Padi, our other friend SK (who has the same kind of bike as I do, my fellow Opus rider), and I went for our ride through the park, but both were free on Friday morning for a quick and dirty ride up that first hill, and so I decided to join the professor and the trainer for a power ride.

Here they come in the distance...

The day was a hot one, a good 10 C hotter than the previous morning when I met up with the other two women, and you have to imagine us riding through the sun speckled pathway with the shadows of the leaves making a motley of the world at our feet as the cicadas sang summer all around us like tiny buzz saws.  The air hung humidly on our skin, and we were grateful for a bit of speed that gave us a bit of a breeze.  We chatted as we rode, and once we hit the parkway within the confines of the park, I put my bike into its hard gear and pushed myself to get some speed up.  I went inwards into my imagination as my pedals turned over to a steady rhythm, the pain in my quads growing and letting me know that I was working myself.  I pretended I was in a triathlon, riding all alone out there against the clock, pushing my legs to see what I could do.  I was so into my own imaginings, that when I turned around to look, the professor and the trainer were nowhere to be seen.  So I pulled up to take some pictures and drink some of my water (because I still haven't quite mastered the art of drinking while on the move).

The view from the top of the 8% climb up the hill.

They blew past me, their wheels whizzing like tiny, mechanical insects from a science fiction movie, and I quickly clipped back into my pedals to catch up to them and begin that hard climb up to the Pink Lake lookout.  I passed the lady who had joined up with us in the park; I passed the professor; and then I passed the trainer.  I was back in my own head, pushing my legs like I don't usually push them when I know I have the whole loop of the park to complete.  I kept my speed up at around 12.7km/hr up that climb (when the guys do it, their speed is around 16km/hr usually), and I've never been able to top 11km/hr before, so I knew I was pushing hard.  I made it to the top with plenty of time ahead of the professor and the trainer and took in some much-needed water, huffed and puffed to catch my breath, and smiled to myself at my little achievement.

And then I crossed my fingers in the hope that after such a solid effort up the hill I'd have enough energy to roll back home.

The good news is that I made it back safely and soundly, and so now I know that I can keep on riding even after pushing myself hard.

But my legs are paying for it today.  Going up and down stairs hurt a bit...but I guess it's a good hurt, because it reminds me that I can do more than I think I can, which is always a good thing to learn about oneself.

Over and out,
Joy

Cili Padi: Grey Power!

Joy here...Today's post is a shout out homage to one of my dear friends who comes riding with me in the park where I live.  I've written about her countless times before: like when we went riding last summer and I fell over, and she just gave me a kleenex and didn't laugh at me once; or when I pointed out that she's 60 years old and gave me the courage to ride a loop in the park all by myself for the first time last summer; or when I indicated that she lured me into a spinning class this winter; or when I wrote about our first bike ride this season when there was still snow on the ground; and basically all of July 2011's loops of the park (see the archives for all those entries).  Basically, she'll be 61 this fall, and she looks, sounds, and acts like she's not a day over 35.  The only giveaway is her grey hair.

And as we stood at the top of the Champlain Lookout after riding up those hills in the park, we talked about that fact.  She said that women will clap for her when she runs near her house, or cheer her up those hills in the park, as if she's some kind of invalid.  It drives her crazy - and well it should!  Let me tell you here and now, loud and clear:  DON'T LET AGE FOOL YOU!  She's as tough as nails!  There's a term in Malaysia for someone like her:  cili padi!  A cili padi is a small, but powerful pepper that has quite the kick.  That describes my friend for sure.  So from here on in, she's being christened Cili Padi on this blog!

Cili Padi has become a close friend over the past few years, and in large part I have cycling to thank for that.  Just as Nomi and I got to be adult BFFs largely through our running, Cili Padi and I have gotten to know each other as we grind up those hills and power down the inclines.  She's a real inspiration, and not just because I want to be like her when I'm her age, but because I want to be like her now.  She tackles things with a head-on dedication, and she'll tell you what's on her mind.  She's not afraid of letting kids in the park who are being dangerous know that they should smarten up, and she's not afraid of riding her little heart out.  She shows me how to be serious and fun all at once, and for that I'm very grateful.

And today, Cili Padi reached a maximum speed of over 60kms/hr!  So don't be fooled by her demure stature and grey hair.  That pepper packs a punch!

Over and out,
Joy

PS - In case you were counting, we also finished Loop #11 of the season in the park.  Pretty soon we'll be ready to do a two-looper!