Stories from the Road

The Hubby is quite proud of his special black Ride to Conquer Cancer jersey. While the majority of the 4800 riders in last weekend's event toil along in our regular yellow Ride jerseys, the Hubby dons his black one with "Ambassador" written down one side, happy in the knowledge that he has special ambassadorial qualities.

At the starting gate: Amanda, Beatrice, Barb, Sabina, the Hubby

I have no ill will toward this gross miscarriage of justice because he certainly earned the honour. He did organize the design and making of our team's uniform. Helen actually designed it but the Hubby did organize it all.

The night before the Ride: looking up to the Hubby, just the way he likes it!

 
And he did lead all of our team's training rides. Well, it's probably more accurate to say that he rode ahead of everyone else on our training rides. No need to wait for the team. That's why GPS was invented! Comes in handy when your captain yells "I'll meet you in Streetsville...! Just another 30kms that-a-way...!".

And how exactly did the Hubby think that the team knew where and when to meet for the weekly training rides given that he never actually informed them?! It must be his ability to telepathically communicate that makes him so darned special. And the tips! I emptied my brain to the team of all the knowledge I had from my experience last year! But the Hubby had not one tip to share because he's never done the Ride before! Not that you'd know it looking at his special black Ambassador jersey! But I'm not bitter.

Sabina and me

It was an inspiring sight as we rode west from Toronto to see the road turn into an undulating ribbon of yellow (and one black) jerseys. Good spirits and a sense of camaraderie prevailed as we pedaled our way up seemingly endless hills, through pouring rain, and past hundreds of cheering well wishers lining the route. Two cyclists lighting up and smoking cigarettes while riding baffles with its disrespect. A woman labouring up a hill behind Sabina literally wailing "I CAN DO THIS!" is annoying but inspiring at the same time. One survivor pedals the entire 200km with one leg on a modified bike. The oldest rider at 84 is blind so rides a tandem bike with his cardiologist because he has heart problems too! Sabina, a first-timer and one of the slower riders on our team during training, surprises me at every pit stop as she keeps pace.

Our Team

In the end, the Daughter is unable to do the Ride after falling off her bike and fracturing her elbow. The Boyfriend pinch hits for her and joins the Ride without any training. But because he's young and naturally in good shape as only the young can be, he easily finishes the Ride more than 2 hours before us. Very impressive. And annoying. All at the same time.

The Daughter and the Boyfriend

The Hubby is a machine. Powering up hills with barely a downshift. Barreling through all 200 kilometers hardly out of breath. He can ride circles around me. But he doesn't. I know without a doubt that even though he's far far ahead and out of sight that at one point soon he will appear, either slowly pedaling so I can catch up or waiting for me at the side of the road. So sweet. So Hubby-like. Okay...fine....so Ambassadorial! (I gagged a little writing that).

Jon, Sabina, the Boyfriend, me, the Hubby, Joe, Helen, Matthew, Colin: at the finish line in Toronto

It's always so sweet at the finish. Smiling familiar faces cheering us in. My dad and Sinikka are there. So are my sister and brother-in-law and Scarlett. Relief to be off the butt, on the ground, out of the shoes, helmet-free. 

My niece and most excellent cheerleader Scarlett

The Hubby, the Daughter, the Adolescent, the Beamer and I go out to dinner that night at our favourite neighbourhood restaurant. We sit outside on the patio enjoying the warm evening, feeling tired but accomplished. As the meal is ending our waiter tells us that our entire meal has been paid for by an anonymous stranger in a random act of kindness. Very disorienting at first. But then just really so much appreciated. A wonderful ending to a very meaningful weekend.