Those of you from the Bay Area may be familiar with the
Naked Bike Ride. The name of this ride leaves little to the imagination as it
is just tat—a naked bike ride. Apparently it’s a large group of folks who feel
the need to protest fossil fuels by cycling through the streets of San
Francisco. Naked. I was going to post a link to the website for educational
purposes, but then became very disappointed in myself that I would even
consider Googling “Naked Bike Ride”. I’m sure you can imagine the detailed
search results. If not, I encourage you to look it-up yourself. This is a
cycling blog about curing cancer—and nothing more J
As the very wet and wild workweek rolled on, the weather
forecast for our Saturday ride looked grim at best. Now this weather caused me
some anxiety. Not only does it require courage for me to ride in normal
conditions, but also the thought of riding in rain does not appeal to me one bit.
Come Friday evening, emails were being shot out quicker than a Tim Lincecum
fastball detailing all of the “extras” we would need to ensure a safe and dry
ride. Fantastic! Not only have I spent more than enough on this new hobby already, I am now expected to accessorize my bike and myself to accommodate riding in the
frigid rain. And I'm not talking about the Louis Vuitton type of accessorizing.
Below is a list of items that were suggested for the ride:
- Waterproof jacket (makes sense)
- Full finger gloves (yep, definitely makes sense)
- Bike fender to prevent spraying others (I guess I’ll be considerate)
- Second water bottle cage (Well, I can’t even get one water bottle out of it’s cage while riding, so what’s the second one going to be worth?)
- Second water bottle (see above)
- Under seat “bike wedge” (think bike purse for bike purse things listed below)
- Spare tube (where's AAA to change my tire?)
- Small tire pump (again, AAA is important)
- Showercap (to keep head dry. Huh!?)
- Ziplock bags (to keep feet dry. What?!)
- Ducktape to secure said Ziolock bags on feet (No way!)
Okay—line drawn. If I’m taping plastic bags on my feet, I’m
staying home.
So after a night of tossing and turning, watching the rain
pour and pour and pour, and convincing myself that I shouldn’t even drive down
to the ride, I found myself in the parking lot of Los Gatos high with all of
the other TNT riders in time to depart for a damp, chilly ride. This is where
the not-so-naked part comes in. Not only was my bike decked out with all of my
new (forced) purchases, but I was also sporting more clothing than I ever did
during a night game at Candlestick (Yeah! It was that cold).
We also found that two of the riders on our team could not
make it to this ride. Emily and I were looking forward to a one-on-one coaching
experience when we learned that we would be riding with two additional
coaches—Dan and Kelly—and of course, the head coach, Tom. This turned our small
ride group into a 7-person paceline with Emily and I being the slowest and
least experienced of the bunch. After hearing an inspiring story from another
cancer survivor, and the “don’t cross over the white line or else you’ll eat
it” speech, we were off in hopes of beating the looming black clouds.
This was a nicely paced ride—Emily and I did just fine
“keeping-up” with the fun veterans (more like they probably slowed down a bit for
us newbies). While the hills were few and far between, the storm was kind
enough to dump Mother Nature’s Junk (Sticks. Really big sticks, leaves, dirt,
etc.) in the bike lane. For 32 miles. I’m not sure if it was the weather, but this was a
fairly quiet ride and my energy seemed a bit lower than usual. Unfortunately, I
learned the hard way that if you fail to eat before you are hungry and drink
before you are thirsty, energy is something that is difficult to regain. I made it to the rest
stop (16 miles) before eating a snack, had zero energy and numb fingers from my
new gloves. And I was freezing despite my attempt at non-nakedness.
We only stopped for a few minutes and were on our way. I was
at the back of the pace line thinking to myself, “wow, I’m cold, I have no
energy, and I haven’t learned much this ride”. And that’s when it happened! I reached down,
grabbed my water bottle, took a sip, took another sip, and successfully
returned it back to its cage all while riding! (note: last time I attempted to
do this, I had to give my water bottle to Joe while we were riding down the
Embarcadero because I was too scared and unstable to return it to its proper
home.)
If this was a movie, Space Jam’s I
Believe I Can Fly would be playing in the background and I’d be riding in
slow motion pumping my fists in the air like a champion. It’s the small
victories in life that bring such great pleasure to such a new cyclist.
We returned to our cars before the rain, solidly frozen, and
ready to clean our very muddy bikes. I drove to Petaluma that night and by the
time I got my bike out of the car, I realized I had a flat back tire. Ugh! The worst kind of flat!
Let this be a lesson—when you think you haven’t learned
anything, think harder before actually admitting it. Or else you’ll find
yourself at the local bike shop early the next morning learning how to change
your back tire from the hung-over shopkeeper.
But seriously, this ride was a lesson in appreciating the
small things. Not only did I safely drink out of my water bottle while riding
(very important to staying hydrated!), I hung in there with a faster ride group and completed my longest ride to date. I often feel that it requires a truly difficult situation for people to appreciate life's little wonders. Taking a cue from all of the cancer warriors I know, life always gives you something to learn. You just have to be willing to see it.
GO TEAM!
Please take a moment to visit my fundraising page and consider donating to help CURE Cancer: http://pages.teamintraining. org/sj/ambbr12/kabbottlix
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