Back in March when I heard a new Cycling Team was forming in my community, I was eager to join. And when I heard they were forming a team to ride in the Tour de Cure, I was just as eager to sign up (after checking with my coach to ensure it fit our Ironman training plan of course).
It has been 5 years since the last time I did an event for a cause and it was good to get back to my roots. After all, this whole ongoing journey started out that way.
When last I left you, I was coming off a poor performance at Ironman 70.3 Victoria. Since then, my training has been going very well. I ran the Vancouver Half Marathon on June 26th and posted my best half marathon time since before the pandemic.
My cycling has progressed and I am now riding over 100 kilometers each week. And the 2022 Tour De Cure would be the culmination of my latest training build.
I woke up early to start what would end up being a very long day. My bike and my gear were all ready and just needed to be loaded into the car. I picked up a fellow teammate and we drove the 1 hour to the race.. I mean event.. start.
All week I had felt nervous about the ride. I kept calling it a race and soon realized that calling it that, was adding extra pressure. It was a charity ride and it's supposed to be fun. Once I changed my way of thinking, the pressure was off.
Don't get me wrong. This would still be quite the challenge.
My plan was simple, stop at every pit stop, average 25 kilometers per hour, have fun, and finish.
I had my road bike set up with 1 bottle and several bags of my hydration/fuel mix. The pit stops were positioned every 25-30 kilometers on the course. If I refilled my bottle at each stop, it would average out to be one bottle per hour (per my current Ironman training fueling strategy).
I opted for my 40mm race wheels despite there being some wind. I let vanity make that decision as my road bike looks oh so much better with deeper wheels.
We arrived at Chilliwack Heritage Park and went inside to take advantage of the free food. We found our team captain and planned to meet back at 7:45 for a team photo.
After catching up with some old and dear friends from the 2015 event, we headed back to the car and finished our final prep.
After out team photo, it was time to line up.
It was a great send off. We heard many sad/inspiring stories. We heard about the medical breakthroughs happening right here in BC due to the funding from this event. And we heard that we had raised over $6.3 million dollars this year for further research funding and patient outreach.
I was getting flashbacks of all the Inspiration Dinner's from my Team in Training days (and all the same feelings).
There was a very powerful ceremony where a bike with no rider was walked through the crowd. This bike was to represent all those who could not ride, are no longer with us, and/or those for whom we ride.
After that moment of reverence, the energy of the MC and the room began to build, and soon... We were given the go signal.
Heading out was slow as we all funneled through the main entrance. We made a right turn and rode through the parking lot and out onto the open road. You can see us about 4 minutes in.
It was pretty packed until about 4k in, when the riders doing the 50k ride split off. Then it was just us select few going on to 100k or 160k.
The weather was cool and partly cloudy. Ideal riding conditions. Our team stuck together in a good pace line as we rode through farmland, taking turns at the front.
At 16k, I recognized that we were on the bike course for the Cultus Lake Triathlon.
We hit our first Pit Stop at 25k. I refilled my bottle, used the washroom, and grabbed some crackers.
Then we were off again. I must have misread the sign (or read the sign meant for the 100k course), but I was under the impression that the next Pit Stop was in 28 kilometers, putting us at 53k.
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| I read the wrong sign |
At 40k I was leading the group and we hit some hills. I soon realized that I had pulled away from our group quite a bit. At the top of one of the hills I pulled back and waited for the others to catch up.
Once we regrouped around 44k, I noticed my chain was skipping. I changed gears and it stopped. At first it only seemed to be skipping at one spot, but soon it began to skip no matter what gear I was in.
Our team captain was convinced it was the chain and asked me if I could make it to the next pit stop. I said yes, once again thinking next pit stop was at 53k.
The skipping kept getting worse and worse, and I was getting worried. I slowed down and tried to reduce my power to save (what we all thought was a bad chain).
Around 54k, a truck passed me. It had a Tour De Cure Volunteer sign on it and I could see a bike stand and tools in the back. As I took a right turn, I saw the truck turning around ahead of me. As it passed I flagged it down and asked if they could help.
2 amazing volunteers, Wade and Olivia, got of the truck, setup the bike stand, and began to take a look. They offered me a chair and water but I politely said no. After taking a good look at the bike, Wade found that the chain was in good shape, but one of the links (specifically the 11 speed connector link) was not articulating. So every time it went through the derailleur, it jumped and caused the chain to skip. Wade was able to successfully get the link to move again, but recommended I replace it once the day was over.
I thanked them profusely and they thanked me for riding. Before leaving, Wade asked me who I was riding for and I told him (the quick version of) Abi's story.
Back in the saddle, I made my way to the next Pit Stop. Good thing I flagged down Wade and Olivia when I did because soon there was a pretty good climb ahead of me. No way I could have done that with a skipping chain.
At the top of the climb (at 58k not 53k) was the next Pit Stop. I met up with my team and told them what had happened.
It was at this point that the team decided to split up and ride their own day. A few had been wanting to go faster and a few were falling behind. This way, we could all ride and not feel pressure to speed up or slow down. We would meet back up at the 79k Pit Stop (which we all thought was the lunch stop).
I was going to head out with the faster group, but as we pulled out of the pit stop a line of cars came by and separated me from them.
I tried to catch back up, but the course was becoming hilly again. I pulled back so not to sabotage my day.
I began to play leap-frog with another team. They would pass me up a hill then I would pass them on the flats. They would pass me up a hill, then I would pass them down the hill.
We turned right onto 16th Avenue and things got a little dicey. Traffic was very busy and this was a popular trucking route. The bike lane was narrow, full of rocks, and the line doubled as a rumble strip.
The wind was still a factor, but also still manageable. That is, until a semi truck passed and the combined wind and gust from the truck hit you.
After 5k of the gauntlet that was 16th Ave, we turned right and the course calmed.
After a long stretch of more hills, we made it to the Pit Stop at 79k, but it was not the lunch stop. I did my usual pit stop routine and chatted with my leap-frog buddies. I overheard someone say that 105k was the longest he had ever ridden and at 110k (the real lunch stop) he would celebrate.
I had read somewhere that lunch stopped at 2pm. With it being 12:45pm now, I was worried I would miss lunch. But one of the volunteers told me that as long as riders were out, lunch would continue to be served. This took any added pressure off.
I rode on knowing that lunch was only 30k away. After some welcome downhills we made our way through a residential area. Something about this area looked familiar, but I could not figure out why. But then, I took a turn and saw why. I was at Fort Langley. I come here once a year as the MC for
Try Events. It suddenly began to dawn on me just how far I had ridden.
While riding a long, flat stretch along the Fraser River, I started to do the math to see how much further it was to lunch. Based on the math I did in my head at the time, it was 30 minutes to lunch.
The course turned into some local farm land where I enjoyed a good (but fleeting tailwind). I stopped for a bit at 98k to let my grip rest, stretch my back, and eat a bar I picked up at the last aid station. I did some quick math in my head to see how far lunch was. 30 minutes? Again? What?
At 103k I was passed by another cyclist going very fast. As he past he encouraged me and he sounded like he was not breaking a sweat. I did more quick math to see when lunch was and it was going be... 30 minutes? Again? I stopped trying to do math in my head after that.
Then, as we turned a corner into a wooded section, the road seemed to rise up (and keep rising). This was The Hill. I wanted to unclip and walk up, but I was already on a very steep section and could not unclip safely without falling over.
It soon became very apparent that I had 2 choices: Ride up this hill and possible not finish the whole ride or walk up this hill and save energy to finish.
While pondering my choices I looked up at the cyclist who past me earlier. He was off his bike and walking. It was almost as if I need his permission, but as soon as I saw that, I was able to unclip and start walking.
Halfway up the hill, my calves started to ache. My cycling shoes where making me walk very awkwardly up this steep, long hill. So I decided to take off my shoes for the remainder of the hill. The pavement was just rough enough that every step felt like a mini foot massage.
As I trudged up this hill, I began to think of all those for whom we were ridding. Here I was upset I was not strong enough to ride up this hill, but there are so many people in this world who give anything to be healthy enough to walk up this hill with me. I thought about Abi and how she would gladly walk up this hill 100 times if it mean one more day with us.
Once at the top, I slowly and carefully put my shoes back on. I looked down the hill and saw one of my leap-frog groups. They were all walking.
One rider, Peter (who I was playing leap frog with since 50k) rode with me for a bit. We chatted about training and how our day was going. We encouraged each other to just make it to lunch. At 108k, we hit a downhill and I knew I would take off. I wished Peter luck and took off.
After a nice steady downhill, I reached 110k and lunch.
I stopped and took my time. I was not hungry but knew I needed to eat. I almost had to force feed myself. I chatted with a few smaller groups and shared stories about The Hill. It was then that I learned there was yet another big hill, Mt. Sumas.
As I started making my way back to my bike to refill my bottle, the rider from the last pit stop rolled in. I remembered he had said 105k was his official longest ride. I walked up, gave him a high five, and congratulated him on his NEW longest ride.
I got back on my bike and was mentally ready to go. The course began to climb a bit and I pulled back my power. I had already been riding for so long and I (only) had 50k to go. I wanted to do this smart, especially if there was another hill to climb.
The course had some rolling hills and some steep, punchy hills up until about 120k. Then it became long stretches of flat farmland with strong winds. There was a rider in front of me I knew I could pass, but decided to keep him in front to help with pacing.
I began to talk to myself. Telling myself to grateful for all I had, not just my health for the ride, but everything I was fortunate to have in life. I offered up my suffering to those not as fortunate.
During my self talk, I realized I was using 'you' and switched to 'I.' I had read somewhere that using 'you' is like an outsider looking in while 'I' brings a level of ownership and conviction.
At 130k, we hit the next Big Hill. I got off my bike, took off my shoes, and began to walk. Once a the top, I chatted with a course marshal while putting my shoes back on. I said something about being glad the last big hill was over. She gave me the most apologetic look as she explained that the hill I just walked up was not the Big Hill.
After recovering from that mental blow, I rode on. The next 6 kilometers was a steady uphill. It was not steep, just very long. I was able to keep my pacing/power under control. At each turn I kept waiting for the road to rise up and for that last big hill to there.
At 134k, I stopped at the last pit stop. It was a bit hidden behind a school, but I was glad I found it. After using the washroom and refilling my bottle, It was now all about finishing.
As I returned to the steady climb, I saw my lunch buddies and told them where to find the last pit stop.
I continued to climb and even hit some smaller descents. I kept waiting for that next big hill to come.
Then at 136k, I turned right onto Sumas Mountain Road. Ok, this was it. At any moment that hill will be here. Get Ready!
It was a fast descent with lots of blind turns. I took it very cautiously due to that and the car traffic on the road. With each blind corner I took, I expected that hill to be there.
But then, as I rounded a corner, I could see through a break in the trees. I saw, not a hill, but flat farmland. Was that long steady climb the 'big hill' everyone was going on about? No more hills? Really?
At the bottom of the hill, I stopped to give my grip a rest. I saw that I was right next to Highway 1. I knew excitedly where I was and how far I still needed to go. Just over 20 kilometers to go. If I paced it right I could be done in.... 30 minutes.... Oh hell. There is was again.
The last 20k was the longest 20k I have ever ridden. The first 6k was a long stretch along Highway 1. I decided to push a little harder for this since I had a nice tail wind. I assumed we would just follow this rode all the way back to Chilliwack Heritage Park, but at 147k we went over the highway and back into farmland.
As the course took several confusing turns in the local farm land, I kept thinking I could see Chilliwack Heritage Park, but each time it just ended up being a big red barn.
But then, at 158k, I could see it! And for the first time all day, I KNEW exactly where I was and how far I had to go. I got into my drops and pushed.
I rode past the parking lot and got cheers from riders loading their bike into their cars. I navigated the maze that was the finish area through said parking lot. And was surprised when once of my teammates (the one I gave a ride to the event) was on her bike waiting for me, so she could ride in with me.
We rode past the building and then into it for the finish area. I put my arm up and was glad to be done.
Once across, I broke down. The day was so long and so hard, how would I ever finish an Ironman!?
After I let myself calm down (and get a beer), I began to put thing into perspective. This course was super hilly, Ironman would not be. I did not have the option to rest my grip and back by using my aero bars, at Ironman I would. I was not tapered/well rested for this race. At Ironman I will be.
As more and more cyclists finished, I was sure to get up and congratulate those with whom I had played leap frog with. We had only known each other a few hours, but the way we spoke, it was like we were lifelong friends.
After some more rest (and even more food) we headed home.
If I do another ride like this in the future I will be sure to train more on my road bike and maybe put some aero bars on.
It was good to get back to my roots of charity events and good to test myself with the longest distance I have ever ridden. I have alot to reflect on for Ironman and even more ride data to go over with my coach.
I have a few more training blocks and an Ironman 70.3 before I tackle my first Ironman. Be on the look out for one more race report and some entries on training.
