On the eve of the first day of the 1,000-plus-kilometre Tour de Rock bike ride, the conversation in the group chat for riders was about socks.
It was a poll: When we start our ride today, should we wear our blue and yellow Tour-branded socks or plain black socks?
It might seem silly, but that’s the level of detail that goes into making the Tour de Rock what it is.
We wear the same socks and ride identical bikes to look like a team. Our daily itinerary is planned to the tenth of a kilometre.
We know where we’re going to be pretty much every minute for the next two weeks: on the road, at a community meal, at a school event, at an evening fundraiser, and, after all that, in bed in shared hotel rooms or on cots in a community centre.
As riders, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, even more than we have over the last six months of training.
Since March, my 15 teammates representing 10 Vancouver Island communities and I have been talking about this day, when we get on our bikes to ride for two weeks in support of pediatric cancer research, visiting communities along the way.
Now, apparently, we actually have to do it.
Are we ready for the endless hills we have ahead of us? The 150-kilometre day riding from Port McNeill to Sayward on the heels of 100 kilometres the day before? “The Hump” between Parksville and Port Alberni, which former tour riders speak about in hushed voices?
Luckily, a dedicated group of trainers has spent the last many months making sure that we are, indeed, ready and that we know it, with milestone rides designed to boost our confidence.
“The training works,” we’ve heard over and over again as we’ve toured the rolling hills of the Saanich Peninsula or climbed up and over Langford’s Bear Mountain.
In July, we spent a couple of hours pedalling our way up the road to Mount Washington, the idea being that if we can ride the Island’s most challenging hill, we can tackle anything that comes our way on tour.
It was an agonizing couple of hours and I spent most of the 1,000-metre climb over 18 kilometres thinking of ways to talk about it without swearing.
Spinning in my easiest gear, I focused on riding to the next bend in the winding road, certain it absolutely had to flatten out for a reprieve just out of sight. It did not. Around each curve was just more hill, sometimes even steeper for added fun.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I thought to myself, staring down a daunting stretch of road with wobbly legs.
I kept thinking I couldn’t complete the next section, only to find myself rounding a corner. “If I was wrong last time, maybe I can be wrong again,” I began to tell myself, until I started to believe maybe I would actually make it to the top.
We all reached the parking lot at the ski hill’s base, of course, as our trainers knew we would.
When the negative talk creeps in during the tour and I think my tank is empty, I’ll be clinging to this lesson that I might be wrong.
There have been more informal, unplanned tests, too, like a couple of weeks ago when I chased down a bus for 20 minutes.
I had missed the bus by a minute, and by the time I noticed, it was already several blocks away. Carrying two bags on my back, I raced the bus from downtown, finally getting ahead of it right before it merged onto the Pat Bay Highway.
Sweaty, I boarded the bus to the ferry and told the driver I’d been chasing him from downtown. He waved my fare away and told me to buy myself a Gatorade.
Feeling impressed with myself, I texted my teammates: “The training works.”
We’ve spent a lot of time focusing on the physical challenge ahead, but not so much time wondering if we’ll still like each other after spending a night sleeping on cots in a community centre listening to each other snore. (I’ve already been warned who will be the worst offenders and I plan to set up my bed as far away as possible.)
Riding long distances is one thing, but doing it in the rain and wind while the bike in front of you throws grit into your eyeballs is something else entirely. And when that rain mixes with tears while listening to the stories of children and families who have faced the unimaginable struggle of a cancer diagnosis, that will be the real challenge.
In two weeks, after the team makes our final stop of the tour at the legislature and the final donations are tallied, I won’t know what to do with myself. Or what socks to wear.
Anyone interested in donating to Tour de Rock can visit tourderock.ca.
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