“…now that wasn’t so hard was it. All that worrying for nothing.” bubbled a sparkly voiced Moll. “You climb Taylor Way, Furry Creek and Murrin Lake hills with elegance and grace.”
“Crap” blurted out Athena, ``The last 40 km’s were gross…I had to apologize to the cyclists around me for swearing loudly with words starting with the letter `F``.
Yes, Athena your language was colourful but by the 100 km mark the sentiment was shared by the other cyclists.
The morning was cool but the sunrise over the Lions Gate Bridge was spectacular. Vancouver to Squamish went well, on target for pace, speed and time. Down hill speeds were clocked at 57 km per hour and the new bike handled like a dream. No shudders, no quivers, just a solid easy, carefree ride…almost too confident of a ride. The family was in Squamish waiting with egg salad sandwiches, V8 Juice, Tomato Juice, cheese, electrolyte drinks and more power bars. Given the opportunity Athena would have quit cycling at Squamish, but the family assured her that she wasn’t going to die cycling up the Cheakamus.
The Cheakamus canyon has a spectacular rain forest at the base and high mountain vegetation near the top. The canyon is 13 kms long with a 6% grade. Not a steep grade, but enough of a grade to be a problem after riding hard for 70 kms. At the top of the Cheakamus Canyon (88 km mark) the GranFondo folks wisely set up the Salt Shed Aid station. This station has been fondly recognized as the `cramping` station because of the number of cyclists treated for cramping, nausea, dehydration etc. For Athena, the dizziness had set in - a banana, a bagel and more electrolytes consumed. Athena, Athena there was a reason for the Red Bull drink at the aid station. Next time drink some…you needed the sugar and caffeine.
Get back on that cycle Athena, coach said to minimize the stops. From the Salt Shed it`s only sixteen km’s to the next aid station at Brandywine.
The legs don’t want to move, the bike feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and the back tire feels flat. Athena, you have bonked, you bonked hard.
``…F….``, muttered Athena, ``Coach Stephanie would tell me to work on technique. Round pedal strokes, push down, scrape across and pull up with the hamstrings``.
Count Athena, Count``…One down, two across, three up…one, two, three…one, two, three.``
Climb Athena, ``Hands on top of the handle bars, open the chest, count one down, two across, three up…only 16 km’s to Brandywine.``
The highway to Brandywine is undulating with rolling hills…yes more hills, unrelenting hills. The family was cheering from the sidelines, only one more hill they called.
``Yes, lie to me`` muttered Athena.
Brandywine Falls how sweet thou are, beautiful lush forest, sounds of running water, an idyllic tourist attraction with a spectacular water fall…at least that’s what the family tells me. More egg sandwiches (all the stomach can handle) more tomato juice and more electrolyte mix. Did you know that electrolyte mix looks like and takes like urine.
``Sixteen more kilometres to whistler …you are almost there.`` whispered Athena, ``The time doesn’t matter, just get there``.
Sixteen kilometres was hell on earth. One more monster hill at the 110 km mark. The legs just don’t want to cooperate. Athena was amazed that she was able to ride at a cadence of 40 rpm and still balance upright on the bike.
Athena slowly passed a cyclist that was walking up the hill.
``You Okay?`` questioned Athena as she was grunting past the cyclist.
``Got a leg cramp`` the cyclist in the red jacket replied. ``I want to call the SAG wagon``.
Athena spoke hesitantly, ``How about we walk the rest of this hill? It’s only about 300 feet to the top and then it’s rolling hills to whistler. There’s no face lost in walking a little while``.
Three hundred feet later, the cyclist in the red jacket mounted her Trek bike and cycled away.
``F…. muttered Athena (by this time F…was Athena’s favourite word), ``that cyclist will probably beat me to the finish line.``
The rest of the 10 kms were sheer hell, always expecting the finish line to be around the next corner only to find another relentless hill. Finally Creekside village, the tourist information booth, a MOT flag person waving Athena to the right, up the hill past the convention center, a police man telling Athena to slow down. Slow down? Athena can’t slow down or she will fall off the bike.
Finally, sweet finally the big white awning of the finish line, left fist straight into the air, a cry of victory and the announcer even got her last name pronounced correctly.
``…see I told you it was going to be okay`` yelled Moll, ``you just needed to trust and believe in yourself``.
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