Info Evening

So Monday night was info night.  A chance for us all to get a handle on what we're in for. 

While we're waiting for the meeting to start, Mike the Avanti bike guy and Dave, who rode ROOTB earlier this year, ask me how my training is going.   I stammer that I'm doing a few RPM classes, playing a couple of games of basketball a week but I've been waiting for something official.  They smile politely and nod.  Then they roll their eyes at each other.  One of them says 'You'll have to get plenty of miles under your belt'.  I don't even know what that means - how many miles is plenty of miles? Do we wear belts when we ride?  Then I think I might've blurted something dumb in reply, like 'I have really strong legs' and quickly move off to the drinks table.

Once the meeting starts I teeter dangerously between emotions.

Fear looms large.  What have I got myself into? There doesn't seem to be any official training program for us to follow and the large majority of us doing the ride are complete novices.  Dave recounts exploits from the first trip.  It's great fun he says.  Then he tells us a horror story about being so cold that the group almost got hypothermia while riding their bikes.   Small particles of ice cut into their bare legs.  Dave's eye balls froze open and he couldn't blink.  The support crew were out of cell phone range. Then it started to rain. Finally, they stumbled across a cafe in the middle of nowhere.  Huzzah!  Only the proprietor wouldn't let them in because it was still 10 minutes until opening and leave them to their doom.  Luckily, the couple who ran the bees wax shop across the road come to the rescue.

I seriously think about going to the bathroom and not coming back. Clearly I'm not the only one daunted by the task.

A tight lipped Renee and Michelle listen to the near death experiences we might encounter.

But as much as I'm completely freaked out about biting off more than I can chew, I can't helped but be moved and inspired about why we're here.  That we're on the cusp of doing something really important.

I am touched by the stories.  You would have to be a stone not to be.  Aidee, ROOTB organiser extraordinaire, talks about being a blase teenager were youth suicide was so common place, kids wouldn't bat an eye when fellow school students gassed themselves over the weekend. It's the parents she feels sorry for.  Living with loss everyday.  Dave recounts the story of a Westport woman who joined the ride for a day who had lost her husband and both sons to suicide.

I well up and spend a long time examining my piece of pizza.

Anne, from the Mental Health Foundation, informs us that they need to raise an additional $600,000 a year to bolster the funding they receive. Boris, also from the MHF, talks about flipping the paradigm and giving people reasons to live.  That we can make a difference.  Anna, who is doing a documentary, as well as organising a Buddhist exhibition to accompany the ride, shares her thoughts about the importance of dialogue.  Of opening up and sharing our pains and our joy.

I walk away from the meeting more daunted, more inspired and more excited than before.

The next morning I take my bike straight to the fix it shop.

I want to ride my bicycle....

...but first I have to get it out from behind the empty beer boxes and old school chairs n sh*t and fix it!

Up until now, I've mainly been going to RPM classes plus some random mountain biking around a tiny tiny lake . As you can see, this puppy is hardly road worthy. I'm not even sure if she'll be able to handle the trip once she's all fixed up.

For the last four weeks, I had forgotten I even had a bike but yesterday I saw it peeping out from behind the crap in my garage.  After much rummaging, I can confirm that yes I do infact own a bike.

I don't know much about my bike. Except that it's grey.  I'm guessing it's a road bike? The only reason I think this is because I remember someone telling me that road bikes have thin tires and mountain bikes have fat tires.  This has thin tires. Thin flat tires.

On further inspection it turns out that my bike is a Sirrus Sport.

It claims to be: a lightweight, head's-up road ride that helps you beat car-trapped commuters home with a measure of safety on the weekdays, yet is still light and efficient enough for a long spin on the weekend.  A measure of safety? Hmmmm.

Is this what I need? No idea.  Best take it to the bike shop and find out.

Still, it's got to be a better option than this one.

(NB: In case you can't see that properly, that is me riding my 7 year old son's bike.  It's called a Screamer.  I wanted one but they didn't have my size. )

This is Me

This is me.  And in five months time I'm gonna be 'Riding out of the Blue'.

In February/March 2012 I am going to cycle the length of New Zealand to raise awareness and money for mental health, namely depression.  It will take a core group of riders 21 days and we will be cycling over 2300 kms.  Earlier this year, Alison Blyth organised the first 'Ride Out of the Blue' and we're hoping to build on this. Despite being motivated by our nation's high suicide rates, this ride is all about celebrating life.  I like the sound of that.

When I read about this on Facebook, I jumped at the chance. Sure, a large part of it was due to the fact that on I was on the cusp of turning 40, but I thought the idea of cycling NZ was inspiring.  I've always had a secret ambition to walk the length of NZ, so this is kinda the same, just quicker.  Those of you who know me, understand that I always have some kind of mammoth, crazy project on the go (giant water ballet anyone) and this is no exception.   Right?

But when I think about the months of commitment -  the thousands and thousands of kms training I'll have to do, the numb bum, the sun burn, the blisters, the chaffing, having to turn down the 4th-5th-6th beer at those summer BBQs - I know there must be some deeper reasons lurking in there. 

Depression and mental health issues are close to home for all of us.  Many of my friends and loved ones suffer from it, mostly in silence.  Often I don't find out how blue they've been until after the fact, if at all.  My dad told me the other day that my grandpa starved himself to death in a mental hospital in London.  My other grandfather took his own life after years of struggling with Parkinson's.  For me, there was some kind of empowerment and poignant practicality about Grandad's death - he was a farmer, he could no longer use his arm.  He wouldn't have let his animals suffer like he was suffering.  But when I think about Grandpa, it just makes me feel sad.  I know from experience that depression can swallow people up.  Turn them insular.  So insular that sometimes there is no way out. So if you're not John Kirwin, how do you get people to open up?  I guess this is something to mull over on my bike.

So, this amazing challenge is all about to begin. We've got our first big meeting on Monday 19th September to find out what it's all about.  Come along if you want - details below.  We need all sorts, not just riders - support crew, sponsors, cheerleaders, masseuses...

I've been in what I call pre-training euphoria.  A potent mix of excitement, the odd RPM class and blatant denial about the huge amount of effort and carbohydrates it will require over the next 5-6 months.  I haven't ridden a bike in years.  But that's all about to change. Lots of things to think about and prepare.  Sheesh, I don't even have any lycra. 

Ride Out of the Blue Promo Video

Meeting:  Ride Out of the Blue
Monday 19th September 2011,
7pm,  Freemans Bay Community Centre