Cycling

Peanut butter…and honey!

Peanut butter and honey! That my friends is the magic elixir for kicking diabetes butt on a 60 km bike ride … at least it was for me 😀 I wasn’t sure how to fuel myself for the Living the Dream Fondo. I’ve never used gels on my recreational rides and I knew I wouldn’t be all out racing (ha!) but I’d been listening to others around me talk about gels, sports bars, jelly beans, etc., and I started thinking, ah crud, should I be doing that for my rides too? I wasn’t too keen on the idea given my past belly revolting issues with gels, and I knew 60 km wasn’t a huge distance, it shouldn’t warrant such a requirement. Still, I threw a couple into my suitcase for just in case. And then I remembered a local sports radio dude, a couple years ago, talk about his triathlon fueling …

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The robin’s egg blue fondo

I’ve got two words to describe my very first fondo: No pressure. Unlike my running races, I wasn’t filled with nerves souring my belly, there weren’t anxious butterflies keeping me up all night, no stresses, no worries, nothing. The only goal I had going into the Living the Dream Fondo was to not be the last person to cross the finish line. Sure, I hadn’t ridden 56 km in nearly two years, and sure, my butt would likely suffer as a result. Sure, I had never ridden in a pack before, and sure, I’d seen the nasty mash-ups on big-time races. Sure, I had absolutely no confidence in changing a flat tire, even with the Tire Repair session I recently attended. And sure, maybe the concern in Big Ring’s eyes should have struck a flurry of worry in me when he handed me his patch kit and I, with my own …

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BMO, bikes butts and bits

Here we go again! It has been just shy of 1 year and 7 months since I last set out to run a race, and while I’m not doing a marathon, half marathon, or even 10 km for that matter, this Sunday, when I snap my Garmin around my wrist and lace my sneakers up for the Vancouver BMO 8 km run, I will be racing – against the other runners on the road, against myself, against Garmin, and most importantly against those frustratingly pokey demons in my head! Given that it’s been so long since I a) have run a race, and b) have raced a distance this short, I’m not sure I prepared as well as I should have… I’m not sure if it was wise I ran speed repeats last Monday; one of the windiest days I’ve ever endured on a run. And even if it was okay, …

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Tire repair… or not

So apparently a bike tire isn’t the same as a bike wheel – who knew? Big Ring. For years that dear, semi-patient husband of mine has been correcting me every time I talk about the bike tire when I should be referring to the bike wheel and vice versa. What do you mean it’s not a tire, I’d say, it looks like a tire, how could it not be a tire? But he kept saying wheel, wheel, wheel. And I kept getting more, more, more confused. He tried explaining it. He tried visuals. He tried analogies. He tried separating the parts into a pie chart of tire, wheel, tube and some other rubbery thingy. None of it stuck. And so, I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that when I told him one of my favourite running chicks was hosting a tire repair session at her house, he practically bounced …

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Saying goodbye

It felt as though I had been out of love with my Kona Zing for years, almost since I got him it seemed. Every time we hit the pavement, I had nothing but complaints. He’s too slow. He’s too heavy. He squeaks,. Seriously, why the heck is he so far behind? But that evening when Big Ring walked up the stairs, his eyes all alight with excitement, a strange sadness filled my heart. My bike had been sold. And suddenly, it was no longer the glass half empty bike, but rather, the glass full. As I slid my hand over his top tube for a final moment, my heart lurched. I remembered when I first rode him around the neighbourhood, up and down the same street repeatedly so Big Ring could capture our first moments together. And that blistering hot afternoon, riding under the canopy of trees, when I finally …

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