Yell for Cadel

 Cadel Evans has won the Tour the France.  Did we watch the Tour every night?  Yes we did.  (Ok, I watched it not every night, and only till 11pm at best, when I would do the classical nod forward.)  Were we sitting on tenderhooks?  Yes we were.  Did we get really excited every time Cadel looked like he had a good chance?  Yes we did.  Did my husband sit up at night at the farm, scanning Tour updates with his phone and then gave me updates when he finally crawled into bed?  Yes he did.

So, when they announced that Cadel will do a celebratory ride to Federation Square, I announced that I am attending.  (I have a really serious aversion to crowds).  The crowd on either side of the designated track was already lined three people deep when I got there.  By the time Cadel rode by, it was about eight deep.

But I did see Cadel ride by.  I saw his yellow jersey, I saw his bike, and I saw his genuine smile.  The crowds were huge, but it was worth it.

Baw Baw Classic

So, my husband has decided to do the Baw Baw Classic, cycling race, for the third time in a row.

Last year we actively supported him, and drove to the top of Mt Baw Baw amid falling snow. It was very exciting, but the journey is long and winding. So this year, we piked. Well, we half piked. We asked for permission to not be at the finish line, and permission we got.

This morning we drove my husband to Warragul for the start of the race. Of course, as luck would have it, the week was full of sunny autumn weather, but last night it poured with rain, and turned nasty cold. So we braced in our coats and waved him good luck at the start.

The race went well and he managed to climb to the top of the mountain and finish. He even got a medal. Just like last year, it snowed.

Then he caught the bus back down. But the bus doesn't come past our place. They dropped him off in Neerim Junction, and he rode the rest of the way home. That's right. As though cycling 100km from Warragul to Mt Baw Baw, doing the toughest climb in Australia (correct me if I am wrong) wasn't enough. He then got out of the warm bus, into the freezing cold, and with his spare clothes bag waltzing like a matilda off his bike, he rode the 11km home in the dusk. The last 2km being on a gravel road. And it's not flat.

He deserves his medal.

Wind in my hair

This morning we rode our bikes, 9 kilometres, to breakfast.  It was wonderful to feel the wind in my hair.  (I now have some hair, and there is enough airflow through my helmet that I can actually feel the wind in my hair).  And the breakfast was fabulous too.  We went to the same cafe as last year, and I ordered exactly the same breakfast.  Delicious.

Then we rode the 9 kilometres back.  More wind in my hair.  Some tiredness in the muscles too.  And then my husband spied a shortcut.  What is it about my husband that prevents him from sticking to the well trodden, safe, easy path?  Every single time we go somewhere, anywhere, he manages to get us bush bashing.  It's just not a trip out, if we don't end up somewhere off the track at some point.

In this particular case, a sandy vehicular track veered off the main road and we followed it.  My thin tyres were sinking into the sand.  Then, we saw a steep climb up ahead.  My husband sighed, and turned his bike around.  He is human after all.  (Although, I bet if he was with his mates they would have ridden up it.)  We continued along the well trodden, a.k.a. easy, path.

About 50m from our accommodation there is a steep pinch in the road.  It goes on for about 30m, but it gets you into bottom gear, and out of your saddle.  I hit that pinch, and I hit the wall.  That was it - my limit.  Of course I still rode up it.  Mrs 70% went out the window.  If I wasn't breathing and concentrating so hard I would have heard my naturopath going "tsk tsk" in the background, arms folded across her chest, fingers tapping.  But ... my muscles were crying.  Not just hurting.  Crying.

Back on the bike

I decided to finally brave the bike and ride down to the local shops.  To the chemist to be exact.  I got dressed in all my lycra, and off I went.

It was, oddly enough, just like riding a bike.  What was probably more interesting, was my visit to the chemist.

I parked my bike right out the front of the chemist shop.  I had forgotten to bring a lock, so I kept a very close eye on the bike, while waiting for my prescription.

One man appeared to be very curious about my steed.  He gazed at it from every angle for about 5 minutes.  I half expected him to go for a test ride.

Then, another man also waiting for his prescription, struck up a conversation with me.  "You should read Lance Armstrong's book", he sidled up to me.  Now, I am not sure whether it was just the lycra that caught his attention, or whether he figured out I was still recovering from chemo.  (I still had my helmet on, so you couldn't immediately tell I had mega short hair.)

"I have", I responded.  "Very inspirational."

The conversation didn't end there, and I was quite glad when my prescription was handed to me, and I could get out of there.

On the way home I was still enjoying my riding.  What bothered me is that I had no idea how much I could push it.  Would riding up that steep hill be too much?  Is this a "good" distance to ride, or is it the tip of the iceberg?  How far do I have to ride to feel happily tired?  (As opposed to stuffed.)  I used to know all these things about my body.  Now I'm lost.  It's all become a new frontier.

Chemo 1 - Day 3

Well everything is going according to plan - today I am knackered.

There is this training ride we do on our bikes. From Mt Waverley we ride up to Kangaroo Ground, then St Andrews then almost into King Lake. We cut through to Yarra Glen, and then back home. It's a touch over 100km, and it's very hilly. It's supposed to give you a real kick up the backside, and get you fit for riding longer rides.

Today, I feel like I had done that ride. All my muscles are throbbing. And I am eating and sleeping to match.

The Audax

The alarm rings. My alarm. It's 5am. You see, it is the job of "da wife" to wake up "da husband" so he is on time for the start of his ride. Sheesh. I am sure this wasn't in my wedding vows. Or was it?

Pete is gone before I know it. I am sure that ouside the world hums with multi-thousand dollar bikes, but I sleep on.

Sabina and I enjoy a lovely girls day out. First shopping for a present for Papa's birthday, then the obligatory cappucino, followed by shopping for afternoon tea delicacies, water guns and a surf mat. It is 30+ deg C again today. And we go back to our accommodation for a dip in the pool. The water guns and surf mat are a hit.

I get the odd update from Pete. "At Falls". "At Bright". Then I get one from the ride organisers - "Peter has just reached Mt Buffalo". We get out of the pool, and into town, where we stand cheering just before the finish line. (Was cheering part of my vows?)

Finally Peter finishes his ride, and we race after him. Sabina ignores all barriers and jumps into the race finish with Papa, proudly holding onto his bike.

In Bright

The little town of 2,500 people is buzzing. Over 30,000 visitors have descended on the town for the long weekend. A large proportion of them will be participating in the Audax Alpine Classic. The Audax (as it's commonly known) is a gruelling bike ride (push bike) any way you take it.

The short distance is Bright-Tawonga Gap-Mt Beauty-Tawonga Gap-Bright. 64km. You may be tempted to ask why isn't it just called "Bright-Mt Beauty-Bright"? When you have cycled up Tawonga Gap, you'll know why.

The other short distance is Bright-Mt Buffalo-Bright. 70km. From Mt Buffalo you will be able look back on Tawonga Gap and laugh.

Then there is Bright-Tawonga Gap-Falls Creek-Tawonga Gap-Bright. 130km. The only time you'll be laughing here is when you finish in Bright and realise, that the rider behind you is doing the 200km.

Then Bright-Tawonga Gap-Mt Beauty-Tawonga Gap-Bright-Mt Buffalo-Bright. 140km. See laughing instructions for the 70km ride.

Then there is the real McCoy, the original Audax, Bright-Falls Creek-Bright-Mt Buffalo-Bright. 200km. Over moutains. Laugh only when you finish.

And finally, the new special for this year, the ACE250. Bright-Mt Hotham-Omeo-Falls Creek-Bright. 250km. Over mountains. It's no laughing matter. It even has qualifying rides in order to enter.

So what are we doing here? Well, of course, Peter the bike riding endurance junkie, is doing the realy McCoy Audax 200km over mountains. His friends have more sanity, and they are only doing the 140km. Nice. Sabina ... well she's just ridden the 1km into town for an ice cream, and quite frankly I've been dragging her bike for the last 200m while she's been skipping along beside me.

We sit down at a cafe with our ice creams, and enjoy the hot day. 30+ deg C. The place is crawling with lycra lizards, dogs, children and bikini beauties. Bikes, bikes and more bikes are everywhere. And they are expensive machines too. Most of them standing in bike racks, or leaning against light posts. Unlocked. The waitress comments that they are running out of food.

Well, we're not! The cycling boys (men, perhaps) are so hung up on getting their carbs before the big day, that we've got more pasta, and more meat sauce of various kinds, than you can poke a stick at!

After dinner the boys double check their bikes, and pack their bags. Questions like "one spare tube or two?", "magnesium drink or protein drink?", "gel or pre-mixed drink?" are dominating the conversation. Everyone hits the sack early. I find a good book on the shelf. It swallows me whole. I finally manage to free myself from it just after midnight.

Three Wheels Good

Friends with children arrive. They bring their own tricycle. Sabina eyes it off with envy. "I want to have a turn. Sabina's turn!". Of course. Luckily we're able to quickly pull out Sabina's pink bicycle with training wheels. Jayden, unpurturbed by the colour, jumps on and zooms down the driveway. Sabina get's into motion after him. Add little Isaac into the equation, and you've got more traffic than in Paris.

Later in the afternoon we go to see Tornado. Sabina declares that she just wants to keep riding the tricycle. We leave her to it. In a flash the trike is forgotten and she's opening the gate. She'll lead Tornado around. Jayden is keen to have a ride. "No no no! It's Sabina's turn". Sheesh. She gets a ride, and jumps off reluctantly, not really sure whether Jayden deserves a turn. Jayden has a turn, not really sure whether Sabina deserves a turn. Sabina's turn. Jayden's turn. Sabina's turn. Jayden's turn. "Last ride", I declare. Sabina jumps up behind Jayden and they laugh and giggle aboard the pony.

More helpers

Ok, no one reads my blog. At least not the bit about how hard helping hands are expected to work at the ranch. Today, they arrive in hoards, loaded with bedding and supplies. I compare the head count to the room count and shrug my shoulders. After all, it's my husband who invited these people, he can worry about where they will sleep.

The primary task for today is a mountain bike ride. Pete's work mates vanish temporarily, only to reappear transformed as lycra lizards, wearing technically advanced helmets, and state of the art bladders. They hop on their two wheeled steeds and disappear up the track.

We are left to sit back, enjoy a cup of coffee and watch the view. I am so relaxed I feel out of place.

After about three hours, the men return, exhilerated. They jump in and out of the shower, and the fridge (for a beer). Chips roll into bowls. They light the bonfire, and the BBQ. Bottles of red wine appear on the side table, and it takes the women five tries to get the head count right for dinner. The table is heaving under the festive offerings, which come in waves from the hot BBQ. It's musical chairs around the table - if there is nothing left on your plate, then you must offer your seat to the next person. Just when everyone thinks they are full, the damper rolls in. It is delicious. Consumed in seconds.

The troops go to check out the bonfire. Within minutes they are back, soaking wet. "It's gone, all gone." Time for ice cream, and reading magazines, and putting your feet up, and going to bed.