Ah sweet sisters (and yes, my brothers too). It has indeed
come to my attention that the odd Y chromosome reads this blog and therefore
moving forward let me say…. Welcome my cyber brothers, make yourselves
comfortable and let the sisterhood wash over you. Allow me offer a heartfelt
bienvenue as only a good Canadian girlfriend can. May you find our weekly witty
banters as emotionally stimulating as my previous cyber sisters before you.
Will I, you ask, find a more gender neutral term for the
GGTH?
Hell no.
Make no mistake, I am thrilled to have you en blog, if you
will, but hey, a girlfriend has got to do what a girlfriend has got to do.
Rest assured my cyber brothers- I will endeavor to broaden
the scope of the topics included here every Tuesday and try and meet a little
bit of your needs as well.
Sure, we can discuss Testerone replacement every once in a
while and yes, I may drop the word PROSTATE into polite conversation, but you
will forgive me, dear boyfriends (and by that I mean platonic of course) if
we keep some things sacred in the name of sisterhood?
And so in the spirit of a relatively brave new world that
attempts at times to appeal to genders far and wide, I write this Tuesdays post
from the seat of my bike. Rest assured I am not perched on said Cervelo
pedaling for God and country. In fact at this moment I am seated on the floor
of my walk in allowing the inspiration to wash over me.
But in reality this post was written this past Saturday
while I rode for glory from Vancouver to Whistler in the Gran Fondo.
Make no mistake, the Fondo is by no means a man’s race.
Cycling is very much a female
sport despite the fact that the Tour de France still does not include women.
Yeh, I went political. And I took the passive aggressive route.
There. But really, mes soeurs? What the F? Remember when marathons were “men
only” sports? In fact back in the 1960’s was it not a thought among medicine
men that women running marathons would bang the hell out of their uteruses too
much so as to prevent them from having babies?
Weren’t we in the dark ages…. Sure enough when Katherine
Switzer ran the Boston marathon in 1967 as the first woman ever to register for
the race and complete it. Sure enough 5 years later the Boston Marathon was
open to women. It took some time but yes, indeed it is a man’s prerogative to
change his mind.
And so this brings me to the world of cycling. I could not
help but dream of the day when a female Tour de France will be a part of the
cycling landscape as I found myself on top of my sweet Celia (yes, I name my
bikes) in my second Gran Fondo Whistler.
Truth be told, when I completed the race 2 years ago, I
vowed NEVER to do it again. Turns out, I am full of shit. For there I was with
a bib on my chest, race number on my helmet and a song in my heart at the start
line.
The Gran Fondo Whistler is 122 kilometre cycling race that
begins in Downtown Vancouver and ends in Downtown Whistler. For those of you
unfamiliar with the route…. Let me talk you through it.
It’s 6:35 in the morning in Vancouver. I have lined up along
with 6000 other lunatics on wheels on West Georgia Street. I find myself in the
6 hour plus pace group. I was indeed built for comfort and not for speed.
Those of you who take issue with my time of cycling uphill
for 122km in 6 hours or more, please allow me to invite you to go screw
yourselves. I’m in pretty great shape- but I’m no cycling champ. I’ve got
stamina for days but speed is not my strength. Besides, I have 3 full time jobs
and I make dinner every night for my family. I am a loving wife, a pretty
decent doctor and an occasionally reliable friend. I have a mouth on me that is
pretty respectable and I can indeed shop for Canada (should it ever be
recognized by the IOC as a sport). If you can do all that, in four inch heels
and cycle to Whistler in less than 6 hours- have at me sister (or brother)… I’m
all yours.
But enough with my rant…. Back to my race on Saturday
morning….
We riders are all asked to remove our helmets and the
national anthem begins. Of course, true to form, I start to cry. Yes, I cry
when I hear my national anthem (I’m not a wuss- I’m a patriot, thank you very
much) and I cry during racing events. Oh Canada at a racing event and I’m
reduced to an emotional puddle.
The anthem ends, I dry my face and on goes my helmet. The
starting gun goes off and the race begins.
The Fondo indeed is a rite of passage for any cyclist living
in Vancouver. Not only is it a chance for the meek on wheels to inherit the
road, so to speak, it’s a true test of endurance.
After a coordinated wave of starts geared toward each
groups’ expected finish time, it was indeed my turn.
Ah the rush of it all as I cycled through the Stanley Park
causeway…. ON THE ROAD. Sisters, I have ridden the causeway twice a day every
day on my way to work- but always on the side of the bike path. THIS time, I
was front and centre down the yellow line of the of the roadway as I made my
way across the Lion’s Gate Bridge. Safe to say, Nobody puts baby in the corner.
Truth be told, I had another 120km ahead of me, but it was indeed a small price
to pay for a moment of glory. There we were, 5000 plus riders cycling over the
Lion’s Gate Bridge on Saturday morning without a car in sight. Regardless of
what happened over the next coming hours- I had THIS moment….
And then came the 10% hill grade that is Taylor Way. This
was indeed the prologue for my day to come. For yes my sisters as I rode up
that Motherfunhouse it dawned on me that there would be more to come…. A great
deal more.
And sure enough as if on cue, Kate Busch started singing on
my playlist….. RUNNING UP THAT HILL.
Yes, I rode the Fondo with a single ear bud in my right ear
and a play list on my phone. Truth be told, I usually ride with a single ear bud
in my right ear. I am never distracted and the music helps me pace. And so on
that glorious Saturday morning, Kate Busch was singing me up that hill and the
75 more or so to follow.
Over the next 120 km I listened to Bruno Mars lament his
relationships lost. I hummed along to Matchbox 20 as I made my way to Squamish.
This indeed was the lovely part of the ride. The Ocean to my left and an entire
lane of the Sea to Sky Highway before me.
I hit Squamish (KM 60 or so) with the Dunwells in my ear and
a skip in my cycling stride.
And then came the Alice Lake Hill. This was of course
followed by Daisy Lake Hill and a variety of other hills named after women and
lakes. I have a variety of conspiracy theories on this one but I will spare you
them all.
Safe to say that it is my estimation that men indeed name
bad acts of nature after women. Want to dispute my claim? Hurricane Katrina.
Boom. Nuff said.
And so it went up and up with 700metres to climb and 122km
behind me as I ascended into Whistler, across yet another finish line and a
moment of glory.
I was indeed a cyclist and regardless of time when the
rubber hit the road, I was indeed good enough. The question was…. Was I too
much?
A recent study presented at the European College of
Cardiology Meeting on September 3, 2013 was a glimpse into that question. How
much intense endurance exercise is indeed too much?
Researchers gathered vital statistics on Tour de France
cyclists who road the legendary road race between 1947 and 2012. They looked at
death rates and compared them to age matched French men (or controls) from a similar time period.
The results showed a 41% lower death rate in Tour cyclists.
There was a lower mortality rate from both cancer and vascular disease over
time. On average Tour cyclists lived 6 years longer than the regular French
male population.
Is the study a true scientific pillar on which to build my
life? Hell no. Firstly, I’m not a Tour de France cyclist. I never will be. I was
not built for that stuff. I don’t have the legs and I don’t have a penis. The
Tour is still men only…. For now.
But the study does reassure those of us that transient
endurance sports may indeed be beneficial. The key message, I think from this
study is the word…. Transient. We all need some time off from intense exercise.
That does not mean we ride 300km one day and then take the year off. In fact
other studies point to the significant benefits of long terms constant
exercise.
I like to think of exercise like any medicine…. There is
indeed a dose response and sometimes, like a good platform heel, you can indeed
have too much of a good thing.
So my brothers and sisters…. On this glorious Tuesday and on
all others…. Ride safe, ride often and of course…. Ride strong.
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