Last Saturday was the big ride. My brother, Daniel, and I competed in the Kluane Chilkat International Bike Relay, from Haines Junction, Yukon, to Haines, Alaska. Teams broke up their members to ride the eight stages of the 240km race. We didn’t have much organizing to do in this area since we had each decided to compete as a team of one.
In my mind I had pictured a start somewhat like the one we’d experienced in Vancouver when we did the Sea-to-Sky Grand Fondo. In that race there were thousands and thousands of cyclists, over six thousand the year we competed. In this race, the teams were plentiful, but the soloists …. not so much. Less than twenty women competed solo this year. Undaunted, we lined up at the start, with the goal of finishing the event before the cutoff time. This race has a strict cutoff put into effect after Stage Seven. Any rider not leaving Stage Seven by 7:00pm would not be counted. We did not want to be in that group.
It's very hard to accurately describe both the challenge of this race and the beauty found in it. The race follows the Haines highway, a road that connects the small village of Haines Junction, Yukon, and Haines, Alaska. The road travels up over mountain passes, overlooks gorgeous mountain lakes, opens up to snow covered mountains, follows both fast- and slow-moving rivers, has no services or homes, travels through Yukon, British Columbia and Alaska, and is quite simply breathtaking. Passports are required to gain entry to the United States shortly after the sixth stage, for the final 70 or 80km to the finish. Riders competing solo must provide all their own support, there is no help in the form of food, water or supplies along the way for them. It was only after completing the race I heard this lack of support was on purpose; they were trying to discourage unprepared riders from taking on the challenge.
We were lucky. We had Jim, his truck, endless peanut butter sandwiches (my fuel of choice) cut into quarters and in sandwich bags containing two quarters – just the perfect size to fit into the right side pocket of my jersey or riding jacket, ice cold water, a treat of coffee infused coke for Dan and a raspberry iced tea for me at kilometer 140 (from there, we figured we’d have it made:), warm dry clothes just in case, spare tubes and a pump, and anything else we might need.
Parts of this journey were pure bliss; winding down mountain passes after steep climbs, cruising toward the spectacular Alaskan mountains, feeling the warm sun on our faces, and being in the moment we’d dreamed of for so long. Other parts of the journey were difficult; many climbs more than 15km long, challenging road surfaces in mountainous Stage Four, isolation, fatigue, pesky thoughts taunting us, and the mental fortitude needed to manage the sheer length of the trip. When I found myself thinking about distance and altitude, making the journey much more difficult, I reminded myself to look around, to take in the beauty, and most of all, to pedal on.
So too with life.
In life too, it is hard to accurately describe both the challenges and the beauty we face. In life there are moments so absolutely beautiful we dare not pinch ourselves for fear we are dreaming. There are moments of such contentment and peace it’s all we can do to keep the tears from our eyes. There are moments of satisfaction and success prompting us onward. There are moments of friendship, understanding, love, compassion, and camaraderie that make the pedaling so effortless.
There are also those other times. The times of disappointment and hurt, of heartbreak and loss, of illness and challenges, of unfulfilled dreams and dashed hopes. There are times of such deep grief, we don’t think we could possibly pedal another round.
I was reminded of some important things from our spectacular adventure in the North:
We do not need to get through hardship before we can appreciate joy. I believe that even as we struggle, there is beauty to be found. We simply need to raise our heads, look around ourselves and take in the beauty surrounding us. And we need to keep pedalling.
Help comes to us from unexpected places. On Saturday as we faced yet another mountain, suddenly from out of nowhere, in the vast Yukon and Alaskan wilderness, came the sound of a trumpeter, playing the soundtrack from Rocky, as we approached. No aching legs and burning lungs were a match for such unexpected support. We wore broad smiles as we crested the top of the hill. And we kept pedalling.
We can do much more than others, or even ourselves, may think. There were many surprised faces when we crossed the finish line in legal time. We were both older than ninety-nine percent of the other riders. I believe I out-aged the next female soloist by at least twenty years. Most people thought I was crazy to attempt the race to begin with. I thought I would be crazy to give up this chance for adventure with my brother. I am reminded I am limited only by my own self-doubts. I just need to keep pedalling.
All journeys are enriched when shared with others. I took every opportunity I could, along this long road, to pedal a few strokes alongside of others we encountered and to offer encouragement and support. I breathed in the support of others. I waved or smiled at those cheering me on, and thanked every volunteer who spent their day making the course as safe as possible. Sometimes I tucked into the protection of the wind behind Daniel, accepting his help as we managed a tough section. Sometimes I buffered the wind for others. Through it all we kept pedalling.
We don’t need to wait to live until we have …. There will always be a better house, a better job, a better time, a better bike. My sturdy road bike, perfectly sufficient but not nearly the top of line, saw me through no less beautiful scenery, than one worth thousands more. I just needed to keep pedalling.
Life is designed to wind us up mountains, glide us down hills, weave us past rivers, and challenge us to our fullest. It will make us doubt, believe, wonder, and weep. It will crush us and give us opportunities to flourish.
Pedal on.
My Challenge for you this week is, 'Pedal on.'
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to find out how to pedal on.
In my mind I had pictured a start somewhat like the one we’d experienced in Vancouver when we did the Sea-to-Sky Grand Fondo. In that race there were thousands and thousands of cyclists, over six thousand the year we competed. In this race, the teams were plentiful, but the soloists …. not so much. Less than twenty women competed solo this year. Undaunted, we lined up at the start, with the goal of finishing the event before the cutoff time. This race has a strict cutoff put into effect after Stage Seven. Any rider not leaving Stage Seven by 7:00pm would not be counted. We did not want to be in that group.
It's very hard to accurately describe both the challenge of this race and the beauty found in it. The race follows the Haines highway, a road that connects the small village of Haines Junction, Yukon, and Haines, Alaska. The road travels up over mountain passes, overlooks gorgeous mountain lakes, opens up to snow covered mountains, follows both fast- and slow-moving rivers, has no services or homes, travels through Yukon, British Columbia and Alaska, and is quite simply breathtaking. Passports are required to gain entry to the United States shortly after the sixth stage, for the final 70 or 80km to the finish. Riders competing solo must provide all their own support, there is no help in the form of food, water or supplies along the way for them. It was only after completing the race I heard this lack of support was on purpose; they were trying to discourage unprepared riders from taking on the challenge.
We were lucky. We had Jim, his truck, endless peanut butter sandwiches (my fuel of choice) cut into quarters and in sandwich bags containing two quarters – just the perfect size to fit into the right side pocket of my jersey or riding jacket, ice cold water, a treat of coffee infused coke for Dan and a raspberry iced tea for me at kilometer 140 (from there, we figured we’d have it made:), warm dry clothes just in case, spare tubes and a pump, and anything else we might need.
Parts of this journey were pure bliss; winding down mountain passes after steep climbs, cruising toward the spectacular Alaskan mountains, feeling the warm sun on our faces, and being in the moment we’d dreamed of for so long. Other parts of the journey were difficult; many climbs more than 15km long, challenging road surfaces in mountainous Stage Four, isolation, fatigue, pesky thoughts taunting us, and the mental fortitude needed to manage the sheer length of the trip. When I found myself thinking about distance and altitude, making the journey much more difficult, I reminded myself to look around, to take in the beauty, and most of all, to pedal on.
So too with life.
In life too, it is hard to accurately describe both the challenges and the beauty we face. In life there are moments so absolutely beautiful we dare not pinch ourselves for fear we are dreaming. There are moments of such contentment and peace it’s all we can do to keep the tears from our eyes. There are moments of satisfaction and success prompting us onward. There are moments of friendship, understanding, love, compassion, and camaraderie that make the pedaling so effortless.
There are also those other times. The times of disappointment and hurt, of heartbreak and loss, of illness and challenges, of unfulfilled dreams and dashed hopes. There are times of such deep grief, we don’t think we could possibly pedal another round.
I was reminded of some important things from our spectacular adventure in the North:
We do not need to get through hardship before we can appreciate joy. I believe that even as we struggle, there is beauty to be found. We simply need to raise our heads, look around ourselves and take in the beauty surrounding us. And we need to keep pedalling.
Help comes to us from unexpected places. On Saturday as we faced yet another mountain, suddenly from out of nowhere, in the vast Yukon and Alaskan wilderness, came the sound of a trumpeter, playing the soundtrack from Rocky, as we approached. No aching legs and burning lungs were a match for such unexpected support. We wore broad smiles as we crested the top of the hill. And we kept pedalling.
We can do much more than others, or even ourselves, may think. There were many surprised faces when we crossed the finish line in legal time. We were both older than ninety-nine percent of the other riders. I believe I out-aged the next female soloist by at least twenty years. Most people thought I was crazy to attempt the race to begin with. I thought I would be crazy to give up this chance for adventure with my brother. I am reminded I am limited only by my own self-doubts. I just need to keep pedalling.
All journeys are enriched when shared with others. I took every opportunity I could, along this long road, to pedal a few strokes alongside of others we encountered and to offer encouragement and support. I breathed in the support of others. I waved or smiled at those cheering me on, and thanked every volunteer who spent their day making the course as safe as possible. Sometimes I tucked into the protection of the wind behind Daniel, accepting his help as we managed a tough section. Sometimes I buffered the wind for others. Through it all we kept pedalling.
We don’t need to wait to live until we have …. There will always be a better house, a better job, a better time, a better bike. My sturdy road bike, perfectly sufficient but not nearly the top of line, saw me through no less beautiful scenery, than one worth thousands more. I just needed to keep pedalling.
Life is designed to wind us up mountains, glide us down hills, weave us past rivers, and challenge us to our fullest. It will make us doubt, believe, wonder, and weep. It will crush us and give us opportunities to flourish.
Pedal on.
My Challenge for you this week is, 'Pedal on.'
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to find out how to pedal on.
RSS Feed