If at first you don't succeed

It rained all night yesterday into this morning. It rained heavily like pebbles were falling from the sky. It rained incessantly like a debt collector knocking on your door. Learning from yesterday's fall, I matched my team's matching jersey with long bibs that covered the extent of my legs. I wore my socks, cycling shoes, and a cover for the shoes. Even though the colours weren't as synchronized as I desired, I put a yellow jacket on top of the jersey and bib combo, ready to get the ride done safely. But also prepared to take a fall if it came to it. It was raining after all. And my last two rides in the rain weren't without incidences. Today's plan to avoid as much of the rain as possible was to wait as long as we (Sylvie, Anthony and me) could. We waited until most riders had gotten on the road. Until only those left were the sweeps (designated cyclists who wait back to ensure everyone else was on the road), some support vehicles, and people waiting to be chauffeured by the support vehicles until the rain subsided. Barely 20k into the ride, I confessed to Anthony that I wasn't sure I could finish the ride today. I was in pain, slightly from yesterday's crash, but also because I discovered that I rode the wrong saddle height. My left hamstring was hurting, my butt felt like it had needles piercing it at intervals, and the rain wasn't exactly a morale booster. The plan then became to see how far I could go before I stopped. There was also a little problem. I had been peeing a lot. The most I could go before needing to pee was 30km. Which was an awfully low distance, considering I was participating in a sport where I needed to drink more water than I felt I needed at any time. So there I was, pissing my way through my pain, and seeing how long I could go. I led out the team for a while. Sylvie led. Anthony. And on and on. Until we made it to the first break. This was when the sun broke out of the foggy rain's shadow and illuminated our world. Off went my jacket (thanks to Paul who took it on one of the support cars). I had ditched the shoe cover before leaving camp so it wasn't a problem. We got back on the road and this time, it felt bearable. 25km/h. 30km/h. 32km/h. And on and on and on. Sylvie and I talked about riding the same route last year. And how different it was (weather wise). That was when I remembered how I struggled on the second day last year too. I joined the rally from the airport after flying in from Nigeria and had a less than amusing experience. Last year was sunny, but my body lacked the light it needed to push through. Every time I tried to get out of saddle, my hips would hurt terribly and kind of shut down. But I persisted. On and on and on and on. As we rode from Port Hope to Brighton and finally towards Adolphustown. Neither Sylvie nor me had a bike computer with a GPS last year, so when someone maliciously removed a road marking showing us our next turn, we rode until we exhausted ourselves across a long stretch of bumpy road. When it became unreasonable to keep going, we stopped to find where we were on the map and discovered, to our dismay, that we were terribly lost. Because of that mishap, we ended up not finishing the last stretch of the ride, as we had to be driven to camp by the support vehicle that rescued us. This year, better equipped, better trained, it was an opportunity to amend the previous year's error. But my hamstring was still hurting. Until it dawned on me. I had been listening to a mix of pop and grime. I needed Afrobeats. I popped some Asake, threw in some Rema, and some old school Olamide. Eventually, I forgot about my pain. Look, you can't tell me Afrobeats isn't the greatest invention right after sliced bread and surely before the invention of the motor vehicle. Lunch break. Afrobeats. On and on and on. When I got to the final climb (about 500m), Show Dem Camp's Live Life was playing. With a song like that, you would defeat the Lion in Daniel's enclave easily. So I sent it. Went full speed at the hill and leveled it. The rest of the ride was as smooth as butter on bread. We got on the ferry, crossed the water, and rode the remaining 5k to camp. Easily. I have surmounted last year's challenge, against the odds. Later tonight, my team will perform at the Rally's talent show. We will sleep outdoors in our tents again. And tomorrow, we will ride in the sun to Kingston.