The damned and the furious

There are two halves in today's update: the damned and the furious. "It is starting like this..." THE DAMNED I woke up to my rear tyre flat as the hostel ground it was sitting on. The air leak from yesterday persisted overnight and my first order of business today was to get it fixed, so I took it to Meg. Let me tell you about Meg. Picture a handyman, what do you see? Whatever image comes to your mind, superimpose it on a short woman of about five feet and two inches with bristle hair, kind, firm eyes, and a penchant for getting things right to the smallest unit. That's Meg. Last year I went to ask her for air in my tyre and she noticed I wasn't sitting right on my saddle. Meg diagnosed my improper saddle position by merely looking at me. She measured what she thought was the right amount and told me to test it. I felt better immediately. Three days ago when I was worried about the pain on my hamstring, I took my new bike to Meg and she fixed an appropriate height for me again. And this morning, after failing to find where the leak in my tube was, Meg took my spare and patched it up. While Meg fixed my bike, I returned to my hostel room to take a fifteen minute nap. I have a mental illness (medicated) which often shows mixed symptoms like a person who won't date you but enjoys your attention. Some of those symptoms also arrive unannounced like your parents' annoying friends who never call before visiting. As I tried to get out of bed, I was overcome with a crushing desire to hide away from the world. In that fleeting moment, I thought to yield the day. Then my partner sent a text asking "how is it going?" I explained. We chatted for a bit before I headed back to Meg. While waiting for Meg to finish up (I forgot to give her my bike's security key, so she couldn't work) Sylvian, one of the riders on the rally read that I wasn't doing too well and asked me about it. Sylvian hugged me for a while and encouraged me, just as my partner had done, to take it easy and see how it goes. So the morning's ride started as the first three days did; with Sylvie and Anthony at arm's reach, and the rest of the Rally already kilometers into the ride. THE FURIOUS The first 20km of today's ride might be the worst 20k I've done in 2026. I averaged about 17km/hr for the first two laps (a lap is 8.05km). Comparatively, I averaged 20km/h on Monday over 122km in torrential rain. I had become an old taker. At first I didn't mind because I only wanted to see how long it would take to clear my head. I tried listening to California Dreaming (The Mamas and The Papas); it usually gets me to feel hopeful about life. But it didn't work. I played Asake and Wizkid's MMS but it was too loud. I settled instead for Cruel Santino's Rapid Fire with Amaarae. Alté afrobeats got me in a good groove and I started putting some effort into the roll. Huge shout-out to Sylvie who pulled early before I started pulling too. If you didn't know, pulling means they go ahead of me and I ride behind them, causing me to use less effort than the rider in front of me. Eventually, we made it to Gananoque, the gateway to the thousand islands. There, the town's crier welcomed us. Then the town's officials. I drank two bottles of some delicious iced tea we were offered by the town. Then I ate a shitload of gummies. And I was ready to go. This time, ready to increase my average to make up for the shambolic start I had in the morning. Wizkid's "yaaaay, ojuelegba shitta" is the sound that will open the gates of Afrobeats heaven. Davido will welcome guests with "shekpe," with Asake showing guests their abode with "ololademi asake." Despite having a miniature devil on my shoulder, having an Afrobeats rotation with these three felt as though I was in heaven. I started holding a steady 30km/hr, staying between that and 35km/hr, except for long windy climbs that brought me down to 25km/hr. By the time I made it to the halfway point for lunch, my overall average had gone up to 23km/hr. Just before I made it to lunch, my insta360 camera wobbled on its holder as though it would come off. I removed my bike computer to fix it but ended up deleting the data page that was tracking my lap averages. Half of lunch burnt at the cradle of trying to fix it, as I slowly watched my average go down to 20km/hr (I couldn't pause the ride as I fondled the computer for a solution). When I got back on the road, I insisted on a 30km/hr average for myself. It soon became 32km/h. The road snaked across the islands through a long and unending bike path surrounded by vegetation on one side, and water across the road. The roads exchanged batons as I got plucked into another long windy road. I went up. And down. And up and down. I watched my average slowly go back up to 25km/hr. I felt warm and fuzzy inside. I kept going. You know how they tell you as a kid not to follow strangers? I followed a group of strong riders whom bumped my average up. But I had to let them go because they were riding so closely to keep the draft that potholes got called too late and I almost crashed because of it. By then, I was about 20k out. I was feeling strong. So I started going as hard as 35 to 40km/hr with 28km/hr being my lowest point. Despite starting late and slow, I made it early to camp. Early enough to help my teammates move their bins to the camping ground, have a bath, get dinner, and still have some energy. I ended the ride at 27.7km/hr. I beckon on tomorrow to anticipate me. FINAL NOTE Later tonight, we will gather by the water for pos night; where people share stories about being HIV/AIDS positive and why the rally is important to them, to their loved ones, to the beneficiary organizations and their beneficiaries. It's usually a heavy night. But it's also a beautiful night. Welcome to Johnstown and thank you for following. I'll see you tomorrow.