Gratitude

At the finish line last year, I sat alone for a minute to soak in the atmosphere. Maybe it was the beer I had. Maybe it was the week I had. Maybe it was the day I had. I felt like a million things were trying to escape from within my body. Like they no longer belonged there. I sweated heavy and hard. Caught myself palpitate for a second. Finally, some tears escaped from my eyes. I continued to enjoy that sobering moment. When I closed my eyes to wipe and interrupt the tears' procession, I saw an image of a pleased, younger version of me. Pleased, amused, and proud. Crossing the finish line this year mostly met me with relief. I had woken up yesterday to a throat that stung when I drank water. My eyes were hot. My temperature was irregular—I got very cold in the morning and terribly hot later in the day. I stopped at the first break to take some Tylenol and tried to stay at an okay and consistent pace of about 20k/hr with Sylvie and Anthony, companions who were aware of and considerate of my plight. We skipped the group lunch after I complained to Sylvie and Anthony how I didn't like most of the food on the rally. I am a curious eater. I am a moderate eater. But when you are burning up to 2000 Kcal daily, your appetite jumps through the roof. It's not that the food on the rally is bad. It's just not the kind of food I'd eat under those circumstances. When I do long training, I like to eat Jollof Rice with Fish and some veggies, for instance. I don't have that option on the rally. I also struggle with eating 'cold' food when the weather is equally cold. The wrappings are nice. The sandwiches are good. Just not for me. I suspect it might have contributed to my immunocompromisation and inadvertently, the fever I'm nursing. Anyway, we stopped to eat at Mama Bravo Pizza and Grill. We were now in French Canada and Sylvie, a Quebecois, hastened our order. I had Pizza. And some very satisfyingly cold water. My temperature regulated a bit and I could put my jersey back on again (I had to take it off because I was boiling and not even sweating much). We rode a bit more and had some Ice Cream at Wild Willy's. Then we rode out to meet the rest of the group. I had hoped that upon getting to the finish line, I could make a video thanking everyone who supported the rally with the big and the small. When I got there, I was feeling unusually parched. But in a way where nothing interested me to drink. Not the free beer. Not the free non-alcoholic drinks. Not even water. At least not in that moment. I took the time instead to check on my devices. My phone was low and dying. My 360 camera had come off its holder after the bolt holding it broke when I hit a bump. I took the camera out and used it to make some videos of the environment. Still, I had no energy or desire to make one expressing how I felt in that moment. Now that I feel a little better (got some meds last night), I can express how I felt, as much of it as I remember. Firstly, I want to thank my partner O, who has to live with a maniac participating in a sport where his only protection is spandex. Thank you for your words, for helping me with recovery and training, for the post training meals that accelerate tissue healing, for being the greatest cheerleader across all time, and for being my warmth in a cold world. I want to thank my siblings (and my closest friends whom I now think of as siblings as well) for enduring my obsessions, encouraging my madness, and being overall incredible. I want to thank my friends, who despite understanding how insane I am as a person, indulge me, encourage me, protect me, support me, and motivate me. It's a privilege to have so many friends that I worry that if I start listing names, I may miss one or two persons, and will instead opt for saying: thank you my friend, for being there for me. I am equally grateful to acquaintances, friends of friends, my partner's friends, and strangers. People who know of you and know just enough of you, yet share the pride and joy of close friends. People who do not totally comprehend the madness but will it onward. People who reshare and repost and leave words of encouragement, as though we were long lost relatives from a different time. Thank you for being so supportive. I am incredibly honored to ride with my amazing team of 27 beautiful folks on The Devils Wear Lycra. People who are almost as intimate as clothes to skin. Amazing people with whom I have embarked on this journey and shared many beautiful memories (training, camping, riding, struggling, suffering, joy and pain). While I can't name everyone in this large group of ours, I want to thank my Captains, Michelle and Charles, and my closest teammates, Sylvie and Anthony. May we continue to be friends for life. I extend a red carpet of honour to everyone who donated to make the rally happen this year. Every single amount you donated went into making this happen. Without you, this wouldn't be a thing that I can feel and almost hold in my hands. Thank you for opening your heart and pockets to help strangers you will never meet in your life. As iron sharpens iron, so does your kindness improve the world. Thank you. Finally, and importantly, I want to thank Saheedat, my SMM who helped cut many of the videos in time for uploads, so I could have good recovery sleep every night on the rally, and to also post frequently (shout-out to my adopted sister, Zia, for recommending her.) While I continue to ponder on my return next year as either crew or captain or just a rider, I want to mention that the Friends for Life Bike Rally raised CA$2m this year. And the funds will go into providing life-improving, essential aid for people living with HIV/AIDS. HIV/AIDS is still very prevalent and many people continue to experience systemic barriers because of it. Please be safe out there. Protect yourselves and your loved ones. Love your neighbors as yourself. Lend a helping hand to someone in need. Make the world just a little bit better for someone in it. Plant a tree today and let somebody else sit in its shade. Cheers.