And yet every year thousands do. It’s the 40th running of the Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour tomorrow and this year, I will be among them. First time in five years. My sixth tour.
The question titling this post was asked of me by a colleague today, and as I type, full of pre-tour jitters, I ask it of myself. Since I’m packed, my bike is ready, and I’m mostly physically prepared maybe I should also answer the question for myself as a form of mental preparation.
I bought a bike in the mid-1990s, at the urging of my then-partner, as a commuter and errand running thing. I hadn’t owned one since grade 9. And I started enjoying the ride to work. I appreciated the time it saved, and I liked the feeling. I liked it so much and had got so used to it that I decided to keep riding through the winter.
At a certain point I decided to go for a bike ride just for the sake of going for a ride. On the bike paths mostly, further and further afield. I remember when it seemed like a big deal to ride out to Ikea from Centretown.
I really enjoyed it. The speed, the relatively effortless leg movement (beats jogging), the scenery flowing by, the places you could see. And with it a feeling of accomplishment, because after all, you were self-propelled. I started to take longer and longer bike rides.
And eventually, one of my co-workers suggested doing the ‘casual’ version of the Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour. Starting from Perth, 100km to Kingston seemed impossible. But I signed up.
The tour that year was half ghastly. Sunny and warm on the way down. Rainy, 10 degrees with hail on the way back. And yet it was such a thrill to know I could do that distance, I signed up again. And again. Once I even tried the 225km each way Challenge route.
So here I am. Preparing to get up and on the road as close to the 6:30am start as possible. Wish me luck.