Calgary to Edmonton Bike Ride

So now, here I am, back again, to finally post about my bike ride, and this way I can look back if I ever want to (not like I think I ever will!!!) and remember just what it was like. So, I guess I'm posting publically but I think it's mostly for me. It's going to be long. If you think you'd rather save yourself the boredom of reading over my trek, I don't blame anyone for skimming or skipping over it. Or not reading it at all. I would!

I left Calgary at 2pm on Friday afternoon. Sunny and warm, 30% chance of showers when I had looked earlier. Installed a brand-new odometer for the trip (which was a blessing and a curse... curse because it was so darned accurate, I couldn't ever lie to myself about how far I had actually gone, blessing because the signs saying how far it is to wherever are usually darned far apart). I actually started on a dirt road that my brother dropped me off at, just off the highway. And I went the wrong way, thinking I could somehow get onto the highway by keeping on it. Until I realized I was in a fenced in dead-end. So I turned around and went back. After that, it didn't really sink in that I was actually starting a 300 K trip. Or how long that was. It didn't sink in until I reached the 50K mark, which felt like it should have been the 600 K mark, and my legs were already sore. That was the easiest 50K of my trip. I had taken two short breaks to refill my water bottles, one at a gas station and one at a tim horton's. About then, I felt all cool and stylish, like "Look at me. Yeah, long distance biker. I know I'm pretty cool."

Then I kept on going... and around 5pm it started to rain. I had gone only 60K. At this point, I was rather exhausted, my legs hurt, and my butt... we're not even going to go there. I was wearing a tank top and a socker jersey overtop, both picked because they're pretty thin and have a material that dries rather well. Then it started to rain. And this rain was not pretty. It was hail, a hard downpour, thunder and lightning rainstorm. As in, I got off my bike and waited for fifteen minutes for it to stop, and my bare arms were stinging and hurt because the rain came down so hard. Wind howling, stealing any thought of warmth. After fifteen minutes, it hadn't let up, so I got back on my bike and kept on going. I had a sweater in my bag, but didn't put it on because I knew I would need dry clothes whenever I got to where I was going. Besides, I was already soaked. I was trying to make it to Lacombe, to stay overnight at my parent's friend's place.

My dad called me when I had reached 76 K, and asked how much longer I would be before I made it to the Matthew's place. Yeah, I'm not going to lie. I was pretty bitter at this point, soaked straight through and frozen for the last hour. My body was numb and my mind even moreso. I don't remember what I said, but I'm assuming it wasn't very nice. I remember how hard it was to actually move my arm and hands enough so that I could reach for my cell phone, and even harder to open it and speak. I kept on going for a while. No places to stop for a long time. Pretty much stranded in the middle of nowhere, and I was in more pain and more miserable, hopeless, and exhausted than I can ever remember being in my life. A single kilometre equals one big long hill that you can't see over and a long straight stretch. I had come so far, and to get to Red Deer seemed impossible, and to get to Lacombe, 20 some km after, was simply not going to happen. Explaining how I felt at this point is not even a shadow of what it actually was. Around my 85 K mark, the Matthews called. I couldn't make my arms and hands move enough to actually get my phone and open it before the message system picked it up, so I had to call back. I told them that I wasn't going to be able to make it to Lacombe, that the farthest I could possibly get was Red Deer. They wished me luck.

Sometime after 90 K, my dad's friend Al from Calgary called. Had to call him back, too. He asked if I needed someone to pick me up. I wasn't really lucid at this point; I could see my breath and I was covered in mud, and had been soaked for more than 2 hours. I was just outside of Bowden, the first real sign of civilization I'd seen for a ways. I told him I saw a hotel and was going to stay there. I was actually disappointed in myself for not getting further; I had more than two thirds of the trip left for the next day, all of which I would be really sore for. I payed thirty five dollars for a single motel room. Best spent money of my life. Writing my name on the bill was a joke; I couldn't move my hands or arms enough to make it actually legible. All I wanted to do was lie down and never move again, but I somehow managed to have a bath and stop shaking for the time I was in there. Got dressed and walked to a store, bought mini wheats and pizza pockets. Must have been a site for the girl at the store, I was still shaking and chattering so badly.

Went back to the room, watched some T.V. (outside world!! Never meant so much!) and forced myself to eat something. Dried my clothes, my shoes were more water than anything else. Tried to sleep, maybe got in about three hours, had the heat up super high, I felt hot on the outside but I was still cold, and would start shaking and chattering if I got out of bed. That was weird. Read some of my book. Left that morning at 6 am. Still raining all the way to Red Deer (43K, actually went by way faster than I thought it would) and past (saw the only live deer of the trip in Red Deer itself, a white tail); I didn't take many breaks in here, only when I was too exhausted to go any further without a rest. None of which were too long, I would start shaking and chattering again and would have to get back on my bike to make it stop. I didn't even get off my bike for a good 50 km because I didn't want to stop in the rain. I knew it would stop later in the day, and apparently get sunnier.

It stopped raining sometime after I got past Red Deer, and I vowed I would stop at the first truck stop I saw. That was a long time. My arms and hands were too numb to hold onto the handlebars for very long. Finally, there was "Grumpy's" on the other side of the road. I crossed and went to the bathroom, cleaned the mud off my face and changed into my dried clothes. I had two hot chocolates and waited for an hour, trying to get myself warm, but I simply couldn't stop shaking. So I gave up, changed back into my wetter, dirtier clothes and got back on my bike. Which was the last thing I wanted to do, but I got pretty good at lying to myself. I think anyone doing this kind of thing would have to.

Next 70 or 80 K were probably the hardest to do that day. It was never ending, and seemed like no matter how hard I pushed myself, it made no difference. And the clock kept ticking. I never thought I would make it to Edmonton, from the beginning of my trip until I actually made it to Leduc, but this was definitely the part where I doubted it the most. I'd gone so far that day but I had just as far to go and all I wanted to do was lie down. Here is something more. 1km never seemed like it was so far ever before when I was in Edmonton. And a lot of the reason is that there's little to no wind compared to the highway. The wind was against my favour from Airdrie all the way to Wetaskawin this weekend (Yes, I would get off my bike, lick my finger and do the wind check from time to time, just to make sure I wasn't trying to make excuses for myself). Most of the time, I would be going faster on uphill slopes than on downhill slopes (unless they were really good downhills, which there weren't very many of) because the downhill slopes were more exposed to the wind. One of the reasons the hills weren't a big deal to me that much during the trip. I also learned to really like big truckers passing close by me because somehow they would create some sort of vacuum and the wind would be nullified for a brief moment. Like I was getting a little "push". I actually wished the highway was busier.

My last big stop was at the Wetaskawin rest stop. I didn't want to eat but thought I probably should, I had snacked on granola bars during the trip, but I knew it wasn't enough to keep my energy up. I bought a sandwich and a gatorade. I found it amusing that, for the first time I can think of, I looked at the amount of calories on the side label and thought "What? only 150? What the heck is up with that? You'd think they'd be able to stuff more in this lousy drink." The lady at the counter asked if I had a long bike ride after seeing my helmet. I told her, "Yeah, from Calgary to Edmonton." She did a double take and said "Are you kidding me?" giving me a look, as if I were sick in the head. At that point, I would definitely agree with her opinion. Stayed there for an hour. Started shaking again after about fifteen minutes, but I'd gotten pretty used to it by this point. I had no idea just how close I was to getting myself really sick at this point, but when I got home and looked it up, I discovered I had all the signs and symptoms of impending and mild hypothermia.

I talked to my dad a few times during the day, but the talk we had while I was here definitely got me through those last 75 K. It might seem like after 225 K, 75 should be nothing. But after 15 hours of riding, being completely exhausted and somehow holding on long after, knowing you have another four or five hours feeks like you've biked around the world six or seven times and have to do it three times more. Somehow, I made myself. And I got to Leduc. Ahh, Leduc. Seemed like a it was out of my league for so so long, I never actually thought I would ever make it. The entire trip, I guess, I never really thought I would actually make it to Edmonton without giving up. Wasn't until I reached the last 30 K that I thought, "okay, I guess I can make it." Leduc's such a long place to get through. And then the airport. And then the city limits. And the first sign that says how many K's it is to the Whitemud lies. All the other signs from Calgary to Edmonton had been dead accurate (thought I had tried to lie to myself and pretend things were closer than they appeared). But it WAS NOT 16 K. It was SEVENTEEN. I'm still bitter about that.

Remember how before I thought I was all cool and stylish? Well, now I'm nasty. Covered in mud. Exhausted. Pants tucked into socks. And I didn't care. There are other bikers everywhere. Looking cool and stylish. In my mind, I'm thinking "Shut up. You might think you're all hot and stuff, but you've got nothing on me right now. You have no right to pretend you're all athletic and bikey and such. Posers." I'm not going to lie. I felt pretty much superior to Edmonton on the whole, and quite righteous. Exhausted, but righteous. Seeing the sign "Edmonton, the city of Champions" made me think that the sign was made for me.

So now, that is a brief account, of how hard that ride actually was. Which is why I wouldn't ever tell anyone the whole account. Because brief is enough reading for a scientific journal article. But I had to explain just how it really was. Not like I could ever do that; it's impossible to explain how long that road is without doing it yourself. Trust me, it's long. 20 and half hours on the road. 18ish hours of actual riding. 300 kilometres without touching a single motorized vehicle, but seeing tens of thousands. Just so everyone knows, it wasn't a walk in the park. And that's why I did it.

I've decided that each and every one of us only has a limited time on this earth. We treat our lives like they're going to go on forever, though we all know that this is false. Any of us could leave at any moment, and all of us will leave someday, but this is not something any of us ever really consider very often. We know it to be true, if this is all we would ever contemplate, we certainly wouldn't live a very good life, after all. But back to my point... there's a limit placed on our years here on earth. And, when I reach mine, isn't it important to me, to be able to look back and see that I was able to suffer, if only a little, for the good of others? That I was able to undergo something that pushed me beyond every limit I've ever set, and giving all that this meant to others, who deserve it that much more? As for me, it's a checkmark off my list, a pretty thing to put on my resume, a spurt of self confidence, and some temporary bragging rights. None of which actually come close to any five minutes that I was out there, pushing, pleading, praying. I'm not sure if I could ever do something like this again, if I could pull it out of myself one more time. But I don't have to in the near future, so for now, I feel well deserved of a brief respite, starting with getting up and going to my first class tomorrow morning.

Good night,
-Jeanine