Gong ride wrap up

Here's a copy of the radio interview I did with Alex Sloan on 666 Mornings ABC Local Radio in Canberra. It really just emphasized to me all the things I haven't actually completed yet, but it was fun anyway.

ABC Alex Sloan interview with all before thirty by duskerdee

Also, our official photos from the Gong ride are up... if anyone is interested you can search for 'Pask' and 'Hollier' under '7 Nov Gong Ride' here.

Straight faces

During the course of the ride, I think I can safely say we made 2 strangers laugh. The first was a lovely lady cyclist we met on the incline between Waterfall and Red Cedar Flat – Carly and I were talking about inspirational sausages at the time. The second was as we pulled up at a traffic light in Thirroul, and I (perhaps pre-emptively) exclaimed “We’re so close!” An older, wiser cyclist, had a good chuckle at this.

That brings me to a grand total of 4 laughing strangers and a newfound determination to find a way to catch up on this. One of my ideas had been to break into a dance whenever I could hear somebody’s iPod on the train. I tried it this morning but all I got was one slightly alarmed businessman, one confused urban youth and a carriage full of commuters getting suspiciously more interested in their phones and books all of a sudden.

Sydney to Gong - the saga

5.20am. That’s what time it was when Ben left the house, in the dark, on Sunday morning. I wished him luck, waved goodbye, and decided to try to get another hour’s worth of sleep before getting ready myself. It didn’t work. We were too buzzy.

I had planned big things for Woodstock the bicycle – he was naked: pannier-less, sans-basket. I thought I could shove a bag with a change of clothes and various other goodies under the pannier rack, but then I freaked out at the last minute, worried that the bag would come flying off and wreak all kinds of havoc. So in the end I went with a bottle of Gatorade and a lightweight jacket, with my ID and some loose change in a coin pouch in the back of my gym pants. We were streamlining. In my mind, I needed all the help I could get and if that meant slightly less wind resistance, then I’d take it.

Woodstock and I met Carly-le and her new bike Lady Bump at Newtown station. Carly was even wearing an orange bike shirt, which for someone who has more than a passing aversion to this colour, was already a spectacular step forward. One small step for lady, one giant leap for lady-kind! We wheeled our way down to Sydney Park and were greeted with our first volunteers, frantically waving their plastic noisemakers and pointing giant foam fingers leading us to the start line. We hadn’t even started and we were getting cheers.

Ben’s group had left the starting line at 6.15am so he was well on his way. Our start time was 8am. We saw the main group surge from under the starting flag while we ate a preparatory Mars Bar, shared a free muffin and pinned our rider numbers on. We also nabbed some free Power Bar Gel Blasts, intense little chewy sweets claiming to be pure energy. We saw two bears on a tandem go by. And then we went under the flag, and were on our way. It was 8.05am.

If there was one thing we didn’t want to do, it was burn out early. Neither of us had ridden anywhere even close to 90km in one sitting before, so our mantra became “slow and steady finishes the race”. Most of the roads at the start were segregated by witches hats, so I felt pretty safe, and since we’d left after the main 8am rush we didn’t have the problem of being stuck within a cluster of cyclists (or a ‘peloton’ as I learnt the collective term is for such a group). This had actually been one of my main concerns – being trapped in a pack and having to keep up with them for fear of causing an accident. Fortunately we had long stretches of road to ourselves and were overtaken by many more pelotons as we continued to the first stop at a leisurely pace.

The bike track along Brighton-le-Sands was a pretty cool. To our left was Botany Bay and on the other side of that was the airport, complete with 747s magnificently cruising in over the water. We decided to take some photos while we still looked ‘fresh’.

There were 8 pit stops along the way, and we checked in at the first one to adjust our seats (mine had slipped down to a level where I could just about lick my knees). 14kms down and we’d not even broken a sweat. However it was 16kms to the next one at Loftus Oval and I was quite relieved to see that one appear. We restocked on fluids and muffins (much tastier than expected). I’d received a text from Ben saying he’d made it past Waterfall and the 10kms after that were awful. We tried not to pay too much attention to it.

We passed the third checkpoint, Engadine, where the 58km riders were joining us. “Carly-le,” I said, “We could have started from here!” We continued all the way to Waterfall where we did a quick refill of our water bottles and pushed on. Carly saw an ambulance with a woman inside looking a little worse for wear. We tried not to pay too much attention to that either.

I thought Ben had his checkpoints confused, because after Waterfall it got breathtakingly grand. We were in the National Park now and had a super awesome downhill ride for what felt like an eternity. Dappled sun through the forest canopy, whipbirds cheering us on, just a few other bikes dotted on the road, no cars. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done. It was like a scene from some triumphant coming-of-age film. I felt like whooping and hollering and the wind whistled past like one long joyous high five. (I later found out that Ben’s group had been escorted down this section due to a quite serious accident halfway down. That, combined with being in a tight huddle of cyclists, made the experience not quite as enjoyable for him). It was also somewhere along this section that we hit the 45km mark. Halfway!

The next checkpoint after Waterfall was the National Park lunch stop. We had told ourselves we’d stop there and get a sausage, and that was quite a motivating factor once the wonderful decline started turning in the opposite direction. “Just after this next hill,” we encouraged each other. After what felt like a long time, and halfway up a particularly long and winding incline, Carly turned to me and said, very calmly, “Dee dee… where are the sausages?”

You can only imagine how disappointed we were when we made it to the checkpoint and they HAD RUN OUT OF SAUSAGES. Overall this event was extremely well organised, but the lack of sausages was a bit traumatic. Yes it was almost 12pm by this point, but it wasn’t like there wasn’t anyone behind us… we had to settle for a couple more muffins instead and Carly sampled some coffee. We had a little rest there and chomped up some more gel bursts before heading back onto the hill. Still 39km to go.

What we didn’t realise at this time was that we were halfway up Bald Hill – the toughest part of the course. Not knowing this was inadvertently an excellent strategy. It was reassuring to see how slowly everyone was taking off after the lunch stop, and we were all pedalling uphill but still with enough energy left to briefly converse with each other. There was an amazing man who had a buggy attached to the back of his bicycle, pulling along his wife who suffered from MS. We rode with them for a while. We also saw a surprising number of tandems and a few younger children putting in the hard yards. We even saw the bears again. We were so rejuvenated after the beautiful ride through the national park and the lunch stop that we didn’t seem to recognise we were in the middle of the difficult bit. We started overtaking people on these hills. We were machines!

Just as we started to tire of going uphill, a vast sky appeared. Otford Lookout greeted us, with 30kms to go.


This was the last time that Carly and I stopped. We were surprised at how well we were holding up, but we also could see Wollongong far in the distance. And the hardest bit was over (theoretically).

At the top of Bald Hill, we could see down into Stanwell Park and the Grand Pacific Drive ahead of us. Due to the steepness of the hill, we were escorted by police motorcycle down into the town, but at greater speed than expected. Going downhill is fun. The views were gorgeous and the beach smelt wonderful. Going over the Sea Cliff Bridge was fricking amazing too. Hello Pacific Ocean.

The last 20kms, while not terribly challenging terrain, was tough on tired legs. The hills were small but heaved with effort. Scarborough was the one place where we were forced to dismount, three quarters of the way up a sharp ascent. I made the mistake of trying to stand and pedal. It was my downfall (not literally. I am happy to say we made it through the entire ride accident-free). As we went by Scarborough Hotel, we observed a large number of bikes locked up outside. Turns out that many seasoned riders use this as an un-posted pit stop for a hard-earned beer. We pulled up at some traffic lights later and one of the policemen asked if we’d stopped there. We hadn’t, but some others in our pack had, and asked “you haven’t brought your breathalizer, have you?” In keeping with the spirit of the thing, the policeman patted his pockets and replied “nah, don’t think I’ve got it on me today”.

We were looking for markers telling us how far we had to go, and each time seemed like it was lying. “That definitely felt like longer than 5kms.” My right knee decided to complain very loudly at around the 20km mark. We passed 15kms, 13kms, then finally 10kms. We had made it to Wollongong. Traffic lights kicked in and stopping became the enemy – red lights meant a dismount and violent cramping. I tried to push with my good leg and keep the other one moving but without the pressure.

Then, a bike path, and people waving, and lovely volunteers yelling encouragement as we neared the end. Stuart Park - 1 km! I could barely believe it. Then we saw the Finish banner – what an amazing sight. Determined to finish strong, we both pedalled up the path – and then were waved onto the grass towards the finish line which was a horrible swampy mess. It felt so cruel to have to crawl through this quagmire in the final 10 metres and all I could think of was “don’t fall off now… please don’t fall off now…” Fortunately, neither of us did. According to my watch (which was later discovered to have gained 20 minutes during the course of the journey… strange), we arrived at 3.55pm. 6 hours and 50 minutes of cycling. We were still amazed. Did we just do that?

Mission accomplished

Just so you know, we all made it to Wollongong yesterday. I had planned to take some video footage at various stops but freaked out at the last minute and realised I had nowhere to keep my camera while riding, so I will have to share a few photos from Carly's camera phone later. I will write a proper post when I'm not still so sore and tired (and hideously sunburnt), but the good news is, we made it the whole 90kms and were still smiling at the end of it. I was telling people it took us 6 hours 50 minutes but that was before I realised that my kinetic watch had somehow sped itself up by 20mins during the course of the ride. Weird. So, we did it in somewhere between 6hrs 30mins and 6hrs 50mins, including stops. Ben did it in something like 4 hours, because he is an incredible freak.

I'm so proud of us! And collectively we raised $1700 for MS. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday, really.

Two more sleeps til the big ride...

I think I forgot to mention, I went to a cycle class with Scobie last week. I thought it would kill me, but we actually enjoyed ourselves! It was hard work, but was more a practice in controlling my head than my legs, who I think could have worked harder (but don’t tell the trainer that). It was reassuring in a couple of ways – this was not so much a Spin class as an Interval Training class. I realised that it worked out to be kind of like my regular street ride: a few tough hills, some ‘recovery’ stretches of road. The need to recover is so integral to me making it through any length of ride, it was nice to know that this is normal. I just hope there are enough of them. The trainer also mentioned “this is supposed to be a workout for your legs, not your arms!”, something I could definitely relate to and why I think having gloves is so awesome. So even though my head almost exploded, the class was pretty good. We had planned to attend another class this week, but then Scobie fell over and twisted her ankle and apparently wasn’t even drunk. Pffft…

All the radio stuff got me quite buzzy yesterday, and has definitely buoyed me to feel a huge enthusiasm towards the ride. I’m mostly putting this down to blissful ignorance and plan to utilise this complete lack of common sense for as long as possible. Loftus Oval, at least.

The Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist

I finally got around to recording one of October's songs, and I'm starting to get the hang of Garageband. This is the third in my 'Songs About Challenges' repertoire and is definitely a step up from my last attempt, the now classic track "Sausages". This one is about the Sydney to Gong ride and cycling in general.

May I present: The Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist.

Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist by duskerdee

She rides... she rides...

It's like Lamaze

All this breathing and pushing

She rides

Uphill

We battle uphill

While old men sidle effortlessly by

I'm indicating

I'm on a bright yellow bike

And it's frustrating

Because I know I'm in your sight

But you're not waiting

You just drive out and make your point

There's so much hating

Around

Ninety kms...

How are we ever gonna make it

Along that highway?

Uphill

We battle uphill

I'm really gonna make it even if it means

I'm pedalling for days

I'm indicating

I'm on a bright yellow bike

And it's frustrating

Because I know I'm in your sight

But you're not waiting

You just drive out and make your point

There's so much hating

Around

She rides...

She rides...

She rides...

Bike maths

It took me 35 minutes to ride into work this morning – new personal best. Self esteem win. I did however have another high flying business jerk dangerously cut me off on Abercrombie St at whom I yelled the C word very loudly, so I’m also glad I didn’t get arrested. Ben’s got some new App on his phone that tracks his journeys and gives him a reading of his average speed, distance travelled, etc. It’s pretty cool and significantly cheaper than buying one of those fangled bike computers. Yesterday he did 9.94 kms in 27.14 mins, so that’s looking like just over 4 hours to get down to Wollongong. A worthy target. Me, I guess I’m averaging out at around 40 minutes for 8.2kms, so that brings me in at the slightly less impressive time of 7.3 hours. Ben leaves at 6.30am so as expected will probably be frolicking in the ocean or gorging on French toast well before 11am. I leave at 8am so I’ll be lucky to arrive before 4pm. Yikes. Carly has tried to alleviate my concerns by reminding me that she doesn’t even own a bike yet... but I'm not sure if it's working.

It’s the 22nd, and I need to record my 2 songs. Jacob’s is entitled “Tiny Mantis” and is about distracting myself from bigger issues by watching the wildlife directly outside my window. Bart’s is entitled “The Ballad of the Substandard Cyclist” and is rather self-explanatory. To be honest, neither of them are 100% complete, but I was kind of hoping that if I pointed behind you and yelled “hey look at that really interesting thing over there!” nobody will notice.

Oh yeah, and we’re playing at Marrickville Festival on Sunday for a blazing hot 20 minutes. Come and be amazed! And also, make yourself sick on gozleme. But mostly be amazed.

Blowholes and buses

I've only had one so far, so I don't have much for a point of comparison, but Wedding Anniversarys seem to be pretty great. Happy 1st year, Ben Husband Pask! We had a little getaway down the south coast where we discovered that the Little Blowhole is more excellent than the Big Blowhole, coastal walking tracks are not greatly signposted, the Vietnamese restaurant is top class, and if you keep your eyes peeled on the ocean for long enough, you might even spot an unexpected and beautiful pod of whales. Good times.

Some interesting outcomes arose from the weekend, one being that Cityrail thoughtfully chose to have track work on the day we travelled down and consequently made our journey 4 hours long rather than 2. We were made to get off the train at Waterfall and take a rail replacement bus to Wollongong. Buses obviously travel less by rail and more by road. The road that is going to become more familiar to us in a few weeks time when we are pedalling feverishly along it (or potentially, when I am dragging my bike along the side of it). Needless to say, it was a little daunting. Even Ben felt a lump in his throat.

Secondly, we are officially tired of public transport. We have done our time with buses and trains, and even hire cars with their stranglehold of garage opening/closing hours, forcing us to drive through the loathsomeness that is East Sydney. The decision was planted and swiftly germinated into a hulking great oak - we're going to purchase a car. True story.

Sponsorship grovel

The countdown is on to Wollongong. Who are my mystery benefactors? I have been wondering this for some time. I had 2 donations of $10 each, and somebody very generously donated $120. I don't know who it is so I can't thank them, but I guess they must read this blog, so whoever you are, thank you. Between the three of us, Team Hollier-Pask (or Team HP for short) have raised $1335 for MS so far. Not too shabby.

Due to the rain I've not ridden for 3 days, so that's a bit bad. I didn't want to talk to my Wii Fit after it told me that my 2 weeks of riding had gained me 2 kilos. Self esteem fail.

If you've not donated yet, please sponsor me! It's for a good cause and it's also tax deductable!

Ring a ding ding

It's an overcast, dreary evening, at the end of a week where the weather decided to skip from winter straight to summer, and then suddenly remembered its supposed to do spring first. I spent the morning stretching my vocal chords (and spending some quality time with my new super best friend Bam the staffy) at Day Job Studios with Briscoe for what is going to be one hell of a record. We're about to head over to Matt & Cassie's place to partake in several wee drams of whiskey, but first I thought I best catch up on a few things.

I've taken to riding my bike as my main method of getting to work. Changing my thinking so that 'this is just what I do', rather than 'should I do this today?' seems to be working. There are only 36 days left until the Gong Ride and if I think too hard about that, it makes me quite anxious. So I just get up, get on the bike, get into work, and now it is just a part of my day. I can make it up the 'big hills' now - Terminus Street, Trade Street, and to a lesser extent, Albermarle Street, and while I always have to talk myself back to earth after Terminus, I'm definitely improving on some level.

I've been thinking a lot about the utilisation of a bicycle for making strangers laugh. You can ride straight in and out of the situation for maximum impact, which works if you get the laugh, but more importantly, works if you don't get the laugh and need to escape with embarrassment. Dogs are another good 'in' point. They are such a great catalyst for conversation.

Being a hesitant cyclist, I don't use my bell very often. Generally if I'm on the footpath, I probably shouldn't be, so I'll just trundle on behind pedestrians until I get a chance to move around them. I only use them if I'm on a bike path.

With these things in mind, Thursday's cycle was successful in 2 ways. I was coming home along Baltic Street, and 2 guys were sitting out on their front porch, singing with bar-room enthusiasm. One was vigorously strumming a ukelele and they seemed to come to the end of their piece just as I wheeled past. I rang the bell as my offering to the finale. One of them threw his hands up in the air in triumph and they both whooped and laughed. Thank you, occupants of Baltic Street, for being my second laughing stranger(s).

Coming up the home stretch, my legs fatigued and so I moved onto the footpath. A small curly-haired toddler seemed to think I was the most amazing thing he'd seen in ages. "Mum!" he hollered, "Mum! Bike! Bike! Bike!" As I went past, I rang my bell at him, and his little face lit up. "It's a nice one!" I overheard him exclaim to his mother, before yelling "BYE!" after me. I returned the farewell and rode the final block feeling pretty sunny inside.

The toddler didn't actually laugh so I can't count him, but I still thought it was a nice story.

The following night, my back light fell off and smashed and it took me ages to fumble around in the dark lane looking for where the batteries had rolled to. Then closer to home, I had my first altercation with the part of the chain coming off. For a while I flusterred over it, then I calmed down and realised it was very easy to fix. My hands got greasy. I think that means I'm a proper cyclist now.

My heart, it swells!

I’ve finished Part One of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, and am now emotionally committed to it. John Singer, the main protagonist, is a deaf-mute living alone after his best friend Spiros (also a deaf-mute) is put in an asylum. He seems content, big-hearted, steady. The locals take a shine to his quiet charm and soon he is confidante to a diverse group of townspeople – Mick, the daydreaming adolescent girl who hears music in places where there is none (I like her); Dr Copeland, the negro doctor whose intelligence and ambition has estranged him from his family (he means well but ultimately comes off like a bit of a jerk); Biff, the all-work no-play bar owner who no longer loves his wife; and Jake, the tragic drunkard. The heartbreaking part is that Singer sits in his dignified silence, reading the lips of these characters who can’t find solace anywhere else, and never offers anything back to them of himself. Instead, he leaves without warning to visit his committed friend, takes him gifts, and finally releases all his pent-up thoughts and feelings… and Spiros clearly couldn’t care less. It tore me up, man! What a bitch!

Anyway. I’m onto Part 2 and Mick is currently having a great epiphany about her large awkward father and about to throw a party so she can make friends at high school. She’s wearing a dress and that’s weird. I’m nervous for her.

Our Sydney to Gong ride gear arrived yesterday, which is very exciting. Ben is in the first group and has to leave at 6.30am (sucks to be you in the green bib) but I don’t set off until 8am (yay for white bibs). Ben will probably make it to Wollongong before I even get a chance to contemplate the first steep hill; this puts him in good stead to catch me as I stumble over the finish line in a melee of limbs. I had a photo taken with my number and my shirt on, but I look tragic and remarkably pregnant in it, so instead I will put up this photo of me and Husbandito to celebrate the fact we’ve hit 3 years together today. Let’s hear it, folks: awwwwww.

Kitchen epiphany

Cooked dinner for Carla & Jez on Friday night – my first risotto. It mostly went ok, but the rice wasn’t quite cooked even after all the stock had been absorbed, so Ben had to give me a few helpful pointers. He also made some kick-arse garlic bread and we added a salad to boot. And the verdict? They both had seconds and even admitted to being full at the end of it. With Jeremy being quite a strapping young lad and Carla having earned an extra appetite since picking up a uterus hitchhiker, that was an achievement in itself. Win! They’ve got the pictures on their camera so you’ll have to wait for the photos.

I’ve very quickly learnt that recipes aren’t really my bag. I’m one of these people that skims through cookbooks and food websites, kind of scrunches their nose up at everything, and then proceeds to make it up. Cooking is very different to baking, and I grew up clinging to Mum’s metaphorical (and literal) apron waiting for my opportunity to sift flour or stir in the chocolate bits, so I’m ok with baking. And baking requires strict adhesion to recipe. One of the joys I’m discovering with cooking is that I can just make stuff up as I go along, and as long as I don’t do anything too ridiculous, it’ll probably work out. It doesn’t really matter too much how many carrots you put in or how much wine gets added (although I find ‘just a bit more’ to be a good rule), just trust your taste buds. It’s fun.

I also spent an hour cycling around Centennial Park with Carly on Saturday morning. What a fantastic way to start the day! Sunshine, puppies, the wind in your face. We managed four laps and probably could have managed another hour. We took it at leisurely pace, maintained a conversation the whole way around, and it was a lot easier than I remember it being. The only problem was, I was knocked out by a headache in the afternoon, even after taking pre-emptive painkillers. I think I am allergic to endorphins. It sucks. Actually it is because I get "exertion headaches", even though I didn’t feel like I was exerting myself all that much. Stupid exercise. This could pose a problem on the day of the event, but this 'exercise intolerance' feels like such a cop out that I am determined to ignore them. The doctor says 1 in 100 people or so get them but there’s nothing I can do about it that I’m not already doing, so, whatever. Anyway, the moral of the story is, I can cycle for an hour without wanting to die, so that is very exciting news. I think it was about 15km or something, so now I know I can get at least a 6th of the way to Wollongong.

Sunday songwriting

A quiet Sunday. How unexpectedly lovely. I've done some chores, been reprimanded by my Wii Fit, watched some stupid videos on the internet, ate some spring rolls. Carly-le called and let me know she registered for the Sydney to Gong bike ride, so that's awesome. And I finished a song, which I've now sent to Jacob to listen to... it's harmony central in the world of Garageband. I spoke to Bart yesterday about the doubling up of certain tasks, but his postcard specifically mentioned that the song has to be about one of the challenges I'm doing. This was not one of those songs. I may have time to squeeze one in before dinner though. The actual process of writing a song isn't that difficult. It's writing one that doesn't suck that is the real struggle. The beauty of Bart's challenge is, the song doesn't necessarily even need to be 'good', in theory... it's just a method (although being 'good' would be a nice bonus). I'm aware I spend too much time overthinking my music. Being forced to write something once a month, without the pressure of it being for the band, is going to be very mind-opening for me. "Even G, C, and D can be beautiful if the vibe is right." Those 3 chords work for a reason, even if Matchbox 20 did ruin it for all of us for a while there.

I got 2 more postcards this week, so I currently have a total of 20 challenges. Receiving one from my old english teacher was amazing, as I wasn't actually sure I'd found her; and I can't say I wasn't relieved when another challenge arrived which was to merely read a certain book.... and it wasn't even Ulysses or War & Peace or anything painful like that (I tried to read Moby Dick once but must admit I was well and truly beaten by about page 30). A few more challenges like that one might be nice. If I am to complete a full 29 challenges in 52 weeks that means I have to average completion of one challenge every 1.7 weeks or so. And I'm already 2.5 weeks into this thing. Ah.

Next week is my very last week of crazy shit, and then I can concentrate on this a little more. Step 1: driving lessons. Oh yeah, and I'm cooking salmon tonight.

General update

Busy busy busy. Liv Tyler's character in Empire Records once said "my dad always said that there's 24 usable hours in every day", but she didn't spend 7.5 of them trying not to punch the Marketing Director in the face for his incessant tuneless whistling as he walks through an open plan office. This really affects my productivity in more ways than one.

Meditation is not so far helping me deal with such every day stresses, but that's probably because I'm still not in the swing of it. I need to commit to a dedicated time and space to do this, but the routine bothers me. I'm fumbling my way through it, some days more successfully than others. The bath seems to be a good place for me. I'm trying to find some good websites and maybe download some mp3s, but it has been too insane to properly spend any time on this yet. Jaimi also said she'd lend me some meditation material from when she was taking classes, so that will help too.

We've had visitors for the past 9 days and I'm going to see Jonsi tonight (from Sigur Ros! Much excitement), and nothing is really going to calm down until after the 13th, so I might as well just keep fumbling until then.

I've almost hit my target for the Sydney to Gong bike ride donations, which was $250 (the minimum required to be able to enter). So I upped the target to $400. After pay day I'll give everyone a little reminder about it... I'm feeling a lot less scared about it now but I wish it would stop raining and being so dark so I can get some practice on the new bike. There are maps available on the website so I can even check out the early sections of the route.

I have also done research on the break dancing, horse riding, licence-getting, gospel choir-ing, and TV game show-ing, but nothing solid is locked in yet. There are only so many weekends in a year and I need to plan mine pretty tightly.

The day is slipping away. Having all these visitors is excellent fun, but it's not helping me conquer my challenges right now. Gotta find time to write some songs before the 22nd too... oh boy.

We be riding a bike fo' charity, yo!

So, in rising to the challenge of one miss Carly-le, I have just registered for the Sydney to the Gong ride bike for MS. I was initially very excited about this, but my current emotional state on this latest action is wavering somewhere around the 'so terrified I might vomit a little bit' mark.

If you're feeling generous, you can donate some money here on my fundraising page. It will give you a sense of enormous well-being! In Australia, over 20,000 people currently have MS, but this figure is increasing as diagnosis methods become more advanced. There is no cure, so hopefully my pedal power will go a tiny way towards funding the research to finding one.

Still think I'm going to vomit... oh dear.