Live and Let Dai

i seriously don’t have the energy to hold down two keys at the same time, so pardon the lack of capital letters…

Oh fine, in the interest of readability I’ll push myself that extra mile … even though I’ve already cycled about 50 today. Yes, you heard me right. I rode 50 miles today on my Chinese knock-off Giant bike.

If I had been traveling vertically instead of horizontally, I would have qualified at NASA to be an astronaut. If I had pedaled off the coast of Florida, I would have reached the Bahamas. If I were an elephant, that’s how far I would walk in one whole day.

None of that really matters or even makes sense, though. The point is that I rode my bike FIFTY freakin’ miles. It’s even more impressive to talk about kilometers:
So, how far did you ride today, Sharon?
Oh, around 80 kilometers, I suppose.
Wow! You must be quite a fantastic athlete! Whoops, you’re tipping over again. Atta girl, hold that body upright.

Since moving to Laos, I’ve heard legends of a mighty group of cyclists who rode from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, an uphill journey of nearly 400 kilometers. My friend, Whetu, and I embraced the abstract concept of this challenge and began “training.”

We take an early morning spin around the city three times a week … except when one of us had a bit too much to drink the night before and/or didn’t get a good night’s sleep and/or had the sniffles and/or couldn’t bear to leave the snuggly comfort of sleep. In such cases, the other person always feels a wee bit of guilty relief to get the text message: “Sorry no ride today. See ya at school.” More often than not, our stick-to-it-iveness has surprised even ourselves.

Earlier this week, we officially joined Team Dai (pronounced “die” unfortunately). One of the organizers explained: “The team name means ‘Can do’… as in ‘anything,’ referring to the ability for a team of committed energetic people to achieve amazing things that they’d never dream of individually.”

This year, Team Dai will ride to Phonsavan, about 400 kilometers northeast of Vientiane, and home of the mysterious Plain of Jars.

Today was the team’s first Saturday training ride. I didn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning with anxiety that (a) my alarm wouldn’t go off, (b) Whetu and I wouldn’t be able to find the group at the meeting place, (c) Whetu and I WOULD find the group and they’d all be comparing notes on their most recent endurance cycling events, or (d) they would ride too fast, and I’d be left in the dust.

We both have punctuality issues, so we showed up at the Patuxai parking lot at 6:10 for the 6:30 a.m. ride. We looked for other potential Team Dai members but saw only men walking backwards, a guy riding in circles on an old beat-up bike with a Laos flag, young people doing stomach crunches on the park benches, and barefoot children who couldn’t peel their eyes off us.

Finally about a dozen other riders showed up. The team’s training coordinator, Nick, gave us a primer on hand signals and riding etiquette and then explained the day’s route. We were heading out to the Friendship Bridge and then doubling back, taking a loop around the outskirts of Vientiane and then pedaling back into the heart of town for breakfast at a popular café.

The group maintained a steady but do-able pace, and I enjoyed getting to know this diverse bunch of expats. The riders I met were from England, Luxembourg, Germany, Sweden, Australia, and France, and they all had such interesting stories about their work and travels in Laos. Chatting with them made time pass quickly, and soon we were heading back towards town.

Just as my tummy started rumbling in anticipation of hot thick coffee and fried eggs, Nick turned back and shouted, “Do you guys want to keep riding?” I nearly toppled off my gel seat when the group shouted, “Sure!” So we turned AWAY from town. I refused to let dangerously low blood sugar and ruptured hamstrings quash my enthusiasm, so I stuck with the pack even as a few others veered off for home. I reluctantly waved good-bye to Whetu, who had a flight to catch.

Eventually, the only thing that kept me going was a meditative mantra: Breakfast, breakfast, breakfast, coffee, coffee, coffee … When we pulled up to the restaurant, there were only six of us left. They seemed unfazed by today’s accomplishment, but I refuse to diminish what my flabby body did. That 3-day challenge no longer seems impossible (daunting … unpleasant … kind of insane, really, but not impossible).

In case you missed it the first few times, I rode my bicycle for 50 MILES!!!