On cycling and death

It’s now Saturday ‘avo (12^th Feb) & it’s raining, which is lovely. I’ve spent the afternoon working, after a solo ride this morning, followed by a short swim with the team. On the Iron Man front, I’ve been back on the bike most days since returning to Oz and managed to do a fair bit of swimming into the bargain.  The bike was in for some overdue maintenance last week so I took the opportunity to have a surf on both mornings. The water’s been a warm 23 -24C and at 6am that works well.  The surf was small and fun and it’s nice to be back on the board. When the bike came back I joined Enda and Marc for a ride with Tony Golden’s group in Centennial Park. It’s quiet the scene. There were a lot of cyclists there. Tony Golden runs the track group at Sydney Athletic Park that we attend (when I’m able to run) and he also organises the BRATS cycling group that rides every Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and then do a long ride on Saturday mornings.  Enda and Marc disappeared up the hill with one of the faster groups and I joined the rest.  The groups broke into lots of 10  and off we went.  There’s lots of noise exchanged between people in each group as they shout instructions about any upcoming peril: slowing, stopping; on ya right; on ya left;  and so on. And then there’s the protocol of how you roll.  I’d been as deaf as a door post all week with ears full of wax, so I couldn’t hear the instructions at the start of the session.  I jumped in with the first group to kick off and soon figured out that that was a mistake. They rode way too fast for me and after 3 rounds I gave them away and settled back with the next group that rode past.  At the end of the session, Sean, the first group’s lead rider, introduced himself and we chattered about the IM in Busso and the amount of training I still have to get through before 4^th Dec this year.  I’m back with the cyclists next Tuesday morning. 

Occasionally when I’m on the bike (& weirdly always when I’m on a long flight) I marvel at how precarious life actually is and how easily & quickly it can come to an end. Not sure if others ever think of this stuff, but for whatever reason I give it some thought from time to time.  I’m actually one of those weird people who read the death notices in the Herald to see who’s checked out before me. And talking of checking out, if you want to live a little on the edge and be reminded of your mortality, try cycling in Sydney.  It can get quite scary and somewhat dangerous, and it’s always the driver’s fault (almost). Just ask Marc!

In my 20s, 30s and even 40s I took lots of things for granted, though I was aware from an early age that life can be shorter than any of us plan it to be. It’s a bugger like that. People die. My Dad, John, died in the 1960s (I think it was 1966 when he was only 41 years old) and I was 11. Then mates died or were killed while we were students at college. People like Tim Martin, a super talented athlete and student who became a pharmacist, and managed to win every girls’ heart with his charm and good looks. But he was also bi-polar and died of a drug overdose in his twenties. Then there was Steve Franks who was killed in his first year of teaching in a car accident, along with a number of others, and Mark Pitchford from school, who died of HIV/AIDS. And I went out with Sandra Barrasso when I started teaching and she was killed in a car accident on the way home from work one day after we said goodbye in the school car park. And I’ve been best mates now with three other blokes since I was a teenager; Phil, Pete & Steven.  I shared a place in Edgecliff with Pete & Steve when we were new teachers. Steve was unlucky enough to be one of the first gay men to be infected with HIV/AIDS in the 1980s when it was not well understood. He was a brilliant, talented guy and died a young man in his late 20s. He was incredibly angry when he realised he was going to die, as I guess you would be under those circumstances, though he threw a party a month or so before that where we all went along and reminisced about things. It was a fun night as I remember.  And then mates such as Robert and Roger who also died of HIV/AIDS and Pete’s brother Ian who drowned when he was 19yrs old, and the list goes on. (And BTW there have been 27 million people die of HIV/AIDS.  That’s a lot of you and me!)  Then the great sadness in our family when our little one, Gabrielle, died on 27^th December 2000, not long before she would have turned 7yrs old.  It’s enough for me to want to make the most of every day.

So being active is part of that deal. If you live in Bondi, or Coogee or Bronte or anywhere on the coast and you’re not outside, soaking up the world’s best weather, then maybe you’re not living life to the max.  I know I am. I also know people who don’t experience anything like the brilliant conditions we live in here, and they manage to be active and busy and rarely complain. And then there’s me Mum, Margaret.  She’s 82, swims every day of the year down at North Wollongong Beach, or in the Continental Baths (now there’s a pool name worth thinking about, went hang gliding for her 70^th birthday, regularly hits the theatres and restaurants in Sydney with her mates, attends the University of the 3^rd Age (U3A), plays cards 3 times a week and somehow manages never to be at home when you call. She’s managed to have six kids, two husbands, 23 grandkids, a heart operation, two pace makers, multiple broken bones over the years including a broken back and ankle, various stitches and other injuries along the way, and never misses a beat.  That’s living life to the max.  I’m looking forward to more of the same for her and for yours truly.

And as a PS: our running team has a 4^th member – DeeDee Hosty from Claremorris in County Mayo in western Ireland is joining us in the marathon training (from a distance).  I’ll keep you up with her progress. J