Extended Stay Bike Tour

The Bike Tour.

The unrelentingly fierce wind screamed through my ears and pulled me backwards like long invisible coils as I struggled to push each peddle down one after the other for an eternity. Each downward push of each peddle sent agonising throbs through my quads as I forced them, despite their desperate pleas of pain to stop, to continue. Yet for all the effort that the peddling required, I moved at an excruciatingly slow speed. Every possible force seemed to work against me-even my sore body, so it was up to me, my willpower and scroggin to fight against the odds. Finally the steep slope evened out to a forgivingly flat road. The pain faded and I regained control over everything…except the wind.

That was the beginning of what was to become some of the most physically challenging few days of my life.

The 170 kilometre bike tour seemed an exigent task when our some of our classes’ fears were confirmed when we were informed that it was a compulsory part of the demanding Extended Stay Program. I however, was looking forward to the test, especially the fact that it would contribute in my aim to get much fitter in preparation for the upcoming football season. I knew it would be difficult though-I mean, I’ve never ridden further than 6 kilometres in one go! Anxious as I was about getting stitches throughout the riding, I was never plagued by them at any time. My unfit body wasn’t nearly primed for the first assault that it had coming. An entire 50 kilometres of rough gravel roads into the wind! On the first day! I thought that Peter and Jackie, the ride co-ordinators, would take us on a warm-up ride. As hard and uncomfortable as it was, (especially the second stage after lunch) I felt relieved, but I also felt a sense of accomplishment. I had done it! Without having to get off of my bike at any stage!

The following days of riding became easier and easier. My skills grew as well as my confidence with every metre. There were some difficult parts, especially the part when, after 43 kilometres of riding in Innes National Park, we had too climb up an unbelievably steep mountain. 500 meters of pure, non-stop, slow moving agony. My legs ached and burned with every push. At long last I resigned to dropping my gears to the lowest ratio when my legs flatly refused to push any further. This reduced my speed greatly, making the peddling just bearable. Halfway up the mountain there was a minor crash resulting from one of my peers breaking down into a mini asthma attack. I wanted to stop and help-I wanted an excuse to stop but Peter bellowed from behind to keep moving. I had no choice; I had to continue to burn my already charcoaled body into the ground. Ultimately I finished without stopping. However, I couldn’t envisage myself ever riding again; my legs were absolutely spent. As I looked around I saw exhausted but happy faces exchanging words of congratulations to each other.
We all slept well that night.