The challenge draws to an end, or maybe not?

I am in the last week of my annual 6 week challenge. I relinquish my car, whom the family calls Milly, and take up cycling to raise money for Breast Cancer.
This year I will have raised slightly less than previous years, but this year I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to participate at all.
An eleventh hour reprieve by the Doc and I was victory- booty dancing on the spot

By heaven, by hell high water, a broken bone or few, a series of unfortunate circumstances and a dodgy blood supply wasn't going to rain on my 6 week parade!
However it did rain, a lot, literally.

Though I had left it a tad late to pull out the cap and say "please give so others may live", my regular sponsors didn't mind digging deep to help.

Dad the diligent lovely dad he was, wasn't going to let me learn to drive unless I could change a tyre on a car, but he never showed me how to on a bike!
One long lonely road, a drenching down pour and a flat tyre got me thinking. I took the opportunity while speaking with Sarah from NRMA in regards to extending 'Roadside Assist' to cater for bicycles. Sarah might have been laughing at the story but she loved the idea.  I really could have done with the help, that is if help in the guise of a man with a 'Ute in dry armour' hadn't turned up. He had a towel too!

This year has been the first year the challenge has been tough. Physically I am at a low, so a few times I have had to stop, get off and rest; a first for me.

A few spare minutes while waiting for Little Miss Mischief to get her morning act into gear one morning, I chose the time to whip out the domestic goddess in me and clean the bathroom. Remind me NOT to invite her out again.
One slight misplacement and I went crashing face first into the bath tub while one foot slammed down hard on the ceramic edge. The pain, the swelling and the quick emergence of the colour purple spreading across the foot was enough to know I wasn't going to be able to cycle the 7 km's to our local hospital with LMM in tow.
LMM called 000 before I could yell out I was OK,
"Shh" she calls out "I'm on the phone!". I hear her talking to the operator . She lets them know I have fallen in the bath, I can't get out, I am not dead. I'm calling out "give me the phone". I'm panicking because it's not an emergency its just a catastrophe.
She walks in, in nurse mode, 'The lady wants to talk to you" handing me the phone. I realise how wet I am, lying there in the bath gritting my teeth and breathing gasps of pain. LMM holds my hand, stroking my hair, softly whispering it will be OK and can she stay home to look after me.

Explaining to the 000 operator that I am indeed OK, I will call my hubby instead.
He's stuck in a car park called the M7 when LMM calls him. He's luckily on the inside lane, so an easy u-turn and a dash home.
The doctor is in two minds about the type of cast after looking at the xrays. I ended up cutting the cast off a few days later. I don't recommend doing that.

My old bike like everything else, is too tall for me technically. A few falls haven't turned me off, but the cast and sore foot made me realise I needed to do this properly once and for all. A visit to Hawkesbury Cycles has me fitted with a specially designed bike that caters for short people like me or less agile. A vintage step through design, ergonomically enhanced, costing more than registering a car but worth it. Almost effort free to ride.
I christened her "Bessie" a vintage name for a vintage bike. My challenge companion.

I was excited riding Bessie home late last night after a Tafe class. I got to see how powerful her headlight was as I rode through the paddocks on my way home. The gel cushion seat cover my son Drue got me for Mother's Day was even more appreciated. Its a pity I cant get heating, so I rode faster and harder on such a cold breezy night.

Sunday might be the official end of this years chapter and the pledges come in, but I might just let Milly go into retirement for a little while longer as I really am enjoying this.

It's my own way of giving, helping, my little bit of paying it forward. Besides I owe somebody.


I owe to my best friend Maxine. A comrade in arms, a fellow adventurer and the only living person I know that really loved the fact that I was shorter than her. For a good part of the 37 years of friendship we had, she humoured me with her comic genius, her everlasting endearing smile outshone any other. She brightened the world where ever she went.
There's a emptiness so profound, so deep, I wonder if my heart will ever recover saying goodbye.

Dedicated to Maxine Lyons
1961 - 2010