Thursday, November 1, 2018

Be Here Now


Be here now is about mindfulness.  It’s a pointer to awareness, to the true self, to the breath.  It’s an invitation to re-engage with the present moment, to re-connect to the truth, to let go of expectations and to release myself from the grip of the ego.  It’s a reminder of the hard lessons that I have learned these past years and that now that I know better that I should do better.  It’s about patience, presence and getting back to the elemental.  It’s about honestly acknowledging how I’m feeling instead of trying to hover above my feelings trying to avoid the truth.  It’s about sitting with my emotions, embracing them with compassion.  It’s about giving myself a hug every once in a while.  It’s about living authentically.

After years of working on myself in psychotherapy and five weeks of vacation last summer, when I felt the best that I had in a very long time, I made the mistake of thinking that I was finally done.  I made the mistake of believing that I was fully recovered.  After a relapse of concussion symptoms and the ensuing depression this fall, I now realize that complete healing is really but a fantasy.  We can only become less fucked.  Be here now is a reminder that I will always carry my concussion, my sexual abuse and the wear and tear of caring for a child with a chronic disease with me and that I need to honor my scars with more self-compassion.  It’s a reminder to lean into the unpleasant and difficult feelings on the bad days and to fully embrace the good days knowing that they are both always fleeting.

As an endurance athlete I have spent years suffocating the inner voice inside of me that fosters health, safety and reason in order to be able to fearlessly race my bike as fast as possible.  I have practiced silencing this voice for so long that it has become an automated response that now needs to be reprogrammed.  Be here now is a reminder every single time that I get on a bike to listen to that inner voice in order to keep me safe.  It’s about re-connecting with my instincts and intuition, slowing down and working with my body and its limits to keep me healthy and happy.

Be here now is my commitment to living in the moment as much as possible.  And having these words permanently etched on my forearm at the very least makes me accountable.  Now I’m just hoping that I can unapologetically walk this walk.  

#BeHereNow


Thursday, October 25, 2018

Derrick Keith



For the longest time, I only knew of Derrick Keith as the brother-in-law of a high school friend who rode motocross bikes.  My dream growing up was to be a motocross racer and I remember going to Derrick’s parents’ house in Riverview with friends when I was still in high school and my jaw dropping when I saw his MX bikes in the garage.  Even before knowing him he was already one of my heroes.



 Then in the late 90s, I met Derrick when he started racing mountain bikes.  We raced together in the same category and I witnessed his rapid progression first hand.  His dirt bike skills carried over to mountain biking and there was no question whatsoever that he was a natural on two wheels.  Never one to register to race in a lower category in order to win, he was still always a threat for ending up on the podium every time he entered a race.  I remember him catching me at a cyclocross race at the 4-Plex a few years ago and then so gently riding away.  I just couldn’t hold his wheel.  He was always there in the mountain bike races also, grinding the gears relentlessly, always smiling.  He was one of the racers who enjoyed it the most.  His persistent grin and grit were contagious.


MBS Cup Tuesday night race series podium 2008
MBS Cup Tuesday night race series podium 2008

There is also the legendary story of Derrick finishing the BC Bike Race with a broken cheekbone after a bad crash during one of the stages.  Not many riders would keep going after going down that hard.  But Derrick wasn’t the average rider.  Although soft-spoken and gentle, he was also tough as nails.  In 2015, Derrick had signed up for the 225 km distance in our annual Cyclebetes ride to cure Type 1 Diabetes.  The day ended up being super long and when we got to the 200 km / 225 km split in the course, as the organizers, we made the decision to cancel the 225 km ride distance in order to be able to finish before dark.  But Derrick had promised all of his donors that he was going to do the full 225 kms so when he got to the 200 km / 225 km intersection he insisted on doing the full distance; by himself.  You could see the determination in his eyes and I knew for sure that there was no way that I was going to convince him otherwise.  He finished his 225 km ride before dark; tired but with his huge trademark smile.



As much as his abilities on the bike were impressive, his kind and humble demeanor were what I admired most.  He was one of the kindest humans that I have ever met.  He would almost apologize when he beat you in a race.  And I have never seen him mad or pissed off.  I don’t think anything could have made him angry.  He was just such a gentle soul. 


Derrick was also always willing to help and give back.  The amount of volunteer work that he has done over the years for the Mike’s Bike Shop Challenge youth races as well as for the Sprockids learn to mountain bike program is beyond admirable.  And there was also all of the trail work that he tirelessly did with the Codiac Cycling Trails group.  Derrick was the kind of person always offering to lend assistance, even before being asked, even if he didn’t have any kids racing or any obligation whatsoever to be there.  He was such a good mentor for all young riders, bringing some of the kids from his neighborhood to the BMX track every Wednesday night for open track practice.  And there was also the time when he brought those same kids to the Elgin fall mountain bike race and rode the shorter distance race with them.  I was all done my own race and all cleaned up when I noticed Derrick crossing the line with the kids.  I’m not sure why but I think that they called themselves “Team Tobias”.  And there was also that time when I was riding with Derrick and I crashed and landed on my head during a Tuesday night MTB race in Rotary Park in 2016.  Derrick immediately stopped and asked if I was OK and I told him to keep racing as I sat on the side of the trail still in a daze.  The world would be so much better with more Derricks in it.  We all know that our time here is limited, that we all have an expiration date and that we don’t decide when our number eventually comes up.  Thanks for showing us how to live fully and generously in the meantime Derrick.


The very first Mike's Bike Shop Cyclebetes ride 2008 - Derrick on the far left

For the last few years the Mike’s Bike Shop Cyclebetes ride to cure Type 1 Diabetes has been giving an award to the most deserving riders, those who continuously go above and beyond in fundraising and continue to ride year after year.  I never got to give you that award Derrick.  I’m so very sorry.  You were going to be the next recipient and you deserved it more than anyone else.  Even when you were sick in the hospital and couldn’t ride this year you sent a friend to pay for your registration the day of the ride.  Thank you so very much for every single thing that you have done for cycling, Mike’s Bike Shop Cyclebetes, the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation and Type 1 Diabetes over the years.  The award is still yours; I just regret not giving it to you in person.



You had such a huge heart Derrick.  Thanks for inspiring me to try to grow mine as big as yours.  Rest easy my friend.  May the single track in heaven be buff and flowy and may the wind be at your back when you’re out in the open sections.  Ride in peace.  See you on the other side.  You will be missed Derrick Keith.  



My deepest condolences to your family and friends…

Peace
Mike

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

Whitewall Wisdom



I’m not sure but I think I was 5 years old when I learned how to ride a bike.  I do know for sure that I wanted to learn so bad and taught myself without the help of training wheels in a single day.  I remember rolling down our slightly inclined driveway with the neighbor’s bike many times that day before I eventually figured out how to keep my balance.  My parents were both working and I was so very proud and eager to show them what I had learned.  That same evening, my dad took me out and bought me my first 2 wheel bike.  It was white with whitewall tires and a banana seat.  We lived near Boston at that time and I remember my dad literally tying that bike to the roof of our green station wagon with wood panelled doors as we were getting ready for our summer vacation in Canada.  Bike racks didn’t really exist yet.  My dad just laid the bike sideways on the roof and tied it to the side rails.  I hated leaving my friends when we went to Canada but it made me feel good that my bike was coming with me.  I remember going on rides with my dad when we lived in the US.  We rode out to parks and playgrounds, exploring outside of our immediate neighborhood, my young mind so very excited about the sudden expansion of my outside world, my first taste of what pure freedom felt like.  I realized at that moment that there was and will always be some very cool spots to be discovered out there.  At its core, I believe that riding a bicycle is, in its purest form, about exploration.  Most of the fondest memories of my youth are of discovering new places on my bike.

 
From the minute we come into this world until the day that we die, we are continuously building or molding our identities, our egos.  This is a continuous life-long process, but definitely the foundation of how we see ourselves is constructed during childhood.  Our minds are programmed or sculpted by our life experiences, by what we’ve heard and what we’ve been told.  Before BMX racing became a legit thing where I lived, my friends and I were just kids riding around town on our little kids’ bikes, outcasts really since we didn’t play the conventional summer sports like baseball and soccer that society recognized.  But then in the early 80s, adults became involved in BMX racing and instantly gave it credibility.  The grown-ups had access to tractors and machinery required to move large amounts of dirt to build bigger jumps and legitimate tracks with wooden start gates.  They charged an entry fee and offered trophies on the line and that’s all that was needed to transform what we had been doing all along into a real sport.  It’s funny how that works.  And as soon as adults and parents got involved, BMX became “popular” with more kids suddenly wanting to participate.  That’s how much influence adults and parents have on their children.  


Kids, and even adults possibly to a lesser extent, are constantly seeking recognition, proof that they matter and belong as they try to build and develop their self-worth, their ego.  Looking back, I could say that my motivation to race bikes came from a need to feel the thrill of speed and the feeling of flying over the jumps, but the more that I think about it now, I realize that at it’s core it was more about being seen, becoming someone, being recognized and talked about.  Racing bikes satisfied my primal need for belonging enabling me to prove my worth in front of an audience in search of praise from adults and peers.  Most, if not all, kids dream of one day becoming a hero and I saw bike racing as my opportunity to impress.  I felt like I had finally found my niche.  I finally had the audience that I craved.


Once the local BMX racing scene died, I found my audience through BMX Freestyle or stunt riding.  Me and my friends loved to ride in busy areas trying relentlessly to impress anyone who would take the time to stop and notice the tricks that we had spent so much time mastering.  Performing in BMX shows gave me a platform and had a huge influence slowly building my identity as a bike rider.  We become what people tell us we are.  Looking back, the line between my love of riding and the attention that my bike riding persona gave me was most certainly blurred.  In high school, my best friend and I were known as the BMX guys.  We didn’t just ride bikes, it was who we were.


As a parent I can’t help but notice how kids’ sports have grown and gotten more serious since my own childhood.  The adults and parents have taken it to the next level.  I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing?  It surely is good for creating the next generation of champions, stronger and faster than those past, but is that what our kids need?  I always wonder if the kids who seem so passionate about their sport are really in love with the game or with the attention that they get when they excel as a player?  Absent parents, both physically and emotionally, are so common today that I wonder if our kids push themselves for the love of the game or for something much deeper. Attention starved kids will go to great lengths for their parents to notice them.  Some will act up, others will bury themselves in a game that was initially just meant to be for fun because they notice how much it makes the adults in their life proud.  Too many adults and parents have made their kids sports about them and that really makes me sad.  

After not riding too much for a few years during my years at university I missed my bike and eventually got into mountain biking.  And this eventually led to racing which gave me the audience that I unconsciously still sought.  With spectators watching the race and published results, racers really tend to feel like they’re doing something special.  Athletes are revered for their bravery and willingness to put it all out there.  We say that we race for the challenge but a very big part of it is for the applause.  Humans are really but insecure animals that continuously need to prove their power.  We are also in constant fear of death, searching for a way to immortalize our competencies.  It isn’t enough to be told that we are all already powerful, sufficient and complete enough.  We need a measurable way to prove our worth.  Published race results are a visible display unconsciously proving that we matter, that we’re good at something. 


Society puts way too much emphasis on sporting results.  It’s gotten out of hand really.  Just look at professional athlete salaries.  It’s ridiculous.  They’re not saving lives or anything.  They’re just playing a game.  They’re paid to entertain.  That’s it really.  One may argue that they inspire?  What inspires is the human suffering involved.  Lately I have been asking myself if the reason behind this suffering really is something worth suffering for?  The only reason why such an effort inspires is because society has marketed it like that.  External accomplishments are really but a cheaper substitute to true bravery.  I now see internal growth as the bravest thing that you can do in this life.  The results are often very subtle and often go unnoticed and that’s why it takes true courage to sit down and try to understand your shit.  You don’t need to try to fix it.  You just need to understand and accept it, to make friends with it as part of your entire self.  That takes true courage and bravery.  It’s the most important work that you can do for yourself, your family and humankind.  True heroes are not hard and chiselled.  They are soft and empathetic.  The world needs more true heroes.


Nowadays when I ride, I no longer look for an audience.  I actually seek the opposite.  Solitude is what I’m searching for as I connect with my introverted self.  I tend to look for remote areas to ride in.  I prefer riding alone.  I realize that as a Strava user I am unconsciously seeking praise by posting my rides online collecting kudos, but when I’m out there actually riding, I best like not being noticed.  Riding has become a personal and internal thing for me now.  No training, no intervals, no indoor rides, just me and my bike, outside, interacting with nature.  If you NEED a group to ride with or to sign up for a race or an event to motivate you to get out and ride, I think that you’re doing it all wrong.  Take the time to look around during your ride and notice the beauty around you.  Smell the air, feel the wind on your face and legs.  Feel the breath moving in and out of your lungs and your heart beat as your legs spin circles.  Take it all in and by all means don’t go ruin the experience by wearing headphones listening to music.  If you call yourself a cyclist, life doesn’t get much better than that right there.  One day, you won’t be able to ride anymore and unless you’re already dead you’ll miss it so very much.  Unlike what society preaches, faster is definitely not necessarily better.  Nature is never in a hurry.  Ride like nature.


Will I ever race again?  If I had to answer right now I would say no, but I really don’t know what will happen in the future.  I know that right now racing is not what I need and what I am supposed to be doing even if at times part of me really, really misses it.  That part of me is my ego and he’s kindof an asshole, so I try real hard not to take him seriously.  Why is it so difficult to let that part of me die peacefully?  I’m pretty sure that it’s just part of being an insecure human animal.


A wise man once told me that there is a time and age for competitive sports in one’s life and I agree.   As we get older, our actions have more consequences.  Be it a bad diet, lack of exercise or falling down, it is a fact that every single one of these gets more expensive the older we get after the prime years.  It is always a matter of the risk being worth the reward and for me it doesn’t seem worth it anymore.  I understand that shit can happen every time you hop on a bike.  I just can’t seem to justify adding a bunch of other riders around me gunning for a good result and upping my efforts into the zone that gets you cross-eyed.  As much as I sound like a bitter, washed-up, has-been racer who simply can’t keep up anymore, the truth is that only my ego sees it this way, not my true self.  Bike racing has been a very large part of my life up until the last few years and I am grateful for all that it has given me.  

Now don’t get me wrong, this post isn’t about trying to convince you that racing is a bad thing or a complete waste of time.  If you want to pin on a number and line up at the start line in this weekend’s race by all means do, but I strongly suggest that you think about your “why?”.  And it’s always more than just “because it’s fun”.  There is always something deeper that pushes us.  Like with a crime case, there is always a motive behind every action.  It’s up to you to dig inside with true honesty in order to find yours.  If you’re constantly chasing that endorphin “high”, you may want to ask yourself what you’re trying to numb or run away from?   

One thing that I do know for sure that racing isn’t the best thing about riding a bike.  I learned that as a young boy the first time that I rode out of our neighborhood on my banana seat bike with whitewall tires.

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Overflowing gratitude


Photo credit Luc Arseneau
 
It was still only early November, but it felt like the dead of winter.  Days were getting shorter and temps had dropped drastically, the white snow-covered landscape and the white salt-stained streets made it feel more like the cold harsh days of January.  After close to a week in the hospital, we were all very tired and eager to go home and start this new life.  We didn’t really feel ready to leave yet and play this Type 1 game on our own.  We were still very dependent on the hospital staff since there was just so much information that we were still trying to absorb since the diagnosis.  But we were homesick and wanted out.  The only thing that we needed to do in order to be released was to give Adele her insulin injection.  The nurses wouldn’t be home with us and knowing that this was the deal for the “rest of Adele’s life” I figured that I just needed to man-up and get used to stabbing my 2 year old baby with a needle since we were going to have to do it many times each and every day from now on even if it made me nauseous just thinking about it.

We needed at least one person to hold Adele down while the other did the injection.  Even if it was close to 16 years ago, I still vividly remember the first injection that I gave her, trying so desperately to be gentle, all the while noticing that I needed to push harder and harder on the damn needle before it finally pierced through my baby’s skin.  It’s like her skin was resisting the injection as much as I was.  The moment felt like an eternity.  I felt like puking and crying at the same time but I just stuffed it all up inside and did what I had to do.  I just couldn’t accept that this was going to be it for the rest of her life…  And that’s when I promised that I would do whatever I could to try to fix this.  I would do whatever I could to try to fix this for Adele.  I would do whatever I could to try to fix this for the family that is going through the exact same thing in a hospital somewhere right now.  I didn’t know it then, but looking back that was the moment that the Cyclebetes seed was planted.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

A whole lot has changed since that day in November.  My body is certainly much more weathered and worn out after all these years of playing this Type 1 game, but then again I also feel a bit wiser because of it.  Adele still hates the needles even after thousands of injections since her diagnosis in 2002.  And I am still keeping my promise to do what I can to try to fix this.  My pace has certainly slowed down but progress is progress and I still feel like we are getting closer to a Type 1 cure and better treatments with JDRF funded research projects like glucose-responsive insulin, the artificial pancreas, islet cell encapsulation and so many others.  The long-term outcome of a Type 1 Diabetes diagnosis has never looked so good. 

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

Deep down I believe that humans all long to make a difference.  We are all seeking purpose.  There is an inherent part of us that wants to and needs to help others.  How do we change the world?  We change the world by doing many seemingly insignificant good little things every single day in our little part of the world.  It all adds up in the end.  And the sum is a life lived with meaning.  That’s what can change the world.  Cultivate the compassion in you and let it seep into everything that you do.  Do your little part and leave a legacy.

Photo credit Sarah Lord

I am very happy to report that the 11th annual Mike’s Bike Shop Cyclebetes ride to cure Type 1 Diabetes raised $20,000 for JDRF!  That brings our total to over $220,000 raised since 2007!  Looking at these numbers I realize that this isn’t a small feat for such a small bunch of cyclists; possibly even more impressive is the fact that next year will be our 12th year.  So many events like this die after a few years.  Like the 24-7, no vacations ever work required to play the Type 1 game, we must persist.  Insulin is not a cure.  It is only life-support.  We deserve better.  We deserve a cure.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

The Mike’s Bike Shop Cyclebetes ride to cure Type 1 Diabetes cause is and will always be mine but the event itself now really belongs to our main sponsor, Mike’s Bike Shop.  Rick Snyder, thank you so much for stepping up and running with the event.  Your generosity and undying support continue to amaze me each and every year.  The MBS Cyclebetes ride would simply not exist, especially after 11 years, without you.  Thank you also to the rest of the organizing committee who give so much of their time and energy throughout the year.  Thank you so very much Pablo Vergara and Luc Belliveau for all that you do for Cyclebetes and JDRF.  Thank you Gilles Gallant, NB and PEI JDRF engagement coordinator for all your help which goes beyond your expected role at JDRF.  The MBS Cyclebetes ride wouldn’t exist without your involvement.  We do make a very good team.  I am so very grateful to have people like you in my life that I can call amazing friends.  Thank you.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

Thank you Brett Wilson, JDRF kids ambassador and his parents Carrie and Jason for accepting to make an appearance at the ride just in time for the group photo.  Thank you Carrie, as well as Brett, for your speech before the afternoon group left for their ride.  You embody the innocent faces behind Type 1 Diabetes and reminded everyone what the ride was really about.  Thank you.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

Thank you all that rode and fundraised.  I am always floored by your generosity and willingness to help get us closer to a cure.  A special thank you to the riders who really went above and beyond, putting in the extra effort in order to reach and even surpass their lofty fundraising goals, especially those with no ties to Type 1 Diabetes.  I hope that you all enjoyed the ride and event!  Thank you.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

Thank you Luc Arseneau for the awesome event photos.  I know that was a HUGE undertaking with an incredible amount of effort involved.  Thank you so much for stepping up to the challenge and delivering with an amazing collection of shots that will forever remind us of such an awesome day.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

Thank you to all of our sponsors:  Scotiabank, Sobey’s in Dieppe, MacDonald Buick GMC, Giant bikes / Guy Pellerin of Pellerin Sports, City of Dieppe, Cavok Brewing Co., Cape Bald Packers, Terry Tomlin of Tomlin Sports Marketing, Starbucks, Kevin Noiles of Lambert, Pat Bolduc of Big Ring Sports, Nomad Supply Co.,  Trek Bicycles / Bontrager, Mexicali Rosa’s, Moxie’s Bar and Grill, Dooly’s, Dieppe Imaging,  DNA Swag Inc., Dieppe IGA / Coop, Long and McQuade, Vins Dandurand, Chris Mitton and Jim Currie.  Thank you.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

And last but certainly not least, thank you to all of our other dedicated volunteers:  Jeff Currie, Bill Goobie, Martin Pelletier, Charles Cormier, Diane Duguay, Janice Evers, Gerry Allain, Elmer Wade, Pete Cormier, Brian Bourgeois and Dyane, Steve Kikkert, Serge Noel, Rhonda Currie, Caroline Belliveau, Tania Morais, Rachel Parkins and Michele LeBlanc.  Events like these can’t happen without help from people like you.  Thank you. 

If I have forgotten anyone, I apologize and want to thank you as well.

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

We are already starting to plan the 12th edition of Mike’s Bike Shop Cyclebetes.  Mark the date: Saturday, September 7th, 2019.  I really hope that you can join us !

Photo credit Luc Arseneau

All online fundraising pages will still work until the end of the year so you can still donate here...  2018 Mike’s Bike Shop Cyclebetes Ride to Cure Type 1 Diabetes.

I am forever humbled by your love and support…
Peace
Mike