I was camping one day at Porteau Cove. I was tired. I was exhausted and understimulated by this stay-at-home parenting thing.

I have enjoyed so much of it but I was bored. I had been playing around with a lot of options. Should I go back to work? Should I take a class? Should I get involved with an organization and volunteer?

I had plenty of time to ponder these questions and I ended up feel more and more frustrated.

I was walking with the boys down some train tracks early in the morning. We couldn’t go anywhere because there was a biking event going on that had restricted the highway. The riders were whizzing past. I had driven up and down the Sea to Sky Highway thousands of times. I had never thought of riding a bike up it – that is crazy.

Then I got an idea.

I could do that.

I could ride 122 km, mostly up hill. I am stubborn. I have grit. If I decide I will. Or so I thought. Having not ridden a bike in about five years and having never done a ride more than four or five kilometres (except for a brief summer a bike commuted a handful of times almost 10 years earlier).

So it was decided. I would ride the Whistler Gran Fondo. I just needed to figure out how.

*Update – what happened next: My First Fondo*