Hat Over the Wall

There’s an Irish parable about two old guys who need to get over a high, brick wall. They try to get around it, dig under it, and climb over it, all to no avail. Finally they look at each other and, without saying a word, throw their hats over the wall at the same time. Now they have to get over the wall. This ride is like that for me: I don’t know how I’ll do it, and I’m not entirely clear what possessed me to commit to something so entirely irrational in the first place, but I’ll figure it out. Riding to Mexico: my hat over the wall adventure.

The ride is a fundraiser for microfinance: small loans to entrepreneurs in developing countries. The idea is simple. If you give small, trust-based loans to people who were previously considered ‘unbankable’, they’ll pull themselves out of poverty. They’ll pull their families and countries out as well. It stops modern-day slavery in the form of usurious money-lenders. It empowers women, and it works. Kiva.org is a popular way for people to donate money to microfinance institutions: of its 6.7 million dollars in loans whose terms have ended, the default rate is 0.3%. Poor people pay back the money because they have no choice: this is their only chance to break the cycle.

I spent last year in Southern Africa as a media trainer, producing documentaries about primary education and rural HIV testing. In my travels I saw perfectly capable and able-bodied mothers standing on the side of the road waiting for an aid truck, for the chance of a bag of rice. I realized these women are neither stupid nor lazy, that they are no less human than I am. Then I met Gogo Lamazia. (Gogo means grandmother.) She has lost her four daughters to AIDS and her son – also HIV positive – has left her. She’s old and arthritic and is raising 3 grandsons in a decaying stick hut. She showed me the vegetables she’s trying to grow, but every time something breaks the surface the local goats eat her efforts. If she could grow the food she could feed the boys and even sell the surplus at the local market. All she needs is a fence. That’s about a ten-dollar loan.

So I’m riding to Mexico. I’ll join about 25 other crazy people to cycle six days a week for seven weeks from here to Tijuana, stopping along the way to raise money and awareness for microfinance. We’ll ride along the west-coast highway an average of 80 – 130 kilometres a day. Here’s the thing, though: I’m not so much a cyclist. I’ve never even really been a terribly fit person. I bought my bike for the ride a few weeks ago… it’s the first bike I’ve ever owned without a kick stand. Clearly, I needed some help.

It dawned on me early on that my gym, Studeo 55, is the place I should turn. Everyone always seems so happy and supportive of one another; clients and trainers are serious about what they’re up to without being intimidating or competitive. It really feels like a community. When I signed up for the ride, Studeo was the natural place to turn for help. Help came, and a lot of it. Darren has given me everything from my body fat ratio (not going in print) to a specific schedule of resistance and cycling workouts from the day I started with him until the day I leave. Some days I like that schedule more than others, but I’m sticking to it (for the most part). The results are more inspiring to me than the ride itself, now.

Because of my training, I am the fittest I’ve ever been. I am happier. I have more energy. I have a sense of accomplishment everyday. Most importantly, however, I now relate to myself and others as someone who is true to her word.

http://studeo55.ca/