The Journey Of Santa Barbara

A non-profit club with a strong commitment to fundraising initiatives, Gastown Cycling encourages friendship and fitness through cycling. Sergio has been riding since the 1980’s and is currently a Director serving on the Club’s Executive. He has witnessed first-hand the dramatic growth in his sport. Over the years Sergio has seen the sport became increasingly social. As we chatted about some of Sergio’s favourite rides, it quickly became apparent to me that the “pit-stop” coffee break location was an essential component to route planning. The majority of the Club’s weekend rides are 80-90km long, so a well-timed coffee break and social gathering makes the effort that much more enjoyable. From recreational cyclist, weekend warrior, biker commuter to competitive racer Vancouver is the place to

On the dangerous routes, there was no relief waiting at the end of the 25-mile route, so exhausted riders had to travel another 25 to 50 miles before they could rest (Stone, 1985). The load for a rider was limited to a total of 165 pounds including the rider (Stone,

“Vasquez, thirty miles!” I yelled as I passed the counter’s desk. My legs are on fire, my heart is pounding, and my shirt is drenched in sweat. The sun is beaming, the temperature has reached 95⁰F and I’ve been riding my bike non-stop for three hours earning twenty dollars an hour. I would always find myself in this scenario every September when I attended High School, this was the Saint Jude Bike-a-thon.

Francisco’s journey started out in the town of Compostela, with 300 Spaniards and around 1,000 indians and servants at his command. The journey was supposed to be easy, minimal casualties, and food was easily accessible, but that was far from the case. The fellow explorers had no idea of what was to come, the idea of huge profits was their, and Francisco’s, drive. Mounted on horses with small herds of cattle and pig they left the town and proceeded into uncharted territory, determined to find what they set out for.

"I am sorry," she said heavily. "Sometimes I can overact. Having help would make things easier." She shuffled her feet a bit as she finished her

“I- i think i'm fine , it’s not that big of a deal “ i reply trying to sound as normal as possible .

Lindara slid off the table and adjusted her dress. “That’s fine. Thank you for helping me. I knew it wasn’t a major injury, but I thought it best to have you look at it.”

‘Thanks for rescuing my clothes,’ I say, and tug at my wrinkled skirt, trying to cover my thighs.

Picture this: You're out biking with your friends, at no frills picking up some pop and chips. You finish your food and then you start biking around. You and your friends decide you want to go to your house but to get to your house you have to go up a really steep hill. So you guys decide to go up. So you start pedaling up the really steep and long hill. As you're about halfway up the hill you look behind you and there's a "sketchy" guy right behind you and you and your friends don't want to take any chances. so you pedal faster and faster and faster. once you get up the hill 5 minutes later you are REALLY sweaty and your feet are so numb you can't step off your bike without falling right head first into the hard solid cement. so a couple minutes

“Get your phone,” He looked at her feet that were now bleeding from the bramble. “And put on shoes.”

Days later, she and Doris begin their ride to Santa Barbara. The bike route is beautiful, but bicycling on unfamiliar terrain is scary and grueling on her body and psyche. She vows never to do anything like this

For expert cyclists it should take less than thirty minutes to zigzag through the streets to reach there. No way will that happen for us unless we pedal too fast, and with reckless abandon. I follow Doris’ lead and keep pace with a steady velocity and with caution.

"Okay, okay! Just breathe in and out okay. In and out, in and out." Yang said trying to calm down Blake who was moaning from the pain in her wound.

For mountain bikers, it’s a doozy of a ride. For hikers, it’s a long, long walk. For

I was anxious, frightened, and excited all at once. If I don’t do this now I will never convince myself to ever do it. As I stood at the top hill with my bike and a million thoughts running through my head. Pleased with myself that I was finally going to do it. This is it, at a slow, gradual pace I started to pedal at an agonizing slowness. Beads of sweat poured down my forehead. Realizing how frightened I actually was, I no longer want to go. Never the less, It was too late. Quickly picking up speed, as I zipped down the driveway. Suddenly, all control was gone, the gavel was too loose. Trying to stop, I squeezed the brakes as tight as I possibly could. Nothing seemed to matter though, no longer did I have control of my bicycle. Drifting from side to side, I’d never felt so much panic and fear in my life. All of the sudden my tire struck a large rock that was sticking up and sending me barreling over the handlebars, onto the jagged gravel, the bike still clutched tight in my grip. As I was falling, the though to let go of the handlebars never occurred to me until it was too late and the bike landed on top of my ribcage. Pain shot through my body. What I feared most was no longer a fear, but a