CN CYCLE FOR CHEO LA TORMENTA

Alexander Vargas Sanabria

Cyclists do ride in the rain—but we rarely start a ride in it. Heading out in the cold with wet feet, knowing they’ll stay that way for the next five hours, is pretty demotivating. I totally get everyone who didn’t go. Still, those of us who did… we don’t regret it.

TIME: 3 HRS

It’s 5:00 a.m. and the alarm goes off. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, listening to the rain hit my window. I gather the strength to get up, turn on the coffee maker, and pull from the fridge the breakfast I had prepped the night before.

While I eat, I stare out the living-room window toward the balcony, hoping the rain stops and the weather flips suddenly—like other times when we’ve gone from warm to cold in a heartbeat. But we already know that didn’t happen, and it’s time to finish getting ready and head out to keep the appointment.

Time to leave home. I take the usual route from Britannia Beach to Gatineau Park, but today my first destination is the Canadian War Museum, the starting point for this ride. The WhatsApp community is already active and messages begin to come in: some say they’re arriving, others ask for the meeting point, and the rest wish us luck… because they’re not riding.

The inner complaining is over—we’re at the meeting point. It feels a bit lonely at first, but people keep arriving as the start time gets closer. I share a coffee with Beto and watch, one by one, the soaked riders show up; and one by one, we each come up with a good reason to be there. I don’t know if anyone else thought about not coming… but I definitely did.

We’re on the start line and we organize ourselves for a few photos. The Ecuadorian crew pulls out a flag to dress up the shot. Usually it’s our Colombia National Team cycling jerseys that steal the scene, but today it was Ecuador’s flag that colored the group photo.

Time to roll out. The event route points us in the direction of my house—like a sign, one more chance to bail out. But no. The vibe is fun. I’m less worried about the water now; what pushes me forward is that feeling of sharing the road with other soaked riders. We’re there, connected, doing something that doesn’t change the world—but in that moment, it helps you see it with new eyes.

A couple minutes later, I turn around to take the route back toward downtown. I ease up and start looking for my teammates. They’re not behind me. We’ve split up, and I have to do that outbound stretch without them. I remember that earlier, when we talked about this event, we’d agreed to leave the start line at a solid pace, sharing turns and rotating the responsibility of pulling the group. But the start location didn’t really allow for it. We always struggle a bit to organize ourselves at the beginning.

The route keeps moving. I’m already downtown, and even though I’m flying at a good pace, two riders with a stronger rhythm pass me. I decide to jump on them so I can ride in a group. The pace is good: we start picking up people and losing others. We quickly reach the roundabout where the equestrian statue of “The Queen Elizabeth II” stands, and in the blink of an eye I’m alone with another cyclist. We alternate pulling all the way to the turnaround point.

When I get there, I decide to take a breather—bathroom break, a bite to eat—hoping to reconnect with my teammates. After waiting for a while, I merge back onto the route, glancing sideways to see if any of them are coming the other way. Rain goes and comes, and among all the sounds blending into one big noise, I hear Carlitos shout: “Alexxx.” The call to finish this story accompanied.

I go back to that aid station where I had already waited, and after a couple of minutes, we’re together again—ready to head back and finish. Only Toño is missing, a recent addition to the club, who apparently had mechanical issues and had to drop out.

The ride back to the start line hit different: one single line of familiar faces that made everything even more fun—basically how our club rides usually feel. Danilo attacking, setting a pace nobody can hold; James smiling, with great energy and attitude; Beto at the back of the line looking like he’s getting dropped… but he isn’t; Carlitos serious like Nairo—no one knows if he’s cruising or barely hanging on; and Laura… well—laughing, joking around, and teasing the people she’d left behind or the ones who couldn’t hold her pace.

That’s the finish. We arrive the way we started: under the rain. As time passes at the meeting point—after the photos and everyone’s personal recap—we start to feel hungry and cold. While we share a burger and a hot drink, our bodies begin to cool down, and as much as we wanted to stay a little longer to hang out and enjoy the moment, the weather didn’t allow it.

Riding along the river, I remembered I ended up at this event almost by accident—pure chance. I had already decided not to participate because right now, everything I do requires an economic calculation, and I wanted to prioritize the activities we’ll have in the summer. I took Iván’s spot; he couldn’t ride because he had to travel for a family celebration. I remembered that because your subconscious judges every decision you make with brutal objectivity: maybe I wasn’t expecting the invitation, but it’s also true that I could have said no.

The event recap

CN Cycle for CHEO is not a competitive event. There’s no timing, no official results, and no individual test on a specific segment of the route. I think it’s simply a city ride where some people go faster than others. It matters to the city of Ottawa because it connects a collective physical activity with a broader cause; and for GCC, it’s an opportunity to support a social cause linked to cycling.

Back in Colombia, I had the chance to take part in different recreational cycling events, but this one had a different backdrop for me. It wasn’t the route or the difficulty—it was the diversity of languages, colors, features… the people around you.

Despite the storm, I would do it again, and I’d love to bring ideas to this event to make it even more engaging for the cycling community of the National Capital Region.

On the route: Danilo Borja, Carlos Bermúdez, Laura Calle, James Potvin, Toño García, Dario Vega, and Cristian Araujo.