The Annual 500
Physically stupid. Mentally insane. 8 riders set out to ride 500km in one day.
Fear [noun]: An unpleasant feeling triggered by the perception of danger, real or imagined.
Whether fear of failure, or insecurity, the annual 500km is a perfect illustration of ones own mental battles. A task which would be hard pressed to complete solo. A task which, every year, would not happen without a team of like-minded individuals. A task which reflects the ups and downs of our own inner thought patterns.
The annual 500 is a true testament to the power of shared experiences. The collective openness to be taken to the very edge of any rational thinking.
The beginnings of this ride dates back to 2008, when founder, Steve Aitken decided it would be fun (granted, type two fun) to ride from Strahan to Swansea. His biggest takeaway from this experience was the importance of working together to tackle the mental battles every individual faced throughout the day. This quickly escalated to marking this somewhat unofficial tradition with a nominal figure of riding 500km in one day while raising awareness toward mental health.
"There is something quite special about the bonds formed in a group that has been through shared adversity." - Steve Aitken
While this year provided some differences to the usual proceedings, the concept remained the same. To ride our bikes for a very long time and make it back to Hobart before midnight. All in support and awareness toward mental health.
Due to a group effort of severe disorganisation, we decided to both start and finish our ride in Hobart. Ring leader Steve then added a number of gravel sections into this year’s route so due to the difficulty of the route, shortened it to 440km.
They were the planned proceedings for the day, now to some riding…
Rolling through the streets of Hobart at 2:30am on a Saturday morning for our agreed disembarkment time of 2:45am at ‘the Taph’, witnessing the continued celebrations of the proceeding graduation day, was quite the juxtaposition of what our respective Saturday’s were going to hold.
We had a relatively green crew consisting of Steve Aitken and Jim Avens (our two ring masters for the day), Mike Jolly, Tim Harmsen, Tom Cheeseman, Georgia Nesbitt, Chris Fox and Sofia Tsamassiros (myself). Not to forget our two very important soigneurs for the day, Mitch Gittus and Lucas Smith. 4 of the 8 riders had never ridden this far before and had very little expectation of what the day may hold. There is no training that can prepare you for a day like this. It is a simple matter of taking the day as it comes, running with the highs and continuing through the inevitable lows.
The morning started off with a steady balance of nerves and high spirits, but at 2:47am, we were off.
We received our first bit of encouragement for the day at 3am in the morning while riding over Grasstree Hill with some rather friendly sounding, potentially more aggressively spoken words of ‘what the f**** are you c**** smokin?!” It seemed to be a fair question at that hour of the morning and, to be honest, we were all probably thinking the same thing.
Our first challenge of the day came around the 80km mark when Chris Fox had to make the tough call to pull out after dealing with a bout of gastro a couple of days before the ride. Anything not tipping your direction, on a physical challenge like this, can be all it takes to throw your entire day and unfortunately for Chris, today was not his day. But we expect to see him back for the challenge next year!
For the most part, our day continued quite smoothly. We could not have asked for a better day. Warm, but not too warm, little wind and blue skies.
Cressy marked our halfway point of the day.
It was a weird feeling knowing that we were 250km in at 12:30pm averaging 29.7km/h. For any mere mortal, myself included, this would be a day I would usually very happily call done and dusted… but we still had another 200km to go and most importantly, a long gruelling climb up Poatina.
Sitting at 1,170m above sea level, we all knew we were in for a bit of a challenge… And it certainly lived up to expectation.
Riding up Poatina was a real battle of both mental and physical abilities. After having a long fast run into Cressy, a one hour lunch stop, to then riding up a long, 7.5% climb. We had no option but to change rhythm, go with the flow of the road and concede to the slow rhythm that lies up ahead for the next hour.
We all chose our own pace. A pace which remained within ourselves. Going through the constant battle of feeling great for one moment, to rock bottom the next. The beautiful illustration of ones own mental health battles.
Not knowing how you feel in one moment to the next. Just accepting what is, the task around you, the people around you and knowing there will be reprieve… at some point in time. In this instance we were lucky enough to have a known destination, a known end point, some, may not always be so lucky, but the process remains the same, and to me, that is the beauty of the process. The rhythm. The shared experience of highs and lows. No words need to be spoken, just company, support and knowing you will all make it out the other side at one point or another.
On a personal note, I had absolutely no intention of making it to the end of our 440km day. And I know, that I would never had made it to the end without the support of the group. From the small, but significant words of ‘there’s no way you’re quitting’ ‘we’re going to see you in Hobart, at the finish line, on your bike’. These moments are the moments I cherish, the moments that draw together the significance of shared experiences. That no matter how individual a task may appear at its surface, it is the people that you surround yourself with that get you through the hard times. That give you confidence when you don’t have it yourself and that allow you to achieve so much more than you ever thought possible.
“On these kinda long rides I find myself feeling like the weakest link, with thoughts of insecurity and self doubt. But what I've learned is not just to acknowledge the presence of these thoughts, but in humility to honestly reach out and ask for help. To use a cliché it's ok not to be ok. I was also reminded yet again just how much even the presence of a friend in hard times can lift the spirits. There's always hope even if it doesn't feel that way.” - Mike Jolly
This is our annual reminder to always speak up, always reach out and always know you are never alone.
As always, a massive thank you to everyone that was involved. To Steve and Jim for creating an environment that is always supportive, always constructive and one that I am proud to be a part of. To each of the riders, our support crew and to our family and friends for waiting at the finish line. The day would not be the same without you all.
Sofia Tsamassiros / 27.12.22