Is there an English word for it? The feeling you get when you’re sitting out beyond the white line on your bike, further out than you should be, so that those bastard Fonterra milk tankers slow the fuck down, and you’re doing this bit of madness simply for your daughter who is cycling in front of you. Your life is in peril but you do it anyway. It’s a combination of pride, love, fear and adrenalin – it’s a pretty awesome feeling.
Monica and I cycled 178km from Taupo to Rotorua and back during Anzac weekend.
Anzac Day is the day we remember those who have fallen for us in the great wars. Those that fell while protecting us from an enemy, to ensure we stay free. Least we forget!
It was a great weekend of mother-daughter bonding … we had a great time, doing all the thing mothers and daughters should do. Monica is my shining star – 178km of tarmac under her tyres in three days – sore butt, sore back, sore legs but no complaints, only smiles – she rides 4km to school everyday and that was her only training for this ride – as I said – she is my shining star, tough as nails, pure grit and determination, and the best travelling companion to boot – she makes me so proud!