Clint Stanaway: I'm riding 1013km to battle ovarian cancer and remember my mate Mandy

"I think I'll call you Clunt… that's how they say Clint in New Zealand" – it's fair to say my first conversation with Mandy Herbert was memorable.

She might have been small in stature, but Mandy had a gigantic wit, as quick as anybody I've ever known.

Mandy also had enormous fight, so when she told us she had ovarian cancer, we expected everything would be OK.

It was straight to hospital for an operation she dubbed "the hamburger with the lot".

It was a full hysterectomy, and the only way she was going to win the war raging inside her body.

Then came the "junkie juice" – big doses of chemo, which, time and time again, would help Mandy keep the nasties at bay.

Visits to Melbourne's Cabrini Hospital were far too regular for Mandy and the Herbert family.

On no less than six occasions, "the beastie" returned, but again and again, Mandy battled on.

Not once did I hear her complain. Not once did I see her shed a tear. Not once did she yield. She'd simply roll up the sleeves and start fighting again.

It was something to behold. Here was this insidious disease attacking from all quarters… and yet all Mandy worried about was what tie I was wearing on the evening news.

That's the type of person she was – courageous, resolute and very cheeky.  

Deep down I wondered if Mandy knew "the beastie" would one day get the better of her. Indeed, statistics paint a bleak picture when it comes to ovarian cancer.

One Australian woman loses her fight with ovarian cancer every 10 hours. It's staggering, and in Mandy's case, that alarmed me.

Helen Hatzis was locked in an equally intimidating fight, and she and Mandy became great mates - tackling the disease together with great vigour and, of course, humour.

Surrounding Mandy was also the support of family, friends and even strangers.

She dubbed us "the Mob".

Each year, we'd run, walk, and sometimes hobble to raise money for the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation (OCRF).

On one occasion, a runner decided to scale the 10km course dressed as giant ovaries!

But in December 2016, there'd be a shocking double whack.

Mandy was sick, terribly sick. She was so ill that she was admitted to palliative care.  

And it got worse. Tragically, in the same week, Helen also passed away.  

It was cruel. Two families were hurting – the insidious monster that is ovarian cancer could no longer be held at bay.  

Barely a month later, our dear Mands also succumb to "the beastie".

Her husband Philip was understandably devastated. So too, were her daughters Georgie and Penny.  

The Mob was suddenly without its number one ticket-holder.  

A touch over six months later, we still miss Mands so much. I miss her jokes, her nightly texts about my ties and grammar, along with her smile and not to mention her courage.

Before she passed away, we told her about our next plan – to ride a bike from Adelaide to Melbourne.

She laughed and said: "You're crazy".

Crazy? Yes!  Kidding? No way!

On October 21, a team of riders will set out on a nine-day adventure, covering 1013km, not just for Mands and Helen, but also for the thousands of Australian families who have been touched by ovarian cancer.  

Cancer rarely has a silver lining, but in this case, hope is what drives us.  

It's too simplistic to think that somebody, somewhere, someday will find a cure, or create an early detection test.

There are too many families losing mums, sisters, daughters and wives to stand idly by.

The Silver Lining Ride will raise funds for OCRF and will also raise awareness of ovarian cancer.

Donations can be made via the Silver Lining Ride website, and the ride will be documented on Instagram and Facebook.

Enquiries can also be made via silverliningride@gmail.com

The Silver Lining Ride 2017 is powered by Giant Australia and Mercedes Benz Toorak.