Out With The Old

I sold my old bike last weekend. 'Old' really isn't a fair description as I actually owned it for less than two years. I'm not a bike snob and there was really nothing wrong with it but...we just didn't bond.

Weird, I know.

I can commit however. The bike before that, I had purchased on sale from a now-defunct sporting goods store and it served me well for 16 years without so much as a flat tire. I actually went off-road with it. Good bike.

But the bike I just sold was purchased quickly and mainly based on price. As is often the case, I got exactly what I paid for.

It was a department store bike, not poorly made but nothing that inspired confidence. Not poorly assembled either but it still seemed to rattle and shift poorly, I couldn't position the handlebars the way I liked and the seat (though a fairly fetching number, decked out in red trim) was never comfortable. Every pot hole and bump prompted a grimace and in time, I'm certain, internal hemorrhage. After less than two full seasons, I shipped it out knowing that if I didn't love it, it wouldn't love me.

Kijiji-bound, it seemed rather Christine-like in it's final few days; menacing somehow, despite it's stasis.

Sorely, Departed

You know that voice inside your head that tells you it's okay to sleep in? That chips are derived of potatoes, ensuring their status as vegetables? Oh, and that one (more) doughnut won't kill you?

Loudly & clearly today, that voice said riding to work was gonna suck, and life would be so much easier if I went back inside and made some coffee.

I paused to consider this partial truth, but instead got my bike out and hopped on.

It was a bit chilly this morning, 5 degrees, cloudy, but virtually no wind, so the ride should have been a non-event. Apparently my calves and ass did NOT get the memo because they were screaming before I even hit the end of my street. Yesterday's ride, the first of the season, had created an unexpected hangover.

So, seconds before I hit the first intersection I pause, coast, and begin listening anew to 'that voice' that would see me turn around for the comfort of fresh coffee and a hot shower. It would have been so easy...

I can't claim epiphany or moral victory or even that the voice in my head shut up. Nothing drove me to keep going, nothing. In fact, I felt more a sense of resignation than grim determination but I did keep going. Eventually the voice was drowned out by the sound of my pedalling and wheezing. I suppose there is some lesson here but who knows how strong the voice will be if it's windy or rainy?

Stupid voice.

Anyway, I made it, again in about 48 minutes and traffic was manageable. I have 8-9 hours to recover before I ride home, which is good because I will need it. Right now, my ass and I are seriously considering throwing out this work chair in favour of an exercise ball to sit on...

First Ride of the Season

I take the bus to work and it takes about 45 minutes, door to door, to reach my office. Today, in what can only be charitably described as an experiment, I rode my bike downtown to see a) if I could do it without coughing up a lung, and b) how long it would take.

I plotted my route through residential neighbourhoods, Assiniboine Park and concentrated on some of the few streets downtown where our city has actually provisioned for bicycle traffic, notably Assiniboine Avenue and Fort Street.

On this quiet Sunday morning, it took me 43 minutes to get downtown and 58 minutes to get home. This is encouraging and makes me think I might follow through on 4 summers worth of idle threats to actually begin cycling to work. Why did it take longer to get home? Basic exhaustion; that and a stupid headwind that literally seems to change direction every time I did. After crossing over the footbridge from Assiniboine Park to St. James (remembering to dismount before doing so) I sat down on a bench and casually drank water so my rest looked optional. Truthfully, my arse was killing me and my legs felt wobbly, full of searing toxins.

After 10 minutes or so of staring into space and smiling weakly at anyone who seemed poised to call the EMTs, I completed my journey home.

So, the good news: I'm riding a brand new bike and it performed really well on this, its maiden voyage. I did not puke up a lung nor did I wipe out in front of the avid/experienced cyclists who find Assiniboine Park and Wellington Crescent so appealing on weekends. My 'wind' seems okay though I did coast from time to time to recover and it's not like I faced many torturous hill climbs.

The bad news? Hell, let's keep this positive and say there WAS no bad news but I will remain cautious. Traffic was light, Sunday morning light. Monday could be a whole different story...