True to their predictions this morning’s departure temp was a balmy 5 degrees.  That’s not warm, unless the day before was sub-zero.  3 kilometres into my ride I was pondering the following: My legs were cold when I left the house and now they don’t feel cold.  Is that because they’re warm from the work or numb from the cold?  I touched my thigh but got no feedback as my hand was also frozen.  I still don’t know if I was numb or just had frozen hands but I’m leaning towards yes.

Thomas dropped by for a short visit this morning and commented on trying to find me on our morning commute.  His being on schedule (and faster by an order of magnitude) a coincident of our individual space/time continua would be…would be a coincidence.  Riding with Thomas a couple of times a week would be nice training though as my ego wouldn’t permit me to do anything less than fry myself trying to keep up.

My first morning commute took just shy of 42 minutes at an average speed of 20km/h. Today a typical fair-weather commute is 30 minutes-ish and I was over-joyed the first time I broke that 30-minute barrier.  Not having a new goal however has allowed for some degree of slacking.  As I’ve grown into a 30 minute commute, my efforts have slackened, my speed flattened out and my progress slowed to a virtual halt.  My 30 minute commute is starting to look more like a 31.

You know what I need?  I need daily rabbits, as evidenced by today’s superb commute home.  Still cold as all get out for a guy in shorts but my head was in the game. What to my wandering eye did appear?  Three riders together, 600 meters out.  I put my head down and started pushing, shifting up another gear and bringing my cadence up.  One Two One Two One Two no wait circlescirclescirclescirclescirclescircles oh this is stupid.  You can’t pace yourself into spinning circles.  I wasn’t making much progress though – they were slowly getting closer but my plans of catching them before the train crossing were slipping away.  The train crossing came and my rabbits still had 150 meters on me, and they’d just passed someone else.  Wait…what’s that?  It’s my purple rabbit!

He was so tantalizingly close!  I’m starting the climb from the crossing to the pedestrian overpass, my daily grinder.  I stand up, grab one more gear and stare at my front wheel, a long staircase in my mind.  I pump away, “up up up up up up” each time imagining another step.  I dare not look more than a couple of meters ahead of me for staring at the bridge is akin to looking Medusa in the face – all of your resolve and your will suddenly vanish as you realize you’re only half-way there on the little false flat.  ”Up up up up”, it seems to go on forever.  Maybe they’ll all head across the bridge and my chase will be over.

No.  Not today.  The four of them continued north and I continued to chase.  Mildly delirious I sat down and dropped a gear to give the legs a break but being slightly detached I spun madly away at a cadence that gave me the appearance of one suffering an epileptic seizure.  ”Gear stupid, grab another gear”, I shifted back up, went back to studying my knees and mashed on.

In my imagination I am a work of physical prowess, muscles all firing in a symphony of power and ability, bike and rider one with the universe as we blaze across the path.  A harmonious creature doing as it is designed to do.  The reality I’m told, is slightly different.  Weaving and wobbling all over the path, the mere concept of keeping my line, much less an ability to discern and then organize the required muscular responses to follow it are simply not happening.  I am foaming at the mouth, spittle splashed across my cheek and drool on my chin. Sweat is dripping down the inside of my glasses which you would think might inhibit my vision but I’m no longer processing at 30 frames per second and my world has become much narrower.  I am vaguely aware of my lower jaw coming unhinged and dropping away to open up the path to my lungs as I greedily inhale the air around me.    I let out a deep, gutteral growl akin to an angry squirrel.  Mice everywhere point and laugh.

Meter by meter I reel them all in.  A block before my route departs from the path I catch them, all four bunched up on the path.  I follow them down from 32nd around the power substation on freshly paved trail but there is no point in passing now and to do so would require an extraordinary act of obnoxious obtuseness I opt not to engage.

In reviewing the ride data at home, it seems I’ve set a new personal record for that grinding climb.  4 rabbits and a new PR – that’s a fine ride indeed.