By the pricking of my thumb breaking of my wrist, something interesting is in our midst.  Just when you think you know what’s going on, the universe throws you a sliding curve ball.    ”An unexpected conversation may lead to big changes” was surely the horoscope of the day.  More to come as things develop (or don’t).

I’ve been able to spend some quality time with the fluid trainer lately which is long overdue. Well, riding the trainer isn’t overdue, riding the Rescue Bike is.  I feel sluggish and out of shape, barely recognizing the face staring back in the morning mirror.  Too many sweets, too many indulgences, not enough sleep.  So goes (went) the holidays.

Time with the trainer also means time with some of the new gear, notably the new shoes, pedals and best of all, the new warm jersey.  On my first hard session, I neglected to put on the chamois shorts and went with just the stretchy pants.  This was a mistake made painfully clear around the 30 minute mark.  That chamois may not be particularly thick, but it’s very effective.  Chamois shorts – don’t leave home without ‘em.

The long-sleeve, lined jersey is a life-saver these days.  Granted, the garage hasn’t been freezing, at least not technically, but at 4 degrees one finds a short-sleeve top a bit wanting even after a solid workout.  I finished my hour-long ride last night, drenched from head to waist despite the chilly environment.  This made me wonder just how bad it would be to have a mechanical breakdown half-way to work in mid-winter.  Or half-way to anywhere.  Hot, sweaty, not making any more heat and not wearing enough clothing to be standing there fiddling with frozen bicycle bits.  I suppose a couple of those chemical heat packs would be in order for winter riding, just in case.

Of course, having gone on about all the new gear, there’s another angle to this riding obsession.  With nothing but a basic bicycle, some worn-out running shoes and a pair of cargo shorts, I fell in love with riding.  I didn’t need a fancy bike or clipless shoes and pedals (that have clips…and with which you “clip in”…) or Power Ranger stretchy outfits.  Riding, in and of itself.  Pushing yourself beyond.  Fighting the burning legs and pushing on, ignoring the voice that wants you to believe you can’t.

This (and Purple Rabbits) is, for me, the essence of riding.  I find it distracting to pick up a cycling magazine only to be bombarded with the marketing that tells me I need lighter wheels and a more compliant yet stiff frame, $1000 rain gear and $100 gloves and $85 carbon fibre drink holders.  You don’t need all that.  Cycling is just you and the bike, nothing more, nothing less.

Leave the expensive gear to the pros – where it might actually matter – and the Joes with fat wallets and an abundance of time to play pro.  Ignore the magazines – their sole purpose is to part you from your hard-earned money.  Buy a solid bike, then  ride it.  It’s just that easy.  And oh so rewarding.