I know I know – it’s been forever and a day, and then some.  My apologies.    One of the problems with saying “I’m going to write a blog about cycling” is that it kind of puts you in a bit of a box.  A cycling box.  So, say – for example, you were to have a little ‘off’ and break your wrist and not be able to ride for a few weeks – you might run out of cycling things to talk about.  Especially if that happened on the edge of winter, for which you are unprepared and un-equipped.  And then had Christmas.

Enough excuses.  I have had no less than 1 person tell me it’s time to start writing again which means at least 1 person humours me by reading.   Besides – I have some cycling and tangentially-related cycling stuff to go on about now.

Santa was absolutely fantastic this year.  No…that’s not accurate.  My family – both the in- and out-laws took notice of my new cycling obsession and obliged me heartily.   Between riding jerseys, chamois shorts, socks, a tool bag, flat kit and gift cards (and much more), I’m entirely spoiled.  In addition to the great gear delivered on the season’s festivities, January 1^st rolled over my employer’s benefit program.

Ordinarily this would be of little excitement but yet again, I am spoiled and have a healthy “health and fitness” allowance which will reimburse me for purchases that can be deemed as promoting healthy living.  I took advantage of this and the aforementioned gift cards to gear up with some key items.

In order to maintain (and reduce) my rather successful Christmas Five (pounds if you must ask), I purchased a fluid trainer.  This is, in essence, an attachment for the Rescue Bike that converts it to a stationary bike.  It provides a healthy amount of resistance and I can easily break a sweat with it.  How is it to ride?   Capital B boring, but I’m not riding it for excitement.  If I want riding excitement, I need only hit the streets with my summer slicks and try to cross some of the polished-like-granite (and just as hard) ice that litters the streets.  A 45 minute ride was enough to leave me wheezing and soaked head to toe, despite the 4 degree temperature in the garage.

To go with my new torture device, I bought new shoes which of course required new pedals too.  I’m now a member of the locked-to-my-bike riders, feet firmly attached to the pedals so the next time I need to dip a foot down unexpectedly to maintain a wheels-up orientation, I will likely be unable to unclip quickly enough and can simply fall over and skid along, secure in the knowledge that my feet will remain firmly attached to my pedals throughout the slide   I am particularly looking forward to dispensing with the seemingly obligatory clipped-in-and-forgot-at-the-stoplight-so-have-fallen-and-can’t-get-up-next-to-a-bus-full-of-cheerleaders move.  Ironically, this type of shoe and pedal arrangement is termed “clipless” in spite of the large cleat that…clips into the pedal.

The Sidi shoes for EEE cyclists.

After much agonizing over the purchases – not wanting to squander the limited resources available, I picked up a pair of highly praised, Italian made shoes, the Sidi Dominator Mega through MEC. In so far as cycling shoe style goes, these are pretty tame, black with a couple of red and white accents.  Despite the aggressive tread (they’re mountain bike rather than road shoes), the cleat still protrudes below the tread which when combined with the inflexible sole, makes walking in them entertaining. With EEE feet, getting comfortable shoes is already a bit of a challenge.  Most of the shoe reviews I’d read revealed that generally speaking, cycling shoes fit narrow so finding one that fit my planks was a priority.    More than one reviewer noted extremely high mileage with these shoes as well – 50,000+km.  I’m guessing that wasn’t a single ride…

Crank Brother's Egg Beaters

The pedals I purchased to go with them are Crank Brothers’ venerable Eggbeaters, also picked up through MEC.  I admit – these weren’t my first choice for pedals.  I’ve been on the fence and wanted the option to ride without clipless shoes so had initially planned to buy a version that would permit either/or.  In the end I decided to go all the way and yet as I write this, I have no idea why.  I blame the merchandising people at MEC.  The Eggbeaters are well-regarded, light and pretty straight forward (thus bullet-proof).   You see them on everything including road bikes despite their mountain (mud) bias.  Being a vain weight-weenie, I didn’t choose the $60 version, I picked up the top of the line, series 11 titanium units.  Now, these have a weight limit for the rider of just 200 lbs (including pack if you’re riding with one) so at 205 I’ve got some work to do.  I’m certain the reduced weight of the $425 pedals will make me faster being 82 grams lighter.  82 grams.  That’s a portion of a pound.  0.18 pounds.  Totally worth the extra $365.

I kid.  An extra $365 would buy a boatload of cool gear, and I don’t have an extra $365 to spend on 82 grams and pedals that are too weak for my Clydesdale self.   I trust I’ll never have an extra $365 for that.

So a fluid trainer, pedals, shoes, a 4-litre Camelback pack (essential for long rides as 2 bottles just isn’t enough I discovered), a 2^nd squeeze bottle & bracket and a plethora of essential riding gear.  Completely and utterly spoiled by loved ones (and yes, Big Corp health plan) and it’s all healthy!  Friends and Family – thank you for supporting my obsession.  I – quite literally – couldn’t pull it off without you.

Racing to Nowhere

Next year, I’d like one of these please:

Oh.  My.  Deity!  The weather is miserable, my wrist is still broken and the dust on the Rescue Bike gets thicker every day.  I miss riding my bike.  I miss flexing my wrist.  I miss not freezing my face off when I’m outside for 3 minutes.

I had the good fortune to be able to pick up my eldest from school the other day.  Arriving late I parked 2 blocks away as the crush of pick-up parents and nannies had taken all of the available parking already.  I walked towards the school and connected with another father, significantly under-dressed making the same journey.  ”I should have worn a hat” he lamented as I jammed my toque down over my ears.  I nodded in agreement, glad I wasn’t him.  The wind from the north picked up as the gaggle of frozen tot-transporters stood shivering , each waiting for their charge to be set free of the sandstone smart-factory in which we were not permitted to seek cover.

By the time the boy was finally out in the parking lot with me, I was frozen.  He was not, dressed smartly in proper winter gear while I shivered with the -21C wind snaking it’s way down my neck and across my face.  I was miserable walking back to the car, but grateful just the same when we passed a bike locked to a nearby sign, snow jammed in the tread – evidence of it’s recent use.  This is not sane cycling weather.

This morning on the way to work, again with a -21C wind, I could not help but enjoy the warmth of my now-antique heated seat.  I saw a lone headlight bob past us on the bike path, a solitary figure, resolute in their smugness and madness.  I admire both admittedly – the willingness to cycle in miserable conditions purely to avoid driving says something about one’s martyrdom-factor.  It’s not quite smug as a Prius in oil country, but it’s up there.

It goes without saying that riding in a stiff headwind in freezing-was-several-big-ticks-above-temperatures requires a certain degree of madness whether your cycling is borne of a love for cycling itself, less-than-ideal economics or an unfortunate series of decisions behind the wheel that has resulted in a court-mandated vacation from driving.  Choosing to ride your bicycle in this weather is simply mad.

What I’ve noticed lately, particularly on my drive home is that a bicycle ride would be infinitely more pleasurable.  Sure, there were days when I was immeasurably happy to see the top of that last hill I had to climb, thankful I didn’t live any farther away or higher up. Hating the wind.  Yet as I float home in a sea of brake lights each night, the speedometer barely registering any velocity despite being on the (as in the, not one of the) primary north/south artery, I can’t help but succumb to the greener-grass syndrome.

Sure, I’d be freezing to death and I wouldn’t have this nice warm seat inside a nice wind-free car with a silk-voiced radio announcer telling me my drive home was going to take double-extra long today because someone couldn’t negotiate an off-ramp and everyone else wants to look at them now.  But I’d have something I can’t seem to achieve on the road.  Motion.

Okay, that’s obviously not pedantically, precisely, one-hundred percent accurate.  Clearly if I get into my car at point A and get out at point B, there’s been motion even if that motion took place entirely in first gear.  On the bike though, motion is obvious.  It’s visceral and tangible (and all to physical should you bump into something not in motion on your present vector).  It’s rewarding.  Your legs and lungs are burning with each crank of the pedals. You see and feel the world moving around you in response.  You are rewarded with the passing of each sub-conscious landmark, every rut and heave in its place, ticking off small accomplishments.

Back in the car you fiddle with the heat, the radio, the seat.  You’d like to check your email because your brain is entirely disengaged from the task at hand and is no longer capable of simply being but the constant crawl of the traffic around you precludes that.  The line of traffic, brake-lights bright, snakes over the hill and far away.  Each meter of movement is not progress but a taunt.  Speed up, coast down, up, down.  On and on it goes as the traffic whiplashes back and forth.

It’s enough to make you crave a headwind.