An Indulgence in Self-Pity

During this week of miserably cold mornings and progressively warmer afternoons, I had a chance to ride in a multitude of differing weather conditions from genuinely freezing to unseasonably hot.  Such is the weather in Calgary that this can occur within the same day.  As such, I’ve had opportunity to compare and contrast my different riding gear outfits.  I say outfits like I have a plethora of selection and choice when only recently I pointed out that I’ve acquired the bare minimum to go cycling every day.

I now have 2 sport shirts ostensibly made with some super technology that allow me to sweat comfortably, never be damp and never smell.  I have no problem sweating in these shirts though I’ve never had a problem sweating in any other shirt so I’m not sure what the benefit was supposed to be.  The instant I stop moving, two things happen: the evaporative action of the breeze is gone so instead of being mildly sweaty, I look like I’ve just walked out of the shower; this is quickly followed by a general cooling from no longer trying to propel my fat self through the air, which is greatly aided by the yards of now-wet fabric, wicking away all the heat in my body.  Which is a long way of saying they lied – my shirt is damp.  My co-workers have assured me they lied about not smelling as well.  Still, I have 2 shirts which is more than I had 6 months ago.

For Christmas last year, my mother-in-law gave me a fantastic MEC long-sleeve zippered T, designed to be a base layer.  Unfortunately the slim fit design rendered it virtually impossible for any use in public where I might retain some sense of dignity.  It’s like she knew what was coming though as today it fits perfectly, even a little loose.  I’ve worn it as a base layer and also as a mid layer over the not-very-smart fabric t-shirt and my purple MEC shell.  It is fantastic.

I’ve spent the entire summer riding in my Levi cargo shorts, at first in normal underwear (and once commando which I strongly, strongly advise against) before graduating to cycling-specific, chamois-equipped underwear.  Also from MEC.  These lend themselves to riding in almost any sort of below-the-waist garment though I’ve not yet tried them with a kilt.  Perhaps next year.

Best Wife rewarded my moaning about frozen knees with a pair of stretchy pants, properly called cycling tights but I just can’t bring myself to say to anyone ”no, it’s not cold when I wear my tights” so stretchy pants they are.  They are fuzzy-lined (technical term), wind-proof from the front, breathable in the back and slippery.   These are also from MEC.  As is my bike (though I bought it at a pawn shop).  I’m starting to feel like a MEC shill.

In the course of the past week, I’ve used all of the above in addition to my Running Room (hey – they’re not MEC!) 2-layer winter running socks and generic pseudo-leather winter gloves.  Friday was the culmination of all of this – a cool morning departure with all 3 top layers, the chamois-shorts and stretchy pants and leather gloves and the omnipresent headwind.  In all fairness, I’m not certain there’s been a headwind every ride or even every morning however the density of the cold air makes it feel that way (rough calculation of the difference for power at the same speed between the hot and cold days is 6-7%, equivalent to a 2% grade).  Friday’s forecast called for +26°C and I couldn’t help checking the 3 flags at the end of the hall at every opportunity.  The limp and lifeless flags promised a windless afternoon.  I was looking forward to a smoking ride home.

I’d brought my cargos to replace the tights as Thursday’s adventure showed even 18°C to be too hot for them – 26°C would surely fry me.  Despite an overwhelming desire to bail out early on such a nice Friday afternoon I was still at the office after 5 when I heard the outside buzzer ring.  I ignored it at first but after several minutes finally relented thinking perhaps one of the guys had locked himself out.  Such was not the case and I immediately regretted opening the door.  The courier was apologetic about being late but was finally here to pick up a large shipment – long after our shipping department and staff had called it a day.  We messed around to sort things out and finally got the truck loaded and on it’s way.  I grabbed my gear to get changed for the ride home when what to my wandering eye did appear?    Angry, angry, billowing flags.  I’d been rewarded with a headwind for my troubles.

I slipped into my not-very-smart fabric shirt and chamois shorts and pulled the cargos over top, pushing the rest of the riding gear, lunch kit and dirty laundry into a now very-stuffed pack.  I was no longer excited about the ride home and after wheeling around the corner and getting the headwind full-on, I momentarily debated the call of shame, such was the level of my disappointment.  My energy level was coincident with my disappointment.

I slogged on thinking about how miserable it all was, how I’d been cheated out of a brilliant ride home and how I was sick to death of fighting the wind every ride.  Reality eventually prevailed and I thought about how lucky I was to be able to ride to work every day, to be able to ride at all, to have a great wife who supports my weekend disappearances with the bike, and kids who have expressed an desire to join me.  Really, I have nothing to complain about.

Once I’d sorted myself out, I had time to take in the ride and the very first thing I noticed?  My cargo shorts.  While they have indeed been a decent entry point for cycling, I believe I will, as I suggested Thursday, join the ranks of the lycra-shorted cyclists come summer.    The riding experience of the chamois shorts & stretchy pants combo is splediferous, in such subtle-yet-significant ways.  The back-to-back comparison Friday – as I’d not ridden with both stretchy pants and cargos the same day – showed there just might be something to all that cycling lycra besides sheep-like behaviour afterall.

I spent the remainder of the ride finding solace in the suffering but my knees are starting to disagree with me.  They’ve been aching more than normal lately and I’m not sure if it’s age, recent temperatures, bike setup or a combination of the above.  I do know it concerns me.

 

A Beautiful Finish to a Freezing Start.

This week started off miserably cold with Monday’s 6 degrees & rain giving way to Tuesday’s 3 degrees. Not the kind of weather a guy looks for heading into fall. Mother Nature had a trick up her sleeve though as today’s banner image greeted me this morning with a nice 17 degrees. I rode home (slowly) in 27 degrees and they’re calling for 30 all weekend. That’s my kind of weekend.

I rode my heart out this morning, chasing down Thomas who turned out not to be Thomas despite the matching backpack and shorts. Being as it was not Thomas I did the next logical thing – bid the gentlemen good morning and gapped him as hard as I could. I can’t lie – it felt good to be able to do that. I don’t care what his reasoning is for getting caught and gapped by a guy in runners on a mountain bike either – I’m taking it as a win. Fully in the groove I rode the rest of the way to work at full-steam, thinking about how hard I’d been dropped the day before. Converging from different paths and heading the same direction, I was only a few meters behind him – 15 at the most. We headed towards the Memorial pedestrian overpass and it was there that he looked over his shoulder – him at the top of the ramp hitting the bridge, me coming around the corner to the bottom of the ramp. By the time I’d made it to the top of the ramp, he was over the bridge and heading down the other side (which requires he go up the ramp off the bridge before going down…who designed that?). When I’d made it down the bridge, he was literally out of site. Returning the favour to someone else does a body good.

After taking this morning’s picture (which you can only see as the header by going here) , the subject of my darker and darker morning departures came up. As we head into fall, the sun sleeps in a little more each day so where before I was dealing with sun in my eyes on the horizon as I left at 6:30, it’s still dark at 7:00. Soon I’ll be riding in the dark for most of the commute and there’s no streetlights on the path. I mentioned needing a light and was promised that Santa might bring some cycling goodies. “By Christmas we start getting lighter” I complained. Your birthday is coming up I was reminded. Yes…a week before Christmas –“the shortest day of the year falls between my birthday and Christmas” I moaned. “Stupid December birthday, all the cycling stuff will be gone from the shelves” I continued “and I’m going to freeze to death if I don’t get some winter riding gear before then”.

How do you know when you’re married to the most incredible person in the world? When I came home, the three monsters greeted me with a “Surprise! – Happy Birthday dad!”. I wassurprised! Trace grinned a mischevious smile as I changed out of my sweaty cycling gear and got ready for dinner. When I (finally) sat down at the table, the monsters each came bearing a gift, itching for me to unwrap them. First was the Homeland Security approved wrapping from my the middle monster hiding my favourite flavour of Shot Bloks (Cran Razz thank you). Perfect – never have too many of those.

MEC Headlight and Taillight

Next was the headlight/taillight combo set I’d put on my wish list. They’re both LED of course and have 2 modes of operation – steady and disco-strobe flash. Supplied by MEC they’ll bolt right onto the Chinook so the next time I make a sundown departure, I won’t be (as) worried about being crushed under the wheels of some sleepy commuter on his way to Tim Horton’s.

MEC Roubaix Cold Weather pants!

Last but by no means least, wrapped in a blue and orange paper were the MEC Roubaix winter riding pants I’d been going on about for weeks. “Need those pants. Boy it’s cold out this morning, sure could use those pants. Froze my knees solid this morning, going to have to give up riding soon if I don’t get some proper pants”. No opportunity to remind anyone who was in ear-shot that I really wanted needed those pants was missed. It worked!

My awesome wife – Best Wife – took it upon herself to celebrate my birthday in September so she could get me to stop whining feed my cycling addiction! How cool is that? And. AND! She made me cinnamon buns for dessert. My life is profoundly excellent.