Category Archives: Cycling

A Confidence Apogee

Posted on by

I tend to be an all-or-nothing guy which has been both an unrecognized blessing and a curse.  While sober today, the all-or-nothing frame of mind was hard at work when I was a teenager.  I was that guy that took the cap off the bottle and threw it away ‘cause I knew I wasn’t going to need it again.  On the other hand, knowing I didn’t have the necessary financial resources for a thorough and properly executed cycle kept me from dancing down steroid alley in my gym heyday.  Considering the “all” side of that avenue is frightening to think about – a 300 pound meat puppet that can’t comb his own hair but no longer needs to thanks to the juice-induced baldness.

That attitude carried over into my automotive obsessions with a million projects never started, a thousand upgrades never performed and countless small victories never enjoyed.  Even today I look at the car and think “I should repair that little thing.  You know, the right way to do it is not to replace the little piece that needs to be replaced but to rebuild the entire suspension into a neck-snapping, spine-crushing ride that is worth more than the car and makes it no fun to drive anymore”.  It’s only focused attention that gets the cars repaired at all.   It’s had two different sets of wheels on it (yes, on the same side) for the better part of a year now.  I have a proper set but that would require a bunch of work, some new front tires, some attention paid to the front end and you know I might as well replace everything with new parts and if I’m going to do that I should address the inherent weak points in the suspension design because I know more than BMW’s engineer’s did in 1987 when they built my car because I once worked around engineers…you see how quickly this gets out of control?

I have worked hard not to become an obsessed cyclist, though I appear to be a firmly addicted one (this point is up for debate after my decision to drive to work rather than cycle against the 40km/h head/crosswind this morning).  I have not embraced roadie culture by shaving my legs, abandoning all pretense of an upper body mass or spending the monsters’ education fund on a bicycle that will surely be eclipsed by the technology released 3 weeks after I purchase it.  I have not  jumped headlong into mountain biking, touring, downhill engineless motorbike coasting, freestyle, dirt jump, endurance, urban…  Perhaps I fall into the commuter category but that word is uttered with such disdain by those who feel themselves to be true cyclists that I don’t dare admit to such a thing.  Besides, I have no panniers nor business-casual Lycra and I’m pretty sure that wearing pants on a bicycle is a fashion statement that must be bludgeoned out with a club.  Unless they’re torn Levi’s paired with a sleeveless lumberjack jacket and a beer box strapped to the bars like a basket.  It is mandatory to wear aviators and smoke while cycling like this.

No – I’ve done the bare minimum to get into riding.  I bought a pawnshop bike after breaking my dime-store one.  I wore my summer BBQ attire for riding until, at the end of a 50km ride various tender bits threatened to burst into friction-induced flames.  I own precisely one pair of riding tights (thanks babe!), one wind-stopper riding jacket (thanks babe!) and still ride in a ratty old pair of running shoes.  This is about as close to nothing-yet-functional as I can get.

However…riding my poor rescue bike – that’s where the all comes out.  Every time I think about getting on that saddle I get excited, my heart starts pumping a little faster, I get butterflies in my stomach and I wonder how the performance will go this time round.  I suit up, start the Strava ride timer and start pedaling.  If the wind is pushing back, the goal becomes to suffer harder, for longer, to endure the mental games that play out, to ignore the aching legs and just keep pedaling.  On the other hand, if the wind is non-existent or perhaps even favourable, the game is on and there is but one goal – set my fastest time.  This leads to the inevitable spittle and drool flying out of a giant fly-catching grin as I pedal like a man possessed.

I’d had a couple of incidents on the path during my bonzai runs that left me with the conclusion that I need to start acknowledging the path is not my personal track.   I’d been pursuing a fully-kitted roadie out of Max Bell towards Memorial and was steadily gaining ground but was certain he would disappear once he’d cleared the overpass and was back on flat path.  This was a mistake.  He casually made his way around the bends as I raced down the pedestrian ramp and cut the corner.    I’ve talked about this particular route a number of times, but what I’ve not mentioned is that it is humped and that off-road grass hump blocks your view of the path until you’ve crested the hump and have perhaps one second to take in the path traffic.  As I came over the top, he was perhaps 2 feet in front of me but travelling much, much slower.  Have I mentioned that I put road tires on the bike?  You know how well road slicks grip the dirt path?  Precisely….they don’t.   I narrowly avoided plowing through his stick-figure build and crushing his dainty little bike though I don’t think he liked me skidding through the grass to his right.  If you’re going to dress like a pro cyclist, don’t dawdle okay?  I rode home thinking this was the most serious of a series of recent events suggesting I might want to slow down some.   I didn’t.

All or nothing baby.  It’s so on.  I’m pedaling in full flight, coming down the hill along Fox Hollow.  In top gear, I’m spinning (quite literally) as fast as I can and building some serious steam as I head for the train gate.  I’m on the thin edge of control as my pedaling is starting to bounce me up and down on the saddle but the rush of speed is too much to ignore.   The path curves hard to the right, beyond 90 degrees as it snakes over to the tracks and there’s unusually high traffic on it this fateful morning.  Thinking only of the speed, of setting a new record, of setting the best time, I ignored that little voice suggesting this was about to be one of those scenes that I could avoid if I slowed down.  This was not nearly enough deterrent and I forged on, a heady 50km/h as I approached the corner.  I coasted for just a moment, passing one on-coming cyclist before throwing the bike hard to the right,  praying that it would hold traction somehow and carve through the corner.  Then I pedaled.

In hindsight, this was the crowning achievement on my Things I could have done Better on this Commute list.  Pedaling of course brought the inside pedal much lower than it had been and, into contact with the pavement.  This very kindly functioned as a pivot point and unloaded the tires enough to send bike and rider skittering across the path, narrowly missing two on-coming riders.  I skilfully used my shin to protect the crank from further contact with the paved path and called upon the inside of my arm to act as an energy converter, turning our forward skidding kinetic energy into heat which it did quite well.  Pavement rash does indeed burn.

Lesson learned?  We’ll see…are you riding all?  Or nothing?

PS (apologies to the Fat Cyclist commentor from whom I poached the “Confidence Apogee” event term)

PPS I had pictures of the fun and the aftermath but technical difficulties are preventing their presence…

A Beautiful Finish to a Freezing Start.

Posted on by

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.

To Cover, or Not to Cover. That is (not) the question.

Posted on by

Warning – this post contains a graphic photo of my legs.  There is also a fresh flesh wound.

I wear a helmet when I ride.  It’s one of those things that happened not out of planning but happenstance.  With three kids on the go, all of whom at least appear to enjoy playing on their bikes – and all of whom fall down – it made sense for them to wear helmets, not to mention they brand you a bad parent and take your money if you don’t.  No amount of coaching a 2 year old on a bicycle is going to instil a sense of caution that isn’t either innate already or life-long debilitating so you eliminate the hazards you can (traffic, hills) and try to protect those you can’t.  I started wearing one when I started cycling to set an example for the kids, besides it would have been odd to wear one before I was riding.  It’s now as routine for them as putting on their shoes – if they’re heading for their bike, they have their helmet on.

When Enthusiasm Overcomes Ability. A Confidence Apogee

I know some folks would shudder to expose their children to harm of any sort, but that’s not us.  Scrapes, bumps, bruises – those are lessons.  Who hasn’t had a scrapped knee or bloody palms as a kid?  Or an adult…

Your head though – that’s a different thing.   Sure, any number of maladies can result from improperly addressed wounds but by and large you grow some new skin, suffer the sheets sticking to your oozing flesh for a couple of nights and then business as usual.  Knock on the head?  That’s too risky for this cowboy rider.

I am on the side of personal choice with these sorts of things.  I think as an adult, I should be the individual who decides that I wear a helmet on my bicycle or my motorcycle or skiing, snowboarding, caving, climbing or any other activity where you might want to wear one.  In anything involving falling objects or movement at speed on unforgiving surfaces however I think you’re nuts if you don’t.  Borders on idiotic.  Why?  Pretty straight forward really.

Your head contains your brain – I realize this comes as a shock to any woman who knows young men but it’s true – and your brain is rather important, however nature saw fit to give you just one.  It’s like nature looked at humans and decreed “if you’re going to be so fool as to mess your brain up, perhaps it’s best you do”.  Big deal – so your brain is in your head.  What ev.  It’s only the thing that controls everything about your very existence after all.  Your personality, your memories, your decision making processes.  Then there’s the more significant stuff it controls like your heart, your lungs, all of your senses, motor control.  Why wouldn’t you want to protect that thing?  It’s the essence of you after all.  Why do you lock your bike up to protect it but not wear a helmet?

The following argument: the safer you make a given activity, the more careless become the participants thanks to the reduced risk.  Full agreement.  Thing is, brain injury takes remarkably little impact, speed or spectacle.

True story time.  When I was in my early 20s, I had a motorcycle accident that totalled my landlord’s custom Harley and put me in the hospital.  An old man with his nurse in the car (not kidding), turned left across the intersection I was riding through and clobbered me.  I still remember the moment after impact and thinking “Holy sh*t!  I’m flying through the air”!  Things got a bit fuzzy after landing however despite the damage to my wrist, my leg and my foot and the complete loss of the motorcycle now trapped firmly underneath the offending car, my helmet never hit the ground.  There wasn’t a scratch on it.  Had I not been wearing the helmet, I would have walked away without so much as a bump on my noggin.   Okay, I wouldn’t have walked as the helmet’s presence had nothing to do with the gaping flesh wounds and exposed bone but you get the idea – the helmet served no function in a rather spectacular crash (that even blew my shoes off – wear boots).

Fast forward a few years.  An employee of Harley-Davidson Canada whom I knew went to work as an instructor teaching other coneheads like myself how the ways and means of Miliwaukee’s offerings.  While fooling around one afternoon, he took one of the program’s motorcycles into the small parking lot behind the classroom, wheelied it at a rather benign speed, lost control and went over backwards - I’ve recently been correct – the front end washed out when the front wheel came back down and he went over the bars hitting his head.  No speed, no drama.  He was pronounced brain dead a few hours later.  Had he been wearing a helmet, he would – literally – have walked away.

Yes….those are motorcycle accidents but they’re true and I’m using them to illustrate that one does not require a “typical” accident to end up dead due to brain injury.

I’ve heard this argument too: “if I’m in an accident with a car, I’m a dead man anyway”.  Okay – yes, in an altercation with a car a cyclist (motor or pedal) is always on the losing end of the deal but death isn’t the inevitable outcome of those accidents (see above).  That’d be like saying I don’t need to wear my seatbelt because if I have an accident with a gravel truck, it’s going to squash me and my car anyway.  What about all the other things that might put you in a situation that involves your head contacting something not moving in the same plane and direction?  An errant dog, unexpected ice, dive-bombing hawks, me throwing my water bottle through your spokes so I can finally pass you…the possibilities are endless.

Here’s what really boggles my mind though – there’s no down-side to wearing a bicycle helmet.  It doesn’t impede your vision like a motorcycle full-face helmet, doesn’t look any different than 99% of the other cyclists (so it’s not like you’re sticking out amongst other riders), you’re already wearing Lycra pants with a diaper stuffed in them – who cares what the non-cycling populace thinks, they’re not hot, they’re not heavy (I’m sure I have toques that are heavier than my cheapo $80 helmet)… The question isn’t why should I wear a helmet, it’s why wouldn’t I.  Why wouldn’t you?