Week Nineteen - Day Five: A Positive Outlook

BIKE: Mike
TIME THERE: 34 min.
TIME BACK: 32 min.
WEATHER: clear, -16C, 6km/hr wind there; clear, -6C, 6km/hr wind back.
WHAT I WORE: fleece pants, fleece mid-layer jacket, turtleneck, lobster gloves, balaclava
NOTES:

The Week in Review

It's Friday, and I haven't really enjoyed biking this week. In fact, I've been deliriously happy that I get to rest my weary bones over the weekend, hoping to melt away the soreness that has been seeping into my thighs and hips and even upper arms and shoulders (keep in mind that over these icy rutty streets and sidewalks, biking has been like riding a freakin' jackhammer for an hour a day). One day my bike lock froze and I was unable to open it until I'd been fiddling around with it in the freezing cold for 10 minutes. I think by then the key (which stays indoors with me during the day) had gotten cold enough in the frosty air to shrink and fit into the lock properly. It was annoying. I also had a near-fall when I encountered a trifecta of hazards: a large icy speed bump, having to make a 90 degree turn, and pedestrians who either could not see me or hear my bell, or just chose to ignore me. This confluence of factors led to a near-fall and immediate sloppy recovery that led to another near-fall. It was not graceful.

But at the end of this first week back to the daily grind after the holidays, I will choose to look back at these past few days and rather than focus on all the times I swore out loud or questioned why the hell I'm doing this, focus on the good things. Because there are always good things! For instance, one day as I was riding home along the northern rim of the river valley, I spotted a pedestrian stop and take a picture of the sunset. I looked out across the valley and saw what compelled this man to capture the scenery: a rich pink-orange sky layered under progressively darker blues, the smallest hint of the top of the sun peaking out over the horizon just before it disappeared, the pink-blue light casting long shadows on the glowing white snow of the trees and wide frozen river below. It was beautiful. I met this pedestrian at a light and we had a friendly chat as we waited for the light to turn. It made my day.

"Lacie Sunset", posted by RedWillow at TheWeatherNetwork.com (Jan. 7/10)

From then on, I made a point for the rest of the week of noticing the sunrises and sunsets. The sun doesn't fully rise until about a half-hour after I arrive at work, so I don't see much in the mornings, but even then I'm beginning to see the vague light and pale pinks where the sky meets the horizon that promise the coming of the sun. This is hopeful for me - it reminds me that the days are indeed getting longer, even if I can't tell quite yet. And best of all, the sun sets towards the end of my ride home, so I get to ride into the sunset every day. It's beautiful.

Also, throughout the week I kept running into another bike-commuter at the bike rack at work. Finally, about mid-way through the week, I said hello. The next time I saw him, I started up a conversation - just a brief one, but just enough to remind me that active commuting is a much more social kind of commuting than my lone car rides. I get to chat with pedestrians and other cyclists when we pause at lights together, and ask for winter riding tips from seasoned bike-commuters when I meet up with them at the bike rack. It's nice to feel connected, even part of a community, and that's something I certainly don't get when I'm driving.

Having gotten through a full five days in a row of bike-commuting (a feat I haven't accomplished since November, given the crazy month of blizzards and record-low temperatures in December), it's starting to feel once again like a regular, everyday thing rather than some heroic battle or dreadful chore. It just feels normal, natural. That's a good feeling.