Week Twenty-Two - Day One: Safety First

BIKE: Mike
TIME THERE: 30 min.
TIME BACK: 39 min. (including a stop at MEC for a new safety jacket)
WEATHER: overcast, -14C, 9 km/hr wind there; overcast, -13C, 7 km/hr wind back.
WHAT I WORE: fleece pants, turtleneck, fleece mid-layer jacket, lobster gloves, balaclava
NOTES:

A couple of weekends ago, I was in my living room when I noticed flashing lights from the main road that's a half-block from my house. Curious as to what happened, I peeled back the curtains and saw several police cruisers and a fire truck right where my little residential street met the busy road. The major road was blocked off and traffic was being redirected down my street and others. "Huh," I thought to myself, "must have been some kind of a crash."

A couple of days later, as I was reading the paper, I found the byline explaining what happened that night. A young, sober driver in a small car had been driving along at the posted speed limit, hit a patch of ice, lost control of his car, and got t-boned by an oncoming truck. The 20-year-old driver of the car died. Tied to a light post at the intersection now, there are balloons and a hand-drawn poster detailing the horrific grief felt by those who loved him. The balloons have wilted and popped in the frigid air and now hang limp and lifeless.

I bike past this roadside memorial every day and am reminded of how lucky I am. I've been biking all winter, through freezing temperatures and darkness and slush, snow, and ice; I've been biking on sidewalks and roadways and anywhere I think I might be able to get some traction; I've feared for my life on those slippery days when I bike alongside speeding cars. But I'm still here. I know that all it would take is a driver to misjudge his distance from me and allow his side mirror to graze my handlebars for me to end up under his wheels. I know that all it would take is my tire catching the edge of a pothole or a parallel crack in the road at the wrong angle and I could crash into a passing car. It would just take one person's momentary inattention and my daughter would be left without a Mom, my brothers would lose their only sister and my parents their only daughter. The professional designation I've been working towards for the past ten years would remain unattained. I would leave behind debt, fond memories, and heartache.

Of course I'm being melodramatic, but it's thoughts like these that remind me of the importance of caution. I can't account for every driver on the road, but I can do everything I can to play safe with my winter cycling. Today, on the way home from work, I stopped off a MEC and picked up a reflective safety jacket that I can slip over anything I'm wearing. Regardless of whether I'm wearing my fleece mid-layer or my waterproof shell or even just a t-shirt, I'll be more visible. I also try to follow the sage advice: be where people expect you to be. If drivers expect me to be on the road, I'll try to stick to the road as much as I can. If I'm expected to bike with traffic rather than against it, that's exactly what I'll do. And if I happen to have to get up on the sidewalk for whatever reason, I will be sure to ride with that much more caution, looking out for people who might not expect to have to look out for me.

The precautions required for safe cycling in the winter slow my ride down considerably. I would rather take an extra ten minutes each way of my commute, though, if it means getting home to see my daughter every night. That's the important thing.