I was driving to church yesterday, turned south onto Warden and headed up a very familiar hill that I affectionately call, “The Misleader.” It doesn’t look very steep but when I’m on my road bike, this hill subtly changes angle about midway up. The trek to the top leaves me gulping for air.
(Just as a side note, I know this hill because of what it feels like cycling UP but Chris and Phoenie call this hill, “The Tickle Hill” because of what it feels like driving DOWN! )
Anyway, back to my story. I really miss my road bike. Once the snow comes, it gets all cleaned up and hibernates in the front shed for the winter months. I personally think it deserves a more regal resting place – in our townhouse, it hung proudly on a specially commissioned, made-to-measure wall rack – but Chris put his foot down when we moved to the lake so I surrendered it to the shed.
(Just as another side note, we still have an “ornamental bike” hanging on the living room wall in this house – perfect for hanging plants!)
Back to my story…again.
My road bike and I are friends. I’ve been averaging about 3000 kilometres every April-November for about ten years now so that boils down to a lot of alone time on the back roads. I never get bored. I do get tired but I never get bored. I joined a cycling club for a couple of years but quickly learned that I didn’t like the competitive aspect of the time trials and the club rides so I started venturing out on my own and that’s the way it’s been ever since. Cycling is MY time. I don’t want to try to keep up with anyone and I don’t want to wait for anyone. I don’t want to make small talk or have any deep discussions – I just want to ride at my own pace and be alone with my thoughts.
This week, I’m going to tell you some cycling stories. A lot can happen on a bike. I’ve learned some good life lessons – some have been painful and some have been funny – but all have been good for my soul.