Where I get back on the bike

Where the rubber hits the road
London, ON
March 2016

The weather's been glorious for much of the week, so as the weekend approached, I found myself staring at the pink Specialized bike that's been parked in the living room for months - my wife is infinitely patient and lovely, and she puts up with my weird cyclist-parking habits - and thinking that it was time to roll it out and give it a workout.

The obligatory cycling selfie

So today dawned warm and greyish, and that was good enough to get it out of the house, give it a bit of a cleaning and tweaking and see if I remembered how to ride the thing.

Fortunately, my gyroscopic memory remains intact, and I managed to spin for 26.8 km without incident. I didn't set any speed records, but that wasn't really the point in the first place. Instead, I returned home with a grin on my face and a determination to make this cycling season count more than the last couple of years have. Since my little, ah, incident (here, if you're just joining us), I've admittedly been more than a little afraid to get on and ride. If we're being brutally honest, I've been a wimp, using any excuse in the book to stay out of the saddle.

I'm posting this today to remind myself, on those days when I'm [this close] to making another excuse to not take the bike, that cycling to me was in the not-too-distant past way more than a means of getting around town. It was my culture, my identity, and my passion. And it will be again, fear be damned.

For the record, I parked my wheels in the garage when I was done. My wife deserves a bike-free living room.

Your turn: Do you ride? Where will your bike take you this year?