I swear to you when last I fussed with my commuter bike in December I hadn’t resolved a shifting issue. Yet when I dusted it off this week the cable was perfectly aligned.
The Shimano internal gears has a diagnostic setting. You put it in fourth and two dots appear on the rear sprocket. You adjust the cable tension to align them. But. Uh. When I checked it was perfect.
I had avoided biking in to work a couple times in February because I thought I still had a mechanical issue to deal with.
It’s so weird.
I biked in 3 times this week and it felt really good.
Wednesday was foggy in the morning and gloriously sunny in the afternoon.
Thursday was damp in the morning and very wet in the afternoon.
Friday was damp.
But no snow. No ice. Easy riding.
I’m kicking myself for not riding in February but it was a good reminder of how my brain lies to me.
I need to check the facts because I am not always a reliable reporter.
A rear wheel of a bicycle looking shiny in the sun in front of green grass.
My butt is a little sore from 3 days in a row after 3 months of not riding. I’m the women’s local legend of The Colborne which is, quite possibly the shortest, flattest Strava segment in existence.
But hey. I’m out there doing my silly little rides and much happier for it. No thanks to my lying brain.
One of my favourite fit feminist humans recently suggested I try the two-week trial membership for Lost Cycle, a Toronto-based woman-owned fitness company that expanded to my city in 2019. She thought I would like it because, as she said, it was “cycling in the dark to really loud rap music.”
I am already a fan of doing stuff to music in the dark, as I did with (Remote) Dark Dancing during the COVID pandemic. Also, the timing seemed good to counter any winter break inactivity. So, in spite of reduced holiday hours and some poor weather outside, I made it to four classes, two at each location.
My black car parked in the empty Lost Cycle lot on a cold, wet, sleet-filled winter break morning.
The Lost Cycle studio ambiance is what might be described as “boutique warehouse,” with minimal windows and the company logo spraypainted on walls but also gratis cold towels and individual shower rooms with complimentary products. The fitness areas have quality equipment: ON the bike classes include clip-in shoes and earplugs, while OFF the bike rooms have infrared heat panels and Lululemon yoga mats. The class leaders were all chatty and friendly on their mics, many showing plenty of body tattoos.
The spin class leader‘s station on an elevated platform, close to a podium to adjust sound and light during class.
And, as mentioned, the classes are held in the dark, with just enough artificial and real candle light to see the mirrors and other people.
Dark spin class, with bikes lined up and towels on them. The photo doesn’t capture the ambiance created by the range of electronic dance music and occasional throwbacks.
In class I tried my best to keep up, but made modifications when my knees ached a little. The low lighting and loud music worked to lessen my self-consciousness (being new and only an occasional group fitnesser), though I needed to place myself close to the front to be able to follow instructions. On the mic, leaders were genuinely supportive, reflecting the vibe of the post-it notes on the studio walls: you are enough, you showed up today, you can do this. Other people I have discussed spin with describe being called out during classes. Here, there was none of that.
Dark group fitness with mats, towels, bands, and handweights placed closely together in a heated room. OFF the bike was a blend of HIIT calisthenics, strength training, and yoga stretches.
Near the end of both ON and OFF the bike classes, there is time to really get “lost”: the lights go off and the music goes up and you just have about 3 to 4 minutes to yourself.
And, during the “lost” times while cycling away or lying on my mat, I found myself in tears or near tears. Now, I am in a particularly vulnerable place right now, due to my recent job loss. While I didn’t check if other participants had felt the same thing, in every class I experienced in the dark a kind of emotional release I didn’t know I needed.
Lost Cycle has tapped into different elements of cycle studio / gym ambiance that makes it feel like fun, luxury, and intensity, all the ingredients for something slightly cultish. Though I was on my way to becoming an initiate, I’m not in a $$ position to keep the membership. At least I am taking the lesson home from Lost Cycle: turn off the lights, pump my mid-life music, and make time for both strength and vulnerability.
I have written About this before. So has Sam, multiple times, all the way back to 2018. Our focus was on bikes more generally and how they can help with disabilities, but three years ago I predicted an e-bike would be in my future. It was and I love it.
However, it was out of service for nearly a year with some sort of electrical issue. I hadn’t worried about it over the winter. But then I had to take it to Toronto for repair, only getting it back when my son brought it with him for Thanksgiving,
Meanwhile, my knees have been sufficiently sore that I didn’t feel like biking much this year. Plus I’m still nervous about biking too hard or too long with my heart murmur. And I have needed my car much more because I combine work with errands involving hauling stuff, or visiting my mom who lives almost 30 km away.
Getting the e-bike back felt like a gift, especially when two swimming friends invited me for a little ride. One cycles everywhere and the other does triathlons. Did I mention I have barely ridden in a year?
I didn’t have to worry about keeping up or overdoing it; the little boost from my battery was just enough.
Me with my e-bike, along with Florence and Sumiko, enjoying a glorious late afternoon near the Ottawa River.
We rode for a little over 20 kilometres, with frequent stops to admire the views on both sides of the Ottawa and Gatineau rivers. And of course there was ice cream.
Me in a bright blue shirt, enjoying an ice cream cone It was a locally-made green apple flavour.
It’s late summer in little London, Ontario. The nights are fresh, the mornings crisp and the days are warm.
It’s the kind of weather where I’m comfortable on my commuter bike Myrna. A light sweater and the morning trip is easy. A bit of rain? No problem. It’s still warm. Easy.
It feels a bit like cheating. Getting a 10 minute ride twice in the day with no effort.
Lately I’ve been appreciating the difference between activities and workouts. They both involve using my body and are part of my lifestyle. Thanks to having a smart watch for a year I’m seeing those two things come together in a surprising way.
Apple watches have an “Active energy” metric that calculates the calories one burns with movement.
I was surprised that my workouts only account for a third of my active energy.
Huh.
While I record my cycling commute I do not consider it a workout. I am wearing my office wear. The goal is to take it easy and not get too sweaty. I like recording so I will have my total distance cycled this year. I think it will be more than last year.
The weather will change. Fall is a couple weeks away and sometime in the next 4 months we will get snow. But for now it’s gorgeous outside and it’s easy to keep to my cycling commute.
A white bicycle symbol painted on asphalt with a dusting of golden leaves.
Yes. No doubt about it, I’ve gotten a reputation for knowing a bit about cycling.
In the bike locker at work my colleagues ask about bike fit. I’m not an expert on that so I refer them to Emily. Mechanic. Cyclist. Physiotherapist extraordinaire!
I’m in the hall and a friend confesses she’s signed up for a duathlon. We talk strategies for brick work outs. I think she’s going to have a great time.
I get a message on Facebook from a friend getting ready to start cycling her commute to university in the fall. She is looking for a better experience on her bike. She throws some names and models my way.
Oh dear!
My reputation for being sporty, particularly around cycling, is greater than my actual knowledge! I’m a dabbler, not an expert.
I think why women feel comfortable asking me about cycling is how open I’ve been with challenges and successes.
I’m not an exceptional athlete. I’m the lady with the ten minute commute.
Sure, I do some distance occasionally but I also am an enthusiastic fan of everyone’s workouts, events and races.
Sometimes I feel silly blogging about my modest goals or simple starts on a routine.
Other times I think my stories resonate. One doesn’t need to reinvent their whole like to get more movement in.
I’m not an influencer, in the sense that I make money or gain from my social media presence. I do model that daily movement is achievable.
I’ll take it. It’s a reputation I want to live up to.
A green cycling lane with white borders and a white bicycle painted on it. Go cycling!
Let me start by saying that the adage, “It’s just like riding a bike.” is a lie – I have not been on my bike in a while and riding was NOT a straightforward or automatic process.
So, over the past couple of summers – despite my best-laid plans – I haven’t spent a lot of time on my bike. Actually, phrasing it like that makes it sound like there was a time in my past when I did a lot of cycling but that’s not true.
I have had one bicycle or another ever since I was a kid but I haven’t done any regular riding since I was maybe 12 or so. I occasionally used my bike for transportation when I was in my late teens/early twenties and I did a little bit of riding with my kids when they were younger but neither of them were particularly into cycling AND I found it very difficult to pay attention to their safety and my own.
I know there have been a couple of times here on the blog when I have mentioned my intentions to cycle more and I did put in some effort around those times but sooner or later some combination of lack of skill*, poor weather, general busyness, or good old ADHD time/task challenges would waylay my plans.
As you can probably tell, cycling keeps getting put into the “I’d like to but…” category for me so I was quite surprised to wake up last Thursday with the thought “I’m going to go for a short bike ride this morning.”
So, around 10:30, after I drove my eldest to work, I lathered on some sunscreen, excavated my bike from the shed, put on my helmet and took off.
Truth be told, I wobbled off but I was on my bike so I’m calling it a victory.
As I got to the end of my street, I discovered that the easy path to the parking lot I was going to practice in was blocked off by a road crew who were fixing some wiring. So I had to turn around (very awkwardly and with an audience – sigh!)to go another way, another way that was UP A HILL.
At this point, I was being asked to demonstrate two challenging things immediately. I have a bit of trouble making any turns so making a tight turn was a nightmare. And going uphill is, well, going uphill. (And yes, for the record, I *do* feel quite odd talking about my challenges amongst all the excellent cyclists on this blog.)
But I got through both challenges with a good combination of spite, perseverance, and walking my damn bike in spots and then had the reward of riding downhill to my planned practice area.
I got to the parking lot and decided that riding in a large oval around the (empty) parking spots would be a good way to practice turning in a low-risk environment. And because I was looping around the same number of parking spots, I could create a baseline measurement of my efforts and how I was feeling at different points in the loops.
It went ok.
I was, however, plagued by the thoughts that pop up whenever I am trying to build a skill. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing here? Is there something you’re missing? Is this hard because you need more practice or is it hard because you are missing some information? Maybe you are wasting time and effort here because there’s a little trick you don’t know? Maybe you should stop until you know what you’re doing?”
(Are those questions an ADHD thing? A Christine thing? A human thing? Since I have always been me, a human with ADHD, I don’t know how to distinguish which thoughts belong to which category.)
I didn’t let my brain talk me out of my self-defined practice though. I filed a few questions away to ask my husband later and just did what I set out to do.
And then I left for home.
It was only as I reached the end of the parking lot that I remembered the road crew and the fact that I had ridden downhill right before arriving at the lot.
That meant I had to ride uphill AGAIN right away and right after tiring myself out with my parking lot practice.
I did a ride/walk combination and got myself back home with minimal swearing but a fair bit of sweating and drank about 25L of water. (ok, it was probably far less than that but this version is more interesting AND it speaks to my perception of my refreshment.)
And I definitely plan to do it again this week.
Maybe even twice.
I think this expression could be described as ‘bemused smirk.’ Image description: a selfie taken during one of my MANY breaks on my short bike ride. I am wearing a grey and green helmet and large sunglasses and I’m smirking in a ‘Get a load of this nonsense.’ kind of way. I’m wearing a black blouse that has white star-like shapes on it, my hair is sticking out under the helmet and kind of curling backward in a mullet-y sort of way and I look a bit sweaty.
*I have always found cycling very challenging. I don’t make good use of the gears (a combination of a lack of practice and an utter inability to remember what to do when.) I find it hard to turn and I get panicky about it and often overcorrect. I am plagued and distracted by the feeling that I am missing an important piece of information that will keep me safe/make this easier. Yeah, there are a bunch of things.
PS – So, I just came back to this post to edit something and accidentally opened last week’s post instead. I had completely forgotten what I had written last week but I was delighted to discover that I actually followed a lot of my own guidelines when I decided to go out on my bike.
On Saturday August 9 I’m volunteering to support riders on The Railway City 100 km Populaire and 200 km Brevet in St Thomas, Ontario.
The ride starts at 8am and is designed to have you back at the Railway City Brewery for lunch. If you are continuing on to complete the 200 km distance you head westerly and are back for dinner. It’s a great route with supported controls at 50 km and 150km. The butterfly shape means you are never further than 25 km from support. That feels nice.
I am a big fan of volunteering to support sporting events. Volunteers make the wheels go round!
From the Club Board, Chapter representatives and even people in Paris, France help ensure randonneuring events happen.
Routes are carefully designed and scheduled to allow folks to meet criteria for medals, qualify for Paris-Breast-Paris (PBP) and get all the distances in.
Clockwise from the top Fred, Marc, Natalie and Michel smile at the camera outside of Railway City Brewery the morning of the 2023 brevet.
Last year I rode the 100 km distance. It was the furthest I had ridden in many years.
Natalie and Michel smile at the camera after a successful populaire ride that included a little detour and a big serving of headwind.
The route is relatively flat and easy to navigate. It’s a great introduction to other riders and the sport in general.
So to pay forward the support I got I chose to volunteer again this year. I’d love to see you there!
You get a free trial ride without paying for a membership. You can find the routes, other details and the registration link here: Huron Chapter Rides
So…are you Rando curious? Come on out! I’ll be at the controls with snacks, sodas and a smile.
If all is going according to plan, I’m already rolling South-east from Grand Bend to London while you read this.
I got up at 4:30, Michel and I plunked our bikes on the back of The Natmobile and popped over to pick up Tracy & Tyler.
It’s an hours drive so a Tim Horton’s stop is “deriguer” before we coast into the motorplex, park and get ready to roll.
I love the nervous and excited energy of riders and volunteers as everyone schleps gear and runs to the bathroom a dozen times.
I’m feeling so good this year. My cycling volume is 3 to 4 times what is was the past 2 years. My legs are strong from my tiny but frequent commutes. My balance is much better thanks to physiotherapy. My fundraising is ON FIRE! So positive on so many fronts.
This year’s emotional component is much more poignant. A dear friend lost their parent to MS in the spring. Another friend is newly diagnosed has started treatment. They told me the treatment didn’t even exist 3 years ago. Wow. Talk about a concrete reason to fundraise.
My strategy for getting donations has often focused on my efforts to train up and good natured competition of who can raise the most money. I do that because it can feel icky to share other peoples’ stories and then ask for money.
Those stories are why we ride. I’ve cried a lot on rides. Tears of empathy, compassion, gratitude, frustration. All the tears.
I do get verklempt when I see the “I ride because I have MS” jerseys.
So. Rain or shine I’m riding even if the weather cancels one of the days.
It’s 80 km each day. Michel and I broughtsupplies for a self supported ride.
And if you would like to donate, there’s still time!
My partner and I took our bicycles on a short holiday road trip across part of Ontario, Canada to visit family and friends. It wasn’t a cycling holiday, but it was a holiday that involved some cycling. Road trip cycling was a new experience for us recent owners of a road bike (me) and an e-bike (my partner). Among visits, dinners, and museum trips, we managed to get out 3 times in 6 days.
Road trip cycling gives you a new way to explore new places. On ours, the weather was beautiful and the locations were scenic. After a few times, we got bike and gear extraction and repacking with the SUB down to a science. But it wasn’t issue-free.
A relatively new road cyclist training with a club, I was excited to explore longer paths mapped by other cyclists using my Ride GPS app. But I mistakenly assumed I would be leading the rides. I didn’t recognize it right away, but it turns out my partner had their own ideas about which way and for how long we should ride, decisions made more by feeling and impulse.
Our differences of opinion led to some frustration. The GPS-marked paths I chose sometimes had some longer-than-comfortable gravel stretches or were busy with “walkers.” The random paths my partner chose led to dead ends or us dodging traffic to cross busy roads. One time we each doggedly took what we thought was the best route … and lost sight of each other (phone call, waiting). Another time we got different advice from hotel staff on how to best get our bikes out of the underground parking lot, so we each stubbornly took our own ways up topside.
When cycling alone or with a club, I have learned, there is generally a single and shared vision of the ride. When cycling casually with a partner in new places, the path, duration, and speed must all be negotiated. You’d think we could have just laugh it off at the time, but when one of us had felt really uncomfortable based on a choice the other had made it wasn’t always easy to find levity.
Next time I will still plan our rides with maps, but I will also try to go with the flow, communicate more, and keep upbeat when something unexpected happens. Maybe we agree to alternate who lead the rides. Maybe we each get one “turnaround” audible per ride if things feel bad for one of us. Holiday road trip cycling is not only enjoyable; it can also be an interesting test of a partnership!
Who leads when you ride casually with a partner, family member, or a friend? How do you negotiate differences?
A map of Belleville with a red line marking the path riddenA map of Wolf’s Island with a red line marking the path riddenA map of Ottawa with a red line marking the path ridden
