The Cycle of Life

The Cycle of Life

I went on my first real cycling adventure since turning 60. I really mean that I followed my wife to work on a bike. She has travelled to work like this for a couple of years now and she enjoys the opportunity. I admired her for being a commuting cyclist. She initially bristled at the term, so I explained that commuting demonstrates an admirable lifestyle choice. Commuting by bike seemed more real than merely cycling for pleasure or exercise. Real means to serve a particular purpose. Although exercise serves a purpose to maintain one’s health and fun and happiness becomes an end in itself.

I was telecommuting on my laptop one fine sunny June morning when she suggested we both should go biking to her place of work. Now, bike commuting was the exact opposite of what I was trying to accomplish that day, but she threw in the non-negotiable ‘it’s something we could do together’. The request did not appear to be a relationship issue, but the wrong answer could possibly make it one. At work, we have been working on emotional intelligence and I sensed this was something to go along with even though we had not specifically covered this in our course work.

I am more of a fair weather purpose driven cyclist and I do like to go somewhere and come back again. Preferably in great weather and a low car density time. Cycling at the time of highest car density is not something I am keen to do, but I eagerly agree this morning notwithstanding.

I lightly mention to her that I don’t have a city bike, but my wife quickly points out that I own five bikes for road and trails. I know people with 12 bikes but I am not a strong advocate of the ‘well it could be worse…just look at this guy’ type of defense. At least I have never been a successful advocate with her on this topic. So I make do and raise the seat on one of my wife’s old bikes.

My wife is a keen commuter and she has all right gear: helmet mirror, paniers, and a steely don’t frack with me attitude. Her specialized commuter bike can handle various types of weather and pavement. Shocks and disc brakes are a must. The headlight and the taillight flash at a frequency that motorists can find nausea inducing. Apparently all is fair in love and commuting.

We set out first thing in the morning. We live on the edge of downtown on a forested street, but two blocks over, you are not in Kansas any longer. We quickly encounter hundreds of individuals commuting in steel surrounded, leather upholstered, supplemental restraint system enclosed vehicles. My own car incorporates six airbags scattered across the interior. You don’t think of them until you don’t have them.

We join the flow of dozens of other cyclists. These other biking commuters must have been feeling virtuous, but I couldn’t tell from their visage. No one is particularly happy looking, but then again everyone is going to work.

Cycling to her office my wife follows a specific route along the various bike lines, times the lights, and emanates that specific attitude previously mentioned, which should not be ignored.

While going down these bike lanes along a one way street, I have a bit of an ‘oh dear’ type of moment. I know how to drive home from her place of business, but I have no idea how to safely bike back home. Apprehensively looking around, I search for a road to safety. Eventually I see an adjacent road sign with a bike path. I cycle further into the city’s heart of darkness knowing that I have a clear path home.

You can easily discern professional commuters, my wife among them. Sensing their environment, they confidently enter the intersection after the light turns green. Their traffic awareness becomes their airbag. Attitude is their car horn.

Finally arriving at my wife’s work, she pulls out two titanium locking systems for the frame and both wheels. Early that week, someone took the rear light and the handlebar grips. The light had a disco/strobe/stroke inducing effect, and I could see someone taking that away. But the grips were not causing anyone harm.

We say our goodbyes, and I venture on in confidence. Turning from the ‘commuter’ mode into a tourist mode, I enjoy the return home. I had never cycled downtown before. I look around at the various city construction areas and watch the activity. The road construction delays no longer are an aggravation. I notice some of the smaller sitting parks and the people with their various brands of specialty coffee. The green space around the legislative buildings has a giant inuksuk that I never noticed before. The installation may have been recent, but it was likely there for decades. Cars insulate you from all of this activity just outside your window as drivers focus on the road, their sound system and going around the cyclists.

Back home, I return to my traditional tele non-commute. Later in the day I go for ride through the park with my road bike, away from downtown and avoiding the traffic. At that speed, I watch the road to avoid stones and potholes, but I fully appreciate the surroundings whizzing by. I also appreciate fewer vehicles whizzing by me.

That evening, my wife returns from her commute. She appears tired but still happy to see me. A chicken dinner roasts on the BBQ. She asks about my day, and I tell her that I had a great day of commuting and the things I saw and experienced for the first time.

We recently booked a Napa valley cycling tour, and we endeavor to see things more clearly and appreciate the journey even more.