Borrowed

For the first time, I didn't think I'd meet a challenge.

Spoiler alert: challenge met.

At the start of the month, I had joined a cycling challenge through my Garmin watch and its Connect app. I join these challenges almost every month during cycling season, knowing that I can complete it. June made these challenges difficult—to cycle a certain distance in a period of time, like 400 kilometres over the course of the month, or 100 kms in a week, or 40K over a weekend—because the weather was bad (either rain or gusting winds).

I completed all of my June challenges and confidently joined the July challenges the same way, taking on all three of the aforementioned distance challenges. The challenge to complete 100 kms in a week ended last Saturday, and I came close to not meeting it.

All because of my bike.

Last Thursday, as I mentioned on Monday, the crank arm that was supposed to be repaired came loose during the first ride that I took after collecting it from the bike shop. I would have ridden my bike sooner, except I had come down with a throat infection that took the wind out of my sails. Thursday was the first day that I felt good enough to ride, and I only had three days left to complete my 100K challenge.

I had planned to ride about 60K but only made it just over 36K before I called it quits, not wanting to risk further damage to the bike or to my safety. DW rescued me about 24 kms from home and we took my bike directly back to the shop. I wouldn't see it again until Sunday, the day after my 100K challenge would be over.

I do have another bike that I can ride and I had used it at the end of June, when my road bike was initially in the shop, in order to complete my June cycling challenges. But that bike is heavy and I find that my thumbs will ache after a couple of hours of changing gears. My hands also get numb faster than with my road bike (poor circulation does it to me all the time).

On Friday afternoon, some good friends of ours invited us to join us at their cottage, just west of Perth. We were already planning to visit them on Saturday but they told us that if we didn't have plans, we could come that evening.

The only plan I had for Friday (and possibly later, on Saturday) was to complete my 100K challenge. If DW and I were to head to the cottage after work on Friday, I wouldn't have time to complete the remaining 64 kms of my challenge.

Unless...

I asked DW if I could borrow her bike. "I'll cycle to Perth and you can pick me up and take me the rest of the way to the cottage."

I've cycled to Perth before, as part of the Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour. But the 77-km route from Algonquin College avoids major roadways and would take me more than three hours to complete, and I had forgotten parts of that route (I've only cycled it twice and I was following signs and other cyclists). This time, I would be starting from home (a little closer to Perth) and planned to stick to the most-direct route, which would mean taking County Road 10 through Richmond and Franktown.

I know this road and there are sections that I just don't like: long stretches of unpaved shoulders; potholes and crumbling pavement on the edges of the asphalt; drivers exceeding the 80 kph speed limit (I should know: I do it, too).

"You'll take good care of my bike?" asked DW. Her bike, an Opus, is the same size as mine, and DW has it pretty much configured as I have my own. It wasn't a perfect fit but I didn't have to readjust her seat or handlebars.

"At least as good as I care for my own." The parts that were being replaced were due to years of use and not due to neglect or abuse.

Fallowfield Road, between Moodie Drive and Steeple Hill Crescent, is awful and I hate to ride it, but at least it's a short distance. Same with Richmond Road, from Steeple Hill to just past Cambrian Road, but then there's a paved shoulder into the town of Richmond. Where the road gets bad, again, is the west end of Richmond until you cross Munster Road, when the shoulder is paved again until you reach Dwyer Hill Road.

The paved shoulder comes and goes, and I was constantly finding vehicles—particularly, pickup trucks—not respecting the one-meter distance. IT'S THE LAW, PEOPLE!

It took two hours and forty-five minutes to get from my driveway to Perth's town hall. DW had passed me, just before I reached Richmond, and waited in a parking lot as I passed by. She was looking for me to give a thumbs up, a signal that I was comfortable on her bike and could make the whole journey. By the time I had reached Perth, she had spent at least an hour with our friends at their cottage.

Straight line to Perth.

From home to Perth, I covered 67.5 kms, completing my week-long challenge. Nearly two-thirds of the challenge completed in one ride and on a borrowed bike. When I arrived at the cottage, I went straight into the lake, not bothering to change out of my cycle shorts and jersey.

They needed a good rinse.

Would I do this ride again? Maybe. And maybe, next time, I'd continue all the way to Stanleyville, the closest village to the cottage. But I think I'd have to see if there's a smoother and safer route to take. It might be longer but it would be less stressful.

Of course, I'd have to wait until DW and I are invited back to our friends' cottage.

Happy Friday!

Road Tax

Like so many road cyclists, I've had my share of people who pull up along side me, roll down their windows, and scream at me to get off the road. I've had assholes get ahead of me, only to put two wheels onto the shoulder to kick up dirt and gravel.

I've had idiots tell me that they don't pay their "road tax" to share said roads with cyclists.

There's no such thing as a road tax, and if there is (provincial and municipal tax?), I pay just as much as drivers do.

These drivers are boneheads and for the most part, I can ignore them. But there are other problems that I face when I'm on my bike that are sometimes hard to avoid.

Potholes.

There are a lot of roads in the city and outskirts that are really, poorly maintained. Some have no paved shoulder, and that's okay as long as the roads themselves are in decent shape, though some have edges that are cracked up, to the point where the edges have crumbled into the shoulder. Usually, these roads aren't as bad for motorized vehicles, but if you're a cyclist, you often find yourself moving further out into the road and into the way of traffic.

Some roads do have paved shoulders, and I tend to seek these out. With a paved shoulder, I can easily put myself further out from the white line on the sides of the roads, which means that a passing car or truck does not have to move into the centre line to pass me. Good for me: good for them.

But there are some of these paved shoulders that are in really bad shape. Some are covered in dirt or scattered with bits of gravel, or worse—shards of glass and twisted pieces of metal. When I encounter this sort of debris, I'm forced to move out into the lane to avoid it, possibly putting myself in danger.

There are also some roads where the paved shoulders are riddled with potholes. And not just fist-sized potholes: I'm talking crater-sized potholes, that could easily hide furry animals or small children.

Take Fallowfield Road, in the southwest end of Ottawa, between Moodie Drive and Steeple Hill Crescent, near the village of Fallowfield. If you're cycling westbound, you have to pay close attention to the shoulder. There's a lot of gravel strewn along it. There are potholes so big that if they were on the main part of the road, drivers would be up in arms.

And, along this stretch of road, the posted speed limit is 80 kph, of which many drivers exceed.

On Sunday, DW and I were cycling along this stretch of road, on our way to Stittsville. DW was close behind me, and because she was so close, she had to take her cues of where to move based on where I put my bike.

I was weaving all over the shoulder, avoiding debris, rocks, and mostly, potholes. As I passed the turn-in for Monaghan Forest, I saw a lot of gravel on the outer part of the shoulder, so I moved closer to the car lane. But as I moved out, I saw a massive pothole directly in front of me, and the road-side of the painted white line was also in bad shape.

Because there were fast-moving cars coming up from behind us, I couldn't move further out into the road, so I tried to squeeze between the pothole and the scattering of gravel. And that's when I saw it: another large pothole.

At this point, there was little I could do: I stood on my pedals, lifting my butt from my seat. I pulled up on my handlebars so that my front wheel could jump the hole. I didn't have time to warn DW: I could only let out a yelp.

My back wheel hit the pothole hard. I could feel the sharp jar through my body. My upper and lower teeth smashed together and vibrated throughout my jaw. With the front wheel cleared of the hole and firmly back on the ground, I saw a small black object flying up in front of me and head toward the overgrown ditch. My trajectory was straight into gravel, and as I fought to slow down, down I went.

DW also hit the pothole, but because she saw my last-minute swerve and heard my yelp, she didn't seem to hit the hole as hard. She was mostly focused on me, making sure I was all right.

"My phone has flown off my bike," I said, getting to my feet. I was a bit shaken but was thankfully able to unclip a shoe from my pedal before I hit the ground, and I slid more than I fell.

I have a phone holder that is mounted on my bike. I've had it for many years and through three or four smartphones. As the length of newer phones have increased, the holder has now become stretched to its maximum for my current phone. It holds snugly, but as I had just learned, if my bike receives a powerful blow, the holder will launch my phone.

I put my bike down on the slope of the ditch, away from traffic, and looked back at the tall growth between the potholes and where the marks my tires had left in the gravel had begun. Somewhere, in there, my phone was hiding from me.

Luckily, my watch has a find-my-phone app, which pings my smartphone. My phone makes a loud noise, like a high-pitched radar blip. Immediately, I could hear the sound, but with the traffic moving, it took a few moments to pinpoint its location.

It's not our falls that define us: it's how we get back up and carry on that does.

With my phone back in its holder and myself dusted off, we continued our ride. DW, thankfully, was no worse for wear, though she did say that she nearly slammed into the back of me.

Our city really needs to maintain our roads. And that includes our paved shoulders. I have logged a report with the city, citing the location of these hazards.

There is no road tax. We all pay the same taxes. And because we do, cyclist should be shown the same consideration as drivers do. We deserve to have safe places to ride upon.

Black and White Project: Week 50