Climbin’ up the mountain, children…

So I finally got off my butt and took a real bike ride. I went up the mountain to the Fortino’s in Ancaster and back, on Brad’s bike, Bella. Bike: light and fast. Me: not so much. I can’t keep up with those fast Italian women. Who am I kidding? I did pass a couple of commuters on the way up the hill, but overall, it was a hard climb. I was inching along. By the top, my lungs and legs were asking me for severance pay.

Going up was an ordeal. Coming back down was an adventure. First, I got passed, before the serious descent, by a guy on a Trek mountain bike. With knobbies. Sheesh. Then, I got passed by a couple more people, but they were on expensive road bikes. At the light just before the Rousseaux St. intersection, the right-hand lane was turn-only, so I politely placed myself between lanes, on the right of the going-straight lane. When the light changed, a guy in a Buick or something on my right decided he was going to go straight instead of right (as he ought), and cut in front of the guy on my left, and very nearly hit me (which would have smacked me into the middle of a fairly busy street). Excuse me, can you tell me where your lane is at… a**hole?!

At the Rousseaux St. intersection, some lady raced in front of the oncoming lanes to turn left, a few seconds after our light turned green to go straight. There was honking, and some yelling on my part. And more honking as she nearly hit another car on Rousseaux St.

The hill was fun. Single speed = my feet can’t go fast enough. I coasted a lot, and passed the time exercising my perceptual-motor system and telling myself I can totally trust Brad’s bicycle maintenance habits. That’s interesting. That engages your attention. I can’t imagine fixed-gear on something like that hill.

Now I’m home, my knee is on ice, the cat is being homicidally entertained by random inanimate objects, and Alex is at Mac, rehearsing for her play. Cool breeze from the window, the light is starting to get golden, and there are lawnmowers growling pleasantly in the neighborhood. Nope, I still don’t miss Winter. Give it another few years.