I miss summer. It appears winter has finally settled in here (not that I’m complaining… mid-November is a late start, on average) and in recent days I’ve found myself thinking longingly of my bike. I miss the convenience of hopping on a bike to meet friends or grab groceries or head to/from work. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to meet this weather face first, literally; truly, I am a fair weather bicycle commuter. You will not catch me chaining my tires and wearing 7 layers and freezing my eyelashes to my glasses. Still, I miss my bike.
I know in the weeks and weeks since I last rode that my legs have resumed their regular soft form – they are once again sans sexy biker muscles. (Oh, the calves!) I can already feel that next spring is going to be a battle to get my body used to the darn river valley hill again. The easy solution would be to drag my ass to spin class but, honestly, after biking through the river valley and other parts of the city, riding a stationary bike just seems downright boring. Oh woe is me.
The problem really is that we live in a place with 8 to 10 months of winter. And every year I wonder why the heck we still live here. I hate being cold, so I pretty much hate life for 8 to 10 months of the year. All my cold peeps, I know you feel me on this one. Really though, I blame our families for our predicament. For teaching us to be all family-oriented and stuff. And then for staying in this godforsaken climate. So we’re stuck here… unless we don’t care about spending special occasions and helping each other move and babysitting and all that random stuff that families like to do with and for each other. It’s all their fault. Yet again, the woe!
Summer really is a time of freedom. It’s a time where we don’t have to deal with the confines of winter jackets, and the toque hair, and the annoying instances where socks are pulled half off when I drag my feet out of my boots (this just happened to me two days ago, and I literally stared at my feet a moment and then resigned myself to the next 8 to 10 months of sock adjustments). In summer I’m comfortable in just two layers, sometimes even just one, and I can come and go from the house without freezing my fingers off if I forget a pair of gloves. Even waiting for a bus in summer means randomly dancing to my MP3 player and doing step-ups on the bus benches – both things I can’t do now without risk of injury from the darn ice. Oh the freedom! Oh the woe!
Alas, the snow is here now and my eyelashes may freeze to my glasses whether I bike or not. But being the silly western Canadian that I am, I will just as soon forget these horrid winters once I am able to pump up those tires and take the lovely for a ride around the block, perhaps in early May, or April if we’re lucky. And then I’ll limp back into the house complaining of bike groin. Ah the things we miss…