I just happen to be in St. John's on the wettest day of the so-called summer. See illustrative photo.

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Cadence Weaponry

Why can't I look this damn smashing when I'm hunched over my bike repairing a tyre?

It had been awhile since I'd actually gone out on a longer ride on a Saturday. Since the weather hasn't been great this spring I guess I've been avoiding it. Counting this Saturday it was only the third time. The first was really pretty short, 30 KM, mainly because I was running out of time and had to get home. The next time I had planned on going a lot further but by 20 KM I had to turn around and barely made it back due to a mechanical problem (that, if I wasn't careful, would've become a medical problem). So that was a 40 KM ride. Saturday, I planned on trying to reach my goal of 80 KM. It was a gorgeous day with a perfect temperature and the bike seemed in good shape so I thought I'd take my time and go the distance. Not only would I try to reach a distance but I would keep an eye on my bike computer and watch my cadence (pedal rate) and try to stay between 80-90 as much as possible. But after more than an hour and a half I looked at the bike computer and I'd only done 33 KM and my average cadence was too brutal to mention, so I decided to head back. At least it had been a good ride, I discovered some new routes and the bike had held… that's when my rear tire felt wooden and began to fish tail. Another flat. I had actually been extremely careful to avoid pot holes but when the road becomes a pot hole held together by mini archipelagos of asphalt it becomes difficult to avoid anything. I was still more than 20 KM from home.

As luck would have it, I'm getting very good at changing tires on this bike. I had a spare inner tube and one of those CO2 cartridges in lieu of a pump. The only thing I don't like about the cartridge is it's kind of a one-shot deal. If you screw up, you don't really get another chance. It did work - sort of. The tire completely inflated but obviously the tube was twisted somewhere thus creating a bulge and thus an uneven ride (your wheel no longer resembles a circle so on every rotation you bump along). Let's just say it was a hard day for the, um, perineal fascia¹. There are two things I can say about Toronto's Lakeshore Drive. It's in worse shape than GM and at least every 5 KM there is a KFC. Taunting you. Sickening you. You might think oh for sure I'll see a half a dozen Tim Hortons but nope. It ain't Tim you see, it's the Colonel.

I finally made it home and rested my bones. 80 KM is still within my reach, I think I just need a few more rides. In the end I'd done 66.5 KM and I wasn't broken by a busted tire (though I'm getting a little fed up with it). I said it was sunny though I didn't realize how sunny. I ended up with a nice radiation burn a la our sun. I guess because my shirt and shorts are snug the burn formed perfect edges almost as though they were painted on which looked pretty awesome when I went to the pool on Sunday. 44 laps. 1 KM. Took me 40 minutes. At that rate it would've taken me 44 hours to travel the same distance I did on my bike in 3 and a half (odd symmetry in those numbers). Even a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. Let's just hope I don't blow a flat underwater.

FN 1. Yes I used this phrase, and yes I used the Internet to find it, but I just didn't want this bit to get all R-rated and up in your face but we're all adults here and sometimes there just isn't a good clean colloquial way of saying "soft bits" succinctly. Well, I guess "soft bits" is succinct enough. I've noticed in sports reporting they'll say "sensitive areas". C'mon. The Middle-East is a sensitive area. Let's just call a spade a spade.

UPDATE: On June 13 Peter Rogers achieved his goal by riding 82 KM in 3hrs 27mins. without any mechanical or medical difficulties.

A White-out Christmas 

I'm not sure when it happened (certainly years ago), but at some point I stopped dreaming of White Christmases. Instead I dreamt only of quiet, slightly frosty ones. Something cold and crisp and refreshing. Like a cold beer after a strenuous workout. That's the way I want Christmas to be. Simple. Consumable. Recyclable. A refreshing pause to finish the year with.

Despite my wishes, it looks like we will have a white christmas. More than white. Piled-up-high white. Hard-to-get-out-of-the-laneway white. Last year, I think 4 of my 7 days in St. John's were spent shoveling. Between that and the Playstation I got carpal tunnel syndrome sumthin' wicked! I was holding out hope that this year, Toronto's mild winters combined with a well-oiled TTC streetcar would mean an easily traversed holiday. Since Friday however, "mild" became "wild" and I haven't been close enough to a streetcar to tell you if it is well-oiled or not.

One less thing to worry about, has been our tree. No less than three major media outlets (CBC, the Economist and the Washington Post owned Slate.com) have confirmed that an authentic Christmas tree is in fact more environmentally sound than a fake tree.

You can hear the explanation here.

Or read it here.

Thank God for that. Finally, I can rest easy, bathed in the eery glow of LED lights powered by our green power supplier as I consume local cheeses on home-made bread while drinking a beer made mere kilometres from my house. Damn, I'm good. I might just turn up the heat. It is natural gas after all.

Links in this post:
The Economist: O Tannenbaum
Slate Podcasts:Should I Buy a Fake Fir?

Unlimited Ceiling

Sunrise: 7:15 AM
Sunset: 4:51 PM
Humidity: 40%
Wind: 22 km/hr
Pressure: 101.64 kPa
visibility: 24 km
Ceiling: unlimited.

It's sunny right now, like a glorious autumn day, but that won't last. We're sealing the windows, installing the storm windows, switching the sheets to flannel. Welcome winter. You came early and we weren't quite ready. You knocked on the door and we were still vacuuming, putting flowers in water, checking the simmering supper — we haven't opened the wine yet, or checked to make sure there was ample T.P. in the bathroom, or put on any atmospheric music. You're a terrible guest and frankly you had overstayed your welcome before you even arrived.