On Cryogenics Redux

For a frankly bizarre past few months, I was beginning to think that global climate change might make my winter commute a little more pleasant. Well what can I say, winter finally struck back on Friday, struck back with a vicious sort of vengeance I had previously thought only a lover once scorned could match.

With the exception of the days right after a crash (thanks to street car tracks covered in snow at the pens on Queen at Greenwood – hit concurrently with a urgent email that sent my blackberry buzzing up a storm) and a defective rear tyre a few weeks ago that caused a pinch flat every single ride until I threw the tyre out. I have been using pedal power pretty much continuously since I put my Ultegra Groupo on the Coppi back in September. (Of course I also have my beautiful carbon fibre works of fine art, but the very thought of riding one of them through the salty streets of Toronto makes my stomach knot up. The fact that Igor Kenk is due out of a jail in just a few months is yet another reason to avoid use of the bikes that exceed the value of the family car - a 2001 Audi.)

Well besides a mechanical difficulty and snow induced clumsiness (I blame the vendor who sent me an urgent email, it was a quote, for something we never actually bought before I changed employers). This winter had actually been a reasonably straightforward affair commuting wise. The feeble amount of snow has made trivial the act of getting to work each morning.

This past Friday was different, it was cold. I suppose someone from out west would point out that I am an Easterner and a complainer, just as I am sure someone from the east would point out that I am a Westerner and a complainer, but as a resident of the city that called up the army on account of the snow, it was cold. Dry cold, damp cold, I don’t know and I don’t care. Friday was so bad that every breath was painful, my lungs were taking millions of tiny knifes. I was convinced as I pulled off my three layers of gloves that my hands were frost bitten. When the blood did start pouring through my frozen fingers I rediscovered a pain the likes of which I cannot describe.

Into this cold I discovered something, a Canadian former pro cyclist, Steve Bauer, has hit upon the entirely not unique idea of establishing a Canadian cycling team. I spoke with a friend of mine about the idea and he did not think much of it. The problem as my friend pointed out is that in just a few weeks the pro season begins in Europe, by the time the big spring classics begin, races like the Tour des Flandres and my own personal favourite, The Queen of the North, The Paris-Roubaix, the European pros will have been racing for two months, into this maelstrom Canadians who have hardly trained at all on the open road will try to compete? (!) Of course I value my friends opinion on this as he was himself a formerly a sponsored UCI sanctioned pro cyclist.

Still the effort to establish a Canadian racing tradition is laudable and as I would very much like to cheer for some Canadians at The Tour or the Gyro. Therefore provided the roads are dry and clear I will be riding, come frost bite inducing cold or lunatic drivers this Saturday February 6 and Sunday the 7’th, and I have invited my friend the former pro racer (and now self employed as the owner of a bike repair shop – a useful person to have around on a long ride) and extend an open invitation to everyone else. We may be too old too out of shape too committed (to a family or career) to join a pro team, but if we ride hard we can establish a new Canadian tradition if only in our own minds but perhaps one day we might inspire some young Canadian who might one day where a yellow jersey as he (or she?) rides from Place de la Concorde to Le Arc de Triomphe.