In one last mad attempt to prove my love, I rode my bicycle to City Cinema tonight, thinking that somehow all reports of the incompatibility of snow, ice, salt, and sand with cycling were exaggerated.
Alas, they were not: it was a slippery, sketchy, cold end to a May-to-December romance that had to end.
This was truly the year of cycling for me: my first ride of the year was on April 30, out Kensington Road to the PEI Brewing Company for an energy efficiency event. That was a hard slog, and I had to hop off and walk up the last hill.
It got better.
I started cycling to get the groceries every week. I rode out to Home Hardware when I needed nails or electrical tape. I rented an ebike and rode to York. I cycled to the airport for an early morning flight, and back from the airport after a late night arrival.
By far and away my happiest cycling moments of the season were with Oliver: with Herculean effort he willed himself to become a cyclist this summer, and after only a week we were cycling to the Charlottetown Farmers’ Market every week. There are few greater memories I have this year than of cycling along the Confederation Trail with Oliver, having a chat, and waving at the people we passed with a happy hello.
Somewhere in there something snapped in me, and I transitioned from “I’ll do this because it’s the only just thing to do in a climate crisis” to “I really (really) love this.” Cycling stopped being a chore and became a joy.
Which is why it was especially hard to lower my bicycle and its trailer into the basement tonight and close out the 2019 cycling season.
I’ll be counting the days to May 1, 2020.