Friday, December 30, 2022

Another year ends

 Seven degrees Celsius at seven o'clock this morning. 

22 years into the century, and there are many mysteries. Why are we so poorly behaved? Who would have ever thought that many who worshipped George Washington for his honesty, would shrug truth into irrelevance, without so much as a pause, or second thought. It boggles my mind.

The weather is another head-scratcher.

SEVEN DEGREES!!! It's December 30th for heaven's sake. Buffalo, a mere 100 kilometres south of Toronto, has suffered an unprecedented winter storm. In a city that gets more than its fair share of snow, where people know how to cope with winter weather better than most, more than 40 people have lost their lives as a direct result of the storm that paralyzed the city. It boggles my mind.

As I write this, it's now 10 degrees here, headed to eleven degrees.

Yes, you are correct! I did not loop the P2 loop this morning. It was truly a joy to ride outdoors: south to Mel Lastman Square, west through the cemetery to Senlac, on through the side streets to Bathurst, north to the Finch corridor path, east to Yonge, and south back home. In all 8.5 thoroughly enjoyable kilometres.

I bundled up (3 layers, including a top waterproof one; mitts; ear warmer band; neck thingy). IT WAS BALMY when I left the garage. Warmer outside than in the indoor parking. I had to lower some zippers. Sheesh!

Look at this.

Yes, we did get a blizzard while the rest of Ontario, Quebec and New York was getting slammed with snow.

This is all that remains. Many Torontonians prayed for the snow so we could have a white Christmas. Evidently we prayed a little too much. We owe our neighbours a heartfelt apology. 

In truth, praying for a white Christmas is not the cause of all this unprecedented pain and grief. It's global warming. At least that's what I think. I could be wrong. But why risk life on earth when we could act to become carbon neutral and substantially address the threat of a global catastrophe?

My very best wishes to my family, dear friends, and dear readers. Let's all hope and pray that we right the course and sail to better times.

Friday, December 16, 2022

The P2 Loop

 Have you ever ridden a bike 9.6 kilometres in a garage?

It's a very different experience from riding outdoors, that's obvious. I know.

The thing is, that when you do anything very often, you come to appreciate the experience more deeply. Even when the thing you are doing seems dull and completely uninviting. Like riding a bicycle in a garage.

Repetition and focus are the key factors, but there are others that distinguish riding in a garage from riding outdoors. Each experience has features that satisfy.

Outdoors, there is a rich and varied soundscape. Cars and traffic, dogs that bark close by or in the distance. Vehicles approaching with that distinct whirring of tires on pavement. Pedestrians walking in pairs chatting. Their conversation drifts in from completely indistinct to just a very few words that make it to your brain, and the words instantly drift away into oblivion. Jets glide by sounding like they are tearing a strip out of the sky. Sirens scream and honk aggressively, and recede, eventually to be replaced by the soft airflow of an approaching car, or the rustle of leaves in a breeze. In a quiet moment the bike intrudes. The click of a shift, the faint noise of the thin hard tires on the pavement, the clunk, clunk, clunk of seams in the sidewalk. The slope of the landscape, sometimes letting you glide effortlessly, and inevitably reclaiming that gift as you lose your momentum, hear your breathing, and pull on the bars to reclaim that altitude. The bell speaking to pedestrians. Or to shifty squirrels. The ride repeats perhaps once a week, because there are alternate routes. And in a single route, there are few repetitions. Not none, but precious few.

Outdoors, even in an uninspiring place, like a busy street, or a parking lot, a million details compete for attention. Traffic and pedestrian flow. Potholes. Linear gaps and lines made by uneven seams or slabs that run parallel to the line of travel and light up your brain as your tires threaten to drift into their potent trap and jerk your bike off-balance. The sky in its infinite glory. Sunshine warming your body. A sky that is constantly shifting, familiar, yet never the same. Clouds, unobscured blue sky, fog, mist, light rain, grey featureless swaths of endless boredom. Dark mid-day skies, heavy with the threat of rain, as the leaves on their branches show their undersides in the breeze. You expect thunder at any moment, and you are wary of lightning. Yes, there is risk, but generally I  see it coming in plenty of time to make other plans. So far.

Indoors, each loop is 0.16 of a kilometre. There are 60 loops in a 34 minute ride, timed on my watch, each loop taking 34 seconds. 9.6 kilometres. It's much more science than it is art. That's not to say that it's artless. What you see seems always the same, but there are differences. There are also subtle differences. The parking spaces seem always home to the same car. But there is a cycle of change, ever so slow, yet it's there. When someone gets a new car, you notice. Then there are two types of parkers: nose-in, and nose-out. I have a theory that people who like what their car looks like tend to back in to their spots. They are nose-outers. When a consistent nose-outer parks nose-in, you notice. 

Indoors, the light is white, flat, and constant through the loop, yet it also varies. There are bright spots, usually reflections of the LED ceiling tube-lights in the eight semi-circular convex mirrors that dot the route, helping you see around corners. But also glinting off the surface of cleaner cars. My flashing headlight pulses off cars at certain angles. There are patterns. patterns in the concrete floor, but more importantly, patterns of behaviour. People are fairly consistent. If I ride between seven and seven-thirty a.m., the comings and goings I see are very different than if I ride from eight-thirty to nine. Usually I am looping from 7:15 to 7:45. I get to know the 'regulars'. With some I exchange a greeting. Others have their eyes on their phones.

Indoors, safety is as important as ever. People don't expect a cyclist in their garage. My bike is like a ghost, it only makes noise in one place, where the floor slopes towards the corner. That's where I hit maximum speed. The tires make an exciting whirring, almost whining sound in that curve. Otherwise I am so silent, it is up to me to avoid the comers and goers. I listen to jazz streaming on my AirPods. I keep the volume very low because ambient noise is key to avoiding cars and people. I can hear as soon as a car is in motion, either coming in, or leaving. Often even when the car is in motion on P1 or P3. My headlight and tail lights help the drivers see me. Kids often chatter, which is good because they sometimes run, weaving their way from the elevator lobby to the family car. Mostly people are as silent as my bike. I am always listening, always watching. There are cues. Is the door to the elevator lobby closing? Is there movement in the big corner mirror? Did a car door close? Did an engine start? If a car just parked on P1, where are the people as they make their way to the elevator? Every 34 seconds the pattern repeats, check the door, check the mirror, check the path through the cars, check the mirror, check the door... I am the alien, it's all on me, I yield to all comers and goers.

The P2 loop is about more than exercise. I love to ride. When the weather makes riding outdoors impractical, I loop on P2. The repeating patterns, the need to read the cues, the constant focus, the aural backdrop of jazz playing softly, the occasional greeting, smile, or wave, the patterns on the floor as I follow the same path that avoids oncoming cars and drain covers (they make a horrible clank that reverberates jarringly in the space).

All of this adds up to an ethereal, rarified, calm, and focused experience, very different from riding outdoors. It brings its own brand of joy that I have grown to appreciate.

That's why I decided to share it here.

Today was my 76th P2 loop.  730 kilometres of indoor life, on two wheels.

Friday, December 2, 2022

On the brink, the cusp, the verge...


 I mentioned that Atomic Habits has altered the way I live my life.

One of the tips I got from James Clear is to build structures around your desired habits that help to make those habits a reliable part of your daily routine.

One of the structures that James recommends is a "habit scorecard". It's really simple. You make a list of the activities you want to include in your daily life. My list is, of course, in a spreadsheet.

I started tracking my daily activities on September 29 last year.

When I do the thing that I feel ought to be part of my daily routine, I get an "X" in that activity's pigeonhole for that day. I never cheat. I never exagerate.

One column is "Move - walk, ride, swim". If I walk the pigeonhole gets a "W". If I ride my bike, it's an "R". Swims are rare.

When I ride in the underground garage doing the P2 loop, the pigeonhole gets a "P2".

In March of this year when my morning rides went from the garage to the great outdoors, I was able to use the activity app on my iPhone to track my rides. From that point on I not only noted the fact that I had ridden, I noted the distance.

In that way, in the early morning on November 11, I knew the exact moment and the exact place where I reached 1,000 kms.

I then went back in time (in my spreadsheet) to February 2, of this year. That was when I determined that 60 P2 loops adds up to 9.6 kms. I then added those kilometres.

My early morning rides, as I write this, amount to not less than 1,483.68 kms. 

That's a lot of kilometres. All in under a year.

If I stick to my routine, Monday I will cross the 1,500 kilometre line.

Wow! 

A bunch of little steps can really add up to something BIG! Quicker than you think!!

The copyright in all text and photographs, except as noted, belongs to David Masse.