Five reasons you should try winter cycling -- this winter!

When I was growing up, bicycle riding was strictly a fair-weather activity. As soon as the weather turned cool and the snow began to fall, the bikes were stored in the garage, appearing again only after the snow had disappeared in the spring. In southern Saskatchewan, where winter began in late October and continued well into April, this meant bike riding season lasted only six or seven months.

Fast forward a number of years: I started working in downtown Edmonton. Parking was free at my workplace, so like most commuters, I drove downtown every day. And every day, I saw people on bikes. I was envious – they seemed to be having such a good time and were getting some good exercise, while I sat behind the wheel, feeling the middle-age spread gaining ground.

That winter was unusually mild, so after a few weeks of wistfully watching other bicycle commuters, I decided to give it a try. I didn’t buy any special clothing; I already had some water resistant running pants and a warm jacket. At this point in my life I didn’t even own a bike; the plan was to buy one in the spring. But in the backyard there was an old knobby-tired mountain bike that the boys had rejected, so I pulled that out, adjusted the saddle to a comfortable height, attached a couple of lights and a front basket, pumped up the tires and hopped on.

Since that first winter commute in  February, 2012, I haven’t looked back. I began by riding only on the “nice days.” But my definition of a nice day has changed. Minus 30 now means I cover my face with a balaclava, add another layer or two under my coat, and and stick some hand warmers in the mittens.

Contrary to what you might think, I am not some super-athlete or bad-ass biker girl type.  I’m just an ordinary person who has discovered what I believe is the best way to get to work – all year round.

If you already commute to work by bike during the warmer months -- or even if you don’t -- I heartily recommend you try winter bicycle commuting. Here’s why:

1)   It is cheaper than driving or taking transit

This is especially true if you live close (5 km or less) to your destination. Starting your car and driving such a short distance is possibly crazier than riding a bike during the winter. Add in the cost of parking, and it can become outrageous. Even taking transit is not cheap. And you have to stand around at bus stops, feeling the biting wind and nippy air.  

If you already own a bike and mittens, a hat, boots and a coat, cycling to work is free. Depending on your parking situation, you might have to buy a good-quality lock. But you should have one anyway, unless you want to ensure that you won’t have a bike the next time you want to ride.

2)  It is more fun than driving

Figuring out the best route to take. Learning how to navigate a sketchy patch of road. Sailing along a cleared shared-use pathway. Watching winter-white hares cross your path. Taking in the Christmas lights on the houses as you ride by. The challenges, thrills and quiet pleasures are yours for the taking.

 3)  You will feel good about yourself (and your work)

 An article in Harvard Business Review reports that minor successes can help workers feel good about their tasks, to the point that their performance improves. 

You can’t help but be encouraged and uplifted after your successful ride to work. And there is nothing like doing something that many people consider daring or extreme to make you feel brave and accomplished as well.

Even on the coldest days, or days when the riding conditions are not ideal, the fact that you persevered and made it will give you a boost. You will start the work day feeling successful, strong and capable of anything.

And after work, instead of a ride on a dreary bus or sitting in the car, creeping along, you can repeat the adventure.  

4)   It’s good for your mental health

The seemingly sunless days closing in on us can make us feel dark and down at times. It’s no secret that many of us hate winter and simply try to survive it, looking forward to the beach vacation and then spring. But recent research by University of Vermont psychology professor, Kelly Rohan, reveals that a more effective and desirable way to combat the winter blues is to find winter activities that you can enjoy and commit to doing them regularly.

Why not combine this with your need to get to work, riding your bike, instead of sitting in the car or on the bus, killing two birds with one stone? It has worked for me!   

5) It’s good for your physical health

It's no news that exercise is always good for you, but it seems that exercising outdoors in winter is even better. According to Dr. Dean Kreillaars, University of Manitoba professor and exercise physiologist, “winter’s varied surfaces, extra clothing and temperature all play a role in challenging people’s bodies in ways unique to the season.” The result is that we expend more energy in winter than we would in warmer weather to do the same work.

Incidentally, Kreillaars echoes Rohan’s discovery about the mental health benefits, saying, “When people get outside we know their mood tends to be better.”

Cycling is obviously not the only way to get outdoor exercise in the winter, or even the first thing that comes to mind when we consider winter activities. But you have to go to work, or to school, or wherever you go every day anyway, right? Why not do it on your bike and add that bit of extra, ramped-up winter exercise to your daily routine?

Of course, I know winter cycling might not be for everybody. 

But almost everyone enjoys riding a bike. 

Almost everyone has to go somewhere, at some time. Even in the winter.

In the words of the old adage, 

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” 

I have a feeling that once you’ve tried it, you won’t knock it!

Poor Susan McNab

Every day as I ride my bicycle to work, I see motorists commit traffic infractions. Speeding is just normal, it seems. And at virtually every intersection I see one or two vehicles zip through as the light is changing from amber to red -- and often after it has already changed.

That's why I'm glad the city has increased the number of intersection cameras. 

But poor Susan McNab!

While taking her daughter to a dance recital in Edmonton, she was, in her own words, so focused on finding her destination that she ended up driving well over the speed limit through two intersections on 170 Street and earned herself not one, but two, speeding tickets.

She believes that two tickets 10 seconds apart is unreasonable and thinks she should not have to pay the second ticket.

Presumably, then, it is reasonable to drive 72 and 74 kph in a 60 kph zone?

And it is also reasonable to not pay attention to speed limits when driving?

Where was her attention? On her GPS? Her paper map? Google Maps on her phone?

Not on the road, at any rate.

Anyone who has driven this stretch of 170 Street knows that it is absurd to think the speed limit would be any more than 60 kph. This is a busy city street, not a freeway.

As Garry Shimko, the executive director of the city’s office of traffic safety says, "Each intersection is a high-risk intersection, so the point … is that we're trying to protect people at those locations because we don't want the crashes to happen."

And incidentally, if McNab was uncertain about her destination, how could whizzing along at more than 70 kph help?

I suggest that Susan McNab acknowledge the fact that she behaved carelessly on this occasion, pay her tickets, and chalk it up as a lesson learned. She should also count herself lucky that her careless driving did not result in a collision.

And when she is in the market for a new car, maybe she should consider one with cruise control!

Just don't call me late for supper

Presumably, this sign also includes Chris Bruntlett!

Just Don’t Call Me Late for Supper!

Chris Bruntlett is a pretty good guy. If you don’t believe me, just ask him. He’ll tell you!

To be honest, I don’t know him. I’ve just read a few of his blog posts, one of which is called “I Am Not a Cyclist.” I’ve read it through a couple of times, and I’m still not quite sure what he is trying to say.

I do know that he favours extreme language. He despises being called “a cyclist.”

He always does this and he never does that, this meaning all the good things “cyclists” fail to do and that meaning the bad things “cyclists” inevitably do.

He believes that his polite, dignified behaviour makes him a minority (I’m guessing a minority of one) and sets him apart as something other than a “cyclist.”

Clearly, I am not as good a person as Mr. Bruntlett, but that doesn’t make me feel too bad, since I am pretty sure no one else is either.

And I don’t mind if people call me a cyclist. A cyclist, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary (as well as every other dictionary I consulted) simply means “a person who rides a bicycle.” By definition, as soon as you hop on a bike and begin to pedal, you are a cyclist. Like it or not.

Mr. Bruntlett attempts an analogy: if he uses a vacuum cleaner, it doesn’t make him a janitor. If he flosses his teeth, people won’t call him a dental hygienist. But this is a flawed analogy; the terms “janitor” and “dental hygienist” have specific definitions. (In case you are wondering, those definitions are not “a person who uses a vacuum cleaner” and “a person who flosses his or her teeth”!)

Many monikers have stereotypes. Think of “librarian.” Chances are you pictured a slim woman with her hair pulled back and wearing glasses. Engineer – good at math; terrible at English. What about “lawyer”? Can you imagine how absurd it would be if everyone who didn’t like the traditional stereotypes conjured up by their job titles, for example, refused to let people call them that?

Cyclist happens to be the universally accepted English-language name for people who ride bicycles. The fact that it has certain connotations, some of which might be negative, doesn’t mean we can deny that this is what we are and demand that people stop referring to us by this name.

It’s almost as if Mr. Bruntlett fancies himself royalty or at least someone entitled to special treatment.

Hmm, now that I think about it, it seems like he does. He appears to think that because his behaviour while perched atop a bicycle seat is so exemplary, he deserves to be called by a special name, possibly “someone who often uses a bicycle.” But even his bike is not just any bicycle. No, his is a bicycle that reflects his personality and style. And the casual observer can probably distinguish him from other people who often use bicycles by the fact that he is riding with grace, elegance and dignity, while others around him occasionally ride fast or forget to signal or hop on the sidewalk for a meter or two to avoid a hazardous situation.

It seems I for one would make Bruntlett’s blacklist on a number of counts.

First of all, I like to ride fast. My bike is not only a way to get from Point A to Point B, but it is a fitness tool. By working hard and riding fast when I have the chance, I maximize the exercise benefits of bicycle commuting or running errands by bike. As a result, I am strong and fit and riding fast comes naturally. Riding fast does not preclude riding carefully, and when it’s necessary I slow down, but my preference is to go at a good clip and give myself a bit of a workout.

This leads to the second thing: sometimes I work up a sweat. It’s hard not to when the temperature is 28C and my cadence is 80-90 rpms. Bad, bad, bad. Sweat is bad. Hmm... funny how this recent article about exercise seems to say that working up a sweat is desirable.

Thirdly, I ride my bike almost everywhere, all year round. This means it is not always practical to simply hop on wearing nothing but my work outfit. If it’s raining, I wear my MEC (ooh, another bad word, according toMr. Bruntlett) Adanac waterproof tights over my regular tights or work pants. Sometimes I pack my skirt instead of wearing it, to keep it clean and dry. When I am going for a long ride in the country or in the River Valley, I often clad myself in “cycle wear” – spandex jersey and padded shorts. Even – horror of horrors – clip-in shoes. For me, comfort rules, even if being comfortable means I look like a cyclist.

Fourth on my list of Bruntlett no-nos: I usually wear a helmet. I don’t exactly make a practice of falling, but I know it is a possibility. Once last September, before I had my studded tires on my bike, I rounded a corner, slid on a patch of hidden ice and was on the ground before I knew what had happened. I hit my head and was shaken-up but not injured, thanks to my helmet.

Wow, lots of negatives, eh? Here is the fifth: in the winter, when I ride to work in the dark, I wear a reflective sash over my winter coat. Why not? It didn’t cost me much, it is easy to slip on, and it adds to my visibility. Of course I have lights as well, but I figure the extra stripe of reflective material doesn’t hurt.

Onto number six: I frequently share the road with motor vehicles. This is not my preference, but in Edmonton, it is often a necessity. The other option might be to ride on the sidewalk, and guess what? Number seven: I do that occasionally too,  for example, when the road on a marked bicycle route has not been cleared of ice and snow.

It makes me sad that someone like Chris Bruntlett, who obviously considers himself a leader in the "someone who sometimes rides a bicycle" realm, is spouting off about something so trivial. Rather than encouraging people to ride and talking about the benefits of riding, here he is, like a nine year old on the playground, complaining that people call him names he doesn't like.

I think I should score some points with nay-sayers for being polite, cheerful and friendly when I ride. I try to make eye contact with drivers and give them a grateful nod or wave when they yield to me. I say good morning to my fellow people who ride bicycles and ring my bell when passing pedestrians.

But I am fully cognizant of the fact that no matter how I feel about myself, when I’m riding a bike, I am and always will be a cyclist. You can call me a biker; you can call me a bicycle commuter; you can call me a cyclist. I don’t really care. Just don’t call me late for supper! Because, with the amount of riding I do and the number of calories I burn, I am usually ravenously hungry at about 6:00 PM.

Welcoming another bike (or two) to the fold...

Folding bikes, of course. 

Since my Dahon Vitesse, although beautiful and a dream to ride, is not suitable for taking on an airplane as a piece of regular checked luggage, I had to start again with my search. This time we decided to go the secondhand route, so we searched Kijiji. By this time, Hubby was convinced that folding bikes were a good idea, so we ended up buying two older Dahon bikes with the sixteen inch wheels. 





Mine, which I have christened "Kleine Fiets," is made of gleaming stainless steel and folds to an unbelievably small size. It came with its own softside carry case. Once I got used to the tiny wheels, it was surprisingly comfortable and fast. One problem, though -- the Sturmey Archer 3-speed internal hub isn't working quite right. I can't shift into the lowest gear. But for riding around town, without any significant hills, it was just fine with only the two gears. I tested it on a 10 km ride and even rode up the little -- but very steep -- hill on the trail behind our house. No problem!

From looking at photos online, we figure this is one of the very early Dahons, from the 1980s.

The other is also a Dahon, subtitled Piccolo, and it is considerably newer. It doesn't have the angled bar that is on the older model and it doesn't fold quite as compactly. Like the older one, it has the Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub. I rode it over the same 10 km route, and found it pretty much the same as the other bike, except that I could shift into all three gears on this one.






So, we were pretty pleased with our finds. For less than $300, we had two folding bikes that rode well and could fit into standard suitcases.

London, here we come. 













But. Of course, there's a but. We decided to see whether we could get the gears fixed on the older bike. So, we rode to a DIY bike shop, which shall remain nameless. My understanding of this place was that there would be people there who would show us how to fix the bike. However, when I got there, the super-zealous guy said, "Wow, this is a beautiful bike!" He popped it up on a stand and started working on it. Next thing I knew, the gears were in worse shape than before. I thanked him, paid the minuscule fee and left. The bike was still rideable, but the gears were harder to shift than before and I still had only the two gears.

Oh well, I thought. It'll be OK. But then when we were trying to decide which suitcases to use, Hubby took the back rack and fenders off the Piccolo 9to make it smaller), and when he reassembled everything, something was wrong with the rear wheel. Oops!

Just proves the truth of one of my favourite sayings: if it's not broken, don't fix it.

Know when to fold 'em -- bikes, that is

Somewhere along the way, I developed a bit of an obsession with folding bikes. 

The first time I ever remember seeing one was in the late 1990s, when my next door neighbour Beverley, in Richmond, BC, came home from a garage sale with one. Thrilled with her find, she proudly showed me how it could fold in half and easily fit in their RV.  

I thought it was pretty cool, and because Beverley was older and at a different stage of life, I thought, “Yeah, maybe I’d like one of those someday,” and then promptly forgot about it.

Folding bikes came to my attention again when I visited London for the first time in April of 2015. I made extensive use of the cycle hire system, in which you pay 2 GBP for a 24-hour period and use a bike for half an hour at a time, as often as you want, at no extra charge. For me, this was simply marvelous, and I rode every day of my stay – to Buckingham Palace, to the British Museum, across Tower Bridge, to Trafalgar Square, to Regent’s Park and Hyde Park, and many more places. I did end up paying a little extra because twice I went over the half-hour limit, but even so, it was a super deal.

As I rode, I spotted people on folding bikes. Lots of people. I would see them exit the underground, break open their bikes and start riding. They rode fast, as fast as people on regular bikes. Many had panniers which presumably carried all they needed for a day at work. It was intriguing, and again, I thought that was pretty cool.

When I ended up beside a folding-bike rider at a red light, I asked him how he liked it. He replied that he loved it, adding that he used to use the cycle hire bikes, too, but when he would arrive at Paddington Station in the mornings, there would often be no bikes available, so he’d have to walk to the next cycle dock, hoping to find a bike. After a few times of doing this, he decided to buy a folder, and he was glad he did.

Once again, the thought crossed my mind: I’d like to own a folding bike someday.

The next winter, one morning as I rode my full-sized, studded-tired bike to work, I spotted a woman flying out of her yard in the Glenora neighbourhood -- on a folding bike. She sailed along over the ice and snow, that typical happy-bike-rider look on her face. Although I had previously felt rather special just for bicycle commuting throughout the winter, the sight of this woman riding in an Edmonton winter on her tiny-wheeled folder made me feel quite ordinary and boring. This time I felt more determined than ever: someday, I vowed, I too will own a folding bike.

Fast forward to the summer of 2017. I tentatively mentioned to Hubby that I was sort of, just a wee bit, interested in owning a folding bike. He likes cycling, too, but he doesn't quite get the n+1 rule, so I wasn't sure what he would say. But to my surprise, he was quite enthusiastic. I showed him the one I had in mind -- the Dahon Vitesse i7, with seven speeds and internal gearing (another thing I am a bit obsessed with, by the way.) He liked it, and it was on sale at Revolution Cycle, so he encouraged me to buy it online and we would pick it up the next day.

I love it! It is a dream to ride, and as mentioned in my post about Castor, it even rides nicely on gravel roads. BUT -- it turns out it is too big to take with us on an international flight. Bummer. I guess that means I have to try to find a different folding bike, right?

Riding near Castor

Never heard of Castor, Alberta? Me either, until a short while ago. Turns out it is a charming small town halfway between Macklin, Sask., and Red Deer.

A couple of weeks ago, Oldest Son wanted to ride from Macklin to Castor, so I decided to join him for part of the ride. I rode about 65 km before I felt too saddle-sore to continue. He is like the Energizer Bunny; he keeps going and going, but I find I need a break after about 60 K.

Hubby and I drove down to Castor on Friday evening and with a minimum of difficulty found the campground. It is right on the highway, but shielded by a row of trees and there is no sign, so we missed the turn the first time around.

After selecting our campsite, Hubby told me I should disappear for an hour or so. Why? He likes me to believe that setting up the tent trailer is a breeze, so if I am not around while he does it I will never know the truth. Something like that.

So I took out my Dahon Vitesse folding bike and went for a ride. The campground is situated south of the highway, so I started my tour of the town on the same side. The town soon ran out, however, and I ended up on a gravel country road.

 Curious to know how the 20" wheels on the folding bike would handle the gravel, I decided to forge ahead. It was just fine. I rode a kilometer or so along this road, before deciding it was a bit boring and turning around. I did manage to nicely spook some cattle that were grazing along the road. They were not concerned about the truck that went past, but when I came along, they took off.

Leaving this area behind, I crossed the highway and entered the main part of town. I was greeted by a sign with a beaver on it, and right next to it, the beaver itself.

I began by riding straight north, through the town and into the countryside. Here it was peaceful and quite beautiful, with gently rolling hills and patches of gold and green.

But I soon hit gravel again, and although I had proven that the Vitesse was up for the challenge, I definitely prefer smooth riding, so I turned around and headed into the town, which as I said before, is totally charming. One of the most charming sights to me -- bikes standing, unlocked, in many of the front yards. I didn't see anyone actually riding, but clearly people do ride, and not only that, they don't fear their bikes being stolen.

I rode past the historical hospital site, Our Lady of the Rosary, built in 1911, still in use as a continuing care centre.

 

And of course, there's the Cosmopolitan Hotel and the obligatory small prairie town Chinese restaurant, the Shangri-La.

And I love what they've done with the old Roman aqueduct.

Kidding aside, it really is a lovely little town. 

On Saturday, after a somewhat noisy night, we set off for Macklin, about 1 1/2 hr drive east. Incidentally, it is home to a giant bone, a symbol of the game of Bunnock, which was introduced to Canada by Russian/German immigrants. We saw the bone -- definitely over-rated!

Once there, we hopped on our bikes and rode west. It was a good ride -- lots of rolling hills and pretty scenery. 

 

High points - literal and figurative

Riding up a hill in Sturgeon County and feeling on top of the world...

Riding to the library to drop off some books and seeing a full bike rack...

riding near Nordegg

 On August 12, together with my oldest son, I rode from Nordegg to Cline River. It was a perfect day - hot but cloudy enough that the sun wasn't too intense. I tried out my sunblock sleeves, a new purchase from MEC, and they did the trick in preventing sunburn.

I rode my MEC Mixed Tape bike -- 7-speed internal hub, and was quite impressed with how well it handled the hills. 

I actually began the day by riding about 30 km from our home to Highway 770 in the morning. Hubby picked me up and we drove down to the Goldeye Campground where we met Oldest Son.

Not only was it cloudy, but it was also hazy with smoke from a distant fire or two (yes, I am totally giving away my age!) When I got home and looked at the photos I'd taken, I was surprised at how much the smoke covered the mountains.

Lake Abraham is beautiful. Because it was a hot day, there were lots of people enjoying the cool water, but it is still so unspoiled and peaceful.

As we were riding, a male deer came out onto the road right in front of us. I wanted to get a pic, but someone drove by and honked to scare the deer away. This bear, however, was cooperative and didn't move! I wondered if the hat was all that remained of his latest victim.

our stopping point - the David Thompson Resort

This was the end of our ride -- the David Thompson Resort. I'm afraid Thompson's rest might be less than peaceful if he knows that this place is named after him, but maybe the fact that he is remembered is enough?

add some beauty to life

“I'd like to add some beauty to life," said Anne dreamily. "I don't exactly want to make people KNOW more... though I know that IS the noblest ambition... but I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me... to have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn't been born.”

― L.M. Montgomery, Anne's House of Dreams

I didn't read the Anne of Green Gables series until I was an adult and pregnant with my second child. I loved those books, and as soon as I met Anne I recognized a kindred spirit. 

And when I read the above words, I had that feeling you get when you wish you would have said it first. 

Travelling by bike offers opportunities to stop along the way and add some joy and happiness to people's lives. Of course, this is not one-sided -- those people usually do exactly the same for me.

Because I commute to work, I cover approximately the same route at approximately the same time every day. As a result, I see some people quite regularly, walking, riding a bike, or waiting for a bus. Sometimes these people fail to appear and I experience a fleeting curiosity about what happened -- did they change jobs, move away from the area, start driving to work, take a holiday? The curiosity comes and goes and I quickly forget about them.

One person, however, stands out as a little different. This is an older lady whom I think of as Princess Grace. She reminds me of Grace Kelly. Her hair is in that classic, impeccable 1950s bob; she carries herself regally, and she wears the most beautiful scarves. 

A few years ago I would see her every day after work as she ventured out of her care home (I could see her call button around her neck) for a slow, painstakingly careful stroll to the end of the block and back. We always exchanged smiles and greetings. 

One day when I arrived at my parking spot and began unpacking my bike, she didn't appear. I dawdled a little, but in the end I had to load the bike into the back of the van and drive away. This time I experienced more than fleeting curiosity; I was slightly worried. Where was she? Was she sick? In the hospital? Perhaps even...

I told myself that this was ridiculous. First of all, I didn't even know her, not really. Secondly, she was probably just fine.  I would probably see her the next day -- maybe she just took her walk later than usual this one time. 

But, no, I didn't see her the next day. In fact, I didn't see her again for months, perhaps even a year. I thought of her from time to time. I even told my ESL class about her when we were studying modals of possibility (might, could, may.) The students, practicing these verbs, offered many possible explanations for her sudden disappearance. None was completely satisfactory.

I didn't forget her. I didn't think about her every day, but occasionally when I arrived at my parking spot, I would wonder...

And then one day, I took a slightly different route back to the van. Instead of riding on the main street, I took a side street, and there she was, wearing a lovely scarf (Hermes?) and walking as elegantly as ever. In astonishment, I stopped my bike and said hello. Her face lit up and she explained that she was taking longer walks now and she started a little earlier, so that by the time I arrived at my parking spot, she had already passed. We had a nice little chat and I rode to my van with a cheerful heart.

That was about two years ago.  Since then, I haven't seen her very often, but just this week I met up with her again. I stopped to say hello and she immediately smiled and said, "It's so nice to see you again." Of course, the feeling was mutual and I told her so. And I thought of Anne and her desire to add some beauty to the lives of others.

As we ride our bikes, taking life at a slower pace than so many people around us, we have the chance to do just that. 

Share your stories!

Lilac Lane

One of my favourite spots north of town is what I call Lilac Lane -- farm fields planted with a border of lilacs. Last year I missed seeing the lilacs; you have to get the timing just right. But today I saw them in all their glory. 

It was a gorgeous day for a ride, so I headed up the Campsite Road hills and on over to Lilac Lane. Close to this spot is a semi-hidden range road that is like a little roller coaster. I love to ride up and down the hills until I reach the highest point, and then comes the reward -- I can turn around and ride down (with a few ups along the way) to the bottom. It's a great workout with a beautiful view. One day on this road I spotted a fox. Today a deer ran across the road a few hundred meters in front of me.

Today I also ventured onto an unpaved road. I was on my commuter bike, so the tires are a little fatter than the road bike tires, so I thought I'd give it a try. The road was not exactly gravel, but a sort of hard packed dirt and gravel mix, and the riding was fine. This was another pretty ride with a couple of decent climbs.

Get in the bike lane!

It had to happen sooner or later. When I ride to work on 102 Avenue (07:30ish), rather than crossing the street twice (a potentially dangerous activity for Edmontonians) and bumping along riding on the  shared pathway on the north side of the avenue, I usually take the lane and ride on the road. At this time of the day, as at other times of the day when I have ridden on this road, there is not much traffic. Little enough that one lane for the motor vehicles is sufficient, so why not ride my bike in the other lane? Makes sense to me.

But I felt deep down inside that I was being bad -- I mean, really, the city spent all that money and time to make that cute shared pathway on the north side and I'm not using it? Bad girl!

The person who yelled at me today agreed. He was in the one car that was heading west on 102 Avenue. There were no eastbound cars at that time. In other words, except for a single vehicle and my bike, the 4-lane road was empty. But this helpful fellow thought he should offer me some advice. "Get in the bike lane!" he screamed as he passed.

You know what? I'd be happy to get in the bike lane. Only one problem. There is no bike lane.

When the new bridge was being built, I heard rumours that after construction was finished there would be bike lanes on 102 Avenue. Needless to say, I was looking forward to them. But alas, construction is finished and what cyclists have is not bike lanes, but a shared pathway. On the wrong side of the road for my commute. 

Not only that, but the shared pathway has bumps. At every intersection, where the sidewalk material meets asphalt, there is a big bump. When it rains and during the spring thaw, these same spots boast large puddles. 

And one more thing: every intersection of the shared pathway has little yield signs directed at cyclists. This means that if there should be a collision between a cyclist and a motorist, there's a good chance the cyclist could be found at fault because she didn't yield. 

All these things combined mean that I prefer to ride on the road. No crossing the street unnecessarily, no bumps, no little yield signs. And oh yes, no need to ride around vehicles stopped across the crosswalks.

I will admit that in the winter the shared pathway was not so bad. The city usually kept it clear of snow. (Well, except for when we had big snowfalls.) It felt safer to ride separated from traffic even if it meant waiting to cross the street twice. 

But when there is no snow or ice on the ground? No question in my mind but that riding on the road is the way to go.