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!

using music to teach ESL

This is hardly original with me, but I have a feeling every ESL instructor who tries it feels the same way I do -- amazed and thrilled at what great teaching tools popular songs can be.

In recent months I have used songs of various types for teaching pronunciation, parts of speech, vocabulary, grammar, and more.

Last week it was I've Never Been to Spain, by Three Dog Night, for practice with the present perfect tense and compound sentences.


On Thursday we listened to the song and discussed the use of the present perfect. Then  on Monday, we listened again and I gave a writing assignment: Write your own "I've never been to..., but I ..." sentence, and go on to explain a little bit about it. 

My example was, "I've never been to Denmark, but I like to play with Lego." I reminisced about my childhood Lego collection, the special chest of drawers my dad built to store it, and the endless hours I spent building castles and houses, people and cars. I  told about how sorry I was that my parents sold the Lego when they sold their house. My own sons and their love for Lego came next, followed by a lesson learned: don't sell the Lego!

Some of my students are very well educated and literate, so they wrote at length. Others wrote 3 or 4 sentences. But all the compositions were superb, each one unique. One student has never been to India, but she loves Indian food; while one of the men has never been to Italy but loves Italian food and told the story of taking his girlfriend -- now his wife -- to an Italian restaurant on their first date.


All in all, it was a highly successful set of lessons based on a song from my youth. 

Afterwards, however, I realized that I had missed a great opportunity: 

I've never been to Finland, but I ride my bike in winter!

Spring ahead?

This week has not given me much hope that spring is ahead any time soon, in spite of the approaching time change.

Monday morning: -25 C, -30 wind chill.
Tuesday morning: snow -- enough that I decided to bus into the city.
This morning: -20 C, -26 wind chill.

On Monday I rode from Crestwood, but today I figured I could handle the longer ride, so I parked at my normal spot. I saw S., the woman I met a couple of weeks ago as she came up out of the River Valley. She was riding west on the 100 Avenue shared pathway, and did she ever look COLD! I was still toasty warm at that time, but by the time I reached the Victoria Park Boulevard bike lane, I, too, was feeling it.

Fortunately as I rode along this lane, something occurred to distract me from my cold fingers. I grew up on a fairly busy street in the booming prairie metropolis of Swift Current, Sask., and learned at a young age not to open a car door into a lane of traffic. Apparently not all City of Edmonton employees had moms who taught them that lesson. Today, not only was a city truck completely blocking the bike lane, but the door was open, blocking most of the vehicle lane as well. I had to ride around it, hoping no cars were approaching from the opposite direction. Meanwhile, the worker had his head deep in the truck and was completely oblivious to the fact that I was passing. Oh well, I guess I should be glad the city employees were out there working. Presumably they are making our lives better.

I saw two other cyclists along 100 Avenue and plenty of tire tracks in the fresh snow. It always makes me happy to see those, especially when I recognize other "Table Top" tires in the mix.

Today was our second last day of class before a one-week break. Tomorrow is another Global Cooking day -- stuffed tilapia is on the menu -- so we discussed the recipe. I also used a listening exercise on how fish helps our brains. We all decided that this is the secret weapon of Mr Kim from Korea -- he eats fish almost every day, and at 72 he is still going strong, learning English and thinking like mad!

My trip back to the car after work was quite a bit more comfortable -- the temperature was about -15, so my hands stayed nice and cozy. I spotted the young girl in a green coat, whom I see every day as she walks home from school. We always exchange a friendly greeting. Ditto the Filippino nannv with two blond schookids and a double stroller.

And as I crossed an intersection where a couple of cars yielded to me at a stop sign, as was their due, the guy in the first car caught my eye, gave me the thumbs-up and raised his hands in applause. That made me smile.

On the shared sidewalk, I also passed an older man riding his bike and looking as happy as could be.

Unfortunately more snow is in the forecast for tomorrow, so it might be another bus day. But supposedly warm weather is on its way, so maybe there is hope for spring after all.

Exercise... or not?

en route to Lake Louise... looking back after a bit of a climb

I've asked myself this question regarding my daily commute: is it exercise? Well, of course, it's exercise, I know that. But does it qualify as a workout? From time to time I think about this, and after reading this post on the Let's Go Ride a Bike blog, I thought about it some more.

This lovely lady lives in Chicago, a city I love. (How's that for alliteration?) I lived in Chicago for about 4 1/2 years. I met my husband there. I ate many a piece of Giordano's pizza and a few Number Ones at Mr. J's. I rode the El daily and walked and cycled along the lake shore. I even swam in Lake Michigan. I never set out chairs to mark my parking spot in the winter, but that was only because I had an assigned parking spot in my apartment's driveway. (I didn't really drive in Chicago, anyway -- maybe twice, but we did have a car.) All in all, it's quite fun to read about this woman's cycling adventures in the Windy City.

But back to the question at hand: is daily bicycle commuting really exercise? 
My short answer is: it depends. 

I've seen a few cycle commuters who proceed at a very leisurely pace; I daresay I could walk faster than they ride. I do walk fast (7.5+ km/hour), but that doesn't mean they are not riding slowly. For these people, I can answer the question with a confident NO. Perhaps what they're doing is better than sitting on a bus or behind a steering wheel, but if you ride like this, don't expect dramatic results when it comes to weight loss or improved fitness.

Most of us don't ride like this, however. I started riding my bike to work late in the winter of 2010. My commute was 7.5 km each way on city streets, punctuated with traffic lights and stop signs. In those early days, I rode a refurbished mountain bike and carried a moderately heavy backpack. I didn't exactly race to work, but like most commuters, I rode at a steady speed and didn't slack. 

After riding every day for six or seven months, in mid-September, I decided to join Oldest Son and Youngest Son cycling the Icefields Parkway from Jasper to Lake Louise -- a distance of about 230 km through the mountains. The plan was to divide the ride over two days. I was slightly apprehensive. I knew I was in decent shape -- in addition to riding every day, Hubby and I also took the dog for a walk every evening, and I had a regular routine of ab exercises and lifting light weights. But this ride would be like nothing I'd ever attempted. I had never ridden more than 20-25 km in a single day. 

cloudy skies -- we had a bit of rain on the second day

Well, I had a very pleasant surprise. Not only did I complete the ride, it was not even all that hard. Yes, there were two or three difficult climbs, but I kept pedaling and downshifting, and didn't have to walk my bike once. The gorgeous scenery and the sense of accomplishment helped to alleviate any pain I might have felt.

I wasn't even particularly tired at the end of the ride. The worst part came on the second day when I couldn't figure out what clothing to wear -- I started out too cold, rapidly became too hot, then was too cold again. It took a while, but once I figured out the proper combination of layers, I was comfy and happy. So, yes, I think I can safely say that my bicycle commute served as training for a much longer and much more challenging ride.

I was especially proud of myself that I stayed in a hostel -- no electricity, no running water!

feels like fall

Back to work on Monday. This weekend marks the end of my two-week break and the beginning of a new session of classes. And this weekend it truly feels like fall. The morning dawned and proceeded with cloudy skies, a steady wind and no sign that the temperature would make it above 20 degrees. It looked like it might rain, in fact. I wasn't sure about riding... But finally at about 11:30, I set off on Milly, north and uphill to Airport Road.

After turning east, I decided to ride to St. Albert and loop back home along Meadowview Road. The wind was from the southeast, strong and steady, so it was a hard 10 km or so to Hogan Road, where I headed south, also against the wind. As I rode I saw a few flocks of Canada geese, also heading south. Their trip is a little longer than mine. At this time of year, the ponds and lakes around here are thick with migrating geese.

I was happy to make a right turn at Meadowview Road, because this meant I was heading west, with the wind more or less behind me. 

These birds, strung out along the barn roof, demanded a second look. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think they were pigeons. 

This road is scenic, but the pavement is like crazy patchwork -- rough bits, smooth bits, loose gravel and everything in between. I sure hope it's true that riding on rough pavement is good for developing bone mass! 

At Highway 44, I headed south again, into the wind, which was at its worst, with nothing to hinder it. I actually switched into the middle ring for this stretch so I could keep a comfortable cadence. I was not sorry to turn right (west) at the Township Road just north of the Yellowhead. 

When I read about yesterday's Stage 3 of the Tour of Alberta, I was glad to see that the riders commented on the prairie winds. Of course, the Drumheller area gets even stronger winds than we do here, but it was comforting that the pros noticed it and found it an obstacle. (Too bad they won't get to ride down near Lethbridge!)

I had to stop for a photo of these horses:

Until I was in junior high, I used to beg my parents to buy me a horse. They considered it, but because we lived in the city, there was the problem of where to keep it and how to care for it. Our community, although agricultural, wasn't really into horses. By the time I was 13 or 14, I was realistic enough to know it wasn't going to happen. I still rode every chance I got -- when we visited rancher friends near Maple Creek or when we went on holidays to places where trail rides were offered -- and even today my heart beats a little faster when I see horses like this.

After a few kilometers of fast and easy westward riding, I turned south again and headed into town and back home, for a total of 61.5 km. I saw only two other riders, both women, and both riding west on Airport Road. I don't know if they were together or each out on their own, but either way, I am always happy to see other women out riding.

Seeing all the geese today reminded me of a poem I can use for my upcoming afternoon class, where we focus on pronunciation:

Something told the wild geese

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go;
Though the fields lay golden,
Something whispered, - 'snow'.

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, - 'frost'.

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly -
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

~ Rachel Lyman Field

Tuesday...

In anticipation of picking up Little Granddaughter's laundry after work, I parked at my Callingwood spot and rode 13.5 km, mostly on multi-use pathways. Nice! I still feel a little uncertain on the many-branched path between my parking spot and West Edmonton Mall, but seeing a line of red shopping carts ahead is a good way to know I am focused on my target: the WEM Target store. 

As I ride along 165 Street, I pass some schools with names that have pleasant associations for me. There is Afton School, bringing to mind long-ago piano lessons. A little farther along is a school named after Thomas More; in my opinion, one of history's most interesting characters. There is also a sign that I find amusing: Parent Parking Patrol. No idea what it means, but it sounds like something that would feature on Sesame Street for the Letter P.

cartons of what??

And no matter how fast or slow I ride, I always seem to hit the red light at the Foody Mart intersection. In fact, I always arrive just as the light has turned red, meaning I have lots of time to contemplate this sign and to wonder just what "By the Carton" items Foody Mart deals in. Maybe one day I'll stop in and take a look. But I doubt it. It's on the wrong side of the street, for starters. But it is clearly an up-and-coming business.

Today as I entered the River Valley, a rabbit ran across my path. Seeing wildlife along the way makes my already-enjoyable ride even more delightful. As I began my climb up the Fortway Road hill, I saw another form of wildlife: a group of about 20 men, dressed in matching athletic wear, sitting on the grass and apparently listening to a pep talk of some kind. No idea what sport or what team. 

It was a gorgeous day and a great ride, but look what I wore! I wanted to wear my peachy-coloured skinny jeans. It was a cool morning, so I threw on my hot-pink thermal cycling jacket for the ride to work. A fashion statement I was not! I did look more pulled-together once I removed the pink jacket, revealing a cute and classic black pleated top.

A Study in Clashing

By the way, I love this Sugoi RS Zero jacket. I had to buy a larger size than I normally wear, as the shop didn't have the smaller sizes, but that turned out to be a good thing, as I can layer it over almost anything. I wore it all winter for both riding my bike and cross-country skiing. It is comfortable, cozy and highly visible -- everything an urban cyclist needs.

Mom, what's a trike?

 Look at this poor little three-year-old boy.

 

 Clearly he thinks he is hot stuff, riding his brand-new bright red tricycle. 

But he's not. 

He doesn't know it, but he should be riding a "run bike." The three-wheeled design of a trike means that he might not learn to balance as he should. If this boy continues in his foolish ways and persists in riding a trike, as his parents are seemingly forcing him to do, he might later, like his older brother, pictured below, succumb to the fallacy that training wheels are helpful when learning to ride a real two-wheeled bicycle. 

  

And, training wheels? Why, if he relies on training wheels, he might never learn to balance on two wheels.

Does this sound a bit like the story of The Three Sillies? I thought so, too. 

 (Deep sigh of relief from the audience)

From the photo above, it appears that our fears were groundless. 

Older Brother did indeed learn to ride on two wheels. 

Maybe there is hope for Little Brother after all.** 

This was 1990, when bike helmets for everyday riding were still a relatively new idea and when parents and children everywhere believed that the natural progression was: Trike, Bike-with-Training-Wheels, Plain Old Bike. Somehow, it worked, even without the benefits of the latest European technology.

** Since the long-ago days depicted in the above photos, Big Brother and Little Brother have ridden their bikes together on the Icefields Parkway, across southern Alberta and across Vancouver Island. Big Brother has also ridden the 250 km from Montreal to Quebec City in one day. Their early riding lessons on trike and bike-with-training-wheels seem to have been pretty effective.

ride leader in training

When I first started road cycling I read a few books about the sport. One thing that struck me as kind of funny was that a ride leader is expected to call out words of warning to those behind, thus informing them of hazards such as potholes, gravel, ridges in the pavement, etc. Well, around here, it might be more noteworthy to encounter uniformly smooth pavement. Otherwise, it is best to assume that There Will be Hazards.This is particularly true on the 106 Street bike lane in Edmonton. I laughed when I rode on the northerly portions of this lane. A ride leader would quickly become breathless from calling out, "Pothole!" "Another pothole!" "Gravel!" "Pothole, pothole, pothole!"

I also laughed the other day when I was out for a walk with Maggie on the trails here in town. A boy on a bike rode past, carefully moving as far left as he could to stay out of my way. He then called back, "Watch out for the person! Stay right!" -- and I watched as four other young riders obediently fell into single file behind him. 

I was especially taken with "the person." Was he merely being scrupulously politically correct? Or could he really not tell whether I was a man or a woman?

Or perhaps he wanted to say, "Watch out for the lady," but had learned from my 1st year French prof, Father O'Brien, that chaque dame est une femme, mais chaque femme n'est pas une dame.  (Every lady is a woman, but not every woman is a lady.) 

Incidentally, Father O'Brien also taught us: "Chez moi ou chez toi?" (My place or yours?)

And he taught us this song (we learned the first version.) He was a pretty cool guy and definitely knew how to make learning French fun for first-year university students.

[Chevaliers de la Table ronde
Allons voir si le vin est bon] [bis]

[Allons voir, oui, oui, oui
Allons voir, non, non, non

Allons voir si le vin est bon] [bis]

- 2 -
[J'en boirai cinq à six bouteilles
Une femme sur mes genoux] [bis]

[Une femme, oui, oui, oui
Une femme, non, non, non
Une femme sur mes genoux] [bis]*

Icefields Parkway

Just how fit can cycling and walking make you? 

Last September I asked myself this question.

My regular exercise routine is simple:

• I ride my bike to and from work (15-17 km) most days. This is on city streets, with frequent stops at red lights.
• Hubby and I walk the dog most nights. Our shortest route is about 5K; sometimes we go 8 or even 10K, at a speed of about 6.4 km/hour. Not exactly a strenuous workout.
• Sometimes I go for a fast (7.5-8 km/hour) half-hour walk during my lunch break.
• In the evenings, I do push-ups, abdominal exercises and weight-lifting (2.2 kg dumbbells.) A few yoga stretches. That kind of thing.
• When I can’t exercise outdoors, I use the treadmill or stationary bike inside.

I knew this fitness regimen had helped me maintain my ideal weight and clothing size for the last few years. That was good. It made me smile. But last fall when my oldest son, my youngest son and I decided we wanted to cycle the Icefields Parkway – 230 km of highway between Jasper and Banff -- I asked myself: Just how fit am I? Would I still be smiling as I rode about 100 kilometres per day, two days in a row, up and down some rather decent-sized hills? 

My bicycle ride to and from work is fairly flat. Sometimes I ride through the River Valley, which is a little hillier, but nothing compared to the climbs I’d face on Highway 93. I was also apprehensive about the downhill stretches. What if I wiped out while attempting to control my speed going down those slopes?

A few days before we left, I decided to test my mettle on the hilly range roads and secondary highways north of town. These are not exactly mountains, but I figured they’d give me a taste of what I’d encounter on the coming weekend.

Well, guess what? Those hills were easy! The first day I rode 26 kilometres, uphill and down, no sweat. The following day I increased the distance to 32 kilometres, adding another hill or two. Still no problem.

The next day we left for Jasper. And folks, we did it! I rode the entire way over two days. I won’t say it was exactly easy, but it wasn’t horribly difficult either. There was one point halfway up one of the hills (not even the biggest climb) when I sort of felt like giving up, but after a few minutes’ rest, I was ready to go again. The wind was vicious; it rained one entire morning, and it was cold and hot by turns; but I did it! And best of all, I wasn’t even sore afterwards.

Check out those clouds!

Not only that, but I even managed to sleep on the hard beds at the hostels. And survived three days and two nights without running water! 

Beauty Creek Hostel

My love for road cycling stems from this trip in Jasper. When I got home, I decided that riding hills was too much fun to limit it to once a year in the mountains, and I started my weekend routine of riding on the hills north of town. Thirty-two kilometres was no longer enough, so I set myself a few different 45-50 kilometer routes and rode three times each weekend until late November, when the snow hit the highways.

A surprising side effect? I had to buy a bunch of smaller pants, becausemy “ideal size” pants became too big, even with a belt. And as the smaller pants also became loose, I had to start eating more so that I wouldn’t disappear altogether. This was a problem I had never encountered before, one that was taken care of by the advent of winter and by the dozen or so boxes of chocolates I received as Christmas gifts from my students.

Today I rode 48.9 km. It was a bit windy and cooler than yesterday, but still great. The sky was the most perfect blue, a striking backdrop for the flocks of returning Canada geese. Even the obnoxious crows and raucous seagulls were beautiful to my eyes -- their presence means that spring has truly begun.

Temperature: +1 Celsius; Wind: SE at 22 km/hour