Wipeout (And I'm not talking about the TV show...)

I made a critical error while packing this weekend, and today it came back to haunt me. Usually when something comes back to haunt you it is after years, and sometimes even decades. But no, not this time. This poor packing decision came back to haunt me within 72 hours. Just awesome. The error happened when I packed all of my backpacks into storage or sent them home to Ontario because I did not have room for them in my suitcase. Sounds like the logical thing to do, but there is a small problem. In order to carry out any errand on my bike, I need something to carry belongings in. I also need the necessary In-Case-Of-Emergency diabetic supplies at all times when doing physical activity. Without a backpack, this is a difficult thing. I tried carrying everything in my pocket for one bike adventure, but this was just a little painful and awkward. When you fill your pockets with the following items: insulin, needle, glucose tablets, cell phone, and debit card, it makes sitting on your bike a little painful. I had this fear that when I was biking that the needle was going to somehow escape from the orange protective lid and attack me. This is highly unlikely, however, I think I have made it quite clear that the thoughts that I have on my bicycle are not always normal.

This morning I needed to solve this pocket-storing dilemma. I needed to take the plates off my car to remove my insurance, and there was no way these were going to fit into my pockets (well, not without some significant embarrassment). I already needed to borrow a screwdriver from the people upstairs, so I decided to ask if they had a backpack I could borrow at the same time. Knowing that they have two small girls, I was kind of awaiting a Dora the Explorer backpack or something of the sort to come out of this request. So I asked, and Sandra told me that she thought she might have one. She delivered a backpack to me within a few moments of asking, and it wasn't exactly Dora the Explorer, but a close second. She even gave me options. The first was one of those drawstring type "backpacks" that is basically a cloth bag with a string. This one did not have a drawstring, however, but instead had very child-sized yellow straps. Initially I thought it was great, and started loading up the belongings I would need for my day on the road.  Unfortunately, once I had everything loaded and I was taking the final step to put it on my back and head out, this is when I realized the issue: the straps were miniature. Like they seriously did not even close to fit on my back. So that made my decision quite easy. I would be going with option #2. Good thing I had options!

Let me explain to you what option #2 was. Sandra did not have a normal backpack, so the second option can kind of be described as a diaper-bag-looking object. She has a newborn and two young girls, so this is not an odd item for her to have. This is, however, kind of a strange thing for me to be biking around Langley with on my back. I thought about my options, and immediately noticed that bag #2 was far superior to my non-backpack option. So I took the diaper-bag-looking object and made sure that the strap was tightened enough so it would not move around as I was riding. I then began to load up my bag with the necessary materials for the day.

This is what I decided I would need for the day on the road. Keep in mind that I left the house at 10:30 this morning and will not be returning home until 8:30 this evening. I basically need two meals and everything else you would put in a survival-kit for the day. I have night class (I may or may not currently be writing this blog during night class) so I needed to pack dinner. I packed up all the contents of my house the other day, so I am living with basically nothing to cook with and food that requires something to cook it with. Example: the sweet potato that I packed into my bag because I could microwave it at Trinity. This combined with edamame beans, which I can't magically heat without a microwave or oven (without any pans for the oven). So I packed my bag with these very important items (sweet potato and edamame beans) and put the diaper bag on. I was ready to face the road.

It only took moments to realize that this diaper bag was awkward. I was cruising (by cruising I mean flying at ridiculous speeds) down the 200 st. hill to head into the downtown area. I had a close call where the weight of the bag shifted from behind my back, and I carefully had to make sure that I shifted the bag back over without falling off the sidewalk into the busy traffic (Note: I usually don't ride on the sidewalk, but I have decided that when there are a bajillion cars on the road and there are no bike lanes that I would rather be ticketed or yelled at for riding on the sidewalk, rather than dying).

So I had avoided the most embarrassing moment that could ever possibly happen while on a bicycle until this morning. That is right. I did in fact wipeout off my bicycle. It is tricky to ride with a diaper bag with considerable weight in it on your back, and I didn't execute it very well. I was just leaving from getting my insurance removed, and I was down 2 license plates and a sheet of paper. This obviously threw off the weight of my bag considerably, so I was not accustomed to what my ride would feel like (this is my main excuse for what is about to happen). So I took a corner hurriedly and all of the sudden the bag on my back shifted and swung a lot. I needed to compensate for this swing, but I couldn't do this before something awful happened. I was focused on how to re-swing the bag back to my back, but at this moment my bike had responded to the massive amount of weight that had shifted from above the frame of my bicycle (I blame it on the sweet potato) . I now have a simple problem of the distribution of weight on my bike. My weight is distributed evenly on the frame of the bike, and this is how I am able to ride. When I am riding with the bag on my back, the weight is still evenly distributed. When the bag swung, this weight is now no longer evenly-distributed and myself  and the bike swung to the side. As the bike veered, I just happened to meet a pothole (what are the chances!?) and the rest is history. Me and my bike, shoulder, and face met the ground quite quickly. It was graceful. I'm sure of it.

Now let me explain where this took place. If you know Langley at all you will maybe feel sorry for me, and if not, you probably won't understand this at all. But what you need to know is that it is possibly one of the busiest intersections that I could have fallen at. I was directly by the Willowbrook Mall on 200th across from the Tim Hortons and McDonalds. It couldn't have been busier. Immediately when I fell, every car that was there rolled down their window in shock to ask if I was alright. Yes, I was alright. My pride was injured, but I would survive. I got up and tried explaining to one woman that the pothole killed me, but I just gave up. I couldn't do anything but laugh hysterically at myself.

So I think this means I am becoming a more seasoned biker. Everyone has to fall at one point in their biking career, and I have now successfully checked that off my list of things to do!

Chrissy vs. Hill

Each time I am about to encounter the massive hill on my way home from Trinity I imagine that it will become easier and easier, and one day it will pass by unknowingly and I will wonder where it went. Unfortunately it has come to my attention that this is not a reality, and that hill will never pass by without some serious motivational chanting (inner dialogue, of course). As I was about half way through the hill, I remembered those wise words from my father: "Chrissy, this hill would be a blessing to a professional cyclist. They would have to travel hundreds of kilometers to find a beauty like this" (or something to that effect). I had a choice, I could view this as a blessing, or I could view it as a really sucky huge hill that just generally sucks. Let me make it clear that it is a lot easier to view the hill as a blessing when you are not in the middle of it. I am sure I could view it as a blessing from the top looking down, or maybe even from a car, or some form of public transit.....or a horse....or anything that didn't require my legs to move me up it. Just kidding, but I noticed something as I was recalling what my dad said. It would be a blessing to a professional cyclist. Key words: to a professional cyclist. Now, we don't have to hold a meeting to discuss and vote on whether I am a professional cyclist. It is a unanimously resounding no.

I have not managed to become a professional cyclist, but I have managed to become professional at one thing: encouraging myself! This is a necessary thing when your legs don't want to move anymore, and you still have kilometers left of a hill. If you think I am exaggerating about kilometers of hill, I am not. I mapped it out, and there are 2 km of hill with the bottom (first portion) being rather severe. You don't exactly have time to ease into this hill. It just hits you, and before you know it you are motivationally speaking to yourself (important part: this must remain in your head, or else you look crazy!).

As I was motivationally chanting my way up the hill, it crossed my mind that even though I was not chanting aloud and looking crazy for that reason, that I may have the strangest facial expressions. I mean, every part of me is tired, and in my head I am repeatedly telling myself how great I am and how I can't stop pedalling or else (note: I am not really sure what the 'or else' even means when I say it to myself, but it makes me seem more serious to myself). This combination probably produces the strangest facial expressions. Not only that, but when you start becoming conscious of how strange your facial expressions may be, I swear they get exponentially worse. Then you try to forget that you even had that thought, but it's one of those thoughts that happens and you can't take it back.

I am a long, long way from ever being close to a professional cyclist, but perhaps I will strive for something else: professional encourager. I may look silly, but if I keep telling myself that I am great and I can do it, I think I am winning! Take that, big hill!!