6:15 a.m. It’s an unseasonably cool mid-May morning in Vegas, about 60 degrees. I’m carrying my bike down the stairs of my second-floor condo. Sure, I have a garage, but I don’t keep my bike in it. Our neighborhood has declined a bit. I’m nervous about leaving my precious two-wheeler in an easily penetrable tin-fronted box that also contains a trashed motorcycle and a defunct fridge.
One last check before I start my 6½ mile ride to work. My husband tweaked and oiled my gears a few minutes ago. My tires are firm, filled with plenty of air. My clothes, shoes and jewelry for the week are already at the office along with a towel and other “getting ready” stuff. I ride to work periodically, so I keep a bag there, ready to accompany me to the locker room on the first floor. My other necessities – wallet, makeup bag, windbreaker, bottle of ibuprofen, etc. – are stuffed into a small backpack. My iPhone is snug in its Otterbox, protected from any drops that may befall it on the ride. I’ve opened the RunKeeper app so I can easily start recording my stats when I’m underway.
I start my music, and I’m off!
May is National Bike Month, and May 16-20 this year is Bike to Work Week. I could have just gone with Bike to Work Day on Friday, the 20th, but I wanted to see how it’d be to ride for a full week. I was worried about the heat because Vegas can get warm in the afternoon in May, but I should have been more worried about the wind.
My ride to work involves a very slight downhill slope all the way. Depending on traffic and lights, I can make it in 30-40 minutes, and those are easy minutes. The ride back, however, is a different story. It has a couple of short, steep uphill spots right away, and then it’s a gradual incline the rest of the way. In the heat of the day, it can be uncomfortable. In the wind, it’s miserable.
Winds tonight, at 5:15 p.m., are blowing 15-25 mph. It feels like it’s skewing to the higher end. I have a meeting at 6, and I know within a few minutes that I’m going to be delayed. Thank goodness I gave my colleague a heads-up that I’d be riding. At least I am not stressed about being late.
As I ride, I think over the day. It was a bit gloomy, with head-shaking and some unhappy people. Not horrible but kinda blue. It feels good to shake it off by having to focus on the ride. As the miles fall away, I forget all about the down day and focus on fighting the wind.
Normally, the music helps, but tonight it’s not inspiring me particularly. I wonder why I decided to do this. Who’s idea was it? Oh, yeah… it was mine. No one asked me to do it. In fact, my husband would prefer I don’t do it. He worries about the cars in this un-bike-friendly town. I share his concerns, to a milder degree, which is why I ride predominantly on the sidewalk. It’s illegal but safer.
But I’m glad to be doing it. It feels productive, like I’m making the best use of my commute. I’m getting my exercise for the day; I’m saving money and fuel and the environment; I’m experiencing my world in a whole different way. I like setting a goal and seeing it through, even when it’s uncomfortable or inconvenient or slightly dangerous.
My muscles strain as I pump against the wall of wind, and my eyes tear so much I almost can’t see. I don’t need my sunglasses for glare; I need them to protect me from the wind and dust. By the time I arrive at my appointment, I feel gritty. But, I’m pleased with myself, even a little proud.
I did it! I blocked out the time on my calendar, brought my clothes in, prepped my bike and got up early to do this thing. I overcame nerves and laziness, and I did it. Now I just need to do it for four more days.
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