Misery Level on High; To Barrie and Back
My quest for this summer is a simple one; to spend a lot of time on the road bike. With limited mountain-biking resources available to me locally (apart from the trails within the Don Valley), I aim to spend most of the summer riding my Cervelo, Shirin, getting strong and exploring routes in and around this sprawling metropolis. And you know, I’ve been good about it my first week here, riding 105+ kms with Peter the day after my return and a group ride with Sweet Pete’s Sunday morning before work(about 50kms). Off work on Monday, I rode around town leisurely as I went for coffee with the most wonderful, Liz. Tuesday, however, I knew I needed to get in a long ride before my five consecutive days at work. Looking for a route, I decided to simply ride north to Barrie and back. Should get me about 180kms.
Tuesday morning as I ate and prepared my kit for the day, I did everything I could to divine an accurate prediction for the day’s weather. It looked like low probability of rain most of the day, getting up near 100% by about 5pm, but I hoped to be home by then. Still, I was dressed well for the 4-10degC. temperatures and for the bit of rain I might encounter.
My route was simple; with just a few little zig-zags I would take Keele north to Bradford then get on to Simcoe/Yonge(route4) north to Barrie. Same thing in return.
To be honest, this ride, and thus this little ride report, had nothing to do with the route, the mileage, the bike or my fitness. It had to do with the weather. Actually, it had to do with suffering and misery.
Heading north I had a slight tail/cross wind from the south-west. With the exception of a little sprinkle and some dry, tiny hail, the rain remained in the clouds. Arriving in south Barrie, I ate a piece of cheap pizza then turned around for the return trip. April in Ontario was about to punish me for living in the desert all winter. Pay back really is an SOB.
That lovely tail-wind was now either a direct head-wind or worse, a brutal cross wind, forcing me to work really hard not to be blown all over the road(my bike is a bit of a sail). The temperature never got above 10deg, mostly around 5-7degC. So long as it didn’t rain too hard, I would be warm enough…
At first it just drizzled but by the time I reached Bradford, it was raining steadily and fairly hard. I was getting pretty wet so I put on my long-sleeve shell and headed out of town…just in time for the rains to really pummel me. Riding along the Canal Road, I was now completely soaked and not very warm, despite having put my vest over my shell and adding a second pair of gloves. The world was grey and wet, I could barely see ahead of me as I grunted into the wind along a bumpy road. Misery level indicated about a 7/10.
Leaving Canal Road for Woodchoppers Lane, the rain subsided a bit, but just a bit. That road was also really bumpy and covered in mud from the farming vehicles that use it regularly. Turning south on Keele, I thought maybe the rain was behind me. Nope, it was just ahead, the worst about to come.
Suddenly and with savage vengeance the rain was pounding! The winds were coming from the west(my right) so hard I had to lean into it. But, because the hail and rain was so stinging, I had to turn my head down and to the left so as to avoid the pain of the hail driving into my face. The wind was howling, making terrible sounds as it tore through the leafless trees, intensified by the rumbling thunder. Up those short 13% climbs the rain and wind took no pity on me.
I had entered that peculiar mental place that only seasoned roadies can appreciate. A place where you don’t really think, you don’t really feel, the world a surreal blur, your body disconnected from your brain. I was alone in the universe, nothing existed but the road and the rain. Misery level now on high, a 9/10(a 10/10 would have been reached if I flatted and had to repair it in the rain)
Arriving in King City, I was truly miserable, feeling my lowest. I spied a restaurant whose outdoor sign said it was also a cafe. Perfect, I though, coffee and a break. I leant Shirin against the railing, slowly climbed the steps and walked into the pretty swank restaurant, Locale, looking like some pathetic mongrel. “Can I help you?” the cheery server enquired.
“Coffee, black coffee, please” I mumbled, sitting upon a stool at the bar.
Hunched over the bar with my hands above that warm cup of coffee,(I could not grasp the mug, as my hands were so cold the shock would have been unmanageable) I was creating a pool of water on the floor below me. Eyes closed, my brain numb, I could feel the tears welling up. “Don’t cry Bowling, don’t cry. Keep your shit together.” In my misery, one thought came to mind; soup, I want soup.
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“Would you like a bowl of soup, it’s a creamy sweet potato, I’ll see if we have any left over from lunch.” Moments later, this sweet angel from above brought me a warm bowl of heaven along with some bread. “Thank you” I muttered, trying to pretend I was human as I sat there, helmet still on.
We got to talking. Rachel, whose birthday it was, asked if I was near home. “No. I’m heading back to Toronto, I rode to Barrie.” “Oh, wow, that’s tenacious” she replied with eyes wide. I was thinking foolish, but I like tenacious better.
“I’m off work soon, so I’d offer you a drive, but I’m not about to drive to the City.”
“That’s okay, I need to finish this; I started it, I’ll end it.”
After about 45mins and two cups of coffee, I had regained the feeling in my hands(though, not my feet) and the rain had stopped. It actually looked rather pleasant outside. Thanking Rachel for her sincere, kind generosity,(she didn’t charge me for the coffees) I got back on the bike for the last leg of my ride.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, negotiating construction zones, TTC buses and rush-hour traffic. At 5:15pm, 8hrs 55mins after it had started, my ride was complete. Within 10mins, I was in the shower, barely able to stand on those frozen wrinkled stubs we call feet.
Sometimes, riding is easy. Sometimes, riding is hard. That was a hard ride, one of the toughest I had to endure in quite a long while. But, it was worth it. It made me feel alive through the suffering. Within my misery, I found the beauty of living. Long live the suffering.
