I'm in the CLUB ... SMH

The aerobic portion of my isolation get-in-shape effort has been centered around my bicycle. Now that I have forced the joints and muscles of my posterior region to adjust to life perched precariously atop a small platform of high density foam, a hearty ride through the countryside has become enjoyable. It's taken a while, but I find I am choosing the bicycle as my preferred method of transportation.

Back in 2013, when I made a concerted effort to change my habits, the aerobic activity of choice was running, and if I'm honest, I really enjoyed it. Only AFTER I got in some sort of shape, though. Many a day dawned that I looked forward to a substantial trot through the trails we are so blessed to have access to in Barrie. When I decided that accompanying retirement would be get-in-shape V2.0, I thought running would be there for me, like a faithful old friend. My 56-year-old left knee quickly brought it to my brain's attention that there were some structural deficiencies that would prompt a change, signalling that my medial meniscus had balked.

Cue the bike and its beautifully low-impact exercise.

Those that care about my safety are always quick to remind me to be on the look out for potentially dangerous situations whilst out for a ride, and I always grinned, acknowledged their concerns and recommendations, but in my mind I was full of confidence about my abilities to deal with situations as they arose. After all, I had been on a number of long distance (for me, anyway) rides lately ... I visited my daughter in Angus; I visited my friend Val in Edgar; I ran an errand to Orillia; I went out and around Horseshoe Valley resort ... my metamorphosis from beginner to novice was nearly complete. Ahhh, said Darwin from his heavenly perch above, you become far too complacent with your new found abilities, so here's a little "Survival of the Fittest" situation to deal with ...

I was out for a morning ride and decided that zipping out the Simcoe County Rail Trail to one of the Oro lines that contained a bridge over highway 11 was the right choice. All was normal as I navigated the route to the beginning of the path near Thunder Bridge off Line 1. Joining the Rail Trail and carrying a decent pace, I was pleased that I had sole possession of the trail for as far as I could see. I was conscious of carrying enough speed that it was on the edge of difficult when a large hole in the trail, perhaps the result of an ambitious gopher, was quickly upon me. Faced with a 50-50 decision, I chose the right side of the hole, only to find that the gravel there was loose. The quicksand-like conditions grabbed my front wheel forcing my bike and I into the grassy edge ... A mushy, boggy grassy edge, thanks to the rain we've had over the past few days. No sooner had the thoughts of, "Uh Oh, this won't be good!" gone through my mind, I found myself airborne, being catapulted from my seat over the handlebars as the marshy ground locked onto my front wheel like a death grip from hell. Thankfully, I still possessed enough of my former athletic self to roll with the impact, bouncing to my feet in one quick motion. A quick status check revealed that I was unscathed. Turning to view my trusty two-wheeled steed, I could tell right away that the same could not be said. 

I am not a "Bike Guy". Nor am I mechanically inclined. It didn't take long to realize that the front wheel, in its present condition, was not going to allow me to walk, let alone ride, my bike back home. Faced with carrying it all the way ... likely 3-4 km ... I surmised that good old fashioned brute force was in order. I was thankfully able to take the front wheel off without difficulty, and after contemplating the requisite leverage to accomplish the job, I found a felled tree nearby that allowed a passable effort at smoothing out the metal. Remounting the wheel, I was able to manage that ride home without further trouble, albeit looking quite the sight, like a clown in a circus.

There's a happy ending to this story, and all it took was money! 

After assuring my wife that I was uninjured, a call to a real "Bike Guy" at the local BikeZone shop revealed there was a new rim was in stock, provided that I would be able to mount the tire + tube and exchange the disc for the disc brakes. I'm happy to say that all was successfully done and my steed was back in working condition. 

Suffice it to say that I will be able to chalk this up to learning, and perhaps heed the concerns of the those who care about me, but I'll likely follow the lead of the "Bike Guy" who, upon learning of my escapade, simply shrugged and said, "You're not a real rider until you sailed over your handlebars."

Wait a minute! 

Does that mean I'm officially in "The Club"? 

Cool!