Cycling vs. cars: 730 km grind opened my eyes

Pretty much ever since I became the Wheels Editor in 2002, people have been asking me why we don’t include bicycles in our coverage.

The answer is easy: Wheels readers appreciate engines and motorized vehicles and they don’t really want to read about bicycles. There’s not a lot of cross-over, after all: The issues and experiences of bicyclists are quite different from those of the drivers of cars and trucks. Even motorcyclists share far more with our readers than those of cyclists.

However, the section is big enough that we can include stories about all kinds of transport from time to time. Over the years, we’ve included snowmobiles, ATVs, planes and even a warship; basically, if we reckon readers would like to read about it, we’ll find the space. Not every week, perhaps, but every now and again. And the calls for stories about bicycles have gotten louder over more recent years, so I thought I’d better give the things a fair shake.

As well, my wife has developed a love for cycling that she’s trying to pass on to me. It’s not been easy and I’m a reluctant convert, but I accept that I need the exercise and bicycles seem as good a means to that end as any. So when the Great Waterfront Trail Adventure people read a column that I wrote last year about the terrible torture of cycling they challenged me to participate in their organized 730 km tour from Niagara-on-the-Lake to the Quebec border this past week. I took the bait.

As well, my cruel and unusual wife told me that I should do the tour with her, as she’s done the past two years, so that we could share our wedding anniversary together on July 9. I’m nothing if not open-minded.

If you’ve read my blog at Wheels.ca, you’ll already have followed my daily entries from the road and will know that I pedalled every wheel-turn of the route, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes enjoyably, usually in great heat and always with tremendous encouragement from the other cyclists on the journey, most of whom were just as out-of-shape as myself.

I really didn’t train for this and haven’t been to the gym in several years. In my adult life, I’ve cycled maybe 300 km total. The day I left home, I weighed myself and clocked in at 196 lbs., which is about 10 more than I should be at 48 years old.

So how was it, now it’s over?

Physically, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But you know, it wasn’t really all that tough. Just one foot in front of the other, rotation after rotation after rotation.

If it hadn’t been so hot — up in the high 30s and often with little shade — it would have been much easier. And if I wasn’t riding a 20-year-old bicycle that weighed a tonne and was too small for me, it would have been considerably easier. Hills? Just use a low enough gear and tuck your head down and you’ll make it. So as I wrote somewhere along the way, if I can do it, you probably can too.

The greater challenge came from sharing the road with cars, and the pathways with other users. A teenaged cyclist nearly wiped me out on the dedicated pathway in Toronto that runs beside the lake shore, at the foot of Parkside Dr. Rollerbladers with iPods who couldn’t hear my bell and zig-zagged the entire width of the path were a great concern, but only in the GTA.

And cars and trucks that passed without moving over the minimum one metre of distance were a real scare. I can see that the extra metre of painted laneway beside the highway that municipalities are starting to provide as bicycle lanes are an invaluable addition.

Cyclists do have a right to ride on the road, and they also have a right for their space to be respected. By all means, lobby for the construction of bicycle lanes (and the lane beside Hwy. 2 on the final hour to the Quebec border was the smoothest and widest of them all, perhaps thanks to the local mayor being a cyclist and on this tour).

But if there is no lane and the roadway is narrow — just don’t ride on it if you think it is too dangerous. And if you’re driving on a narrow road and see a cyclist ahead, give that bicycle as much space as possible, which includes slowing down to pass until it’s safe to do so for all concerned.

Environmentally, none of the 250 of us used any gasoline, though our support vehicles did and we may have saved the earth more if we’d just stayed home (though the air conditioning would have been cranked).

We guzzled bottled water and unwrapped granola bars by the hundreds at rest stops, leaving behind small mountains of plastic and wrap in bins that we would hope would be recycled. In practice, of course, most cyclists just fill and refill their water bottles from the tap at home, but that’s not always possible on a long tour.

And if you want to follow the argument further, much of the fruit that we ate was trucked from far away in seven-mile-per-gallon trucks.

The point is, nobody’s perfect and many people are oblivious to the true costs of environmentalism, but the effect of a bicycle on the planet is still negligible compared to any motorized vehicle.

And finally, there’s the emotional, psychological challenge of a long ride like this. It’s tempered by the support of the hundreds of others who are sharing the event with you, but it can be difficult to push along into the wind when others just stream past in their cars with no effort; it’s rough sometimes to climb hills and press along under the sun, just to reach the crest and see another long stretch of baking highway ahead.

In Prince Edward County, 70 km into the day, I felt like Mel Gibson’s character at the end of Mad Max, just travelling exhausted while the painted lines blurred against the asphalt.

But at the end of it all, there’s no feeling like the accomplishment of a long bicycle ride. While anybody can steer a car or twist a grip, it’s proof to yourself that you can accomplish something extraordinary.

It takes effort and determination more than fitness and strength, and if the route is chosen carefully, as this Waterfront Trail was, it can repay you with experiences you can find no other way: riding through wetlands and forests and green pathways next to Lake Ontario and alongside the St. Lawrence River with no other sound than the crunch of fine gravel and the whir of a thin chain. Pausing along the way to see scenery that you feel that you’re sharing, rather than encroaching upon. And resting at the end, knowing that your body may be stiff now but it will loosen up as it grows accustomed to the exercise, and that it will thank you in years to come.

I’m home now and my bicycle is back in the garage. I’m looking forward to going out for a ride on my Harley soon and gliding up and down hills with no effort, and riding through curves at speed.

I’ll be making a road trip on her to Quebec with my son later this month that should be wonderful, and I’ll be sure to follow the Waterfront Trail on the way there.

But I’m also looking forward to lubricating that thin chain and pumping those narrow tires up to 110 lbs. and taking my bicycle out for another country run. It will take a little less effort this time and my body has grown more conditioned to the small seat and hard bars (although I gained 10 lbs. over the last week, mostly from those “guilt-free” breakfasts).

My bicycle and I have shared a lot together now, and this tour showed me that we’re not finished yet.

mrichardson@thestar.ca