Features

Poky Bike to Work Month

Posted on: May 08, 2007

By Kim Ward

The nausea has finally subsided and the aches and pains have gone down too. Friday was a rough one especially after a 40 mile bike ride. Why did I do it? At first I thought my reasons were noble, at the end I was sure I had brain damage along with severe trauma to my groin. Now that some healing has occurred maybe I’ll do it again.

Poky Bike to Work is a great concept and what better way to celebrate National Bike to Work Month. Usually by May the weather has made a turn for the better and warmer climates are common if not expected. That was until I chose last Friday for my first attempt. A study of my life would prove that bad luck exists and when combined with a touch or ton of stupidity anything can happen like a decision to bike to work from Downey in hypothermic causing cold.

With temperatures in the low 20’s I began my ride early in the morning. Within a mile from my home I knew it was going to be a long day. When planning a long bike ride one thing at the top of the list of necessities is water. As most of you may recall, a bike has little if any storage space. Attempts at tying a bottle of the life giving liquid to the frame of the bike proved futile as the bottle kept falling to the ground. After a mile of the bottle falling several times it was abandoned at the side of the road (where it was later retrieved).

As I pedaled my old Peugot, a $5 find at a yard sale, for the first five miles something began to dawn on me. It was cold. Not the type of cold that requires another log on the fire but the kind of cold which requires medical attention for fear of frost bite. While I could seem my feet, all feeling and sensation had ceased. My fingers were also in on the prank with my feet. It was like watching a magic show. I could see my hands but my mind told me they were not there.

Suddenly the smell of manure attacked my runny nose. Why of all mornings did there have to be a herd of cattle being moved on the road I chose to bike to work on. It is extremely difficult to maneuver a bike with frozen hands and feet around massive amounts of manure. I am grateful the bull and the mother cows found me to be of no consequence or I may have had to have a closed casket funeral.

Another dilemma also came to my attention. A flat tire was a gift from heaven this early in the ride. I called my sleeping wife and begged like a crook at the gates of hell for another pair of socks, some thicker gloves, water and a ride to the gas station. She took pity on me and helped me out of my precarious predicament.

With thicker socks, better gloves, a drink, a full blown tire and a kiss for good luck from my wife I left McCammon feeling good. Being on a bike knowing I was saving Emperor Penguins in Antarctica and helping Al Gore with his message of Global Warming energized me as I took on the energy sapping hills between McCammon and Inkom. I arrived in Inkom tired but not beaten. I had pedaled for over 20 miles and thought it was going to be a cake walk for the rest of the ride. I stopped for a ten minute break at the Inkom Park and read the names of those on the war memorial as I ate my apple and orange. I wondered if anyone would ever put my name on a memorial. At least if I died on this bike ride it would be for a noble cause, not as noble a cause as the names on the memorial but a little. Maybe enough to warrant a small plaque or maybe have my name scratched onto a pebble. In any case, I got back in the saddle and rode off.

The rest of the ride was far from cake, it was more like mud pie mixed with green mud from the corral baked on a sizzling sidewalk. Inkom to Pocatello was a constant and gradual up hill battle. There was one moment of respite with a downhill slope but the rest was all torture. The burning in my legs and groin could only be experienced in the hottest parts of hell. My neck was as sore as Atlas’ neck after holding earth for an eternity and my water had run out. I began to feel dizzy as the monotonous circular motion of my feet brought a new surge of pain with every rotation. I may have felt delirious as I began to question whether Emperor Penguin would taste good as sushi and whether Al Gore was a misinformed sadist. I no longer cared if penguins bit the dust and if the planet got so hot it burst into flames. I just wanted it all to end.

The Exxon sign which normally represents the enemy to those believing in global warming and saving penguins (and the main reason I was riding my bike on this journey to Hades), was nothing short of the exhilaration experienced by a man dying of thirst spotting an oasis in the Sahara Desert. As I got off my bike, I winced as the blood rushed back to places it should normally flow. Panic set in as I hoped irreparable damage had not been inflicted. I began to pray that I was still a man. Hopefully it was more along the lines of a do-it –yourself vasectomy. In any case the pain indicated it wasn’t good. Walking also proved to be a bit difficult. Walking like a toddler with a full load in his Huggies was the best I could do.

As I walked into Exxon’s den of iniquity, patrons began to stare at me. I realized I was still wincing and walking funny while wearing a stupid looking helmet made of foam. They could all bite me. I was sure what I was feeling was as close to giving birth as I would ever come and could care less what people thought. I bought my 64 ounces of diet caffeine and guzzled like an alcoholic falling off the wagon. Slowly, I began to regain my composure. I ran into a friend outside who offered a ride. I declined. I had made it this far why not go all the way.

Riding a bike in the city is completely different than riding a bike on a country road. In town there are pot holes and curbs in the country there are cow pies and mud. You may occasionally see a driver pass you at outrageous speed in the country while in town it seems there is a price on your head and everyone behind a wheel would like to collect. I saw my life pass before my eyes three times before I reached the office here in Chubbuck. I have a new found appreciation for bike paths here in the city and think they should be required on every road.

People were amazed I made it. I tell them the help of God, a bottle of aspirin and the occasional hyperventilation induced black-out were the only reasons I did make it. Some words of advice to those contemplating biking to work; gel padded seat and a camel pack. Happy Cycling.

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