Hello, blizzard. My bike shall defeat you

Winnipeg's blowing snow, monstrous potholes and glaring motorists won't keep me from my daily thrill

JONATHAN DYCK

From Friday's Globe and Mail

February 20, 2009 at 9:55 AM EST

Everyone in Winnipeg seems to understand the difficulty of commuting to work on days when the snow comes down thick and the wind won't let up. Whether you frequent public transit, walk or take your own vehicle, a blizzard will find some way to disrupt your morning routine.

What everyone doesn't seem to understand on days like these is why twentysomethings like me stubbornly take up vehicle lanes on our bicycles, especially when visibility is poor at best.

I arrived at the office more than an hour late: just in time to see our editor jiggling his key into the lock on our building's back entrance. I wasn't late after all. Nor was I surprised when my mysteriously absent supervisor called later that afternoon to inform me that he wouldn't "be able to make it in today."

I did my best to sound slightly disappointed as I closed my spreadsheets and logged on to Facebook. It turned out to be a fine day at the office, but I couldn't ignore the unpleasant thought of returning home through a tunnel of blowing snow.

My excuse for running late was the layer of well-packed snow and ice on my bike route. That morning was the closest I had come to falling this winter, and each time I slipped I had the added discomfort of being on display, as if I was performing for an audience of drivers and their passengers.

At every intersection I could feel motorists glaring at me, imagining the collision or wipeout I was fated to have. Those images run through my mind, too. But I don't have airbags. Nor do I have tinted windows to hide behind. The only thing that keeps me warm is moving my legs up and down. My safety rests upon the layers of wool sweaters and old scarves I've accumulated over the years. Enough to make me look like a thrift-store spectacle.

I wear a heavy winter coat, a scarf, a tuque and mittens - no helmet. Not because of the way it looks. When I'm cycling downtown, it's obvious my appearance isn't that important to me. My reason for riding without a helmet is simply because it doesn't fit with my tuque on, and I'd rather have warm ears than protect myself from a fall that might never happen. I'll wear it again when things warm up a bit in March. Each season brings its own hazards, but winter is far and away the most gruelling.

You'd be surprised at the number of people in Winnipeg who choose to get on their bikes every day, rain or shine, snow or hail. We skid through intersections and crash through mounds of brown snow as motorists stare with bewilderment and irritation. I can't say I totally understand why I do it either, but at this point I've become so addicted to the ride and such a slave to routine that I don't even think of hopping on a bus or asking someone for a lift in their car.

There's a sense of mutual encouragement when cyclists pass each other, especially when the weather is unpleasant. It's an attitude I seldom see expressed among motorists, and even less between people using other modes of transportation. Perhaps this is because every year cyclists die from motor-vehicle-related accidents, or it might be because Winnipeg's infrastructure is so inhospitable to those on bikes. Cyclists are just as thankful for smooth streets as the next commuter, and more often than not we're squeezed off inches from the curb, where the real potholes lie.

Sometimes, seeing other cyclists pushing through the wind and snow is the only thing that keeps me going even if they're more suited for the conditions than I am. Regardless of style, we all share the roads.

Every day this winter I've arrived home from work amazed that I made it - through the snow, the traffic and the cold. I know my parents worry. I worry too. What was, at first, a small act of rebellion has turned into a routine that puts me in harm's way twice or more every working day.

I've thought of getting my red Sekine 10-speed "winterized," but it's worked just fine for me since I began winter riding two years ago.

Come spring, the chain will be rusted through and I'll regret not having spent more time maintaining my bike, but I will have survived the winter without visiting the gas station and I won't have as much weight to work off when the snow melts.

Slogging through the snow on a bike isn't only thrilling because it's dangerous - it's actually fun. I'll never grow tired of the look I get from people at work when I tumble into the office with icicles hanging from my eyelashes and one of my pant legs tucked into my sock.

"You're still biking?" they ask with astonishment.

Yes, and I'm still secretly hoping to be offered a ride.

Jonathan Dyck lives in Winnipeg.

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