Yesterday, our city had its first snowstorm of the season. Ordinarily, we would have significant piles of snow by now, but El Niño has been kind to us this year. However, after two months of unseasonably warm snowlessness, winter arrived. Yesterday, incidentally, was also my first day back to work after the Christmas holidays. Having that extra day added to my weekend felt like bliss…
I came downstairs to Matt setting up to make pancakes with the children (lucky guy gets the whole week off, as his school is closed for the holidays). Matt looks up and says “You’re not wearing that to work, are you?! It’s snowing! It’s cold out!” I’m dressed in teal tights and a mid-length dress. “You’re biking in, right?” he asks. “Of course!” I reply, “It’s only minus 12!” I’ve commuted by bike year round (as has Matt) for almost twenty years, so there was no question in my mind about whether to ride my bike to work. (And let me tell you, I’m not a tough person or someone with anything to prove. In reality, I’m a bit of a wimp.) Each year there’s a day or two when the snow is just too deep to pedal through and I have to walk in. But surely today was not that day, it was only the first real snow! No, no, on this day, I confidently assumed that, like in other years, people were over-reacting to the snow. That is, over-compensating by wearing too much clothing and avoiding travel. No over-reaction would come from me! Each year, as winter settles in people become accustomed to the conditions and they remember how to carry on with their usual life in spite of the winter (sorry winter, I don’t mean to spite you, it’s just a turn of phrase). Knowing this, I tell myself, assuredly, that there’s no reason not to wear a dress or to ride my bike. A glance out the window confirms that, indeed, a lot of snow has fallen and is continuing to fall. Hugs and kisses delivered to my loves and out the garage door I head into the snow, with my bike, of course.
I step into the snow. Ah…it turns out the snow is light, fine, and the slippery sort. If you’ve lived with significant snow in your life you know that there are many types of snow. Understanding their properties first hand informs us of what to expect and how to act (ahem…). Growing up in Canadian cities with major snow accumulation, being an outdoorsy person, I know what I’m in for with this snow (ahem…). A test ride on my bike confirms my intuition, the wheels spin like an exercise bike that doesn’t move forward. No worries, I tell myself, I will just push my bike through the snow until I come to a main road, which certainly will have been plowed or at least compacted by car commuters. I begin down my street, passing a fellow cyclist neighbour who is shovelling and says to me: “Biking in, eh?” (Which, if you don’t understand Canadian, is a kind way of questioning the logic of biking on such a day). Not even slightly deterred, I call out “Of course! I just need to get to a main street, then it’s smooth sailing!” I continue on. As I turn off my street I can see what’s usually a busy residential street ahead that would ordinarily be cleared of snow due to its through traffic. Hmm, not so today. I decide I will have to take a detour to a more main street, the Main Street in our city, Bank street. This means pushing my bike for an extra four blocks, but what choice do I have? (Turning around is not an option, eye roll). And besides, if I’m honest, the adventure of it is a big part of the fun. Yes, fun.
I continue on, two blocks later, I come upon a friend of Matt’s, an avid outdoorsman, cyclist and athlete, he’s shovelling and calls out to me: “You look like a Dutch woman, are you off to race cyclocross?” This is meant as a joke, as I’m wearing a dress and clearly only crazy, competitive cyclists would persist with riding a bike in such weather, and would only do so because they didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to race their bike. I laugh at his joke, which I really only get because I’ve lived with a cyclist for almost twenty years. I reply “It’s just a little snow, I’ve commuted for years! I used to live in Montreal!” (Which is a Canadian joke, because Montreal gets huge dumps of snow AND has crazy drivers, if you commute by bike in Montreal you earn a badge of bravery). I continue on to the end of his block, and looking up ahead I notice a photographer snapping photos of pedestrians walking by, he aims his camera at me and starts taking pictures. I suppose a woman in a dress with a bike in this weather could make for a good photo story. I recognize his body language and realize it’s Justin Tang of the Canadian Press, who I’ve met a few times around town. “Hi Justin!” I call out. “Oh hey, Danielle!” He snaps a few more photos and then we chat about the weather and a few other spots where he could get some good photos of people in the storm. “Have great day, enjoy the snow!”
I continue on one more block and am now at the busiest street in town. Well, look at this…it hasn’t been plowed, and there’s only one lane open in each direction, even the city buses can’t pull over to open their doors for passengers because the snow is too deep. At this point, I concede that I cannot ride my bike to work. Well, I could, but it would mostly be pushing my bike, it would be dangerous in this traffic, and it would take way too long. (I do need to arrive at my desk at a reasonable hour!). I park my bike at a nearby condo tower, out of the way from snow plows (which will undoubtedly pass by soon, #optimism) so that it doesn’t get hit and run down by a plow (yes, it happens…a lot).
I hop on a city bus and arrive at work late, but given the weather, no one is concerned. I love these days. While there is normally so much concern that we attend work for the full hours, so as to ensure we have enough time to get everything done, on bad weather days, another logic kicks in: we can get done what needs to be done in the time available. I work away at my desk for a few hours and then an email comes in advising our team that we can leave work early due to “deteriorating” weather conditions (what?! The weather is amazing!). Doesn’t sound or look like anything has deteriorated to me, it’s beautiful outside! Without delay I put my boots and parka on and I’m out the door of the office tower.
I love to walk. I would probably walk everywhere I went if I had the luxury of time. I would love to walk to work and home each day, but this would rob me of time with my children (yes, it would feel like robbing) by adding 45 minutes each way to my commute, essentially leaving me with about an hour and a half of waking hours with my children each day. Not enough! So, I bike to work in order to delay my departure and bike home to rush my return. But yesterday’s weather allowed no rushing, even the city buses were crawling along. So, out of my office I happily stepped, knowing that circumstances were allowing me to walk home without any inner guilt that would stem from selfishly choosing to walk and thereby stealing time from my family.
I work in the bordering city, bordering province in fact, which is separated from Ottawa (city), Ontario (province) by a beautiful river (where we spend many summer days), there is a long bridge connecting the two provinces. I love walking this bridge, the river, the energy of the rushing water, beautiful Victoria Island situated at mid point, the old stone buildings built along the river, trees and hills, naturally formed. I know that it’s serendipity’s gift that I get to walk home in this gorgeous weather. I know that it’s impossible for me to rush myself. And so, I just inhale it all, inhale the season, inhale the moment. Inhale, exhale. Slowly.
As I’ve said elsewhere, I don’t often move slowly outside of my time with the children. My job is hectic, my commute is rushed, and so this weather is a gift to move slowly, to savour. And I know it. Thank goodness, I know it.
The walk is beautiful, passing the river, trees, wild rose bushes where we have gathered petals in the summer, then moving more into the city centre, the downtown streets, passing by statues accumulating snow, traffic lights glowing through frosty flakes. It’s all beautiful. An hour and a half later I arrive at the condo building where I had parked my bike. Snow plows clearly haven’t passed by yet and my bike is in perfect condition, albeit half buried. Did I mention it’s still snowing? I unlock my bike and continue my walk home, pushing my bike through the unplowed streets. I’m glowing from enjoyment of all the unexpected in the day.
As I walk the 6 blocks to my house, I pass the same avid cyclist neighbour who flatteringly referred to me as a Dutch woman, “Still shovelling, eh?” I call out in a humorous tone.”Pretty much!” he replies. I continue on, passing other neighbourhood folk who I don’t personally know: an older couple happily chuckles as they see me pushing my bike, I grin to myself and them, happy to give them a good laugh. “Great day for biking!” I call out. More laughter. I continue on, passing another person every few houses, each smiles and chuckles away at my silliness, but also, I intuit, because they too have been overly optimistic about Canadian weather on occasion, their smiles belie this truth. I pause and realize I’m delighted to be giving people a reason to laugh at the weather and to have an extra laugh in their day. This day, this weather, has been a gift.
I arrive home to find out that Matt’s longest friend reported to him that this day was the hardest bike commute he’s ever had (he had to carry his bike through the snow). He’s a hard man, he’s been commuting forever, he’s lived in the mountains. Matt tells me I should have skied to work. But I’m really glad I biked.
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