I would also have fingers with only partial feeling - They still hadn't come right after a prolonged snow fight with the children the previous afternoon - up the Maungtuks. We had driven up, not cycled.
Not on the road bike on this day. No. Not on the road either. With ice and snow in this corner of the world I setoff on my mountain bike, and have to admit to being a tad disappointed about the lack of snow on the ride through to work. Plenty to see though, to be sure, with the view of the hills between Kapiti and Pukerua Bay utterly surreal - Snow capped hills had never been seen on this stretch of road, and I marvelled at how a journey I had made so many times by bike had never looked quite like this.
I had also never cycled right through Queen Elizabeth Park. First one through the narrow walkway tracks on this day, breaking the icy puddles as I rode on, and riding over a couple of sections of black ice, albeit at slow speed - all without incident.
On this cold morning I was warm, with eight layers of clothing, and arriving at work I felt short changed - as I did all day long. The skies were clear and the previously seen forecast of sleet seemed nothing more than a tease. Our office had windows opened, and the mood was a good one. It seemed my opportunity had passed me by - the commute by snow.
At 2pm however I went to get my jacket and reflective gear off the bike. And it was cold. I mean REALLY cold. I got back to my desk and was shivering, and was relieved I had plenty of layers, and also spare clothes, that would be worn also. At 3pm the dark clouds finally arrived. At 3:30pm the rain started, and while slowly at first, the rain was constant after a short while. By 3:50 it was heavy, with wettened snowflakes amongst the drops of rain. I setoff not sure what to expect, but open minded to the adventure ahead of me.
For someone wanting a warm comfortable commute home this ride would be hell. Soaked through before I had even gotten to through Mana, I was grateful of the layers being worn, and turned off to climb over Airlie Road. The rain set in on the long gradual ascent. Rain ran down my arms and into my gloves. Otherwise I had no sensation of the wet, as I was soaked through. Looking ahead I simply pedalled towards the top of this hill. The view at the top was no more special than the other times I had ascended this hill. No less special however. A wet descent and wetter ride home thereafter awaited me. A commute by bike - mileage to be ridden.
Sometimes in this life we have moments that are unexpected. Our souls touched, albeit it briefly. And we remember why we are here. Cycling up Pukerua Bay Hill the rain suddenly stopped, and the snow became heavier than before. Heavier than I had ever seen - even when experiencing two English winters. The larger flakes were no longer melting on the road, and instead collecting on everything. The hills went out of view, then visibility cut down to 100 meters, then 50 meters, then 20 meters. Everything was white, and snow was all I could see. "This is so awesome!!" I said out loud. I opened my mouth and let the snow flakes land where ever they wished. The term 'Winter Wonderland' seems contrite, but in this rare moment it explains perfectly what was around me.
Reaching the top of the hill I knew the descent would see the snow gone, and rain replace everything that seemed to be magical. It did. A wet ride continued there after. Not before I noted that my wind breaker was covered in a layer of ice and snow. Even the gears and handlebars on the bike had a film of chilled water across everything. Lazy snow landed on me from that point onwards. If the theme of the morning ride had been one of a cool, crisp, dry ride, then the theme riding home had been one of sleet, snow, and rain.
Riding along Centennial Highway I got an 'ice cream headache' from the cold, and by now had lost the feeling in my feet. I was happy though. Happy with this world, and where I was in it at that point in time. Enduros, Maxi Enduros, Graperide Ultimates and the like were special days in my life, but rides such as this one were pure gold for my soul. THIS is why I ride. The rain was here to give me puddles to ride through. The hills were to give me a better view. The cold was nothing more than reference for the warmth I'd experience once reaching home. Yes. This was a special ride.
Full pace through QE2 Park during a raining twilight was to follow. No one walking their dog, running leisurely, or wandering through the tracks for their afternoon's exercise. No. At home. Tucked up. And safe. The whole lot of them. Safe from the dangers of this wind and rain and views they'll never see. The real world - Unspoiled by the editing and Photo Shopping we normally have to endure - Instead, real and gritty. And occasionally containing the discomforts many see as hardships. I sailed down a hill at full speed and hit a puddle 30 meters long. Water everywhere and I turned to my right for the final portion of my Commute by Snow. Onto the road once again. Slower than normally experienced on the road bike, but always moving forwards. I was cold, but I was happy.
Finally then, sopping wet I turned into my street and arrived home. The rain pounded our house, and I put the bike away before finally being back in the warmth. Having ridden to work and back over 450 times I looked back on this experience with wonderment. Those moments cycling up Pukerua Bay were utterly magical. The silence, stillness, and complete whiteout had me believing this moment was purely for me. And in many ways it was - Viewed as it was meant to be viewed - Within the image. Art in it's most real form.
In this very special year I am reminded that there are many ways to travel your journey. It turns out that it does snow in Kapiti. Thus, I am also shown that the unexpected occurs at times, and this is not always a bad thing. Not in the long run. Not if you get to your goal better and stronger for the experience. So I remind myself that not having a perfect season of training is ok, as long as the journey still finds its way to the place you need to be.
These last few months have been trying to say the least. Some days have been so hard. I have become aware of the mental hardships faced by those who put themselves into the public view, while pursuing a rare goal. Illness, setbacks, non-believers - all coming to the fore, and often when I've needed it the least. But positive days like this remind me that if you are prepared to experience the riches that are all around us, then anything is possible…and occasionally you'll be reminded that there exists light at the end of the tunnel.
Throughout the darkened winter months I needed to remember the key aspect of this ride - Motivation, self belief, and being surrounded by those who want to help. Those who wanted to join me on this journey. This is truly the narrow path…this is the Record Ride.
Not on the road bike on this day. No. Not on the road either. With ice and snow in this corner of the world I setoff on my mountain bike, and have to admit to being a tad disappointed about the lack of snow on the ride through to work. Plenty to see though, to be sure, with the view of the hills between Kapiti and Pukerua Bay utterly surreal - Snow capped hills had never been seen on this stretch of road, and I marvelled at how a journey I had made so many times by bike had never looked quite like this.
I had also never cycled right through Queen Elizabeth Park. First one through the narrow walkway tracks on this day, breaking the icy puddles as I rode on, and riding over a couple of sections of black ice, albeit at slow speed - all without incident.
On this cold morning I was warm, with eight layers of clothing, and arriving at work I felt short changed - as I did all day long. The skies were clear and the previously seen forecast of sleet seemed nothing more than a tease. Our office had windows opened, and the mood was a good one. It seemed my opportunity had passed me by - the commute by snow.
At 2pm however I went to get my jacket and reflective gear off the bike. And it was cold. I mean REALLY cold. I got back to my desk and was shivering, and was relieved I had plenty of layers, and also spare clothes, that would be worn also. At 3pm the dark clouds finally arrived. At 3:30pm the rain started, and while slowly at first, the rain was constant after a short while. By 3:50 it was heavy, with wettened snowflakes amongst the drops of rain. I setoff not sure what to expect, but open minded to the adventure ahead of me.
For someone wanting a warm comfortable commute home this ride would be hell. Soaked through before I had even gotten to through Mana, I was grateful of the layers being worn, and turned off to climb over Airlie Road. The rain set in on the long gradual ascent. Rain ran down my arms and into my gloves. Otherwise I had no sensation of the wet, as I was soaked through. Looking ahead I simply pedalled towards the top of this hill. The view at the top was no more special than the other times I had ascended this hill. No less special however. A wet descent and wetter ride home thereafter awaited me. A commute by bike - mileage to be ridden.
Sometimes in this life we have moments that are unexpected. Our souls touched, albeit it briefly. And we remember why we are here. Cycling up Pukerua Bay Hill the rain suddenly stopped, and the snow became heavier than before. Heavier than I had ever seen - even when experiencing two English winters. The larger flakes were no longer melting on the road, and instead collecting on everything. The hills went out of view, then visibility cut down to 100 meters, then 50 meters, then 20 meters. Everything was white, and snow was all I could see. "This is so awesome!!" I said out loud. I opened my mouth and let the snow flakes land where ever they wished. The term 'Winter Wonderland' seems contrite, but in this rare moment it explains perfectly what was around me.
Reaching the top of the hill I knew the descent would see the snow gone, and rain replace everything that seemed to be magical. It did. A wet ride continued there after. Not before I noted that my wind breaker was covered in a layer of ice and snow. Even the gears and handlebars on the bike had a film of chilled water across everything. Lazy snow landed on me from that point onwards. If the theme of the morning ride had been one of a cool, crisp, dry ride, then the theme riding home had been one of sleet, snow, and rain.
Riding along Centennial Highway I got an 'ice cream headache' from the cold, and by now had lost the feeling in my feet. I was happy though. Happy with this world, and where I was in it at that point in time. Enduros, Maxi Enduros, Graperide Ultimates and the like were special days in my life, but rides such as this one were pure gold for my soul. THIS is why I ride. The rain was here to give me puddles to ride through. The hills were to give me a better view. The cold was nothing more than reference for the warmth I'd experience once reaching home. Yes. This was a special ride.
Full pace through QE2 Park during a raining twilight was to follow. No one walking their dog, running leisurely, or wandering through the tracks for their afternoon's exercise. No. At home. Tucked up. And safe. The whole lot of them. Safe from the dangers of this wind and rain and views they'll never see. The real world - Unspoiled by the editing and Photo Shopping we normally have to endure - Instead, real and gritty. And occasionally containing the discomforts many see as hardships. I sailed down a hill at full speed and hit a puddle 30 meters long. Water everywhere and I turned to my right for the final portion of my Commute by Snow. Onto the road once again. Slower than normally experienced on the road bike, but always moving forwards. I was cold, but I was happy.
Finally then, sopping wet I turned into my street and arrived home. The rain pounded our house, and I put the bike away before finally being back in the warmth. Having ridden to work and back over 450 times I looked back on this experience with wonderment. Those moments cycling up Pukerua Bay were utterly magical. The silence, stillness, and complete whiteout had me believing this moment was purely for me. And in many ways it was - Viewed as it was meant to be viewed - Within the image. Art in it's most real form.
In this very special year I am reminded that there are many ways to travel your journey. It turns out that it does snow in Kapiti. Thus, I am also shown that the unexpected occurs at times, and this is not always a bad thing. Not in the long run. Not if you get to your goal better and stronger for the experience. So I remind myself that not having a perfect season of training is ok, as long as the journey still finds its way to the place you need to be.
These last few months have been trying to say the least. Some days have been so hard. I have become aware of the mental hardships faced by those who put themselves into the public view, while pursuing a rare goal. Illness, setbacks, non-believers - all coming to the fore, and often when I've needed it the least. But positive days like this remind me that if you are prepared to experience the riches that are all around us, then anything is possible…and occasionally you'll be reminded that there exists light at the end of the tunnel.
Throughout the darkened winter months I needed to remember the key aspect of this ride - Motivation, self belief, and being surrounded by those who want to help. Those who wanted to join me on this journey. This is truly the narrow path…this is the Record Ride.
'Quieter Moments'
Many curse this rain.
Snow is everywhere I can see.
Riding through magic.
.
.
.
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