we had talked ourselves to and through this last little
point, the point where we would be confronted with the fact that it was over,
and we had succeeded, and there must be something next because the ache in the
legs will never appease the ache in the heart. so we pedaled forward, wondering
about the last few meters of the rise, about the cop in front of whom we almost
ran this stupid red light, about how in the hell we willed ourselves through
the last two hundred and forty kilometers. it would, of course, be a sprint
finish.
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tumbling down the pseudo-smooth highway from the highest
point in southern ontario, it never occurred to me that i was flirting with the
edge between sanity and something else. i was screaming at myself in the hopes
that vocal volume alone would generate some much-needed heat beneath my layers.
i was repeating phrases like 'nice and warm nice and warm nice and warm nice
and warm'. my teeth were chattering.
i could not brake because my fingers would not bend. i was stuck, as it were,
in the highest gear i had and i was hammering my pedals into it for all i was
worth. my tires sprayed road grime up my back and into intimate areas that had
long since gone numb. i was blind with the abrasive impact of infinite rain
drops that felt like a sand storm on the parts of my face i could still feel. my
legs went round and round and round. my words did the same. nice and warm and
nice and warm and nice and warm and dry and dry and dry and nice and warm and
nice and warm and dry and dry and dry. i couldn't wait for the next ascent. i
couldn't wait for the next instance of warmth, no matter how much my thighs
screamed for rest, the rest of me screamed for heat. we needed a hill, and here
we were, screaming down the biggest hill in southern ontario, trying to not
fall off the edge altogether. scary things are afoot when we start talking
about our body parts as individual entities.
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jada said, months later, that she had gone out in the car on
that dismal day to look for us. no real plan or map or route, just an idea and
a general profundity of love that would likely guide her to us. she mentioned
that it warmed her heart to see so many riders on that scrap of land we were
lucky to call home once upon a time. i responded that if she saw riders, she
would never have seen us.
we saw riders at the first rest stop, and again at the turn
that they all missed to cut their ride short by some miles. there is something
torturous about knowing just where you are, just where a warm home and hot
chocolate could be, and how many miles, vertical and surface, have to be ridden
in between. ignorance would have been bliss. i hadn't studied the route map for
that very reason. then i had decided to take some ownership of it and make sure
that i would know the turns and the order and all that other crap that ends up
hurting my brain after my legs have spent all of its oxygen. as luck would have
it, i should have kept to myself and remained in ignorant bliss. for i made the
correct turns, knew exactly where i was, and always had too far to go, re-learning
every vertical inch one pedal push at a time.
________________________________
outside of kaszuby the road regresses to its original
garbage state, more pothole and patch than pavement of some kind. hopefield is
a rugged and beautiful ridge that shoulders up to other high points and
eventually foymount, and its inhabitants are varied and few. outside of a
modest brick home whose aesthetics leaned more towards military practicality
than soaring architectural ideals, i was powering up a hill, optimistic about
my chances of keeping up, cautious about using my reserves to climb too fast
too soon. i need not have worried. as i drew abreast to the upper limit of the
hill, and parallel to the pragmatically gravelly driveway, i felt something
begin to ease, and i noticed the sickening hiss of a tube gone flat. this was
to be the first of two catastrophic punctures of the day, the first of only two
CO2 cartridges, the first of three oversized tubes carried, and the last time i
would feel confident.
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