Riding in the cold is okay, as long as you've got equipment.  Which, mostly, I have got.  But even the most die-hard winter riders can get caught off guard...

The morning started out okay... just after 6 a.m., I set out on my trusty steed, lights on and music set to shuffle.  From the waist up, I was pretty warm: Four layers, including a down-filled vest, and a full balaclava and ski mask (the latter being a recent and very welcome addition to my winter gear) formed a pretty much impenetrable barrier between me and the -32 degrees Celsius (with windchill) outdoor early morning temperatures.

My lower legs were okay, too, as I had remembered to wear my 80s throwback leg warmers over my warm winter boots and two pairs of pants.

No, the initial troubles were not with the rider, but rather with the ride.

It would appear my bike was not built to withstand these subarctic Toronto-Mississauga temperatures: By Evans and Royal York, halfway through a Beethoven concerto, my derailleur stopped cooperating, and I could not downshift.  My bike, essentially, became single speed, stuck for the rest of the 14-km ride thankfully somewhere in a middle gear.

The unexpected extra cardio was admittedly an unwelcome addition to my morning ride, and neither Corey Hart nor Elton John, nor even Rush's New World Man could ease the pain of the the various laborious traffic light starts and surprisingly and suddenly ubiquitous little inclines enroute.

By the time I reached the East Mall and Queensway, however, a more pressing matter had begun to dominate my mind:  My butt and upper thighs were FREEZING!!!!  My second pair of pants was -- foolishly -- not a pair of snowpants, but rather my trusty waterproof pants that I generally wear more as protection against the rain rather than as a layer of warmth.  Though my upper body and my shins (thanks to the legwarmers) were quite toasty, the parts in the middle were... well, ...  not so much!

By the time I turned north on Dixie and pushed my way uphill through whatever godforsaken gear the stupid bike was stuck on, my middle parts had warmed up considerably from the extra workout.  But now my expensive but somewhat very old (circa 1998, I think) winter/hiking boots were starting to show their age, and my one-sock-layer-ensconced toes were FREEZING!!!!

To be honest, I was not convinced that I would make it to school alive.  But what else could I do?

I thought of the words of my wise (and much more bike-savvy and considerably more stamina-endowed) girlfriend, who once told me, "the good thing about biking is you know if you just keep pedalling, no matter how slowly, eventually you'll reach your destination".

I kept pedalling.

Very. Very. Slowly.

And, miracle of miracles, I eventually arrived at school!  Exhausted... starving... parts of my ass possibly frostbitten... but I was there, and with time to spare, even.

I got off my bike, wheeled it into the building, unlocked my classroom door, and sat down to thaw out.  Weakly, I dragged myself back out into the hall to my bike to unpack my oatmeal and half grapefruit from one of the panniers, and my work clothes from the other.

20 minutes later, I was defrosted, fed and sitting at a before-school meeting with two colleagues, doing some long-overdue planning a project we've been working on.  

My bike is still in my classroom -- I took the bus home tonight.

Biked home in the snow tonight.  Yup.  14 km.  

Other than a few frozen eyelashes, I was warm; thankfully yesterday morning's headwind adventures taught me to remember my proper biking boots and a few extra layers to add/shed as needed.  And Claudio Monteverdi carried me through to Queensway and Islington, where my iPhone finally died.  But boy, was it ever tough going... cold, wet flakes stinging my eyes, slow skidding tires all the way home: My 42-minute ride took nearly an hour and half!

It didn't help that some drivers seem compelled to share their personal (uninformed) perspective on winter biking with me while whizzing past way too close; one charming fellow -- all the commentators were men driving large vehicles, as an aside -- rolled do the window of his SUV and yelled out some obscenity to me as he splattered past on the Dundas turn-off to the 427.

I responded with an equally hostile tone, and added some choice words for good measure.  While I'm doing my best to stay reasonably fit and trying to offset my carbon footprint at least somewhat (yes, even on snowy, crazy days like today), it would be helpful if my car-driving fellow planet dwellers could simply move over a bit as they're passing, or least just drive by and keep their horns quiet and their mouths shut.  What I don't need while I'm biking by as safely as I can under extremely challenging conditions is you to roll down your window and spontaneously share your personal opinion about winter cyclists, or give me a naive lecture about helmets, or yell at me to get off the "#%^&*@!" road and scream at me about road use and right of way (last time I checked, the tax rate I pay for roads and infrastructure is the same as yours!!)

I supplemented my angry verbal response with an appropriately-paired hand gesture, though admittedly, since I was wearing mittens, the effect may have been lost on the guy.

Once home, I left my trusty steed to drip dry onto the floor while Simon and I walked over to the Indian place for dinner.  It (the bike, not the curry) made a pretty good mess, but was easily cleaned up with a rag and a bit of warm water after we got home.

A fun adventure for sure, but I can't say I'm not glad to be taking the bus to work tomorrow!

The research on helmet laws is clear: large-scale health benefits of cycling in any given society "far outweigh the smaller risks involved". And studies have demonstrated time and again that the "net public health outcome of helmet promotion or laws is negative."

The research on whether helmets actually save lives for bicyclists is nebulous at best; in some places medical practitioners are actually opposed to cycle helmet laws and won't endorse them at all.

And yet, over and over again, complete strangers feel compelled to lecture me about my choice to cycle without a helmet, which is my legal right in this province. My choice to ride helmet-free is an informed one; their lecture, on the other hand is not.

Case in point: while riding along Dundas on route home from school today, a woman waiting at a bus stop reached out and literally grabbed my arm while I was stopped at a traffic light. She proceeded to attempt to cajole me into wearing a bike helmet. As the light was red, I humored her, and engaged in what I hoped would be an informative dialogue; I encouraged her to visit cycle helmets.org and familiarize herself with the actual research on bike helmets.

She got right up in my face then -- her hand still gripping my arm, she gazed into my eyes, and spoke in a very serious tone: "I feel something bigger than the two of us here", she said, "I can feel it in my heart.  And it's just telling me to tell you to wear a bike helmet!"

I'll say "bigger"; It's called.............. "MARKETING," lady!!!!! (You were expecting "God", maybe?)

The subliminal power of helmet promotion, even in places where wearing a helmet is not the law, is profound: think about every ad or public notice you see with someone riding a bike in it… They're always wearing helmets! That's no accident… governments like helmet laws, it makes them look like the good guy, as though they care about your head and your health. And helmet laws are far easier "solutions" in their mind than actually committing to public education classes and city cycling programs, dedicated bike paths and other viable solutions for cyclists and those who don't want to make the car their primary source of transportation. Throw the old helmet law on the table, and the government comes off looking like they're actually doing something about safety.

Not to mention, bike shops, Canadian Tire and Walmart love an opportunity to sell you yet another accessory… Who wouldn't be convinced by "safety"?

And yet, as a teacher, if I'm trying to teach my students to be critical thinkers, then I, too, need to examine the "safety" data with a critical lens and make an informed decision, rather than one I've been brainwashed into believing is the "right" one by marketers eager to sell me something I don't necessarily need or want.

After tonight's bus stop harassment incident, I revisited one of my "go to" sites for cycle helmet research.

I am more convinced than ever that adults should have the right to choose whether or not to wear a helmet when cycling.

And for goodness sake's, people, if you're going to attack strangers about their personal choices, do us all a favor and read the research before you grab us in the street to tell us about your "higher source"!

Decided to have dinner at the lighthouse this evening... heated up my leftover squash soup (thanks, Tatsy!!) and poured it into a thermos, and packed it, along with some water and a container of leftover green and yellow salad into my bike pannier, then headed off towards the not-yet-mosquito-infested red road leading to St Peter's Lighthouse.

Soon I could spy the lighthouse in the distance, between the reeds and across the pond.  A little further on, I left my bike and hauled my dinner and the new beach chair (thank you Brenda and Wendy!!) I had fasted to my bike over the dune and onto the beach.  I got myself all set up and enjoyed a lovely dinner by the water.  My only complaint was that someone had eaten all the avocado out of my leftover green and yellow salad, and so I was feeling like a little something was missing there.  But otherwise, it was a pretty nice evening.

Dusk lasts forever on PEI, and the sky is constantly changing.  I enjoyed the beginning of sunset, then set off back home before things got too buggy!

The great thing about the Lakeshore is that it offers something for everyone -- truly, whether I turn left or right out of my building's driveway, whether I walk, bike or TTC it, I can drink tea, meet with colleagues or friends/family, shop for fresh produce, gourmet chocolate or Kleenex, drugs and toilet paper, I can swim, do laundry, eat Indian, Thai and Mexican, I can fly airplanes and more.... all along the Lakeshore!!!

person at Birds and Beans next door, I headed off in the opposite direction, to meet some fellow parents of multiples: three sets of twins and one set of triplets enjoyed an afternoon of soaking and soccer at the splashpad on Lakeshore, near Dixie.

Back at home later on, I met a friend for dinner -- Thai! Just  short walk from my building, still on the Lakeshore, in the other direction once again.

The next morning, it was off to the Airport, also along Lakeshore, to go flying...

Upon biking back home after flying, I enjoyed lunch on the balcony of my apartment overlooking the Lake and the CN Tower I had just encircled at 2000 ft., and celebrated my good fortune at having found a place to call home along the Lakeshore.

For our first family bike ride since returning from Argentina, we decided to check out the HBSCA Farmer's Market and then head over to the Island Airport for the boys' first flight with mommy as PIC!

The farmer's market was considerably more exciting than last year's attempt, with approx 25 vendors peddling everything from fresh veggies to maple cream goat cheese to cut flowers to acai berry smoothies.  

We were very impressed, and quickly unloaded the last of our weekly budget on some home-baked peanut banana chocolate chip muffins ("Mommy, this is quite possibly the best muffin I ever ate in my life", quipped Alex!), a tomato, some fresh field greens, a few pretzels and a container of stinging nettle goat cheese, most of which we packed into our bike panniers, to eat later in the day (the baked goods we devoured on the spot).

After the Market, we continued along the bike path to City Centre, or rather, to the ferry terminal at the foot of Bathurst.  Tats stayed at the playground there with one boy while the other flew with me, and then we switched.

Simon went first, so he did the walkaround with me, too -- he even climbed up to check the fuel!

The airport was super busy today with the usual weekend commercial and general aviation traffic, so we each did a few circuits, and then set off again on our bikes, to ride to the "beach playground", where we stopped and had our little picnic lunch from the Farmer's Market stuff.  Yum!

Anybody want to go flying with me???  :)))  Let me know!

I've not been sleeping much.

Apart from the endless unpacking, sorting and reorganizing of household items here in the apartment, there is the ongoing challenge of trying to remember where eight months' worth of stuff has been hidden, stored, sorted away... as someone was staying here while we traveled this past year, we elected to box up all of our clothes and personal items, leaving only furniture and basic kitchen supplies behind.

Where it all went is a mystery to me now, and it keeps me up at night, as I suddenly remember -- or think I remember -- where a certain object might be, and consider when and how we can get it back to 807.

Sure, we kept inventories... sort of.  But unfortunately, my at the time apparently scrupulous list that include such items as "Rick's - assorted clothes" and "Caley's - bike stuff" doesn't enlighten me as to which box my socks are in in the mountain in Rick's closet, or whether "bike stuff" includes a pump, or if I should better take one with me to Caley's garage, where our bikes have been living for the past several months, tires likely in need of air...

Wedged in between scheming about how to reunite ourselves with our scattered belongings are mental planning sessions to prepare several upcoming workshops I am facilitating for teachers, which I have not put together concrete agendas or handouts for yet.  This, too, keeps me up at night.

I took a break from it all yesterday, and went to my old school, to volunteer with a field trip.  I packed up a box of Alfajors to share in the staff room, and set off to the bus stop for the ride across two transit systems, to Mississauga.  (Boy, was I missing the comprehensive bus lines of Buenos Aires!)

It was so much fun to see everyone again; the students, the staff, parents... a selection of Grade 3-5 students were participating in a track meet, and I had been asked to come along as a volunteer.  Despite the threatening clouds, it turned out to be a really nice day, and I enjoyed reconnecting with everyone.

Of course, the first question people ask is "HOW WAS ARGENTINA?" often followed by "How is it, being back?"

Although I was anticipating such queries, and had thought about them at length, I had not come up with a succinct and catchy response.  I mean, how does one effectively summarize nearly a year spent on the other side of the equator?  How does one describe the feeling of being "home" again after such an adventure to those who've never left?

It seems like only yesterday we were standing, somewhat stunned and in denial, out front of our BsAs apartment with all our luggage, waiting for our remise to the Airport, or ziplining across the canopy in Salta, or staring in awe at the Falls in Iguazu, or laughing and joking with the Marias and other friends...

After several days of unpacking and fighting to figure out our wifi set up (a combination of router problems and my own stupidity resulted in 72 hours without internet access here at home!), I am drinking mate again now, and that helps considerably.

And slowly, I am getting used to paying for things with bills that aren't disintegrating in one's hands, and to not checking my pockets every thirty seconds to make sure my phone hasn't been pick pocketed (I am locking the doors now, though!)

After a few days of lurching at and then pulling back awkwardly from everyone I meet, I am remembering sooner and with greater consistency that we do not kiss friends and strangers here, and am reverting to my old habits of a smile and a friendly handshake, or the occasional hug where warranted.  That's been an unusually strange feeling; the kissing on one cheek habit was a hard one to acquire, and once programmed in, I'm finding it's a hard habit to shake.  I guess I'm innately more touchy-feely than I thought I was.

And I finally have my bike back!

I knew for sure that I was back in Toronto when -- on my way home yesterday -- I crossed the 427 bridge on the Queensway and had several people honk at me: A bike loaded down with two overstuffed panniers, a backpack, a box from the post office, and me would be irrelevant amongst the cartonaros, mopeds, and a million buses and cars on the streets of Buenos Aires; here in Toronto, such a thing stands out like a sore thumb, inviting incredulous stares from passing drivers, accompanied often by honking and the occasional outburst of profanity.

I was further reminded that I was back in Canada when -- too lazy to remove all my luggage and haul it into the grocery store with me at the end of my bike-errand run -- I left it all outside (bike was locked, mind you, but anyone could have walked away with the backpack, or unloaded the panniers and helped themselves to the contents) while I picked up a few grocery items, and, when I came out of the store, behold -- everything was still there! :D

As I wheeled my now-too-full-to-ride bike two blocks home, I glanced around and drank in the familiar sights and sounds: An abundance of grass, the Lake and waterfront trail, Mimico Square, a bird symphony...

I got upstairs to the apartment, stood on the balcony, stared out over the tree canopy that defines Toronto, and thought, I'm tired, I miss our BsAs friends and some routines there, and here I am currently feeling somewhat engulfed in a never ending "to-do" list...  But all in all, I'm happy to be home!

My first day as a non-car-owner in Toronto was a COLD one!  The icy, snow-covered city did not deter me, however, and I wrapped myself in my winter garb, and set out on my bike to face a full day of errands.

My trusty, two-wheeled steed carried me through parts of east-end Mississauga and into Toronto, as far as Roncesvalles.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the looks of disbelief I got from various people I saw in my travels today, when they discovered I had biked in such weather.  Though I will also confess that my smugness with that did little to warm my chilled bones (I was good for about two thirds of my journey, but by evening, my knees were aching, and even my warm, winter boots were starting to betray me, and my toes were getting chilled).

There were some challenges to overcome with the bike itself, too: Although I had tried to pump up my tires before I left "home" (a colleague's house in Mississauga, this week), by the time I got to Roncesvalles, it was clear that my back tire was badly in need of air. Happily, I found a bike shop which was open, and in which worked a kind fellow who blew me up.  With some more air in my tires, my speed improved considerably, though I was tired, and had the additional weight of two full paniers... and yes, I walked the bike up a hill!!!  (Oh, the shame!)

I've been a car-owner since I inherited my Mother's Honda Civic when she died 20 years ago.  But increasingly, I've become intrigued with the idea -- both financially and from an environmental perspective -- of becoming car-less.  

This year, I decided to put my money where my mouth is.  I signed the car over to Alex and Simon's dad, and we unscrewed the infamous "drrums" plates (they will live in the music cabin, in PEI, for now...) and replaced them with shiny new generic ones.

Now I have to walk, bike or use public transit.  The latter option seemed like an attractive and manageable prospect, after using bus and subway almost exclusively in Buenos Aires for three months.  Alas, I had forgotten how utterly incomplete the Toronto and Mississauga public transit systems are. :(  Nevertheless, I am determined to make this work for a minimum of one year.

At the very least, I have to make it work for another 36 minutes, in order to get home tonight!!!

We did it -- we actually made it to Morell on our bikes, to mail a letter!