Uphill Both Ways
How Bike Commuting Transformed my Life
I didn’t want to win the Tour de France, I wanted enough money to buy a laptop.
In 2018, I found myself starting from scratch in my life, with the goal of earning enough money to move from Minnesota to Los Angeles for a fresh start. Staying with family and beginning a new life of sobriety, I didn’t know exactly what to do next. I did know that I needed to claw back my independence by any means necessary, and that meant a way to get around other than operating family vehicles on the verge of dereliction.
Biking (I was nowhere near saying “cycling” at this point) was the clear life raft in a sea of the unknown, and the practical path to getting to my new three jobs serving, catering, and dog walking as I saved up to reclaim my dignity and my future. The obstacles and triumphs I experienced over the next year brought me confidence, joy, health, and abundance in ways available to anyone looking for fulfillment in their life. May my gear, challenges, rewards, and breakthroughs be a guiding marker on the road for those looking to cruise in a new direction.
The KHS Urban Extreme bike I purchased cost over a thousand dollars - more than I paid for my current car. As I left Recovery Bike Shop in Minneapolis, my heart fluttered and my stomach warmed as I checked my bank app to confirm that I had in fact just dropped about one third of my entire checking account. Primarily a used bike shop, I had snagged the one brand new matte painted steed available. A “commuter” style bike with drop bars and a sturdy frame, this was a solid option for heavy use.
The salesperson shot me a look when I mentioned I would be going to work through the snow, and we proceeded to equip my ride with several accessories I had to google when I got home. We added a used rack installed above the back wheel to which I later attached a Banjo Brothers waterproof pannier. With a pronunciation as versatile as its uses, this type of bag held my groceries, which all had to pass my new Worth-the-Weight test. I swapped out the sleek saddle for some added physical and spiritual cushion. Studded tires would dig into the ice beneath snow more effectively than their trendy “Fat” counterparts, and I was advised that a Krytponite U-Lock was essential. Front and back lights and a water bottle mount from Target rounded out my hardware, leaving my attire as the next frontier.
“Kit” is what the British guys I found on YouTube called a cyclist’s attire.
Their show “GCN” became a gentle source of comfort. I watched blokes cut it up about epic destination rides and shattering world records, then biked off to buy sparkling water and chocolate after earning 30 dollars from a lunch shift. Winter and its cold and snow loomed as one of the larger obstacles to my own “kit” and lifestyle, demanding function over fashion in my choices.
Layers were the name of the game; as you gain steam on the road, so does your body. Snow pants from Walmart and a thrifted Marmot jacket completed my outer shell. Leather Black Diamond gloves were a godsend from the lost and found at the restaurant. My face and my feet were the tricky areas - I ended up with a combo of plastic bags, socks, hiking boots, and the occasional hand warmer to keep my toes toasty. A 20-dollar turltlefur tube from TJ Maxx may have been the get of the year, which I then covered with a heavy knit scarf. Fog is the perpetual enemy of eyewear, and $1.oo utility glasses from Goodwill proved more effective than the pricey snowmobiling goggles I tested. My bargain helmet went over an Outdoor Research beany, also thrifted, and completed the ensemble. I would NOT be dubbed “all the Kit, not for Sh*t!” — partly because my kit was questionable, and mostly because I was riding for real. On hot summer days I would take my shirt off and wrap it around the frame. A bandana under the helmet, especially for someone with a polished dome like me, is invaluable.
The day it was -51° I went to the library only to see the sign “CLOSED – Pipes Frozen.”
On the way someone yelled,“You’re Crazy!” at me from their yard. I cannot wait to tell my grandchildren that story. It would sometimes take me 2 hours each way to get to the restaurant in Wisconsin.
The key aspect of that journey was crossing the bridge over the river. If the snow was fresh and deep, that meant carrying my bike over my shoulders through the powder, often hardened by the sludge tossed off of the highway by passing plows. One morning I punched my way over the bridge, and saw a state worker arrive to plow the path just as I reached the other side. I promptly called the Departments of Transportation for both MN and WI, both of whom seemed to be more concerned with auto traffic than my inquiries about pedestrian routes.
Time management was a massive weather-dependent consideration. Snow meant at least double the commute and maybe declining a catering job, and changing clothes at different jobs was a learning experience. I would pre-fold shirts and make sure to pack fragrance. “Can I change in the bathroom?” was my main inquiry when I reached a certain stage of the interview process. A major challenge was turning down family help if it meant continued reliance or dependence - instead asking for help from trusted sources…or a stranger offering a lift up the hill. I got to know the guys at the local bike shop, who helped me choose a new back wheel after they showed me I blew out most of the spokes on my back one. The physical exhaustion that can come from this type of life can also make you question your choices every time you touch the pedal.
Nothing can compare to the feeling of contentment I had after biking all over hell in the freezing cold to earn money, stand up for my autonomy, prepare a hot meal after a hot shower, and sink into the futon with Shadow the cat by my side as I looked at a map of LA with GCN on in the background.
I found that while biking, I was able to allow myself to remember traumatic events, consider scary decisions, and generally reach conclusions in a way that provided insulation from the usual anxiety, fear, and doubt that usually accompanied those thoughts. One night after pushing through burning quads to make it up the last big hill, I was absolutely spent and wasn’t sure if I could make it home. From the top of the hill I saw the bright moon illuminating the entire sleeping town, beckoning me to come the rest of the way home. I nicknamed one path “Rainbow Road” after the magical level on Mario Kart, because the complete silence, glowing snow, and total darkness that surrounded my narrow beam of light felt like a different reality. When I would get home at the end of the day, I had no car, no girlfriend, no career, and no idea what to do with myself. I had never been happier in my entire life.
Whether it is a radical lifestyle pivot or an environmental choice, bike commuting is something to be considered seriously be anyone looking for positive growth.
Perhaps the most encouraging aspect of my story is that I chose to do it in an area that made absolutely no sense. Perhaps for some out there an incremental approach is more accessible, putting the bike in the “boot” for the drive home from the office. Maybe an electric bike can get the job done. Maybe bike commuting doesn’t sound like it “makes sense” for a certain situation.
It does make sense to stake a claim, to stand in your power, to make a choice and then figure out the details later. I saved money, reduced pollution, gained humility, and got into the absolute best shape of my life. I looked into the mirror after downing 2 chocolate bars a night and was surprised to see a six pack. I had always thought that winter was something to be conquered and dreaded. The deafening silence of a snowy field lit up by the moon taught me the seasons are a beautiful gift to be embraced.
When I did catch a ride in a car, I could have cried as I marveled at the speed and comfort of something I took for granted. Many people told me they were inspired by me, which was encouraging as I emerged from a period of personal shame. I owe my life to that five-star commute under the night sky.
