Strava forgot me

6 06 2016

Strava has forgotten who I am.

It’s six days into June and I’ve yet to throw a leg over the Lapierre. And already my mileage barometer has forsaken me.

Dear Strava, are you so fickle you forsake me after less than a week of inactivity?

Dear Strava, are you so fickle you forsake me after less than a week of inactivity?

I’m working again. That means trying rediscover a balance between working, riding and life.

A new job means adjusting to new routines that have a ripple effect on other aspects of our busy lives, like getting Little Ring to and from daycare, when to get groceries, managing household chores, finding time to binge-watch Silicon Valley. Too frequently in the past few weeks, it’s been the riding that’s been left behind.

My mileage is taking a hit.

In the months after my newspaper closed, I settled into a pretty simple routine; I still got up at 5:30 a.m. to shower and prepare breakfast for the family, get the household going. Once their days were established, I put time into scanning job sites, targeting possibilities, preparing resumés, drafting cover letters as well as crafted stories for my various blogs and freelance accounts to maintain my writing and social media chops. If there weren’t any other pressing errands, I was then free to ride.

I did manage to join the FRF crew for one of the Tuesday night climbing rides. Except I thought they meant riding up and down local hills, not elevators!

I did manage to join the FRF crew for one of the Tuesday night climbing rides. Except I thought they meant riding up and down local hills, not elevators!

Minus the niggling little problem of no income to replenish a dwindling bank account, it was a good routine that kept the household in order, my spirits up, my legs fit and my Strava account active.

While searching for new employment, I kept an eye out for opportunities that might allow me to commute by bike. As a journalist, I’d been denied that chance my entire career because we’re pretty much on the job once we step out the door, and during the drives around town or on the way home. That meant packing along the camera gear in case I was diverted to some sort of breaking news story or last-minute assignment. Or just scheduled to cover something on my way in or from the office because it was convenient.

A number of FRF members are regular bike commuters. I look at their Strava accounts with envy; those 20 km pedals to and from work really add up. And inevitably they’re the guys off the front during our weekly recreational rides.

Family duties meant I had to miss Sunday's long ride, which included a chance to fly the FRF kit leading out the 20th annual Run Up for Down Syndrome!

Family duties meant I had to miss Sunday’s long ride, which included a chance to fly the FRF kit leading out the 20th annual Run Up for Down Syndrome!

My new gig is a 400 metre walk from home! Which is awesome! But doesn’t afford me the chance to join the bike commuting culture.

I’m four weeks into the new position and I’m still getting my legs under me. Now I just have to figure out how to get those legs pedalling more frequently.

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