I felt fast.
Pedaling up Williams Avenue in North Portland, I whizzed by coffee shops. I felt I had harnessed their collective caffeinated power.
That all changed when a young man in skinny jeans, no helmet and black-rimmed glasses passed me like my bicycle tires were made of cement.
Maybe he’s late for a “Portlandia” casting call, I wondered.
Humor aside, as I wobbled back to Clark County I felt humbled. New hobbies will do that.
Running has always been my exercise of choice. But as the miles and years pile up, my legs need a break from the pounding.
Cycling seemed like a good option. Like running, you’re outdoors. You have the satisfaction of completing a journey each time you head out.
The three months since buying that starter road bike have been enlightening.
Enlightenment and humility go hand-in-hand. The more you learn, the less you realize you actually know.
And being on a bike is a way to really get to know the character of Clark County.
Cycling leaves you exposed in a way other outdoor actives don’t. To do it safely requires all of your senses to be tuned in to your surroundings.
During long runs, one can zone out in an ignorantly blissful way. While cycling on a roadside, that is an invitation for disaster.
There’s no solidary escapism on a road’s shoulder. Riding alongside traffic brings you face-to-face with your fellow man.
Thankfully, most drivers in Clark County are courteous, giving wide berths as they pass.
Oh there’s the occasional jerk. Having never felt the urge to heckle a cyclist feebly trying to change a flat tire, I won’t attempt to delve into the reasons why.
But what I do know is Clark County offers enough variety to spice up any ride. There are rural routes — the wide-shouldered St. Johns Road and 72nd Avenue make north Clark County accessible. There are urban rides that connect the favorite hangouts of the bright spandex-clad weekend riders.
Taking on a new activity brings new aches and new mistakes. But those are small prices to pay for the reward of a fresh experience.
