One day on my ride in, I met a co-worker who was also cycling. We began chatting and I learned that not only was the man I had previously only exchanged nods with in the hall named Chris, but that he had at one time worked in Toronto. In fact, that was where he began cycling to work. I was impressed. Of course I was curious whether he had biked in the winter, but he was quick to tell me that it was only a summer thing. After all, who would cycle in Canadian winter? That's when I told him about Richard.
My father has been cycling to work since his bum knees kept him from jogging and he noticed a little more volume around his waist line than he cared for. Soon, he was cycling Spring, Summer and Fall. He even had his children ride with him to work when they helped out at his office in the summer.But as soon as the snow fell, he felt the pudge began to creep back. The year of the Olympics in Lillehammer, Richard had an epiphany. While watching one of the events he reasoned, if these athletes could train year-round and perform their sport in the winter, why couldn't he?
To put this in context, I should tell you that my father lives with my mother in Sudbury, Ontario, which is 400 km north of Toronto. It is cold there in the winter and there is a lot of snow. My father was undeterred by the weather. Donning his ski outfit, complete with goggles borrowed from my younger sister (hot pink) and a snowboarding helmet, he set off on one of his heavier bikes, equipped with snow tires.
The weather conditions aren't the only thing that is adverse in Northern Ontario, so are the attitudes of its residents. This is a place where I saw a comic who had the following bit in his act:
Down in Toronto, if you see a guy biking in the winter, you think, "Good for him", "What an athete!". In Sudbury, if you see a guy go by on his bike in the winter, you think, "Oh, Joe lost his license again. That drunk. I told him not to drive home. That must be his third DIU now."
I wonder how much ribbing my father had to endure to keep up his beloved cycle to work. Richard was such an eccentric sight on his bicycle in the winter that one of the local newspapers did a piece about him. Of course, Richard insisted that the reporter test out his route to get the full experience. I pitied that poor woman - my father's route is hard enough in the summer when you are in shape. I can only hope he didn't make her brave Cardiac Hill.
On Monday, Chris stopped me in the hall after our usual exchange of nods to tell me that he had told someone else about Richard. During one of his teleconferences to a colleague in Canada the subject of cycling came up. He accepted a bit of praise for cycling here in San Diego, but then jumped in with the tale of a man in Northern Ontario who cycled to work, get this, in the winter.
I can only hope that one day someone will tell me the Legend of Richard upon finding out that I am Canadian or that I cycle to work. Even better would be to overhear a young cyclist telling a buddy the tale of a man in Canada who bikes in the winter as they ride by me. Best of all, though, would be if someone told Richard the Legend of Richard, not knowing, of course, that he is The Richard.
