“The following is for entertainment purposes only. ”

Multiple Uses

The Springwater Corridor is a multi-use path here in Portland, one of our great cross-town routes that goes on for many miles, totally separate from cars. It links into several other bike and pedestrian paths, and on it one can ride all the way out to Estacada, a small town about 30 miles south & east of downtown, and from there into the hills beyond.

In my previous post I wrote that right now the safest places to ride are NOT the bike paths. It’s safer on the roads because of the very low traffic, and the clean air. The other day, against my better judgement, I turned my bicycle onto the Springwater, which was busier than I’d expected, and I regretted not having brought my cloth mask.

Riding my bike, I thought about the physics of a virus. Not as a scientist, but as a layperson, a thoughtful cyclist. I tried factoring how near was too near to be following other cyclists when the six-foot rule is, I assume, the safe distance for people standing still, or possibly walking. But what about wind; what about motion?

There ought to be a formula, some way to calculate safe distancing with an elevated velocity, a graph for visual reference. Mathematics as a way of counteracting fear of the unknown.

Peloton

I was not the only person riding a bike on the Springwater. There were small groups of people, some joy riding, some more serious, some groups intentional, others because of the natural traffic jam of slower and faster riders.

Consider the lead rider of a pack of cyclists during this time of COVID, the exertion required to stay in the #1 position, legs burning, lungs gasping for oxygen, expelling some serious CO2, the spiny exhalations laden with contagion dripping downwind into the pulmonary sieve of the inhaling followers.

Factoring in wind dispersal at increasing speeds, and considering the huffing and puffing required to maintain high velocity, what distance could possibly be safe? The math becomes murky, convoluted, with too many variables, nuanced to oblivion.

Tunnel Vision

The number of humans walking, cycling, skating, simply breathing on the Springwater Trail conjured a vision of a localized green cloud of exhalation, a vaporous tunnel through which I traveled.

I know it’s spring, plants are in a bloom-cycle and the pollen count is through the roof. But while riding I wasn’t thinking about pollen, I was running from something much more horrifying: I imagined invisible and weightless clusters of COVID clinging in increasing numbers to my eyelashes, worming into my tear ducts, riding rivulets of sweat down to the corners of my panting mouth where my dry tongue’s tip tucked in determination, licking little droplets of destruction like a cat lapping at radiator fluid. I was trapped between exits of the Springwater Trail, there was nowhere to go but forward into my claustrophobic vision.

I pedaled furiously and my eyes became itchy, my throat raw, my rattly lungs inhaling their ruin again and again. I pictured my lungs like flypaper gathering germy gnats, parasitic mutant cells with teeth, boring holes in my chest, rapidly multiplying, trashing my insides.

Quote

From the writer Joy Williams, in her short story, The Last Generation:

“…Similes are a crock. There’s no more time for similes. There used to be that kind of time, but no more. You shouldn’t see what you’re seeing thinking it looks like something else. They haven’t left us with much but the things that are left should be seen as they are.”

The Flying Scotsman

Graeme Obree, unconventional cycling hero who once upon a time was the fastest cyclist in the world, remarked that he rode his bike at these punishing speeds because he was pursued by demons.

And it was true — he was chased by literal, bi-polar demons. His handmade bicycle, like mine, could have been faster than any bicycle on the planet, but that still would not have been fast enough. Not nearly so.

While blazing down the Springwater corridor I discovered the same kind of stuff that pushed Graeme to accelerate to his record breaking velocity: A deep existential fear with an invisible source.

Legendary

I was running like hell from something I could not escape, and in the process I invented a legend of speed in my own mind. There’s nothing like terror to motivate a person to move quickly.

Happy Trails

Maybe I’m fast, or maybe I’m just delirious with language. I won no trophy, no medal, but still, I was lucky. I made it home. I won’t forget my mask next time. And from now on I’m going to do my best to ride only on empty trails.

This is an amazing time to ride a bicycle. Stay safe out there, and choose your routes wisely.