Guest Blog by Jon

Well, this is the aforementioned Jon, debuting on Bruce's blog. I started riding with Bruce in high school, did the West Coast with him, and many long crazy rides across southern Michigan. You'll find me less of a bike theorist than Bruce, less into innovation and bike experimentation, and, perhaps, less hardy.

Where I'm at bikewise: I've been riding steadily all these years, mostly the 5.5 miles to work and back, even occasionally into the winter, but when the roads get bad, my gumption generally declines and I settle into a winter torpor that has me driving to work and just trying to get by. I had a bad bout of sciatica about two years a year ago, spent a month on the floor, saw many a doctor, and finally got some relief with physical therapy. The woman I worked with said I should get a bike with shocks and a more upright profile than my old Trek roadbike. I resisted this, my image of myself as a biker defined by a sleek, z-shaped riding posture, even if I never would be Lance Armstrong. I tried the old bike, raised the handlebars, even added an extra stem segment, but felt a suspicious little crick in the back that I didn't like. So finally I went and found a Trek hybrid, I think it's a 7300, in a big, 25 inch frame (I'm 6-2, longlegged), that I could live with, and I've been riding it and enjoying ever since.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO FAST, this is the thing I tell myself.

So I bought the bike on March 23 last year, put almost 3,200 miles on it since then, aiming for 4,000 by the 1-year anniversary. But we've had 80 inches of snow, temperatures steady in the single digits, and a couple of miserable rides home -- my chain froze a couple times, I felt nearly nauseous with cold a few times, and of course I fell hard more than once -- made it clear to me that 4,000 is out of reach.

Still, I had some transcendent rides in December and January. I work 4 to midnight, and there's nothing like coming home through the Menomonee River Valley on Canal Street, nobody out but me, fog pooling in the river cut, the world utterly different, a planet like Venus. One night wrapped in thoughts I came upon a place I didn't recognize -- big iron beams curving out of a gray soupy sky like 8-story mantis legs. I was frightened and had to stop and think. It was the stadium, its roof looming high, the lower portion barely visible. I rode through the parking lot and a different route home, grateful for such a moment.

For the time being, I'm content riding an exerbike, with my real bike in the basement, where I happily fuss with the lights and attachments. Every sunny day, every inch of snowmelt brings me closer, though, calling me back to the streets.