Annis Horribilis Or An Opportunity?

Queen Elizabeth II (How often have I referred to her in this blog?) referred to 1992 as an annis horribilis.  Her Majesty likes to project an image of someone not given to hyperbole, so perhaps she was just trying to show her former tutors that she still remembered some of the Latin they taught her.

Now, to be fair, I would think it was a pretty bad year if a fire destroyed part of my house.  And I wouldn't look back too fondly on a year in which one of my relatives, however distant, committed suicide.  But the other "tragedies," which include divorces, infidelities and the like were merely instances of Royal Family members showing that, well, maybe they're not so different from the rest of us.

In comparison, many people--and large parts of the world--suffered real tragedies, mainly as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, but also because of natural disasters and other disruptions to what was considered "normal."

One can hope that the coming year will be better.  For one thing, Donald Trump lost his bid for a second presidential term.  For another, vaccines against COVID-19 are making their way into the world.  

What really gives me hope, however, is the knowledge that tragedies and disasters are opportunities to learn, and there are always resilient people. (Meeting Cambodians who survived the Pol Pot regime and Greeks who have come through wars, invasions and economic crises taught me much about both.)  One example of resilience includes the people who got on their bikes during the pandemic, when mass transit systems shut down or cut back their services and other forms of recreation weren't available.  I hope that the new "bike boom" shows planners, policy-makers as well as ordinary citizens that the future need not (actually, can't) be as auto- and fossil fuel-centric as the past century or so have been.  

If nothing else, I hope this year helps us to learn that we must--and, I believe, can and will--learn and change.

Roy Wallack R.I.P.

One more day!  

That's what remains, after today, of 2020.  For many of us, this year can't end quickly enough.  In addition to the pandemic, natural disasters and all of the other awful events of the world, it seems that so many people (at least of the ones I know) have suffered some tragedies, disasters or setbacks of one kind or another. Or we had plain and simple bad luck:  After nearly half of century of cycling with no serious accidents (a wrecked bike and a few minor injuries), I was--in little more than three months' time--face-planted  and doored.

The face-plant left me with head trauma that, fortunately, didn't result in permanent damage.  I wish I could say the same for Arielle, the bike that started my Mercian obsession.  The dooring didn't do much harm to Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic, but left me with a whole bunch of stitches, a strained muscle and sprained knee.  I'm just starting to get my energy back.

Roy Wallack (right) with Gordon Wright during the 2008 TransRockies Run.

Things could have been worse, though.  On Saturday the 19th, Roy Wallack rode his mountain bike down a steep trail near Malibu, California. He took a fall--no one is sure of how or why, but friends who were riding with him say that it might have been caused by a medical issue.  Whatever the circumstance, the fall resulted in Roy's head hitting a large rock.  

His friends, an EMT and cardiologists who happened upon the scene performed CPR on him until a helicopter arrived.  The rescuers' attempts to save him were for naught.

A terrible irony of that crash is that Wallack hired a personal trainer for his father who "has no disabilities and comes from a long line of centenarians" but whose "problem" was "obvious":  the Easy Boy chair he "hadn't left.. in 30 years (except for Costco and cleaning up in the yard after the dogs)."  The trainer called Wallach's 90-year-old father to urge him onto the treadmill as he's been housebound by COVID-19.

Roy, who intended to ride, run, swim and participate in other outdoor adventures on his way to becoming the latest in his family's line of centenarians, only made it to 64 years old.  But his time was certainly a journey:  While he didn't have the archetypal body of a cyclist or runner, he pedaled Paris-Brest-Paris and many other rides, ran marathons and participated in all manner of outdoor sports, sometimes competitively but more often for the adventure. 

That is what made his writing--for publications such as Bicycling, Runners' World, Bicycle Guide and Outside; and in his books and the Los Angeles Times' Outdoor section--so engaging.  He wrote the way he approached cycling, running and other outdoor activities:  as an adventurer and enthusiast rather than as a "jock." He rarely wore lycra; in the baggy shorts he usually wore, wannabe racers might have seen him as a "Fred."  To me, though, he embodied and expressed the essence of what makes cycling, running, hiking and other outdoor sports lifetime activities rather than games that can be experienced only as a spectator after one reaches a certain age.

Where They Bike More

 Would you bike more in Baltimore?

I would, if I ever get to "Charm City" again--especially after seeing this:

The folks at Bikemore are offering it.  What could possibly be a better name for a bicycle advocacy organization?

I wonder, though, whether they pronounce it as Bike-a-more?