Hellllo my cherry blossoms! Like the ones in High Park, you’re out there – I just can’t see you. We went for a bike ride Sunday and you could just catch a glimpse of the Sakura trees from the Queensway. They are indeed in full bloom, and they are heartbreakingly beautiful, with clouds  of pale pink blossoms drifting along the shore of Grenadier Pond. The park itself is locked up tight as a fortress, with barricades along all four sides and police on patrol. It’s kind of surreal, and a little bit hilarious. I can’t imagine anyone risking a thousand dollar fine just to look at cherry blossoms, but the cops look like they mean business. Best to move on.

 

But hard to do, because the Lakeshore was an absolute carnival, as was the Humber River. I can’t believe how many households there are with 4 or 5 twenty somethings – I mean, they must all be living together because they sure aren’t socially distancing. People everywhere: picnicking, playing catch, sitting cheek by jowl on blankets and picnic tables. I wanted to pump my fist at them like an angry old lady, but I was there too, wasn’t I? Sure, I was on my bike, but if I really wanted to put some miles on it, I should have headed out of the city, and not down to the busiest area in town.

 

It was my first time on the bike in two years, which is to say this bike in particular, which is a road bike I got 7 years ago to do the Ride to Conquer Cancer. Road bikes, for the uninitiated, are performance or endurance bikes: they are fast, light, aerodynamic, with skinny tires and, usually, pedals you clip into with cycling shoes. They’re not the kind of bike you decorate with a basket of flowers, or pull a child behind. They can be quite intimidating. I figure I’ve put over 3000 km on my bike, and it still scares me a little. Once your feet are clipped in, you are supposedly one with the machine, but I sometimes feel I’ve strapped myself into a velocipedic missile to hell. Yes, I’ve fallen off it a couple of times, and only bruised my pride. My worst fear is taking out a small child, or careening helplessly into traffic. Honestly, between skiing and sailing and cycling, I tend to scare the poop out of myself, and I’m hardly a thrill seeker. Ian, our producer, once asked my why I make my life so complicated, and that, my blossoms, is a question for the ages.

 

Funny thing happened on the way home. John and I were riding up Roncy, and there was another man riding a regular bike not far away from us. He was talking to no one in particular, not necessarily as someone with mental health issues, but rather as a person with no filter, who just comments on anything and everything. As we passed him, he said “Will you look at the road warriors! Retired people, am I right? All the time and money in the world. Think they own the place. Out for a Sunday ride, faster than anyone else. I’ve got their number. He’s a CEO, she’s a high school principal. There they go, and to hell with everyone else” and so on and so forth. I caught up to John, laughing. I’m used to people thinking we’re older because of our hair colour, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be stereotyped as a high school principal. John, on the other hand, was quite pleased to be taken for a CEO.

 

Spring has truly sprung, and it feels like we are emerging from a scary place, but I’m worried that we are moving too quickly. It feels so good to be among other people, but is it safe? I passed another couple today and overheard the woman saying to the man “This is stupid – we know that only old people get it, right?” Wrong. We are all still at risk, especially me, as a retired high school principal.

 

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