As we arrived at Alex’s front door the odometer read 2998.34 miles since Vancouver, so close to the fortuitous, cinematic moment I’d imagined where Alex’s door would be mile number 3000.
After the puncture-ridden afternoon and lost-in-the-suburbs evening we’d had making our way to Montreal, we didn’t feel like fiddling the numbers and taking a slightly longer route to Alex’s house. Thousand-mile milestone photos are better when it’s light out, too.
Arriving in Montreal on Thursday night capped off a calendar month with only one rest day, and a daily average distance of 58.98 miles (1828.38 miles total between 11/7 and 10/8, with 120.3 the longest day and 20.36 the shortest).
Waking in Montreal on Friday morning, our legs reminded us of that fact with aches and pains that we somehow suppressed on the road. Presumably with the knowledge that we’d have to ride again the next day and that aches would only make it harder. A defence that becomes redundant and ineffective when rest days arrive.
Saturday’s 10k jog around the local landmarks (many of which are located at the top of a mountain) bolstered the aches we’d collected from riding, and gave us a few new exciting ones too. Particularly in our groins for some unknown reason.
Aches aside, resting is wonderful. We spent Friday on the sofa eating biscuits and cheese on toast and watching comedy. The weekend has involved coffee, pancakes, poutine, and lazy meandering around leafy neighbourhoods and galleries. Also a thorough rinsing by the most intense and sudden thunderstorm I’ve ever seen.
In the flat, a shower and laundry and a comfortable place to sit is available whenever we want it. The accumulated grime and grease of the road has been washed off of our skins and spattered temporarily onto the tiles and shower curtain.
Bike grease is still ground into my shorts, and walking around covered in bold stains feels less acceptable in trendy suburbs of a proudly metropolitan city than the more casual streets of a rural town.