It is the plight of a bike commuter in the winter that there are at least 20 different items that need to be prepared in the morning before the bike can be ridden. And although I have done this for such a long time now, I still find that I tend to forget key items.
This forgetfulness is a real pain in the butt, since I am usually fully dressed … boots and all … when I discover it. Then, I am left with the choice: do I tromp through the house in my boots and risk dirtying up the floor, or do I call to my wife and ask her to help me out? (Notice that one of the options is not to take off the boots. Once they are on, nothing could compel me to take them off again!) Nine times out of ten it is the latter option, which must be absolutely exasperating for my wife. I am sure she is wondering how I could forget something when I perform these tasks day in and day out, for months on end.
I would like to blame it on my inflated intelligence. You know, like I am the absent-minded professor whose mind is so consumed by high-level problems that there is simply no room for such mundane things like making sure I bring my glove liners. But alas, I am just an average man with average intelligence (on good days), and my mind is actually fully focussed on the task at hand. I really am trying to remember all of the little details required for my commute, and when I forget one of them, I sadly have no excuse.
So, after suffering such mental lapses multiple times, I decided that I needed to come up with routines that are Phil-proof, sequences of action that flow logically and that would make it impossible for me to forget something.
The first routine is done in the bedroom. It is vital that I pack all of the clothing I will need for work and for my morning workout, because once I get to the school, I will never be able to come back and grab something. So, I have adopted the head and shoulders, knees and toes routine. No, I am serious. I point both fingers at my head, and then I work my way downward, making sure that I remember my work shirt, my underwear, and my socks. (I keep the pants at work, where they remain until the end of the year.) Then, I go back up to my head and work down again, but this time for my workout stuff. I visualize my workout shirt, my underwear, my socks, and a towel (yes, the towel does not relate to a body part, so it is the most likely to be forgotten). These are all then stored within a plastic bag and brought down to the front door, ready to be stored within my backpack.
The second routine occurs in the basement region of our house, where my bike shop and office happen to be. In my bike shop, I purposefully circumnavigate the room in a counterclockwise direction from the door and make sure I grab all the items in the order that I see them. On the hangers above the washer and dryer, I grab my winter cycling pants, my cycling shorts, my winter coat, and my neck gaiter. Then, I take the skull cap that is hanging from my vice, I take the glove liners hanging outside my glove box, and I pick up the cycling glasses that are on my shop desk. Then, I take my helmet and backpack down from the wall hooks, I grab my boots from the floor near the furnace, and finally, I bring down my mitts from the hooks behind the door. This is a complete counterclockwise sweep, and at the end of it, I need only grab my bike from the bike office and I am ready to go.
It is a bit shameful that I need to do such foolish routines in the morning, but in total honesty, it is a big relief to fall back on this. I find myself much more confident and relaxed when I have these procedures in place, procedures that do not rely on my faulty mind for their success.
Phil-proof, right?
Well, not so much. Although such routines have improved my success rate appreciably, they are as of yet not perfect. Every once in a while, I will still manage to screw it all up. How? Well, the method requires that I scrupulously examine each part of the bike shop as I move around in a counterclockwise direction, but there are times when I will do it mindlessly, and as such, I might completely glance over the glove box or the backpack storage area. Then, once again, I will be fully dressed for my ride and I will realize that I am gloveless and backpack-less. It is demoralizing!!!
But let’s face it. It is the best solution for my particular problem, and when I fail (which I will inevitably do), I can only resolve to do a better job on the next day and pay closer attention to the process. And really, what else can we ask of ourselves but to try to do better tomorrow?
Just like there is no bike lock that is truly invulnerable to thieves, there is no routine that I could develop that would be entirely Phil-proof, impervious to my periodically thoughtless nature. Well, except for one. If I gave this task to my wife, she would remember everything … every single time. But considering that she already does almost everything for me already, I think it is important that I continue to strive to do this alone. And be prepared to eat humble pie that next time I have to call her to grab the plastic bag that, although is properly filled with my work and gym clothes, is still sitting beside the bed, forgotten by me as I left the bedroom. I can already see her at the top of the stairs, shaking her head. Sorry, honey.
Phil Goldthorpe: Views from the Passenger Seat 