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This article was published 2/9/2016 (1480 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Opinion

On the way back from a trip in the middle of August, I paused to spend two days poking around the bikeways of Minneapolis.

It was a quick visit, and uniquely inspiring; the city is thriving. What I saw there informed this week’s 49.8 cover story, which considers how our cold-weather neighbour became one of the most progressive bike cities in the United States.

With Minneapolis cycling advocate Robin Garwood as a guide, I biked some of the city’s well-knit bikeways. It was the first time in years I’ve pedalled on a street. I’m a nervous urban cyclist and, truthfully, most Winnipeg routes scare me.

I explained this to Garwood, who soothed my fears. "No problem," he said, and he was right: we cruised a route that was comfortably protected, so padded from vehicular traffic that even the most anxious cyclist (me) could feel at ease.

Garwood came to me highly recommended.

Other Minneapolitan cyclists grinned when I mentioned his name; he’d been a tireless crusader, they said. But the reason I sought him out was more specific: I knew he’d once been to Winnipeg.

In the middle of our journey, I asked Garwood about his impressions of our city. He was generous in his recollections of our cycling spirit. He appreciated the ways Winnipeg finds cultural celebration in winter. Something puzzled him, though.

"I was a bit flabbergasted by how little snow clearance was done just generally," he said. "It seemed like a lot of the residential streets just weren’t cleared at all, and the sidewalks didn’t seem to be cleared at all."

I fought to keep a straight face. If I didn’t, I might have burst out laughing. Or, true to the Canadian stereotype, perhaps I would have apologized.

So, let’s get it out now: Winnipeg is my city, and it calls to my bones. I have seen many of the world’s great cities, and loved them. Many nights, I lie awake and dream about San Francisco, Portland, Ore., and the magnificent mazes of Tokyo.

Yet each time I leave, I am grateful to return to the unvarnished rhythms of home. Winnipeg is as familiar to me as the veins in my hand, or the freckles on my arm that never fully fade in winter. This is my nest, even if it is unglamorously feathered.

The way I love Winnipeg is neither rational nor always healthy. Over the years, I have turned down appealing job offers in Toronto and Calgary. I said no for many reasons. It would take more than ambition to separate me from this city.

But to love Winnipeg is to travel with a gnawing envy. In central Minneapolis, they’ve turned rail lines into beautiful bike pathways.

In Winnipeg, we’re simmering a decades-old debate about letting people cross the street at Portage and Main.

To listen to that argument, you’d think Winnipeggers have some genetic deficiency that makes us uniquely incapable of handling the same busy intersections larger cities routinely manage. Perhaps science will find such a gene, but I doubt it.

What Winnipeg struggles with now — and has for as long as I can remember — is an apprehension to moving forward. We invest far less on infrastructure than most other Canadian cities; in 2014, Regina spent more than twice Winnipeg did, per capita.

For some reason, Winnipeggers tolerate this.

We tolerate a rail yard that severs the North End from the south, though there is a task force now to explore how to move it. We tolerate a beautiful riverwalk that spends too many of its days underwater.

We tolerate a city that sprawls out like it’s taking an afternoon nap on the sectional, heedless to how its body will ache from spreading akimbo over the available space.

We choose to tolerate bad roads and festive knots of red tape.

If we believe in Winnipeg, this will have to change.

I am not a cyclist, at least not in this city, but I recognize the difference active transportation can make to promoting a vibrant culture, which in turn promotes youth retention.

The difference between the world’s most vibrant cities and ours isn’t genetic. It’s simply while Winnipeg dithered, they opted to get it done. They managed to set aside urban and suburban differences long enough to invest in a vision.

Consider Portland. The gem of the Pacific Northwest is second only to Tokyo on a list of my most beloved destinations. The city is a delight for pedestrians, boasting a wealth of public art and colourful places to eat, shop and play.

This is no demographic or geographic accident. True, Portland has forgiving winter weather and certain natural charms. It also has a much-studied urban-growth boundary and a litany of policies that nurtured urban life and small business. I saw flashes of the same in Minneapolis last month.

It is difficult to compare Winnipeg and Minneapolis directly. Though Minneapolis proper has a smaller land area, the Twin Cities metro is a much larger and more populated region.

Still, it wasn’t easy to explore our closest major neighbour to the south — a place Winnipeggers frequently visit to shop, see a concert or just have a weekend out — and see how they have managed to seize hold of a relatively cohesive vision.

We could have that here, too, if we are willing to build it and then see it through. There is nothing stopping us, no inborn limitations. It is only a question of how much we are willing to invest, and how much imagination.

melissa.martin@freepress.mb.ca