Nearing the End of Summer: 2020

"The morning had dawned clear and cold,

with a hint of crispness that hinted at 

the end of summer."

George Martin

 

I wake and despite tired legs, feel like riding.  I can't get enough of this weather. Yet when I leave the house, I find that, unlike yesterday, I need arm warmers, a vest, and full fingered gloves to be comfortable.  Perhaps I would wear less if I were sharing the ride with others for I would be riding faster, but that was yesterday.  Today I ride solo. And my legs are complaining.  It is my heart rather than my body that desires this ride. As I debate my choices, I decide to ride about sixty miles going through Pekin and on to Salem where I intend to eat donuts curbside for breakfast.  

 

 I think about why I can't get enough riding in this time of year.  Is it because I know what is coming, the end of comfortable, little laundry riding?  Yes, you can ride all year long in relative comfort, but it is not the comfort of grabbing your bike and slipping out the door clad only in shorts and a jersey, of knowing that other than your helmet, shoes, gloves, and sweat rag, you will be fine.  Yes, you might get hot, but there is nothing to do for that other than to endure.  And so little to wash compared to winter when it seems riding clothes make up load after load even though you actually have spent relatively little time on the road.  So much more planning revolving around winter or cold weather riding compared to the  simplicity of preparing to ride in the summer.

 

The world is still green, and today the fog is thick.  I turn on two taillights hoping that it will lift quickly.  It really doesn't, but the roads I have chosen to ride are very lightly traveled so it is not a huge issue.  I think again that it is time to buy a new helmet mirror.  The one I have is starting to move without being touched.  I can reach up and adjust it, but it does not hold the adjustment.  Normally that would be fine, but not where quick action is required.  My safety is worth more than a few dollars.  Sometimes I need to remind myself of this.  Spending a few dollars for protection is MUCH cheaper than a hospital visit, and a hospital is the last place I want to be during the age of Covid.  Next time I am at the bike store, I will buy one.  

There seems to be an abundance of wildflowers.  In the morning they are still sleeping, half closed, their petals waiting for sunlight to warm them. The Ironweed has been particularly impressive this year, its deep, dark purple a lovely contrast with the verdant greenness that still remains in places.  I think of how I need to pick a few and press them for some Christmas gifts I need to make.  I started on the first present last week.  Each year I try to give each child something hand made as well as bought presents.  Some years they obviously like them.  Some years they probably don't but try to act as if they do.  But I enjoy the effort and how it makes me think about them as I work.  

 

I notice that the polk berries are ripe.  Lines I wrote about ten years ago race through mind:  "Jeff and Tiff, The poke berries are ripe. Come home! Let's paint our faces, build a bonfire, and dance until, exhausted, we fall into the embrace of the evening cooled grasses, a heap of giggles. Today I missed you both."  How I miss those days when my husband was alive and my children were little and every moment had needs ten times greater than the amount of time would allow me to fulfill.  I miss the laughter of the children ringing through our home.  And I miss bedtime, the smell of a clean child and the feel of them snuggling in your arms, melting into you, while you read the last story for the day.  I miss the hour or so alone with my husband after the children were snugly tucked into bed.  And I miss the way sometimes we shared a thought without ever saying a word.  But I am so glad I had those moments.  I have truly been blessed with a full life.

 On the climb up Flatwoode, a road name I always find amusing due to the irony of this steep climb, I think how glad I am that Bob diagnosed my bike problem.  It is nice to be able to climb without the bike shifting down into granny ruining my rhythm and shocking my knees.  Evidently I had worn a tooth off of my middle ring.  He was unsure if he could find the part, but he did.  And it is shifting perfectly.  It will be a sad day when he can't find the parts to fix my triple.  It is not that I use it very often at all, but it is somehow comforting to know it is there if I need it.  It is also comforting to find that my legs have given in and quit complaining.  They do what they need to do to get me up the hill and I am in no hurry today.

 

Besides the cost, the thought of not getting a triple is one thing that troubles me about buying a new bike, an idea I have been toying with but keep putting off.  When is enough enough?  I notice on Delaney Park Road that the trees are beginning to hint of turning.  Leaves are starting to scatter onto the road and I amuse myself occasionally by purposefully running over one to hear the crunch.  Soybeans are starting to yellow.  Harvest approaches.  There are, however, as Paul noticed yesterday, very few walnuts.  The spring cold snap must have affected them as it did the local fruit trees.  

I end with 62 pleasant miles.  A century Saturday, 53 miles yesterday, and 62 miles today.  Perhaps tomorrow will be a rest day or perhaps the lure of the delightful weather will call me forth on my bicycle yet again.  Time will tell.