Lost in October

"September is my favourite  month,

particularly in Cornwall.  I felt, even

as a child, that if you get a wonderful day in

September, you think: This could be one

of the last.  The summer is nearly over.

When you get a wonderful day in May, you

think: So, there's more coming."

Tim Rice 

 

It is not September here in Indiana, but October, but the feelings of Mr. Rice hold true.  Today the sun is shining and it is warm enough that shortly I will be riding in  just a sports bra, jersey, shorts, light head covering, and gloves.  The blue of the sky is exquisite and the sun bright.  But tomorrow could be different.  What has been give can easily be taken away.  I head out on the Surly looking for some gravel despite the drought and the dust I know will be waiting.  

 

I am unsure why I pick the Surly, but it allows me more freedom to explore with its wider tires and ability to take some gravel.  I don't care for the thick, large gravel, but more because of the stress on older joints than the fear I used to have of falling.  With gravel, I have found that the words of Steve Rice hold true.  It is better and easier to go faster throwing caution to the wind.  So when I reach Wascum Road, I put my weight on the back tires, loosen my grip on the handlebars, and pedal as hard as I can while still being comfortable and not going anaerobic.   

I reach the point where I had to turn around the other day and think how glad I am to have this entire day to play with:  no other place to be and nothing that presses to be done.  Time is, indeed, a gift.  And the bicycle and lovely fall scenery helps me leave my troubles and worries behind in the dust.  

Farmers are hurriedly making use of the spate of good weather to gather crops, but this means at  places large clouds of dust as I pass fields that are being worked.  I am glad that I have my neck gater and pull it up as I  pass by.  I laugh when I reach to get a drink and get grossed out by the dust that has collected on my bottle, wipe it  off, and drink knowing that I need to stay hydrated.  At times, I pull off the road to allow farm vehicles unfettered access without having to worry about a cyclist claiming "her right" to the road.  My day is for pleasure.  Their day is more important:  feeding a hungry world.  I just heard on television about expected food shortages this year that includes corn and tomatoes, and in my mind I issue a thank you for their attempts to mitigate this shortage.  

I also think how farming is still mainly dominated by men.  Occasionally I will see a woman helping in the fields, but not today.  Since it looks to me, an outsider and not a farmer, like most of what is being done is driving trucks and farm machinery, I wonder why and really reach no good conclusion except, perhaps, tradition and farms, perhaps, being left more often to men as heirs rather than women.  When I worked at the horse farm, I often drove the tractor to bush hog and kind of enjoyed it as the grass and weeds feel sway to the tractors dominion, but only briefly tamed.  But then I remember as a child, my brothers were taught to drive and were allowed to drive the lawn tractor.  As a girl, I was not permitted to do so.   Our home had fairly strict divisions of labor, and they were determined by gender not abilities.  

I begin to reach roads where I must make decisions about which way to go while being not quite sure where each road will lead.  I try to go basically west or south, but sometime the road fools me turning and taking me north.  And I wander and decide until I realize that I have absolutely no idea where I am.  I am gloriously lost knowing that eventually I will find a highway that will tell me where I am or I can use the Wahoo to retrace my route.  

I really have enjoyed my Wahoo for club riding and rides where there is a prescribed course, but when I wander I miss my Garmin.  It is nice to have street names when you wander, and Wahoo only has names for roads if they are a predetermined course.  And while it has a retrace route function, it does not, at least that I have figured out, have a return to start with the option of using another route.  But Wahoo is what I have and until it breaks I don't have to make a decision about what to purchase next.  

As I begin to climb, having left farm roads behind, I notice how beautiful this road is with the trees overhanging and steep drop offs on the side.  The sides of the road are golden with leaves that have fallen yet there are still leaves on the trees in all their different colors ranging from brown to red to orange to yellow.  The wind is rather strong causing leaves to swirl down and the modest grade allows me to play my traditional game of crunching leaves with my tire.  

I laugh coming upon a chair chained to a tree alongside the road.  Behind the tree is a sheer drop off.  Above the chair is a sign announcing it is for sale.  The tree and land or the chair?  What, I wonder, is for sale.  When I stop to grab a photo, I also find that I have no cell service, something happening more and more to me these days.  I suspect my old phone is to blame, but I am not quite sure.  Another purchase I will soon need to make while prices on everything skyrocket.  

At the top of the climb I come upon a small store that I recognize and would have bet had gone out of business due to the Pandemic.  The one time I stopped previously, a number of years ago, the proprietor seemed ancient.  It is just an old shed that sits outside of a house and it didn't have much then.  I don't expect much now but hope for at least a drink because, carelessly, I did not bring food and am rather low on water.  The "open" sign blinks in bright red flashes so I go inside.  The lights are on but nobody is manning the store.  I shout hello a couple times thinking perhaps she is in back, but I get no answer.  I think about leaving a couple dollars and grabbing a drink out of the refrigerator, but I am not really comfortable doing that so I go outside on the porch.  After fiddling with my bike for a short period of time,  I leave when nobody has appeared.  

About a mile down the road, I see a sign for Delaney Park and, grateful to leave a main road, head down Rooster Hill to the road I had hoped to return home on.  As usual, Delaney Park and Eden do not disappoint.  The trees shimmer in the wind and the colors soothe my soul. Squirrels make rustling noises in the leaves scampering to prepare for winter, crossing the road mindless in their hurry causing me to be extra cautious. I giggle thinking of a commercial I once saw that said something about the only  real difference between a squirrel and a rat is their furry tail and asking if the tail makes much of a difference.  And it does. 

 

 I ride miles without seeing a car or another human being and I think how lucky I am to have access to this.  The only disturbing thing I come across is more logging which I think was happening on park land and a for sale sign on acreage up the road that I worry will be bought by someone who wants to cut down all the trees. 

 

Summer has been officially over for awhile.  And we have had unusually cold weather.  We even had a snow that covered the ground, beautiful in its own way but not yet welcome. But that, combined with the coming weather, makes today more special as I soak in the autumn beauty and calm peace of being on a bicycle with no demands on time, pace, or course.   I can't say that fall is my favorite season for I truly adore spring and how the earth yawns and awakens graciously strewing green and colored flowers throughout the landscape.  But I don't think I could ever get enough days like today.  And I am grateful and give thanks. 

The Unexpected: It Happens

 "Life is all about the unexpected."

Vernon Davis

 

 There are those days when, no matter how you fight it, your plans aren't going to come to fruition.  Today was one of those days.  In the early morning, when light hit, I took off on the Lynsky toward Bethlehem for the festival there.  Last year I rode with the Madison Club, but this year it was a sponsor ride and since I have not  yet officially joined that club, it did not seem right to attend as if I was.  Besides that, I want no demands on my pace today.   I am looking forward to taking my time and enjoying the beauty of this fall, for it has been, thus far, a particularly charming fall this year, with fine if rather chilly temperatures and spectacular colors.  

I turn around about three fourths of a mile in deciding I need an additional layer to be comfortable, grab my jacket and head back out.  About a half a mile down the road I shift.  Nothing happens.  Well, something happens.  My shifter freezes in the shift position, something I have never had happen to me or witnessed happening to anyone else. 

So, instead of heading to Bethlehem, I am off to Clarksville Schwinn hoping that Bob will be able to fix my bike.  He shakes his head and says not today, so I sadly leave it there heading home.  

I decide that I have other bikes and while it is too late to ride to Bethlehem without pushing my pace or running out of daylight, I take the Surly and head out to find some gravel.  Eden Road is alive with color and at the split off of Wascum, I take the lane that never appears to be a road but is.  It is a bit rougher than the other gravel, but the road itself is worth it. 

I am just thinking that I will make a day of it and ride further than intended when I get a text from the man working on my house that I need to come back.  So I turn around, sad but happy I at least got a few miles in and didn't waste an entire fall day.  As I head in, I realize my legs are more tired than I thought so perhaps it is not a bad thing.  

 

One of the hardest things I have found about exercising and aging is trying to tell the difference between necessary rest and being lazy.   And I decide that with riding a century on Saturday and century on Tuesday and fifty three miles on Thursday, I am probably really tired and need rest in a way I did not when I was younger.  

 

 

This leads to thoughts of aging and how it bothers us so much in this country to be old, as if it is a fault instead of a blessing that has been bestowed upon us.  I briefly wonder if it is that way everywhere. I can't say I like all the changes that age brings, but it is what happens unless you die and not a shameful thing but a natural thing.  To be ashamed of age is the same as being ashamed of  your eye color or your height,  utterly ridiculous. I can't say I glory in.  I rue my waning strength, the changes in my body, my lagging memory and thought processes, the wrinkles that surprise me in the mirror, the gradual graying of my hair.  But I try not to be ashamed and to remember that age is a blessing denied to some and to accept the changes that time has wrought.  I'm not always successful, but I try.

 

In the end, it has been a good day.  There is sunshine, and trees that shimmer with color as they dance their final dance with this years clothing before saying farewell.  Life is, overall, good, and I am thankful even if days don't always work as I planned.  Mr. Davis is, indeed, right.  Life certainly is about the unexpected. 

Medora Goes PInk 2022

"The first breath of Autumn was 

in the air, a prodigal feeling, a 

feeling of wanting, taking, and 

keeping before it is too late."

J. L. Carr 

 

Medora Century......it always is a rather poignant time, falling as it does on the second week-end of October to celebrate Medora goes pink, and signaling the coming end of comfortable riding.  Yes,  one can ride all winter long.  I did it for years.  And I still ride sometimes in the winter cold.  But it is not the same and does not hold the same freedom that a summer ride does clad only in shorts and jersey and with long hours of sunlight that allow for lollygagging.  Medora, since it started going pink in October,  always brings an awareness to me of how fragile our lives are as well having lost two grandmothers to breast cancer and with my mother having had breast cancer though surviving.  

The Medora rides started many years prior to the festival start and also brings happy memories, and I feel certain that today's ride will be no exception.  I have ridden there with so many people and have seen so many changes within the town.  I remember a winter ride with Grasshopper, and how as we sat and ate our sandwiches, snug and warmed by the inside of the long defunct store as well as our friendship, the snow began to fall, flakes as big as my hand driven sideways by a strong wind, and we wondered about making it home. I remember showing the bridge to Greg Z. when he came to visit and how the main road was closed so we found a way that contained gravel yet he did not complain.  I remember the year some of the riders decorated and wore bras outside their jerseys, including some of the men.  I remember the years riders rode the barrel train in town.  I remember the many, many times I helped first time century riders finish and sharing their elation at their accomplishment, for a century, no matter how easy, is still an accomplishment. 

I change the start time due to the unexpected cold weather and wheels don't roll until 9:00.  It is, indeed, the first breath of Autumn. I don't know it this will help or hurt attendance, but it will certainly make the ride more pleasant for me.  I am not sure how many will show, but I do learn that there will be riders from Riddenfadden and SWI along for ride.  And it turns out to be a nice turnout though smaller than many times in the past.  22 riders turn out for a glorious fall day that, while cool, will be filled with sunshine.  Larry Preble, Tom Hurst, Amelia Dauer, Mark Peterson, John Pelligrino, Dave King, Bob Grable, Fritz Kopatz, Paul Battle, Steve Puckett, Tom Askew, Dee Schreur, Jessie Dietrich, Tony Nall, Steve Meredith, Jonathan Lichensteiner, Jonathan Wineland, Peggy Bannon, John Mahorney, Thomas Nance, and Beth Niccum.  Some I know, some I don't.  Regardless, all are welcome.  Smiles seem to dominate and the chatter is upbeat and falls like music on my ears.  This will, I feel certain, be a glorious day.

At the ride start, I find out that the Chicken Chase, a road race, has been scheduled for the same day.  Not only is it scheduled for the same day, but it has the same start time and the same first few miles of the course.  It slows us for a bit when the sweeping vehicle blocks our path, but he allows us around.  I try to encourage the runners/walkers and to be courteous as we pass.  Hopefully they don't mind our passage.  

 

As I expect, the crowd rather quickly divides into groups.  I stay in the back as I will throughout the ride, sweeping.  Sometimes sweeping can be a chore, a struggle to find conversation with people I don't know well, a struggle against personal needs and wants, but today is a pleasure.  For once, there is little wind, for wind often is the nemesis of this route turning what should be a fairly easy ride into a battle.  And despite the chilly start, a quick warming.  Ideal cycling weather.  

At the slower pace, I am able to nice the contrast of the trees, some fighting to maintain the illusion of green summer and some yielding to oranges, yellows, browns, and reds.  When there is a gust of wind, at a  point in the route where there are trees instead of fields, small leaves flutter to the ground giving a festive feel to an already festive ride.   I try to register each beautiful thing I pass to hold close in the coming winter, to cling to when it seems the sky will never be blue again and the sun will never share his warmth but will continue to give me his cold shoulder.  And Carr is right, I want and want and perhaps even need without being really sure of what it is that I want and need, just knowing that it is something.   And knowing that I will blink and the trees will be bare, many bicycles will be put up, and I will still feel as if I missed it, as if I missed something. 

It seems like a short time when we arrive at the covered bridge, but the first group is already coming back through having eaten and returning to the stop.  Larry takes a photo of us at the bridge and makes the comment about the photo being "Medorable" causing long though good natured groans to emerge from the crowd along with a few giggles.  Thomas comments that Larry must have thought that up last night and been saving it for just the right moment.  They tease me about some woman in Medora asking about me and saying I am there every year. And then we are off.  They head home, three of us head to the festival and to find some lunch.   

 

I am hungry as I had only an apple and some V8 for breakfast knowing that the food here would not be healthy and would be calorie laden.  Since Scotland, I have struggled to lose the weight I gained and winter will not help that struggle as cold weather causes cravings for comfort foods rather than salads and veggies.  I get my usual sandwich and sit where I can bathe in the sunlight for a bit before swinging my leg back over the bike.  As we leave, I try to remember the first rides where i put the initial Medora course together, but my memory fails me.  I remember plenty of rides to Medora, with others and solo, but that ride escapes me.  

We are rather slow on the way in and I wonder if anyone will be waiting to join us for   pizza, but there are a few that have stayed and chatted waiting for us.  The pace is fine, however, and worth the elation I see on Beth's face when she finishes and makes it up the last climb without walking. We all go to have pizza despite Dave's disappointment that the restaurant does not have beer and there is laughter and fellowship.  Henryville is a small town and for the first time it hits me that there is no liqueur store in the town and no bar.  I don't think the grocery sells alcohol either despite the fact I know it is not a dry county.  Rather interesting and probably saves the town from some problems it might otherwise have, but also affecting the economy.  For booze is popular.  

I don't know what  the ride was like for most of the people today, but I hope it was as nice a day for them as it was for me, that they drank their fill of sunshine and the last of summer/first of autumn, that they got something to "keep" before it was too late.  And I wish them memories to warm themselves with when the winter that is fast approaching arrives. 

STORY CENTURY IN THE FALL: UNPLANNED BLESSINGS

"I remember it as October days

are always remembered, cloudless,

maple flavored, the air gold and

so clean it quivers."

Leif Enger 

 

I like to try to ride all my century routes at least once yearly, but despite being retired, between tour stages and doing Jon's centuries and age and increasing recovery time needs, I find it is not always happening. Perhaps sloth also enters into the equations.  Regardless, it is what it is.

 

 Story is one of my favorites.  Not necessarily because of the roads.  Some of the roads, particularly at the start, get a bit boring with miles of crops, but because of the destination.  Something about the old, pretty much abandoned, small town of Story with its outdoor dining and rustic atmosphere draws me.  

Despite the wind prediction, it is best to ride it on Sunday as there is road construction that I may have to route around if it is impassable and the outside dining and music is only available on week-ends.  Passage also is easier on week-ends when road workers are at home.  Some will  let me pass.  Others are determined not to do so even if there is a clear path through. And so last minute I shoot an email to Jon telling him what I am doing and that if he wants to join me he is welcome.  I get an email back that he does want to ride.  While I intend to ride anyway, it will be nice to have company on the journey.  

The day dawns with a chill, colder than normal but not as cold as it has been. It is fresh and inviting, this crispness that often comes with fall despite knowing what comes after.  I know I will be shedding layers to remain comfortable so don a backpack. I also know I will not be freezing at the start as happens with winter rides.  The sky is blue and the sunshine is bright.  We head off pedals briskly spinning as we warm our legs for the task ahead. 

As we ride, I am glad that the wind will be in our face on the way out and not most of the way back, for it is strong.  At one point, Jon mentions that flags are flying straight out, often an indicator of 20 mph. Regardless, it is hard work, this pedaling into the wind.  I laugh as we come upon a kettle of vultures, some sitting on the roof, telling them it is not yet time.  During our ride, we will pass three to four kettles and I jokingly tell Jon I will need to change the name of the ride to the vulture ride.  Perhaps they know, somehow, about the increasing difficulties of these rides, how they stretch me not only  physically but mentally, but how I love them.  

As always, during the ride I will think of times and people  I have ridden this course with in the past.  Bill Pustow comes to mind.  It was a nice day, that day, just Bill and I.  And Mark Rougeuz and Paul Battle one time, Mark pushing the pace as he always does while Paul and I desperately try to keep his wheel, hearts pounding, legs pushing, breath rasping.  And more.  One reason I keep this blog is to remind myself of miles and of people I have shared them with knowing that a day will come when I or they will stop riding, when I will grieve the loss of them because not all losses are due to death though that is always a possibility.  Sometimes I wonder if there is, indeed, an afterlife, as I believe, do we keep our memories?  If so, do they still remain special.  For I have loved so many of those I have ridden with, the warmth of their company, the stories they  have shared, the laughter we have indulged in.  But like the leaves in autumn, I let go while holding the memory of those blessed moments. Still, they are all blessings that have enriched my life and for which I give thanks. 

I wonder as we approach Freetown if the Dollar Store will have put the small store, Denny's, out of business.  But it has not.  Denny's is open and business is brisk. I rejoice and will gladly pay a bit more to keep these small stores in business.  According to the sign, Denny's has been there and in business since 1946.  I think of Thomas Nance saying that it was his belief that we have been our own worst enemies in this area, buying from bigger stores to save a dollar or two and helping them put the small business out of business.  And I think he has a point. 

 

 The road out, often one that has some traffic on it, is lightly trafficked due to road closures.  Along the edge of the roads, I begin to notice more leaf changes. It is beautiful but holds an element of sadness knowing that short, dark, and cold days are on their way.  But today is not a day for sadness.  It is a day for rejoicing with sun that still speaks of warmth, bicycles, blue skies, and company that I enjoy.  

At one point, I tell Jon how one of the things that bothers me about aging is that I need more rest, and that there are days like today where when I don't use the day actively but resting there is a feeling of wastefulness.  Perhaps because age makes us more aware of how days are numbered, particularly days of riding centuries.  And he agrees.  He has the same feeling at times.  

Story is lightly populated and the food service is fast though they are out of things listed on their menu outside.  Still, the barbecue is delicious and the portion is large enough that I struggle to finish it.  Music, per a woman we met there, does not start until after we will be gone.  Jon is talking with this woman when I return from a bathroom run.  She is quite interesting and certainly outgoing. A few years younger than me, her big accomplishment last year was riding her mule across the state of Michigan in a cross state event of some type.  She is here with her girlfriend to ride this area and tells us we need to go to the Garden of the Gods in Illinois sometime.

We would talk longer, but day light, while still ample, is shorter.  So we push off enjoying the tailwind that is now ours and well earned.  The morning slog into the wind has taken its toll on my legs but I still manage a decent pace the rest of the way back despite their ache.  At Dairy Queen, we find the dining area is finally open.  I rejoice because I have been looking forward to a chocolate shake to fuel me for the rest of the ride home.  Soon, as I point out to Jon, it will be too cold to sit outside enjoying the cool shake sliding down my throat. Even with the wind, I enjoy sitting outside with the sun, however pallid compared to summer, beating down on me. And my ride has paid the dues for this treat.

Other than the climb out of Brownstown, the hills are finished and we glide back in finding that while not all of the road closure signs have been removed, the road is open.  The day is spent but not wasted.  Never wasted on a bicycle.  I am, indeed, blessed.