Saturday, July 15, 2023

Solitude and Rest

"Solitude is a breeding ground 

for idiosyncrasy, and I relish that

about it,  the way it liberates

whim."

Caroline Knapp


I belong to two bicycle clubs, and both have rides that interest me today, but a part of me urges me to decline both and do a gentle, easy, meandering type ride with no demands upon pace or conversation.  To soak in the summer that is relentlessly passing. To go at my own pace with no thought to others.  For these are the types of rides that often renew my love of cycling.  The decision is easy when Mike posts a difficult ride.  The other ride, a lunch ride to Stream Cliff, is not so easy to decline, but I need some alone time.

 

Years have taught me that I need to listen not only to my body, but my mind.  The body will tell you it is tired and needs to stop before it actually does, and there are times to push that limit, but the mind has needs too.  Recovery, both physical and mental, is important.  There is only so far one can push while still benefiting. 


It does not take long for  me to realize I made the right decision.  With a century Saturday, a 55 miler Tuesday with lots of climbing, and a fast paced 50 mile ride on Wednesday, not only my body but my mind is ready for a break.  Particularly with a difficult century scheduled for Sunday. Eden/Delaney Park road beckons and I follow the call knowing that I will get  peace and solitude there.  


I love the way the trees canopy the road, letting only patches of sunshine through to jigsaw the road.  And I know this road well enough to know that the shade does not hide anything dangerous.  The road is not flat, but every climb and descent is a gentle one, at least until one nears Salem.  That will be the big decision of the day.  Whether to climb or turn around.  Sweet clover lines the roads that are not busy enough for the county mowing machines to decimate, and I think of how I would have told Lloyd about them after a ride because bees love the wild sweet clover. 


While there is payback for the climb in  the form of a two mile descent later in the ride, when I get there and start to climb I change my mind and turn around.  This is a fasted ride and I will still get in about 45 miles before returning home.  My belly starts to remind me that it is hungry, and a candy bar and drink with Amos is not a good way to end a fast.  Also there is lots of climbing to be done on Sunday's century.


I think of my brother, who passed about a year ago, and wonder if anyone else things of him or misses him.  I think of others that have passed.  And I realize that I owe it to them to live well, or as best I can, for they did not get a chance to do so.  So many.  Lynn recently pointed out that I had more loss then anyone should have in such a short period of time and he is right.  Since 2014 my husband, two brothers, a sister, a mother, a best friend, a nephew.  Sometimes it is hard to remain upright and not feel sorry for myself, and once again I am thankful for friends and bicycles.  


Today was not a friend day.  Today I needed time alone, to think, to pray, to miss those that have passed.  Perhaps, without realizing it, I owed my brother this day, because how sad it would be not to  be missed and remembered.  Yet again  I realize how our choices in life, how we treat others, how we view the world, impacts us and others around us.  Once again I realize that I have been blessed. 

Thursday, July 13, 2023

The Adjective Century

"Rain is grace; rain

is the sky descending to the

earth; without rain, there

would be no life."

John Updike

 

I check a few times to see if the century is canceled due to the prediction for rain and possible storms, but it is not.  So I pack my things, double checking for rain gear, a rain cap and a waterproof phone case.  Then I head out.  I decide not to pack my rain jacket as the rain is not supposed to arrive until the afternoon and it should be hot by them.  I do pack a small, disposable poncho, something I try to carry during the summer when storms can pop up suddenly and without warning.    

 

Too well I remember a hot summer ride where the rain caught us on what was a sweltering day reducing us to a mob of shivering, miserable cyclists....at least until we bought and adorned ourselves in white, plastic garbage bags, tearing a hole for head and arms:  the time I joked about riding with white trash.  I think it was the first time, at least that I remember, where I was so cold my body shuddered in strong, involuntary contractions in an attempt to warm itself. To this day, I wonder why they make some trash bags white.  Seems rather an odd choice of colors for the task.  Like the time I wore a white dress on a first date and we went for barbecue ribs which I promptly spilled onto my lap. 

 

I like most of this century; however, I greatly dislike the unnecessary section on River Road.  River Road is a dangerous road with impatient motorists and no shoulder for a cyclist to move over.  But it is what it is and there is only three to four miles on it.  Still, considering it and the coming rain, I decide to ask the ride captain if I am able to start the ride early.  Sam says yes and so off I go leaving the others in the parking lot.  Steve Rice, Mark R., Dave King, and Steve Meredith catch me a bit down the road having left early as well.  

 

As I ride through neighborhoods, a solitary woman on a bike, I think how nice it is to leave early, before traffic has become too thick.  It is so peaceful.  I like riding in the morning while much of the world is sleeping or gathered around the table eating breakfast.  The neighborhoods are wrapped in quietness other than bird song and the occasional dog disturbed by my unexpected passage or an unidentified rustling in the bushes. Everything is lush and vibrant nurtured by the moistness and rain that has haunted this area recently and seems to show no sign of abating.  "One of those summers," I think. I am glad it was  not my decision to have or to cancel the ride today with summer being so unpredictable.  Summer flowers adorn green lawns in bright colors.  Even humid, hot, rainy summers have their benefits I suppose.

 

Despite the coolness of morning, it is obviously  humid.  Even with the flatness of the first part of the course, my skin begins to glow.   If only the moisture would sink in and revitalize my skin, I think.  I have never considered myself to be particularly vain, maybe because I know that while I am not ugly, I am not a beauty, but I dislike the coming of crepey skin.  Of course, cycling is hard on the skin.  And I  have done a lot of cycling.  A song reaches my lips despite those thoughts and I find my rhythm, the one I know that I can maintain for a hundred miles barring something unforeseen. 

 

Before they catch me, I think about where on the course I will probably be when the rain hits.  I speed my pedal stroke thinking to  minimize my chances of getting a good soaking.  I really don't mind rain, though, in the summer. I only truly mind the storms or torrential downpours that impact visibility and my ability to see and my ability to brake if needed or the downpours that leave you shivering cold to the point where even pedaling can't warm you.  Indeed, as I told a friend who rode yesterday rather than today because of the rain, better a rain ride and some coolness than that blasted heat that saps my strength so quickly and so thoroughly.  He does not agree.  


I hurry through the first store stop after eating my homemade blueberry oatmeal bar and Annette Melecio, a triathlete, John Pelligrino, and Dave King come with me.  They ask about Steve and Mark, but I really didn't notice if they had already left the store stop.  Dave says he is in training for PBP and getting in and out of controls or stops rapidly. (He will forget this by the third store stop where Annette, John, and I roll out without him while he finishes a milk shake). Dave's relationship with food always amazes and charms me.  Dave and Steve are both headed back to PBP this year and I feel a momentary tinge of regret for not being part of it, but I just don't want to be that tired again.  Twice, I think, is enough.


The first climb is Liberty Knob and I warn them about the dogs at the top.  There is a group of three or four of them that always come out.  I have talked to the owner about them and others have talked with the owner about them, but he is unwilling and/or unable to control them.  They have never bitten a cyclist that I know of, but they can be quite scary.  There are times when I change my route to avoid them. I am wary of groups of dogs like I am groups of people:  both do things in groups that they would never do individually.  Today, however, they are not as bad as usual.  Perhaps, I think, because the stronger riders have already passed this way and wore them out.  Even dogs seems to grow lazy in this humid heat.  


The second climb is William's Knob, better known to me as Bill's Knob as it is on my Marengo  Mangler ride and I would tease my friend, Bill, about it. Teasing.  I think that perhaps it is a sign of a good relationship so long it is not hurtful.  The climb is not quite as long as Liberty, but a bit steeper.  Since my left knee has been bothering me a bit the past few rides, I decide to drop into my triple, something I don't normally do on this climb.  It is newly paved which makes climbing it easier.  I tell the group Sam said there is now a dog residing at the top, and there is; however, he never leaves his yard.  


And now is the time to look forward to the descent on Daisy Hill, the one that always amuses me as a cyclist will almost inevitably being going MUCH faster than the speed limit when the hill ends.  I always envision a  law enforcement officer with his radar gun pulling over cyclist after cyclist. This is the hill that last year, people worried that Tom Askew had gone down on as he did not show for the lunch stop.  (He just missed the stop as it is not right on the course and rode onward).  After the descent, we go to Subway but there is a long line of the faster riders waiting to be served so we head a few streets over to a local cafe for lunch.  


It turns out we arrive prior to lunch.  They tell us food will be quick, and it is.  In the end, however, it does not matter as while we are eating the skies open up, thunder cracks, lightening flares, and rain comes down in a torrent.  We wait until the worst of it passes and head out into a drizzle.  Dave has a rain jacket, I have a cheap emergency poncho that I usually carry on the bike, and Annette and John (with some help from Annette) adorn trash bags donated by the restaurant. 


I worry that we will overheat on the climb that comes almost immediately after the lunch stop, but needlessly.  The air has chilled and I am glad to have my poncho.  It is not too long after, however, that I decide I am starting to sweat inside and stop to take off so as not to dehydrate.  It also reduces the enormous drag that being inside a plastic bubble has on forward movement.  And we are moving.  Each of us seems intent on a fast (for me) pace.  It is cold starting out, but soon the work of the ride warms me.  Annette and John have followed suit removing their trash bags.  We save our plastic just in case, but we never need it. The rain has cooled things down making the ride much more pleasant.


We roll into the third store stop thinking the fast group is in front, but they pull in as we (well, all except Dave) are finishing a quick bite and drink.  I worry about Chris Embry not being in the fast group, but I know he had a rather serious fall.  What I did not know....what he did not know until later....is that he is riding with broken ribs.  (Been there, done that).   In the end, we will end up finishing with this group, but only because they waited at lunch until the rain stopped whereas we did not.  The hills are getting to our legs.  Though there are no significant climbs after the climb to Rake Road right after lunch, there are lots of rollers.  And we have been pushing.   


The end is a whirl.  I end up finishing with Thomas Nance's group only because they have to stop at a stop light, but as I look around at that light I realize that I probably have children as old or older than some of the riders.  For a 67 year old woman, I suppose I did okay.  The rain actually helped by keeping the temperature down.  I just suffer anymore when it is really hot, and my pace shows it.  I vow not to ride so  hard the next century, but who knows.  What a blessing to have the health to ride, slowly or quickly, and ride for a hundred miles.  Is there any better way to spend the day?  And thank goodness for the rain that not only cooled us for the effort, but will lend her beauty to future rides by keeping everything so verdant.



Sunday, July 9, 2023

A Hot One

"I am cruel thirsty

this hot weather.....

Nothing makes me so 

excessively peevish as 

hot weather."

Jonathan Swift 


The strange weather this year continues.  Suddenly it is July and it is hot.  The bouts of colder weather have not allowed my body to adapt, and I suffer.  This is particularly so because of the high dew point from all the rain and storm activity here recently.  Or in other words, it is humid.  It is the kind of humid that often, particularly during climbs when speed is lower, ones skin glows from sweat that the body has produced to try to cool you but that doesn't because it cannot evaporate.  It's the kind of ride that makes one dream of large, ice filled glasses of water and cool showers and air conditioning.  It's the kind of ride where your throat feels parched no matter how much you drink and the water, warmed by the weather, is as warm as drinking your own urine would be.  


But we are riding to lunch at Stream Cliff and it is only a bit over fifty miles one way.  So there will be a break in the middle.  But the initial climb out of Madison is a tough one and a long one.  My legs still are weak from yesterday's hot century.  And I suffer a bit before we reach the top.  I just don't recover as quickly as I used to, and it shows.  I always lag behind Jon on climbs regardless, but today is worse than usual.  At least there is another rider, Ken, closer to my own speed so I don't feel like such a drag.  


Lunch is, as always, delicious and not overly crowded.  I have become very fond of their blueberry salad.  It is nice to talk and relax and drink cold water before climbing on our bikes for the return trip.  How nice it would be, I think, to just take a nap now that my stomach is full and my need for conversation briefly sated.  

 

The return trip, though not as hilly, is even hotter.  By the time we reach Madison, I am more than ready to get off my bike, the bike that , yet again, is NOT allowing me to shift into the big ring.  It happens so often any more. Jon is kind and adjusts the limit screw.  I toy with the idea of suggesting a drink before heading home, but I am weary and don't.  Glad I rode, but the heat is making me tired and peevish, so home I go to luxuriate in a shower and as much ice cold water to drink as I can hold.  Tomorrow is, after all, another day.  And I am blessed to have a home to go to.