Relative Something

There are some hills to contend with on the roads close to home and I frequently plot my route to limit my exposure to them when jaunting off on random bicycle excursions. It becomes a trick to avoid crossing the Rush River valley if traveling very far to our east. Early on Saturday morning, I decided to make the valley my destination. After the fabulous ride with Paul the day before, my goal was to see how I would feel sitting on the saddle for a couple hours right away again.

Before reaching the valley, a lot of the terrain is pretty flat and the roads pass through miles of plowed farm fields. I chose to drop down into the valley to ride the beautiful pavement past picturesque scenery to a specific bridge where I could pause for a snack. From there, I would backtrack my way to climb up the very same hill I had come down.

The speed on the way down is in the 40mph range. More like single digits on the way back up. The graphic of the elevation of my ride clearly represents the mirror image of my progress.

When I got to the bridge, two fly fishermen were preparing their equipment to cast bait that would match whatever was currently hatching. One fig bar later, it had become six guys seeking a sweet pool where they could ply their skill out of reach from one another. My snack time was abbreviated by my inability to escape clouds of annoyingly persistent gnats.

Every time I have been down to this spot I have seen deer somewhere along the road next to the river. Every time. I figured the early hour would guarantee the streak would continue but I began to worry as I started to get close to this bridge and hadn’t seen any. Oh, ye of little faith. The record remains intact. The first sighting was on the far side of a field and not right in the river like so often before, but it counts just the same.

Then I came upon another deer, and another, and when I pulled over to pee, there was one standing just a few feet away I hadn’t noticed until getting off my bike. He seemed a little flummoxed by my stopping but with little commotion, made his way out of sight in a blink.

Just before I reached the bottom of the hill on my way out of the valley, a big, fat woodchuck that I surprised reversed his direction and ambled off away from the road.

Although my butt was definitely aware I had been riding just the day before, I felt comfortable enough to decide I am ready for a week of riding next week. No testing will be required to find out if sleeping on the ground will cause any discomfort. My latest sleeping pad works wonderfully, even if my habit of sleeping on my side presents a challenge.

The physical challenges are more than offset by the gush of endorphins I get from hanging out for a week with really great like-minded folks who love to laugh while pedaling bikes all day and camping in tents overnight.

Counting down the days to the Tour of Minnesota 2023!

.

.