Posts Tagged ‘biking’
Leaving Early
I am departing at dawn this morning to dash home early from the “Golf Weekend” in order to then drive more than an hour west for Cyndie’s 50th high school reunion. They are starting with a boat cruise on Lake Minnetonka, then coming back to Eden Prairie for an “after party.”
The plan seems a little dizzying to me after my last two whirlwind days of activity and conversation with the regular crew of the annual weekend that Cyndie’s brothers host at the lake place.
Yesterday started a little rainy, but that didn’t stop the golfers.
I waited until late afternoon to head out on the bike with two other riders. We got dripped on a little bit, but returned to the house before it rained hard enough to get things wet. Nobody crashed, so that was a win.
Dinner was grilled meats, corn on the cob, and a few sides. Since they realized I would be leaving and would miss the big fish dinner tonight, they thawed a little fresh-caught Alaskan Salmon for me that Ben’s son, Beck, brought from his recent fishing trip.
More delicious food, keeping up a trend of good eats I’ve been feasting on lately. I’m not confident that I’ve done enough pedaling to justify my higher-than-normal calorie consumption of late.
I made a few more adjustments to my gear in a search to quiet my noisy bike. Putting the battery back on appears to have ended the annoying click I was experiencing in the vicinity of the bottom bracket, but that just made what seem like new squeaks extra irritating. I rode yesterday without my seat bag of road repair gear to see if that was adding to the squeakiness. It may have been better, but it wasn’t silent yet. My right shoe was doing some squeaking, so I’ve got a little tweaking to do there.
I think the problems might be a moving target that I’ll just have to learn to live with.
We ended the evening with a card game that involved dealing only one card to each individual. You just have to beat one other person, with the lowest card being the loser. Each guy started with three chips. The first person to lose three times and run out of chips gets to return to the game with one chip when play drops down to just three people left.
Last night, the person who earned that dubious honor came back to win the whole thing. It was highly entertaining.
The camaraderie is something I will miss, but I’m heading to a big night of visiting at Cyndie’s 50th reunion this afternoon and evening that I expect will fill the void nicely.
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Directionally Challenged
For all of the effort I have put into striving for optimal health, mind-body-spirit, there remains one frailty that I have yet to address. I am prone to getting turned around so that I don’t know which way to go when faced with a decision about direction. This was demonstrated anew yesterday while out on a bike ride that I intended to be a simple loop.
I started at the red dot in the image above and rode with the wind due east on Twin Lake Road. That took me to County Road A, where I turned right and rode south to Chief River Road. After a right turn there, I pedaled west until I reached Tiger Cat Road. Another right turn there and I looped around to McClaine Road. That should have led to a right turn again to bring me back to Twin Lake Road, but I confidently made a left turn and rode south in the opposite direction from what I thought I was doing.
A couple of things clued me in to the situation playing out. It was taking longer than I thought it should to get back to Twin Lake Rd, and then the road made those two right-angle turns that I thought were wrong. When I came to the intersection with the south end of Tiger Cat Road, I knew I’d made a mistake, but I still couldn’t shake the perception that I was looking north.
I tried using my shadow to clarify, but the sun was too high, and the shadow was not helping to confirm my suspicion. I pulled out my phone to look at the map to reorient my brain. From the spot where I had stopped, I could have continued south to County Road B, but I really didn’t want to ride that more heavily trafficked road. Instead, I turned around and backtracked to get back to where I intended to be and then finished my ride, thoroughly resigned to having freshly confirmed my tendency for my sense of direction getting flipped.
It bothers me that I didn’t hesitate for a second when I made that wrong turn to the south. It felt completely correct to me.
Right up until it didn’t.
A guy could get a reputation for repeatedly doing things like that, and deservedly so.
The moral of this story? If you are ever on a bike ride with me (or a car trip, or walking indoors somewhere and coming back out again), don’t let me lead unless you enjoy putting on extra miles.
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Visiting History
I went for a little bike ride yesterday that took me into the stomping grounds of three of my ancestors’ families from 1860 to 1880 in Pierce County, Wisconsin.
Destination Esdaile brought me to some road construction.
I sure am loving my new, more aggressive tires.
The portion of the road under construction that I needed to travel was not very long. You can see my right turn ahead of the trees in the distance. That rough surface was still probably an improvement on the terrain my ancestors were traveling on in the 1800s.
Much of my ride was along Isabelle Creek that powered the mill my great-great-great-grandfather, Joseph Sleeper, ran. It’s wild thinking about the decisions made before any infrastructure existed to utilize this creek for powering a mill.
It felt like I had ridden back in time to pedal the gravel road that follows the winding creek valley. I am repeatedly amazed at the unlikelihood of our choosing to move to this county without having a clue about my family’s temporary connections to the land. I suppose it is the transient nature of their subsequent generations that explains the detachment.
Searching through old newspapers from the time period reveals details of my great-grandparents’ accomplishments in school. They were just kids romping around the woods and ravines along the creek. It’s wild to think about.
It made for a thought-provoking ride while pedaling up and down the rolling hills between Esdaile and our current home.
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Truly Gorgeous
We were blessed with about as nice a day for bike riding in late October as one could hope for in our part of the world. Afternoon temperatures rose into the 60s(F) yesterday, and we enjoyed every bit of it.
Our gang of intrepid pedalers reached Stillwater in what felt like a blink of time. When we arrived at the photo frame, a mom was taking a picture of her daughter. Bob volunteered to take a picture of them both. In turn, she agreed to take a picture of us. We asked Lilly to stay and be in our picture, too. Her mom said Lilly smiled bigger for ours than when posing with Mom.
Before stopping for some lunch, we rode up and over the Hwy 36 bridge, pausing for a portrait in the middle, overlooking the beautiful St. Croix River.
On the other side, we were in Wisconsin for a short loop before dropping down a big hill to cross the old lift bridge that is now limited to bikes and pedestrians. This delivered us back to the bustling energy of families with young kids in Halloween costumes, enjoying festivities along the riverfront.
Navigating our way to a little market where a few of us purchased something to eat, we took advantage of public tables to consume some sustenance.
I brought my own lunch.
Bob gave me a thumbs-up of approval.
While sitting there, I caught sight of a very attractive woman approaching from the market with her arms full and visibly gushing with a glow of love. She was looking at an equally handsome man who was cuddling a tiny bundle that I knew had to be their beautiful baby.
I couldn’t help myself as they tucked the blanketed cherub into their pram and prepared to move on. I approached them to let them know how truly gorgeous it was to witness their obvious love and joy radiating so unmistakably. Their baby was 9 weeks old. Their happiness was such a delight to see.
I’m glad to have intruded on their space because they seemed really delighted with my gushing over them, and that rewarded me with a burst of their love energy.
The ride back to our cars was a continuation of superb cycling weather and scenery, and we reached just under 30 miles ridden by the time we finished.
I wonder if my legs will feel stiff in the next 24 hours. I hadn’t been on the bike since we did the Mickelson Trail in South Dakota.
I’m really grateful I didn’t pass up this opportunity to get out and enjoy the fabulous day and my fabulous cycling friends.
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Great Outdoors
It’s a beautiful day. I am going to go for a bike ride with friends.
It won’t be forest bathing, but it can be just as beneficial. I am going to breathe in the great outdoors while rolling along in conversation with precious people.
If you are in Stillwater, MN, wave at us as we pedal past on the Gateway State Trail. I’ll be the one with a huge grin on my face.
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Relentless Miles
During our return ride back to Hill City, we climbed for about 2 hours, mile after mile without any coasting. That means pushing pedals the whole time to in order to make progress.
Upon reaching the high point, the well-tended trail slants down and our bikes started rolling along without any help from us.
That seems like a chance to rest, but it’s not. In no time, we are flying along at 23 mph and hanging on tight to keep the bike on the trail and our bodies on the bikes.
Even though it only takes a fraction of the time, the fact that you are flexed in mostly one position throughout makes it feel almost as relentless as the climb did.
Somewhere at the bottom of one of those downslopes, we finally had our first close encounter with cows on the trail.
I received quite an education about the difference between cow and horse manure during this adventure.
I’m biased, but I definitely prefer what horses produce.
Today, Gary and I face relentless miles in the car as we cross most of South Dakota to get back to our homes.
That’s a small price to pay for the blast of a time we had. It was an absolutely fabulous adventure.
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Giggle Inducing
Several times during yesterday’s ride to Deadwood from Hill City on the Mickelson Trail, Rich and I found ourselves giggling over how much beautiful fun we were having.
Gary decided to take an extra day off to regain full strength, and drove his car to meet us in Deadwood.
We are impressed with the quality of this trail and the attention to detail in their trail stops. They are nicely spread out and offer shelter, seating, hand-pumped well water, bike tools stations, and pretty respectable toilet facilities.
There is a lot of historical information provided on signage at each stop, as well as along pertinent locations along the entire 109 miles of the trail.
The leg we rode yesterday has four tunnels that added nicely to our adventures.
The Mickelson Trail won’t meet every cyclist’s standards for level of challenge, but I found it to be an ideal combination of gorgeous different landscapes with respectable mile options that are being well maintained.
The cost of the trail pass is easily worth the giggle-worthy adventures available to a wide range of people with bicycle skills.
I’m excited to be able to ride back to Hill City on this same route today.
Even though we’re still not counting, the distance of this leg is 51 miles.
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Exceeded Expectations
I could list all the superlatives I know and it wouldn’t capture how great our first day on the Mickelson Trail was yesterday.
There were so many spectacular scenes that I got frustrated I only had eyes on the front side of my head.
I’m really grateful for our plan to backtrack the way we just came because I can have another chance to take it all in again, this time from the other direction.
Failing on the idea of picking just one photo…
63 miles, but who’s counting?
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Flirting Danger
Sometimes in life’s adventures, dangerous situations are encountered. Between rainstorms yesterday, Paul, Randy, and I hit the road on our bikes –two of us only figuratively, but for Paul, it was literally.
I suspect his Parkinson’s is playing more and more of a role in his occasions of close encounters with the unforgiving earth while bike riding, but Paul ending up on the ground during bike rides has been happening for as long as we have shared time as cyclists.
Yesterday’s was one of the less forgiving instances. We had just made a decision to extend our planned route based on time available and distance involved and turned left instead of right. As we blissfully rolled along, Paul was behind me. I heard him vocalize a version of “uh oh” and felt his front tire pressing on my rear tire.
If you’ve ever watched much of the Tour de France, you’ll recognize that this situation rarely turns out good. I stiffened up to hold my bike upright as Paul unsuccessfully attempted to decouple us. I could tell by the sound of what followed it wasn’t a soft landing.
He was a bit of a mess, but dodged the calamity of broken bones. I pulled mud out of his helmet and attempted to calm his anger at himself, slowing his breathing so we could take a moment for assessment. Randy squirted some water on his wounds. We aborted our planned extension and headed straight back to the house to temporarily patch him up.
His wife, Beth, was scheduled to arrive by noon to pick him up and drive to visit friends in Upper Michigan for more cycling.
“Hello, honey…” Nice surprise for her. Beth is as stoic as Paul, and they packed his stuff up and headed off for the next adventure without much fuss. Paul texted an update that they visited the ER in Marquette, and he was given the okay to continue with ride plans after fresh applications of antiseptic and clean bandages. No stitches required.
While the more dedicated golfers forged ahead with their games for the rest of the day, despite the rain, the remaining group of us entertained ourselves with card games and a few minutes of televised golf, and a Vikings preseason game before getting in some boating action when the weather got nice.
A cruise on the pontoon led to a visit to Powell’s restaurant across the lake, where cocktails and tossing bags filled the time while we waited for a table.
I’m pretty sure that Joe’s throw fell cleanly through the hole after I snapped that photo. When I checked on the other four guys inside at the bar, I was unable to tell which group was having a better time.
The sun was setting before our food arrived, but nobody cared. Steve had initiated a round of sharing highlight memories each of us had from the many years of this annual adventure, and a lot of love was evident.
Our last flirtation with danger was navigating our way back across the lake after dark with unofficial lighting and me as the designated driver.
I am not a natural boat captain.
With Steve’s expert guidance and help in doing the actual departing and landing, we returned safely to Wildwood, where we reconnected with the other golfers.
Oh, there was one more dangerous act to report. I sacrificed my good health by staying up way too late for the third night in a row to hang out on the deck with music, laughter, heartfelt sharing, and disgusting cigar smoke.
Sometimes it is worth living dangerously.
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Full House
Even though the golf weekend hosted by Steve and Ben up at Wildwood is an annual event, seeing so many vehicles parked in the driveway is an unusual sight.
Since I don’t golf, a short time after everybody wakes up in the morning, I find myself all alone for breakfast on the deck in the calm, quiet over the lake. Well, not entirely alone. The two young eagles and their parents nesting over the tennis court made an appearance, visiting the large pine tree between the house and the lake.
In the afternoon yesterday, Paul and David L. joined me for a short bike ride strategically routed to minimize our exposure to the strong wind that blew all day long. Almost 18 miles at an average pace of 14.4 mph. Reasonable exercise in the scenic northern Wisconsin forests.
I saw Paul pointing into the trees ahead of me and turned to look as I passed a large doe that was standing squarely beside the road. She looked like a statue except for a quick shake of her tail as I rolled by.
The highlight of the day has to be the feast we enjoyed for dinner. Jeff brought fresh salmon and halibut caught on a fishing trip the week before. Steve grilled the fish and some brats and burgers under the close supervision of a couple of interested parties, while others tended the corn on the cob and side dishes.
Seating was arranged for 14 on the deck, but half the crew couldn’t wait to dive into the delicacies and chose seats at the dining table closer to the center island in the kitchen, where the spread was laid out.
We lingered on the deck until later than a good night’s sleep dictates, listening to music and regaling each other with tales mildly embellished for effect. Even though a notable conflict on the golf course with strangers earlier in the day that included a fair number of F-bombs didn’t escalate to fisticuffs, the retelling started to expand to imply…
I made a futile attempt to find a spot upwind of cigar smoke, but the camaraderie was worth the unpleasantness. If it had kept the mosquitoes away, I would have found it a tiny bit more tolerable.
You know me, I am well-practiced at finding something to whine about. Don’t be misled. I am having a fabulous time with some great friends. It is an honor to be included.
The early morning thunderstorm has passed, and most of the guys are off already for their final day on the links. I will join any bikers who remain for a roll on the roads after I get up and get going myself. I intend to put the battery/motor module on my bike today to cope with a third day in a row of riding.
My legs feel a little bit like I’m getting to be an old man. Of course, that is why I decided to buy a bike with a motor option.
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Relative Something 