Posts Tagged ‘Tour of Minnesota’
Touring Alexandria
Getting to Alexandria is bolstered by the added blessing that it is the location of our day off from the regular routine of getting up before the sun and struggling to pack our things while in a sleepy fog within the cramped confines of our little tents. Then it’s a forced march past the food troughs before unceremoniously resting our bottoms on the tiny bike seat for hour after hour all day long.
What? I love this bike tour! Doesn’t that sound like an awesome adventure!
Maybe you have to be there.
On our day off we get to sleep in as much as possible in a tent that turns into an oven when the sun hits it. We are on our own for food and whatever adventures we feel up for. Some folks find a laundromat, but that is the furthest thing from a vacation activity I want to seek.
I just might find someplace where World Cup games will be shown. I may, or may not, ride my bike. I’ve been inclined toward both options over the years, so I make no hard and fast rule about such a possibility. It’s usually dictated by how well I have been tolerating long hours on the saddle for the first three days.
I love… sleeping in a little bit on the day off in the middle of the tour, and then living in the moment to watch the energy of people around me flow, paying attention to what ever grabs me and following wherever that leads. What, me plan?
I miss… being able to go to my closet for just the right shoes or clothes and accessories for all the wide variety of adventures that may become available in a moments notice. Pickle-ball anyone?
In sandels?
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Touring Fergus Falls
I’ve been here before. Fergus Falls. I remember it fondly, although, only vaguely. For some people, retaining specific details happens naturally, but I am much more inclined to form a general impression about places I’ve been. I know I have biked to Fergus Falls before on at least one previous tour, but all I have in mind of the experience is a notion that it was good and I thoroughly enjoyed time spent there.
Maybe this year will foster a more specific detail, or two, for the permanent memory bank. It may depend on whether I found ice cream, or not.
I love… the years when the bike tour coincides with FIFA’s World Cup soccer tournament, like it does this year (even though the US team is not in it. Ugh!!). There is often a sub-group of like-minded “football” fans among the bikers who then converge on whatever establishments can be found which offer television coverage so we can hoot and holler together over the beautiful game.
I miss… being able to sit down on my easy chair upstairs on our loft in front of our big screen tv to watch sports or movies with my favorite snacks and beverage at a time of my choosing and not when I’m in the middle of some other distracting fabulous adventure in its own right at the very same time.
A little weak, maybe, but I had to miss something!
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Touring Morris
Today, if everything went as planned, we awake in Morris, MN. A prairie oasis on the Pomme de Terre River. If there is a Dairy Queen within walking distance of the high school, there’s a good chance I visited it last night.
I love… that so many of the brilliant people who do this bike ride with me every year share a fondness for walking after a long day on a bike seat, plus they seem to have an equal interest in searching out ice cream at every opportunity.
Bonus love… Biking all day long burns so many calories, I can indulge in ice cream treats more often than usual.
I miss… Cyndie’s home cooking, especially her fabulous breakfasts, the incredible “love-lunch” sandwiches she makes for me on work days, and the delicious dinners that somehow keep tasting better than the best one she made the time before.
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On Tour
I am on vacation! Per my habit, this includes taking a break from writing every day while I am away. There’s always a chance I might post a fresh tidbit here or there during the trip, using my thumbs on the teeny-tiny mobile device I’ll have with me, but the year I tried doing that every day of the tour, I found it made my vacation less of a vacation.
For the week, I have programmed Relative Something to offer you a note about the towns we are visiting, along with two thoughts about being away from home. The yin yang duality in the whole of my annual biking and camping week, the Tour of Minnesota.
Today, the group of more than a hundred of my closest friends wake up in Willmar, MN, after our first night of camping together.
I love… The first night of seeing this large number of incredibly close friends and casual acquaintances reunite with shared anticipation for the adventures that lie ahead.
I miss… Waking up in my own bed every morning after a night on a comfy mattress snuggled on a familiar pillow beside my precious wife.
“And they’re off!”
Let the pedaling begin.
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Gettin’ There
Well, in case you haven’t noticed, today is June 14th. It just so happens, the Tour of Minnesota biking and camping week starts on June 15th. Holy COW, that’s tomorrow! I suppose I better start getting ready to go.
Today is my last day at the day-job before starting this annual biking adventure. After that, it’s a quick stop for some supplies, a rush home to get some grass cut, and then it will be time to start packing.
Tent, check. Sleeping bag, check. Bike, check. Helmet, check. Bike shoes, check. As long as I pack those essentials, I will be functional. The rest is just superfluous accoutrements.
Okay, maybe I’ll bring a camera, and some clothes, a sleeping pad, sunscreen lotion, and ibuprofen. But that’s it. That’s all I need.
Oh, and a toothbrush. Spare shoes. A raincoat. A hat.
I found our old original Foxtail toy. I’m bringing the Foxtail
After dinner yesterday, in order to check off a couple of chores from my pre-departure list, I pulled out the diesel tractor and attached the loader. Cyndie and I transferred three large piles of composted manure to a remote location, to provide plenty of open space in the compost area before I go.
Whenever I was off dumping a full bucket, the chickens would show up to check out what Cyndie was doing. I could see them scamper away each time I returned. Eventually, I paid them a visit on foot to offer my regards.
They are just starting to show hints of what they will look like when they mature and start producing eggs.
As of last night, we still have all twelve birds. This kind of success is what breeds our willingness to keep trying the unencumbered free-range life for them.
After they start getting hunted again, our thoughts will change, I’m sure.
Speaking of them getting hunted… while the world was all caught up in the escapades of the downtown St. Paul raccoon that scaled a 23-story building in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, we had our very own varmint contemplating a climb up the side of our 1-story coop.
I admit, it wasn’t nearly as exciting, but it made for a cool capture on the trail cam.
You can almost read his mind, as he computes the potential reward of maybe gettin’ up there.
I wonder if I should be electrifying the hardware cloth that covers the windows. I’m hoping there is no reward whatsoever should he or she actually decide to make that climb.
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Adding Minutes
Amid all the various birthday events over the weekend, I was able to sneak in three consecutive days of increasing duration bike rides, which will hopefully reduce the discomfort of suddenly riding all day long for a week starting this coming Saturday on the Tour of Minnesota.
Although I rode for more minutes each day, all were woefully short of what would truly help my preparation. I have been exercising my body for multiple short rides, leaving my endurance muscles shortchanged. It was rather noticeable in yesterday’s longest ride for me this spring.
I’m currently a better sprinter than I am a long distance rider.
Last week, I forgot to give a shout out to my sister, Mary, with an anecdote she will appreciate. One year when we were both on the bike trip, we were sailing along at a pretty good clip, side by side on a trail in a relatively small group. After grabbing my water bottle for a swig, I reached down without looking to slide it back into its cage.
However, it wasn’t actually in the cage when I simply let go of it. The bottle hit the pavement immediately in front of Mary’s front wheel and with a thump-thump she rode right over it without missing a beat. There wasn’t time to do anything else, which is probably how she heroically avoided crashing horrendously.
Of course, to all around me, it looked as though I was trying to kill my sister. I understand how my reaching down with the bottle and then just letting go of it must have seemed curiously suspicious.
Well, Mary, I thought of you when I was riding along at good speed on a country road last week and lowered my water bottle to replace it, and then just let go when it wasn’t inside the cage. I blame mental fatigue. Luckily, this time there was no one with me to put at similar risk.
Yesterday I headed out from Edina toward roads in Eden Prairie that I had ridden frequently for years and years. We’ve only been away for five and a half years, but apparently, my memories are not so sharp. I made decisions on the fly as I reached intersections that required a choice, changing my idea of where I was heading multiple times.
At one point, I got turned around and thought I was riding west, when I was actually closing a loop that brought me back toward a point from which I had just come twenty minutes earlier. Oh, well. That gave me a chance to ride directly to our old neighborhood.
I rolled down the street a ways and found someone working in their yard. I paused to chat and learned he had just moved in recently. I asked about some of the neighbors, but he only knew a few, and only by their first names. I was able to genuinely assure him it was a great place to live, based on our twenty-five year experience raising children there.
From there I rode past the EP high school and eventually completed an intentional loop to bring me back to a confident return route to Cyndie’s parents’ house, admittedly far short of enough miles to serve me as well as I’d have liked.
Regardless, my recent riding has me prepared enough that I expect to do just fine next week, no matter what.
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Green Everywhere
For the first time since last October, we can’t see the chicken coop from the driveway. The green of innumerable leaves has returned in a blink.
Complimenting all the green exploding in every direction was the blue sky. Just the kind of weather that would be perfect for an inaugural bike ride of the season, when a person has failed to take advantage of any previous chances.
That meant I needed to hustle home from work, and focus exclusively on cleaning and re-assembling my bike. That is to say, no more disassembly allowed. Unlike my usual self, I somehow made short work of getting the trusty two-wheeler back into riding shape.
After a break for a quick dinner, I decided to see how it rode. I mentioned out loud that I wouldn’t have my bike computer because the battery was dead, and Cyndie reminded me I could use my phone.
It had been so long since using the “Map My Ride” app, I needed to reset my password to get logged in, but once that was done, I was ready to ride.
I like a quiet bike, and I’m proud to say that my bike didn’t utter a single annoying mechanical peep. The problem with quiet bike though, is anything else making unwelcome noises becomes that much more noticeable.
I’m pretty sure it was my shoes. I have a cleat mounted in my shoes that snaps into my pedals. The longer I rode, the more I became aware of what sounded like a squeaky chair as I muscled my way up hills.
Those cleats will get a serious snugging before my next ride.
I made it home just as the sun was dropping below the horizon. By that hour of the day, the low spots on the road take on a dramatic chill compared to the rest of the air. I paused on top of the first high spot of our driveway and checked the app.
Eight miles in 36 minutes, including several fair-sized hills. Minimal traffic and only a couple of farm tractors to pass. Startled someone’s horse napping in a pasture and got stared at by a lot of cows.
That’ll do just fine for a starter.
Now if I could just do that every day for a month, maybe I would be in reasonable shape at the start of the Tour of Minnesota.
The first day mileage will be 80 miles, so I’d rather not show up under-prepared for that.
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Not Progress
You’d think that, with my annual bike trip in June fast approaching, I would be riding often in preparation. Actually, I have not ridden once yet this year. It was a long winter!
Now that it has warmed up, it would make sense for me to get out and log some miles, but what did I choose to do instead? I started dismantling my bike to give it a much deserved cleaning.
Do you think there could be some subconscious factors at play that have me sabotaging my preparations for this year’s trip?
Why didn’t I do the bike maintenance when it was snowy and cold?
I am my own worst enemy.
In case you didn’t notice, my post for yesterday didn’t publish in the morning as I had intended. I don’t know what step I may have missed, but I have no reason to believe it was anything other than an unconscious oversight on my part.
By late afternoon, when my sister, Judy, checked in with me to learn why I hadn’t posted, it only took one swipe to publish from my phone. I had been that close. Just missed the last step.
I was probably distracted by thoughts of how I could be dismantling my bike down to the raw bearings to clean and grease everything so that I could then start riding it in preparation for the trip.
I wonder if my diligent planking exercises twice a day to support my ailing lumbar discs will translate to biking fitness. What I should really do is rig up my office chair to mount my bike seat on it so I can start building up calluses on my caboose while working at my desk.
It seems like the only progress I am making is in complicating my preparations for the Tour of Minnesota bike trip this year.
That’s a lot more like Not progress in my book.
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Just Thinking
I tried thinking and thinking but no thinks ever came to me. Where did they go? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, because with an absence of thinks, comes a propensity to not care. At least, I don’t think I care, if that’s what it’s like to not think any thinks.
What I mean is, I don’t care that I can’t think of any stories to write.
The other day I found myself telling Cyndie that I felt an urge to be preparing for a new expedition. Obviously, life with animals and 20 acres is its own expedition, but I think I was longing to escape to some other remote adventure.
I would not be surprised if this were a way I am manifesting my grief. Escape.
Conveniently, today I have an opportunity to begin planning for one of my favorite annual adventures. Today, registration opens for the Tour of Minnesota biking and camping week. My adventure awaits.
It is not lost on me that one of the things that I love the most about the Tour of Minnesota is that I don’t need to do much thinking throughout the week. The route is determined and mapped in advance for us, the camping locations are established, the meals are set.
I just show up to ride my bike, and go with the flow.
No critical thinking required.
I think I can manage that.
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Still There
I’ve made it through two days back at work, but like many years before, my mind is still back on the week of biking and camping with friends. Those days are a powerful elixir that takes a while to wear off.
The Tour of Minnesota is holding a photo contest which provides me an opportunity to revisit the trip, with an expanded view from my own, by perusing the 200-plus submissions from fellow riders.
Here are a couple of my own shots that I liked well enough to toss into the fray…
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Relative Something 