International Freeze Your A$$ Day

Somebody, somewhere decided that today is International Winter Bike to Work Day. This is the day when all the bike commuters in South America laugh at us up north. In keeping with the spirit of the day, Jack Frost returned with a vengeance. It was 13 degrees when I left home this morning. To make the ride to work more fun, there was a 10-15 mile per hour headwind.

I wore everything I could which makes for difficult pedaling. The sunrise was stunning today but you’ll have to take my word for it because there was nothing that was going to get me to stop my bike lest I freeze in place.

At Gravelly Point the treeless field let me experience the headwind in all its winter glory. I was struggling to maintain 8 miles per hour. This 1/2 mile stretch seemed like it would take forever. Since today is Friday, I rode into DC for Friday Coffee Club. The ride across the 14th Street Bridge was actually painful. The wind was cutting through my balaclava and causing the left side of my face to sting.

I briefly considered riding north on 15th Street to be officially counted by the people from Bicycle Space who somehow became the official counters of this event. Instead I banged a left on Pennsylvania Avenue and headed straight to Swings House of Caffeine. To my surprise there were already about 10 people there. In short order, we were up to our usual 20 or so

One of the folks at my table had some interesting artwork in his cup. Check it out.

The rode from Swings to Rosslyn was pretty nasty too. I crossed back over the river but only had to stop twice for inbound bike commuters.

During the day I had an asthma attack. The worst one I have had in years. A couple of puffs from my albuterol inhaler took care of it but now I know that cold air is a trigger. Whew!

The pedaling home was much easier for a several reasons. First, I wore only three layers on my legs instead of four on the ride in. Second, the headwind was gone. And it was about ten degrees warmer. Warmth is relative.

As difficult as today was, we are fortunate that the coldest weather will not arrive until Sunday. I am thankful that I don’t have to commute in that.

Let’s end on a warm thought. In one week, pitchers and catchers report for spring training. Batter up!

Throwback Thursday: Like Yesterday

I bought my first bike as an adult (sort of) when I was 22. It was a Raleigh Grand Prix and it cost me an entire week’s wages. I rode it for a summer in Boston and then moved to Providence for grad school. My Raleigh was my only means of transport and it served me well (until its left front fork fell off during a ride, but that’s another story). After class I’d go for rides in Providence and its environs until, that is, the days grew short. Back in those days bicycle lighting was patheticly inadequate. How was I going to de-stress without my bike.

I had a pair of Jack Purcell tennis shoes so I figured why not try running. My first run lasted about a quarter of a mile before I stopped due to lack of oxygen. With each passing day I added a bit of distance. After a few weeks, my tennis shoes were nearly destroyed so I bought a pair of running shoes and kept at it.

Over the course of the next two years my mileage increased incrementally. I still rode my bike but only to run errands or go on the occasion long (usually well under 30 miles) ride. I hit the 1 mile barrier, the 3 mile barrier, and the 5 mile barrier. Getting past each barrier took major effort. 7 miles. 10 miles. Once I cleared 13 miles I was cooking with gas. I quietly entered the Ocean State Marathon in Newport.

About a month before I tried my first 20 miler. It nearly killed me. A week later I tried again and finished, to my uttter amazement, in a full out 1 mile sprint. Dang. The day of the marathon came and some grad school friends and I drove to Newport. It was November 1. About a third of the course traversed Ocean Drive, with winds off Rhode Island sound. It was cold. I wore a t-shirt and cheap gym shorts.

And I ran. And I ran. And I ran. At 20 miles I felts awesome. At 23 I felt awful. The kind of awful that simply can’t be described. I could barely bend my legs. I forged onward walking and jogging until I could run slowly. My legs were beaten to death by the crown in Ocean Drive and the incredibly hard surface of Belleview Boulevard, pretty mansions all in a row.

The last half mile involved the biggest hill of the course. I was so mad when I saw it I took off in a full out sprint. When I crossed the finish line the congestion of the runners ahead of me caused me to stop abruptly. I was given my medal (which I still have), memorized my time (3:10:18) and started to cramp up something fierce. My crew of grad school friends came to my side and help me walk away.

As the Brits say, I was chuffed and knackered. I remember that run like it was yesterday. I wrecked my left knee playing volleyball three years later and had to give up running. I miss it every day still. When I walk downstairs to my family room I pass a wall with framed certificates from four of my seven marathon finishes. Glory days.

I Shoulda Known Better

Today’s title comes from one of John Lennon’s songs in A Hard Days Night. It’s been one of my favorites for a long time. It also describes how I felt about 40 minutes into my ride to work.

On the up side, I didn’t need to use a headlight today. Props to Copernicus.

It was cold. I had a headwind. Most importantly it had rained and sleeted and snowed a bit overnight. My lawn had a dusting of white. The streets were perfectly rideable. So I headed out on The Mule.

The three miles to the Mount Vernon Trail were uneventful, but for the fact that getting warm was a bit of a problem. As most of my readers already know, the National Park Service owns the Mount Vernon Trail. They do not treat it or shovel it in winter. This morning the asphalt parts were fine, but every wooden bridge was icy. The Dyke Marsh bridge is a couple hundred yards long. I didn’t slip at all as I rode across it. There were no signs of crashes in the this white layer that sat on top of its wooded deck. A very short wooden bridge near Belle Haven Park was also not a problem.

I made it to the bricks on the Washington Street deck. I expected to see ice but it was clear. My next challenge was along the trail near the river just north of Fords Landing. This too was snow and ice covered but I could see tire tracks had made it through this section successfully. I rolled right on through.

My next challenge came from the concrete bridge that skirts the power plant. A cyclists was walking his single speed bike up the hill from the bridge. Not a good sign. I rolled across the bridge and around its tight turn without incident, but I took note of the icy mud in the middle of the turn.

I figured that the farther north I rode, the lower the ambient air temperature and the higher the chance that one of these bridges would be bad news. I figured right.

The next bridge is a wooden deck that skirts the Slaters Lane apartment building. It takes a leftward 90 degree turn midway. The first half was rideable, but I spotted a smear mark in the thin layer of ice and snow on the boards. Someone had crashed. I made it through the turn in good shape despite several more smear marks. Then with out warning my rear tire began to slide sidewards. I gradually tried to steer out of it. Then down I went in a pretty decent imitation of an albatross landing. Somehow I ended up lying flat across the bike’s frame with my upper body and left ribs landing on the downtube (the diagonal one from the handlebars to the pedals) and my legs smacking the top tube (the one from the seat to the handlebars.

Oof! Am I hurt? Nope. Then I untangled myself from The Mule. Ow. Ribs hurt a bit. I stood the bike up. It slid. I was going to take a picture of my smear but the bike would not stay upright. So I walked off the bridge. As I did I could barely get traction. I made it off the bridge, straightened the handlebars and brake hood and rode away thankful that all my personal parts were working. I credit my not getting hurt to the fact that the bike frame cushioned the blow and the bike and I slid on contact.

100 yards further on was the beaver bridge, a similar wood bridge notorious for crashes. I decided to walk this one. Smears were all over the place. A walker was practically skating as she approached. I made it around the curve and went down. Walking! That’s how slippery it was. I carefully got up and pulled The Mule up and we started sliding backwards with the slant of the bridge! I arrested the slide and ever so gradually made my way to the side of the bridge where I grabbed the chain that acts as a sort of guardrail. Just as I grabbed hold I heard a thump. A rider fell 20 yards behind me. “I’m alright. Planned for it!”

He got right up and walked with me to the end of the bridge.

We both mounted our bikes. He sped off into what had become a pretty strong headwind. We’re having fun now!

As I approached the Humpback Bridge a rider coming toward me warned that the wooden Trollheim Bridge (the boardwalk beneath the TR Bridge) was covered in ice. I decided I’d had enough fun for one morning and turned off the MVT and toward Arlington Cemetery. I rode the path around the cemetery to the gate at Fort Myer, banged a right and rolled straight to the office. While I showered I looked down and saw a pretty impressive imprint of my top tube across my right knee.

Funny thing is, last winter at just about this time, I fell riding Little Nellie on the glazed streets near my home. You’d think I’d learn.

Getting the Docs Out of My Way and Mate

I took a voluntary day off today to go to three medical appointments. I drove to all three which were spread all over Alexandria. First, came the dentist in the west end of Alexandria. I think every one of my teeth has a filling or a crown so dentist visits are usually an opportunity for financial disaster. This one went perfectly. No issues to deal with. I am done with my teeth for 6 months. Yay!

After a stop to kill time at a Starbucks (I rarely go there but it was convenient), I went to the dermatologist for a full body skin screening. I am of Irish/English stock so I am the king of sunburns. My skin is so pale that a childhood friend called me Boo Radley. (I am not making this up.) The dermatologist had a field day freezing various suspicious growths off all parts of my body. I lost count at 15. It wasn’t a lot of fun, but, unlike last year, I had nothing worthy of a biopsy so I am done with my skin for 6 months, too. Yay x 2!

My final stop was at the physical therapist. I hate doing all the crunches and dips and assorted other strange exercises but when I am done my back feels wonderful. The really good news is that other than when I drive my car, the numbness in my right foot seems to be fading away. Yay x 3!

Basically all this means that I have only three more doctor’s appointments to deal with. One more PT session. A return visit to the neurologist. And an ophthalmologist appointment. It’s possible that I could be done with doctors until July or August which means more time for riding and hiking.

Not related to medicine but worth talking about is an interesting alternative to coffee and black tea that I tried over the weekend. Yerba mate is a tea popular in South America. It has about 2x the caffeine of a can of Diet Coke but none of the acidity of black tea or coffee. I have been meaning to try mate for years but never could find it until now.

Tomorrow, I am back on The Mule for another bike commute. By the way, did you know that Friday is International Winter Bike to Work Day? You should sign up.

Spring Training

We are training for spring. Today the temperature on my back deck reached 66 degrees. After weeks of freezing our asses off, the people of DC are all smiles. Except, perhaps, for the tourist I saw crashing on his Segway, but I am getting ahead of myself.

I started the day doing physical therapy for my foot. It was barely numb when I awoke but I decided to forgo yoga or my other exercises and just do what the PT people told me to do. Dang, it hurts. Raise this, lower that, keep your stomach and your butt cheeks tight. After about a half an hour our was done. My stomach muscles wanted to be traded to another body. And the lacrosse ball that is beating the knots out of my calves is seriously in danger of getting thrown out the window. Ouch.

After a morning of relaxation, I headed out the door on Big Nellie. I was bound for an everything bagel in Bethesda, about 24 miles away. It was 50 degrees outside. Yesss.

As I was waiting for cars at an intersection with Fort Hunt Road near my home, an SUV drove by and made friendly tooting sounds with its horn. I have no idea who it was but I waved at them

I made it to the Mount Vernon Trail which was not particularly crowded. In Old Town Alexandria I took South Washington Street. My physical therapist ran past. Small world.

The ride to the city was so peaceful I went on auto pilot. I stopped at Gravelly Point to watch a plane land overhead – easily one of my favorite free things to do.

Over the 14th Street Bridge I rode then up Ohio Drive to M Street to the Capital Crescent Trail. The long ride up to Bethesda took time. Recumbents simply don’t do uphills very well. And since I am not exactly a badass on two wheels let’s just say it took a while.

When I got to Bethesda Row I headed straight for Bethesda Bagels. Since it was well after noon there wasn’t a line. I picked up my everything bagel, toasted with veggie cream cheese and a sweet tea. I proceeded to inhale these comestibles with great vigor. Ah!

I rode the Georgetown Branch Trail over to the Rock Creek Trestle. The trail was somewhat muddy. Recumbents are the best mudders so it was a tense ride. I slipped this way and that several times. The view from the testle differs by time of year. The winter view is, of course, leafless but it’s always fun to be at treetop level with the world. IMG_20150208_142017

I reversed course then headed down into Rock Creek Park. All the climbing has its rewards and for most of the next 7 miles I was cruising downhill. The number of people on Beach Drive was impressive. Many families out riding bikes with their kids. I had to be careful not to hit any of them. They wobble and waver and dart out in front of you unexpectedly.

I got on the trail at Klingle Road. This was a mistake. The trail at this point is narrow and crowded and has numerous bumps from tree routes. Once I reached the zoo entrance, I took Harvard Street to climb into Adams Morgan. It’s a healthy climb, too. To recover from my exertion I took a very slow speed spin through Meridian Hill Park. There was a healthy number of people there, no one I knew though. I rode by the drum circle but there was only one man with drums so I decided to head back home.

I took 16th Street which is a nice straight downhill shot to the White House. Along the way I saw the indefatigible Ted a.k.a @MrTinDC.

I shifted over to the 15th Street cycletrack and got behind a long line of tourists on Segways. Normally, Big Nellie looks weird to people I pass but in a cluser of Segways, Big Nellie doesn’t get a passing glance. At the intersection with Pennsylvania Avenue, the Seqways stopped to regroup. One tourist’s Segway jolted to a stop throwing him to the ground with an audible SPLAT. Should’ve rented bikes.

I crossed back over the river and headed home on the Mount Vernon Trail. It was packed with people, most of whom were oblivious to the fact that some people were actually trying to make forward progress. At the south end of the airport I balied out, opting to cut through Del Ray.

I cut over to Old Town and rejoined the MVT at the southern end of Old Town. Mistake. This part of the trail was every bit as chaotic as what I had bailed out on.There was no point in getting upset about it. I slowed down and took in the madness that warm weather brings. And besides, by this point my legs were started to tell me that all that time off in January had taken its toll on my fitness.

I arrived home. Mrs. Rootchopper had opened the windows. The temperature was 66 degrees. (One degree off the record, so I am told.)

So I ended up riding 170 miles in seven days. Not half bad for winter. Tomorrow is a day off the bike as I am going to three doctors appointments.

We now return to our regularly scheduled winter.

‘

A Perfect Kind of Spinal Tap Smile

I woke up with a sense of dread. I could just tell it was as cold as Nome outside. I went out to get the newspaper. Yep, Nome. I checked the thermometer. It said this:

11

Gulp. This is a Spinal Tap morning.

I ran upstairs for another layer of clothes. After eating breakfast I stepped out into the cold.

Mostly I was warm in about two miles. Except my fingertips just would not warm up. Dang, they hurt. The sun was rising when I arrived at Dyke Marsh but I didn’t take a picture because I would have had to take my hand out of its glove. Take my word for it, the sunrise was mighty fine.

I continued riding. The cold air took my mind of of everyday concerns. It was just me, my breathing, and the passing scenery. I was in the zone. Just rolling along. This is the only way to go.

I made it to Friday Coffee Club and was surprised to see so many bikes parked outside. I was followed inside by Dr. McMurdo, Science Mom. We had a chat in line waiting for our brews. Frankly, they could have just poured the stuff on my feet. I wouldn’t have cared.

The bike commuter crowd had already packed itself around two tall tables, so I was lucky to commandeer a third. I was joined by Ricky, Ted, Lis (not a typo, she’s peculiar about thiz), Jeff, and Andy (whom I had not previously met). We discussed physical therapy (which most of us seemed to have some experience with) and nerve flossing (easily the sketchiest thing I have heard of in a long time.)

After coffee, I rode to the office. I reached the TR bridge and rode all the way across its narrow side path without havingf to stop for a single DC-bound cyclist. This is called a “perfect” by Brian. It is only my second TR bridge perfect since I started riding to coffee club three years ago.

I managed not to get nearly kiiled in the Intersection of Doom.

The ride home was notable for only two things. As I rolled past a massive storm drain conduit where run off from Rosslyn’s streets dumps into the river, I noticed the water was an unnatural blue/green/slime color. Right at the edge of this nasty looking liquid was a great blue heron all tucked in onto itself.

A few miles later I passed an oncoming runner. It was a young woman bundled up against the cold. Our eyes met and she gave me an ear to ear smile. It was the perfect exclamation point to a might fine week of biking to work.

The rest of the ride home was pretty much as good as it gets for a Friday in winter. The sun stayed up for most of the ride home. Good of you to cooperate Mr. Sol. (Mr. Sol being one of Neil Young’s awesomest songs, by the way.)

Despite the lingering cold of winter, this week’s bike commutes went to 11. Practically perfect in every way.

Climbing aboard the PT Boat

Today was my second physical therapy appointment for my numb right foot. Of course, this meant that when I woke up my foot felt fine for a few hours. I drove to the appointment because the temperature was dropping almost as fast as the wind was howling. Along the way, my foot became number than it has been in weeks.

At the PT place, the therapist I saw last week, put my right foot, now back to its usual numbness, through various gentle twists and turns. The working theory is that a big nerve in my foot has been damaged or is entrapped. The gentle twists and turns of my foot, ankle, calf, and entire leg are attempts to address this.The technique is actually called nerve flossing. I didn’t notice much difference. I was handed off to another therapist who gave me a number of exercises to do that seemed simple but actually were not all that easy, if done correctly.

Most of the exercises were designed to address my lower back and core strength to deal with the possiblity that my problem was related to my back. The doctor had alread ruled this out but the first PT person said that it’s possible that the EMG test was done when the nerve was not fully misbehaving, and thereby led to a false assesment.

I was doing fine, partly because many of the exercises were variations on the PT I routinely do for my back and core and on the yoga poses I do. Two exercises were particularly notable. First, I was doing something called the pointing dog. It involves kneeling on all fours and extending your right arm and left leg while squeezing your stomach and butt. Nearly all the exercises involved squeezing core and butt so by the time I got to the pointing dog my stomach and butt were pretty much all squeezed out. When I did the exercise my numbness in my right foot untensified and spread from below my ankle to pretty much my entire foot. Instead of numbing it was now tingling. We modified the exercise and made a note.

The second exercise that seemed to be fruitful was using a lacrosse ball to knead the muscles in my calves, my quadriceps and my hanstrings. This had no discernable effect on my hams or quads, but it hurt like hell on my calves. Each calf was all knots of tight muscles. Ah ha!

Of course, I have no idea if this has anything to do with my numb foot but it was interesting none the less. I go back next week for two more PT sessions. In the meantime, I am reconsidering rolfing, because it seems as if it might involve the kind of deep muscle massage that the lacrosse ball is getting at. A friend of mine highly recommends a rolfer in DC. Once I close the loop with the neurologist at the end of the month, I may give the rolfer a call.

Joyful

I don’t know what has gotten into me. Maybe it’s the contrast with feeling so depressed over the last two months. This morning when I left for work it was 26 degrees. That would have had me looking at the car with just a month ago. Now I was eager to start pedalling.

So I did.

I was a bit cold for a couple of miles. I went by the site of yesterday’s downed tree. It had been removed. but somebody’s probably without cable service as the cables were still lying on the ground.

I made it down to the river without apparent effort. It’s been a long time since I was able to ride four days in a row without feeling tired. No problem today, though. When I arrived at the Dyke Marsh bridge the sun was rising so I had to stop for a photo and just to admire the beauty. No two sunrises are alike, I suppose. My hat’s off to the man in the sky. You paint awesome pictures.

Once again I was in mediation mode. Miles whizzed by and I have no recollection of them. Just the cold air going in and out of my lungs, the cold breeze chilling my face.

At the troll bridge, I spotted the great blue heron again. It was perched in the low hanging branch of a tree about 15 feet from the edge of the trail. I stopped to admire it and take a picture. I feared that the squeak of my brakes and the sight of me fumbling around with the phone would scare it off, but it waited patiently. I am ready for my close-up, Mr. Rootchopper.

My morning photography complete, I rode up the switchback to Rosslyn. The hill didn’t bother me at all. What is going on? I never smile while climbing.

I went to turn left onto the Lynn Street sidewalk as I do every morning. A car in the nearest lane was rolling forward toward the red light. I guessed that it wasn’t going to stop. And it didn’t. If I had simply followed the law I would have been hit. Instead I yelled at the driver, who was conversing on his cell phone as he turned, oblivious to me or the pedestrains crossing from the opposite side. He looked over at me, shrugged, and drove on. Police were getting set up for traffic enforcement just a few yards up the road. Too bad they weren’t quite ready for him. A walker coming from the opposite side of the crosswalk shook his head and said, “What a jerk.”

Despite Mr. Shrug I maintained my good humor and was rewarded with an invisible cloud of donut aroma. It got stronger as I approached the entrance to my building. A donut truck was parked there, pumping donut essences into the cold air. What a perfect capstone to a bike commute. (I resisted the urge to purchase as the aroma of a donut far exceeds the eating.)

As I parked my bike, I took a drink from my water bottle. Yesterday morning, it was solid ice. Today, it took a little doing to free up the valve but I managed to get cold, cold water from it and it was better than the finest wine.

The ride home featured a headwind. Ack! The gods are messing with my commute bliss. It also featured a temperature of 54 degrees. I could ride without my clumsy overshoes. Headwind? Who cares? This was great. And it was light out for ten of the 15 miles of my trip.

I could get used to this.

23 Degrees and Grateful

23 degrees in the shade. Except it was dark. I took off aboard The Mule well before sunrise to make a 7:30 physical therapy appointment on the way to work. I got about a mile from home when the fruits of last night’s gusting winds became evident:

I briefly considered walking around the tree on the lawn to the right. Then I saw the wires and cables near the curb and thought better of it. I backtracked about a half mile and began my trek anew.

I made it to the Dyke Marsh bridge just as the sun was rising. My name is Rootchopper and I am a sunrise addict.

I stopped again under the Wilson Bridge to admire a lift being used to diddle around with the underside of the I95 roadway far above. The lift completely blocked the trail. Nobody bothered to direct traffic because I was pretty much all the traffic that there was to direct. I stopped and took a picture for the hell of it:

All this stopping and gawking was eating up time. So I boogeyed on up the trail to the physical therapist, located conveniently right on the trail just north of Old Town.

My therapist gave me an extensive exam, ruling out causes for my numb right foot. He gave me a couple of PT exercises to do and we set up a schedule for follow up visits. One of the exercises is the standard runner’s lean to stretch the calf muscle. The other uses a belt to stretch the hamstrings. Looks like the acupuncturist and the PT man are on the same page.

The rest of the ride to work was cold but uneventful. I managed to avoid some black ice here and there. North of the airport I waved to @bilsko as he headed southward. Next I tried to get Mrs. Rootchopper’s attention as she sat in a long line of cars headed for the 14th Street bridge. She didn’t see me. She didn’t look very happy. I was cold but at least I was smiling – and moving.

Temperatures had climbed into the 30s for the ride home. Winds were light. And I was feeling pretty darn good after a low stress day at the office. To be honest, it was just about the nicest ride home I’ve had in a long time. I took in the monuments. They never get old. Every so often a bird flew across the trail. Some Canada geese flew over the river. There were no hills to slow me. When I feel like this, the ride becomes rolling meditation. My mind just ignores the stresses of life and goes on a vacation. I sing (badly). (“Fall at Your Feet” by Crowded House/Neil Finn has been my earworm for three days now.)

As I made my way south of Old Town, the full moon shone above the far bank of the river. It cast a perfect moonbeam on the water. I’d have taken a picture, but it would not have done it justice. It was jaw-droppingly beautiful. I am sooo grateful for my commute route.

Black ice kept appearing in front of me and I just sailed around it. There was no way I was going down tonight. Just not going to happen.

I arrived home to see a small box on my doorstep. My repaired headset had arrived from Chris King. Wanting not to push my cycling luck, I hopped in the car and drove to Spokes Etc. Belle View store where Little Nellie had been stashed during the repair. They should have my steed back to me tomorrow. I’ve missed you Little Nellie.

Beautiful sunrise, full moon, meditative ride, and repaired bike. Not a bad day.

Grateful.

The Answer, My Friend,….

The ride in today was cool and wet and gray. I tried to think positive thoughts but everytime I did I was confronted with cool and wet and gray. Cool and wet and gray doesn’t float my proverbial boat. I did finally get a bit of a treat for all the gloom. As I was about to leave the troll bridge (underneath the supremely ugly TR Bridge) I spotted a large great blue heron on the river bank below. It was tucked in, not stalking for food like a praying mantis with feathers. It was one colorful bird. I decided not to take a picture to leave it in peace.

The ride home was something else all together. The gloom and wet of the morning had given way to dry air and tropical strorm force winds. Once I made the descent to the Mount Vernon Trail I felt a force like an enormous hand on the middle of my back. It started pushing me with all its might. I was barely pedalling and going 17 miles per hour.

Occasionally there would be gusts. At one point opposite the Washington Monument a massive gust shoved me forward. I yelled “WOW” and started laughing. A man on a CaBi tank bike came zooming past. He had spun out and was sitting straight up using his body as a sail. Margaret Hamilton, phone home.

I had to follow the path due west at the airport. Now my tailwind was a side wind. I leaned into it and rode on a slant for a couple hundred yards. When I climbed up from under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge I was again heading west. The sound wall to my right was creating a funnel for the wind. My speed slowed to 4 miles per hour and I was doing everything I could to keep moving. Dang!

South of the Beltway I encountered tree limb after tree limb. Debris was falling out of the trees all around. As the comedian Ron White says about hurricanes, “It’s not THAT the wind is blowing, it’s WHAT the wind is blowing.”

I pulled into my yard and began to ride around the side of the house when I spotted several small logs on the ground. They appeared to be part of a large rotten limb that had snapped off a tree and shattered on impact with the ground.

There’s a hell of a lot more blowin’ in the wind than answers.

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