It’s rainy and cold and gross outside. This morning I took my car to the mechanic because it’s brakes are seizing and causing smells and heat and unpleasantness. After walking home, I took The Mule out for a quick 16 mile jaunt before the weather hit. And when I entered the miles into my spreadsheet (Strava? Pshaw!) I crossed the 11,000 mile threshold.

So this year, like Nigel Tufnel’s amplifier, goes to 11.

Here are some things I am thankful for.

• Being alive (not to mention the fact that I didn’t have a stroke last December).
• The doctors, nurses, radiology techs and other medicos who brought me back to health.
• The fine folks who invented Xarelto, compression sleeves, and aspirin.
• The friends and family who visited me and sent me gifts and good wishes during my recovery.
• Friday Coffee Club.
• The Mule.
• All the people who sheltered me, fed me, and gave me such good company during and after my ride across America.
• Meditative solitude for miles and miles and miles.
• Pizza and craft beer, turquoise mountain waters, the owl in the road in the middle of the night, Square Butte, and the Painted Canyon.
• The Swiss Nirvana fan, the plant nerd, and the artist from Juneau.
• Meeting Tommy.
• Afterglow.
• My 50 States posse.
• Magic Juan.
• Hamilton.
• Happy hours and sad (but necessary) protests.
• Facetime with my boy (and his girl).
• The return of the scorekeeper.
• Mrs. RC for enabling a pretty incredible year.

I realize I mentioned the fact that I was going to see my hematologist and my pulmonologist for a status check. Sorry to leave you all hanging.

Both visits were little more than conversations. “How are you feeling?” “Are you having any symptoms?” etc.

Long story short: I’m doing fine. Mentally, I have never been better. Thanks to the bike tour and the afterglow.  Of course, a year ago, I was feeling my oats and then the wheels fell off the cart in December. Like the song says, I could go at anytime. There’s nothing safe about his life.

So I have a green light from both medical specialists. Bueno.

Speaking of afterglow, my blogging friend Brittany is glowing like a lava lamp after a very cool summer in Yellowstone. Check it out here.

 

 

Crisp. Gentle breezes. 45 degrees. Sunny. Good day to curl up with some hot tea.

But no, I decided to finish off the Boundary Stone Route.

So I rode 20 miles to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens where I abandoned the route a few days ago.

It being Veterans Day the streets and trails were empty. So the ride to the gardens was pretty much effortless

Once in the route I failed to find the first stone at the intersection of Eastern and Kenilworth Avenue.

No worries. Just a few miles southeast on Eastern Avenue led me to the East stone.it was in a wooded area but the fence surrounding it was easy to spot.

The ride along Eastern Avenue was quite hilly but nothing like the climbing festival that awaited me in Southern Avenue.

The rollers would have been easier but for the red lights at the bottom of each descent.

Some of the stones are located in hard to find spots so I decided that to keep things moving along I would only look for the stones within eyesight of the road.

I rode the Southern Avenue roller coaster toward the southwest breathing in the crisp autumn air and a pretty significant amount of second hand marijuana smoke.

At the end of Southern Avenue the route takes you around a strip mall and to a bridge over a man made stream. Except the bridge was there. Instead was a man made rapid that I decided not to ford.

I could have ridden into an adjacent neighborhood to get to the last stone but decided against it. I’d have had to bushwhack through some high weeds and shrubs to find the stone. Then I’d get to climb up the nasty, bumpy hill at Oxon Farm. Instead I retreated to the frontage road of the highway and used that to ride up Oxon Hill.

The ride home involved a pleasant descent to the Potomac then a climb with a spiral ramp to get to the Woodrow Wilson Bridge Trail.

The trail features numerous bone jarring expansion joints that Maryland transportation officials seem unable to fix or mitigate.

So my Boundary Stone make up ride is complete. It was pretty tedious and hilly. I’ll bet it’s a lot more fun with other people along for the ride.

The Mule and I managed to ride 43.5 miles today.

Tomorrow I go back to the hematologist for a status check on my blood clots. Tuesday I visit the pulmonologist for the same reason. No worries.

On the way home from Friday Coffee Club Little Nellie reaches a milestone. I suppose this means she’s no longer a minor.

Last night, I watched the election while drinking beer and eating chips and guacamole. I was feeling like a blob before the evening began; by the end of it I felt roly poly.

There was just one thing to do. I went for a long bike ride today. The weather was on board allowing me to ride in shorts. Not bad for November.

A few weeks ago I had planned to participate in the annual Boundary Stone Ride. The night before I watched an 18-inning baseball game. Need less to say, I slept in and missed the ride. But I did get the cue sheet.

What is the Boundary Stone Ride? When it was decided to establish the District of Columbia (thanks to that Hamilton chap), surveyors laid out boundary stones in a square. The square was rotated so that its corners pointed north, south, east, and west. This is because the founding fathers were incredibly anal.

Anyway, ten boundary stones were laid along all four sides of the square. 36 of them are still there, over 225 years later. Somebody nearly as anal as the founding fathers decided to ride a bike to each stone. The ride is over 60 miles long even though the square is 40 miles in circumference.

I rode to the South stone in Jones Point Park on the Mount Vernon Trail. It was overcast but the weather was just right for Little Nellie, posing here at Dyke Marsh.

The route goes clockwise mostly northwest on King Street through Alexandria. Since the stones are arrayed in straight lines the ride goes up and down hills rather than around them.

Near Seven Corners the route turns toward the northeast. I rode on streets I’d never seen before, and I have lived here since 1984. In North Arlington I went down a side street to find a stone. It was on someone’s back yard so I couldn’t see it. At least these folks were decent enough to have a gorgeous red tree in their front yard for me to gawk at.

The route took me down a scary hill to the Potomac River at Chain Bridge. Across the river I picked up the muddy C&O Canal towpath and then pushed Little Nellie up a flight of stairs to get on the Capital Crescent Trail. I very nearly fell down the stairs as my grip on the bike slipped.

Across the river I climbed up to Massachusetts Avenue and then to Western Avenue which runs along the northwest boundary of DC. From time to time I could see a stone off to my left. By this point I had missed finding about five stones so I was more concerned about the riding than the stones.

Down into and up out of Rock Creek Park brought me to scary East West Highway. It took me several tries but I finally found the North stone tucked away near the edge of a parking lot. Note the cage that surrounds the stone to protect it from evil doers.

From here the route points southeast, more or less. Eastern Avenue is the boundary road but the route meanders about. By this point I pretty much stopped looking for the stones. I was more concerned about avoiding being car chow.

In Colman Manor the route put me on the Anacostia River Trail System. After a wrong turn, I found familiar pavement and crossed the river. I stopped at Bladensburg Waterfront Park to use a blue room and refill my water bottles. I had ridden over 45 miles so far and it occurred to me that breakfast was about to wear off. Also sunset was only about 1/2 hour away.

I decided to abandon the last third of the ride and head home on the Anacostia Trail. As I  rode to the 11th Street Bridge, crossed the river, and headed toward Nationals Park. Once there I followed my route to my house from summer days and nights at home. This involved dodging pedestrians and cars near the DC Wharf and nimjas on the Mount Vernon Trail. (Get some lights, people.)

I arrived home after 70 miles.

I still feel like a blob. A sore blob.

But it was so worth it.