I struggle with October. The weather is nearly perfect for laying in a hammock. Alas, I don’t have one and wouldn’t want to have to deal with one (storing, cleaning, hanging, etc.). So I mostly just ride. My legs are starting to feel the effects of over 8,300 miles of riding in 2025. My body seems to be hanging on by a thread of a tendon, I suppose. My right arm is still barking at me despite my attempts to strengthen it. My back is a disaster area. What I wouldn’t give for the recuperative powers of my youth.
Riding
This month’s event ride was The Great Pumpkin Ride. I’ve done this about a dozen times. It’s hard to beat Virginia countryside in the fall. I did this year’s ride on Big Nellie. All went well except for the fact that my rear wheel started falling off, proving there really is a first time for everything.
I followed that 63-mile day with a 51-mile ride to see the foliage in Rock Creek Park. Otherwise it was a run of the mill month of riding reaching 901 miles. I’m at 8,692 miles so far this year. Will I make it to 10,000 miles again? Stay tuned.
I also started doing 2- to 3-mile walks with my trekking poles. My back holds up and the poling action seems to be helping my shoulder.
Reading
The Impossible Fortune by Richard Osman. Yet another Thursday Murder Club mystery. Osman writes them; I read them. No complaints. Breezy, clever, and funny. A good way to pass the time between baseball playoff games and bike rides.
Watching
Baseball. I’ve seen most of the playoff games including Shohei Ohtani’s game for the ages against the Brewers. I’ve seen a couple of 10-RBI games, one by Fred Lynn and the other by Anthony Rendon. And I’ve seen plenty of 10-strikeout games. Seeing someone do both was a bit mind boggling. The 2025 World Series is one for the ages.
The Comeback: Red Sox 2004 – A three-hour documentary about the 2004 Red Sox post season with commentary from (among others) Ben Affleck and Matt Damon. Affleck’s memories matched mine to a T. After the Sox won the 2004 World Series, I stopped watching baseball for a couple of years. Nothing could match the Comeback. (Until the 2019 Nats pulled some magic of their own.)
From Rails to Trails – An in interesting historical account of how rail trails became a thing. There are a few good ones within 200 miles of home but my local area has three non-rail trails – Mount Vernon, the C&O Canal Towpath, and the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail (and it’s northern extensions along the Anacostia tributaries). The documentary didn’t mention my favorite: the Great Allegheny. If you haven’t ridden it, you really should.
For a variety of reasons, I found Saturday’s 62-mile bike ride to be frustrating and exhausting. To make matters worse, I didn’t even bother to take pictures of the beautiful scenery I was riding through.
Today’s ride was better. I left home in shorts into a 43-degree headwind, headed for Rock Creek Park in DC for some good old fashioned leaf peeping. The first ten miles were a chilly slog; I was underdressed and the headwind felt like a relentless uphill grind.
After 10 miles, roughly at National Airport, I found a rhythm. Five more miles cruising along the river brought me to the mouth of the wooded urban canyon known as Rock Creek Park.
I was happy to find that the walls of the canyon blocked the headwind making for much easier pedaling. For a few miles I rode the paved trail without a care until I arrived at the National Zoo. The trail continues along the edge of the Zoo compound, but the Smithsonian which owns the Zoo had closed off the trail because of the government shutdown. The trail which doesn’t actually go into the Zoo itself could just as easily been left open but whadareyagonnado?
Riding north in the southern part of Rock Creek Park
No trail for you!
Rock Creek and all those leaves
I duck-walked my bike on the narrow side path through the adjacent tunnel along Beach Drive, the road along the Creek. Once back in the open air, the rest of the ride was mighty sweet. The grade of the road probably averages about one percent as it winds its way along the creek. With very little traffic of any sort, the riding was peaceful and mediative. I stopped to have a snack and take pictures.
Beach Drive going over Rock Creek
The grade is not nearly as steep as the picture shows. Easy riding.
At about 25 miles, I began the climb out of the Park and rode west a couple of miles to Bethesda where I picked up the Capital Crescent Trail for the return trip. As I started out I passed two dog walkers who had between them about a dozen dogs on leashes. The dogs seemed perfectly calm as they ambled en masse down the trail.
On the Capital Crescent Trail
The riding was easy and breezy thanks to the tailwind and the gentle down grade all the way to the Potomac at the Georgetown waterfront. As the day wore on, the cloud cover was building. I wasn’t dressed for rain so I got down to business and rode without delay.
In Old Town Alexandria I encountered some mist. Is that rain? Nope, just river water churned up by my friendly tailwind.
The tailwind made the last few miles a piece of cake. I arrived home feeling much better than at any time during Saturday’s ride. Riding when your 70 is something of a crap shoot, I suppose, but just think how the Mule feels having broken the 81,000-mile mark somewhere in Alexandria today. The Mule didn’t complain once. The Mule abides.
Yesterday I rode the Great Pumpkin Ride in Fauquier County, Virginia. I have a closet full of the shirts they give out to attendees so I am pretty sure I’ve ridden this event more than a dozen times. The long-sleeved, lightweight shirts are made of technical fabric; they are excellent base layers for cold winter rides.
On Friday night, I stayed up to watch Game 2 of the World Series. I woke up before my alarm at about 4:45. Nothing like riding a 62-mile event when sleep deprived, I always say. After persuading Big Nellie onto my bike rack in the dark, I drove an hour to Warrenton and checked in a little after 7:30. The temperature was a toasty 33 degrees. Ugh.
While waiting around I found myself in conversation with another rider with an interesting English accent. He told me when he came to this country many years ago he worked as a jockey. He raced at east coast venues like Saratoga. After his riding days were over he became a horse dentist. Open wide! He goes from place to place filing down the irregularities on horses’ teeth which allows them to chew their hay better. Who knew? He loves his work. To each his own I suppose.
At 9 we set off, a mass start on a narrow rail trail. I waited a bit to avoid the insanity so I waited for most of the field to get underway. Being a slowpoke and the only recumbent in the field I took care to avoid the impatient lycra-clad roadies who were desperate to set a record on the ride. (I am pretty sure these are the same people who stand as soon as the plane reaches the gate.) Ugh again. In prior years I’ve seen these same folks crash along the course. No two-wheeled karma this year though. I suppose there is hope for the future.
In the past the course took a counter-clockwise route but this year it was reversed. The familiar seems novel when seen from a different perspective. Mostly we rode through farmland, post-harvest and pre-peak foliage. The pallet was dominated by brown leaves and fields of dirt offset by sunny blue skies. (Sorry no pictures. I was busy suffering.)
The first eight miles headed more or less downhill and east into the rising sun. Visibility was difficult. I was cruising down one hill at about 25 miles per hour when out of the sunlight I saw a road rider coming my way. WTF! He must have dropped something but he was unaware that he was backlit and nearly invisible.
The next eight miles were rolling hills through farmland. I noticed that my pedals felt funny on the uphills. Onward. I came to the first rest stop (normally one of the last) at 16.5 miles. I was expecting in a few miles later but grateful as I had a need for a blue room visit. With temperatures soaring into the mid 40s (thankfully it wasn’t windy) I changed into shorts and a vest then joined the long line for relief. The wait was about 15 minutes. Not wanting another 15 minute wait for food, I grabbed a quarter bagel from the crowded food table and set out into a more wooded section of the course.
As I negotiated each hill, that funny feeling in my pedals returned. On hills I use my granny gear, with the chain on the smallest chainring in front. The low gear creates some slack in the chain. The slack is taken up by an idler roughly under my seat.
The ride progressed uneventfully. I managed to avoid two wrong turns along the way. The terrain was rolling. With each climb that funny feeling while pedaling returned. Is my pedal or crank arm coming loose? The more I rode, the worse the feeling became. It became clear that the problem was emanating from the rear of the bike. Was my cassette (the cluster of gears in the back) coming apart? Oddly, the chain wasn’t skipping across the cogs; it was completely disengaging.
The problem worsened. I stopped using my granny gear, opting for my middle chain ring for climbing. After a few miles, the chain problem began to happen in that chainring as well. I’d been riding bikes with gears for over 50 years but nothing like this had ever happened before.
After the rolling wooded area, the course flattened out a bit. An small oncoming SAG (Support and Gear) car came by. The driver could see that I was distressed and asked if I needed help. I waved him off but he did a u-turn and pulled over to make sure I was okay. We agreed that I would continue on to a rest stop in the town of Remington where a bigger SAG vehicle could give me a ride to the finish.
As I continued to ride, I though that maybe the problem was with the rear wheel itself. I made it to a half mile before the rest stop when the back of my bike went totally wonky on the short rise to a railroad crossing. I pulled over and inspected the rear end of the bike. I picked up the back of the bike and the rear wheel dropped off! Somehow the quick release on the wheel had become disengaged. The chain had been keeping the wheel from falling off while I was riding. Dang.
Doing roadside repairs on a long wheel base recumbent is difficult. I managed to get the chain entangled with the right brake pad and to knock the left brake pad cassette out of its holder. I wrestled with the chain, then after a couple of attempts, during which I wrenched my lower back, I seated the rear axle into the frame. Finally, I coaxed the left brake pad back into its proper orientation. I lifted the wheel and gave it a spin. Bob’s your uncle.
Crossing the tracks, I immediately took a wrong turn, adding a half mile to my ride. Eventually, I found the pit stop where the SAG drivers were breaking down the food tables. (No soup for you!) They had heard about the recumbent rider in distress and were ready to help me out. No need, gentlemen. I thanked them and headed out for the next six or seven miles along the rail line, blissfully devoid of hills.
Since we rode downhill out of Warrenton at the start, it was only fair that we’d ride uphill to the finish. I felt very sluggish as I rode. At one point I stopped to see if my rear wheel was properly aligned. No problem. Right as rain. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ride 62 miles on a quarter bagel and a Clif bar. Ya think?
On the way home I dropped off Big Nellie for some TLC at Bikes at Vienna. Take care of my baby, Tim.
As for riding, I’ll do better next Saturday when The Mule and I take on the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s 60-mile Cider Ride. Stay tuned and check those quick release levers, y’all.
Big Nellie near the starting line (at the caboose in the background).
My wife came home with apple cider donuts. They came in a pack of 8. These are not good for you. I ate 3. I am weak.
I have had a recurring credit card mystery this year. In July I was charged $51 by a company called Spiz. They sell a “meal replacement” powder. They do not sell an apple cider donut replacement powder. Lame! I have never heard of Spiz so I contacted my credit card provider and filed a fraud claim. I received a new card and thought all was copacetic until I received another $51 charge for Spiz meal replacement powder in September. I contacted my credit card provider and filed another fraud claim.
I got to thinking: have I twice ordered anything online that costs $51? The only thing I could think of was my Knee Saver pedal extenders. They cost $45. It turns out they charge $6 for shipping. Bingo. I searched the Kneesaver.net website and clicked on “About” in the menu. Near the bottom of a long page of company history I found that the Knee Saver is a side gig of the Spiz meal replacement powder company. Mystery solved. I called the credit card company and canceled my fraud claims.
I can’t speak for the quality of the powder but I think the pedal extenders are great. Just add water. (I’m kidding.)
The riding weather has been splendid for a few weeks but I haven’t gone for a long ride. Sad face. This year I gave up mowing my own lawn. Last week the lawn service aerated my lawn then spread an astonishing amount of grass seed over the whole thing. I have to water it twice a day. Once at breakfast time and once in the early afternoon. This cramps my riding style to say the least.
The bike computer on Big Nellie quit working last week. I replaced the battery and all is well. It turns out that the tire manufacturer says the wheel size in millimeters is 1540 (the call numbers for a rock and roll radio station of my youth. I inputted this number and, using 10 miles worth of mileage markers on the Mount Vernon Trail, I determined that it was 4 percent too big. Annoying. My tires are made in Germany. No fahrvergnugen for me.
A few days later the same model bike computer on The Mule went dark. I replaced the battery and it woke up. I rode 30 miles, and all was well. The next day I rode to DC. The computer stopped receiving a signal from the magnet on the front wheel. Riding for an hour with a big 0 miles per hour on your bike computer is depressing. I may have to replace the computer.
A few days ago I rode past an man walking his German shepherd. Both of them were old and flabby. I said “nice dog” as I rode by. The man didn’t hear me. Neither did his dog. When the dog saw me he lunged at me and growled. The man said “You should give a warning.” I told him controlling the dog was his job not mine. He told me to “Eff off”. Except he didn’t say “eff”.
Today, I came to a T intersection an half mile from home. It’s a three-way stop. I looked left and right then proceeded to make a left turn. Just as I did I heard an engine roar and a tire squeal. A pickup truck screeched to a halt to my right. He didn’t see or car about his stop sign. I stopped before crossing in front of him. I gave him a WTF look. I started up again and he passed me on the left. He said something that sounded aggressive to me. I yelled “Slow the eff down!” Except I didn’t say “eff”. Effs are contagious.
My early morning rides to Friday Coffee Club now begin in the dark. Last week I even had to wear long pants. Dang. The best thing about these rides is the sunrise over the Potomac.
It seems a shame that we sleep through this most days
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 