Category: #bikedc

The Cider Ride: Fourth Time Is a Charm

Yesterday was the fourth annual Cider Ride, the last ride of the year for WABA, the Washington Area Bicyclist Association. The Cider Ride was the creation of Michelle Cleveland whose mission in life is to see me die of exhaustion, nasty weather, and other calamities while on a bike. I am happy to report that she failed again.

Michelle handed the reins for this ride over to Nick Russo. Every so often, a really good baseball team gets a new manager. Success is defined by not screwing a good thing up. Nick succeeded. This is partly because he went into the basement of WABA’s World Headquarters and disabled the WABA weather machine which is notorious for dialing up hurricanes, freezing rain, swamp heat, and tsunamis.

The first Cider Ride took us to the wilds of Prince Georges County, Maryland in early December. It was cold. The roads were bumpy and the drivers were somewhat impatient. One of them ran over a friend of mine. So it was decided to move the ride to Montgomery County, Maryland. This ride was colder than the previous ride plus it had wind and rain. Most people cut their rides short. I took the sag wagon. (Thanks Gina!)

Then somebody got the great idea to move the ride up a month to November and to make use of all the trails running through the Anacostia River watershed. Genius! Pretty fall foliage plus minimal car traffic made for a vastly improved experience. It also imported a tradition from WABA’s 50 States Ride: the impossibly complicated cue sheet. WABA’s  motto: “Getting lost is part of the fun!”

(Actual cue written by Michelle Cleveland: “Just after the little intersection but before the traffic light, take a right on the sidewalk. Avoid the light poles, loose concrete, and accumulated sand while you thread your way under the darkest overpass ever constructed until you take a right to take a left at a the Walker Road traffic light. May god have mercy on your soul.” Michelle’s motto: “I have nothing to offer but my own confusion.”)

Last year’s ride was mighty fine. I got lost. I had fun. And donuts. And pie. And I got a mug. This year’s ride was the same except that in the weeks before the ride, a new section of the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail opened up. So the route was revised adding 5 more miles of complexity and confusion. Brilliant!!!

With no rain, calmish winds, and temperatures holding in the 50s the ride was a pleasant meander. Riders stopped to adjust their clothing. The cool air was just that sort of in between temperature that gives autumn bike commuters fits. The discomfort was minor. The foliage was major! Peak!

We endured the blinding colors.

After riding the streets of Northeast DC we hopped on the older Anacostia trails and headed north along the river. In College Park we stopped at Proteus Bikes where hot cider and doughnuts awaited. Next, we passed through the low traffic roads of the Agricultural Research complex and the National Wildlife Federation facility near Beltsville Maryland.

We headed back south and toured Greenbelt Maryland, a planned community dating to the New Deal. At a rest stop in a Greenbelt park we inhaled pie and hot cocoa. Also, a yellowjacket stung my right middle finger. It swelled up so much it was useless against obnoxious drivers for the rest of the day. (Actually, it didn’t swell up and I abstained from using my BSL, bicyclist sign language, for the duration of the ride.)

Somewhere on the return through Riverdale Maryland I lost my cue sheet. This was Michelle’s fault because I blame her for everything. Actually, I had lost my cue sheet holder thingie and forgot to bring a binder clip. So I was pulling the cue sheet out of my vest pocket throughout the ride until I apparently missed when I went to put it back in. Derp.

I followed the slowest group that ever remained upright on bicycles to another rest stop at a bakery where I hooked up with another more faster group that I hoped was going my way. It was.

We made our way to the brand spanking new section of the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail. Bravo to WABA for adding this to the route. This trail rivals the Mount Vernon Trail and the W &OD Trail west of Leesburg for scenery. Fortunately the riders ahead of me knew where to get off the trail (Benning Road) so that we could make our way to the finish. I overheard one of them say “C Street” before they rode away. No worries. I decided to take C to the 1st Street cycletrack to the Metropolitan Branch Trail. Two riders who were unsure of the route gave me their cue sheet and it confirmed that my route exactly matched the official route.

And so we rode the last few miles together.

I arrived at the finish at the Dew Drop Inn rather exhausted. Here’s why:

  • Monday and Tuesday – 30 mile commutes
  • Wednesday – fast, as in no food, 30 mile commute
  • Thursday – colonoscopy
  • Friday – 30 mile commute
  • Saturday – 36 mile ride
  • Sunday – 26 mile ride
  • Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday – 30 mile commutes
  • Cider Ride.

Suffice it to say that my legs were dead throughout the ride. But I still had a good time. And I got to see several #bikedc friends during the ride and at the after party at the Dew Drop.

After four years, the Cider Ride has really hit its stride. It’s an excellent addition to the Vasa Ride in March and the 50 States Ride in September.

Many thanks to the the volunteers, the providers of snackage and cider and cocoa. Special thanks to Nick for his hard work. And to Michelle, the Ginsberg of cue sheets, who I kid relentlessly and admire intensely.

 

 

How the Grinch Stole Blinkiemas

About this time every year, various local groups hand out free bike lights. It’s like early Christmas for Trail Ninjas. I thought this would begin next week with the end of daylight savings time. I was pleasantly surprised to see people handing out lights at the intersection between the Crystal City connector trail and the Mount Vernon Trail last night. The giveaway was sponsored by the Crystal City Business Improvement District.

Last year at this site the CCBID bike light elves were rousted by the Grinches from National Park Service Police because they didn’t have a permit. This year, a Park Service person was helping to hand the lights out. You could practically hear Whos singing.

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Some time ago WABA started reaching out to the Park Service in the hopes of making it more bike friendly. Looks like it’s working. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that WABA’s Director Greg Billing and Deputy Director Nelle Pierson were on hand for the giveaway last night.

I believe that there are more light giveaways next week. There is one at the Intersection of Doom in Rosslyn on Monday night.

And WABA announced these giveaways last night.

If you already have bike lights, change the batteries this weekend.

 

Brain Squirrels on the Trail

  • Since Monday I’ve ridden 150 miles. Just riding back and forth to work. The Cider Ride is tomorrow. They added a few miles to it. Now it’s over 50 miles. I think I’m gonna need a bigger doughnut.
  • I did my 150th bike commute of 2016 on Tuesday. One of my commutes was done on 4 hours of sleep thanks to the Cubs. I am now prepared for when the Nats win it all next November.
  • I have 300 days to go before I retire. Not that I am counting down the days or anything. When I became eligible to retire a few years ago, I took all the plaques and awards that I had received over my career and threw them away.
  • There are 15o days to go before opening day at Nats Park.
  • A numerologist would wet his pants reading this blog post.
  • The number of sightings of #bikedc commuters  I know is declining. This week only Lawyer Mike and Shawn. I saw Hoppy Runner this morning though.
  • The foliage is pretty awesome this week. I haven’t taken a single picture. Others are doing a much better job of it.
  • I am not riding to work at all next week. This is not a protest. I will be away on business travel.DC to Palo Alto is a little beyond my bike commuting comfort zone.
  • I forgot a password at work. I called our IT help desk. They said, “Just keep guessing.” After some research online, I ended up doing just that. Only when I gave up and guessed my very first computer password (on which most of my subsequent complex passwords are based) did I hit the jackpot. When I retire, I am going to become an IT desk professional.
  • My boss used to use the word “oublier” as a password. It’s French for “to forget.”
  • Nick Hornby is one of my favorite authors. He also reviews books. He once observed that there are well-written books that are not read well. You know the kind that everyone says is the greatest but it doesn’t do a thing for you. For me, The Great Gatsby falls into this not well read category.
  • A friend of mine is like a good book that I don’t read well anymore. The first 7 chapters were a great read. The last 2 not so much. No matter I how much I re-read them, they don’t work for me at all anymore. I was hoping chapter 10 would turn things around. No luck. It’s very discouraging.
  • Friendship is a one-way street in Providence. I am not making this up.
  • I watched a video that claims Donald Trump is illiterate. I disagree. Based on the video and personal experience, I am pretty sure that he is severely dyslexic. As it turns out, many executives are dyslexic. From an early age they learn how to manipulate people to do things on their behalf.

Happenings and Other Random Nonsense

  •  I was nearly hit less than a quarter mile from home tonight. I saw it coming. The car was coming from a side street to my right. The driver was looking to her right, away from me. When she saw she had no cars coming from the right, she started her left hand turn, directly into my path. I turned to her, shined my helmet-mounted light right into her eyes, and said in a very loud and measured way “WHAT…THE…FUCK….ARE…..YOU…DOOOO….ING?” She stopped abruptly. Then she honked her horn at me. I guess she felt embarrassed at her own incompetence. Better her red face than my dead face.
  • What would she have done if I were a truck instead of a bike? I guess it would depend on how quickly her ambulance arrived.
  • Yesterday, I had a close encounter with a deer for the second time in a week on the Mount Vernon Trail. It’s that time of year. Seeing deer up close is disconcerting. Not nearly as freaky as a kangaroo though.
  • Tonight I saw a once well-known, local corporate executive running on the trail near Rosslyn. He sued his father in a dispute over the family business. He always looks like he just bit into a lemon. Every time I see him I wonder what his karma will be.
  • I often see a local sportscaster/play by play man on the trail running north as I head south toward Old Town. He was my son’s baseball coach freshman year in high school. The way he interacted with umpires cracked me up. Instead of yelling and getting mad, he’d calmly walk toward the ump, wag his finger, shake his head, and say in a quiet voice: “No. No. No.”
  • My high school baseball coach was a genius. One of his players screwed up a defensive play. Coach: “What are you doing?” Player: “I thought…” Coach: “Don’t think. DO.” It’s funny what you remember from high school.
  • My high school French teacher got mad one day when he smelled something foul in his classroom. “Fellows. Nobody gonna fart in my class.” Needless to say not a lot got done for the next half hour.
  • Have you ever seen a baby learn to crawl? They try with every cell in their body to move forward and they move backward instead. They haven’t gotten to the “do” part yet.
  • Dogs probably don’t think to much about lying down. But they always seem to spin around three times before they do.
  • And, because this blog is supposed to be about cycling, tonight I passed 7,000 miles for the year.

Another Surly Month

October is done and another 819 miles are behind me. Of course, I am right where I started so the universe remains as nonsensical as ever. I rode to work 15 times this month. I rode Little Nellie once for 21 miles while on a business trip. Otherwise it was all Deets, my Surly Cross Check.

I finally rode the Seagull Century and did the Great Pumpkin Ride for the umpteenth time.

Poor Deets is starting to wear down. He clearly needs a new chain and cassette. I’ll keep riding him until I get through Saturday’s Cider Ride. Then it’s off to the bike shop for some TLC.

For the year, I have logged 148 bike commutes for 4,300 miles. I have also done weekend rides and an 832 mile bike tour which bring my year to date total to 6,975 miles. So, with any kind of luck, I’ll break 7,000 miles tomorrow on the way home from work. Somehow Deets has managed to become my favorite bike. I have ridden it for 2,654 miles, nearly 600 more than The Mule, my old Specialized Sequoia.

October has also seen several deer sightings on my rides home. Tonight there was a young buck with a rather feeble looking set of antlers standing right next to the Mount Vernon Trail at the turnoff to go around the Slaters Lane apartments north of Old Town. We looked at each other. I don’t know who was more surprised. As I came even with him, he bolted into the woods along the river.

 

Weekend Wrap Up

I spent my weekend going to sporting events. Of course, I rode my bike to them because cars are bad and the weather was exceptionally good.

Frogs Win – At Long Last

Before our son went to high school at the Maret School, Mrs. Rootchopper and I vowed never to let him play football. This was long before concussions were such a big concern. We changed our minds because the new football coach was the antithesis of raging lunatic coaches. Soft-spoken Mike Engelberg told us before freshman year began, “I will never yell at your son.” He kept his word. (He whined a hell of a lot, though.) He didn’t so much coach football as he taught it.

For years under Mike, Maret came oh so close to winning its conference. In my son’s senior year, the team nearly pulled it off but lost in a monsoon to Flint Hill School in overtime. That was 7 years ago. On Saturday, I rode to St. Albans School (Maret is so small it does not have its own field) on the grounds of the National Cathedral to watch the undefeated Maret Frogs play Flint Hill. Maret led 14-7 at half time then stepped on the gas and left Flint Hill in the dust, winning 43-14. The Washington Post called it “a thumping.” I swore I could hear Al Michels in my head.

So congratulations to Coach Engelberg and his Maret Frogs. It’s been a long time coming. It was a great way to spend a splendid fall afternoon too.

Trail Sightings

Some sightings on the Mount Vernon Trail are inspiring. Others not so much. On my ride to Maret, I spotted a huge bald eagle in the branches above the Belle Haven nest. Maybe its feathers were fluffed up but it looked bigger than any other eagle I’ve seen this year.

As I approached the Dyke Marsh bridge on the Mount Vernon Trail this morning, I saw an ambulance and fire truck pull off the adjacent parkway and park. At the middle of the bridge there was a cluster of people. As I rode by, I could see at their feet a man, probably in his 60s or 70s, lying on the bridge deck on his side. He had a hat on his head and his head was turned to one side. He appeared to be unconscious. Given the abundance of help already there, I rode on. I hope he is okay but I am not optimistic.

About a mile later I was passed by an approaching runner. It was Running Mom, one of the regular people I see on my commute. This morning she was not pushing her son in his stroller. (He’s over a year old. How she runs so fast pushing him, I’ll never know.) We don’t wave to each other. Usually one or both gives and awkward smile. That’s what we did today. I was a little disappointed that she wasn’t running in the marathon.

Security Nonsense

I got a dose of stupid security theater today. I rode to the 14th Street Bridge. I rode up the grassy slope so I could stand on the guardrail of the closed I-395 and watch the runners at the 19 mile mark as they headed into Virginia. Except today, two police officers told me I couldn’t stand there. Closed to spectators. “You have to leave.” I said, “I’ve been coming here for over 20 years, what are you talking about?” No use. So I left.

I rode to the 14th Street Bridge trail that goes across the Potomac River to the Jefferson Memorial in DC. A group of spectators were standing on the ramp shaking their heads. They told me the trail was closed. So I rode up onto the bridge and spotted the police officer. He was standing on the trail as hundreds of cars rushed by on the roadway a few feet to his left. “Trail is closed.” “Why?” “I don’t decide these things. It’s closed.” He told me the nearest bridge that was open was Key Bridge two miles away.

I understand the Tsarnaev Brothers. I understand terrorism. But there is really only about 100 feet of the bridge that poses a security concern. Why not ban people from standing on that part of the bridge? And if you are going to ban pedestrians and bikes, why allow cars and trucks? And if you are going to have police stationed to close these places why not have them just provide actual security (like bag checks) to the spectators instead?

I unloaded on the cop. We’ve come to this? There are probably a half million people lining the marathon course and you pick these two isolated spots to shut down. Really?

I back tracked two miles to Crystal City. There were Marines and the occasional police officer but nobody was checking bags or barring people from standing on the side of the road. I saw one bomb sniffing dog. Once. In about two and a half hours.

Porous security isn’t security. It’s security theater. It makes nervous people feel better. It pisses everybody else off. If you live in DC, you really get tired of this nonsense.

Spectating

I parked myself at the 20.9 and 22.8 mile mark on Crystal Drive.The runners were headed south on the opposite side of the road toward the 21 mile banner. Then they turned a corner and disappeared from view before heading north on Crystal Drive on my side of the road.

It was getting quite warm. In marathon running, 65 degrees is warm. It was already in the 70s. A misting machine was turned on at the corner. Many runners were cramping up. It did not look like much fun, to be honest.

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Misting Machine
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Cramping – Are We Having Fun Yet?

I had planned to cheer on my friend Heather and twitter peep Teresa. Teresa posted a picture of her clothing and a selfie at the 9 mile mark. Red shirt. White baseball cap with blonde hair. Camelback. Purple running shoes. So I knew what to look for. Strangely enough I saw three people running at a similar pace to her planned pace wearing the same thing. What are the odds? So I may have seen or or not. If not, there are three women wondering who the heck was that guy yelling “Teresa!”?

Heather is a petite Chinese woman. Unlike Teresa who I only know from her pictures on line, I’be known Heather for 20 or 30 years. I spotted her on the far side of Crystal Drive headed south. I yelled and she turned and waved. Then about 10 minutes later she came running down the edge of the road in full view. I took her picture. With pain all around her, she was smiling. She apologized for being sweaty and gave me a hug then continued on.

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Heather in Purple in the Bike Lane

After that, I rode home. In a t-shirt and shorts. On the 30th of October. I am writing this on the deck. It is 80 degrees. Good thing the race ended when it did.

 

 

Getting MY Ass to the Doctor

Well, today’s the day for my colonoscopy. It’s a routine test. I have no symptoms to indicate anything is wrong, but you never know. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood.

Just to let you in on the fun, here is what’s went down this week.

Monday to Wednesday: My diet was restricted in preparation for the big event. I could not eat peas, corn, nuts, popcorn and other small foods that might not be fully digested by my stomach and small intestine. So I changed my diet for a few days. Pizza for lunch! (My advice is to add jalapeno peppers to the do not eat list. You’ll thank me for this.)

Wednesday: No solid food today. Just clear liquids. Breakfast was a can of Sprite. Through the rest of the day I drank four cups of coffee, a jumbo Gatorade, an Arnold Palmer (may he rest in peace), a Mountain Dew, and lots of water. I had chicken broth for dinner. (And, yes, I still biked to work.)

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The stuff

Wednesday evening: I began drinking what my mom called “the stuff.” This is a liquid laxative that flushes your system out. Years ago this meant drinking two gallons of really nasty tasting fluid. Now the stuff is a six ounce bottle of clear laxative topped off with 10 ounces of water. This is followed by two pints of water. I cheated. I had two cans of broth and some water left over from my bike bottle.

 

Based on my experience, there is no telling when the laxative will start flushing you out. So you would be wise to do this at home. This time it was about an hour after I drank the stuff. Basically, your stomach starts feeling like Vesuvius, then you hightail it to the WC where you sudden are doing a rather good imitation of the launch rockets on a Saturn 5.

This continues at random intervals for the next two and a half hours.  With each “launch” the flow is clearer. This is good.

It did not hurt. At all.

Thursday morning: At 8 am I take my second dose of the stuff. Drink two pints of water. We have liftoff!!! After three trips to the Kennedy Space WC, I have achieved clarity. Mission accomplished.

My next task was to avoid any thought of food. Chocolate chip cookies. Pizza. Tater tots. Beer. Burritos. Ice cream. I have  a three-hour wait until I go to the hospital. I take a nap a and dream of all the foods.

Thursday afternoon: Mrs. Rootchopper drives me to the hospital. I already paid by phone and gave the hospital my medical information but I still go through check in and registration because hospital redundancy makes the military look like amateurs.

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Yellow Sticky Sox

I walk to the prep room. Mrs. Rootchopper is sent to a waiting room. I put on the standard hospital gown, open in the back, of course. And some yellow sticky socks. Then I climb on a hospital bed. I am covered in warm blankets. I am given a binkie. (No, I just made that up. But it was super comfy under the blankets.) My prep nurse reviews my medical info because redundancy. Another nurse starts an IV for fluids. The fluids are cold, but that’s just the contrast with my body temperature.

 

The prep nurse sees my pulse is 44 to 46. “Do you work out?” I love when they ask this. I’m a bike commuter! The nurse anesthesiologist appears. I tell him I’m a barfer. He starts me on an anti0nausea drug. He says the anesthetic is pretty short acting but I won’t feel anything during the procedure. I am also given something to raise my heart rate. This is just in case the anesthetic causes my heart rate to drop unexpectedly. It gives him room for error.

Another tech nurse comes in. He positions me for the procedure. I move to the right edge of the bed. Then I roll onto my left side. My knees come up near my chest. My feet and shins are cushioned by warm towels. The doctor will, um, see you now.

Then the doctor shows up. All set? Let’s do it. The anesthesiologist starts the anesthetic. It’s 2:00 pm.

I wake up. Another nurse is there. She tells me it’s over. I look at the clock. 2:15. I felt absolutely nothing. I am lying on the same bed that I started on. On my back. Under warm blankets. The nurse starts asking me how I am doing. My mouth is incredibly dry. She brings me some ice water. Ahhhh! She confirms that my prep was done properly and that the doctor had no problems doing the exam.

The doctor bursts in. Stinking of gin. No, I made that up.

The doctor comes by. He has pictures from the procedure. He found two polyps. In different parts of my colon. He says they both look benign but they are being sent to pathology for confirmation. I’ll know more in a week. The doctor is unconcerned. I think he will keep me on the three-year screening cycle because of the polyps and my family history.

Mrs. Rootchopper comes in. The nurse gives her my post-op instructions and she signs the release form because I am still legally not allowed to do so since I am still groggy from the anesthesia.

I feel fine. Drink some more ice water. I stand to get dressed and stagger back against the bed. I start putting on my underpants backwards. Then I start doing the same with my sweatshirt. Mrs. Rootchopper gets a laugh out of it. Okay, I’m gonna chill for the rest of the day.

A volunteer comes and gives me a wheel chair ride to the car that Mrs. Rootchopper has pulled up to the hospital door. In five minutes I am home eating a light meal.

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Post Op Comfort Food

That’s it. Easy peasy. I should be fine to ride to work in the morning. Rachel “Don’t Call Me Bob” Cannon has offered to buy me a cookie at Friday Coffee Club. I just might take her up on that.

I was going to include pictures from the procedure but that might gross you out. They are of the inside of the colon. The irregularities are obvious which is why this screening is so useful to doctors. I think the pictures are really cool, but I know some people find this sort of thing off-putting. (I used to like looking at my father’s medical journals. My colonoscopy pictures are pretty boring by comparison.)

I encourage you to talk to your doctor, especially if you have an immediate family history (mother, father, syblings) of colon cancer. Or if you have any abnormal symptoms that might involve your colon.

 

 

 

Biking a Marathon: The Two-Wheeled Spectator

Last week my friend Katie Bolton asked me to talk to her about strategies for watching the up coming Marine Corps Marathon. Her article hit the interwebs over the weekend:

I met Katie through Friday Coffee Club. She is an unassuming soul who is infinitely more talented, likable, and bright than she’ll ever know. She is between careers and blogs about the travails of finding the sweet spot in the work/life world, a topic that seems to consume so many of my young friends in DC.

I used to run. A lot. One year I ran 3,000 miles. My marathon best is 3:04:29, good for 24th place at the Heritage Trail Marathon in Troy, NY. No brag. Just fact.

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Then I hurt my left knee playing volleyball. Sad face.

I miss running, especially on days when it is just a little too cool for bike riding. That’s prime long distance running weather.

You might think that runners don’t appreciate the cheers from the crowd in a marathon. You’d be wrong. The energy boost that the crowd gives is potent. I’ll never forget the boost I got from the crowds in Newport RI during the final run through downtown in the Ocean State Marathon. (Too bad they weren’t around when I hit the wall three miles later!)

Of course, a great way to cheer your friendly marathoner on is to ride a bike to various spots along the course. In DC you don’t even need a bike. You can use the bike sharing system. Any bike will do.

I know a few people runing Marine Corps so I’ll ride up to DC to cheer them on. if there is a marathon in your neck of the woods, check it out. Make some noise. The runners will definitely appreciate it.

Blowin’ in the Wind

Bob Dylan is getting a Nobel. He wrote the theme song to the 2016 Great Pumpkin Ride. It’s called Blowin’ in the Wind.

We had a nice Indian summer this week. Temperatures were in the 80s during the day. Then a front came through and autumn was back. In force.

The ride continued nonetheless. Apparently the 20 -30 mile per hour winds and the 40 mile per hour gusts turned some people off. I signed up for this ride when Ultrarunnergirl asked me about it. She planned to ride with another friend. She ended up spending the day at a vineyard not far away. Can’t say I blame her.

I met up with some other friends, Paul, Amy, and Jody, at the start. We were going to ride the 48 mile route. Slowly. We left a little after the official 9:30 start.

Adding to the fun was the fact that I have a sore throat and a pretty nasty cold. I was shivering when we started and my energy levels were very low. I ate an energy bar left over from my June bike tour.

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The wind seemed to be mostly at our backs for the first 15 miles, with the occasional crosswind to nearly blow us off the road. We mostly had protection from trees. One cool aspect of this was the fact that leaves were falling like rain. Every so often they’d dance in the air pocket in front of my body. As if to tip their caps to the end of warm weather.

The scenery could not have been better. It took my mind off the random blast. Jody led the way for the start. Paul and Amy rode together. I played shutterbug.

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This was Amy’s first long ride. The conditions not being ideal, we decided to stop and give her a chance to chop off 10 miles of the route. Amy didn’t take the bait. We rode on to the first rest stop. It was at a church. Warm apple cider. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread. Even Paul’s favorite: pumpkin whoopie pies.

I said hello to Dave and Jean who were riding the 60+ mile route. They had been contending with lots of headwinds.

Leaving the rest stop, we encountered open farm land. No trees to protect us. And we were getting blasted. Not surprisingly this broke our group of four up. I was just plugging along keeping my heart rate where it likes to be kept. I ended up being way out in front. Probably has something to do with riding 6,500 miles already this year.

I stopped at the top of a hill. Riders struggled with the headwind as they climbed. Then came Jody. And we waited. After many minutes, Paul and Amy arrived. Dang. We may be old, but we are slow.

I told Amy the next rest stop at Old Bust Head brewery was four miles away. Jody corrected me and said it was six. “Amy, I rounded up.”

And away we rode. More pretty country stuff. Leaves. Farms. Dessicated corn stalks. A pony being trained.

The brewery was a welcome retreat. I had two pints. The bubbles felt good on my throat.

We set out for the last ten or so miles back to the start. I became separated from the three. I fell in with an old guy. (As Jody later pointed out, “We’re all old!”) He told me he had only recently started biking again. He said he was old and fat. He didn’t look it.We played leap frog.He actually rode faster than me on the flats but the hills were really challenging for him. He walked a few, huffing and puffing, but never gave up.

For most of the time I was riding I was in my usual meditative trance. When I rode past a turn early in the ride, Jody had to yell at me to get me back on course. Be one with the cue sheet.

I zoned out for the last few uphill miles. I have no idea how fast I was going. The scenery, the hills, the wind. As Robbie Robertson once said, “The wind just sort of took me there.”

At the end of the ride, I watched as the after party closed up shop. I waited and watched old guy finish. Then Jody. Then some others. Where were Paul and Amy. Worry began to set in. They finally arrived having been escorted by the police. Amy was la lanterne rouge. But she finished.

I rode to my car. I was the last car in the vast horse show grounds.

I drove off. Into the wind.

Here are some pix on my Flickr page.

Random Thoughts

It’s been a while since I did a list of the things that the monkeys in my brain are saying. So here goes:

  • The official end of summer happens when your baseball team plays its last game. Spring begins on opening day.
  • Somebody, somewhere makes diapers for dogs. Unless my co-worker is putting me on. Which is possible. Then again, they make poop catchers for horses.
  • Greyhounds are modern day velociraptors. Seriously. Would I lie about such a thing?
  • I grew up with a golden retriever. He’d run away from home and come to my grade school. Then he’d bark at the window of my classroom. So, in front of my whole class, I’d have to go and try to catch him by the collar and take him home. When I think back on it, it’s incredible that he could find me. Dog noses are amazing.
  • A man crashed the bathroom line at the ballgame the other night. I told him that the line starts back yonder. He insisted that he was in front of me the entire time. With a straight face. I should have peed on him.
  • When I work from home, I either get tons done or nothing. The day after the final payoff game in DC was not my best day. It may have something to do with getting home at 2:30.
  • It blows my mind how crappy the DC area subway has become. It was the envy of the nation for most of the 1980s and 1990s. People would literally ooh and aah when the went into the stations. Now they just cringe.
  • I really like Steven Wright’s line: “Everything is walking distance if you have enough time.”
  • I grew up in the frozen north. My father used to get rid of his cars when the warranty expired. Usually every 3 years. He never had rust on his cars either.
  • My record for mileage on a car is 163,000, a 1991 Honda Accord station wagon. I might still own it except the seats made my back ache. One of the cars we own now is a 2004 Honda Accord sedan. It has over 150,000 miles on it. It’s kind of beat up (mostly from my daughter’s experiential driver training) but the seats are comfy and it runs like new. I think it’s going for the record. I took it to the mechanic earlier this week.
  • The mechanic just called. the car is ready. He gave me 2,587.82 reasons to ride my bike.
  • I have never understood people who run or bike with headphones on. I need my hearing to stay safe. Equally as important, I ride my bike to calm my mind, not to add to the day’s info overload.
  • It is truly weird to be known to some people only by my Internet name, Rootchopper. By day, a mild manner government economist (who drops f-bombs at the office computer system on an hourly basis), by night, a bike rider who magically maintains the serenity of the universe by riding 12 miles per hour.
  • Sorry, that last bullet point was a tad woo woo.
  • For most of my adult life I have been doing exercises to strengthen core, abdominal muscles. Whoever said this was a good idea was an ignorant fool. I can do crunches until the cows come home and I  still have back spasm episodes once or twice a year. Lately I have discovered that my back spasms have more to do with weak oblique muscles (on the side of my torso) and tight hamstrings. So when my back starts acting up I just do some side dips or side planks and some hamstring stretches. Your mileage may vary.
  • Over the last 13 months I traveled to seven countries. I have no idea what to do for an encore.
  • I am also maxing out event rides in the DC area this fall. Next year I plan on doing as many rail trail rides as possible or a fall tour, either to Bar Harbor or to Key West. Cold rain or hurricanes. Pick your poison.
  • I unfriended someone yesterday on Facebook. She hadn’t followed me for over a year. Not a comment. Not a “like”. We haven’t done anything together in ages. I will be interested to find out how long it takes before she even realizes that  Elvis has left the FB building.
  • Unfriending sounds mean. I think it’s a brilliantly passive aggressive marketing strategy.  What kind of person would do such a thing to a friend? Um, me.
  • The only place I know where friendship is a one-way street is Providence, Rhode Island.