Perfect

The heat and humidity left town last night. The gross DC summer has ended. (I hope.) It was time to open the windows and breathe.

After reading the paper, I climbed aboard The Mule and headed northwest. I took the inland route to Georgetown. This uses city streets and lightly used trails and bike lanes to avoid the Mount Vernon Trail. On perfect weather days, the MVT is jammed with people. For some reason the authorities did not inform them that the trail is MINE!!!!!

To be honest, the inland route is a bit hilly in spots but it has its charms. I picked up another free golf ball near Belle Haven Country Club for a start. Then there’s the scenic majesty of the loading docks of the buildings in Crystal City. And let’s not forget the glorious vistas of the massive Pentagon North Parking lot. You can tell we are not at war because the lot was empty on a Saturday.

Well, I made it past all of them and around the north side of Arlington Cemetery. White crosses in row after row after row. Next it’s up the hill past the Netherlands Carillon (which is surrounded by scaffolding these days) and onto Lynn Street through beautiful downtown Rosslyn. (Sarcasm alert.)

I rode across the Potomac on the Key Bridge onto busy M Street. It was the busiest I’ve seen this road since the pandemic started. A right turn at Wisconsin Avenue brought me to the Water Street protected cycletrack. Sadly, the cycletrack ends after a couple of blocks and I had to waltz with the SUVs looking for street parking. The street ends at the Capital Crescent Trail trailhead and next to a boathouse so the SUVs all get to do a 3-point turn in the midst of heavy bicycle and pedestrian traffic.

The Mule and I made our way onto the CCT. The adjacent, unpaved, C&O Canal towpath was a mud pit so I decided to take the CCT all the way to Bethesda.The CCT wasn’t all that crowded except for a group of skateboarders that stretched about a mile in length.

In Bethesda I weaved through the diners and pedestrians who had taken over the city streets and followed the detour signs to Jones Bridge Road. The detour gets around the re-construction of the Georgetown Branch Trail. Jones Bridge Road is a busy thoroughfare during the week as it runs along the Bethesda medical complex. On Saturdays it’s rather calm. Soon I had doubled back across the GBT right of way. I could see where the old Rock Creek Trestle was. This was one of my favorite spots in DC. You could hang out above the treetops which made for a pretty great show when autumn colors arrived.

Crossing the GBT right of way I headed downhill toward Rock Creek Park. A big white SUV passed me with its engine roaring. I yelled “Wow. I’m impressed” into its open passenger side window. A minute later I pulled up behind Mr. SUV at a stop light.

About a half mile later I was on the closed section of Beach Drive, the main road through the park back to Georgetown. It’s insane that such a beautiful park is right smack dab in the middle of a huge city. Beach Drive winds its way down the Rock Creek canyon, crossing and re-crossing the creek. The road has recently been repaved so the riding is just about as sweet as can be.

And the scenery is like this. For mile after mile.

Beach Drive is open to cars and gets a bit hairy nearer to Georgetown. At one point a Maryland driver zoomed passed me honking his horn. I returned digital fire. Then in the interest of self preservation I switched to the side trail. The trail was a mess. Recent rains have caused the creek to overrun its banks. Standing water and mud covered the pavement. I survived.

After passing the Watergate and the Kennedy Center, I entered the beach volleyball slalom. The courts were closed but it was just my luck that the Bikeshare tourists from Oshkosh were in town. They rolled slowly in a sort of mechanical blob for 100 yards or so before stopping all over the trail. One on this side, one on that side, one in the middle, a few off the trail on the left and a few on the right. They then began asking each other where they wanted to go (Hint: the big marble building in front of them was the Lincoln Memorial). I rang my bell and yelled “Coming through!” They said “Oh.” They then proceeded to waddle their bikes all over like the players on an electronic football game or a gaggle of startled geese.

I survived this too. The weather was so good I didn’t cuss or anything. Honest.

Soon I was crossing the Potomac on the Memorial Bridge back into Arlington to reverse course around fab Pentagon North Megaparkland! They should charge for the views.

After clearing Old Town Alexandria I decided to try the MVT for the last few miles home. The first mile was rather frustrating as expected (Okay, let’s assemble the entire family right here on this paved trail while ignoring 30 acres of pristine lawn), but the traffic thinned out and the last two miles were copacetic.

Just before home I stopped and picked up some drugs. The deep discount for my asthma medicine was discontinued. Alas, I am now too old for Big Pharma’s mercy. My glaucoma drops thankfully are still reasonably priced.

I also got a flu shot. It was free. Thanks, Obamacare.

I arrived home after 51 blissful miles. I have now ridden exactly 7,000 miles this year.

It’s time for some baseball and junk food. Perfect.

920 Muggy Miles

It is official: my pandemic boredommeter has broken. I continue to ride nearly every day but my daily average is falling. Doing 80 to 100 miles in oppressive heat and humidity is likely to lead to an evening at the neighborhood trauma center.

My neighborhood trauma center is used to seeing bicyclists. One time many years ago I crash on the Mount Vernon Trail. I had a dislocated left knee cap and my left arm was cut to the bone. There was blood. The first question the triage nurse asked me was “Did you hit yoru head?” I said “No” and had to wait 20 minutes. Later, as I was wheeled to x-ray, a patient in cycling clothing on a gurney was being wheeled out. We said hello and he asked me “How’s your bike?”

He hit his head when he fell.

Anyway, my longest ride this month was 52.5 miles. I nearly got killed doing it thanks to a rumble strip and a pile of storm debris. On the plus side I averaged over 29 1/2 miles per day, even while taking three days off.

For the month I rode 920 miles putting me at 6,885 miles so far this year. I’m still on pace to exceed 10,000 miles for the year, but only barely so. I need to have a big September and October.

My stenosis came back. I reached 17,000 miles on my Cross Check. And I signed up for my 12th 50-States Ride in late September.

On to autumn!

Readin’ the ‘Rona

Well, I’m not exactly burning up the roads of America this year. Other than watching Washington Nationals baseball games, I am spending a lot of time reading. I read National Geographic and Adventure Cycling magazines. Otherwise I’ve been working my way through a pile of books.

This Is Going to Hurt by Adam Kay – the diary of a doctor in the National Health Service in the UK. This is very funny, and sometimes tragic.
Labyrinth of Ice by Buddy Levy – the incredible tale of a multi-year arctic rescue mission in the days before modern communications. If you liked books about The Endurance expedition to Antarctica, this one’s for you.
The Body, A Guide for Occupants by Bill Bryson – This book lacks Bryson’s usual wit (his A Walk in the Woods is the funniest book I’ve ever read), but it will tell you a million bizarre factoids about your bag of bones.
Lie to Me by J. T Ellison – an entertaining novel in the style of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl.
Sharp Objects by Flynn – ditto.
Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson – a Bryson travelogue showing off his wit as a fish out of water in Great Britain. As you’re about to discover I tend to work my way through books by author
Dark Places by Flynn – Another dark Gone Girl-ish novel
And I Do Not Forgive You by Amber Sparks. The author is the wife of a former co-worker. Well written off-beat short stories that was not well read (as Nick Hornby likes to say).
The Road to Little Dribbling by Bill Bryson. Another witty travelogue.
Made in America by Bryson. A book about the history of the English language. I had high expectations for this one but it wasn’t my cup of joe.
Giving Good Weight, La Place de la Concorde Suisse, Irons in the Firel Looking for a Ship, The Ransom of Russian Art, The Control of Nature all by John McPhee. I loved these on first read many years ago but reading them in sequence got a bit tedious. Still he’s a skilled researcher and writer and they hold up well to the passage of time.

Buzz Saw by Jesse Dougherty. The tale of the improbable march to a World Series title by the 2019 Washington Nationals. I always regard the long baseball season as like an epic novel. This one proves my point.
Table of Contents by McPhee. By this point I was pretty burnt out on McPhee. (I have only Coming into the Country left to read in my McPhee collection.
One Day: The Extraordinary Story of One Day in America by Gene Weingarten. Dang is this book a revelation. Using a day chosen entirely at random, Weingarten reports on events that happend on that date in the recent years. I like Weingarten’s weekly humor column in the Washington Post but he’s cheating us by not writing more books like this.
The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness. A young adult novel in the style of Twilight. Weird times five.
Circe by Madeline Miller. She’s a nymph, she’s a which, she’s a badass. I didn’t think I like this but it’s pretty great. The writing style is unusual but it works.
A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. How about a Russian novel in the style of Graham Greene. Not that I know anything about Greene’s writing.
The Hours by Michael Cunningham. Unless you’re a big fan of Virginia Wolff and Mrs. Dalloway, don’t bother. By page three I was sick of metaphors and atmospherics.
Normal People by Sally Rooney. A rich nerd has an affair with a smart jock in high school in Sligo, Ireland. The story follows them through college in Dublin. Rooney is amazing at describing the nuances of relationships.

Still to come: this eclectic pile. Note that my wife and daughter picked up on my tastes. I read Ron Chernow’s biography of Ulysses S. Grant last year and was amazed. And since I saw Hamilton on stage last year it was a no-brainer to gift me the book where it happened. I loved Matt Damon in the movie about a botany nerd stranded on Mars. The Outsiders is a classic that I’ve never read. And two books by authors I first read earlier this year.

I am saving Hamilton for after the baseball season. I’m not throwin’ away my shot.

It’s been a long time since I’ve read so many books that float my boat.

The Long Slog

If you thought riding across North Dakota and Montana was a slog, try riding during a pandemic. From time to time, I escape the roads near home and go somewhere else. This month I visited Kent County and Talbott County on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Long, level riding is good for the soul.

Closer to home, in a manner of speaking, I rode the 100-mile White’s Ferry Loop. Level ground to be sure, but quite an undertaking. It also confirmed that Big Nellie, my trusty recumbent, aggravates my stenosis condition. (The pain went away after a couple of days.) My fourth long ride of the season was the 52-mile ride to Bethesda with a return through Rock Creek Park.

But mostly my riding has been confined to 30 to 40 milers near home. During my last full year of work I rode to and from the office over 130 times. I am beginning to feel that same level of monotony. It sure would be nice to point The Mule in a direction and ride far but that’s not going to happen this year.

For the month of July I rode 1,033 1/2 miles, taking two days off to refresh my legs. It’s the second month in a row over 1000 miles. I am now 115 miles ahead of the pace I need to hit 10,000 miles for the third year in a row, resting comfortably at 5,935 miles for the first seven months of the year.

Bike to the Beach update

My friends Mike and Emilia don’t know each other but they have each signed up to ride 100 miles in the rain today in support of Autism charities. You can help by throwing some cash their way. Just follow the links. Thanks.

White’s Ferry Loop

One of the long rides I try to do every year is the White’s Ferry Loop. This ride links up several trails in the DC are for a 90-mile circuit. Including the 9 1/2 miles to the loop from my house brings the total mileage to 99. Typically, I add a mile somewhere along the way for the full century.

I chose to ride clockwise because the forecast called for heat and humidity. This would put me on the shaded C&O Canal towpath for the hottest part of the day.

I boogied along for 23 miles taking streets and two trails (see below) before stopping at the Vienna train station building to refill a water bottle. Then I was back on the W&OD Trail all the way to Leesburg, about 47 miles from home. Whenever I could I topped off my water botlles. To be on the safe side, I carried five bottles, two on the bike and three in a pannier. I also brought snacks. Peanut butter on bread, pretzel sticks, and a couple of old chewy granola bars.

I rode on King Street through Leesburg, which had many tempting places to eat. In fact, if you stopped at every microbrewery along the way you’d pass out before the ferry.

North of Leesburg is the sketchy connection to US 15, a busy north south highway. I lucked out as there were no cars coming. The highway has a big shoulder along this part (because bicyclists were hit and killed several times in years gone by).

After a half mile , I turned onto Whites Ferry Road for another 1/2 mile of quiet country road to the ferry. If cars are coming toward you, you can take your time, because the ferry is crossing back to Maryland. I arrived at the ferry and waited in the shade for the trip back. As ferry trips go, this one is pretty calm. It only takes five minutes.

The store on the Virginia side is up an embankment. The exterior of the building has marks with dates next to them showing the high water marks for major flood events. Suffice it to say, Hurricane Agnes did a number on this river valley back in the early 70s.

After some ice cream, Gatorade, and a port-a-potty break I headed south on the C&O Canal towpath. The double track of the past is gone, replaced with an unpaved smooth surface. For five miles, that is, until it’s back to the bumps. Riding a recumbent means you feel every bump because you cannot easily lift your butt off the seat.

Near Seneca Creek the towpath is muddy. I was slipping and sliding but I didn’t fall.

From time to time, I saw deer, squirrels, herons, and large ominous looking birds. Mostly I was just trucking along and enjoying the shade. I particular like the sections where you can see the river with all the large rocks randomly poking above the water line and the places where the canal is filled with water and bordered by ominous rock walls.

After 32 miles I switched back to pavement on the Capitol Crescent Trail. This brought welcome relief to my back. The bumpy towpath was messing with my stenosis and I was constantly dealing with achy feet and an achy butt.

The CCT leads to the nifty Water Street cycletrack which connects to a side path that runs past the Watergate and the Kennedy Center along the Potomac River. After passing the Lincoln Memorial I switched over to Ohio Drive, which is the epicenter of the Cherry Blossom Festival in the spring.

At the Jefferson Memorial, I crossed over the river on the 14th Street Bridge which connects to the Mount Vernon Trail and the 12-mile ride home.

Imagine water well above the treetops. It happens every so often

The White’s Ferry Store serves food and sells snacks.

Here’s a cue sheet. Most people just do the loop starting and ending at Step 3.

Three Miles of suburban streets to the Mount Vernon Trail
Mount Vernon Trail north 6 1/2 miles through Old Town Alexandria to Four Mile Run Trail.
Four Mile Run Trail west 3 miles to the W&OD Trail
W&OD Trail 35 miles to South King Street in Leesburg
Right on South King to US 15 north of town, about 3 miles
US 15 to a right on Whites Ferry Road, 1/2 mile
White’s Ferry Road 1/2 mile to the ferry
Ferry across Potomac ($2)
Go 100 yards up the hill on the Virginia side
Take a right on the C&O Canal towpath and ride 32 miles to Thompson’s Boat House
Switch to paved Capital Crescent Trail and Water Street in Georgetown for 3 miles
Right onto Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway path to Ohio Drive (1 mile)
Ohio Drive to 14th Street Bridge (1/2 mile)
Cross bridge to Mount Vernon Trail (1/2 mile)
Take a right on the trail. Go 9 miles.
Re-trace suburban streets home. 3 miles.

Finally, if you do this ride, bring water and snacks. There are pumps along the towpath but these may be turned off. Also, the National Park Service treats the water with iodine. The store at White’s Ferry has limited hours so I assume it’s closed. On this day it was open.

This Pandemic Bites

The other day I was on the Facebook reading about the dental woes of my friend Sam. Sam has recently learned that she needs dental implants. Despite the fact that she has two kinds of dental insurance the implants will cost her $5,000 out of pocket. A real kick in the teeth, don’t you agree?

I once had four fillings start to break down. I needed crowns for all four teeth. I discovered this in November. In December during open season for insurance for federal employees, I signed up for dental insurance. In January, with the dental insurance in effect, I had the work done. The following November I canceled the insurance. I think I save something like $2,000.

As I was typing this insurance anecdote in a reply to Sam on the Facebook, one third of a veneer crown on one of my front teeth sheared off. I am not making this up.

The vaneer was about 30 years old so I am not complaining. In fact about ten years ago, the vaneer on my other front tooth fell off entirely as I was trying to pull the plug off the top of a water bottle on my ride home from work.

So I went to the dentist today. I was more than a little anxious about this because I’d have two people in my face for over 30 minutes during the procedure.

I pulled into the parking lot and it was empty. So far so good. I put my Washington Nationals mask (hand crafted by Mrs. Rootchopper) on and went in. The waiting area was empty. The receptionist used one of those Star Trek thermometers to check my forehead temperature. 98 degrees. Then she gave me a coronavirus quiz. It was a Yes or No test. My answers were: No. No. No. No. No.

Jackpot. The dentist will see you now.

I was shown back to an examination room by a technician wearing a mask and a hair covering. Along the way I passed several other examination rooms, all of which were empty.

The technician gave me a mouthwash to rinse with for 30 seconds. Then she took an x-ray and made a mold of my front teeth for use in making my temporary crown. After that she put a Q-tip with vile tasting numbing stuff onto my front gum. The dentist came in wearing two masks and gave me some novocaine. Ow. Ow, again. He then examined the mold and found it not to his liking so he made another.

Then the carpentry began. The rest of the old vaneer had to be removed. Then the tooth itself had to be shaved down to a fang to accept the crown. This took a good 20 minutes and involved lots of suction and fluids and noise. For this part the technician and the dentists wore face shields. I felt like I was in a science fiction movie.

The face shields and drilling made it hard to hear what they were saying. The dentist kept telling me to lower my jaw, even pushing my head down from time to time. I thought this was odd but in retrospect he was doing his best to keep me from spraying saliva and rinsing water all over the place.

Once the tooth was fanged he made another mold for the final crown. Then he put on a temporary crown and shaped it. He’s pretty good at this carpentry stuff, because ten hours later it feels like a real tooth.

The dentists picked some color samples out and we played matchy matchy with my other front tooth. My new crown won’t match exactly partly but it is made of zyrconium, a stronger material.

If I get covid from this dental visit it won’t be because the dentist didn’t do everything he could to be safe. Taking my temperature. The screening quiz. One patient at a time. Masks (in his case two). Face shields. Hair coverings. And that odd bit about keeping my jaw down.

I go back in two weeks.

Heat Wave

At this time in each of the last three years, I was riding somewhere far away. In 2017, I was crossing the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. In 2018. I was in the Idaho panhandle. In 2019, I had finally left the high mountains and landed in San Francisco. This year I am in hell.

We are in the midst of a heat wave here in the mid-Atlantic. Temperatures have been in the 90s for days on end. Humidity is stifling too. Today, at the end of my bike ride the temperature was 97, but the effect of the high relative humidity made it feel like 108.

Seriously.

I managed to crawl 21 miles on Big Nellie before throwing in the figurative towel. Too bad it wasn’t a literal one; I was dripping wet, as if I had fallen into a pool.

Yesterday, despite the brutal heat, I rode to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens. In July, water lilies, lotuses, and a few other types of flowering plants bloom. The Gardens has a series of ponds separated by walking paths. The lotuses were showing off. The water lilies were being shy. Riding there was a 23 mile jaunt. I brought a trekking pole to help my back handle the walk around the ponds. What I really needed was a parasol. I managed about 30 minutes blossomy zen before heading home.

Image may contain: plant, flower, sky, tree, outdoor and nature

On the way home I cut through Capitol Hill. The streets on the eastern part of the hill were littered with piles of spent fireworks and snacks., the detritus of a night of prodigious DIY celebrating. Whoever lives in this area spent thousands on fireworks.

My return route took me to Lincoln Park on Capitol Hill. The park is a square awkwardly bordered by city streets. It’s a beautiful oasis filled with green grass and majestic old trees. The Emancipation Statue in the middle of the park has been the subject of protests; it depicts Lincoln standing tall and a freed slave on his knees looking up at his liberator. Right now it is surrounded by a series of jersey barriers which are surrounded in turn by a chain link fence, to deter protesters from trying to take the statue down. You may have seen all the ruckus about the statue on the news recently. You probably didn’t see what I saw as I rolled past: folks from the neighborhood relaxing on the lawn, hanging out in the shade. DC is an interesting place.

The End and the Beginning

I’ve lived in the DC area for more than half my life. I’ve been to most of the touristy spots multiple times. Like many people, when our kids were little we took them to the Williamsburg area where there is much to see and do. On the historical side, we visited Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown, but, for some reason we never got around to Yorktown, where the British army surrendered to end the Revolutionary War on October 19, 1781.

On Tuesday, I remedied that omission on two wheels. Starting at the Williamsburg visitor center I rode the Colonial Parkway 13 miles to Yorktown. The roadway surface, composed of aggregate (small stones in concrete), is a bit rough. It is oddly three lanes wide with no lane markings. Distance is measured not with mileposts but with kilometer posts. I can’t recall seeing this anywhere else in the U. S. It was hot and humid but the ample shade kept me comfortable until the parkway reached the banks of the York River.

The river is wide, perhaps a half-mile or more. The parkway, now unshaded, turns to the southeast following the river and passing through marshy areas and by narrow beaches. After a gentle upslope, the parkway ends at the entrance to the Yorktown Battlefield. The visitors’ center was closed, of course. A few people wandered around zombie-like listening to a virtual tour on their phones. To tour the battlefield takes three hours by car. Unless you’re a serious war wonk, you can cut to the chase and head to the Victory Monument.

The 98-foot tall monument was erected in the 1880s. It has a massive base which supports a column topped by a figure of Liberty. (Liberty has twice been damaged by lightning, Make of that what you will.)

There are extensive inscriptions on each side of the base. These writings make clear that the Yorktown battle and siege, to a very great extent, was a French operation. It was the French navy that fought of British ships off the Virginia coast, thereby preventing an evacuation of the British army by river and sea. Of the 17,000 land forces on the American side, 5,000 were French soldiers. Without the French we Americans would spending pounds, drinking warm beer, and singing “God Save the Queen”.

And so the war ended and the new country, no longer under mortal threat from Britain, could begin in earnest.

In 1976, the year of the U. S. bicentennial, the monument became the start and finish of a new tradition of sorts. Bikecentennial was an event that sent small groups of bike tourists across small town America between the Oregon coast and the Yorktown Monument. The route they followed was named the TransAmerica Trail. It traverses over 4,000 miles through Virginia, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Montana and Oregon.

Fittingly, for some TransAm riders, Yorktown is the beginning. For others, it is the end. For all it is a profound experience. In 1981 I met someone who was in one of the 1976 Bikecentennial groups. Equipped with a ten-speed bike and a whole lot of heart, Anne Meng rode with six other scruffy riders from west to east. I found pictures of her group on Flickr. (Search under TAWK518, the code for their group.) They show snow, fatigue, endless roads, and joy. Oddly, she never mentioned that she crashed and spent a night in hospital in Montana.

Today, the Bikecentennial organization is called Adventure Cycling. They have mapped over 50,000 miles of bike routes in the United States. My 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019 bike tours were nearly all on Adventure Cycling Routes including parts of the New York to Chicago, Great Lakes, Lewis and Clark, TransAm, Northern Tier, Pacific Coast, Western Express, and Atlantic Coast routes. By my count, I’ve done about 9,800 miles of their network.

After returning to Williamsburg, I headed to Jamestown Island, adjacent to the Jamestown settlement, where the ships landed. A tunnel near Jamestown village was closed to bikes, necessitating a detour into the village. It was quaint and uncrowded but for re-enactors of early colonial life and a few tourists. Back on route I rode past the Jamestown Settlement site (which I visited with my family years ago) and onto Jamestown Island. The one-lane, level road through the woods was closed to cars. Yay, pandemic.

The rest of my ride took me in a twelve-mile arc around the western side of the Williamsburg area. This was unremarkable exurban and suburban riding in blistering heat. I stopped at a gas station convenience store for drinks and snacks. Half the people in the store were not wearing masks which made me very uncomfortable and angry. I suppose causing someone to suffocate in their own blood is worth the inconvenience of wear a piece of cloth over your face.

In 30 minutes I had reached the end of my 60-mile adventure.

Minding the W&OD

“Everything is walking distance if you have the time.” Steven Wright

Q: “What’s the secret to a long marriage?”

A: “Don’t get divorced?” Olivia Harrison

After a rather ambitious week of riding (252 miles), I decided it was time to up my game. I had intended to ride the Whites Ferry Loop on Saturday but I got underway a bit late and decided to abandon the effort about 28 miles from home. The resulting 57-mile excursion left me wanting something more better.

And so I launched Big Nellie intending to ride the big beast to Purcellville. About 1/4 mile from home, its rear shifter cable snapped in two, so I returned home for The Mule. While changing out of my recumbent clothes (regular street clothes) into biking gear I had an asthma attack.

My asthma diagnosis is mild persistent asthma. It manifests itself not in wheezing episodes but in labored breathing and a fog of depression. One puff of a rescue inhaler (albuterol sulfate) and my lungs settled down. I hopped on The Mule ready to rumble.

The out-and-back route involves three miles on suburban streets to the Mount Vernon Trail. The trail takes me north along the Potomac River about six miles to the Four Mile Run Trail at National Airport. After another three miles the FMRT ends in Shirlington where I pick up the Washington and Old Dominion rail trail which goes 44 1/2 miles all the way to Purcellville at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I’ve probably done this ride ten times. It’s a good test of riding endurance and the ride (except for one hill on the way back about 2 1/2 miles from home) seems virtually flat. I said “seems” because ride gains elevation then gives it up, resulting in about 1,400 of gross elevation gain.

The scale of the chart is deceptive; each gain in elevation is gradual, but for a handful of abrupt rollers from time to time. The biggish hill from mile 32 to mile 39 is mostly uninterrupted. The one from mile 1 to mile 9 has several cross streets and traffic lights making it hard to take advantage of the favorable grade on the return.

Along the way the trail passes through Arlington, Falls Church, Dunn Loring, Vienna, Reston, Herndon, Sterling, Ashburn, Leesburg, Clarks Gap (the high point), Paeonian Springs, and Hamilton Station before ending in Purcellville.

It always seems like a long slog on the way out. Mostly I attribute this to the gradual elevation gain. There’s also a psychological element that I’ve never been able to get my head around. Going places somehow seems much longer than returning, regardless of your mode of transport.

The density of trail users fluctuated as I passed through more heavily populated areas. If you’re into beer, you can stop at several mircobrewies along the way. (I didn’t.) Many years ago the area near Dulles Airport was farmland but nowadays it’s suburban sprawl. From Ashburn to Leesburg is less developed. You can check out a quarry if rocks are your thing. From Leesburg to Purcellville is a tunnel of green bliss, easily my favorite part of the trail.

My odometer is rather sketchy but it read 56.36 miles when I reached Purcellville. I took a selfie with one of the Purcellville signs (the other had too many bikes under it so I had to go small.

There’s an old saying among marathoners. The race is 26.2 miles long. The halfway point is around 20 miles. That’s when the bear jumps on your back.

I expected the same from this ride. I had about five hours of daylight left so I was definitely in Steven Wright mode. The way to ride over 100 miles is, like Olivia Harrison says, is to keep on going.

And there I was bombing down the long grade from Clarks Gap at 20 miles per hour. The downhill grade and the mental aspect of having already seen the sights put my mind at ease. I’ll get there when I get there.

On the way out I ate a bagel with peanut butter on it. At Purcellville I snarfed some trail mix. I stopped in Leesburg on the return for more snacks. A gatorade and some cookies got my energy back up.

The gentle rise in the trail just west of Vienna started to mess with my head. It’s a false flat; it looks level but it’s not. When I finished with it, I stopped at the Vienna railroad station (long ago made inactive) and ate a Snickers bar.

23 miles to go. No guts, no glory.

As I plowed along, body parts started to complain. My thighs. My lower back. My left shoulder. To ease my discomfort, I stretched as I rode. I got out of the saddle for the short climbs, anything to distribute the fatigue. (Sadly, you can’t do this in marathons. You’re body goes all wonky and you just have to run through it which is rather depressing when you can’t lift your thighs.)

Three miles from home I decided to climb a short steep hill to avoid adding a bit of distance to the trip. It was the only time I used my granny gear. My knees were thankful.

20 minutes before sunset, I rolled into my yard. 113 miles, my longest ride since June 2018, and only my third century since then.

Anything is biking distance if you have the time and don’t quit.

Round and Round in the Park

Today we’ve returned to typical DC summer weather. Hot and humid.

I checked the website for Prince William Forest Park, a national park that is oddly situated right next to I-95 about 30 miles south of my house. The website said the park was open so I put the CrossCheck on the back of my car and headed south.

Upon arrival I could see a barricade across the access road into the park. Hmmm. The website said the park was open. There were no signs restricting parking on the highway so I parked my car on the shoulder. I rode around the barricade and was soon surrounded by green.

My plan was to ride the park’s scenic drive which I recalled as being a 17- mile loop. As it turned out it was more like seven miles. No worries, Instead of two or three laps I would do four or more.

You ride uphill then down to get to the scenic drive. Riding in a counterclockwise direction, I started climbing as I entered the circuit. At one point the road has a cycletrack on it. (See the picture above.)

Since the park entry was blocked off, the roads were car free but for a couple of Park Service trucks going about their business. All the trees acted as a sound barrier; I couldn’t hear I-95 which was less than a mile away. No cars. Birds singing. Smooth pavement.

Bliss.

I saw about 15 people in total. Two on recumbent trikes, two on road bikes, and the rest on foot.

The loop road goes uphill for about a mile then seems to plateau for five miles or so. Then it descends and the road curves this way and that. I hit 40 miles per hour, an especially sweet experience without big metal things to worry about.

After the big descent the inevitable climb begins in three stages. The first two stages come at the end of the loop. These were hard and had me huffing and puffing. After the second stage comes another brief descent to the end of the loop. The third uphill stage is the start of the next time around the loop.

I did four loops. By this point I was running low on water and decided to ride out of the park. As I cleared the park, I emerged from the shade. My car was sitting in an inferno. I’m sure glad I picked a shady place to ride today.