Yesterday’s 50 mile jaunt took a lot out of me. I spent the night dealing with leg cramps and barely getting any sleep. I got up at 5:30, snarfed a small bowl of Frosted Flakes, grabbed a banana and headed for DC aboard the Sequioa.  I stopped briefly at the Morningside bald eagle nest but didn’t see any birds.  I took my time getting to Old Town and rode with the minimal car traffic up Washington Street. I saw many bikes either on the road ahead of me or on the backs of cars.  After picking up the Mount Vernon Trail a cyclists passed me. “Riding Bike DC?” he asked. I said, “Yes” and he let out a yelp and sped ahead.

Near the airport a couple of roadies passed me by so I picked up the rear wheel of the second guy and off we went at 18-19 miles per hour.  They dropped me at the 14th Street Bridge but I appreciated the tow. In the city there was hardly any car traffic so making it to the start was a breeze. 

The start was chaotic.  Nobody was directing people to the registration tables so we all fended for ourselves. I was given a t-shirt ticket (for after the ride), a BikeDC sign to stick to the front of my bike, and a map of the short course even though I asked for a different one. Oh, well. I’ll just follow the crowd.

I quickly hooked up with a woman of a certain age who’s husband was out of town. I wished her a happy Mothers Day and we chatted our way for the next five miles.

The start began without an announcement and we were off. On Pennsylvania Avenue I spotted fellow blogger K. C. who rode the Police Unity Tour from Richmond to DC the last three days.  I yelled “BETTY!” which is the name of her cruiser bike and she waved.

We rode up into Rock Creek Park. It was cooler in the canyon.  What a shame the road is not closed to traffic more often.  It was a beautiful ride.

Back out of RCP we wound our way through Foggy Bottom to a rest stop. Rest stop? We’ve only gone a few miles!  A volunteer handed me a banana as I rolled by and I left the stop without stopping. Into the E Street tunnel and out onto the Roosevelt Bridge which was a bit of a surprise since I thought we’d be riding over Key Bridge as we had the last time I did this ride.

On the Virginia side of the river we rode north on the GW Parkway. This uphill stretch was quite fun as we climbed to and above the treetops.  I stopped at an overlook and enjoyed the view of the river and the DC Palisades.  Back on the bike, I noticed that the view over the guardrail was spectacular.  Too bad we blast by this in our cars.

We turned around and sped back the way we came.  I kept looking for people I knew but saw no one.  I was riding alone at this point so I was missing the vibe of chatter that I am used to from these kinds of rides. 

We passed Rosslyn and then doubled back on US 50 to take the exit near the Iwo Jima Memorial.  A left hand turn took us to the road along side Arlington Memorial Cemetery where we (and I mean at least 200 cyclists) were stopped and turned around. I was told there had been a nasty accident, two cyclists collided head on near the bottom of the hill.  So hundreds of cyclists found themselves riding into hundreds of cyclists. Brilliant!

We ended up somehow back on the Roosevelt Bridge salmoning the throngs who had started long after us. On the DC side there were no course marshals to guide us so I followed the lost souls in front of me and we meandered through Foggy Bottom to that first rest stop which turned out to be the finish. (We should have gone into the E Street tunnel instead),

I’ve done Bike DC several times and I can’t remember when it went off without a major snag,  It was a beautiful day. The event got me out of bed and on the bike.  The Parkway was nice.  As was Rock Creek Park.  I think I’m done with Bike DC though.  I prefer the anarchy of the 50 States Ride or just a long ride in the country. 

The ride home was on impulse power.  Since it is my commute I was on auto pilot. I ate an early lunch and some ice cream, laid down on the couch, pulled on a snuggie, turned on a basketball game, and fell into a deep sleep.

Off to see The Avengers with my wife and kids. All my wife wants for Mothers Day is Robert Downey, Jr.
We aim to please.

The day started with no milk, a sure sign that my son is home.  So I did a quick ride to Walgreens to get some moo juice and a Mother’s Day card. Walgreens, alas, was closed.  So on to the US 1 Safeway.  At most times of the day, riding on US 1 in Fairfax County VA is insane but at 7:20 on a Saturday morning all the SUVs are still tucked in their garages. 

I made it to the Safeway unscathed and purchased my goods.  The ride home was uneventful except for the garbage truck that tried to back over me.  He missed.

I decided to ride to my daughter’s high school lacrosse game at the Madeira School in Great Falls, but first I had to take her car to fill it up with dead dinos.  On the way, about 1/3 of a mile from my house I came upon the final staging stop for the Police Unity Tour. This is an annual event that raises awareness and memorializes police officers killed in the line of duty. Fellow blogger and DC police officer on a bike KC is riding this year. I haven’t met her and don’t know what she looks like but I stopped and walked into the throng of police tour cyclists. It was hopeless. I was about to yell, “Hey, KC!” when they announced the start of the final leg. It was no time for chit chat; these folks have been riding for 3 days and wanted to get a move on.

I drove off to get the gas, delayed by the traffic delays that the throng of cyclist caused.

Once home, I grabbed some water and a couple of PopTarts and hit the road on the Sequoia bound for Great Falls. I took the Mount Vernon Trail – which was not jammed with people despite the beautiful weather – to the 4 Mile Run Trail. The 4 Mile Run Trail connects with the Washington and Old Dominion Trail near Shirlington.  I took that all the way into Falls Church where I hung a right on the aptly named Great Falls Road.  That turns into Lewinsburg Road.   There was very little car traffic except at some construction pinch points. I was expecting a really hilly ride for some reason but I didn’t mind the terrain at all.  I hung a right on Spring Hill Road which was a little narrow in spots. I stopped for some French food at Sept Onze in McLean then headed on to Old Georgetown Pike.  A left on OGP and up a hill with some thankfully patient drivers and after a quarter mile I was at my destination.

Last week the Frogs of Maret were blown off the field by Madeira but this week was different. The Frog coach made some tactical adjustments and the Frog goalie made save after save. The score was close all the way to the end.  Both teams played well. Unfortunately dubious officiating cost the Frogs the ball twice with less than 6 minutes to play. (Alas, stuff happens. The refs did the best they could, but two refs can’t possibly cover 100 yards and 22 players.) Both events gave Madeira the ball and they scored. Madeira won by 2. The many fans on hand gave their teams a long standing ovation for playing a brilliant game.  I’ve seen dozens of girls lacrosse games in the last three years. Most of them are sleep inducing. This one was a blast to watch. You don’t often walk away from a loss with a smile on your face but today I did.

And the smile continued on the ride home. It was mostly downhill all the way to the W&OD.  Except for a Texan in a rusty diesel pick up truck and a Fairfax County police cruiser that both passed me with little room to spare, my ride back was uneventful.  Until I reached Columbia Pike. At that point it was clear that my tank was empty.  Or maybe the pollen and bugs and sun had worn me out. I slogged the last 10 miles home. 

About 3 miles from home, I spotted two photographers at the Morningside bald eagle nest. One was the guy I talked to yesterday. He had modified his camera with an odd looking box that he said extended the range of his flash. He showed me some of his pictures on his camera screen. Very impressive,  The other photographer who had a camera that looked pretty darned impressive by my humble standards was envious.  Unfortunately for me, Mom and Pop eagle were out on the river and the eaglets were calm so I didn’t see any raptor action today.

I arrived home with a hunger and a thirst and a headache. Tomorrow I get up super early for Bike DC.  Then it’s home for Mother’s Day which will involve naps, I am sure.

Well, it hasn’t been much of a week for bike commuting. I spent Wednesday and Thursday driving to Saratoga Springs NY and back to extract my son from his sophomore year of college. He seems much smarter now than before all this post secondary education. He’s a business major. So if you want a really smart, good looking, and charming person for your business, I have just the young man for you.

He also packs a mean car. 

While in the greater Albany area (three words which should never be used together, I might add) I did some driving on back roads.  There is some mighty nice biking to be had up thataways.

We arrived back at the Rootchopper Institute a little after 8 p.m. and I discovered that sitting in a car for 17 hours and sleeping on a forty year old mattress at the family homestead is no way to treat a back, let alone a middle aged one. I could barely stand up when I got out of the car.  After getting all my son’s junk into the house, I ate dinner and two Advils and climbed into my Thermarest bed. ZZZZZZZzzzzzzz…….

8 hours later I was stepping into the surprisingly cool morning air which apparently had followed us down from the north country.  I almost had to break out the holey sweater for this commute but instead used a wicking t-shirt under a cotton t-shirt under a vest and added arm warmers.  I was going to wear tights but I was stopping at the Friday Coffee Club get together at Swings Javarama in DC on the way to work and didn’t want to look like a wimp.

Sadly, even in shorts I looked like a wimp anyway, maybe because of the lame purple head band I wore.

The Friday Coffee Club is always enjoyable. Attendees are cyclists of various stripes, most of whom seem to be fellow bloggers, friends of fellow bloggers, and/or random ne’er do wells. The line up of bikes outside is pretty impressive. Lots of Brooks saddles (a personal fave) and every kind of bike bag known to civilization.  

It seems weird that whenever I park my Honda Accord in a big parking lot I can always find another that looks just like it.  And sometimes more than one. Unless you’re in a bike shop looking at brand new bikes, you’ll never find two bikes that look alike. Cyclists always tinker with their bikes. Saddles, pedals, bags, racks, and on and on. Endless customization.

Lauren is a coffee clubber who commutes from DC to Rosslyn. She told me that her preferred route was to take M Street across downtown. I tried it this morning. I flew all the way to Georgetown, catching light after light with very little traffic. Thanks, Lauren. Once in Georgetown, M merges with Pennsylvania Avenue and the fun begins. I felt a little like a ramora among the sharks but I made it through to Key Bridge without damage to life or limb.

The ride home was pretty sweet.  The cool of the morning had given way to a 75 degree evening with a friendly tailwind. It was an effortless ride home, much appreciated by my still tender back.

As I approached the Morningside bald eagle nest along the Mount Vernon Trail, I spotted a man on the side of the trail with a camera with a big white telephoto lens. I stopped and chatted with him. He said the nest has a mating couple with two eaglets. It is incredibly hard to find the nest now that the trees have leaves.   If you want to find the nest, the easiest way is too look for a photographer. They are big, and are not hiding behind leaves and branches and such.

Tomorrow’s bike ride is cancelled on account of lacrosse (my daughter’s high school team) and other family obligations, but I will be up and out of the house before 6 on Sunday so that I may ride into the city for Bike DC.  I expect to be back home by noon to celebrate Mother’s Day with Mrs. Rootchopper and our two fabulous children.

I’ve been asked for a map of the ride I did yesterday. I’ve never used Bikely before so my apologies for the crudeness of the recreation.  Unfortunately, I can’t get the cue sheet thing to work.  In any case, you can at least see how I got in and out of Fort Belvoir and where I was in Lorton. The rest is neighborhood meanderings in the last 15 miles to get the thing to total to 70.  (An alternative would have been to ride on Hampton Road near Lorton for a few miles and turn around.)

The software says it was 77 miles but I doubt it. Another 10 percent would have done me in for sure.

Anyway, here’s the Fat Toad 70 miler

My recent downtime combined with eating way too many bagels and too much pizza as well as drinking beer and ale has given my stomach an unwelcome enhanced profile. Once I got back to DC I decided to do something about it.

Last weekend I peeled off a 64 mile day.  I have to say that the last five of those miles was a bit of a slog but I got the job done.  Once my leg muscles had forgotten the trauma I made up my mind to do a 70 mile ride this weekend.  I intended to go yesterday but was foiled by father time. So today was make-up day.

After reading the paper and snarfing a carbo rich breakfast, I rolled down the street on the Sequoia.  I headed straight to Riverside Park where I picked up the Mount Vernon Trail.  The next mile was an uphill grind but when I reached Mount Vernon ten percent of my ride was behind me.  The weather was cooperating. It was overcast and in the low to mid 70s. I was dressed in my yellow Valpo hoodie and was comfortable.  If it rained I’d be a cold wet mess so I kept my fingers crossed.

The Woodlawn area just beyond Mount Vernon is a pretty nice place to ride.  The only problem is there is not enough of it.  I split the area in half on the Mount Vernon Highway and entered Fort Belvoir at Walker Gate.  The Fort is another great place to ride. Many of the roads have been re-built with bike lanes and sharrows.  I climbed the long hill on Mount Vernon Road savoring the return trip when I would fly down it.

I worked my way across the base and popped out on the Fairfax County Parkway between US 1 and Telegraph Road. At Telegraph I took a left and headed for Old Colchester Road.  This is a surprisingly rural road that descends to a creek before – ugh – climbing back up.  The climb is windy and steep in parts but at least its shaded.

I took a left on Gunston Road which is a two-lane, 50-mile per hour, no paved shoulder road to nowhere. It takes a bit of gumption to ride this road but, as my wife likes to remind me, I am full of it.  After a few miles on nail biting I turned into Mason Neck State Park.  This is a little known and underused gem of a park that has hiking trails and lots of opportunities to see bald eagles.

I took a rest a the visitor center on Pohick Bay and ate a Klondike bar as I watched the boats and the birds go by. No bald eagle sightings were had though.

After 15 minutes the Sequoia was lonely so I hopped aboard and headed back. I had completed a little over 1/3 of the ride and felt pretty darn good.  Back on Gunston Road I took a short diversion to the right.  At the end of the road is a fine enclave of houses, many with superb views of the river. Kids were playing in the streets like they did when I was young.  They had bikes and skateboards and Razor scooters and were making load conversation. 

My return to childhood over, I made my way back out Gunston Road all the way to Old Colchester. I hung a left and road some pretty impressive rollers through the countryside – much of it a land fill.. Garbage made pretty.

One lane takes the road under the east coast railroad tracks. The sign said, “Toot Horn First”. I felt woefully inadequate but gave my bell a hearty “DING” and rode through.

Across US 1 and up the hill and I was soon in land-o-garbage. There are landfills and garbage processing stations all along this hilly route.  At the top of the hill I came upon the old Lorton Prison complex, which at one time was one of the most depressing sights in the DC area. I zigged and zagged through the area, a mixture of new houses and modest little frame houses from back in the day when location, location, location meant don’t live here.

I took the curvy Lorton Road down to I 95 and pulled into a gas station convenience store for some calories. After a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich and a cup of Joe I was ready for the last 23 miles of my adventure in suburbia.

The roads in Lorton have change quite a bit over the last 10 years.  Once the prison was closed, there was a land swap between Mason Neck – which does not have a mainline sewer conduit – and Lorton – which does.  Mason Neck now has empty fields of grass and Lorton has housing developments.  No  matter how you cut it, Lorton is a polished turd of suburbia.  There are remnants of its downtrodden prison days everywhere, including a sign noting the location (“just north of here”) of a Nike missile site. Apparently this missile site kept them Ruskies from invading our prison. Money well spent.

I worked my way back to US 1 at Gunston Road. I retraced my path all the way to the Fairfax County Parkway. A remnant of the old Braddock Road that was obliterated by the Parkway remains near Fort Belvoir. I took that 1/2 mile road and watched as folks came out of a Buddhist (I think) temple. A little girl dressed in a silk dress walked with her mother on the side of the road. She had her hair in pigtails and each pigtail was adorned with an orange ball the size of a softball. She was so cute. Sadly my camera is still being rehabilitated so there is no picture.

I climbed back up into Fort Belvoir via the Tully Gate.  The road up this long hill has been greatly improved recently with a bike lane on either side. Nicely done, Pentagon.

After some meandering on the Fort I road back down Mount Vernon Road.  Smooth as glass and wide with little traffic, Mount Vernon Road is one of my favorite places to let it rip. And so I did.

Back in Woodlawn I ate up some extra miles diverting into the Yacht Haven neighborhood. I popped back out near Mount Vernon and retraced my route, tacking on a few miles near home to see the odometer click 70 miles as I turned into my neighborhood.

With mission accomplished I grabbed a cold Gatorade and a bowl of nuts, dry cereal and pretzels and sat on the deck in triumph. In minutes, of course, I was sound asleep. Father time had caught me at the finish line.

Dear USOC

As we prepare for the Olympic Games this summer in London, I wish to offer my services for your consideration. I have a talent that will surely benefit the US team.  Let me explain.

Last night my family and I took a visitor out to dinner at Bus Boys and Poets.  We had good conversation, some meatloaf, and a couple of pints of Sam Adams. It was a fine repast.  I crashed a little after midnight.  This alone put my plans for a 70 mile Saturday ride in jeopardy.

I woke up about 6 hours later, determined not to go back to sleep because my daughter had to get up early to take her SAT tests.  I needn’t have worried as my wife was up at 7 anyway.  I spent the early morning hours reading the paper and doing crossword puzzles. At 9:30 I took the filters out of the furnace and washed them on the back patio.

Then I cleaned and lubed the chain on the Sequoia in reward for its splendid service this past week.

On to the lawn. I mowed the lawn as the temperature and humidity rose.  I was soaked in sweat by the time the twine ran out in my trimmer.  This necessitated a trip to the hardware store.

Middle Aged Man from SNL

So I pulled out the Sequoia and took off for my LHS (local hardware store).  They didn’t have the twine cartridge for my trimmer so, after a stop at the pharmacy, to re-order some eye drops, I took off for The Home Depot. (I hate how they use the definite article in the title, as if there would be some ambiguity without it.) Riding a bike to a suburban home depot is an exercise in insanity.  It’s like riding through a herd of elephants. SUVs everywhere, all trying to get to that parking space nearest the door.  I pulled up next to the entrance and locked my bike. I was in and out of the place in a flash.

The ride home was like being in a sick video game where all the players were trying to get more points by running over the bicyclist and his spool of twine.  I managed to extricate myself from the land of the strip mall and stopped at Sherwood Hall Gourmet for my favorite sammich, a Gary’s Lunchbox.  In minutes I was at home enjoying a lunch that, like Alice’s Thanksgiving dinner, couldn’t be beat and thankful that I didn’t have to go pick up the garbage.

During my foray, the thermometer on my bike topped out at 104 degrees.  That’s what paving suburbia does.  The air temperature was around 85 in my yard but out in Car Nation it was 20 degrees hotter. 

I finished lunch and then did the trimming.

Ta Da. Chores done.

Now I know there are no Olympic events for lawn mowing or spool shopping or sammich eating; so, why am I writing?

After the finals of the heavyweight singles male weed whacking event, I sat down to take in the radar on my TV in anticipation of that 70 mile ride. My ADD gene kicked in and I was soon flipping between the Nationals’ and the Capitals’ games.  They were great games. I was really getting into it. Then, suddenly it was two hours later.  I had fallen fast asleep.  The good news is that both the Nationals and the Capitals won.

USOC, if you want to win the Olympics this summer. you should fly me to London. I’ll happily nap through all the important events like the 5,000 meter steeplechase and the little girls with the twirling thingies gymnastics events. And the Americans will win. (USA! USA!)

My fee is negotiable.

I’ll ride tomorrow.

Very truly yours,

Rootchopper  

You’d think that spring time would be when the miles would start to accumulate.  Not so much for me. Last spring I had to deal with my wife’s thunderclap headache followed by her getting run over by an SUV.  This year my mother’s passing and my daughter’s increasingly busy high school lacrosse schedule knocked me off the bike for the better part of two weeks. So my April numbers are pretty unimpressive – well, to me anyway. 

Total Miles: 395 1/2
Longest ride: 62 miles
States ridden in: 3 (Virginia, Maryland and New York. Sorry DC, you don’t count.)
Commutes: 5
Sequoia Commutes/Miles: 1/29 1/2
Little Nellie Commutes/Miles: 1/65 1/2
Big Nellie Commutes/Miles: 3/300 1/2

Through the end of April I have 34 commutes and 1841 1/2 miles.  That’s not too bad all things considered.

Truth be told, I am still having trouble motivating myself.  I am working on changing that. Last weekend I did a 62 mile ride. I hope to knock off a 70 miler this weekend. 

Although I cancelled my planned trip from Saratoga Springs NY to DC, I have scheduled three smallish rides for May: Bike to Work Day, BikeDC, and a ride to Meridian Hill  Park to say farewell to my friend Flor who is leaving DC.

Once I get my son moved out of his dorm and lacrosse season ends I should see an increase in my bike commuting too. As for now, I am off to bed so I can get up a little early and head to Swings Coffee in DC to meet up with some fellow bike commuters and some zombies.

I am a fat toad. Sitting around eating bagels and drinking beer for 10 days will do that to anyone.  I came back from Albany with a major sleep deficit to boot.  So I haven’t been tripping the light fantastic on my bikes.  I did squeeze in a bike commute in on Thursday on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist. Despite the fact that it is really fun to ride, my back and knees have never much cared for this bike.  It was an achy evening.

Saturday dawmed cool and cloudy.  It was supposed to warm up into the 60s so I headed out in a shirt, bike jacket and shorts. This was not nearly enough and I was uncomfortable for the entire time Big Nellie (my Tour Easy recumbent) and I were out and about.

When I arrived back at Rootchopper Base Camp, I had a phone message from Spokes Etc., my local bike store. I had dropped off my Sequoia touring bike for some major work.  I ordered a new rim and had them build me a new rear wheel.  In the process they overhauled my rear hub.  Basically the old wheel would not turn freely which suggested that the ball bearings inside the hub were toast. As it turns out they were. The cones (which are the parts that contain the ball bearings) were also kaput, so Fred the mechanic replaced them as well.

This little project started because my rear brakes stopped working. They stopped working because the braking surface of the rim had become concave from 30,000 miles of wear (it can happen to anybody, I suppose). The brake pads were all messed up (a technical term) so Fred replaced them as well.  When I picked up the bike, they gave me the old rim.  It had a sharp edge to it caused by the wearing of the brake pads.  I think I got my money’s worth out of it.

Fred told me to ride the bike for a couple of weeks and bring the wheel back in for any necessary tensioning adjustments.   I rode the bike to the car and heard a high pitched “ting” from the rear wheel. This is normal as the spokes settle into place under load (and I am a load).  The brakes worked wonderfully and the wheel turned smoothly.  Looks good to me.

Today, I took her out for a spin. I started with a one-mile utilitaire ride to the hardware store for some bird seed.  I buy something called Hot Meats which are shelled seed covered in hot pepper powder.  It’s expensive but lasts a long time because the squirrels find them nasty. And the large 20 pound bag fits perfectly in my rear pannier.  The wheel didn’t complain a bit.

Having done my birds a good turn. I took off for a longer ride.  I headed north on the Mount Vernon Trail hoping to see a bald eagle. No luck. Where do they go all day?  I’m guessing they are avid golfers. 

I made my way through Old Town Alexandria, then on to Potomac Yards.  This is a new development that is devoid of trees. I was riding on a flat road into a headwind, and cruising along at 16 miles per hour.  I never ride that fast.  It’s so nice to have wheels that turn freely.

Through the Pentagon Reservation (I wonder if they consider themselves a sovereign nation) then over the Memorial Bridge to DC. I followed the river into Rock Creek Park, exiting the bike path at P Street.  After riding up a short steep hill, I rode west across Georgetown to MacArthur Boulevard.

Bikes were everywhere.  I cruised along with my compadres until turning onto Persimmon Tree Road.  I rode through the Avenel and Congressional golf courses, hanging a left to head toward Falls Road in Potomac.  I was buzzing along at 18 miles per hour when a cyclist passing in the other direction yelled my name.  What?  I turned out to be Mohammad, by boss.  He is a bike commuter (he drops his daughter off at day care by bike for extra utilitaire points) and was out for a Sunday ride in the burbs.  We had a short chat. He is planning on going to Croatia for a bike tour this summer.

At Falls Road I banged a left toward Great Falls Park where I picked up MacArthur Boulevard again.  The next mile or so is a twisty down hill through the trees.  I absolutely love this stretch of road. I think I can get to 40 miles per hour on Big Nellie, but the Sequoia is not a speedster. We settled in at 30.

I reached the bottom and rode the pool-table flat road east.  Just after crossing the access to the Clara Barton Parkway, I heard my name called again. This time it was Ed and Mary, randonneurs who had completed a 300 kilometer (188 mile) ride yesterday.  They were riding their tandem to Potomac for lunch.  It must be around 35 or 40 miles round trip for them. If I had ridden 188 miles yesterday, the only place I’d be riding today  is to the ER. We had a nice long chat and they took come pictures. I once again forgot that my smart phone was in my handlebar bag so you, dear readers, can only imagine them.

After my second social stop, I headed back at a brisk pace, stopping to have a quick bite to eat at Seven- Eleven, or, as they say, in Bethesda, chez Sept-Onze.

With a tummy full of mediocre grub, I forged ahead. At Sangamore Street I took the access path down to the Capital Crescent Trail.  I had never done this before and was surprised at the steepness and the switchbacks.  Once on the CCT it was gradually downhill to Georgetown.

Over the 14th Street Bridge to the Virginia side of the river Potomac I pedaled.  The Mount Vernon Trail was a zoo.  I felt like I was in rush hour traffic.  Most riders were careful though and we collectively made decent time.  As always, a handful of riders with Lance Armstrong delusions tried to speed past the long lines of riders and walkers. Mostly they don’t give any warnings and pass within inches.  Fortunately for them, I left my handlebar mounted death ray back at the Rootchopper Institute.

I was now 50 miles into the ride and my body was feeling achy. Tinging hands. Tight shoulders.  Sore neck.  Pedal on, dude. 

Old Town Alexandria was a circus.  No wonder the APD get mad at cyclists.  Bike after bike rode through the intersection of King and Union which was thick with tourists on foot and in cars.  I was surprised no collisions occurred. 

Once south of the Beltway It was smooth sailing.  A woman rode toward me with a white thing on her shoulder. It was a cockatoo.  I kid you not.  Or maybe, I was hallucinating. I was getting tired, after all.

I arrived home with 64 miles on my odometer and designs on a post-ride nap.  I was snoring on my deck, basking in the springtime sun in no time flat.

After my father turned 80 he started to complain to his doctor about things going wrong with his body. The doctor told him, “Your warranty is up.”  It happens to us all unless we get hit by a bus, or have a heart attack or succumb to disease. If you beat the odds and live into your 80s, your body will eventually start to break down bit by bit After a few years of warranty problems, my father contracted cancer of the bile duct and died.  I was with him for most of the last week of his life, but, thinking he had much longer to live, left him to come home for a few days. He died the next day.

My mother was about 5 feet tall and tipped the scales at around 100 pounds in her prime. She had 7 kids.  When we stood next to her as adults it seemed like a miracle that she once carried us in her womb. 

For over 30 years my mother was a smoker (Benson and Hedges Deluxe).  As a kid, I could tell she was coming up the stairs by her coughs: one in the middle of the flight of stairs and another at the top. She quit in her 50s or 60s.  Her father savored a cigarette like it was sent from the gods.  I remember seeing his 90 year old hands shake as he had his daily smoke. He watched what he ate like a hawk and walked every day. He was in amazing shape. He died at 96 in his own bed with my mother by his side.

For the past two and a half years, my mother had the dwindles. Once she reached 88, her warranty was up.  Slowly her body started to fail her. Bit by bit, day by day. She spent the past year confined first to a recliner then a bed.  It seemed impossible that someone so frail could live so long, but she had her father’s genes and excellent care.  Ten days ago on a Monday I received a phone call from my younger sister telling me that she had taken a turn for the worse and to get home.  The hospice nurse said she’d be lucky to last a day or two. I arrived a little after midnight on Tuesday morning after a 7 1/2 hour drive.  After talking to my mother for a little while, I fell asleep on a sofa. I woke 4 hours later and began a long week, mostly just hanging out by my mother’s side with some of my siblings.

I read books (the Hunger Games I and II), flipped through magazines, played with my iPhone, and channel surfed. Waiting.  After a few hours, I pulled Little Nellie out of the trunk of my car and went for a short bike ride.  I stayed within the city limits of Albany NY, meandering down to Washington Park to check out the tulips. I didn’t appreciate the tulips in Albany – originally a Dutch colony – when I was a kid but I sure do now. After 13 miles I headed back to my mother’s house.

Little Nellie among the Tulips

Sunny Day

Open Wide

My Favorite: Two-toned Tulips

Wednesday was pretty much the same except I woke up with a back ache from sleeping on the sofa.  My brother Jim and I walked to get coffee and my back loosened up. That night I slept – more or less, actually less – in the chair next to my mother. 

Awesome Victorian in Voorheesville

Thursday I took a break and rode Little Nellie into the suburbs.  When I was little, I lived in Slingerlands NY, so I rode to our old house to check it out.  Then I made my way on back roads to the village of Voorheesville.  I had lots of company. The weather was splendid and the locals were out on their bikes too. It never ceases to amaze me how nice the bike riding is in upstate New York.  I’m not talking about the area just north of New York City either.  Get away from the big city and you’ll find all kinds of surprisingly smooth roads with wide, paved shoulders. The Slingerlands/Voorheesville area has dozens of beautiful old houses.  I am partial to towers and porches.  I stopped to take a shot of one with both.  After 23 miles I arrived back at my mother’s house and more sitting.

We played her some Dean Martin tunes. She managed a little smile. I asked if she wanted to hear Tony Bennett. She grunted what was obviously a “no”. Deano was her man.

My mother stopped moving on Friday. She could no longer see, but she kept breathing.  We were all in amazement.  A hospice nurse came and said it wouldn’t be long now.  She was impressed with how strong my mother’s heart was.  We gave her morphine to keep her comfortable. A little after 11 pm, one of the aides and my sister gently bathed her with a damp cloth.

Just after midnight, with four of her now adult children by her side, in a bed in her own home, she dwindled away. Very peacefully.

 
A few days later there was a short visitation at the funeral home and a funeral mass. At the gravesite, a squall line came through. Gusts of wind and sideways rain.  As the burial ceremony came to an end, a hail storm hit.

I guess they don’t have dwindles in the great beyond.

After yesterday’s ride, I thought I’d take it easy and do a nice easy, flat ride.  21 miles would get me to 100 for the week so that’s what I decided on.  Big Nellie had other ideas. Damned if I don’t have my bent legs back.  Off we bolted at 15 miles per hour into the wind. What’s this about?  Soon we were cruising the side streets of the scenic suburban Hybla Valley. Trust me, it sounds nicer than it is.  The best part about the neighborhood is it’s uncanny flatness.  

I couldn’t let the flatness go to waste, now could I. I cranked it up to 17 miles per hour and slalomed through a series of lefts and rights until I came to a stop six miles later near Fort Belvoir where the hills begin anew.  I skirted the hills and made my way to Woodlawn which has a few small hills.  I rode a loop around the Mount Vernon Country Club and Yacht Haven two quiet suburban neighborhoods.  After riding by Mount Vernon High School, I reversed course and headed to Mount Vernon where I picked up the Mount Vernon Trail. The MVT had its usual glut of pedestrians and cyclists but everyone was either moving along nicely or standing off the trail (a minor miracle around here).  I made good time to Fort Hunt Park and rode two laps around its circular road. 

Next I found myself buzzing through Plymouth Haven and the Collingwood on the Potomac, avoiding the nasty parts of the MVT.  This one mile stretch has two abrupt hills that never fail to cause unexpecting trail users to stop without warning causing a cascade of bicycle mayhem.

After a brief spin along East Boulevard Drive which gets surprisingly little use, I reconnected with the MVT for a ride to the Beltway. There I turned left and took the new connector trail to Fort Hunt Road. Fort Hunt Road took me over three respectable hills back home after a stop for a Gary’s Lunchbox sammich at Sherwood Hall Gourmet.

As I arrived home my odometer clicked 37, I pulled into my driveway where my blossoming lilac bush greeted me with its superb fragrance.

Lilacs (and an azalea)

So I went a little farther than I expected. That’s what spring bike riding is all about.

I’ll rest tomorrow.  I have to drive to work so I can go to an eye doctor appointment in the middle of the day.  I feel bad that I will miss a bike commute, but, no worries, my ophthalmologist is a bike commuter. He’ll do the riding.