Tag: cycling

There’s Cold, then There’s COLD

What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? I can think of three days in particular when the cold made me truly miserable.

One reason I moved south to the mid-Atlantic over 40 years ago was to get away from winter in the Northeast. I grew up in Albany, went to college in Boston, and then went to grad school in Providence. I can recall running in sub-0 weather in Albany when my ears froze about half way into a 2 1/2 mile cabin-fever-escape run. The cold was bad but the thawing out was worse. In Boston the cold temperatures were worsened by brutal winds. Providence isn’t as cold but that only means that the side streets become glaciers. Another of my coldest days was spent on a day trip with my girlfriend to Boston in running shoes. The streets were frozen slush. By evening my feet were screaming in pain as we rode the bus ride back to Providence. The half mile walk to my girfriend’s apartment had me in a world of hurt.

My coldest memory dates back to camping in Yellowstone National Park in 2023. My tour mates, Cory and Mark, brought sensible camping gear. I had brought my flimsy REI sleep sack (rated to 60 degrees F) and a silk sleeping bag liner that would have kept me reasonably comfortable down to about 50 degrees. Having spent a chilly night in my tent in a National Forest campground east of the Grand Tetons, I decided to buy a thin fleece blanket at the Grant Village general store. Sleek sack, liner, and fleece should keep me warm right? Not even close. Grant Village sits at 7,800 feet. That night temperatures dipped into the low 30s. Dang. I twice walked to the campground bathroom to warm up during the night. My guess is that the bathroom was about 45 degrees inside. By sunrise I has slept exactly 0 minutes and my feet were purple. There are no words to describe the relief I felt when I walked inside the heated restaurant at Yellowstone Lake.

Last Friday morning I rode 14 1/2 miles to Friday Coffee Club in DC. It was 24 degrees outside. I wore all the things and used chemical hand and toe warmers. I even broke out my over boots, which I used when I commuted to work in temperatures even lower. The first two miles were uncomfortable but I took solace in the fact that I was nowhere near as cold as Yellowstone.

I stopped to take a photo of the emerging sunrise. Even after the sun came up, the temperature barely budged.

Daybreak at Dyke Marsh on the Mount Vernon Trail.

Just before taking the picture, I passed two runners. One was wearing shorts. He had on layers on top and a ski cap and was clipping along at well under 8 miles per hour. Based on my running experience in Providence I could tell he was reasonably comfortable. To be honest I was not going much faster on my bike, the better to keep the wind chill down. A mile later I came upon the runners stopped near their cars at a parking lot. They seemed pretty happy having braved the cold for their morning miles.

I kept moving. After another couple of miles, I could see the planes flying into National Airport were landing to the North into a light wind. Ugh. About 12 1/2 miles into the ride I crossed the Potomac River on the 14th Street Bridge. Midway across the span I passed a runner. He had on a thin long-sleeved shirt under a thin t-shirt. He wore flimsy running pants and nothing on his head or neck. Insanity. Total insanity. He seemed not to care a bit about the conditions. Runners are like that.

To my surprise about ten people showed up for coffee. We are a hardy bunch.

My wife keeps reminding me not to complain. It’s January. She grew up in northern Indiana were schools close only when the wind chill is life-threatening at the school bus stop.

In a few days we will be plunged into a polar vortex, several days with highs below freezing. And, on Sunday, we expect to see our first significant snowfall of the season. Needless to say, I’ll be riding Big Nellie in the basement. Except for Sunday when I expect I’ll be putting all my recent weight lifting to use clearing the white stuff with my Wovel. It’s like a triceps press on a wheel.

Madman with Wovel

Cooling Down and Lightening Up

Ah, we find ourselves in the coldest week of the year. Or so the weatherman says, T. S. Eliot be damned. My memory says that mid February is worse but what do I know.

We are definitely getting more sunlight by the day. I must say that I haven’t succumbed to the winter blues yet, probably because recent weather has been conducive to outdoor riding. The Mule and I did 40 miles a couple of days ago. Sadly, I discovered that my cruising speed has dropped another notch. It is depressing to see 9.8 on my speedometer but it is what it is. I suppose when I get the layers off and get back to riding in shorts that I will see double digits again.

I’ve also been doing a fair amount of riding indoors. Today’s wind chills were in the 20s so a session on Big Nellie in the basement was in order. Riding inside also means I read a lot. I’ve knocked off five of the books I received as Christmas gifts. Book six, from an unknown donor, is next. I’ll give my impressions at the end of the month.

I have finally given up on my Surly CrossCheck. It no longer agrees with my body, specifically my upper back and neck. I offered it to a friend and he seemed somewhat interested. If he doesn’t want it, I’ll donate it to a local charity.

One of the gift books I read was about the town of Deadwood, South Dakota in the Black Hills. I have always wanted to ride the Michelson Trail (which ends in Deadwood) through the Black Hills and this book rekindled that idea. I checked and the southern start of the trail is about 1,100 miles from my in-laws’ place in Indiana. I’d need to launch by mid-May to avoid the summer heat of the Plains. The trail itself is about 110 miles. After that would come a two-day ride to Devils Tower which I’ve never seen. I honestly don’t know if I still have a big tour left in my old bones. We’ll see how I feel in April.

Nothing quite perks up the start of a new year quite like having a colonoscopy which I did last week. The prep seemed to take much more out of me (no pun intended) than ever before. Fortunately, no cancer was found so now I can go back to growing more polyps for my next procedure in 3 years.

At the start of the month, I made a list on my phone of adulting chores to do in January. I’ve knocked off several such as getting a new battery for the car, re-registering the car, taking disused clothes to Goodwill, taking old books to a used book store, and the like. I also spent far too many hours trying to gain online access my Social Security account. I finally succeeded and learned why the security software was rejecting me; I had fat fingered my phone number when I set up my account. Doh.

I am trying my best to avoid the news on TV. It is incredibly depressing. Newspapers as flawed as they may be are less stressful.

I have become addicted to word games. These suck up an hour every day. Which reminds me: today’s Waffle puzzle was posted 20 minutes ago.

My Year on the Wheel 2025

I made it to 10,000 miles for the eighth year in a row. It wasn’t easy but I pulled it off. Of the 10,164 miles that I rode, 723 were indoors on various contraptions. After we joined the local rec center, I decided to ride there and use the recumbent bikes for an hour, saving me from the elements. The rec center machines are cruel masters; the feedback from the display screen gets me riding much faster than I do outdoors. At the end of the year, I brought the CrossCheck indoors to try it out on my resistance trainer. It still beat up my body. By comparison, Big Nellie, my recumbent, on the trainer is almost as good as a massage.

The Mule was my bike of choice for most of the year, except July and August when I rode Big Nellie, my recumbent, exclusively. I experimented with an underseat steering recumbent, an HP Velotechnik Streetmachine, and found it just didn’t work for me. I rode it 119 miles before throwing in the towel after tipping over and injuring my right shoulder. I rode my Bike Friday only 201.5 miles. I rode my CrossCheck 1,142.5 miles, mostly during the Spring. That’s about 2,000 or so miles less than 2024. Since then, except for using it on my resistance trainer, it has gathered dust.

My biggest mileage month was April – 1,019 miles – mostly because of the tour I did on the Natchez Trace Parkway. My shortest month was February – 676 miles – no surprise. My mileage during the warm weather months was assisted by hiring a lawn service. I’ve learned that I would much rather ride than mow.

My longest ride of the year was 90 miles which came on the Natchez Trace tour. This is the first year in ages that I didn’t do a century (100-mile) ride. I did ride my age on my 70th birthday, albeit in kilometers. When you get old, kilometers rock.

I did my usual event rides, the WABA Spring ride (20 miles plus 30 riding to and from), the 50 States Ride (62 miles), the Great Pumpkin Ride (62 miles with my rear wheel falling off) and the Cider Ride (60 miles of hurt).

And then there is this:

Clockwise from upper left: Big Nellie, The Mule, The CrossCheck, and Little Nellie. 196,121 miles in all.

So my first goal of the new year is to put 3,879 more miles on my bikes. Check this space in May.

I had hoped to buy a new bike (or trike) in 2025 and get rid of one of my little-used ones but that didn’t happen. I also thought about an inn-to-inn tour in County Cork, Ireland but I let that slide. As for this year, I have no plans at all other than to avoid big metal things.

On Average. The Weather Is Lovely

Most people around here have probably already forgotten that this summer was peppered with heat waves that made going outside an exercise in stupidity. (Didn’t stop me though.)

Ah, the joys of summer

Lately, we’ve been dealing with what you might call the polar opposite, frigid air with no end in sight. Temperatures have been running 10 to 15 degrees F – and I mean F – for the last couple of weeks. I should be basking in 50 degree weather, borderline riding-in-shorts weather. Instead, I spend a good ten extra minutes finding layers to layer and sticking toe warmers in my shoes. I have not yet broken out my balaclava and my winter overboots, which I usually use only in January and February, but I can hear them calling from the dresser filled with winter gear in my basement.

So, on average, it’s been a run-of-the-mill year weatherwise. Now if we could just work on the variance we’d have a meteorological hoedown, statistically speaking.

Thinking ahead to decent riding weather in December I took Big Nellie and The Mule in for service. They are ready to rumble. Then snow came. Just an inch but enough to make me wary of a crash, a circumstance that my beat up right shoulder wants nothing to do with. I brought my CrossCheck inside and mounted it on a resistance trainer. I managed one hour before the boredom and intensity of my workout damned near did me in.

The snow, all one inch of it, melted in a day so I’ve been riding outside. I have about 20 miles in me before I start raging at the weather gods and dreaming of spring. (Just four months to go!)

Then it occurred to me that our newly renovated rec center has stationary bikes. I tried the recumbent model our and really liked it. You can mount reading material or plug in your phone for entertainment. It even has a fan to keep me from overheating. I did an intense workout, expecting to ride for an hour before the digital fitness overlords terminated my session with an automatic “cool down” feature after 30 minutes.

Why not?

Today I mixed and matched. I rode The Mule 7 miles from home to the rec center then rode a half-hour session on the rec bent. Next I lifted weights for a half hour before a second session on the rec bent. Then I went back outside to discover that the temperature had dropped during my time inside. Windy 34 degrees is not my cup of tea but The Mule and I managed to do another 10 miles before headed inside for hot soup.

All of this is aimed at my inane goal of riding 10,000 miles this year. Entering December I had 520 miles left to go. Given the weather, holiday festivities, and shopping, I felt the goal was going to be a serious challenge. So far so good. I have 319 miles to go with 23 days to go. In 2017 I finished the year less than 100 miles short of 10,000 because my cardiovascular system gifted me blood clots for Christmas.

The frigid temperatures have brought out the weirdness in our local critters. I have seen more vultures this week than I have all year. This may be because I’ve been riding Big Nellie with it’s panoramic view combined with the lack of leaves on the trees. I saw four vultures along the Mount Vernon Trail at Dyke Marsh the other day. The other day there was the big snake in my backyard. It turned out to be a harmless garter snake but it was very feisty, trying to bite whenever it was approached.

Say hello to my not so little friend

Today, I spotted this sign in New Alexandria about a mile from the rec center.

We’re having fun now.

If the weather don’t get you, the wildlife will.

November 2025

Stick season has arrived in the DC area. I’m adjusting to riding in 40-degree weather rather well but the winds are a bit of a challenge as always.

Watching

The World Series – On a par with the very best baseball games I’ve ever seen including the fabled 6th game of the 1975 Series that resurrected baseball’s popularity. The 2025 Series was so good that my wife (not a big baseball fan) watched most of it with me.

A House of Dynamite – Kathryn Bigelow’s latest masterpiece about the 19 minutes after a nuclear warhead is launched toward the US. It is told from three perspectives: the military, the White House, and the President. Whoa.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps – The latest Marvel movie. Orders of magnitude better that A House of Dynamite. Not! When the best thing about the movie is the set decoration (early 60s NYC meets The Jetsons), you know you’re in for a long two hours.

Say Nothing – A nine-part miniseries based on the book of the same name (see below). Excellent but disturbing and depressing. I had nightmares after watching this.

The American Revolution – A six-part, twelve-hour miniseries on how the US came to be. Another gem from Ken Burns with collaborators Sarah Botstein, and David Schmidt. Your school history lessons will seem utterly incomplete after watching this.

Ryan van Duzer’s Natchez Trace Tour – Ryan rode the Trace in October. It was fun to re-visit the ride I did this spring.

Riding

I rode the Cider Ride with Chris, Michael, and Kevin. The No-estrogen Ride. First time I’ve ridden one of these with just the boys in forever. I knew I was in trouble when they dropped me on the first hill at the half mile mark. Still I slogged my way through 60 miles. This was the longest ride of the month.

I rode 787 miles in 24 days during November. I took the CrossCheck out for a 20-mile ride but otherwise the whole month was on The Mule. Big Nellie spent the month in the shop for much needed maintenance. I dropped The Mule off for work yesterday. This will give me a jump on bike maintenance for next year. Also, my local bike shop’s service area is dead so I get The Mule back by mid-week.

For the year, I’ve clocked 9,479 miles. Just 521, or 16.3 miles per day to get to 10,000. Fingers crossed.

Reading

Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe. An account of the dystopia that was Belfast during the Troubles in the 1970s and later. Absolutely riveting. To quote dialog from A House of Dynamite: This is insanity. This is reality.

Mediocre Follow-Up (The No-Name Tour) – My journal (created from posts on this blog) of my 2019 tour from Northern Indiana to San Francisco. I was surprised over and over again at how my memories seemed to get all jumbled with time. And how much I walked to get over mountain after mountain after mountain.

Connecticut Road Trip – We took a four-day mini-vacation to Connecticut where we witnessed our daughter get sworn in to the Connecticut Bar, saw some awesome trolls in Rhode Island, and had dinner with friends we hadn’t seen in over a decade.

Cider Ride 2025

Yesterday I took part in the Washington Area Bicyclists Assocation’s Cider Ride. This annual event is about 13 years old. There are three routes; I rode the longest, 60 miles. This is a relatively flat ride, involving only 2,000 feet of climbing. After riding through residential neighborhoods in Northeast DC, participants hook up with the Anacostia River Trail system. The route has used these trails for 11 years after a couple of unpleasant forays in early December on suburban streets.

This year’s version was held in cool and windy conditions. There was no rain but temperatures didn’t seem to crest 60 degrees until the last third of the ride.

I rode with Chris, Michael, and Kevin. Despite the fact that Michael was riding on a bum knee, he kept pace with Chris and Kevin who seemed comfortable rolling along at 15 miles per hour. I decidedly was not. I woefully lagged behind, bothered by a mystery noise coming from my front wheel when I applied my brakes. The first pit stop came at 13 miles at Proteus Bikes in College Park, Maryland. There, a mechanic found the cause of my aggro, a small burr on the right side of my rim. He filed it down with a sanding stone and all was copacetic thereafter.

With my companions itching to ride on, I snarfed a half a donut and a small metal cup (provided to all participants) of warm cider. The next pit stop was 23 miles away. As someone who gets about 15 miles to the donut, I regarded this as a challenge.

After the first pit stop we headed north into the Beltsville Agricultural Preserve where federal farm scientists work on such farm things. (I am a city boy so you’ll get no insights from me.) On the north-ish edge of the Preserve we turned east onto Powder Mill Road, a two-lane highway with smooth pavement and wide, paved shoulders. A couple of miles later we turned into the grounds of the Patuxent Wildlife Research Refuge where the access road wound through pretty darned amazing foliage.

We turned around and headed back the way we came taking a meander through suburban Edmonston, Maryland. At this point we began to whine about the winds which seemed to be headwinds no matter which way we turned.

Pedaling right back into the Agriculture Research Preserve, we headed straight across the mostly barren landscape on the cleverly named Research Road. Because of the shut down, a gate blocked our way but we gingerly rode in the grass around it. Take that, Congress!

Alas, the rest of Research Road climbs up the biggest hill of the ride. Just before the top we came to a gate that is always closed (to prevent commuters from cutting through the Preserve, I guess). Kevin and I walked through the narrow gap around the gate.

We rejoined the speed twins, Chris and Michael, who were waiting patiently at the top of the hill and rolled down to Pit Stop #2 at Buddy Attick Lake Park in Greenbelt. This pit stop is known for serving apple pie but there was no pie this year. (No loss. I’m not a fan.) There were donuts and cider, and plenty of bees competing for the refreshments. I had an entire donut and a cup of cider, thankfully without getting stung or swallowing any of my flying friends.

After the pit stop we returned toward the Anacostia River trail system, Along the way we passed a MAMIL (middle-aged man in lycra) who had crashed in the bike lane. He was being tended to by tow other riders so we soldiered on. Back on the trail system my youthful riding companions dropped me like a marketing call. Thankfully, they waited and led me into Hyattsville where there was some low speed congestion getting onto the Trolley Trail.

The Trolley Trail took us back to the Anacostia River trail system, around Lake Artemesia (which we rode around on the way north), and south to the final pit stop at Bladensburg Waterfront Park. Michael’s knee was starting to hurt so we made short work of the refreshments and headed south on the east side of the Anacostia.

Now Michael’s knee might have been hurting, but Kevin and I still couldn’t keep up with him and Chris. Our travels took us south on the east side of the Anacostia then back north on the west side. Here we rode around the skeleton of RFK Stadium which is being razed for a new football palace. We took the C Street protected cycletrack (which looks like it was transported from a European city. So nice!) on the gradual climb up the east side of Capitol Hill. After playing with cars for a half mile or so we picked up the 1st Street Northeast Cycletrack and connected with the Metropolitan Branch Trail which led us mercifully to the finish.

We convened for post-ride pizza (thanks Chris and Michael) and liquid refreshment at Metrobar, a repurposed Metro subway car.

I drove home with the expectation that I would fall sound asleep during the deciding game of the World Series. I glad I didn’t.

Thanks to the volunteers and WABA staff who woke up early to check us in and endured bees galore at the rest stops. Thanks to Chris, Michael, and Kevin.

And so ends my event riding season. I am pooped.

Getting ready to head back south at the Patuxent Research Refuge
The view at Buddy Attick Lake Park
Amazingly bee-free shot from Buddy Attick bee farm. Photo by Michael.
Michael’s snack at Bladensburg Waterfront Park. Photo by Michael.
We ate all the pizza! (L to R: Michael, Kevin, me, Chris). Photo by Michael.

Leaf peeping to Bethesda

For a variety of reasons, I found Saturday’s 62-mile bike ride to be frustrating and exhausting. To make matters worse, I didn’t even bother to take pictures of the beautiful scenery I was riding through.

Today’s ride was better. I left home in shorts into a 43-degree headwind, headed for Rock Creek Park in DC for some good old fashioned leaf peeping. The first ten miles were a chilly slog; I was underdressed and the headwind felt like a relentless uphill grind.

After 10 miles, roughly at National Airport, I found a rhythm. Five more miles cruising along the river brought me to the mouth of the wooded urban canyon known as Rock Creek Park.

I was happy to find that the walls of the canyon blocked the headwind making for much easier pedaling. For a few miles I rode the paved trail without a care until I arrived at the National Zoo. The trail continues along the edge of the Zoo compound, but the Smithsonian which owns the Zoo had closed off the trail because of the government shutdown. The trail which doesn’t actually go into the Zoo itself could just as easily been left open but whadareyagonnado?

Riding north in the southern part of Rock Creek Park
No trail for you!
Rock Creek and all those leaves

I duck-walked my bike on the narrow side path through the adjacent tunnel along Beach Drive, the road along the Creek. Once back in the open air, the rest of the ride was mighty sweet. The grade of the road probably averages about one percent as it winds its way along the creek. With very little traffic of any sort, the riding was peaceful and mediative. I stopped to have a snack and take pictures.

Beach Drive going over Rock Creek
The grade is not nearly as steep as the picture shows. Easy riding.

At about 25 miles, I began the climb out of the Park and rode west a couple of miles to Bethesda where I picked up the Capital Crescent Trail for the return trip. As I started out I passed two dog walkers who had between them about a dozen dogs on leashes. The dogs seemed perfectly calm as they ambled en masse down the trail.

On the Capital Crescent Trail

The riding was easy and breezy thanks to the tailwind and the gentle down grade all the way to the Potomac at the Georgetown waterfront. As the day wore on, the cloud cover was building. I wasn’t dressed for rain so I got down to business and rode without delay.

In Old Town Alexandria I encountered some mist. Is that rain? Nope, just river water churned up by my friendly tailwind.

The tailwind made the last few miles a piece of cake. I arrived home feeling much better than at any time during Saturday’s ride. Riding when your 70 is something of a crap shoot, I suppose, but just think how the Mule feels having broken the 81,000-mile mark somewhere in Alexandria today. The Mule didn’t complain once. The Mule abides.

The Mule hit 81,000 miles today.

Horse Dentists and Wonky Wheels

Yesterday I rode the Great Pumpkin Ride in Fauquier County, Virginia. I have a closet full of the shirts they give out to attendees so I am pretty sure I’ve ridden this event more than a dozen times. The long-sleeved, lightweight shirts are made of technical fabric; they are excellent base layers for cold winter rides.

On Friday night, I stayed up to watch Game 2 of the World Series. I woke up before my alarm at about 4:45. Nothing like riding a 62-mile event when sleep deprived, I always say. After persuading Big Nellie onto my bike rack in the dark, I drove an hour to Warrenton and checked in a little after 7:30. The temperature was a toasty 33 degrees. Ugh.

While waiting around I found myself in conversation with another rider with an interesting English accent. He told me when he came to this country many years ago he worked as a jockey. He raced at east coast venues like Saratoga. After his riding days were over he became a horse dentist. Open wide! He goes from place to place filing down the irregularities on horses’ teeth which allows them to chew their hay better. Who knew? He loves his work. To each his own I suppose.

At 9 we set off, a mass start on a narrow rail trail. I waited a bit to avoid the insanity so I waited for most of the field to get underway. Being a slowpoke and the only recumbent in the field I took care to avoid the impatient lycra-clad roadies who were desperate to set a record on the ride. (I am pretty sure these are the same people who stand as soon as the plane reaches the gate.) Ugh again. In prior years I’ve seen these same folks crash along the course. No two-wheeled karma this year though. I suppose there is hope for the future.

In the past the course took a counter-clockwise route but this year it was reversed. The familiar seems novel when seen from a different perspective. Mostly we rode through farmland, post-harvest and pre-peak foliage. The pallet was dominated by brown leaves and fields of dirt offset by sunny blue skies. (Sorry no pictures. I was busy suffering.)

The first eight miles headed more or less downhill and east into the rising sun. Visibility was difficult. I was cruising down one hill at about 25 miles per hour when out of the sunlight I saw a road rider coming my way. WTF! He must have dropped something but he was unaware that he was backlit and nearly invisible.

The next eight miles were rolling hills through farmland. I noticed that my pedals felt funny on the uphills. Onward. I came to the first rest stop (normally one of the last) at 16.5 miles. I was expecting in a few miles later but grateful as I had a need for a blue room visit. With temperatures soaring into the mid 40s (thankfully it wasn’t windy) I changed into shorts and a vest then joined the long line for relief. The wait was about 15 minutes. Not wanting another 15 minute wait for food, I grabbed a quarter bagel from the crowded food table and set out into a more wooded section of the course.

As I negotiated each hill, that funny feeling in my pedals returned. On hills I use my granny gear, with the chain on the smallest chainring in front. The low gear creates some slack in the chain. The slack is taken up by an idler roughly under my seat.

The ride progressed uneventfully. I managed to avoid two wrong turns along the way. The terrain was rolling. With each climb that funny feeling while pedaling returned. Is my pedal or crank arm coming loose? The more I rode, the worse the feeling became. It became clear that the problem was emanating from the rear of the bike. Was my cassette (the cluster of gears in the back) coming apart? Oddly, the chain wasn’t skipping across the cogs; it was completely disengaging.

The problem worsened. I stopped using my granny gear, opting for my middle chain ring for climbing. After a few miles, the chain problem began to happen in that chainring as well. I’d been riding bikes with gears for over 50 years but nothing like this had ever happened before.

After the rolling wooded area, the course flattened out a bit. An small oncoming SAG (Support and Gear) car came by. The driver could see that I was distressed and asked if I needed help. I waved him off but he did a u-turn and pulled over to make sure I was okay. We agreed that I would continue on to a rest stop in the town of Remington where a bigger SAG vehicle could give me a ride to the finish.

As I continued to ride, I though that maybe the problem was with the rear wheel itself. I made it to a half mile before the rest stop when the back of my bike went totally wonky on the short rise to a railroad crossing. I pulled over and inspected the rear end of the bike. I picked up the back of the bike and the rear wheel dropped off! Somehow the quick release on the wheel had become disengaged. The chain had been keeping the wheel from falling off while I was riding. Dang.

Doing roadside repairs on a long wheel base recumbent is difficult. I managed to get the chain entangled with the right brake pad and to knock the left brake pad cassette out of its holder. I wrestled with the chain, then after a couple of attempts, during which I wrenched my lower back, I seated the rear axle into the frame. Finally, I coaxed the left brake pad back into its proper orientation. I lifted the wheel and gave it a spin. Bob’s your uncle.

Crossing the tracks, I immediately took a wrong turn, adding a half mile to my ride. Eventually, I found the pit stop where the SAG drivers were breaking down the food tables. (No soup for you!) They had heard about the recumbent rider in distress and were ready to help me out. No need, gentlemen. I thanked them and headed out for the next six or seven miles along the rail line, blissfully devoid of hills.

Since we rode downhill out of Warrenton at the start, it was only fair that we’d ride uphill to the finish. I felt very sluggish as I rode. At one point I stopped to see if my rear wheel was properly aligned. No problem. Right as rain. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ride 62 miles on a quarter bagel and a Clif bar. Ya think?

On the way home I dropped off Big Nellie for some TLC at Bikes at Vienna. Take care of my baby, Tim.

As for riding, I’ll do better next Saturday when The Mule and I take on the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s 60-mile Cider Ride. Stay tuned and check those quick release levers, y’all.

Big Nellie near the starting line (at the caboose in the background).

An August Month

I turned 70 this month. Suddenly, I can say that I am feeling my age. Still I carry on with my amusements.

Riding

As in July I devoted my riding, but for riding Little Nellie to and from the car mechanic, to Big Nellie. I rode 968 miles on the latter and 3 miles on the former for a total of 971 miles for the month. My long ride was a one-way, wind-aided, 57-mile jaunt from Purcellville, Virginia to home. All but 2 1/2 miles were on trails. The sky was blue and the clouds were cotton balls. Temperatures stayed in the mid-70s with low humidity. What more can a rider ask for?

Big Nellie has taken momentarily the annual mileage lead from The Mule: 3,901 miles to 2,478 miles. I’ll be switching over the to The Mule in early September as I prepare my aged carcass for the hillfest known as the 50 States Ride. My total mileage for the year stands at 6,926.

Reading

I managed one book this month. Mark Twain by Ron Chernow. Brilliantly crafted, this biography runs to over 1,000 pages, containing everything you every thought you could possibly want to know about America’s first celebrity. Twain was a brilliant author and lecturer and an absolutely terrible businessman. He was a champion of women’s rights and a creepy old man who platonically groomed young girls. He was a supportive business partner who could become vicious and vindictive when ventures soured (as they very often did). Last year, we toured the Mark Twain house in Hartford. If you’re ever in the area, check it out. Mark Twain is on a par with the two other Chernow biographies I have read, Alexander Hamilton and Grant.

Watching

Mostly, when I wasn’t dealing with Mr. Twain, I watched baseball. After an absolutely wretched week of perhaps the worst baseball played in my lifetime, the Washington Nationals teased me with some very promising young talent. A Bluesky account has been posting, two per day, of all the players who have worn a Nationals uniform in the team’s 20-year history. It’s amazing how many players initially showed promise only to wash out. I fear that the same fate will befall many of the emerging “stars” on this year’s team. Alas, the team finished August on an 8-game losing streak.

I went to a few games. On the last day of the month I went to a day game. In the late innings, a marriage proposal was posted on the big screen in center field. This was followed by a picture of the couple. They were sitting two rows in front of me.

She said “Yes.”

The Thursday Murder Club, a new Netflix movie, featured an all-star cast – Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley, Jonathan Pryce, Richard E. Grant, and David Tennant – but seemed rushed and missed the spirit of Richard Osman’s mystery novel. As the Washington Post review noted, Naomi Ackie and Celia Imrie outshined the big stars. I also agree with the WaPo review that this would have been much better as a mini-series. At least there are three more TMC books to go. (Osman’s fifth Thursday Murder Club novel comes out at the end of September.)

Medical

My PSA tests looked worrisome for a while, but my urologist thinks that it is highly unlikely that I have prostate cancer. I go back to him early next year for more anxiety.

For the first two weeks of the month, I grew increasingly worried that my right shoulder would need surgery. I took a fall a few months back during a test ride of a recumbent bike and landed flush on my upper right arm. Recently, I began to lift weights very carefully in the hopes of building strength and increasing the range of motion in that arm. It seems to be working. About two weeks ago while showering I felt pain as I was cleaning the left side of my body with my right arm. I gently grabbed my right elbow and pulled the forearm across my chest. I felt a stretching in my right shoulder. When I released my arm. there was no pain. This simple stretch seems to be working wonders. I have stopped taking pain medications and, for a several days, slept through the night. Next I will see how my arm takes to riding a conventional bike.

How Terribly Strange to Be 70

My odometer clicked a mighty big number this week as I turned 70 years of age, emphasis on “age”. How the hell did this happen, anyway?

Just for kicks I thought I’d look back at a selection of things I did during my 60s.

Work

Work is a four-letter word. I retired on my 62nd birthday. My first act as a free man was to purchase a seniors pass to the US National Parks.

Reading

I discovered several new authors and re-acquainted myself with old ones. A partial list includes Amor Towles, Fredrik Backman, Barbara Kingsolver, David McCullough, Eric Larson, John Green, David Grann, Michael Lewis, Bill Bryson, Richard Osman, David Goodrich, Ron Chernow, Sue Monk Kidd, Percival Everett, and Neil King.

The Arts

I am not a big concert goer. My favorite performances were by Elbow and Le Vent du Nord. I saw them both a couple of times. Similarly, plays don’t much float my boat but Patrick Page as King Lear at the Shakespeare Theater in DC was phenomenal. And when the time came, I didn’t throw away my shot to see Hamilton at the Kennedy Center. Superb.

Sports

I was at the last Washington Nationals game of the year in 2016 when they lost to the Dodgers in the playoffs. With the final out, the home crowd went from sounding like a jet engine to total silence. It was if someone threw a switch. So strange. Three years later they reached the mountain top and won the World Series against a cheating Houston Astros team. After that they began their “rebuild” which continues to this day. Well, at least I can ride my bike to the games.

Travel

With my wife as travel agent and my daughter as tour guide, I went overseas three times. First, we visited Australia, New Zealand, and Thailand. In Thailand we met up with our son who lives on Phuket. Next was Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Iceland. We finished with a fab tour of England.

Bike Riding

I did pretty darn good in the bicycling department. For my last year and a half as a worker bee, I commuted by bike to the office full time, year round. It turns out that bike commuting 30 miles per day is pretty good prep for touring.

All told, I rode a bit over 103,000 miles since I turned 60. My peak year was 2018 when I hit 11,807 miles, thanks largely to my coast-to-coast tour. I rode over 41,000 miles on The Mule, my trusty old Specialized Sequoia.

A few years ago I became a lifetime member of the Adventure Cycling Association.

Bike Tours

I rode eight bike tours, all of them on The Mule. Easily, the highlight was my self-supported solo ride across the United States in 2018 at the age of 62. Focusing on one day at a time, I pedaled 70+ miles each day through 15 states. Before I knew it, I was smelling the salty air of the Pacific. Mind blown. In two months, I rode 4,300 miles from home to Portland, Oregon. Dang. A totally unexpected post-ride sense of afterglow lingered for weeks.

My eight tours took me through 32 states, bringing my total to 40. Alas, I think the two years lost to the pandemic (and my fear of dogs) will keep me from bagging all 50.

Of course, I didn’t ride these tours without loads of help from family, friends, Warmshowers hosts, and trail angels.

Bike Events

I rode the big three local events, the 50 States and Cider Rides in DC and the Great Pumpkin Ride in Warrenton, Virginia nearly every year. My efforts were interrupted only by the pandemic and the trip to Australia. I also rode the Backroads Century and Vasa ride (now defunct), assorted charity rides in Northern Virginia, Montgomery County, Maryland and in Baltimore as well as the Seagull Century on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

Hiking

On my 60th birthday I managed to climb Old Rag in Shenandoah National Park. I did a few other hikes in the park, along the Appalachian Trail, in Great Falls Park, and in Prince William Forest Park before succumbing to lumbar spinal stenosis.

The Medical Merri-Go-Round

When you get old, you need to take care of your body. Things break.

At the end of 2017, I developed pulmonary embolisms from a deep vein thrombosis in my left calf. It was unfun and downright scary, especially when my right lung collapsed. I was hospitalized for three days. The recovery was gradual and by late April my hematologist gave me the green light to ride across the country.

My back succumbed gradually to lumbar spinal stenosis. After multiple cortisone shots, failed to offer relief, I began a daily routine of physical therapy. It has not been very helpful. I use a cane when I walk long distances.

Chronic left hip and knee pain during my 2019 tour from Indiana to San Francisco were resolved temporarily by edibles in Colorado. Back home, a doctor gave me some cortisone shots that set me right.

I endured a painful twelve-month recovery from whiplash after being rear ended on my recumbent by a dude in an SUV.

I had carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand this year. It seems to have done the trick.

I fell over on a recumbent I was test riding and managed to screw up my upper right arm. I had hopes the pain would go away after a while but it looks like I’ll be headed to the orthopedist this winter.

I had three colonscopies. If you get one, I’ll buy you some Ex-Lax. My cancer fun continued with four blood tests and an MRI for prostate cancer. Fortunately, I remain cancer free. Knock wood.

I continued on a routine of weight lifting until the pandemic hit. Last month, when my local fitness center re-opened after an impressive renovation, I started lifting again. It helps my old body cope.

Goodbyes

Jim Burgess, known to me and many others as Chet, died of colon cancer in 2017. He was a roommate of mine in grad school, Chet had an infectious laugh and an encyclopedic knowledge of rock and new wave music. He was the master of the mix tape.

Christian Maimone died from a heart attack in 2019. I helped him finish his first event ride, the very first Cider Ride. A couple of years later we did the Seagull Century together. He kicked my ass. He was a charming man, a devout Catholic, and a devoted husband and father.

Dave Salovesh was killed by an out-of-control driver on Good Friday in 2019. His death devastated the DC bicycling community. And me. He was a stellar human being. No words.

Anytime

As I advanced through my sixties, I learned that I have mastered a new skill: napping. In the decades ahead (who says I’m a pessimist), I intend to raise my napping competence to new levels until I take that last great big nap on the couch. In the meantime, I’ll take each mile one at a time with the rubber side down.