Bicycle through the winter

I said I’d mark this as done when I finished the McClinchy Mile.

Thank you, everyone, who joined me on this goal. From here on, the days get longer, the temperatures get warmer, and the open road beckons!

Keep the rubber side down, everyone -

I ask for your indulgence as I post again…

The Cyclists’ Haggadah

All who are in need of spring training, come and ride with us.
All who are hungry, come and partake of our carbohydrate-laden treats.

[The bottle of cytomax is held up and the blessing is recited:]

Blessed are You, our God, Universal Ruling Presence, who has created the fruit of the laboratory.

The youngest rider asks:

1. On all other rides, we eat all kinds of bars. On this ride, why do we only eat hard, unleavened Power Bars?
2. On all other rides, we might consume a wide range of fruits. On this ride, why do we eat bananas?
3. On all other rides, we might not dip our bananas even once in our gu. On this ride, why do we dip our bananas twice?
4. On all other rides, we ride sitting up straight. On this ride, why do we ride on recumbents?

The answer my children, may be found in the story of Passover.

This is the power bar of our affliction, which our ancestors baked 4000 years ago.

Many years ago, we were slaves to our automobiles, driving hither and thither, not knowing that a better way existed. If the Holy One, blessed be He, had not shown us the way of the bicycle, then we, our children and our children’s children would have remained enslaved to motor vehicle. Even if all of us were wise, all of us understanding, all of us knowing the book of Effective Cycling, we would still be obligated to discuss the liberation through cycling; and everyone who discusses this liberation at length is praiseworthy.

There are four types of children who ask questions on this ride: the wise one, the bad one, the simple one, and the one who does not know to ask.

What does the wise one ask? I don’t know; I couldn’t understand him either. Him you must send to a school for gifted children.

What does the bad one ask? He says, “What is this ride to you?” Because he excludes himself from the community of cyclists, you must exclude him from your ride, and he will go back to his employer and get paid double-time and a half for working on a holiday.

What does the simple one ask? He simply asks, “What is this?” You will say to him, “This is a bike ride.”

As for the one who does not know to ask, you must go to his room, wake him up and say, “Next year, come to the bike ride on time!”

These are the Ten Plagues which the Holy One, blessed be He, brought upon the motorists, namely as follows:

[When saying the ten plagues, spill a drop of cytomax from the sports bottle itself ten times for each plague:]

High gas prices
Congestion
Registration fees
Pollution
Pot holes
Expensive parking
Speeding tickets
Sedendary lifestyle
Obesity
First-born getting a driver’s licence

How many levels of favors has the Eternal One bestowed upon us?

If we would be wearing padded bike shorts, but not have clipless pedals, it would have been enough.

If we would have clipless pedals, but not at least Shimano 105 components, it would have been enough.

If we would be equipped with at least Shimano 105 components, but not a delicious post-ride dinner, it would have been enough.

If we would been served a delicious dinner and no dessert, it would have been enough.

If we would eaten dessert, but not have a hangover from too much carousing, it would have been enough.

(Pick up the cytomax and say:) Thus how much more so should we be grateful to the Eternal One for the doubled and redoubled goodness that He has bestowed upon us! We do wear padded bike shorts, we do have clipless pedals, and we do have at least Shimano 105 components (and some of us have Ultegra and even Campy Chorus, and many other wonders), and we did eat a delicious post-ride dinner, and we did get dessert, and now we pray that we do not get a hangover from too much carousing – let us say, Amen!

Thus it is our duty to thank, to laud, to praise, to glorify, to exalt, to adore, to bless, to elevate and to honor the One who did all these miracles for cyclists before us and for us. He took us from car-driving slavery to bicycling freedom, from steel-caged enclosed sorrow to the open road of joy, and from bondage to redemption.

Blessed are You, our God, Universal Ruling Presence, who has redeemed us and redeemed our ancestors, and enabled us on this ride to eat power bars and bananas. So too, God, our God and God of our ancestors, enable us to attain other rides and cycling events that will come to us in peace with happiness,
and with rejoicing in Your service.

This year we watch the Tour De France in the living room, next year may we see it in person!

(with a tip o’ the hat to Akiva and Ilene Miller)

—

With DST, I got to work before nine, and got home at half-past six without having to use the lights. I’m taking my winter lights off probably by the weekend, just keeping on my friction-hub light and the rear blinkie. When the lights come off, I’m going to declare this goal as complete.

I’ve ridden out to Duvall at least once a year for quite a few years now. The whole loop is about 40 miles. It intersects, and coincides with the Flying Wheels Summer Century for several miles, so longer variations, adding sections from the Flying Wheels ride are possible.

I started out in a light rain, but soon it slacked off, and by the time I reached Marymoor Park, I stashed the jacket away. Then it was up Avondale, and over. Over the years, more and more development has occured in this section: more houses are built, then additional streets are completed, and then even more houses are built. Finally, the frenzy of development is over, the road narrows, and it’s exurbia until you hit the Wood-Duv road.

I was very happy because there were very few cars on Wood-Duv, and I could take the lane for the long descent into Duvall.

From Duvall south is what Rose calls “Milk Carton Views”. Here, if you buy a carton of milk, there will be an illustration of some Holstein cows in a field, with then some foothills in the background, and then snow-capped peaks. Unfortunately, the snow-capped peaks were shrouded in rain and mist, and all you could see were the cows. The cows looked up at me with interest as I rode by, and you know I’m a city girl – I mooed back at them.

Then, about mile 20, it started to rain again. I stopped at a big tree near the Vincent Community Center to put on my jacket, and just in time, as it began to rain in earnest.

This whole section, from Duvall to the top of Union Hill was so quiet. Very few cars. I focused on what I could hear: frogs, birds, the rain coming down, the creaking of my shoes, the gritty swish of the drivetrain.

Then the big descent down Union Hill. It’s a 9% grade, snaking one way and then the other. I was going at about 38 mph when a gravel truck came up the other way. While it stayed artfully in its own lane, I was slammed by its wake after it passed, my face sandblasted. I’m glad I maintained control of the bike.

I stopped at the Bamboo Garden for lunch. This is the same place I had lunch when I went on the long walk on MLK Day with my husband. I shovelled down an plate of Chinese food, and downed 16 oz of water and drained a pot of green tea. Thus restored, it was an easy jaunt back up the hill from Redmond home.

Some warm days here and there may have misled me into thinking spring was coming.

This morning, it was in the mid-20s for the way into work. It warmed up, so it was mid-30s and rain mixed with snow for the way home.

I still have a cold. When I woke up, I decided I’d skip it for sure. Now that I’ve been up for an hour, I’m feeling marginally better.

If I don’t do Chilly Hilly, then for sure I’m not going to make my 300 miles in February goal. But I don’t want to ride when I’m not feeling that good.

Better, I think, to get over this cold, and ride the rest of the month out, than to push it today.

Something I ate yesterday disagreed with me, or maybe it was a virus, but I felt vomitrocious last night. I left a message at work that I’d be in late, if at all.

After sleeping in, I felt a lot better. I had a BRAT-style breakfast. Then I applied the ol’ “if I’m too sick to ride, I’m too sick to come to work” rule, and decided I’d get on my bike and come in. Although my gut did a few twangs in the first few blocks (thinking that maybe I was over-confident, and should just turn around right then), soon everything was smoothed over and I was feeling ok.

And it was a great morning. Not just a bit sunny, but a feeling of genuine warmth. I shed the jacket, and then the arm warmers. I felt like, “dang, I don’t really need to be wearing these heavy tights today”, even. I rode a slow but pleasant 10 miles over to the Mercer Island P/R before loading the bike on the bus in to town.

Well, it’s just as well I did wear the jacket, the arms, and the thermafleece tights, because the weather turned. I came home in cold rain. Now it’s time for the old hot shower, and warm up.

Am I nuts, or are there more people riding now? Example: I was on Mercer Island this morning, near Covenant Shores, and there was one bike going my direction and about four or five coming the other way.

If nothing else, it’s because there’s more light. I don’t need a light at all in the morning, and I could’ve nearly ridden home tonight without one.

I was just riding home from the Eastgate Freeway station, not all that far.

Quite often, when I pick my route home, I try to do is minimize unpleasantness: minimize traffic, minimize hills, minimize distance, minimize time. And these routes become the routine way to ride. This time, though, rather than minimize anything, I thought I’d maximize, maximize what was good and righteous.

So, I chose a different way home. I haven’t gone this way in a long time: on the trail that runs from Phantom Lake to Larson Lake through the blueberry farm.

The ‘cross tires turned on the fine-crushed gravel. The sun was setting, and the sky was glowing a magical gold. The marsh where all the blueberry bushes grow smelled damp and earthy.

It was over all too soon – the trail spilled out into a neighborhood side street, and I started to climb towards Main.

My husband and I did our first “real” ride for the year on the tandem together.

It’s been sunny and clear. The shady spots still had ice and frost, but in the sun it was probably in the mid-50s. I rode without tights for the first time in months. It was really cold initially, especially since we were in the shade for the first 5 or so miles. After the first ascent, though, I began to warm up a bit.

We just cruised. I don’t think we ever dropped below 15 mph except probably coming up the final grade (5-6% for a mile or so) the whole time, and seemed to keep it up around 18 mph pretty effortlessly.

If we can pull this off, a few hours of biking every weekend for a bit, we might survive the Chilly Hilly at the end of February.