Yow!
What a workout! I left home just after it stopped raining. It was in 50s with a light breeze. Thunderstorms were forecast for later, but I guess I missed the part about the wind.
Within a twenty minutes, the skies were clearing and I stopped to strip off a t-shirt and put on my sunglasses. A few minutes later, the wind kicked-in. Twenty mph sustained, gusts to 30. And of course, right in my face. An hour later I made it home more sore and sweaty than I’ve been after a ride since those first couple of weeks. I knew I’d come up short on a nice, round figure for the miles, but I was too pooped to even take a lap around the block. I logged a disappointing 18.97 miles.
There were predictably few other riders out today, and fewer walkers, which made it a little easier. I didn’t have to worry about traffic on the bikeways. On the roads, drivers gave me lots of room, every inch of which I appreciated. In wind like that, just the slightest change in wind direction could push me into the lane before I could correct.
Stoplights became my friends. Just that minute or two was enough to recover energy to make it to the next one. Anti-war protesters were gathered on all four corners of Goodman and East. So close to the curb I had to duck under a flag. They had signs saying “Honk if you [insert one of 20 slogans here]”. After the light turned green, I’d recovered enough to call out “Honk, honk” as I went by, to the considerable entertainment of the protesters.
In other highlights, Friday night I found the fender bracket I’ve been searching for in every last nook and cranny of the apartment. It was right where I knew I’d put it. I just just hadn’t looked deep enough in the drawer. My rear fender no longer rattles between the seatstays. The bike is nearly as quiet with the fenders now as without them.
Tooling along the Riverway trail today, I caused some woodchuck coitus interruptus. Flushed a robin alongside the trail which then flew right in front of my tire. It nearly lost some tailfeathers. Some guy had driven a pickup truck to the river’s edge. Fishing apparently. He had a huge husky tied to the door handle on a leash. It did not like me cycling by at all.
There’s been a lot of discussion on the bike forums lately about dogs. From what I’ve read, depending on the breed of course, they can run up to 30 mph. Racing dogs even faster. I’ve never cracked 30 mph on a downhill. No way I could outrun one.
Defense suggestions include squirting them with your water bottle. I carry mine in the backpack, so that’s out. Mace and pepper spray are popular, but I don’t own either. Whacking them with your frame pump is also frequently suggested. I don’t have one of those either. What I’m left with is whacking them with my U-lock, which, now that I think about it, is a pretty fearsome weapon. (Mine’s an nice, big, heavy $45 model.) Nothing quite like nearly two pounds of blunt instrument to influence their behavior. Push come to shove, holding it by the U, properly swung, you could pop a nice, one-inch hole in their skull with the lock.
I’d actually planned on practicing unlatching the U-lock from the carrier while on the move today. And I did just that. I reached down between my legs, flipped open the latch and snagged it right out. Fido’s leash held. Given that was the same kind people use for dachshunds and this was a huge fucking husky, I wasn’t sure it would. And this was an old, rusty truck too. So I was glad I’d learned about that trick. And I’m glad I didn’t have to use it. Slipping the lock back into the carrier took a little more effort, mainly aiming, but that worked well enough too.
A little more practice and I could go for style points too!
Later…
I putzed around the house for a while, then took a nap, and putzed around some more. Having a ride that was all work and no play, just didn’t seem like the way to end the weekend. The thunderstorms had never materialized. The winds had stopped, there were still a couple of hours of daylight, and a quick check of the weather radar showed the thunderstorms were a couple of hours away across the lake.
So I hopped on the bike and set out for a more fun ride.
I wanted to keep it to an hour or so, and given that I was still sore from earlier in the day, I figured ten miles or so done at a leisurely pace would just about do it. Since I’m logging my rides at bikejournal.com, I was able to look back through my ride logs and calculate a roughly ten-mile loop that included some new territory.
I took Goodman to Clinton and turned south, heading for the Canalway trail. I got my hills in very early in the ride. Clinton goes over Pinnacle Hill. It’s a shorter climb than on Goodman St, but steeper. I really felt it. Further out Clinton are some rollers. After this morning and Pinnacle Hill, even they challenged my tired legs.
Taking the Canalway west, I was pleased that the setting sun started poking through the clouds. Woodchucks—non-fornicating ones this time—just sat at the edge of the pavement eating and watching me go by. It was quiet, scenic, and there was no other traffic on the trail. Only the protest of my legs marred an otherwise idyllic ride.
There’s a little info kiosk just before entering Genesee Valley Park. I pulled up there and sat down to rest. Only five miles in to the ride. How embarassing. I drank a bottle of water and munched a granola bar. A family came riding by and a little girl on a 16” bike pulled in, tossed her bike down and hopped up on the picnic table a few feet away.
“Hi!”, she said.
“Hi yourself!”, I replied. “Having a good ride?”
“Yup.”
Then her parents pulled in, not quite sure about their daughter talking with an longhaired old guy with a bike that has fenders for chistsakes. I can’t blame them. Around here, most old guys with fenders on their bikes are drunks who collect bottles and cans for a living. I chatted with them for a while to put them at ease, then mounted up for the ride home.
I came into the park and picked up the Riverway Trail (on the east side of the river) which is one of my favorite sections. I like how the trail dips under Elmwood Ave and how when you come up on the other side, you’re in University of Rochester’s River Campus. The ride through the campus is nice and varied enough that there’s always something interesting to see. It’s up and down, winds through trees, behind buildings and parking lots before coming out at the projects just outside downtown.
Here, there’s a spectacular view of the city ahead, and looking to the left across the river, the sunset. That has developers drooling. Every couple of years someone floats a proposal to tear it down and replace it with luxury condos for white folk. It’s called an eyesore, a blight on the riverfront. I disagree.
As projects go, this one is is real good shape. There’s nothing to distiguish it from any other large apartment building, except that it’s made from pre-cast concrete panels instead of brick or wood. The place is kept up nice, there’s no gang activity, so why not just let it be? Poor black folk should have a place with a nice view too, I say.
The trail dips under the city’s new “signature” bridge construction, which carries I-490 across the river. It’s a little dicey under there now with a detour off the detour. Narrow, paved, but bumpy, wet with three sharp 90° turns that are barely negotiable on a bike. You’d never get two-way traffic through there. But at least you don’t have to “portage” around it like on the other side, and it’s supposed to be done next year.
Coming off the trail at the Dinosaur BBQ, I stopped to attach my lights before tooling through the city streets. Traffic was light and I was taking it easy. It came and went without my really noticing it actually. Suddenly I was at East and Goodman making my left and realizing that I was feeling pretty good. So when it came time, I took a victory lap around the block.
I learned why they call a nice easy ride like this a “recovery ride”. After the challenges of the morning ride, this one left me feeling good rather than sore, and fulfilled rather than frustrated.
And I got to record 11.8 miles, putting me at 30.77 for the day.
