Hot
Final numbers aren’t in yet, but the National Weather Service reported yesterday that this July was hotter than any other in over 50 years, perhaps a record setter.
Today has record-breaking potential. It’s one of my three-legged commutes too. I’ll ride to Presbytery early, and in the peak heat this afternoon, I’ll ride to the bus stop, take the bus as close to the library as it goes, and ride from there. Tonight, I’ll play it by ear.
I’m just grateful that I don’t have to walk in this heat.
There. Hopefully, I’ve padded the entry enough so these captures from The Weather Channel are below the day’s sign. First, the reason why I had difficulty sleeping tonight.
Hmmm. Overnight low of 82 with a dewpoint of 74. Can you say sticky? Still, it’s the first night all summer where the weather has interered significantly with my sleep.
And today’s forecast:
Ah, a heat index of 110. Steamy.
Even so, I’ve adapted well to the heat this summer. And I have the tan lines to prove it. I have the classic cyclists tan. I’m toasty brown from the biceps to my fingertips, from my quads to my knees, and in my face and neck, except under my chin. I also have white lines across each wrist from my watch on the left and my RoadID on the right, and helmet-strap lines on the side of my face. I even have a pale tan line at my ankles.
I anticipated and successfully avoided leopard spots on the top of my head from the sun shining through the helmet vents. I wear sweat management cycling skullcaps from DoWrap.com. Everyone’s favorite is my purple-flame bandana style one. Everyone comments on it. But the one that feels coolest in the heat is a the plain gray and white ventilator model.
They work great too. They keep the sweat from rolling down my face and neck, and they help keep my helmet a little fresher too. I still have to wash the straps, pads and inside of it every couple of weeks, but that sure beats doing it daily.
Four-month bike report
Just a Cliff’s Notes version this month. I still love my bike. I still love riding. My fitness keeps improving. Yada, yada, yada. I’ll finally get that new saddle on payday this week. Yippee!
July miles: 462. Over my goal of 400, but shy of my challenge goal of 500. Mostly this was due to not riding as much as I would have liked due to the heat. I’m keeping the same goals for August.
Thursday night I’m attending a new members orientation meeting for the Rochester Bicycling Club. Saturday morning there’s a brake and derailleur maintenance workshop before the 23-mile group ride that starts out at Henpeck Park. If I do the whole group ride, it should be 45 miles or so on the day. I’m planning on another group ride on Sunday. That one’s only 14 miles, but it’s seven miles to the start.
Sunday’s ride
I set out late on Sunday morning, but it couldn’t be helped. Given the rising temps, I cut my ride goal in half to 15 miles. Ten miles into my ride I found myself munching a granola bar and guzzling water on a bench overlooking the canal in Schoen Place in Pittsford. Okay, extend the ride goal to 20 miles so I can get home.
Two middle-aged women were on the next bench, consulting a road map and talking with someone on the phone. After the call, one came over to ask if I knew the area.
“Are there locks nearby?”
“Sure. Two. One about a mile west and and the second about a mile further west.” I told her. Adding, “About a 15 minute walk or a half-hour stroll that way.” I pointed.
“The boys said they’d just passed some locks.”
“Then they’ll be along shortly.”
“They’re cycling from Erie, PA to Bar Harbor, ME.”“Wow. Sounds nice.”
“And they’re tryng to a hundred miles a day.”
“Yikes! A century a day? That’s ambitious.”
“I know. From here they’re planning on this route,” she told me, tracing a highlighted line on the map.
I told her what I knew of the route. She wanted them to take the canal path straight through to Albany, but they wanted to turn north and ride along the lake. “They’re roadies,” she explained.
“Then definately take that route.”
Presently, the boys—two fit and trim middle-aged guys—rode up. They looked every bit capable of a century a day. I told them I admired their ambition.
“Just doing it a day at a time,” one guy replied.
Hmmm? I responded in code, “Easy does it!”
He cocked his head, “Are you a friend of Bill W?”
“Six years, a day at a time,” I said.
Alcoholics. They’re everywhere. Even on bicycles riding a century a day.
I took the rest of my ride easy. The breeze had picked-up, which made the heat bearable, but not so much breeze that pedaling effort was significantly increased. It was turning into a very nice ride.
With 24 miles on the clock, I rolled through downtown and spied a familiar figure. A guy from the rooms, and he was looking a bit wobbly. I pulled over.
He said he was on his way home and his blood-sugar was crashing. I whipped-out a selection of granola and trail mix bars and gave him a bottle of water to wash them down. And made him sit in the shade for a bit, considering it was after noon and it had passed 90°.
I got home a little later feeling really good about program people and about myself. And with exactly 27.00 miles ridden. Not bad for a 15-mile ride.
Bicycle, good!
I had to stop at the bank on the way to work yesterday evening. Coming out of the grocery store—the bank is inside—a lady in a turquoise dress, flowered print top and ladies’ heeled sandals was locking up her brand-new X-Mart bike. Over 90 degrees and she’s riding to the grocery store. Good for her, I thought.
I said hello, and unlocked my bike. She finished with her cable lock, gave me a big toothy grin and the thumbs-up sign, and in a heavy Russian accent said, “Bicycle, good!”
I returned the gesture and replied, “Yes, it is.”
I rode the rest of the way to work with my own big toothy grin.
