8 February 2015
I was cagey in yesterday's post. I wrote that the roads weren't safe enough for an official ride. At the time, they weren't, so Tom invited a few of us along for an unofficial 30-mile ride from his house. "Make it 40 and it's a deal," I wrote back.
He didn't think there would be enough road for that, but if I wanted to take my chances on a narrowed Windsor Road, I could start from Mercer County Park for an extra 9 miles round trip. Snakehead Ed and Plain Jim chose that, too. We'd meet there at 9:30, which would give us plenty of time to get to Tom's for the 10:00 start.
The East Picnic Area of the park is only 8 miles from home, but, given that some of the road in front of my house, as well as my front steps and walkway, was under a sheet of hard-packed snow, I went to sleep certain that I'd be driving to the park.
In the morning, now an hour ahead, I was less sure. At 8:40 I made up my mind, skipped the rest of my coffee, and got ready to ride to the park. I carried my bike to the end of the driveway, and walked it past the snowy stretch of my street. The rest was clear enough, the sun bright enough to show me where any ice was.
I could feel my mood lifting as soon as I started. In the park, I passed many runners and waved to them all. Most of them waved back.
Jim looked surprised but not surprised when I reached the East Picnic Area. He made a comment about the size of my balls.
Snakehead was running late. He called me, I called Tom, and I took pictures while we waited.
We arrived at Tom's house at 9:59. Ron was there with him.
Conditions had much improved since yesterday afternoon. We dodged ice and puddles once in a while, and it was clear early on that we'd be giving our equipment a thorough wipe-down at the end of the day.
I wasn't paying attention to our speed; I don't think anyone was. None of us had expected to be able to ride today at all. For the first time in months, I was focused on the present instead of worrying about the future.
We stuck to the open roads and found ourselves in Allentown. Tom, knowing that three of us had extra miles, offered a rest stop. We parked our bikes in front of Woody's, but Ed, Jim, and I headed instead for Bruno's. Woody's has good coffee, but Bruno's is a bike store with a chocolate shop in the back. No contest.
Snow makes for good bike stands. Bruno's makes good hot chocolate.
Here's Kermit, with Ed's bike in the background:
Ron's bike next to Jim's Yellow Masarati:
Inside Bruno's, a candified bicycle hangs over the chocolate counter:
Bruno's daughter makes the chocolates:
It was 10 miles back to Tom's house, then the 4.4 back to the park. We were into the wind much of the way. Welcome to March.
Ron asked how many miles I'd have. Still counting on 30 from Tom, I said, "54." The roads being better than expected, though, Tom threw in an extra 6 miles.
Back at the park, Ed asked how many miles I'd have. I looked at my odometer. "60," I said.
He squinted and said, "Ooooooo." In other words, "You'd best find two more miles."
So I did, by going around the park instead of through it, and by circling the neighborhood (now clear of ice) a few times.
I wasn't planning on a metric when I left the house this morning. I guess all of those 1.5-hour sessions on the trainer helped, though, because my legs are much less fried than they ought to be. Today's mellow pace helped, too. The headwind did not help.
After wiping Kermit down, I brought Beaker out. I lubed the chain and set the light battery to charge. I filled up the tires and mounted the lights.
On our way to Gordon's birthday party, Jack and I took a detour on Princeton Pike to Quaker Road to scout out road conditions. For most of the way, we could see the shoulder.
Sunset is at 7 p.m. tomorrow. It'll be above freezing for the morning commute. If I can feel my legs, I'll be biking to work.
My winter of discontent is over.
No comments:
Post a Comment