Be the Dog

12 April 2015

No pictures today.  I needed all of my pockets to stash shed clothing.

Having only used my bike to commute to a meeting yesterday, I planned for extra miles today.

A tailwind pushed me to Mercer County Park, where I met Jack H and Ron S at 8:05 a.m. I had toe warmers in my shoes, leggings over my shorts, arm warmers under my short sleeve jersey, glove liners under my half-finger gloves, and a vest over my pockets.  It was about 42 degrees.

We got to Cranbury faster than I thought we would, so we went around the town for a few minutes, then pulled into the parking lot to schmooze.

Winter Larry had 15 people today, including a handful of Gary's fastboys, plus Gary. The Slugs were represented by me, Jack H, Ron S, Marc, and Bagel Hill Barry. Donna was there (two women on the ride!). JeffX was there too, and there was a new guy named Mike, who could have done today's ride on one leg without breaking a sweat.

At one of the Province Line Road intersections, we stopped to collect ourselves back into a group. At that moment, a motorcycle came through, blasting Billy Joel from its speakers.  I made a face and turned to Dave H, who rides a motorcycle in the winter.

"Billy Joel? Really?"

"Of course!"

Mike said, "That's what we old heads listen to."  I'm pretty sure I'm the same age as he is, and I do not listen to Billy Joel.

"That's just wrong," I said.  "Shouldn't it be Deep Purple or something?"

Sheesh.

Less than halfway through the ride, I ditched the vest and arm warmers.  The glove liners, toe warmers, and leggings came off at the rest stop, which was the Dunkin' Donuts in Arneytown.

The bottom of my muffin went uneaten.

Speaking of which, I got asked about Jim's status more times than I can count.  Maybe you should show up at the ride start, Jim, just to prove you're ambulatory.

Larry was on his newly-built, 5-year-old, last-of-the-American-made-Cannondales Cannondale. He didn't realize he'd put on compact gearing until I pointed it out. Three fewer teeth in the big ring didn't seem to slow him down. On the flip side, JeffX was on a fat-tire cross bike, which did slow him down enough to keep him at the front instead of off the front.  That, or he was just behaving himself.

Not wanting to repeat the moonscape experience of Old York Road near the Assunpink Creek, Larry detoured us coming and going.

We were on Sharon Road, westbound, on our way back to Cranbury, spread out on the open road, a mild wind against us, under a clear sky, the air twenty degrees warmer than it was when I left the house, when an SUV passed us.  A long-haired golden dog had its head far out of the window, taking in the first decent spring day we've had.

I  wish I were that dog.

I looked ahead at the blue sky and the reddish tint of the budding trees, the wind in my face.

No. Wait.  I am that dog!

Back on Old York Road, I didn't pull.  Mike and a few of Gary's fastboys did the work. I sat in, four or five riders back, with a few behind me. This is how it should be.  Winter is definitely over.

Marc and JeffX joined us on the return trip to the park.  Somewhere near Village Road I passed my high distance for the season. A few miles later I could feel my breathing change the way it does when I'm almost through a century: it gets faster and my body starts humming.

I pulled into my driveway with a little over 75 miles. Despite prescription anti-allergy drops, my eyes were bloodshot from pollen.  I was ravenous, light-headed, and stinky.  I ate, showered, and collapsed onto the bed still wrapped in towels.

Crazy season approaches.