Why We Ride in January

Whatchoo lookin' at?

20 January 2017

I was 55 minutes into an hour-long session with a trainer at the gym, doing lunges after dead-lifts, when I asked, "I'm gonna regret this tomorrow, aren't I?" I hadn't seen a trainer for seven years. I'd figured this winter would be a good time to shake up my routine and fix my form, so I spent a frightening amount of money for ten sessions, spread out over ten weeks, to learn that I was doing squats all wrong.

"Probably," he said. This was entirely my fault. Life got in the way of exercise the day before and I'd felt the urge to be what my trainer calls a "meathead," going heavy on the weights for no good reason other than to wear myself out.

My legs were sore for the rest of the day. I took that as a good sign that I'd be over the worst of it by Saturday, which would be the first of two days where the weather would let us ride outside without us having to layer on every warm piece of clothing we own.

It wasn't cold, at least not by standards set in December, when I drove to Tom's house (that's how I know it's still winter; I didn't feel the urge to add 30 miles to the day) and we set out for Etra Park to meet Tru's official ride. 

Winter rides attract a distinct group of hardy souls, which today consisted of Jud, Dave H, Tom, Chris, (all B ride leaders), Prem (who is probably at least B+ whether he knows it or not), Dov (whom I'd never met before and is the sort of character one doesn't forget), and a guy whose name I don't remember (more on him later). This was listed as a C+ ride, and while we kept the speed down, we did bump up against the top end.

Compared to hauling a mountain bike uphill in mushy grit with a headwind in 20 degrees, today's gusts didn't feel like all that much. Tru led us southeast towards Cassville. 

We were on Ely Harmony where it meats Siloam Road when the guy whose name I don't remember had a mechanical that delayed us for probably ten minutes. I was at the intersection with Dave and Prem, and we were talking about indoor training. Behind us the guys had the offending bike in their grips, sometimes in the air and once, I think, upside-down. They appeared to be messing with absolutely everything. With Tom and Chris back there I didn't figure I'd be of any help.

It turns out that the guy whose name I don't remember had a Miss Piggy problem: the chain had jumped the biggest rear cog and wedged itself in the spokes. Been there, done that. Geez. I might have been able to help after all. A misaligned derailleur and a chain improperly threaded through the jockey wheels weren't the only problem, though. In the front, the large chain ring was missing a good inch or so of teeth. When I finally saw it at the rest stop I was too gobsmacked to think of getting a picture. Imagine a large cookie, one that takes two hands to hold. Imagine being hungry enough to take a big bite. That's what this chain ring looked like. 

"I'd never allow you on one of my rides," I told the guy whose name I don't remember. He reassured us that the break happened six months ago and that he's gone hundreds of miles like this and that the chain runs just fine. Still, no. Just, no. 

Anyway, while they were fussing over the offending equipment, I had plenty of time to pull out my camera and take pictures of a farm that, on any other day, would have seemed unremarkable.

There was a brown and white lump resting in the field. I couldn't make out what it was so I used the 40x zoom and determined that it was a horse later.

The zoom also helped me play with the shadow of a fence.

There was another brief mechanical as we turned onto Diamond Road. I had time to take pictures of winter trees against a perfectly blue sky.

On our way back Chris left the group to go home. He said he didn't need 60 miles. Tom wanted to take a look at the lake in the Assunpink Wildlife Management Area, so we said our goodbyes in Roosevelt.

On our way up the hill into the park a car hung behind us. As we approached the top the car slowly passed us, windows open, bass line thumping. Two young men cheered us on. Given how drivers usually treat us, this was refreshing.

The lake was less frozen than we'd expected. I rested Kermit against a sign instructing patrons that paddleboards were to be used for fishing only (who fishes from a paddleboard?), turned on my camera, and walked to the edge of the lake.

The ice is where the geese are, and vice-versa.

Tom was standing around the bend, closer to the dock. I wandered over and took more pictures.

For once I got the shutter speed right and didn't have to make any adjustments later.

This is why we ride in January. We see things we wouldn't see any other time of year. The air is clear. The leaves are down and we can look through the trees. The sky is an intense blue we rarely see once the humidity settles in.

We stopped again where the Assunpink Creek runs under the road. This section used to spend a lot of time under water and probably did a week ago too.

I was so busy taking pictures of the ice that I didn't know a herd of deer had crossed the road behind me.

On Windsor Road we got distracted by a flock of noisy guinea fowl.

They waddle-ran towards us in noisy unison, then changed their minds and scuttled away, then decided we were okay after all and hurried back.

I didn't notice their goofy faces until I got home and looked at the pictures.

Tomorrow is going to be another warm, clear day. I'm leading a ride in the hills. If my legs hurt I'm going to blame it on my trainer, and he'll be proud.