Hardcore Nincompoops

 

Janice finds some shade

14 July 2024

I'm having stress dreams about Nova Scotia. The trip is a month away. Today I passed up Jim's ride. I passed up Tom's ride. I signed up for the hilly ride led by Dave S, and decided to start pedaling from home. That would give me the chance to warm up, cool down, and finally get a 50-something mile ride in. 

Yesterday's forecast promised morning rain that never arrived. The afternoon was sweltering. I chose to climb some hills indoors on Rouvy. Rowlf is getting more saddle time now than he ever did when I let him outdoors. Way back when, which means last year, I'd stop indoor workouts when we changed our clocks. Evening daylight allowed me to start commuting to work by bike several days each week.

This summer had barely started when the first heat wave hit. We saw temperatures in the 90s with heat indexes pushing into the low hundreds. Sure, we used to get the occasional day like this, but now? We're in what, our third heat wave? I've already lost track and it hasn't even been a month. If this is the new normal, it's going to change the way I ride.

I'm trying to acclimate without destroying myself. It's not going well. I figured today would be another chance. Worst case, I'd bail somewhere in the Sourlands and head for home.

When I woke up at 6:15 a.m. today, I checked two things: the ride list (we were down to four); and the heat index (up to the high 90s by the end of the ride). 

When I rolled up to the ride start under the solar panels at Hopewell Valley High School, I was already soaked with sweat. I'd only gone 7.4 miles. 

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," Dave said as he got ready. "We should have started four hours ago." It was 8:30 a.m.

Dave was grimacing at his collapsible water bottle. "I put it in the freezer last night," he said, "and the bottom split." He shoved it into his jersey pocket anyway, the block of ice inside slowly melting into a trickle off his back. It didn't occur to any of us to stash it bottom-up until Dave figured it out as we were ready to leave.

The four of us were Dave, Heddy, Pete G, and me. I took my place off the back. I wasn't going to try to keep up with these people today.

Some folks take to the special brand of heat and humidity that the East Coast offers. I am not one of those folks. I find it hard to breathe. I find it harder to pedal. My brain gets foggy.

We were at the western end of Woosamonsa Road, starting up again after catching our breaths on what is normally not a breath-catching corner, when a rider in front of me stopped short without warning.

I had neither the time nor the momentum to go around nor clip out. It was either crash into their bike or fall on my left side. I chose to fall, protecting my bike with my body. Janice was fine. My knee was skinned. 

Blood trickled down in three streams, following the runnels of sweat that were already there. It looked far worse than it was. I waited to clean up until we were at the intersection of Harbourton-Mount Airy and Route 518. Heddy had an alcohol wipe. It had dried out, which was perfect, because it absorbed the mess instead. I carry bandaids, both in my wallet (because I'm a glassblower) and in my bike pack (because I'm a ride leader). I slapped one onto my knee before things got sweaty again. "That bandaid looks like it came from antiquity," Pete said. It has been in my bag for a while, yes. Somehow, the bandage stayed on for the rest of the ride. I mostly forgot about it.

The adrenaline rush from the crash wore off as we reached Sandy Ridge. I started to feel woozy. I was hoping Dave would reroute us straight to the Covered Bridge Cafe instead of going the long way around, through the real covered bridge, up Reading, and back down into Sergeantsville. He chose not to do that. We didn't exactly go straight there either. We took Sandy Ridge to Rittenhouse and came in from the east. I was grateful for the diversion.

As I was taking my helmet off at the bike rack of the Covered Bridge Cafe, I found a little emerald jumping spider. I didn't try to get a picture to add to my iNaturalist collection; all I had with me was my phone, which wouldn't work on something so small. I let the spider investigate my finger. Finding it boring, the critter moved on and I went inside.

Cyclists made up most of the patrons at the cafe when we arrived. I wonder how many cyclists the general store gets now that the cafe is here. 

We sat inside, comfortably air-conditioned, probably for a bit too long.

The decision to cut out some more miles was an easy one. We followed the route until we reached Linvale Road. The original plan was to turn east halfway up, climb the rest of the way on Runyon Mill, head west, and pick up Linvale again at the top. Instead, we continued up Linvale in the shade. Dave put me in charge of leading, since we were in my winter turf. We crossed Route 31 and Route 518, hauling ourselves over the two hills to where Harbourton-Woodsville Road comes in.

My plan was to go straight down the other side, cross Route 31, and wind our way back to Pennington. I was on autopilot. Pete reminded me that we had to get to the high school, and that going up Harbourton-Woodsville and the back side of Poor Farm was the most direct way to do that. Dave vetoed Poor Farm. I said we could go straight down to the other end of Harbourton-Woodsville and left on Bear Tavern, avoiding Poor Farm. Heddy agreed. 

There's still some climbing to get to the top of Harbourton-Woodsville, but it's all in the shade, and simply knowing one is avoiding Poor Farm makes the whole thing seem easier.

At the bottom of the hill on the other side, we had the choice of Woosamonsa (hilly) or Pennington-Harbourton Road (not hilly). The decision was easy.

As we fought a headwind on the flat road, I said, "I have a title for the blog."

"What?" they asked.

"Hardcore Nincompoops!"

In the end, we only shaved off about three miles but held onto most of the elevation gain. So much for the easy way out.

Heddy, Pete G, and Dave S

I followed Pete back to Pennington, where he turned off and I went home. I didn't quite get my 50 miles. I had 49.4. I was in no mood to circle the neighborhood for the other 0.6.