It's not often that I am up at the crack of dawn. Not voluntarily anyway. It's been a very busy few weeks. There have been rides to get up for, destinations hours away, and the 3 day challenge of getting one single meal together in time for a certain Thursday afternoon.
Truth is, that even though Popeye is waking up in Machias, Maine, this morning, his alarm clock is still here. And set for five thirty.
The opportunity for early reflection reminds me that the recent busy weeks are merely part of the continuum, the latest tributary flowing into the rushing river of a very busy year.
The very first entry in this blog was posted the Friday after Thanksgiving one year ago.
52 weeks.
Each day of Time seems squeezed, crammed into boxes big and little, set aside and labeled: working, riding, writing, taking care of "stuff".
Each blog post is an essay taking upwards of ten hours to write. Some weeks, that is almost equal to my hours spent riding. It's hard to justify keeping it up. I do it because I value writing practice, and I would write anyway, published or not. The blog is only a reason to be as consistant as possible.
A half hour after the crack of dawn.
It's not much of a day for riding. We are spoiled here in Florida! But even though November is usually not much of a month for riding, we still managed.
"Gobble til you Wobble!
Happy Thanksgiving!"
Bike riders are notorious calorie-burning, gung-ho-gobblers at any time of year. But the equally notorious (and ultra tricky) road of overindulgence lies dead ahead - the one that stretches from Thanksgiving to New Year's.
Yep. All about balance.
Balance is essential for cyclists, and it's not just about keeping the rubber side down.
I find there's a lesson in each and every ride.
Yep. All about balance.
Balance is essential for cyclists, and it's not just about keeping the rubber side down.
I find there's a lesson in each and every ride.
Lesson #1 Hydrate well when exercising. But not too well.
The Trail of Beers...
The Trail of Beers...
It's a Saturday afternoon and there's a Hare and his Mule pulling a keg around the woods on a little red wagon equipped with fat tires...
You must be at a run hash!
Leaving full beers on trail at the checkpoints - what a cagey technique for slowing down the front runners and escape being caught!
Let's just say 3 lonely beers sit abandoned in the middle of the trail by a couple of Hares.
Along comes a group of Hounds, running, walking, laughing, and in general, each taking things at their own best pace, with an eye to eventually catching themselves a Hare or two.
Look out! It's a trap! The first 3 runners to reach those 3 abandoned beers must either drink them down, or ask for help from some of the slower people as they go by. (Umm, as I recall, that worked better in the hotter months than it did in November.) Those fast runners may not proceed to the next checkpoint until all the beers have been consumed.
Beer, the perfect equalizer.
Hare genius!
Of course, one would expect the lean and fit Popeye to be one of the front runners.
I was, however, genuinely astounded to find myself among the front three for most every checkpoint. Over and over again.
(urp)
(urp)
Hares are not the only cagey folk in this group. Obviously the wise and non-competitive Hound knows the value of pacing himself, in drinking as well as running!
It turns out that most every hound is a wiser hound than me.
Log crossings, bushwhacking, beer.
Run hashers may wobble, but they don't fall down!
Run hashes are held weekly, but the Trail of Beers is usually only once a year. So put it on your List for next year. (But then again, run hashers have no rules, so check the website now and then.)
( Oops. Did I say there are no rules? I take it back. You hafta be 21. Yes, in people years.)
Lesson #2 Get an early start. But not too early.
The Econ....
Lesson #2 Get an early start. But not too early.
The Econ....
Good thing the Econ ride the next morning wasn't too early!
Our non-hasher friends - Krafy, Northstar, TomCat, and Inspector Gadget - have no trouble with my request for the mid morning start. All delays are for bike adjustments.
No day is a good day to be wobbly at the Little Big Econ! It's clear and cool. Gators line the banks like Simpson's on a couch. I am happy to have had enough sleep. Too much wobbling, and the gators do the gobbling!
Lesson #3 When going through a rough spot, keep going.
Ulimay....
The rumor reached the bike shop the week before Thanksgiving, and it was bad.
We don't go to Ulimay often.
It is short. 7 miles.
It is flat. A dike through the Ulimay Lagoon.
It is typical of wild life sanctuarys on our coast. Dolphins and otters, herons and gators, occasional bums and perverts.
It is also a few precious miles of shady singletrack, winding through long tunnels of green.
Ulimay is, in other words, thoroughly charming.
And it's been bulldozed.
No way! At least, I hope no way.
On my Friday off, I put Killer in the Fit and go to see for myself.
The first mile and a half is doubletrack, as it has always been. No sign of bulldozers or heavy equipment of any kind. Encouraging!
But, at the end of the doubletrack, it is as if a tornado has touched down - a long, thorough, methodical, bulldozing tornado. You know. Out of nowhere. Right where the charming singletrack used to be.
What on Earth is the County thinking? Never mind biking and hiking, where is the wildlife supposed to go? The birds? The otters?
I feel kicked in the gut. But I have to see it all. I need to know. What have they done to the north end? With the fishing hole under the 528 bridge? What have they done to the singletrack on the east side?
It's depressing to ride. Rough and bumpy. Dead brush and vines grab the derailleur as if to hitch a ride out.
The fifty foot wide swath of devastation goes for exactly one full mile. Exactly. I know, because I set my computer and measured it.
Then the carnage stops. It's a mystery. Like the south end, suddenly there is no sign of heavy equipment. How did they even do this?
The important thing is, it stops abruptly. The trail resumes as it always has. A little more overgrown from disuse, but still there.
My best guess is that the dike simply got too narrow to support heavy equipment. The trail has saved itself with it's own eroded frailty.
As much as I would not have minded finding a county bulldozer resting on it's ear in the lagoon, I am happy that the second half of the trail is still there. If I had turned back, I would not have known the island won at least a partial victory.
Lesson #4 Do not eat too much. But eat enough.
The Horrible...
The Horrible Hundred on the 21st was the next big event for Popeye, Blownfuse, and about 1500 other riders, while the West Orange 60 was the easy going alternative for me, Tranny, and Just Plain Mike, all addicted to our cushy mtn bikes.
I loved this slogan on the Horrible website.
(So I "borrowed" it.)
Or if the Cakery is closed because it's a Sunday.
I couldn't believe it. No gobbling for 60 miles! (No, Chomps don't count.)
The Cakery - closed.
Sometimes you wobble if you don't get to gobble.
Lesson # 5 Don't make the blog posts so darned long. You need time to ride!
Thanksgiving, TriLady's chocolate black bean birthday cake, camping at Alafia...
Later, everyone!
The sun is coming out!
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I hope you keep up with the blog writing. I always enjoy reading your posts, sometimes living vicariously through your biking adventures with Popeye. However, I had no idea the amount of time involved!!
ReplyDeleteJust Plain Mike