...cycling for me is about swinging your leg over that bloody bike and pedaling, and leaving all that bullshit behind.
Day three of the three day weekend I went on a 60 mile ride, deep into the country of south Dallas. I fell over just trying to exit the driveway, one of those humiliating slow tip-overs; this one, I think, due to very inattentively allowing my front wheel to fall in the crack between my driveway and my lawn. Despite no visible damage, my bike noisily protested for the rest of the ride. (Today, after a little caressing, she was silent once again.)
Despite the beautiful temperature, which had dropped another 10 degrees from the day prior (for those counting that makes for a 80-something high instead of a 100-something high), I should have taken this as an omen. Not a ride-ending omen, mind you, just a sign of things to come.
The route I had planned involved some serious south Dallas country roads. I was not unaware of what that might mean. What it did mean was a mile-long section of not-originally-a-dirt-road-but-now-pretty-much-a-dirt-road. Some additional sections of road that were well on their way to similar status. Lots of dogs; fortunately, unlike in Oklahoma, most behind fences. There were two dogs, both discovered in the middle of the road, both very sad, clearly homeless dogs. One was even a tiny little dog, the kind an uptown girl might own. Except this was about 20 miles from uptown. Then there was riding through what I was convinced the most run-down country spot in town only to ride upon a brand new elementary school (too new for street view, apparently).
Then there was the wind. The wind I should not have complained about the day prior. Because with the 10 fewer degrees came an additional 10 mph worth of north wind. And my route had a 20+ mile mostly due-north return section.
Ouchypoo.
Oh, and then I got a flat tire on my twice-ridden new front tire, right downtown, just a few miles from the end of the ride.
I went on that day to eat well north of 2000 calories and sleep for 13 hours.
I’m still a little sore a day later, but I did manage a very short recovery ride and my legs feel both wrecked and more strongly willed at the same time. A hard thing to describe if you haven’t done endurance sports before.
Right towards the end of the ride today, right as I was riding through one of my favorite spots in fact, someone was headed the opposite direction, walking their one year old baby girl. She sat up in her stroller and either sneezed or made a scrunchy face at me. It was really cute and really heartbreaking.
Riding is very much about the above quote for me. About the rhythm, solitude, and meditative qualities of moving at speed under one’s own power. But it sure is easy to break that rhythm, little girl.
Quote from `dead link`.