Ride # 8: In the Sunshine

January 30, 2014

A terrific afternoon. January in Massachusetts can be so beautiful! The crisp clear blue sky, the bright sun, the dryness. Perfect for cycling!

So I managed ride # 8. This has to be a personal January record. It's because of the Crux Elite. Winter road conditions pose no anxiety or danger with the Crux. Such a stalwart & responsive instrument. I'm free to ride in conditions that I would never ride in with my road bike. And now I know that I can handle seriously cold temperatures too.

Today's ride, as sweet as it was, was crimped by the need to get back by a certain time. Work deadlines. And I was delayed getting started when I discovered my rear wheel was flat. I think I know when that happened on the last ride, I nailed a pot hole pretty good, though I made it home without a problem. But today the rear wheel was flat so I had to waste time searching for the correct size spare tube (I thought I had several but I only scared up one), then spent time changing the thing. So I knew getting underway that there'd be no spontaneous decisions to, for example, storm up to the New Hampshire border and try to eke out 30 miles before it got dark. Not today.

But the good thing about that was that I rode with purpose. Lemonstar to Shirley to Lunenburg and back. Pedaling hard most of the way. No time to stop for photos. Flat out.

Bird sightings? A hawk and a crow jousting (the hawk seemed to be harassing the crow, odd that). Then a hairy woodpecker come to light on a teenage hardwood on Benjamin Rd. No road kill.

Ride Stats: 18.82 miles (29k), 13.8 mph; approximately 1H 28M in the saddle. Wasn't nearly as cold today: upper 30s at departure and 30 degrees when I got back.

Ride # 7: Cold is a Friend of Clarity

January 28, 2014

Today was the test. A work-from-home Tuesday. Plenty of time to squeeze in an afternoon ride. But the Polar Vortex has returned! 22.3 degrees (-5 c)! It's COLD outside! There's a wind chill factor. Insanity! Who would ride in such temperatures?!

That is the question, isn't it? What moron would ... what dingbat would ... would nut case would ... RIDE when it's so freaking cold outside?!

Sigh. Common sense and popular opinion were against me. I knew that. I looked at the pile of garb I had to don; and when it was on, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought "Really?" Well, YES. Really. Why not?

So I rode. And it was, in a word, Awesome. Truly. At many points, I was in awe.

On days like this, when the elements challenge but when the mind and spirit responds with Un Grand Abrazo (a giant embrace), you experience something wonderful. You experience a rare physical vitality, you realize places of reserve that you didn't know you had. The cold is your friend! The sharp, crisp, clarity of it all startles! Take note!

At one point, haaaa-rrrucking and spitting out blasts of spit and mucus, I realized that I could inhale through my nose! Remarkable! The nose-to-lung passageway was clear! I drank in air like it was a purifying agent of goodness. Huge nasal inhales. Huge oral exhales. Racing across a snow crusted landscape, craggy oaks & insouciant white pine trees looking on, I belted it out in moose-like blasts of riddance and expectoration. Be gone, bile and choler!

Then, a short way into a modest Sholan Loop, on a whim I decided to make a dash for the Mont Vonchusett. Zen clobber! Ha! Getting to base camp is all uphill. Perfect. Climbing keeps you warm. And climbing these hill town roads through gaunt woods with nary a car for long stretches of time is riveting! Invigorating! You forget how cold it is!

In the gathering gray of a Tuesday afternoon, 3:00 o'clock or so, I reached the Mount Wachusett Visitor Center entrance. Seemed a little bleak.

Bienvenue! 

I decided to continue through the open gate, down the short slope that led around the empty guard shack and then started climbing until ...

End of the Road Looking Back 

The denouement. The snowy end of the road.

Stymied, 18 Degrees (-7 c) to Boot

There was nothing to do but hold a colloquy with the Crux and figure out what to do.

Weighty Decisions Being Made

Reason prevailed. Turn back. It was not a hard conclusion to reach. It was getting late and I knew it would be a cold run back. It was. For a period of time coming down the high hills, my right hand turned fiery cold, painful to use even. Fuck! But I couldn't not use it - it worked the rear gears and the rear brake. Then, oddly, at a certain point it occurred to me that it wasn't cold anymore.

It didn't matter. Racing back at urgent speed to beat the coming dusk, I had one thing in mind. DINNER.

Lamb Liver and Rasputin Stout

There are probably many ways of preparing lamb liver but I opted for dusting it liberally with garam masala spice rub, salt and pepper.

Power Food

Then I sliced it up and fried it in the pan in which I'd fried thickly-sliced onions dusted with turmeric powder. And used a separate skillet to saute up a batch of sliced crimini mushrooms with garlic. This is power food. Bless the lamb. Bless the onion. Bless the mushrooms. May their energy live on in me!

Sauteed lamb liver with turmeric onions
mushrooms with garlic & parsley

Ride Stats: 22.09 (35 k), 12 mph, an hour and fifty-five minutes more or less. It was 22.3 (-5 c) degrees when I left and 17.8 (-7 c) when I got back.

Postscript Notes: One of the coldest rides I've ever done. The paper bag was of paramount importance. I dressed well. I actually had seven layers on my upper body. I was never really cold except my hand once as noted and then, within 5 miles or so of home, my feet got cold. But that was it. Saw no road kill. Did see robins. The sun was again tucked in gray gauze. The landscape was gritty and stark and so were the roads. I loved it.

Winter Riding

The Crux Elite has changed my biking paradigm. Winter riding is now a reality. Not a Concept, a Reality. And it's all because of the Crux. I'm scrapping its nickname "Crust" because it is more than the crust - it is the body and soul, the Totality of Cycle. It is, indeed, the crux of the matter and an elite performer in the Meander of Road and Path.

Today, the axis of perception shifted. Before setting out on ride # 6, winter riding was an adversary, an impediment, an inconvenience. I engaged it with reluctant but determined heart.

Then somewhere along the way, maybe a third of the way into the ride, speeding across a frozen landscape on salt-whitened tarmac, crows flapping & cawing above and not a car to be seen, it hit me - winter riding is fantastic! I LIKE it, even though I'm not supposed to. It's dangerous and arduous. The elements are enemies, the cold a curse. So it's said. Pivoting on opinion, in a flash I saw it all differently. It was not a burden, it was a gift! Winter riding reminds you that you are alive!

Dress properly. That's the key. And have the right bike too. Only a cross bike or a mountain bike will do. Cold? Layers. Wet? Position a plastic shopping bag inside your tights across your butt. Windy? Wear a wind breaker. A brown paper shopping bag between jerseys shields the chest. And then ride safely, consciously, defensively, reverently.

Winter Riding,  Be Alive!

Ride # 6: The Yin and Yang of It

January 26, 2014, 23 Degrees F

If you looked out the window or walked to the end of the sidewalk and looked at our street (ice covered, snowy, treacherous), and if you based your assessment of over all road conditions on it alone, you would conclude that attempting to ride today would be silly, even stupid. Luckily for me, I'd gone out earlier and knew better. We'd driven over to Groton to retrieve the year's first CSA meat & poultry allotment (we got a whole frozen turkey! I tried not to read too much into that). On the way to and from, I studied the roads and determined that they were better than passable. They were ride-able.

Last night's snow was a mere dusting, not more than a quarter inch, and because it was so cold (IS so cold), the snow is powdery and on the move. Icy wind gusts blow it all over. This is particularly noticeable when you come to an open stretch in the road, perhaps a stretch between two fields; in those places the snow has drifted across the road and poses a hazard for cars and bikes alike. All of the roads have narrowed somewhat; the shoulder reduced to sand and road debris now, and an icy snow crust edges that. Some roads are narrower than others.

The key, I realized, would be to stick to the least traveled roads, and wait until midday or later to go.

So that's what I did. Though not without a bravura display of yipping. Should I really try to ride in this cold? What if I go and it sucks and I have to slink home after 15 minutes? Should I stay home, swaddle myself in warm, loose-hanging clothing, and work on the novel? Eat an early lunch and an early dinner? Or should I actually gear up and give it a go? Maybe tool around the neighborhood a little just to test things out?

By 12:30, I couldn't stand it. I had to ride so I layered up and got on with it. Temperature at departure? 23.6 F (-4.6 C).

But the sun was out. The sky was bright blue. Remnant snow on the slate roof melted and dripped from the eaves. The sun enveloped the entire landscape in shine and brio. And as soon as I turned off my street and onto rt. 13, I KNEW I had made the right decision. The road was mostly dry. Actually, it was parched white with salt, and there was a lot of sand and I could tell there would be wet spots but for the most part it was, as I'd hoped, completely okay.

I crossed rt.2 and powered my way up the hill, under the train tracks, through the two lights, and out the other side, into North Lemonstar and on to Lunenburg. Little traveled back roads. No traffic. Me and the blue sky, my shadow proceeding me, leading me. The sun. Huge old bare oaks etched black against against white. Crow caw. An alarm of blue jays from a copse of hardwoods. Robins. The robins must be adapting to the changing climate. Growing up, we began looking for the first robins to return from the south in late March; we took it as a sign of spring's arrival when the first robins were spotted. Now? I've seen them in bunches these last three rides.

Shad at the Midpoint of Ride # 6
Shirley Center, Town Hall

When I reached Shirley Center, about 50 minutes in, I pulled over and called ND to let her know that I'd be out longer than I'd initially said. When I'd set out, I'd told her I'd be gone maybe an hour (even then, I was doubting the conditions and my staying power). It was going to be longer than that. At the moment I snapped the above pic, I figured I would ride another hour, maybe more. Then I happened to look in the other direction, to the west where the sun was and the direction in which I'd be riding home. And I noticed that the sun was slowly being consumed by the onset of a massive gun metal gray cloud bank.

The Dimming in the West

It was the yin yang moment. The entire ride up until this moment had been sun-blessed, blue skied. As soon as I turned and looked toward the west, the temperament of the ride morphed from light and warm to ominous and chilled. As soon as I was underway, I noticed the cold coming on. The sun had provided the warmth of optimism. The gauzy Shroud of Grim tested one's mettle. I passed the test. I rode strong, dauntless, straight into the head wind that came driving from the west.

When I got home, the temperature was 20 degrees. And I was still warm enough, today's layers were well chosen and served me well. Even my hands were warm. I'd layered with elan and sagacity.

Ride Stats: 21.9 miles (35 k), 12.6 mph, about an hour and forty minutes in the saddle. 147.6 lbs this morning.

Ride # 5: Layer Up

January 25, 2014

I had no intentions of riding today. A Saturday at the end of January, it didn't even register as a possibility. The forecast was for snow. But it didn't snow. Not when they said it would. And then the temperature topped 34 degrees (1.1 C). It was a little after noon. I was home and had all afternoon which really, for winter riding, was like having all the time in the world. A couple of hours ransacking the hills in almost-freezing gray shroud, why not?

So I layered up, saddled up, and set out eagerly, in a good humor.

Lucas Rd, Sterling, MA

Fantastic. In the craw of winter. Like a crow, I steal a morsel from the road. I saw several crows en route and enjoyed their caw croak. I saw blue jays and robins. Steel gray smoke-hued cloud frowns. I saw black birds I couldn't identify. And I was ever mindful of the road, the treacherous joyous sandy road of Forward.

I think that because the forecast had been for snow, a lot of people stayed off the roads. I encountered few cars. Always a good thing. But there is a spookiness about the raw winter landscape that, in the absence of other people, seems almost menacing. It's a stark and cranky place with ghosts whispering across hundreds of years of Januaries.

Mirick Rd, Princeton, MA

Today, brisk wind. Gusts in the treetops. Gusts across the road. The tree trunk silhouette black against the crusted snow. I think that at a certain point on every ride you realize what you're actually doing, you grasp where you actually are. You are hurtling along hilly winter countryside roads on a bicycle. And it amazes you! It amazes me. Every time.

Shad Style in Amazement

Of course, the only way to ride in the winter is to ... ride in the winter. I feel silly sometimes, all costumed-up in layers, pedaling roads in the crappiest conditions, how absurd! Yet in the end, absurdity is part of the Big Embrace. Best of all when we conduct our absurdity with grace. And mindfulness.

Frozen Gnomic Flow and the Grace of Troll
January 25, 2014

From a training perspective, the best part of today was getting out there and experiencing a hint of what the Rasputitsa might present. Cold, bluster, treachery, the indifference of sand. No mud, but a few patches of frozen road sludge unavoidable, the Crux handled it all superbly, this bike is fine! I'll get a new rear tire for the Big R in April. And a new chain. Nearing a thousand miles on the present one.

Ride Stats: 23.08 (37k), 12.4 mph, an hour and fifty minutes. 33.3 degrees when I left (an auspicious number! I enthused myself), 35.2 degrees (1.6 C) when I got back. Maintained good humor the entire ride, felt strong on the hills.

Ride # 4: Talking Myself Into It

January 20, 2014

I had to talk myself into today's ride. Today was supposed to be about the after-glow of the Patriot's victory in the AFC Championship Game against Denver, a day to sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast with lots of coffee and toast, and enjoy the sports pages. Argh! Somehow the Patriots didn't get the memo and LOST and in the wake of that debacle yesterday afternoon, I ate more lamb than I should have, and drank freely of the big Chimay Ales in the fridge, and stayed up late last night scribbling gibberish in my notebook.

So that today I was more than a bit fuzzy & foggy when I woke. Parched. Dehydrated. And fatter. I forgot to mention that Saturday night we had a dinner party of epic proportions, 13 of us in total, a giant turkey, gratins of cheesy potatoes, splashing flagons, a wheel of Brie baked in a brioche, gooey spinach artichoke dip, bread, brownies and cake. I ate like a stevedore. Then re-visited my gluttony yesterday with football, more Belgian ale, a leg of lamb, braised cabbage with apples, a spinach salad heaped with hard boiled eggs, feta cheese, red onions, and a bath of glistening olive oil. A debauch of wonder! Which lead directly to the scale this morning and a 3+ lb weight gain; 149.9 lbs. A chicken wing shy of 150.

But the dripping eaves alerted me to the fact that something mild was going on outside. When I went out to run an errand shortly after noon, I could see that the roads were by and large dry, even though we had 4 inches of snow just two days ago. They were ride-able.

I told myself that I had to ride. Conditions permitted it. Seize every opportunity, no matter how small. Ride for 30 minutes. 45 minutes. Ride around the neighborhood like a criterion. But ride when the chance is there. So I did. And it ended up being excellent, though I was not strong. The roads were not a problem, it was a holiday Monday afternoon so there were few cars out; I managed a 90 minute ride in the hills, an unexpected Sholan Loop.

Ride stats: 16.54 miles (25k), about 90 minutes (the potential for ice slow the pace), 12.1 mph. 40 degrees when I got home.

Ride # 3: Layers

The key to winter riding is layering. If you assemble the correct layers for the conditions, then you won't be cold or wet. Over the years I've accumulated a rag box of various jerseys, tights, gloves, balaclavas, etc., so that I don't often lack the proper attire. Sometimes I make the wrong choices for the ride but that hasn't happened lately.

Today, for example, it was cold, just around freezing, so I knew I needed warm upper body garments. Not a day to worry about aerodynamics. So I opted for a poly-prop long underwear top, a synthetic fiber turtleneck, an L.L. Bean fleece shirt/sweatshirt, a Pearl Izumi zip-up cold-weather warm-up jacket, and a bright orange wind breaker shell. In between the turtle neck and the fleece shirt I slipped a thick brown paper bag. Cold? What cold? I sweated. Not too much, just enough. I never chilled down.

On the bottom half, I wore poly-prop long underwear, a pair of bike shorts, and heavy weight tights over all. I spread a plastic shopping bag over my ass between the tights and riding shorts; lacking a fender on the bike, this protective action - sort of like a plastic bag diaper - works fairly well keeping the butt dry. Warm socks and booties. Two pair of gloves; a liner glove inside a neon green reflective cold weather full-fingered cycling glove.

Clothing and warmth isn't the obstacle to winter riding. Road conditions are. And weather. I am yet to assemble the proper gear for rain. I doubt I will. To date, I've drawn the line at riding in rain (though once in a while I've been caught in a summer downpour and not regretted it). And if the roads are too wet or too icy or too snow-covered, that's a deterrent. Riding on bad roads around here, with all the car traffic, is just too dangerous.

Now, if the roads are in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont and the day is April 19th, well, that's another story. In fact, that's the story at which we're now actively working towards arriving.

Layers, Ride # 3, Pano-Vision

Ride # 3: The Training Begins in Earnest

January 18, 2014, 8:30 AM

The takeaway from today? When in doubt, press on. That's an approach right out of the Virginian's wheelhouse.

I shouldn't have been able to ride today. There was snow predicted. Maybe a few inches by noon. But it wasn't snowing when I snapped the picture above, the now traditional pre-ride view down the sidewalk from the front porch. I hustled inside and geared up, only to re-emerge 15 minutes later to see a gathering skein of snow crystals on the sidewalk and an unfortunately steady falling of more. I set out anyway. Went a block and realized I'd forgotten the paper bag. And realized too the windbreaker I thought I didn't need, I needed. So went back, got them, and pressed on.

Bruegelian Byways Into the Hills

And weirdly, the snow began to trail off. And as I got across town and started climbing into the hills on the usual Sholan Loop route, it had stopped completely. The roads were vaguely damp, not wet. The light was like the light in Bruegel's masterpiece of late snowy village afternoon, Hunters in the Snow (1565).

On the long gradual climb up to the hilltop orchards, I passed a dead rabbit, probably hit in the last 24 hours so I count it as fresh road kill. Conditions were too dicey and time too valuable to stop and rustle out my phone to take a picture, so I went on. And within moments I heard a cacophony of squawking ahead. I glanced up to see a grave and perilous moment of imminent roadkill.

Two tufted titmice in aerial combat, their talons locked together, their slate gray bodies plummeting to the pavement. And cars approaching from ahead and from behind. I acted instantly, veering across the road waving my gloved hand at them and shouting "he-YA!" It worked. They split up just before hitting the tarmac and flew off. I veered back across the road and resumed my rhythm. Success!

It snowed intermittently. At one point, huge lazy flakes floated down, the kind you used to try catching on your tongue. Almost no cars. Just about freezing, maybe a degree or two below. And beautiful. The stark skeletal tree silhouettes against the snowy landscape. A cawing crow. Blackbirds scattered through the top of a grizzled old maple tree. A flock of robins bounding over the still bare south-facing Sholan Farm dun colored hilltop.

Sholan Farm

And later it snowed more heavily. In fact, I'd ridden for an hour and was heading back, no precipitation happening, and the little Virginian sitting on my shoulder said 'maybe you should just ride back up to Sholan and get another half an hour into this ride, you need to train for the Rasputitsa, after all'. So I did. Powered back up the hill and snapped the photo above. Checked out the robins. And then suddenly realized that the snow had started. It came on quickly and in no time it was steady and the dun roadside was dusted in white.

I hastened into the saddle and hammered downhill. The snow was coming up from the lower elevations so I rode directly into it. What exhilaration! The smack of the snowy crystals onto my helmet and cheeks, the lashing of my windbreaker, the splacky roadside gutter cack blurry beneath my wheels! Yes!

Ride Stats: 19.81 miles (31k), 13.6 mph, about 90 minutes pedaling. Inclement conditions. About 32 degrees. Weight, 146.4 lbs (66kg). Roadkill: one rabbit. Road Rescue: two tufted titmouse.

Ride # 2: Because I Could

January 16, 2014

The snow is receding and we're in the midst of a stretch of reasonably mild weather. The temperature almost hit 40 (4 C) today which doesn't sound so warm but the humidity was high and the air lacked bite. I'd thought it was supposed to rain but it didn't. Instead, the afternoon unfolded in sepia tone glow and by 2:00 o'clock the thick cloud cover had thinned noticeably.

It was time to ride. I had about 2 hours of good light and then an hour of fading light. Unfortunately, I do not have a well-lit bike; no headlight and, do'h!, a taillight that's running low on batteries (so it blinked rather feebly and probably wasn't very visible). Road conditions were better than expected, not that wet but really sandy. Nonetheless, these haphazard rides on gloomy afternoons in poor light are challenging and demand complete mindfulness. This is part of the allure.

One of the great appeals of cycling for me is the necessity of paying attention, of being completely present. When you are riding a bicycle, especially in inclement conditions, you are, first and foremost, RIDING A BICYCLE. It's like sitting meditation only faster and with more visceral stimuli. But it's freeing. You are free from having to do anything but pay attention and pedal, you are relieved of the burden of burdens. You are one being on two revolving circles with your legs (and lungs and heart and fiber ...) carrying you ever forward.

The Same Road is New Every Ride

And each ride is different. Even when you've ridden the same road fifty times, the fifty first time might as well be the first. You may know where the road leads but you do not know what the trip will be like getting there nor what you'll see or feel or think along the way. This is how riding the same roads time and time again never becomes boring. Boredom is a weakness of imagination.

It's half way through January and the calendar is marked. There's a big red hammer & cycle inside a chain ring stamped onto Saturday, April 19. Three months and three days from today. The Rasputitsa. Already I'm feeling both anxious and excited, nervous yet pumped. Today's ride was good. I felt great in the saddle. The bike felt like a comfortable extension of myself. I relished the damp, the cold, the raw immediacy of the sand and ice and roadside gunk. Everything looked like punishment but the ride was total joy.

Ride #2 Stats: 26.45 miles (42.5 km), 14.5 mph, about 1 hour and 49 minutes in the saddle. Lemonstar to Lancaster to Shirley and back. No fresh roadkill! Weight this morning: 145 lbs even (65 kg).

Rasputitsa

From the good people in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont who brought us the Dirty 40, we can now look forward to the 1st ever Rasputitsa. Huh? Sounds vaguely salacious.

Turns out that Rasputitsa, in Russian, means "mud season when roads become difficult to traverse." Or so the web page says. Turns out that's essentially correct. Gnarly, dude! Indeed. Covering some of "Vermont's coldest and barren landscapes" this inaugural race covers 47 miles, 31 of which are described as being on "gravel." Or more likely on mud and ice and potholes and frost heaves.

So now I have a training goal ala Ventoux Calls. I have essentially three months to develop some race conditioning. My weight is good right now but I'll need to build strength and endurance. That may prove challenging given the time of year, but InI must try.

"Remember, the Lanterne Rouge Goes to the Gulag"

Ride # 1, 2014 Underway

January 12, 2014, Lemonstar

January in New England can run the gamut of weather conditions. The first ten days of this new year are evidence of that. Between the 1st and the 10th we saw a nor'easter dump a foot of snow, temperatures dip below zero several nights, daytime highs in the mid teens, an inch of rain, and temperatures as high as 58 degrees F (14 C) during the proverbial January Thaw.

Yesterday it nearly hit 60 degrees. Today, Sunday, it wasn't that warm, topping out around 48 or so, and it was windy. Normally something of a curse, the wind in this instance was a blessing as, overnight and through this morning, it dried out all the roads (for the most part). Great conditions for a winter ride, so I seized the moment.

Flat Hill Orchard, January 12, 2014

Ride # 1 of the year comes three days earlier than ride # 1 last year. That means nothing in the long run, but in the short term I'm psyched. It's always good to notch the first ride of a new year. I'd say "of a new season" but I'm operating under idea that there is no "off season," that while winter presents many challenges, it's still a time for riding. Cycling is a continuum, a way of life.

During the New England winter you have to take every opportunity to ride that presents itself. Last year, I rode on the 15th of January but then winter went into overdrive with massive snows and Siberian cold and I didn't ride again until the middle of March, two months later. Of course I'm hoping that this year doesn't ape last year and that I'll manage another ride this week. The forecast is for continued mild conditions and no significant precipitation.

But that's getting ahead of the game. Back to ride # 1 of 2014. Astride the Crux Elite, I launched from Lemonstar and made for Lunenburg and Shirley. It was sunny earlier but by the time I headed out huge swathes of thick gray clouds had rolled in. I nailed the apparel today so I was warm but not too warm and didn't miss the direct sunlight, except for missing the cheery sense of being that sunshine conjures. Instead of dancing on the pedals with solar joy, I rode purposefully, carefully, ever vigilant, mindful of the danger of being unmindful.

Keep Off Dam

Traffic was light. I stuck to back roads. There were no incidents, no close calls, no drama. It was a workmanlike ride, I was just happy to be in the saddle, my legs pumping and turning the wheels, the chain gliding around and around on its cogs. The Crux performed flawlessly.

Being disciplined about something like cycling, being willing to really embrace it and make it an integral part of your life, brings many rewards not least of which is self-empowerment. When presented with choices (to ride? or not to ride?), you opt not for what's easy but for what's hard. In turn, your practice validates your passion. You go to sleep at night honestly tired, you wake up in the morning with the echo of the previous day's effort murmuring in your core. Discipline is like a smoldering fire in the belly laugh of life.

Ride Stats: First ride of the year. 25.98 miles (41k), 13.6 mph, almost 2 hours in the saddle. PBR day. Roadkill tally* - 1 squirrel, 1 nuthatch (I think). 45 degrees, overcast mostly. Pleasant. Sandy roads.

* Am going to document/record fresh roadkill for each ride. Example from today:

Dead Squirrel

Some Notes on 2013

First ride, Tuesday, January 15. Did a Sholan Loop, about 15 miles (24k). I was on the road bike. Next ride? March 16. On that particular Saturday I started riding the new cyclocross bike, a Specialized Crux Elite, and went about 12 miles (19K). In my ride book I noted that I "loved the comfort of the beefier tires."

I climbed Mount Wachusett for the first time in years on Tuesday, April 30, the 16th ride of the year. Sweet! The entire road up and down was now completely repaved and re-marked, it was beautiful to ride on.

On Saturday, April 27 I did the first giant ride of the season (still riding the Crux). 43 miles (69k). Lemonstar - Shirley - West Groton - Pepperell - Ayer - Devens - back through Shirley - to Lemonstar again.

For ride #28, on June 26, I switched to the road bike. The computer on it was broken. I did the next 16 rides without it. Those 16 rides were important and grew increasingly lengthy time-wise. I rode to the top of Wachusett three times.

August 15, a Thursday, the Virginian came down and we incorporated a Drumlin Ramble with the summit of Wachsett, 42 miles (67k).

August 22, Saturday, the D2R2! The pinnacle of the season and the longest ride, 95 miles (150k). A spectacular day in the hills of southern Vermont and the hill towns of Massachusetts outside Deerfield.

September 7, Saturday, I did my longest solo ride, 71 miles (114k). That included, in the first 14 miles, the top of Wachusett (the 6th ascension to date). This ride also included about 50 miles of completely new roads. Lemonstar - Princeton & Wachusett - Sterling - Boylston - Wachusett Reservoir - Berlin - Bolton -Harvard - Ayer - Shirley - and back. My intention had been to do a century by continuing from Harvard up to Groton and from there on the rail trail all the way to New Hampshire and then back to Lemonstar that way, but I ran out of time; I'd had to stop too many times at various points to consult my map.

November 9, a Saturday, I met the Virginian at Lake Mattawa in Orange and we rode the cyclocross bikes on dirt roads and forest paths all through Wendell, New Salem, Shutesbury, Montague. It was cold, 40 degrees, weak sun, but fantastic. 47 miles (75k).

Wachusett summits? 13, an unprecedented number for me in a single year. Interestingly, they became routine. Whereas in years past, a Sholan Loop (about 15 miles) was the standard ride and a round trip to Wachusett was an ass-kicker (about 28 miles or 45k). This summer, the Wachusett summit (or a ride of equal length) became the standard ride. Instead of coming home thrashed, I came back feeling great.

Mileage Count 2013

Crux - 788 miles (1268k)
Road Bike - 1,212 miles (1,950k) (+ additional 16 rides w/out a computer)
--------
2,000 miles (3218k)

Fat Measure

Beginning of the year - 170 lbs
End of the Year - 147.2 lbs

A New Year, 2014

Reykjavik, Iceland, January 1st, 2014

The Icelandic people eat a lot of fish. Their economy is based on fish, the salmon is the best to be had anywhere in the world. Being a self-described shad I feel a kinship with the Icelanders. In fact, so much do I love Iceland that ND and I opted to spend the New Year's holiday there, in room 403 of the Hotel Odinsve in Reykjavik.

Iceland does not have a huge bike culture, at least not as I've been able to ascertain on the strength of two short visits, one in July 2011, and just now in December/January 2013/2014. During the summer trip two years ago, we did see a few distance cyclists, mostly mountain bikes loaded down with panniers, but that was about it. I don't recall road bikes. Most of the roads wouldn't be conducive to road bikes anyway. It does appear that some people use bikes in Reykjavik but to what extent I don't know.

But here's the good news for Shad Rides. I ended last year under 150 lbs (actually, somewhere around 148). Had someone suggested to me a year ago that, by the end of the year, I would have lost upwards of 25 lbs (and kept it off), I wouldn't have believed it. Such a thing was inconceivable just a year ago. And yet 12 months later, here I am - easing into the off season (and getting through the holiday feasting & drinking) without porking out too seriously.

Riding goals for 2014? I'd like to match the number of rides of 2013 (100), and would like to exceed my total mileage (yet to be tabulated for last year).

The D2R2 marks a mid-year plateau. This year's edition is scheduled for August 23 and I'm already registered for the 180K.

Beyond that, my goals are simply to stay healthy, keep the gluttony in check, keep the weight off, and ride as much as possible.

A shout-out to the Mighty Scrod in Frankfurt - may you heal well and swiftly, mon ami! Looking forward to sharing the cycling love with you in 2014.

And to the Virginian aka Benzoid, the Benster, Nut, he of the 4,000+ mile season, looking forward to much climbing with you, mon, not to mention the D2R2. Allez!

May we all have a prolific year in the saddle.

Another Road to Ride, Hella, Iceland, December 28, 2013