Rides # 48: It Was Supposed to Rain and Didn't

Saturday afternoon, May 17th, 4:00
70 degrees

The forecast had been for rain all weekend. Instead, we enjoyed the finest weather we've seen yet this spring. Low humidity, deep blue sky, bright sun, occasional puffy clouds, temperatures in the low to mid 70s, perfect cycling weather.

These are the days of Blooming and the twin cherry trees dazzle in front of Chez Shad as I hoof it past them.

Chez Shad and The Cherry Tree Blooming

I'd intended that ride #48 be a longer affair but the day got away from me and, as I was committed to traveling to Sunderland in the evening to take part in the annual Asparagus Party that a close friend holds each year, I necessarily had to do a shorter ride than hoped for. Nevertheless, I made the most of the 90 some minutes I had by foraying west into the Princeton Hills.

Knowing the ride would be limited in scope, I hammered from the get-go. In the first few miles, my knees felt weird, uncomfortable, like there were little puffy sacs of pain and fluid just below each knee cap. I tried to focus my thoughts and sensation elsewhere. On the long neighborhood hill climb in the first mile of setting out, I tried pay attention to my pedal stroke, to summoning equal effort on all 360 degree positions of each rotation. I also paid attention to my breath.

And then I was through the neighborhood, past the senior citizen center, past Rockwell Pond, and starting into the hills.

In the lemony circle of the Most High

Well-rested, unencumbered by gear or clothing layers, feeling positively alive and tireless, I easily could have headed to the mountain, or extended the ride to 30 or 40 miles but I didn't have the luxury of time. Instead, I powered hard in the time I had. My knees felt fine after a few miles. I practiced deep breathing and imagined the oxygen flowing down my spine, through my glutes, across my archipelagic thighs and infusing the Plain of Hamstring with airy energy.

Ride Summary: 20 miles (32K), 14.1 mph, about 85 minutes or so. I saw an eastern towhee, a striking bird of black, white, and russet. Towhees tend to scratch around in the bracken and the one I saw was doing just that close to the road's edge. Strava ride details.

Road Kill: One dumb dead opossum.