February Surprise

The surprise is a weekend in February when the temperature climbs above 50 degrees F both days. Not to mention that, since Tuesday past, daytime temps have been above freezing. Which is odd, and classic, given that a week ago, on Valentine's Day evening, air temperature plummeted to 18 below zero here in Woo City, a record for the day.

What's different about this February thaw is that, during most years, the roads and streets would be lined with plowed snow so that when the day warmed above freezing, the snow would begin to melt and saturate the road surface. These days, there is no snow lining the roadways, it all melted this week. So the roads are dry. Very unusual circumstances, a delight.

Yesterday, Saturday, I ventured out on the cross bike, the Specialized Crux Elite, to ascertain the road conditions and to generally plunder the winter roads for my own amusement. Turns out, I could have ridden the road bike without a problem. Sure, there was some sand and some rough patches here and there, and the occasional run-off, but nothing alarming. In fact, today, Sunday, I eschewed the cross bike, saddled up the Allez Comp, and had a terrific 23 miler, essentially repeating yesterday's ride, though in reverse.

The bad news to report is that, despite February's relative mildness, I have been afflicted with Winter Debauch. Meaning that, using inclement weather and cold temperatures as an excuse, I have skipped chances to be active and have, instead, taken long afternoon hot baths; I have spent hours in the kitchen preparing beef stews or chicken thigh braises or other hearty comfort food dishes; I have reclined on couches and beds and divans and settees with book or crossword or newspaper and wiled away hours. I have slacked off. To excess. To the gain of 6 pounds in three weeks.

March is nigh. A harsh, bleak, taskmaster of a month. A month for hair shirts and gruel, for penance and fervor. And in the wake of March, the Rasputitsa. In March, we shall put our shad shoulder to the wheel.

Newton Hill clear of snow

The broad swath of Hobbit trail 

At one point, early in the ride on Saturday, I began to break a sweat and immediately began to itch madly. Inaccessible points across my back and up and down my spine. Torture! My layering was wrong! I had to do something - so I pulled off in a neighborhood baseball park and hid myself behind the closed concession stand, and redressed.

Changing station

Then the road again.

Behind the Worcester Airport

Rounding the end of the runway

February 21, 2016
Holden Reservoir

Elm Park, Woo City
February 21, 2016

Flying Dreams

"Thoughts Become Things" 

Drinking a Night Crawler India Dark ale from Flying Dreams Brewing Company in the Woo, and I read on the label (the art work of which looks like a cross between Mouse's legendary Grateful Dead illustrations, and Shaolin graffiti ) the slogan "Dream Big. Thoughts Become Things."

Say no more.

Let's see, I dream of a winter where it never snows, though it does get cold, cold enough to crisp up the air nice and clean and sharp. Where the deciduous trees, bereft of foliage, etch themselves proudly against a shamelessly naked landscape. When the daytime temperature strays into the 50s and the sun radiates down through a gossamer blanket of gauzy clouds. When traffic has, without explanation, forsaken the roads and a cyclist can sail along near the middle of the road, plenty of room on either side.

The dream came true, if only for a day. February 4, 2016 - more absurd warmth and spring-like conditions. The morphic resonant presence hums with benign complacency. It could all change in a day but for the moment of Thursday the 4th, six weeks after winter solstice with light lingering now in the sky 'til 5:00, the whole winter seems behind us.

I honestly didn't know yesterday, when I saddled up and set out, that winter would roar back to life just 8 hours later. As I slept into the wee hours this morning (which, being February 5, is also the anniversary of the onset of the infamous Blizzard of '78), light snow began to fall. By 7:00 heavy snow was falling steadily and at times with ferocity, and it kept up all morning. But that is a tale for another time.

As for yesterday, ride #6 of 2016 was an enjoyable 18.5 mile foray to the Reservoir and up South Rd and back, a ride marked by long vistas into the snow-less landscape, by dry roads, by pleasantly cool conditions for which I nailed the correct combination of tights, bibs, tops, wraps, gloves, paper bags, neck warmers, etc. Ka-ching, Kwai Chang Caine.

I opted to ride out of town via Institute Rd and the climb to Bancroft Tower. Standing and hammering the pedals with enthusiasm up the steep climb, at a point near the top I overtook a runner who then overtook me when I stopped to take the obligatory photo, and who continued right on past and up to the tower itself.

Bancroft Tower and runner, February 4, 2016

Then the plunge down the other side and through the neighborhoods -

Pine Tree Dr, Valley Hill Dr, Mabelle St, Kinnicutt St, Westbrook Rd, Richmond Ave, Aylesbury Rd, Moreland St, Walter St, Paradox Dr, Seconset St, Copperfield Rd, Grenada St, Rich St, Tory Fort Lane

- to get to Mower & Olean Sts. The dash to the reservoir and the race along the western edge at pace. Then the left onto South Rd for the familiar & beloved mile+ climb to the top in order to turn around and whir right back down. Woods bare of snow. Stone walls, gray green, recede up the wooded hillsides into vague distance. Crows crow-cackle in skeletal oaks, whimsy in their caws as if they too were happy to gambol about in such gentle weather.

I cawed them back in brotherhood. The brotherhood of Shad.

Bare woods of February 4th 2106 along the Holden reservoir

Lower Holden Reservoir, Feb 4, 2016

Dubstoevsky in European neck warmer, a gift of Scrodicus Frankfurtus
February 4, 2016