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.
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| Newton Hill clear of snow |
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| 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.
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| Changing station |
Then the road again.
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| Behind the Worcester Airport |
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| Rounding the end of the runway |
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| February 21, 2016 Holden Reservoir |
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| Elm Park, Woo City February 21, 2016 |
Your ride-ology is gangchaining the leafless pines, planes and parks of Woo-City oh Dub-strosity. You deserve hyphens hyphens hyphens!
ReplyDeleteSorry getting a little out of control there. Have been listening to unending loops of Nucleus and Louis Thomas. Those of us who benefitted from our experiments with psychodelia can appreciate these guys. For your up- and uncoming Rasputitsa I should create and send you a mp3 playlist of my complete Eternal Climb selections. Imagine you are out there struggling up the n-th sloggy icy climb and you hear Thomas' ululations and the torrid reeds of Nucleus.
And furthermore, I grabbed a copy of "The Alienist" off our shelf the other night. It has been there for years and I finally in a fit caused by useless compulsive surfing in the internet pulled it down and dove in. It's got a steady narrative voice in a pretty much conventional historical thriller, nothing really gripping or literary but a good read (if as I did you jump over the detailed descriptions of gruesome murders). Author is Caleb Carr and Carr has a Ginz connection - you know that? Yours, SCROD