Barney's Monday Night Ride

Gathering for Barney's Monday Night Ride

6:15 Monday evenings when the light is right and the weather cooperates. 

News Flash: Dubstoevsky hones his skills with the Woo City Strava stars of Barney's Monday Night Ride (the MNR). 

Oh yes, I've learned a thing or two with this crew; I've been schooled, and I've handed out a lesson or two as well. Peter the Headmaster taught me about the jump from behind. Frantic and Ponytail Billy have assaulted Dubstoevsky and have been left wanting. 

It's all a feverish rush for non-existent glory, a hungry thumb in the pie for plums.

From Grim to Glorious

Four rides in four days, from grim to glorious, none of the rides particularly big by DS Mawg's standards. Today's was actually the longest at 30 miles.

Saturday's outing distinguishes itself for being treacherous (the "Grim" in the title of this post), and for me for being a gampas.

[Note: "Gampas" is a made-up word that means fool or dingbat or moron. It might mean "shrimp" in Spanish.]

Here's what happened.

It was damp and overcast all week, chilly days, several of them actually rainy. Saturday arrived and seemed to promise a respite from actual precipitation, even though the morning was heavily clouded. I decided to ride. But half way down the block, the sky visibly black and ominous in the distance and a brisk wind blowing, I realized that I'd under-dressed. So back I went to Shad HQ for warmer layers including a Pearl Izumi fleece top, a long sleeve windbreaker, and full length tights.

My plan was to climb to the airport, then take Bailey Rd to Mulberry Rd which wraps around the back of the airport and descends into Cherry Valley (Bailey Rd can be busy and dangerous during the week due to contractor traffic, i.e. a lot of pick-ups, but on Saturday it's not that bad). About four miles in, I hit the airport climb, a category four, and almost immediately began to sweat. I was overdressed but there was nothing to do but climb to the top, which I did, increasingly sodden.

Low visibility on Mulberry St

Along Airport Drive I stopped and, in the thickening mist and desperate for air, took off my bright orange, high vis windbreaker ... only to realize that I was now dressed completely in black. The only remotely bright thing I had going for me was a blinking tail light. Otherwise I was, under the circumstances (bad visibility, thick cloud cover, ground mist and fog) dressed as a basic gampas, which is to say foolishly. Obviously I didn't perish nor even have a close call, but I remain chastened by having been so boneheaded.

On Sunday, Mother's Day, I managed a one hour low intensity Reservoir Loop in between Mother's Day Brunch (French Toast, bacon, 4 berry fruit salad with creme fraiche, pear cider 2.5% alcohol, Presecco) and Greek Tapas dinner (lamb sausage, platters of bread and dips, fried smelts, chicken kebabs).

Waiting for the Monday Night Ride to get underway
Barney's Bike Shop, May 9, 2016

19 guys showed up for the Monday night ride with Barney's crew. It was a spirited ride, though tame in the early goings up Mill St. I rode with the advanced guys but, as usually happens because I'm still learning this game, I ended up getting schooled at various points along the way. I'm still basically a "new guy" among the regulars, many of whom have been riding together at this and other local group rides for years, and they know the nuances and the points of attack on this ride, whereas I don't yet.

Case in point, I was among a train of 7 guys out in front and racing along the reservoir, heading for two climbs (a short one followed by, after a little level ground and a small decent, a much steeper and longer one). Frantic Frank was among us and, as seems to happen too frequently between me and Frantic, he blocked my way forward on a climb. Hitting the first, smaller hill, Frantic, directly in front of me, mis-shifted and momentarily lost his momentum. That forced me to brake and lose my own momentum.

Frustrated, I put the hammer down, veered around him and around the phalanx of five others directly ahead, and shot up the hill like an angry moth. No one gave chase. Flutter flutter. Until after the level-off and the slight downhill right before the Big Hill - then one, then another, then all six had passed me, Frantic included. I gave game chase but couldn't catch anyone's wheel and labored up the climb 30 yards and more in arrears.

The lesson I learned is not to react in frustration. The point I proved in topping the small hill first was quickly negated by losing any chance at the Real Prize, the Big Fucking Climb, a climb that is actually kind of ideal for me and which I should own. I just need to learn patience. Unfortunately, this Monday night I had none and I blew my engine on the Small Pagoda. OM.

Alta Vista Farm, Rutland, Ma
May 10, 2016

Today's solo jaunt out to Rutland and the Prescott St/Hillside Rd/Emerald Rd/Causeway St loop, was utterly beautiful (the Glorious of the title). Finally, a warm, sunny May day, almost 70 degrees, though still remarkably dry, there's very little moisture in the air so it always feels just a little bit cooler than the actual temperature. I wore 3/4 tights, two shirts, and a paper bag between the shirts. Perfect. But not yet Early Summer.

The end of today's ride was excellent. I decided to do the climb to Bancroft Tower. As I rounded the corner on the last steep uphill part, I saw two guys walking up ahead. It was clear that we'd all reach the top at the same time, which we did.

Bancroft Tower May 10, 2016

"Hello!" I said, greeting the one who'd seen me at the last minute and turned toward me. The other guy hadn't heard me and turned around with a surprised, but smiling, look on his face. I don't think either of them spoke English and I don't know what nationality they were but we interacted warmly.

The first guy pointed down the hill we'd both just come up and said something that I took to mean "You just rode up that fucking hill?? Praises unto you!"

I smiled broadly, nodding my head, and gave him a fist bump that he happily returned. So did his smiling friend.

Double Flat and the Transition from Summer to Brrrrr

The inevitable transformation from summer to fall is underway and scenes like the one on Tuttle Rd from a September 27 ride from Woo City to Lemonstar may be done for the year.

Tuttle Rd, Princeton hills, September 27, 2015

The afternoon light fades quickly and now, just three days into October, the day is wet, overcast, blustery and raw, 55 degrees. No ride for me today. And only one this week, though it was almost two.

Unfortunately, on what was going to be my last Monday night ride of the season with the Barney Crew, I double flatted just 5 miles into it. Which really sucked because the previous week there'd been only six guys (me included) and we'd had an excellent ride, strong and fast. I was on form and rode well, once again surging up South Rd and beating everyone to the top, then holding my own the rest of the way.

Hitting the Reservoir at speed
September 21, 2015

So flatting out and having to call Shad HQs for a ride home was a dispiriting way to end the season with the crew.

I have had more flats in the last two months than I've had in all my years of cycling. I attribute it to the crappy, low end Continental tires I bought mid-summer. Four flats have resulted from the tiniest shard of glass penetrating the tire's thin rubber skin. In the case of Monday night's double-fuck, the glass shard wasn't found by Peter the bike store owner who, for the sake of speed, changed my tire for me. He ran his finger several times around the inside of the tire before replacing the tube and felt nothing.  But once we set out, within 5 minutes I was flat again. At that point, I insisted the other 4 guys leave me behind and finish the ride. Which they did.

Only the next day, changing the tube again, did I find the minuscule glass piece stuck in the outer flesh of the tire. Only with pressure on it would it poke through to the tube. I vowed never to buy cheap tires again.

Tire changed, Tuesday afternoon the 29th offered one more sweet day of Indian Summer warmth and I took advantage of it to re-visit the ride I abandoned the night before. Oh, and I actually took the crappy tire off the rear wheel (all four flats have been rear tires) and replaced it with the used high end Conti that had been my front tire which was not terribly worn but which I'd replaced (foolishly, it turns out) with the aforementioned lousy low end option.

The ride turned out to be a sweet one, uneventful, no flats, plenty of sun, I felt strong and ripped it up for a twenty mile loop, capping it off with an assault on good old Bancroft Tower.

Bancroft Tower, September 29, 2015

A few final thoughts on the Monday night crew. During the peak of summer riding season the group can get pretty big, 20 to 30 people of varying ability, and the vibe is pretty much every rider for himself. Not a lot of camaraderie. If you don't make it through an intersection, no one waits. If you have a mechanical, you're on your own.

So when I flatted last Monday, I had no expectations that anyone would wait. In fact, we were six of us flying along, me at the end of the train, and when I knew I had a flat, I called out instinctively "Yo! I flatted out!" Everyone sat up, slowed, then turned around and rode back to me.

Surprised and grateful but also not wanting to be a drag, I said to everyone "I'm good, I'll take care of it, no need to wait for me, get on with the ride while it's still light." But they ignored that.

Instead, Peter got off his bike and, as mentioned, set to changing my tire with a bike mechanic's speed. Someone else handed me their pump (much better than my own) and, while I struggled to inflate the tire, another guy came over and helped support the rim while I pumped away.

Maybe it was the fact that we were just six people and it would have been overtly cold to simply abandon me. Maybe, given the spirited rides the previous two weeks in which I'd been a pivotal challenger and a lead out man, they wanted to keep me around for the competition. Or maybe they were all just empathetic cyclists who wouldn't leave one of their own stranded.

So despite having such bad luck on almost certainly the last Monday night ride of the season, I actually felt quite touched by the generosity of spirit showed by each guy. In fact, Peter even left me his spare tube after my second flat in the event I couldn't reach anyone at HQ and had to try to change it again.

Parting Shots

The canal alongside the parking lot of the bike shop

The parking lot behind Barney's where we gather before the ride

Postscript

I stopped by the bike shop the next day on my ride out of town and returned the unused tube that Peter had left with me. I told him I doubted I'd be along the next week given how dark it is now when the ride ends. He said that he might organize a Monday evening "City ride" which, apparently, is a similar group ride but one that traverses city neighborhoods rather than heading out to the dark forested roads around the reservoir. The city streets are more or less lit enough to ride on after dark, particularly as most riders have lights.

So, though the reservoir group ride is over (at least for me) until next year, I would definitely take part in a Monday evening city ride until it becomes too cold. I hope this comes to pass because there is actually a lot of good riding through the neighborhoods, and plenty of climbing to boot.

Getting it Done

Rode with the Barney's Monday night guys tonight. The group has diminished since I last rode with them on the last evening of August two weeks ago. Not only have the numbers diminished but so has the light. Autumn is nigh. Tonight's ride ended in long shadow dusk.

Because of a bridge project at the far end of the Reservoir, the Monday night course has changed. We now go up South Rd, a mile long climb that I absolutely love (mentioned frequently on other posts). A couple guys sorta' groaned when told we were ascending that tonight, but I secretly rejoiced.

I hadn't ridden in a week but I felt good tonight. We were about 11 guys in all and I could tell right away I was stronger than four of them. We started at a mellow pace and unlike rides passed, I hung back and sheltered myself from the strong breeze, not expending much energy. Once we passed through Tatnuck and hit Mower St and the run up to the Reservoir, however, that strategy changed. I knew I had to be in the inevitable break that always happens at this point, so I leaped past a couple riders and grabbed the wheel of the last guy in the break.

I was rider #4 in a small pod with one guy about 50 yards ahead of us. My group was moving about 19 mph. The road to the reservoir climbs steadily upward at a very gradual grade; then it upticks a bit and there's a short and marginally steep incline before the road levels out for the long run along the waterside. This section always proves challenging to the bigger guys, and I knew that.

When my group hit the base, I powered to the front and hammered into the climb. The 50 yard leader was no longer 50 yards; he was more like 15 yards and slowing. I caught him at the top, pulling the rest of the guys with me, and we hit the level section of (freshly-paved) road and flew on. I pulled aside, having caught the leader and hauled the train of three up the climb, and settled into a comfortable tuck at the rear. We rolled along at 22 mph.

Then came South Rd. I was chilling at the back with a guy named Frank when we all hit the beginning of the climb. I felt strong. Within seconds, everyone started shifting into their climbing gears and the pace dropped quickly. I saw my chance and launched an attack. Once clear, I shifted down one gear and focused on my pedaling. Full commit. Every muscle fiber pulling, heaving, hauling, hammering, roaring around and around in a steady cadence of certainty. I wasn't cracking and I knew it. I knew I could keep a steadily high pace by employing a high cadence, and I did. Only Frank stayed with me, hanging on my wheel as we raced up.

Then Frank was alongside me. He wanted to pass me and was doing so when a rare car emerged from ahead and he had to pull in behind me to allow it to pass. Undaunted, he pulled out again, then pulled a wheel ahead of me.

Normally, at this point, having expended considerable energy already, I would have faltered. Maybe it was the week off, I don't know, but I channeled my whole attention into my pedal stroke summoning an aggressive increase in cadence and right away I was parallel with Frank. Then I edged past him. Then I kicked again. And was gone.

I know the South Rd climb well and I knew what remained ahead - a quasi-steep incline, a leveling, then one final 300 yard 4% grade to the top - so I put my head down and focused on turning the pedals as hard as I could. I cranked and grimaced with singular purpose. I didn't look back.

Then I did and I topped the hill about 5 yards ahead of Frank. The two of us had buried the rest. We got to the T intersection with rt 31, the re-grouping point, and stopped. We complimented each other on the spirited go of it.

And that wasn't all the fireworks I initiated. I actually attacked repeatedly the rest of the way. Only once was I out-dueled, and that was by Peter, the "Barney" of "Barney's Crew." Coming off the Bailey St  climb onto Salisbury St, there are several stretches of super fast downhill. If you play it right and are third or fourth or fifth going down the first real descent, you can generally surge by the front guys when the road levels out and starts the short climb out the other side. The road then levels and goes for another mile or so until the second point at which the ride stops to re-group.

Tonight I shot out from the fourth or fifth position at that strategic incline point and buried the guys who'd lead the flight down. I was running clear until suddenly there was Peter, standing up and cranking it out in his big gear. He flew by me. I doubled down and gave chase and keeping it steady and somehow not blowing a gasket, I caught back up to him. He pulled aside to let me pull ahead and lead.

"A respectful thing to do," I naively thought, as I tucked in and spun with new-found power. Then a whir and a flash and Peter shot passed me and quickly gained a big gap. I tried to pick up my already high pace, and did so to a minor extent, but knew I wouldn't catch him before the re-group stop, a quarter mile or so up the road. He got there about 30 yards ahead of me.

But I had been right there, in contact, and the two of us had left everyone else behind.

Dubstoevksy and the Church of Shad

Back on the Paved Roads

The D2R2 is always a welcomed event at the end of the summer, a chance to get off the pavement and into rougher terrain. And yet the abrupt transition from pavement to gravel, including the shift to a slightly heavier bike (in my case, the Crux Elite cyclocross rig vs the now-well-used-but-still-dependable Allez Comp racing bike), is always a little challenging.

But it's only for one day because while the D2R2 sort of marks the end of summer, it also serves as the harbinger of autumn - and autumn road riding with its cooler temperatures (generally) and incipient psychedelic foliage is ever a joy. Since the D2R2 10 days ago, I've returned to the tarmac and enjoyed several rides, including a spirited Monday night ramble with the Barney's Bikes guys last night (August 31).

Indeed, yesterday was hot and that may have limited the number of riders on the evening group ride; earlier this summer there'd been upwards of two dozen and more but last night we were probably around 15 in number. Not having ridden in a few days, I was fresh and eager to get the blood pumping and the heart firing. That I did.

Regardless of how I'm feeling, I try to stay toward the front of these rides, try to keep up with the better, stronger, younger riders (of which more than half the group usually fits that description). On good days, I'm right there with them; on off nights, I labor mightily but get dropped.

Last night, I jumped away with three other guys on the uphill run to the reservoir, even managing to hold the wheel of the first place guy as we hammered up the slight but considerable incline to the beginning of the long freshly-paved shoreline wrap-around. My advantage, if I have one, is climbing. Smaller than most of the other guys, I can generally keep a steady pace on the climbs, even if it's not super fast, while other guys labor and lose momentum. But in the flats, particularly on long, moderately rolling runs, I cannot generate the necessary power to hang with the powerhouses.

As was the case last night. After my (self)-impressive wheel-shadowing up to the reservoir, our foursome revved up and, despite my best effort, fairly quickly became a threesome. I brought up the rear about thirty yards behind.

Pulling away from Dubstoevsky

I enjoy the Monday night group rides, though I haven't really bonded with anyone other than Peter, the organizer and the owner of Barney's. Thankfully, the competitive spirit seems to be all in good fun, no one taking themselves too seriously, so you can challenge each other and not have the testosterone flare into an angry thing. Just a chance to test yourself against others.

Plus, I push myself harder when riding with others. Not that my solo rides are easy or that I cop a lazy attitude toward them - it's just that there's something about trying to hold the wheel of someone storming uphill at 16 or 17 mphs that pushes the body to give the extra oomph and thrust. It's a healthy thing.

In addition to last night's ride, I've done three other solo jaunts since the D2R2, two of which included the Cat 4 Worcester Airport climb (another stretch of sweet new tarmac, black and smooth and flawless).

Nearing the top of the Airport Climb

It's been a pretty dry summer, perfect days for cycling but not so perfect for the water supply. Here are a couple shots of one of the Kettle Brook Reservoirs, taken August 27th.

Kettle Brook, looking north

Same reservoir, looking south

The Holden Reservoir isn't quite as low. I snapped the following pictures last night as I trailed after the leading three.

Holden Reservoir, Monday night August 31

Holden Reservoir, looking south

A Stretch of Summer Riding

Bancroft Tower, August 8, 2015

A good stretch of riding just past. Bancroft Tower visits, a racing fast Monday ride with the Barney's Crew, me innocuous and unaligned and happy to ride for myself in the break away. A one way ride from Harvard to Worcester, the point of launch being Carlson's Orchards, a venerable producer of peaches, nectarines, and apples. Big sun, big puffy clouds, big blue radiant New England skies, back roads bounded by stone walls. Long climbs with the new gearing. Explorations, missed turns, meandering afield in Rutland, Sterling, Princeton, Lancaster, category 3 and category 4 climbs.

Dexter Drumlin, Lancaster, MA
August 8, 2015

But what of the compact 50/34? For inconsequential starters, this Ultegra set-up is noisy when coasting, it produces a whirring spinnicky-clicking sound that, at speeds, sounds like a host of meth-fueled cicadas going off under my seat. The pronounced drone makes listening to other errant noises that the bike might make difficult to hear so that audio troubleshooting might prove challenging. But the important thing is how it performs. And that, I'm happy to report, is excellent.

The second lowest gear (i.e., 2nd easiest to peddle) is now what my lowest gear was before. That's good as I can now get out of the saddle and hammer in that gear and still have a fallback option. However, the lowest gear is almost powerless. It's so easy to turn over that I find myself pumping staccato-style, jabbering almost, like someone stuttering, firing up and down rapidly but ineffectively. Except on the steepest grades. Then that low gear shines.

Mason Rd, Princeton
Aug 8, 2015

Yesterday's ride with the Monday night group was uplifting. I'd gone there tired and a couple weeks removed from the last time I rode with them when I did not acquit myself well (missed the break away that night and then dogged it on the hills, as I recall). But last night went much better. I rode 4+ miles (including a climb to Bancroft Tower) before getting to the ride rendezvous so I was warmed up. Then I made sure I stayed in contact with the front.

Racing along the newly paved section of Reservoir Rd at 22+ mph, we were a speeding train of ten or so guys. I didn't go near the front. I hung at the rear, alternately last or second to last, until we hit the climb. The group hammered onto the slope, as did I, feeling pretty good. But I had miscalculated. With the new compact gearing I'd figured that I'd be able to out climb guys but when I dropped to the lowest gear, I sacrificed momentum for ease of pedaling. That proved costly as I was only able to pass two guys; the rest of the group powered off ahead of me as I thrashed myself upwards, panting.

That's the good thing about the group ride versus the normal solo ride - you get to test yourself against stronger, better, and more experienced riders than yourself. And the competition is earnest but friendly; no one's a dick. There's nothing at stake, not even bragging rights. You're riding solely to test yourself.

I also did a short ride in town Sunday morning, August 9th. With plans for hiking later in the day, I opted just to get out on the quiet city streets for some local hill climbing. Green Hill Park, for example, George Street, Bancroft Tower. All good climbs. A beautiful morning. Very little traffic.

Main St, Woo City, Aug 9, 2015

Crossing Highland Ave Sunday Morning

Dubstoevsky at Bancroft Tower
Sunday, Aug 9, 2015

Four Days in a Week: May 11- May 16

It's been quite a week. Perfect weather, four rides, the reverence of motion and the meditation of spin.

Steal Your Dubstoevsky

Today, for example. A slightly humid but overcast Saturday, dull sun glare filtering through the grayish blanket. Almost 70 degrees, but still cool, the perfect temperature. All afternoon available. Opt for a dash to Princeton, a revisit to Mason Rd, to River Rd. in Holden, and an exploration of Ball Hill Rd, Jefferson Rd, & Princeton Rd. (never ridden upon before today), beautiful pastorals, the rural Idyll.

Jefferson Rd and the beginning of
a run of hoary maples lining the way

I almost didn't ride today, was up late last night, questioned my motivation when the time came, then saddled up and rode BIG.

I am concentrating on my pedaling these days, trying to be more uniform, more aware of the muscle groups being put to the test, trying to sync the Whole Stroke into a continuous 360 rotation of power. I can't maintain it for an entire ride but I can turn it on as need be.

Take Monday night. I rode with the Barney's crew again. This time I acquitted myself much better than two weeks prior. This time I hung with the fast group. In fact, I engaged in great duels along the way, heart-pumping, spirited racing, the rush to stay attached, then to climb ahead, to force the pace, to FLY. The usual route, but I averaged 16+ mph, a reputable speed given the terrain.

On Tuesday I rode again, and Thursday yet again. Honest 20+ mile rambles, solo afternoons. Beautiful stretches of empty roads, forest on both sides, sun-dappled tarmac, cars few and far between. There's been no rain for weeks but the foliage persists in its lime green emergence and the landscape is abloom and awash in the Freshness. New growth. New England landscape glory, the rolling terrain, the stone walls, the hardwoods.

Lemony burst of South Rd

Spring Shad, South Rd
May 12, 2015

South Rd, and the New England moment

Today, I discovered new roads. Went back to Mason Rd then up the long climb to Princeton center but instead of dropping back south on rt. 31 I headed west on rt. 62 until I came to Ball Hill Rd, which I turned left onto, and then enjoyed a glorious stretch of empty rural wonder. In fact, for many miles at a time this afternoon, no cars passed. Just me and the landscape and the birds - red-wing blackbirds, robins, cardinals, catbirds, doves, a cowbird, finches & sparrows unidentified.

And I saved a snake! So far this year, road kill has included a plump ground hog, a turtle, several chipmunks, and a gangley heron. Today, I almost ran over a tiny milk snake, I'm surprised I even saw it but I did as I flashed passed, so I turned around to see if it really was alive. It was, and I herded it off the warm tarmac and into the dull leaf mass shoulder, to safety.

Herding the milk snake

The snake lives!

To safety

The beauty of today's ride was its meander, its newness, its length. 43 miles. Put me over 100 miles on the week, certainly the most prolific six day run I've had since last autumn, 2014. And I feel pretty good, like I'm just coming into form. In fact, by the end of the week, I'd dropped more than five lbs, I dipped below 154 lbs for the first time this year. That's still four lbs above optimum riding weight but it's not yet June. I am on pace for being in peak condition for the D2R2.

Tarmac shadow splash

Of course, of four rides, two climbed up to Bancroft Tower, the long, grinding slog to its base a rite of getting-out-of-town passage now.

May 12, 2015

May 16, 2015

Summary: A week of perfect weather, four rides: 16.4 (Barney's group ride, Monday), 20.5 (Tuesday), 23.6 (Thursday), 43.1 today (Saturday, May 16th). With the super niceness.

Parting Shots

Northern end of Holden Reservoir
May 14, 2015

Spring! May 16, 2015

Way the fuck out there

And if anyone has the inclination, listen to The Eleven from July 7, 1969.

Perfect Days

We are enjoying a run of perfect weather days, lots of sun and warmth and no wind worth mentioning. The glory of spring! Everyday in the 70s, moderate to low humidity, a cyclist's joy. And how quickly riding in shorts and a short-sleeve jersey has come to feel normal again. As if the whole wrath of winter had never occurred. Incredible.

And along with the sun and warmth have come flowering bushes and trees, the emergence of foliage, all the trees aura'd in pale lime, a color that couldn't be fresher nor suggest ALIVE any more aptly. And yet the trees are not yet fully leafed so while spinning along the hardwood forest roads in Holden and Princeton, you can still see clearly into the woods, still see the graying stone walls running nobly into the hilly and tree-trunked distance.

Almost two weeks ago now (April 27), I road with the crew from Barney's Bikes on their Monday night ride. Among the riders (14 in all) was a scrum of fast guys that I did my best to keep pace with. I did for a while but once we reached the reservoir, try as I did to hang onto the wheel of the last guy, the eight or so guys ahead kept the pace at around 19 mph and I dropped off the back.

Monday night speedsters

Whirring by the reservoir, in vain pursuit

That chilly, darkening Monday night was the last ride with tights and long sleeves. Since then the earth has apparently shifted, the juncos have flown north, and the happy days of spring riding have arrived.

I followed up this past Sunday's spirited and lengthy sojourn to the Mountaintop with a reasonably fast-paced 20 mile Reservoir Loop on Tuesday (May 5) (a ride not captured by Strava as I had technical difficulties with my tracking device). Managed 15 mph solo, but that's easier to do when there's no wind and when you're clad in minimal attire. Still, given the hilly nature of that loop, I was pleased.

Today's ride was logged on Strava, and a fine ride it was. More irie weather, hot even. Unlike the previous two full-sun rides, today I lathered on the sun screen before setting out. Smart. Yet riding directly into the sun for much of the day was challenging at times and before long my exposed pink forearms gleamed with greasy sweat. Still, like Harry Crosby in his sun-worshipping mania, I welcomed the solar intensity. It's far too early in the spring/summer season to complain about the heat.

One thing that doesn't change is getting out of town. Though there are various ways of exiting the Woo, almost all of them entail some semblance of this:

Intersection of Pleasant and Park

Then there are the west side neighborhoods to traverse. They're reasonably traffic-free, generally quiet and, these days, just beginning to leaf over. They all look something like this:

In the Thickly Settled

One can never be too careful and must keep a wary eye on everything, 360 degrees, the full circle of awareness.

Dubstoevsky; ever wary, ever alert to danger

Finally, after generous energy expenditures, you get out of the city limits, into Holden or Princeton or Paxton, and you're in the hills and the forests, and some roads are better and safer than others, some are narrow and cracked and dangerous, and many are sweet and mostly empty of cars and it is on these streets, whether hilly or flat, curvy or straight, that you can let you mind roam and contemplate the Immensity of Everything, and your own minuscule place in it all.

Mason Rd. and the onset of spring

Today: 35 miles, 15.3 mph, 2000 ft of climbing, allez!

Rides 76 & 77: Hard to Keep Up With It All

I'm finding it increasingly hard to do it all - ride, blog, live, change houses, work, create. Time is finite while enthusiasm and curiosity is limitless! They clash and something must give, the wave particles flutter, the planet spin according to the laws of nature while the Dub thumps the dub-o-sphere with bass reverberations until the sun sets and riding safely evaporates.

Ride 76. Monday, September 22. Barney's Crew. A few guys (maybe have the group of 15) get caught at a red light. I alert Pete the organizer (I'm not sure of the etiquette - do we wait? or go on?). He says on this ride everyone's responsible for themselves and no one waits. If you get caught behind, well, the route is the same every week and everyone knows which way to go so no, no need to wait up. Instead, we blast forward. Ironically, or perhaps karmically, as we race through the last stretch of neighborhood on the way home, darkness at 6:53 settling in around us (a good thing we all have tail lights, some with head lights), Pete gets a flat tire! And though several of us offer to wait and help, Pete, perhaps recognizing the irony of not waiting earlier in the ride, tells us all to go ahead. And we do.

But it's so dark by the time I get back to my neighborhood, I'm like a shadow darting through the gloaming under the huge beeches and sweet gum trees; I decide that this is the last Monday night right for me this season.

Barney's, the departure in long shadows

Back to Park and Highland well after dusk

Unintended art, or perhaps
the subconscious made manifest

Ride Summary: 15.8 miles, 15.4 mph. Hoofing it. Strava.

Ride 77, Tuesday, September 23. Less than 24 hours later, Tuesday afternoon, another gorgeous early autumn afternoon, I can't NOT ride so saddle up and head out for a reservoir loop even though I'm tired and perhaps not fully recovered from last night's right. But I also want to re-do the Barney's loop (with a slight variation) so that I know the return sections - riding in a group the last three times I haven't paid close attention to where we actually were and which road to turn onto and into the neighborhood that leads back to Elm Park.

It all goes well, albeit with not quite the same urgency and speed as the group ride.

I take in the Holden Reservoir (sort of the de facto route to most loops out this way) but then coming back instead of actually jumping off into the neighborhood wind-about, I stay the course a little longer down Salisbury St toward Park Ave and duck into a different section of neighborhood and find myself heading up to Bancroft Tower in Salisbury Park, an interesting Woo City landmark that one can imagine has hosted hundreds of teen-age parties over the decades. Turns out that George Bancroft was a scholar and a eulogist at Abraham Lincoln's funeral and the tower erected in his honor stands proudly today and, amazingly enough, doesn't appear to have been defaced in the century+ that it's been there.

Bancroft Tower

Dubstoevsky at the tower

Nope, not Scotland; Woo City

The commemoration

Ride Summary: 18 miles, 14.4 mph. Not fast, but fun.