Drumlin Ramble, Ride # 94

A drumlin, according to one online dictionary, is "a long, narrow or oval, smoothly rounded hill of unstratified glacial drift." Fair enough.

There's one in nearby Lancaster at the base of George Hill Rd and across from the campus of what was once the Atlantic Union College. Called the Dexter Drumlin, the huge graceful mound swells upward like an earthen great blue whale.

The Drumlin

I like to ride by there from time to time. Any ride that takes in the Dexter Drumlin I call a Drumlin Ramble. Ride #94 on a sunny, not exactly warm, but bright Saturday afternoon was one such ramble.

Earlier in the year, maybe late April, I'd ridden the Crust over there and ridden right up to the top and, though it's a very gradual slope and doesn't appear, from the base, to be that high, from the top the view is sweeping and far. This time, though, on my road bike, I contented myself with a view from the base.

As I type this entry a day after the ride, I'm looking out on a covering of snow that came overnight. And, it's 21 degrees F outside and blustery. It may warm up some this week and rain but seeing the snow cover this morning suggests to me that I may not manage another six rides before Christmas. Nevertheless, on yesterday's Drumlin Ramble I was dressed perfectly so wasn't cold at all and didn't mind, for example, slogging into a head wind across the wind open expanse of farmland that takes you over the hill and into the town of Sterling.

The shaggy Scottish Highland cattle didn't seemed perturbed by the gusts or chill either and grazed without looking up to acknowledge my shouted "bonjour!"s.

Farm of the Scottish Highlanders

Heading Toward Sterling

The gusty wind combined with a lot of climbing (a Drumlin Ramble, like a Sholan Loop, takes me west of Lemonstar and into hill country), made for a slow average speed (just about 14 mph). About three quarters of the way through the ride, I started to get chilled; not badly, but my fingers got pretty numb. No surprise why; I checked the temperature after returning and it had fallen to 36 F.

 Ride Stats: Ride # 94, 28 miles (45 km), 14 mph, 2 hours in the saddle. 44 degrees to start and 36 degrees at ride's end.

Lemonstar to Lunenburg to Shirley, Ride # 92

Blustery. Wind rush, leaf swirl. Why is wind so much louder when it's cold out? A clear day, sun bright, sharp. A full layer day, booties to boot.

Shad Rides

It's that great time of year in New England when the afternoon light is frequently dramatic - huge pure skies with puffy pink clouds, or milky blue canopy dome of deep infinity; and the countryside awash in creamy buttery yellow sun-sink. And purple, there is always purple in there at some point.

Time after work to ride through Lunenburg and to nearby Shirley, loop through that old town with its classic New England town commons, then back to Lemonstar. At mid-afternoon there is little traffic on the roads and so the ride is pleasant. I feel good and pedal like a gazelle running (I imagine), I fly over newly paved roads with a muted whir.

Shirley Center Town Commons, Nov. 19, 2013

Lemonstar
Late Afternoon, Nov. 19, 2013

Ride Stats: Ride # 92, 21.82 miles (33 km), 15.2 mph, 83+ minutes, sunny bright day but really windy!

A Dusting in the Hills

Shad with a Dusting, November 12, 2013

And suddenly it is COLD. 34 degrees when I set out. It was probably silly to ride today, certainly unnecessary, this is the fifth consecutive day riding. I haven't managed to do that in years. But the cycling cosmos seemed to line up this weekend and today, well, I had a choice but I didn't have a choice. What I had was the afternoon off from work in advance of a late-day dentist appointment and, while it had spit rain and sleet overnight, by noon the roads were dry and there was no precipitation to be seen.

So I had to ride.

But it was cold. And gray. No real sun.

Again the paper bag in the jersey. Today, multiple layers. Long underwear leggings & tights. Booties. Full hoodie. Winter gloves with liners. Five upper body garments (+ bag). And I was warm. Truly. Completely comfortable the entire ride.

I'd questioned my decision-making upon setting out but after only a couple miles out I realized that I nailed the clothing test and I'd be fine for the duration. For a brief mad moment I considered trying to rush up Wachusett again, but thought better of it.

Turns out the rain and sleet in Lemonstar proved to be more substantial in the western hills. Not exactly an accumulation but a white shroud over everything evoked the colder, harsher days to come. Reminded me that, while the streets may be clear in the lower elevations, as soon as you start climbing into the hills west of town, even a little elevation makes a difference.

November 12, 2013 in the Western Hills

Once you develop serious momentum, once you cobble together a string of rides, once you start to achieve a level of fitness that allows for longer rides, then you can no longer control yourself. Riding becomes the paramount concern on a daily basis. Will I have time to ride? Will the weather be good for riding? Will the light last long enough for an after work ride? It becomes all about putting miles under the wheels.

Not to mention the single-mindedness born of successful weight loss. Every bite becomes considered, every meal evaluated for calories. Snacking is anathema. Losing weight becomes a competition with yourself. Beer acceptable only on riding days. Ice cream a seldom treat. Embrace of fresh greens, crispy apples, raw nuts, yogurt and berries. Being the correct weight for one's height is incredibly empowering. How did I allow myself to grow so heavy for so many years? Easy, actually. I've never had a problem eating more than I need. Gluttony was once a badge of honor.

These are different days now. These are days of physical and mental challenges. Moderation in consumption, excess in exercise. Compulsive movement. Winter threatens. I'll be off the bike for weeks at a stretch. I dread the thought of re-gaining even 5 lbs. I haven't even whispered at 150 lbs since early in September. Incredibly enough, back when overeating was routine, I thought of my "riding weight" as 160 lbs. As in, I thought I was "in shape" if I managed to get down to 160. Now? If I "balloon up" to 150, I'll be mortified.

I'll always remember reading a piece about Lance Armstrong. Someone asked him how you can be a better climber. His answer was simple: lose weight. Either body weight or bike weight or both but you'll climb better when you're lighter. I've learned that that is absolutely true. Lance didn't lie about that, at least.

The View from Ride # 88

Ride Stats: #88, 17.9 miles (28 km), 12.5 mph, 1 hour 24 minutes in the saddle. Temp approximately 33 degrees. Sholan Loop. A dusting of snow in the hills.

Last Climb up Mt. Wachusett for this Year

Summit of Mt. Wachusett, Nov. 11, 2013

Sharp, clear, cold. Veteran's Day morning, on the bike by 9:30. The weather report had indicated a sunny morning and a cloudy afternoon so it behooved me to get out early. Surprisingly mild at that early hour, low 50s. Still, I didn't take chances and stuffed a paper grocery bag between my layers. Seems a simple thing but it works remarkably well.

Destination? The summit of Mt. Wachusett. Very likely the last time this year. It used to be that I'd make the climb once, maybe twice a season. This year has been different. Once I pared away 10 lbs, then 15 lbs, then 20 lbs, climbing Wachusett became less of an epic struggle and more of a routine ride, albeit still a solid work out. In fact, the climbing required just to get to the base of the mountain is, arguably, more difficult than the actual road up from the park headquarters. At least the road to the summit is varied; there are even a few sections that level off or slope downward briefly. Getting to the mountain, though, is nearly all climbing ... and it starts even in the first neighborhood getting out of town.

It's been a great few days with plenty of riding and a surfeit of fine food at journey's end. The only dark cloud has been the news of the Scrod's crash in Frankfurt. The first-you're-alright-and-then-you're-crashing reality of cycling weighs a bit more heavily today; I try to be Zen-like mindful, though it's difficult. Like meditating, I always have to bring myself back to a place of focus; I have to consciously bring myself back to the moment in order to be IN the moment. Daydreaming while riding is desperately dangerous.

Shad Rides Near the Summit

But I made it to the top without incident, then whizzed back down (grateful for the paper bag in my jersey). The sky remained blue and the sun remained shining ... but I didn't see another cyclist.

Summit, with Berries and My Ride

Ride Stats: Ride #87. 27 miles (43 km), 13 mph, 2 hours 4 minutes in the saddle, approximately 9:30 am to 11:30 am. Mid 50s temperature.

Shad Rides, November

We're entering the dark period. The days are shorter, the light fades early on an overcast day and a rider, to keep riding, must increasingly settle for short forays stolen from wan afternoons and frigid weekend mornings.

But we're not quite there yet. In central Massachusetts, in early November, remnants of autumn remain. Classic New England landscapes, glaciated, a tumult of granite. Old worn down mountains covered in maple, oak, white pine. Orchards, dun fields, farms with leaning out buildings.

Princeton, Ma, Ride # 82, November, 2013

These are fantastic roads for cycling, they climb through forest, spill down hillsides, roll across farm land. They pass cows, rivers, ponds, village greens. Soon all the leaves will have fallen and a sense of Bruegelian peasant somberness will spill across the land.

Ascending Mt. Wachusett, November, 2013

A note about this blog. The American shad is a short tenacious fish that lives most of the year in unknown regions of the Atlantic Ocean but then rushes up freshwater rivers along the eastern seaboard to spawn. Shad do not ride bicycles.

But Shad is also a nickname, one I acquired from another piscatorially-moniker'd rider, Scrod. In New England, a scrod is another name for cod and while the rider Scrod spent plenty of time on Cape Cod, and though he and I came to know each other in western Massachusetts, he currently lives and pedals in Frankfurt, Germany. In fact, it was his blog, Ventoux Calls, about training to climb the fabled Provencal giant, that provided inspiration for this effort.

My intent is to chronicle my cycling practice for the year 2014, though I'm beginning almost two months early. Consider these first few entries a sort of wind-down of the present biking season. And a fine season it's been. Eighty-three rides to date. I managed to get out the first time on January 15 but then not again until March 16, the day I bought my first cyclocross bike, a Specialized Crux Elite.

The Crust Atop Mt. Wachusett, May, 2013

I rode the "Crust" (as a friend dubbed it) until late into May when I got out my road bike and that's taken me through to the very latest ride two days ago (Nov. 5th), a 24.95 mile late afternoon jaunt through local towns Lunenburg, Shirley, Groton, and Devens.

Final note. For variety's sake I'll define the term "cycling practice" quite broadly so that anything cycling-related that interests me, as well as personal fitness notes, health stuff, food & diet topics are all fair game for the entries ahead. Bon velo!