Snowmelt

I bicycled 95 miles one hot August day in the year 2000, the farthest I have ever cycled, before or since. When my cycling buddy Mark suggested we go another five miles and "make it a century," I scoffed. Or would have scoffed, if I'd had the energy. I just wanted to go home.

On August 8, 2010, one decade later, I intend to ride a century in the Madison Centurion. Four months after my 60th birthday, seven years after a major heart attack. Why? To show that I can, I suppose. And that I'm not yet ready to go quiet into that good night.

Last night I sent in my registration money, so it's official. Now there are a few things to do. Like get my trusty steed into shape. Rocinante (Don Quixote's horse, with apologies to John Steinbeck in Travels With Charley) is a Trek 1200 road bike, about 12 years old. The bike shop says he has dry rot, so he gets new tires; I have to make due with legs I have, but have a few months to put some muscle back. His shifters are clogged, so he gets 'em cleaned out; I get to change my diet. He gets new grease and oil; I get to change my diet. I've already started back on the treadmill, and next week he comes home from the shop, and we'll hit the road again.

The ride seems doable today, as I set in my den, looking out at the snowmelt on a cool March day. I wonder how I'll feel on that hot August afternoon. Check back if you want to know.