This has been Bike-To-Work week here in Madison, but I was never able to participate -- the need to be home in a reasonably short time precluded relying on the 45- or so minute ride. So Wednesday seemed the perfect compromise -- Bike-To-Dr.-Appt-From Home. The distance was only about 8 miles, each way, Daniel was in school,and Anna would just as soon have the extra time home alone, so I did it. The day was sunny, a bit windy, and in the upper 70s. The ride began on a negative note -- as I was waiting at the first traffic light, to turn left, a car pulled alongside me and cut in very close, edging me back. The irony was that the bozo driver had a bike rack on the back, with a bike in it. I felt like explaining things to him, but opted to let it go. I was happy that the hills leading to the bike trail were easily managed. It all felt so good, so much better than driving there in a car.
The majority of the ride in was on the Southwest Bike Trail, a gradual downgrade under arcing trees, and smooth asphalt, underpasses letting me see the underside of familiar-sounding street names. The greenery around the trail is astounding, carefully cultivated gardens alternating with wild patches of every sort of weed, many of which I recalled from my childhood, though not their names. The trail was moderately busy, bikers, hikers, strollers (human and baby). Patches of scent wafted by, from blooming trees, flower gardens, and wildflowers. Birds, of course, and the usual squirrels and chipmunks dashing across the path. Even a big-eyed orange tomcat who glowered at me as I went past, no doubt interrupting his pursuit of birds or chipmunks.
I emerged onto the streets again down by the Stadium and, inter alia, Mickie's Dairy Bar. A straight shot down Regent Street found me in front of Budget Bikes, with still 20 minutes or so to kill before my appt. some three blocks away. So I wandered about, enjoying the ambience and camraderies, bought some energy goodies for my next long ride, and a small bungie to replace the frayed one on my handlebar bag. Then on to the appt., which was in a new, pseudo-old, multi-story office building of brick and stone-facade.
I had opted for regular shorts instead of the usual spandex, but because I don't currently have any panniers, I couldn't carry spare shoes, meaning I walked into the tiled lobby with my cleats clicking, the shoes making my gait a bit duck-like as I tried to moderate the wear on my cleats, my helmet tucked under my arm. But this being Madison, no one seemed to nocice.
Afterward I began rolling home, into a fairly stiff headwind, and hungry as hell (it was noonish). I contemplated healthy snacks, ranging from a turkey subway to an order of beans and rice from New Orleans Takeout, then I rationalized myself into eggs and hashbrowns at Mickies. The thinking went this way: Bicycling magazine mentioned Mickie's in their recent article about Madison as a place not be missed, and to refuel. The place was right in front of me, I'd worked off at least the equivalent calories, my cholesterol level was down enough that I could risk it, and I was hungry. Visions of the old Cecil's Cafe in Dundee welled up before my eyes, so I went for it. Any pretense of this being a rare exception was shattered when the little old waitress greeted me familiarly and asked if I wanted my "usual eggs over easy and yanks".
I emerged into the hot sunshine 20 minutes later, sated and a bit sluggish. The air seemed hot, the wind even stronger. I worked back up the trail, feeling just okay, then onto the roadway. The image of the last hill before home kept insinuating itself into my mind; I told myself it was nothing, I'd done it before, and so on. But visions of that old Traynor Iowa ride kept nagging me, where I'd downed a whole stack of pancakes and let the west wind do me in. Every push of the pedals seemed harder than it ought. But I did climb this hill, with only moderate effort, but I felt it more than I thought I should have.
Later that evening, a massive head cold hit like that same west wind, and I collapsed into bed after dinner. Only today, two days later, do I feel myself again. And, I hope, ready to ride tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment