Learning to Enjoy the Ride, One Down

Things I've been forced to part with

Today I discovered I'd been violated. Thieves cut the chain securing the gate where my bike had been stored for about a week and made off with her. Upon this discovery, I was immediately filled with rage, then sadness, and now reflection.

Rage: How can someone do such a thing, something so obviously wrong? When something is locked, it is done so for a reason, right? My bike isn't like those other abandoned bikes, she's well maintained, used frequently, a part of my life. I hope your action is met with equally unsettling and harsh reactions, that the wheels fall off at inopportune times and you are injured, you insensitive, unscrupulous f#@$(s)!

Sadness: A piece of me is now gone - my first real mountain bike with a (for me at the time) fancy shock. I bought for the bike for my birthday in 2000 ($400), at Ski Den Sports in Johnstown, PA. I remember my parents being bewildered that anyone would pay more than $100 for a bike - I've since invested more than $3500 in the two bikes I still own. I rode it a lot until I upgraded to a full-suspension bike in 2007. It came with us on our cross country trip in 2002, was the steed for innumerable rides with my brother across the mid-Atlantic and Northeast. I remember taking it to the Catskills for my (very) naive try at downhill and smelling those rim brakes melting - oh, that's right, you're not supposed to use your brakes when screaming down a mountain full bore. Silly me. I also remember how I would race that bike and beat people who powered lighter, more expensive ones - sometimes quite handedly. (Now the reverse is true, sad to say...) How I was riding that bike the summer I bet my brother, lost, and had to shave my legs. I hope that the new "owner" has an opportunity for equally fond memories, although it saddens me to think the reality is that they (a) pawned it for a fix or (b) sold it to a scrapper for a fix. It also saddens me to think that someone's life has reached a point where they need to resort to thievery for supporting their existence, in whatever form.

Reflection: My first lesson in how to protect yourself from theft, funny enough, came using a bike. When I was young, elementary/middle school, I remember wanting a really cool BMX bike. I saved my allowance for what seemed like an eternity and finally was able to buy a Stu Thompson Huffy BMX bike. It came with a plastic seat (why, I don't know, it hurt like hell but I thought I was cool) and I rode that thing like mad - and had the scrapes, cuts, bruises and scars to prove it. Well, on one camping trip, I rode the bike to the bathroom. I left it on its kickstand out side the door and when I came out, it was gone. I panicked - I still remember how my heart leapt and stomach dropped - and started to run back to the campsite. I got a few strides away and I heard my dad calling. I turned around and there he was, around the back of the bathroom, holding my bike. I ran over and he proceeded to give me a lecture about how easily and quickly stealing happens and that I should be more careful. It was a lesson I've taken to heart, and, despite a few instances over the years (when I was in college, someone stole the brakepads off my bike - you needed tools to do this!!!), has been pretty successful. I feel somewhat responsible for the theft today. I'd left the bike there for week, providing someone with ample opportunity to case the situation. I'd felt some reservation about the system for locking - it was a narrowish gauge chain easily chopped with the right tools. But this affords a new lesson, one I've already been starting to discover. Don't ride fancy bikes and secure them very well if you think it might be a while before you use it again.

I have two more bikes (how many does one really need?) and I will miss Trek Far. Since upgrading, I'd ridden you less but still enjoyed your quirks - I never could get the shifting to be just right. You'd been downcycled to an around the town commuter for the most part, although recently the taste of dirt was back under your (original) tires. Wherever you are, I hope you are well and if you do happen to make it back my way, I promise to be more diligent in your overnight accommodations.

Closing moments

as the most recent year tacked onto my time draws to a close, perhaps a moment's pause is in due order. expectations were high - they always are - and for the most part, unmet. don't get me wrong, things certainly have not been bad, but i still long for the passing of the clouds, the taming of the poles, the promise of something more. i feel now i am at a fork, one i've been at many times, but constantly wind up on the same trail. sometimes i start down the one i know i need to be on, only to cut back to the more familiar, for their is comfort in the familiar. each day is a new opportunity to start anew but for some reason we mark beginnings with particular dates of some predetermined significance. so what do i resolve to on this day of unspectacular meaning? eat better ride more smile more build confidence work less think less go with the flow plan more react less eliminate should be ok with not being ok

arrive at the destination having enjoyed the journey

just breathe

Catchin' up

Summer is in full swing. Long, hazy, but not so lazy days. Warm, crazy, not so restful nights. So a brief recap...

A few weeks ago I squeezed in my longest ride of the season late on a Sunday. I decided to put in some "road" miles and follow the Erie Canal east as far as I dare go and still get back to town with some daylight. I've been chasin' the final rays of the sun a great deal in recent times so what the hell, right?

I felt really good on the way out, stopping at Byrne Dairy in East Syracuse for a Snickers. I had two bottles of Gatorade, enough to get me through by all accounts. I cruised through the roads until jumping on the canal path in Dewitt. East must be downhill because I made good time, even on a road bike with tires at 100psi squirrelling all over stonedust and mud. Of course I passed through areas where hissing geese guarded this year's brood of goslings... but nothing to worry about, right?

I hit Canastota at around 7:30 and knew I'd need to hustle to make it back before dark. I grabbed a soda (aka caffeine fix) at a pizza shop and took in a few glimpses of downtown. Like many upstate villages, Canastota is rich with history and you can tell there is a unique story to be told underneath the rich patina covering its buildings. One hopes someday we start to revalue these places.

As I headed back east, a light mist began to fall. Not so bad. Within a mile or so, it'd changed to be a steady rain. Great. 24+ miles to go in wet clothes. Combines with the short break and small food consumption level, I was beginning to fade. Ah, none the less, it was my legs or nothing to get back so I cranked on. I turned the iPod a little louder and was more selective with my KEXP podcast selections.

All was going well, albeit slower, and the sky began to clear so I stopped for a few photos. Just after a few capturing a few images of a particularly rural locale - and it is rural in 2010, imagine what it was like in 1850... - I ran into the geese again. I thought I knew what the proper buffer of respect between man and goose was but apparently, I entered the DMZ of one particularly protective goose. In a split second, it was on top of my helmet, flapping, honking, hissing, nipping. Fortunately, webbed feet and plastic have a very low coefficient of friction and the goose slid off. By now, I was half off the bike. The goose regrouped and was on me for a second go. Same scenario. Fortunately, none of the nips were landed and it slid off onto the opposite side, between me and the bike. I'd completely dismounted now and, as it regrouped and moved in for its third assault, I raised the bike perpendicularly as my own DMZ. This confounded the attacker, still honking, flapping, nipping, and it backed off. During what lasted probably all of 30 seconds, the partner and goslings had made it safely into the canal. Attacker backed off and joined them. Heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, I checked quickly for any sign of damage to the bike and person, and decided to get the heck out of there. Unfortunately, another goose family was 20 feet away, probably laughing, and not really getting out of the way - I'd just been bested by an 8 pound goose after all... I gave the an excessively wide berth and pedaled off. I contemplated for the rest of the ride, in between shouts and claps at all the subsequent geese I came across, how to introduce the respect needed between all to common Canada geese and those of us on the trail. The most effective idea was a pellet gun, also the most likely to get one jailed. The most likely to be implemented was the air horn.

I rode on and in to the city at just before dark, and 1.1 miles short of 50. It was an interesting and rejuvenating ride.

Having been very flat after leaving work the past weekdays, I've not taken full advantage of the late nights to go riding other than last Friday. I went out to Bear Swamp with a friend and we cruised around the trails. I'd forgotten my helmet and glasses so didn't push it too hard - most of the time. The helmet, I learned, also protects against bug bites. It is also very different to ride sans brain bucket. Surprisingly "free" in a weird way. Not something I'll do given the choice otherwise, but there certainly was a different, less inhibiting feeling. My friend's luck at Bear Swamp hasn't yet proven lucky, as the last time he rode there many year's back he broke his rear hub. Same result this time.

On Sunday, I hiked at Finger Lakes National Forest with a friend from work. We explored some trails I'd never been on (for the most part) in all the other hike's I've done there. I learned that jewel weed, when submerged, presents a very interesting metallic sheen. We saw a lone cedar waxwing, a few toads, a salamander, and a very tiny frog, while hearing plenty of wood thrushes, oven birds, eastern towhees, and veerys. On our way back, we took a trip along through Montezuma Wildlife Refuge, where we saw a great blue heron and four immature turkey vultures.

Would be nice if bike rides and walks in the woods were as plentiful as work days.

Someone very wise once said...

"When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking."
- Arthur Conan Doyle

Is it worth it? [Erratics]

Of course it is. [Maybe]

Last week I took a few days off to spend time with my brother while he was passing through town on his way from CO to ME. It was great to see him, spend time with all the family together, get in some good riding and a DMB show. Leaving work for a few days was good but I paid for it for most of this week (where the question comes from) by scrambling to answer emails, address questions, and get back up to speed on everything. Monday ended with the receipt an email informing me I had improperly filled out a form that jeopardizes our organization's next year of a federal grant. Fun. Needless to say, I was not in a good place. That day, I took advantage of the late sunset (8:41pm) to defrag the craziness, and frustration, by ripping through Green Lakes. Tasted a lot of blood - av'd 10.8 mph on a loop that I usually average 6 or 7. It felt great and even contained an experience that was symbolic of the day. As I was cruising through a corner, cranking to keep the momentum going, I caught a pedal, which resulted in me getting thrown to the ground. I haven't crashed in a while so it was a bit of a shock. But instead of dwelling on how I'd f'd up, I evaluated the situation - nothing broken, just some dirt tattoos - and got back on the bike, back up to speed, and on I went. Now to extrapolate said experience to the bigger picture... that would be nice.

[Break]

At times I feel like I stand at the very edge of a raging mudflow of activity. Creating its own gravity, this frenzy of activity generates more speed, and sucks in all it touches. Like standing on the edge of a train platform as the express rushes past, the compressed air at the front blowing me off my feet. But I don't, instead I get sucked into the vacuum in its wake. I struggle to right myself, grasping for stable objects. But everything is spinning, whirling, rushing, tumbling, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always moving. Caught in some twisted crazy game of Frogger, I flail erratically grasping, dodging, treading. Sometimes I reach a ledge, a safe zone to cling to momentarily, maybe even use all my strength to pull myself out of the torrent. In this space, I reflect. Never good, but done nonetheless. The allure of the current is too great, and I will inevitably be drawn back for another escapade.

[Break]

Do you ever wonder about the nature of deja vu? I know it is the experience of feeling like you are repeating an experience of something you have only done once. But for a while now I've had a different type of experience, one I don't feel is deja vu. I don't feel like I've experienced it before in real life, but I do feel like I've dreamt that I was going through whatever situation I am in. Unfortunately, these moments typically occur when I am not in a place to stop, soak in the surroundings, but it is a weird, curious, interesting feeling. They are usually mundane activities, like filling out papers, but infrequently these have involved people I meet for the first time ever or are reconnected to after many years apart. Maybe I should start recording my dreams to see if I am really experiencing these things or am just going further and further into the deep end.

And finally, why do I share these thoughts with who ever will read about it through zeros and ones? I used to burden people around me with this by talking to them. Now we talk about the weather. Strangers, friends, loved ones, read this as a grain of sand for I am but one insignificant molecule of an infinite organism.

Memorial Day Weekend 2010

Well, the unofficial start to summer 2010 will be over in about 45 minutes. Still time for one more activity. It was an interesting, packed weekend and I didn't even get to do everything I'd planned. I know, big surprise there.

Friday was a low-key evening enjoying pizza for dinner with a friend and later some bowling at Green Lakes Lanes.

Saturday I woke up early, of course, and used the time to do laundry and run to the farmers market. I need to talk to their management about installing some bike racks because there is no dedicated place to lock up. The market was packed but I made two strategic stops - Wake Robin (yogurt) and a place out of Interlaken that sells organic free range eggs. Maybe a cheesecake is in the near future. I also cleaned my mountain bike for the first time this season, something I hope will prolong the life of some of the parts, although I am afraid most of the damage has already been done. I also put on new brake pads as the old ones were pretty smoked.

Later in the day I picked up my friend and we headed to Shindagin for the late afternoon and evening. The drive down was pretty as we took a route that meandered down between the lakes. Who knew there was a nudist colony in Moravia? Once at Shindagin, things kind of started to unravel quickly. First, my friend burned her leg on the tail pipe of my car while getting something out of the boot. We locked up the bikes and drove to Slaterville Springs to get additional supplies to my minimalist first aide kit - like disinfectant and tape. On the way, a rabbit made it's last dash, meeting it's maker via the undercarriage of my car. I felt terrible (still do) but there was no avoiding it. Once back at the trailhead, we started out for our ride. I forget what is hard to someone who hasn't ridden very much and took some more challenging trails. My friend did really well, clearing many obstacles I was not expecting but also took a few spills, one of which was particularly sketchy. I turned around just in time to see her go over the handlebars. She told me she was ok, and there were no visible signs of injury, but with my beginner biker track record, I need to be more careful in selecting, or warning, of trails and their obstacles.

We rode until about dusk, during which time my right pedal came apart, which was certainly a challenge. I wasn't able to keep my foot clipped in like last time and was concerned about impaling my leg with the pedal spindle. Fortunately, I didn't. We finished up riding around nine and ventured in to Ithaca for dinner at the Shortstop Deli, which put us back in Syracuse at 11, me at home at 11:30. Beat.

Sunday I was up early (again) and filled the water barrels at the Isabella Street community garden. By the time I finished that, it was off to the Southside to help install the Somali Bantu community garden. It is located on Oneida Street and built with donated materials from the Garden Soxx company. It was amazing to watch the community members, about half of which were teenagers, come together to build the garden. We laid out geotextile fabric and arranged pre-filled Garden Soxx into ~30' rows 2' apart. Then the community filled more Soxx, laying that out at varying row widths. One section was also "boxed" in using the Soxx and mounded up with compost and soil to grow potatoes, which I think will be an interesting experiment. The Filtrex folks also donated supplies to construct a drip irrigation system, something none of us had ever assembled. It was pretty straightforward and minus a few hiccups, we got it put together and working. I don't know what all was planted but it seemed like a lot. We went from no garden to planted irrigated Garden Soxx system in a matter of about 4 hours. Now I hope it works and generated the produce the community desires.

Sunday evening, despite my strong desire to do so, did not involve any biking. I went to another friends' house to have dinner, drink beer, and relax. Mission accomplished.

Monday I had made plans to meet up with a high school friend I haven't seen in about 15 years. We were to find each other at the Liverpool Memorial Day parade around 10. Got in my car, late of course, and it wouldn't start. Only clicking. I'd been pondering riding there and this confirmed that thought. I arrived too late for the parade but did get to see her and her family, as they waited around for me to show up. I always find it truly amazing when you haven't seen someone in a long time and you pick up as if you'd never lost touch. We all talked about what's been going on all these years. I found out she and her husband do triathlons and he's also a mountain biker. Too bad they're moving to WA at the end of June. We hope our paths will cross again before they leave, and they generously offered to help me out with my car woes.

On my way back from Liverpool, I crossed paths with two friends hoping to ride around Onondaga Lake. Not sure what route would allow them, but I hear it was a success. A quick call to Dad confirmed my suspicion that the battery had turned its last starter Sunday evening. I did some research and discovered not all batteries are created equal. After a few phone calls, I located one that the web said would fit like the OEM battery. A store two miles away had one in stock so I tied the old one onto my bike and went to pick it up. An extra 30 pounds strapped to your bike makes going downhill a bit quicker. Uphill, a different story. Standing to pedal was out of the question, as were sharp turns. The new batter was almost the right fit, a few spaces in the strap would have prevented it from getting tweaked. Started right up, though.

With a working car, I decided to take advantage of the 90 degree heat by going mountain biking at Highland Forest. I'd not been there yet this year, and was curious to see trail conditions. They were dry as a bone, with only a few seeps causing wet areas. I got very disoriented on the not always marked (or on the map) trails but had a good ride. Saw three other riders, one who helped me get my bearings. I also flatted - hope it is the only one of the season - which during the repair, I was a banquet for the local mosquito population. As I was wending my way back to the car, I flushed a ruffed grouse. It didn't really fly away, so I stopped and tried to get some pictures. It was very interested in getting back to the location I'd flushed it from, and I was able to have it walk within 5' of me. Low lighting (it was dusk and t-storms were rolling in) made pictures a challenge and it wasn't until all the fun was over that I realized I should have been recording a video. Oh well. Those t-storms on the way back helped to rinse off the bike.

Well, now the Memorial Day weekend in officially over. Tonight, late, my brother is arriving in Rochester on his way through from CO to ME. We're catching the DMB show in Darien Lake on Wednesday, and the band's been playing some old and new stuff, so we're holding high hopes for a great show. Either way, it'll be fun. Hope to get some riding in as well, although his three months at 9,000' will certainly make it immeasurably difficult for me to keep up. I also bought the new Broken Social Scene album, which was my companion for much of this weekend's solo adventure activities. I think it is pretty good.

All of the riding lately, including my April and May around town commuting, pushes me over the 200 mile mark for the season. This is well below what I hope, but on par for some of my respectable season totals. Would like to hit 1,000 again this year but the slow start is making it look not so attainable. There's the spirit...

A Weekend in B

Bikes

Bhutanese, Burmese

Baking in the broiling sun

Bitter, of the Lilac St brand

Being with friends

Bike

Blistering pace (for me)

Breaking 150

Biting bugs

Beautiful sunset

Bank

Bread

Birthday bash (for the big 3-0)

Bonnie, being cleaned and Brake lights

Being productive, even if late

Chasin' daylight

If the state is in such a budget crisis, why are trails being mowed? Shouldn't we be asked to experience nature, um, naturally?

After a few failed attempts, yesterday I got together with a friend to go riding. He hasn't been out on a bike since somewhere in the vicinity of 4-5 years, and the last time I rode with him he got a concussion, so we went easy at Green Lakes State Park. Well, sort of. There is a climb out of the double secret back entrance parking lot that is tough even when you've been riding frequently but we both survived and had a great time. Did a nice 9 mile loop, checking out one of the lakes along the way. Everyone kept rubber side down, and no minor mishaps occurred either.

Today I was up and out of the house early for the spring community garden planting. It was a bit chaotic but everything, I think, worked out. I am not sure exactly how many seedlings and seeds were planted in the garden but I know we had in excess of 120 seedlings. We even gave away ~100 buckets with pepper and tomato plants, as well as tried out planting pepper and tomatoes in this using one of these to fill them. Kind of like a wheel barrow cannon - for mulch.

Bear Swamp in late spring.

Now that we're a month away from the longest day of the year, I decided to take advantage of the late sunsets. After picking up my car, I thought of going to Highland Forest but didn't know if they would shut me out after a certain time. Instead, I meandered over to Bear Swamp where I new the only closing time I would be up against was daylight. I took a route I'd only driven once before, got a bit off-track - ending up south of the forest, but eventually made it to where I needed to be.

I suited up quickly, in light of the time and voracious mosquitos. I hadn't ridden any of the red trails this year - they're always pretty wet - but decided to give 'em a try. They were more damp than wet, which was good to see. I cooked through that trail pretty quickly and made my way over to the yellows. I was going to ride the teeter totter but someone broke it in half so I passed. I was feeling pretty decent and decided to climb up to the top of a trail that I typically skip but it has a really fun downhill so it was worth the effort. Someone was camping in their RV in one of the parking lots, probably wondering who the fool on the bike was riding by at 7:30 pm. At the halfway point, I thought I was a little behind on the light factor so I started weighing my options. I eventually realized I was feeling really well and riding the loop faster than I ever recall, so didn't ever pull the plug early.

Most of the time, it sounded like I was riding in the fall, rather than the spring, because their were a lot of fresh dead leaves on the trails. We've had a few late spring frosts, which caught some of the trees with their leaves out, damaging/killing the leaves. While I like riding through crunchy leaves because of the sound they make, I know this is probably not good for the trees.

The other thing that was really prevalent today were spider webs. Riding late in the day means the spiders are doing their thing, setting up shop for the night's feast. There are more than a few that are likely going to go hungry tonight, cursing the two wheeled bandit who disrespected their kitchen.

The climb out - or as much as you can see from the bottom.

I bombed through a few more down hills and cleaned things I typically am much more cautious about riding. It was a great ride and I felt really on, listening to a favorite KEXP podcast. I averaged 8.8mph up until the bottom of the climb out to the car, where I dropped .4 of a mile/hour. Even with the good climbing beat of this song, too little saddle time made for a pretty slow grind. This snails pace was an opportunity for the mosquitos to feast, much to my displeasure.

Back to the car just in time - the sky was pink, like the bellies of the feasting mosquitos.

A bit muddy, but not too bad for Bear Swamp.

All in all, a great couple of rides. It was good to ride with a friend, and also good to cook up some trails by myself.

Walls and training wheels

A while ago I posted about a girl I met and the affect of this experience. I began to allow myself to feel things I hadn't in a long time. Things I've sealed away behind stone walls. I am usually a grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side person but when it comes to situations where I've experienced deep wounds, and dragged others through those dark times, I have had a very difficult time coming around to see greener grass.

There have been times I've gotten caught up in the moment and stood along those walls with a chisel in hand, and started to chip away. The experience, for sure, is a rush - exciting, exhilarating - like ripping down a trail while in some alternate state zone, seeing only what you need to see while everything else blurs by in the periphery. But just like the wet root, off camber rock, or tree trunk that leans just a little too far into the trail to send me over the bars, that rush comes with risk. (I also tend to feel I write better and am more creative when in that zone, so I apologize for the less than thrilling posts as of late.) I usually choose to forego the risk and enjoy a tolerable, but predominantly mediocre, existence when it comes to these matters.

Somewhere along the line I've convinced myself that this existence is better for everyone involved. But is it? Who is this everyone? Some have said they worry about me, while others, the opposite. You always hear you'll know when the time is right. Is there some flashing sign? The last time I thought I knew but was so obviously wrong because I ignored what I so terribly didn't want to acknowledge. And in doing so, I jeopardized and strained more than anyone ever should, but have been so very fortunate in the trueness of friends and family who've seen me through more than I care to admit. This is the everyone, those who I don't want to do that to again. I've proven, I think, that I can make it through but probably not alone. However, that last sentence makes me realize I am in a mentality of setting myself up for failure from the start. Perhaps that is how one knows when one is ready. For, as Lance Armstrong's said, if you are afraid of falling off, you will never get on the bike.

As of late, I've been thinking my inability to establish anything beyond platonic relationships with women stems from my inept social skills, or that every one I meet is either married or in a serious committed relationship, or that I've been out of the game so long I don't even know where to start. While I believe all of these and other excuses I could come up with hold some validity, the larger issue is that I am afraid of falling off the bike. Weird realization for someone who evades the situation by getting on a bike. Maybe it is time to get out the training wheels again, or find a nice grassy hill where the falls won't be so bad. Small failures are opportunities to learn, right? What have I learned so far? Time to get on a bike and figure it out.

Tryin' to keep myself away from myself and me

Last time I rode, I found my shifter in disrepair upon returning to the car. Between this, and my inability to make/find the time to ride, I haven't been out on my bike in two weeks other than a few short commuting trips around town. While these rides are interesting at times - like when drivers pull out in front of you causing near misses and choice words - they are not the rejuvenating experiences I find on single track or even long road rides. I've recently been reading more about riding and came across this:

"Simply put, we ride because we love to ride. The act of riding is at once an elegantly simple and tremendously complex sensation: It is the culmination of hundreds of thoughts and emotions - escape, love of nature, exercise - and at times, the complete absence of thought and emotion, a singular focus that allows for no distraction and spares no mental or physical faculty."

This description by Mark Riedy and Joe Lindsey in The Noblest Invention sums up pretty well what riding means to me.

It is certainly my escape - from work, from my mind, from having to confront fears, from being social, from my life.

It is the place where I go to figure stuff out, even if it only makes sense for those few moments.

It is my time, when nothing else matters, the one place where I can go and not worry, and if I do, it is left behind, and only catches up when I choose to stop and let it.

It is my place of living on my edge, what ever that is at the moment, and however I choose to define it.

It is where I go to hit the reset button, to keep things in mental check.

This last bit is what is currently lacking in my state of affairs. I know this because I've recently been listening to Counting Crows' August and Everything After, a staple when I'm venturing to less than acceptable places. I know this also because one of my coworkers told me to make time for a bike ride this weekend. The closest I got was helping a friend evaluate what he needed to do to get his bike back on the trails. Good news is, not much appeared to be amiss other than some rim tape and clean chain. For now, I'll venture forward, trying to keep myself away from me.

Reacquainting with old friends

May, May, May. You must have taken a shortcut to get here so soon. Well, at least well before I thought you were going to arrive. I've always had trouble being in the moment and as of late, the moments are even more fleeting. And, oddly enough, my way of slowing down is to speed through the woods on a bike, winding between trees, over rocks and roots, and splashing through streams. Accompanying May's arrival were a few days of 70 and 80 degree temps and bright sunshine. Away we go!

Dusk setting in at Green Lakes

Friday after work I went for the first ride of the season at Green Lakes. The trails were very dry for this early in the season. Good for riding, bad for food production and the water table. A friend and I ground our way up the hill out of the parking lot and then meandered through the parks trail system to the lake. I am pretty sure we crossed a former road I've never paid attention to before but early season fatigue, yeah, that's what I'll call it, required a mid-climb rest. The things you see when you rest for a moment.

The inability for my brain to shut off brought an early rise Saturday morning. While I lament the pre-8am exit from bed, it did mean more trail time at Shindagin. I arrived to find the parking lot full and about a half dozen cars along the side of the road. I suited up and hit the yellow trails, exploring some new ones and briefly becoming disoriented. I eventually wound up at the red trails and cooked along the chair trail. I discovered an unmarked but obviously biker made trail that again took me into uncharted territory. Unlike a lot of other things, I decided to check it out. It wasn't the most exciting trail but I guess you never know until you ride it.

I rode along to some of the blue trails, and made my way to IMBA, my favorite downhill at Shindagin. As it was the first ride of the season, I tried to keep things in check but sometimes its hard to... I think I had a runner I met coming up the trail a little nervous. After this loop, where I saw what I imagine was a group from the Cornell Outing Club, I was gassed and didn't feel like eating the pizza I brought. So instead, I did what was probably one of the most foolish nutritional activities I could have - I ate two PopTarts and drank a 20 ounce Pepsi. Good for short sugar rush, bad for stomach and energy crash. The rush gave me about another hour of riding, the crash brought me to my guttural knees. Some day, both in riding and my daily activities, I will figure out how to eat, or at least practice what I already know better.

It was really great to get out for almost 30 miles of trails this weekend. I really miss riding at Shindagin, and while it is more fun to have a riding partner so you can take it up a little and not be worried that it is only you who can get you out, I kept things to a level where I was able to enjoy the trails. I kept rubber side down the whole day, and aside for a minor brush with a tree, all things were intact at the end of the ride. Well, everything except for the cover on my shifter. Not sure where that is or if I can get a new one, but I hope I don't have to buy a whole new set of shifters. This is becoming the year of the bike repair. The rebuilt pedals work great, though.

Frozen Ocean State Forest (Solo)

The lack of a functioning mountain bike and brilliant weather on Saturday was making me a bit stir crazy. I've been out in the evenings this past week and remarked to myself how incredibly perfect the conditions were for a night under the stars. So I decided Saturday, at 6pm or so, that I wasn't going to let a great evening be spent indoors. After some quick research, I settled on Frozen Ocean State Forest in Cayuga County for my night out of the city.

Being my first solo night in the woods, admittedly I had some trepidation. I arrived, after some searching, at what I figured to be the trailhead to the pond. It was late and well beyond dusk by the time I arrived and nothing ever looks quite right in the dark but I figured it was the most promising point of entry I'd seen yet. After double checking everything, I locked the car and headed down the trail. Hiking in the dark always heightens my senses - hiking by yourself in the dark, well, let's just say mine were at a level not previously experienced.

According to the DEC website, the pond was only a quarter mile along the trail. As the cacophony of spring peepers grew louder, I anticipated I was getting close. The trail split... I continued down until I crossed a stream, which I figured meant I'd gone to far. So I turned around and took the other trail as far as I could because of a downed tree. I could see, in the very faint moonlight being allowed to pass through the clouds, there was a small body of water through the trees. I was in a bit of a clearing so I figured "close enough" and set up camp. I could still hear the road but so it goes. At first I didn't want to set up the fly but the clouds and predicted rain made me forego the middle-of-the-night rain fly dance and I set it up from the outset.

Let me pause here to share a wonder of mine - bedtime bathroom respite. When I am at home, before I go to bed, I use the bathroom once and I am ready for a complete night of sleep without having to get up again. In the woods, when it is much more difficult to answer nature's call in the middle of the night, this once and done scenario is not the case - ever. Such a hassle. So after multiple answers, I finally got to sleep.

At some point I awoke to rain, which I heard along with the peepers through the ear plugs I've taken to sleeping with whenever in the woods. In the morning, I awoke to continued rain and much cooler temps. I discovered on this outing my 20 degree back is more like a 50 degree. I packed up in the rain and decided to wander around more of the forest and see what there was to see. One of the ponds on the property appears to be man made and potentially maintained by beavers. Both ponds are low, judging by the mudline around them and the visible stumps.

Not being someone who lives easily in the present, unless I am on a bike, I was eventually drawn back to the car, and the city, and the commitments I'd made for the day. The 12+ hours in a place less touched by the hands of humans was refreshing and it is likely I'll be back to the Frozen Ocean, or a place like it, over the course of the summer for a natural recharge.

Sure, blame it on the pedal

A couple of weeks ago, I went for a ride at Bear Swamp. Everything was going along great when I unclipped my left foot and, well, I was left with only the spindle in the crank. I thought I'd lost the bolt that held everything together but when I got back home and investigated, I discovered seven years of mud and water works wonders on bearings. This happened just about the half way point in the ride and at the base of a long, fairly steep climb. I warned my friend I might possibly not make it to the top of said climb in one go due to the pedal situation. "Sure, blame it on the pedal" was just the challenge I needed to complete the climb in one go. Turns out it was the downhills that presented the problem. I couldn't keep enough pressure on the pedal to hold it on the spindle securely. We finished the ride without incident (at least pedal related) and I began my quest to find a rebuild kit.

After calling a couple of the Syracuse area shops most likely to carry the kit, which, big surprise, they didn't, I went right to the source. Jim at the Geneva Bicycle Center set aside one of the kits they had and Mom picked it up for me. Have I mentioned Jim runs the greatest bike shop I know of?

Three bearings in various conditions...

Yesterday I took apart the remaining pieces and put the pedals back together with new bearings and bushings. The only piece I am missing is the rubber dust end cap (the pedals I have are so old they don't make rebuild kits for them). I am hoping to rig something up but if all else fails, there's always duct tape.

I needed this cool tool, which Dad had, in order to remove the clip holding the bearing in place.

A long way to go

This just came across my radar. Maybe something to strive for this year, a way to get Seneca Lake in the bag, although 100 miles with less than 2 months to prepare might not be feasible.

On a different note, people are always looking for interesting, new ways to locomote, even if it is a modern twist on an old design. Not sure I'd spend $4,500 on one of these but I'd try one soon than I'd try a Segway.

The Fading Aroma of Time

I understand Death is accompanied by a distinct aroma

I've been around those recently visited,

Death's cold grip just beginning to thaw,

but an odor, this smell, I cannot recall.

The smell I know precedes Death's touch

Something that mingles attic mustiness

with dank basement earthiness.

Places where the discarded or seldom used

are sent to await fate.

Will I, as time draws to an end, emit this same stink?

Will visitors humor me during their stay

Outwardly feigning their happiness for my presence

While internally decrying the experience?

When I go, I wonder how it will be?

A quick implosion?

A slow and steady grind?

Will it be from years of apathy fueled neglect?

Will those who've passed me by finally stop,

scratching their heads, saying what a shame?

Will they wrinkle their nose at the fading aroma of time?

Mt-Rd-Mt

80 degrees in April - need I say more? I took advantage of the summer-like weather to get out on the bikes as much as my early season stamina would allow these past three days. Friday I took part of the afternoon off and did some mountain biking at Bear Swamp with a friend and coworker. The trails were a bit wet, but not as bad as they could have been - there was still snow on the ground in some spots. The skunk cabbage was pushing through in some spots and there puddles were alive with early rising amphibians. I just hope it stays warm and we don't get a cold snap that will could lead to killing off those that woke up to enjoy the warm weather.

Spring time at Bear Swamp

Skunk cabbage

Saturday was another stellar day. I rode to the farmers market (no bike racks - have to talk with Ben about that...) and stocked up on local cheese, eggs, and apples. I then visited the site of the now demolished brewery that I've been photo documenting. I will get more pictures up of that soon, I hope. In the afternoon, I completed another bike ride around one of the Finger Lakes - Otisco this time. I rode clockwise around the lake after parking at the Marietta post office. There was a strong wind blowing from the south, south west that was certainly a challenge. There were a few times it pushed me out into the travel lane but fortunately there were no cars coming. After crossing the southern end of the lake, I encountered the aptly named Church Hill Road, steepest grade I've ever climbed on a road bike. I managed to make it to the top without stopping but it wasn't pretty - I was moving at a blistering 3 mph, barely enough to keep me upright. A few cars came down the hill as I was going up and I can only imagine what they were thinking. The uphill was rewarded with a nice decent on which I hit 43, the fastest I've ever gone on a bike. It was wind aided but fast enough for me. I briefly toyed with the foolish idea of trying to loop Skaneateles as well but poor nutrition, time, and the headwind made me throw in the towel after only a few miles. I made it back to the post office parking lot just as two other roadies were packing their bikes onto a MINI Clubman.

Otisco Lake looking south

As steep as it looks, or steeper

Today wasn't as warm as the past two but I am not complaining as the sun was out and it was in the 60s. I went to Fairport for Easter dinner with the family and afterward rode at Dryer Road. I've forgotten how many fun trails there are and how dry they stay. I looped some of the usual suspects but decided to try Juicy Bacon, a black diamond that I've only riden with Michael. For this early in the season - not at my sharpest of technical abilities - everything went so well I went back for seconds,,, and then thirds. I don't usually like bacon but today I couldn't get enough. Eventually I had to call it a day because the sun was setting and my drive train was screaming for some lube.

So good, I had to go back for seconds and thirds

I am pretty sore but managed just over 40 miles these past three day, split 1/3 mountain, 2/3 road. I've bested last year's April total and it is only the 4th. Could be a sign of good things to come.

In like a lamb...

March has been very kind so far. It's early days saw the melting of what many hope was winter's last punch in late February. Warm sunny days have been quite abundant, leading to my typical bout with spring fever. Despite my self-induced and self-inflicted work til I meltdown schedule as of late, I've managed to get out on the bike more than I expected. The spring ahead clock change, while it makes it more difficult to haul my butt out of bed for another round, makes it easier to get in some daylight riding time. Today, I took advantage of the extra hour of sunlight by heading out for a dusk ride at Green Lakes. I spent about 40 minutes riding out to Chittenango and back. For Christmas, I got a bright yellow jacket that I put to good use in the post sunset hour. Next time I will have to remember my lights. I've now passed my March total for last year. I am waiting to see if the "out like a lion" part of the month arrives and knocks us all back to reality.

Ramblin'

Before my brother left for Colorado, we spent a few hours ramblin' around Seneca County. We biked along roads that we've never been on; we learned to drive on; and we remember from our childhood. Despite the 50 degree temps, the snowpack from winter's last push - 20" plus in late February - kept the air chill. The southwesterly wind picked up the cold, cutting through us and making the high tempo necessary just to keep warm.

It is weird riding with someone else. As I don't do it very often, I forget that it is easier to draft (when you can hold the wheel) and not as easy to stop to take photos. It'll be a while before we ride together again so I was extremely grateful for the miles we put on Wednesday. Even though he doesn't ride as much as he used to, my brother managed on more than one occasion to ride away from me. Too much desk time and too much stress has left me more out of shape than I care to admit, something riding with him made readily apparent. We did manage to get in 32 miles but by the end, my legs felt like lead weights.

It is likely the next time we ride together will be in the thin air of the Rockies. Better start preparing now...

I recently discovered that Google maps added a bicycle route feature. Brilliant!

The First Dozen

This is going to hurt, I thought today as I clipped in for my inaugural ride of 2010. Mounds of snow strewn at the ends of the parking lot are a sharp contrast to the 50 degree weather and bright sunshine. I turned the iPod on and meltwater sprayed up as I completed my first pedal strokes.

The pain won't be a bad kind, and I longed for it in the same way one longs to repeat the high experienced on their first toke. As I wound my way through dog walkers, joggers, and rollerbladers, I felt a long winter season of tensions begin to dissipate. Like the snow succumbing to the sun, with each turn of the crank, the past few months of long work days and senseless thoughts faded away, even if for only a moment.

Cool wind became cold as I faster made my way, sensing muscles I hadn't noticed since last November. I pushed a little harder after I made it passed all the pedestrian traffic, really mashing the pedals. Form doesn't matter this early in the season and I wasn't out to break any records, just enjoy the moment and perhaps escape for a short while. I chuckled at the way the bike responded to my winter-weakened attempts to be explosive.

I've needed the solitary singular focus of a ride to sort through thoughts cycling through my head as of late. Spreading myself as thin as I have recently isn't something I should have done and the repercussions extend beyond my person. I've not had the energy nor made the time to give attention to the things that in the past I've always held in high regard. At what cost, as I've wondered before, does this come? Right now, I feel it is as high as its ever been and I don't like it. I have no idea what is going on beyond my own selfish bubble.

As I near the turn around point, I've loosened up and feel the need to escape further. In a weird way, it always takes me a while to warm up and today is no different. I pause at a crossroad and settle into the drops. There is a slight incline and I challenge myself to stay settled in until I crest. The taste of blood begins to permeate my mouth - a sure sign I am drastically out of shape - but I reach my goal and decide to spin on. I don't let up until the next crossroad and decide once safely on the other side to repeat the last ten minutes. It feels great. Thoughts and concerns are left swirling in the salt and detritus strewn about the shoulder. They'll catch up, for sure, but for these brief moments, I am in the lead.

As I wind my way back along the lakeshore, the pressures that await at home catch up. Not yet, I plead, but I know it is a request that will fall on the deaf ears of my own mind. I coast in, thankful for the first dozen miles of 2010, the ones that allowed me to reconnect with the one thing that, for now, is able to put me at ease. I know the fix is only temporary, and I shouldn't rely on it as I do, but I know no other way.

Knowing when...

Reliability fails

Music stops

Vision narrows

Darkness darkens

Steel flavors

Acrid smells

Apathetic rush

Chaotic silence

...it is time to ride.