cycling


30
Sep 24

Who needs focus?

As we wrap up September we’re always really gearing up for October. By the end of this month, the only thing there is to miss is summer, but you have to give that up eventually anyway, so you may as well look ahead. Indeed, this evening, I spun around the front porch sign. The “Hello Summer” side is hidden. The much more nuanced “Welcome” is now on display.

To see that sign you have to walk between two oversized shrub trees. And in that greenery there live some artists. I am hesitant to ask them to leave, because they do some beautiful work.

And they keep the bugs at a manageable level. Or at least they’re supposed to. Who knows. Right now it’s gnat season and the arachnid artists must surely be either full or overwhelmed.

I got in 85 miles on the bike this weekend, and I’ve also realized this weekend that I’m behind on sharing these incredibly high value videos I’ve shot recently. Here’s one that, I think, you haven’t seen yet. I was on a new-to=me road, open fields on either side, and these birds were relaxing on a power line. At least until I went by. The road ended in a T-intersection with a busier road, so I just doubled back. The birds had just enough time to re-settle, until …

  

The good news, I guess, is that I have several videos to use here in the next several days.

Here’s a road I rode down today.

When I got to the end of that road I turned to the right, and that new road sent me right across this picturesque view.

From there it was more woods, and then back into the farmland. The evidence of people wrapping up another season’s work. This farmer has five of these little trailers parked on the edge of this field, a little non-moving parade.

I had a quick meeting on campus this evening. I made it in time, but then couldn’t find a parking space — a problem on campuses everywhere since cars were allowed on campus. When that was over, and I headed home, I ran across this great big tractor.

It was of such a great size that I couldn’t even get what it was hauling. This, on a U.S. highway. Because there are fields down that road that need to be worked, too.

He must have driven down that road a good way. There’s nothing but the university, suburbs and a wildlife management area over the next several miles. I wonder if he’s got a good horn on board.

That’s how we’ll wrap up September. Sixty-five photos, five videos, four weeks of classes, nine swims and 19 bike rides and one day trip out of town. And probably some other stuff, because none of that seems like a lot. We’ll have to work on that for next month.

You know what next month brings, right? Right? If you don’t know, watch this space.


26
Sep 24

I also wrote something for somewhere else

This has been the strangest week. It has disappeared I know not where. Even as I make an accounting of what I’ve done, and not done, each day, there are big blocks of time that seemed to have evaporated. When I look back upon it, this will be a frustrating week, as it has been mysterious and strange. More could have gotten done, but that would have required … I don’t know what it would have required. Like I said, it has been a mystery.

I did write this, this week.

It was 4th and 4 and the quarterback was scrambling for a red zone first down. His team was down three scores, but Tua Tagovailoa was trying to keep his Dolphins in the game. Tagovailoa’s collision with Buffalo’s Damar Hamlin knocked him out of the game, and perhaps changed his team’s fortunes. Tagovailoa was diagnosed with his third confirmed concussion.

Sports fans who aren’t neuroscientists saw that awkward posture of his arms and fingers, commonly called fencing, and knew he wasn’t well. His doctors would use that fencing response as one part of their diagnosis. Fencing, if you’ll allow a simplistic medical explanation, is a reaction that occurs when a blow impacts the brainstem.

Later, the piece gets into Kylen Granson’s Guardian Cap, and a hot-off-the-presses survey of retired NFL football players that has some powerful implications.

I might write a lot there, if I can think of enough things to write about.

This evening I settled on a nice new 10-mile loop of roads I ride all the time. But two circuits makes … wait a minute … I’ve got enough toes for this … 20 miles.

You pass some horses on that circuit.

  

And if you do the 20 mile version you pass them a second time.

They also don’t know where this week has gone.


25
Sep 24

Just needs more

I’ve neglected to mention this here, I think, but I have the good fortune to work with a group taking an active role in cycling safety. It’s exciting watching these signs, and their message, pop up around town. It’s just one element of a long, long term project, but awareness and education are critically important.

The people doing this work are motivated for their own safety and their mindfulness of other cyclists. They’ve got the ear of the community, and the local state lawmakers.It’s impressive, and I hope the group can keep their momentum going.

Here, the state law requires motorists to move over a lane, or to allow for at least four feet to safely pass cyclists (and other non-motorists). Four whole feet!

Do you know the laws about safely passing cyclists in your state? You can look them up right here, and I’ll thank you for saving lives every time you drive.

We went to campus today and it’s a miracle we made it at all because I kept slowing us down, somehow. It got to that not-quite-comedy-of-errors level, culminating in finding zero parking in several consecutive walks. But we made it. And then we went for a swim.

It was my first indoor swim in a long time. There were lane ropes and lifeguards and chlorine and everything. Also, there was the mystery of when I would slip into the rhythm of swimming back and forth, back and forth. It finally happened, I’m not sure where I was in the swim. But I know where I was when I got pulled from the pool. The lap swim was over, some other people were wandering in and doing some organized looking stretching and warming up.

I said, “Do I have enough time to do 50 more?” But I was told I did not. And so I finished with a slow version of my 1,700 yards.

But, man, you never really know how useful that extra 50 could have been. It could have really made the difference!

After that we meant to a meeting in our department. There was food, and there was work. A handful of the faculty members were working on some important department-type language. On the third or fourth run through someone tossed a joke my way, being the newbie and all. I said, “Hey, you want to get all caught up in details, you’ve invited the right guy.”

Ultimately, the work got done. Everyone seemed pleased by it. I got a phrase or two into the finished product, phrases I may forget, so I’ll just point to all of them. I was just happy to be there.

We return once again to We Learn Wednesdays, the feature which finds me riding my bike around the county, hunting for historical markers. This is the 49th installment, and the 81st marker in the We Learn Wednesdays series. (Assuming I have faithfully and accurately kept count.) And this time, we have to try to figure out why a post office has a historic marker.

This installment features the fabled form letter of plaques.

I love the National Registry markers, but I appreciate, even more, the local ones with some information on them. And it will never not disappoint me that the Registry doesn’t contain an extant explanation of all of the places they acknowledge. In this case, however, you can’t even find this post office on the list! Anyway, here’s the building.

The first post office opened there, or around there, in November of 1903. But the first post office in these parts, I read elsewhere, was created by legislation in 1792. Either way, 18th or early 20th century, they served very rural routes, I would imagine. Also, the first airmail flew out of the county in 1938, it was a gimmick marking the 20th anniversary of airmail. It possessed all of the 1930s pomp and circumstance a small town could muster. There were special envelopes and handlers. The mail bag was taken to the airfield by a fire truck, where other special handlers took part. The Boy Scouts turned out to witness the occasion, and so on. The mail flew to a town about 30 miles away.

And not related to this, but interestingly, I also read an anecdote of an airmail pilot who crashed his plane in 1918 one county away. He was trying to land, but some livestock got in the way. He made another pass, had engine trouble and wound up crash landing. Broke his machine up, but he lived. The mail got delivered. It was the second day of airmail in the U.S. On the same day as the first local airmail, commemorating 20 years of airmail, that pilot had a nationwide conversation on this thing called radio …

Also, historically speaking, a lot of mail has been delivered over the many years. Too much of it bills.

Next week, I’ll probably have similarly limited success on our next marker, but we’re here to try. If you have missed any markers so far, you can find them all right here.


23
Sep 24

We went to the city and got a new mailbox

Happy Monday, where the points are made up and the lines don’t matter, because it is Monday, and we walked into it, again. We have choices. We make them all the time, and yet, once again, we wind up right back here. Monday.

We’re good at choosing things, or so we tell ourselves, but Monday’s always tell the tale.

Here’s a followup to last Thursday’s story about the mailbox. To recap, a guy got distracted by a wasp or bee in his car, ran off the road a bit, took out our mailbox and cracked his windshield. Fortunately he was OK. His son lives in the neighborhood, he wanted to do the right thing, so he tracked us down, because no one was home. And then he came by that evening, deeply embarrassed, and offered to replace it. Friday morning he was out there putting the new one in.

We might have gotten an upgrade.

Best part is, no bills have come to this mailbox in the three days now that it has been operational.

To sum up, we live in a neighborhood where people are good to one another, take responsibility for their actions, and even put numbers on your mailbox for you.

Seem like this was a good choice.

I had a few nice bike rides today and this weekend. Here’s a video from Saturday, after I got dropped by lovely bride and decided to try a new road.

  

She took this photo on Friday evening. I bought her a new Garmin Varia radar, and this was the test ride.

The Varia sits on the back of the bike, it has a bright light and emits a radar signal (or something like it) and detects oncoming traffic. When something is behind her, the Varia sends a signal to the bike computer in the cockpit. She gets a loud beep and some visual dots.

It’s a nice safety feature. She already loves it. Good present, go me.

On that same ride she went back home before I did, so I added up some extra miles to enjoy the sunset and the neighbors.

Often I turn up this road, and ordinarily you should probably just ride toward the setting sun, just for the magic of it, but I went straight on for this ride.

A few turns later, and heading back in, I was well rewarded for my patience.

There’s something awfully peaceful about being out at that hour — blinking and flashing like a chaotic Christmas try, but my lights are behind me, and these views are peaceful and lonely and full of the imagination.

And, this time of year, gnats. Full of gnats.

Also Saturday, I did an early evening swim. I might have gone faster if only because I didn’t think I would finish my 1,720 yards before it got too dark to see the walls. For about 10 minutes I kept redoing the math, trying to decide where would be a satisfactory place to wrap it up.

But my arms kept moving and sometimes my feet kicked and I got it all in. And now that’s something I want to do more of, swimming in the evening, around my evening rides, I guess. How to manage, how to choose.

Sunday, we caught a train and went into the city. Felt like a rom-com setup for supporting characters in a Billy Chrystal film. We met my in-laws at a restaurant for a terrific meal — more on that tomorrow. And then we walked down to Madison Square Garden to see Sebastian Maniscalco and friends. He’d been filling up the Garden all week. This was his last show there. At the end, he brought his father on stage.

They’re shooting a documentary together, he said. I think Maniscalco is trying to make his dad a star. Isn’t that what Instagram and TikTok are for? I was a sweet moment. For us, this was a Christmas present for the in-laws. The headliner, feature and opening acts all had great acts in the round, and my father-in-law laughed at every joke. I think my mother-in-law did, too.

And then, just like in the movies, we parted ways outside the Garden. Them to their car and back to Connecticut. Us to the train station and a ride back home.

No one at the restaurant, which we will talk about tomorrow, offered me pepper for my paprikash.


19
Sep 24

Right out of the box

After a thoroughly trying afternoon of meetings, I came home to check the mail … but there was no mailbox.

There was a mailbox, but it wasn’t on the post. It was on the ground. That is most decidedly not where I left it earlier today.

Great, I thought, that’s something I get to figure out how to fix tomorrow.

Soon after that I got a text from my lovely bride asking about the mailbox. She was asking because someone called her, leaving a message saying he hit the thing, and he’d be by later this evening to explain what happened. That’s a decent thing to do. And, sure enough, a man showed up in the early evening, chagrin and regret on his face.

He said his son lives in our neighborhood and he’s through here all the time. Today he was dropping something off and, as he left, he said a hornet or a wasp got in his car. He looked down to try to swat it away, or some such, and his car drifted to the right, hitting the box, tearing it from the post, cracking his windshield and ripped out the wood work.

He said he was going to come by tomorrow to replace the box, which was a wonderful gesture.

And, most importantly, I don’t have to figure out how to install a mailbox tomorrow.

Guy felt so bad about it he wouldn’t even let us pay for the box or the lumber. And, presumably tomorrow, the bills can be dropped off once more.

I did get in a nice 21-mile ride today. It was good to be outside. There were no new roads, but I put a few of the familiars together in a new combination. It was warm and sunny, and my shadow enjoyed it.

And now it’s dinner time. We’re getting Indian food tonight; that’s something to celebrate.