Time to stop finding excuses, get on the bike, and go. Thus, I have biked eight of the past nine days (five in a row): some 319 miles, with about 12,230 feet of climbing.
It's paying off; my legs are stronger. And with this week's heat wave, there was no better time to be on the bike. The early morning hours are cool, and the temperature is dropping nicely during the evening ride home.
I've been mixing it up a bit on the return trip, having invented a new game I call “Trail Roulette.”
It's so convenient to start out on the trail, but it's also so risky. My game goes like this: Stay on the trail until I meet a Bicyclist Behaving Badly ... then, exit.
In the first few rounds, I've been exiting at the same place—the first real exit, after passing under the freeway.
Today, I didn't follow the rules; I stayed on the trail after a pair of cyclists approached and passed me while riding side-by-side, one over center line. It's Friday, the trail isn't crowded ... As I started onto the second overcrossing, an officer on a motorcycle approached. Motorcycle. Followed by three more. At least they had the sense to ride single file.
I took the next exit.
On Tuesday, taking the first exit wasn't enough to skirt stupidity: A cyclist was blocking the opening to the street, rolling to and fro in a trackstand.
Right back to the trail. [Sigh.] So, that's where that trail exit leads. Time to surrender to my fate. Clearly I was meant to use the trail today.
As I neared the final overcrossing at the end of the trail, a car horn sounded on the adjacent freeway. Traffic was flowing at the usual crawl, was there a bit of road rage brewing?
Then I looked up at the bridge. Two people were standing above the southbound lanes, displaying signs. “HONK! IF U ♥ BERNIE”
Brrng-brrng.
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