Blazing Saddles

Before I had traveled two blocks from home, I was passed by another cyclist. Once I was warmed up, I was surprised to pass him and open up a substantial gap, although he was a big guy, riding in casual attire and without a helmet. He must have felt compelled to catch me; when we met at a traffic light, he was out of breath. His eyes grew wide when he learned that I would be riding from San José to Morgan Hill, and back. After pancakes, of course—I was on my way to our club's traditional Independence Day breakfast. With the promise of pancakes ahead and a flat route, I averaged 17 mph.

The club had a record turnout: nearly 200 members, many bedecked in red, white, and blue. Post-pancakes, there were many rides from which to choose. This year, I had been convinced to co-lead one. A dozen riders headed out with us into the dry, rolling hills on our trip to Uvas Canyon County Park. We warned them that we had carelessly underestimated the mileage [by a whopping 35%], but they simply shrugged. A hardy bunch, many had ridden to the start that morning, like me.

The route itself was a success. Being mostly unfamiliar with the area, I relied on a combination of satellite map imagery and Streetview to choose roads with bike lanes, find controlled intersections for left turns, and confirm a pass-through blocked to vehicular traffic.

With the hills and heat, needless to say I did not average 17 mph throughout the day. I was happy to enjoy the redwoods and cool shade at the park, and delighted to find the rest of the group waiting for the last of us in the shade of a giant eucalyptus tree on the return route. Miraculously, despite the tire-softening heat and the usual abundance of broken glass in the bike lanes of San José, we got through the day without a single flat.

At the end of the ride, wilting in the heat and caked with sunscreen, salt, and grime, I returned home at a snail's pace. Sixty-seven miles, a modest 2,130 feet of climbing, some 2400 Calories burned.