Turkey Trotters

This year marked the 19th annual edition of the Silicon Valley Turkey Trot, a fundraising Thanksgiving morning tradition. When I realized they needed volunteers in the days leading up to the event, I signed up for a weekday slot. Because, I can.

I knew about this event, but had no idea how big it was: Fielding something like 21,000 participants entails distributing a lot of bibs (race numbers) in advance. And after so many years, the organizers were, well ... organized.

When two people were needed to staff a number look-up station and only one hand went up, I claimed the second spot. Good decision, as it turned out my partner had experience—same role, second volunteer shift.

People could also register at our station, and a few did. We were there to shepherd them through the sign-up process, if they got stuck. One woman explained that while she's normally part of a family group, there would be only two of them this year. “Will you be there?” she asked. No, I explained; I'm not a runner. “You could walk. Next year!”

True enough. The 5k would be easy.

Next year?

Be the Change

I pulled into the parking lot where I would meet my friends, frowning as I passed three large pieces of litter. Well, I would take care of that in short order.

Not wanting to touch the rumpled tshirt, I snagged it with my hiking poles. As I raised the lid on the nearest trash bin, one of the guys who had been loitering near his motorcycle approached with the other two items! I thanked him; he replied “Thank you, it's not even your trash!” I smiled. “I always try to leave a place cleaner than I found it.”

Not having hiked these trails until today, I was surprised to get a glimpse of Monterey Bay (blanketed in fog).

Our trek would have been more peaceful on a weekday, I reckon. It's been years since I've biked up here on a weekend, and now ... I learned that I shouldn't. Sports cars and motorcycles driven by wanna-be racers evidently rule the road, with no enforcement in sight. Roaring engines made it challenging to hear anything else. And I don't think I've seen a discarded beer bottle along a trail—until now.

My companions and beautiful weather made for a good hike (4.7 miles), anyway.

Yes, I carried out (and recycled) that bottle. [But not the Beetle.]

San Juan Bautista

I headed south with my chief biking buddy for a non-cycling adventure. Destination: San Juan Bautista.

We took an unplanned detour out Salinas Road and San Juan Grade, having missed the turn for the trailhead we sought for the Juan Bautista De Anza National Historic Trail. My buddy insisted (correctly, it turns out) that we had biked up that road. I had no memory of it, probably because I had been so unnerved by that day's stretch along Crazy Horse Canyon Road. One thing is certain: the road is in no better shape now than it was in 2015.

The trail was popular with local hikers and runners—likely more so now in the cooler weather than the heat of summer, given the lack of tree cover. The hills were golden and the sky was clear.

There were many Gray Buckeyes fluttering about, no doubt searching for some nectar. Very few plants are blooming this late in the season, but there were a couple of fuller's teasels hanging on—and the butterflies found them.

After hiking a little over four miles, we headed into town. We meandered along the main street, but of course no trip here would be complete without a visit to the historic mission. I'll always think of my friend Steve here, who made sure I didn't miss the plaque for El Camino Real back in 2007 when I visited for the first time on a club ride.

New adventures mix with the old, not to be forgotten.

Be Fit

A nice fall day for a bike ride—a test ride after a recent bike fit. Nothing too adventurous or far astray—a fast 27 miles on a familiar route. For the first time (ever) I felt comfortable riding with my hands on the hoods, instead of drifting back to my customary intermediate position on the bars.

Years ago, some time after I'd started cycling regularly, I'd heeded advice to get a proper bike fit. As I'd become more fit, stress points on my body had surfaced. “You were enjoying this?” remarked the fitter as he raised my saddle a full 1.5 inches. On my very next ride, my knees stopped hurting.

Over time I realized that the fit wasn't quite right, and this had become abundantly clear over the past year as I spent less time on a road bike and more time upright on a more-forgiving casual bike. Without habitually over-stretching my arms and shoulders to reach the road bike's hoods, doing so now was painful. [You were enjoying this?]

I finally indulged in a full-on professional bike fit, and it was worth it. Worth it for my body. Worth it to enjoy my best bike. Totally, worth it.

Once the fit was mostly dialed in, I was surprised to find how quickly I picked up on tiny tweaks that went in the wrong direction. I was amazed that I could I be so sensitive to a change of mere millimeters, bringing to mind the story of the Princess and the Pea. Chalk it up to greater body awareness and thousands of miles of biking, I guess; I'm definitely no princess!

Post-ride, I met up with a friend for a late lunch and an impromptu trip (not by bike) to take in the sunset atop Mt. Umunhum. Any residual soreness was the result of engaging, rather than straining, muscles in my back and shoulders.

Totally worth it.

Spirited Silliness

Halloween is nearly here. Last year's adorable pop-up kitten was not on display at the local elementary school this year. [Bummer.]

There was one person ahead of me as I surveyed the scene this morning. The hall was festooned with webs and fake spiders, in preparation for a special event (I presumed). Then I noticed the woman at the intake table, her hair in plastic rollers and her face smeared with cold cream. [Yes, I'm old enough to know what that's about.] She checked off my name and offered a chocolate truffle. Right after breakfast? Sure, why not ...

“Albert” approached—a man with wild white hair, a bushy mustache, and a name tag noting E=mc² explained today's Blood Drive Olympics: estimate how much time it would take to donate your pint (within seconds) and win a gift card.

This was not your run-of-the-mill blood drive.

There was a flapper in a sequined sheath, and a reverend. Perhaps he frightened Count Dracula away? [Not a single vampire in sight.]

Apparently this group of volunteers has been hosting this event for many years; a couple of them spent hours, last night, decorating the hall. A dealer was set up at a blackjack table to entertain any waiting donors if things backed up.

My time estimate fell short, but following a consultation between Einstein and the reverend, I was granted a dispensation and awarded my prize.

The “special event” was us!

Walk and Talk

Are you busy? [No.] Want to go for a walk? [Sure.]

Thus began an impromptu visit to the Sierra Azul Open Space Preserve (not a neighborhood stroll).

I've taken in this view from Bald Mountain before, but now I can recognize more than rolling hills and the sprawl of south San Jose: I realized that I could see the Rotary Furnace and nearby structures, below and to the right of the bare rock face in Almaden Quicksilver County Park.

The road to the summit of Mt. Umunhum had been closed when we arrived, but we found it open after our short “hike” and decided to drive up for the view.

I wouldn't have the patience to wait around for the lighting to be “just so,” to catch the afternoon sun briefly turning one narrow ridgeline golden. I just get lucky, sometimes.

There was one more treat in store for us. From the parking lot, we'd walked up the road; to return, we took the stairs. Of all places, we did not expect to meet a snake there!

For the warmth? Best as we could tell, this was a Santa Cruz Gartersnake. (Not dangerous.)

However often you might return to a place, there is always something new to see.

Ride Together

Look on the bright side: it could have been wetter. Mist, then drizzle, speckled my spectacles. My gloves were soaked, my hands chilled, and I should have worn wool socks.

Today marked the 20th anniversary Best Buddies ride in California, and my 17th. I'd been uncertain about riding this year; it feels like the ride's shift to October in Marin all but ensures wet weather (and slippery pavement). Still, I support the mission. And I hadn't managed to visit the venue's gallery last year.

This year's event included a shorter route, and I was relieved to dial it back. The past two years I'd rolled in at the tail end of lunch, despite pushing myself close to the limit. This year I wanted to enjoy the post-ride celebration.

I was also looking forward to a change in scenery. We escaped the wetness as we headed inland, which afforded some lovely views of the Nicasio Reservoir.

With one rest stop and a couple of photo stops, I managed to roll across the finish line 3 hours, 12 minutes after I'd started: completing 38 miles and more than 1,600 feet of climbing (give or take).

I had plenty of time to get cleaned up and head up the hill for lunch—where, for once, I was an early bird. I was delighted for the chance to chat with Cam Wurf, who provided some hilarious context for our memorable first encounter. He's an all-around nice guy, which is true of everyone I've met through this organization and its events.

A woman at an adjacent table was moved to tears when Best Buddies Amabassador and rapper “Flava Fran” performed the piece she'd written about the impact Best Buddies has had on her life. She wasn't fazed last night when the room erupted in laughter and applause; like a seasoned pro, she waited for the room to settle down and said “I'm not done, there's more.”

Last night, Lisa Loeb(!) followed Fran to perform two of her songs: Stay (I Missed You), and Another Day. When thinking about which songs to share with us, she'd recognized a metaphor in the latter one: for world events at this moment in time, for the challenges faced by folks with disabilities, and for the event that brought us here.

But everybody knows that life can change like the weather
And everybody wants the things they know to stay the same
But we’re not gonna last forever
And nothing’s ever meant to stay
But while we’re on this ride together, let’s do it for another day