Up the Hill

Consider it a walking meeting, with the added bonus of occupying our full attention (no distracting phones or laptops). Two of us ducked out of the office just early enough to hit the trail by 4:45 p.m. Enough daylight for a short—sometimes steep—hike.

It's been rather a long time since I've trudged up the Kennedy Trail, which is silly considering how nearby it is. (Thankfully, dry today.)

Up the hill, and back down: about 3.5 miles and maybe 700 feet of climbing. Highly recommended as a way to de-stress at the end of the workday.

Bici

If I could bike 37 miles in a day (albeit in two sittings), I should be able to do the flat version of the club's beloved “Bici” ride. Its namesake bicycle shop closed several years ago, but a suitable gathering place for the start was found nearby.

Prepared to go it alone, off the back, I set out on my adapted version of the route—which avoids a formerly desolate stretch of road, a freeway interchange, and (more recently) a busy Costco. I think the crowd was somewhat puzzled, as they waited to turn left at a traffic signal, when they saw me sail ahead on the road they were about to join.

They waited for me at the tops of the climbs, and I was surprised that most people would be skipping the hillier variation of the ride today. Eventually off the back, I expected to capture a photo of the reservoir I would pass; but that was not to be. A strong rider caught up to me after fixing a flat and slowed to my pace, to chat.

We regrouped at a coffee shop, and when it was time to leave I found myself leading a small posse. I alerted them that I would be deviating from the “official” route near the end, to avoid that same unpleasant stretch of road. They endorsed my variation, which wends alongside a “linear park” through a relatively new neighborhood, and encouraged me to recommend it to the ride leader.

I was gratified that 38 miles and 765 feet of climbing didn't wear me out. It was a treat to have company for almost all of the ride; after all, that's why we show up for these club rides, isn't it? And who knows, maybe next time I'll find that my twist has been adopted for the traditional route.

February is Feasible

The unseasonably warm weather was irresistible.

There is just enough daylight to make it home without ducking out of work too early.

I had debated pulling the headlight off my helmet, as I haven't really needed it for the short rides home from the shuttle. Leaving it in place was a good call, as the last couple of miles turned legitimately dark.

A little over 37 miles, with 780 feet of climbing for this flatter version of my round-trip commute.

The next morning, my body reminded me that I haven't been getting enough exercise. [Must work on that.]

A Flat Ride

When a yellow sac spider settles in for a nap on your downtube, it's a sign that you should be getting out more. (I used a twig to peel off the sac; the spider, I imagine, will be surprised to wake up many miles from where it fell asleep.)

I was looking for a short and easy ride, but not quite so short as it turned out ...

It was a chilly and overcast morning as the group gathered, discussing the pros and cons of tubeless tires. A couple of us felt that they seemed like more trouble than they're worth. I rarely get flats; I suggested that some tubeless riders end up with more trouble because they think they're invincible and stop watching for debris in their path. [We joked that now I'd tempted fate ...]

We turned out of the parking lot and ... immediately stopped, as the leader's Garmin was finicky. A little bit ahead of the group, I waited for her to pass. I had my eye on the other riders as I started to roll. I did not have my eyes on the road.

Wait, I said; there's something stuck to my front tire ... no, through my front tire.

We had not even traveled one-tenth of a mile. Feeling as deflated as my tire, I told them to continue without me; I was just going back home. I didn't feel like fixing it in the cold, and I didn't feel like making the group stand around even longer than we already had.

I collect road debris whenever I can. Preferably, with my hands.

Winter Sports

It's not all about the bike. [Well, it's mostly about the bike.]

Our HR system started admonishing me “You should take a vacation!” [Challenge accepted.]

Off to Utah, home to the best snow on earth. And the home of good friends who welcome a stream of visitors, mostly during ski season. Great skiing is just a plane ticket away—it's easier than going to Tahoe.

They encouraged me to give their Peloton bike a try. I'm not really a spin class fan, but ... why not? The beginner workout got my heart pumping. And the advanced beginner session reminded me why I'm not a spin class fan. It's not cycling. It's a workout, for sure; but I'm happier on a rowing machine or a StairMaster. [Personal preference, that's all.] Spinning my legs at a cadence of 90+ rpm bears no semblance to cycling.

Case in point: some of my colleagues are HIIT fans, and they've tried enticing me to join them. “You'd kill us on the bike!” one said. It's not about the cadence, she insisted; the goal is distance, 3/4 of a mile in a minute. [Hahahahahahaha.] In other words, 45 mph. A pro cyclist might average 31 mph in a time trial.

But this isn't about the bike, it's about the skis. Alta had already collected more than 400 inches of snow this year, and mid-week I had the lift (and often the trail) to myself. On the last day, I shared a chair with a woman who exclaimed “Challenger [a black diamond run] is beautiful, they've groomed it!” Turned out she was 83 years old. “My husband passed away at 95,” she shared. “And he kept skiing till the end.”

I had been puzzled why one of my favorite runs was roped off, until it opened on the last day and I realized there's a slide path down the face of an adjacent peak.

One run stood out on this trip, one so special that it will live on in my memory: The snow was the consistency of flour. I've never experienced anything like it.

Looking forward to many happy returns. The best snow on earth.

In With the New

Wintertime,
And my fingers are freezing.
Rooftops are frosted;
The sun is low in the sky.

Warm toes? Warm fingers? Pick one, because you can't have both on a chilly winter morning. By the time my fingers stopped stinging, my toes were numb. [Eh, it's not really that cold here.]

And what better day for a bike commute, when the office is empty. Best time of the year to catch up: no meetings, no interruptions, no one else around. It was so quiet in the afternoon that one of my colleagues couldn't take it anymore and headed back home to work from there.

A fine day for an early departure, to get home before dark!

Turning Twenty

My last ride of 2019. Last ride before that third digit flips from one to two. It's a turning point whether you declare that the new decade starts two days from now, or a year and two days from now.

It had rained overnight, but I wanted to fit in one more ride this year. Be mindful of slick painted lines and slippery metal rails and grates and shards of glass that adhere to your tires ... The ride would make a mess of the bike, but I so look forward to indulging in a few winter round-trip bike commutes during this quiet time between holidays, when I can duck out of the office early enough to get home before dark.

One year, someone had adorned the bronze quail near the Mary Avenue bridge with handmade red scarves. This year, I found them pressed into service pulling Santa's sleigh.

I clocked more than 2,590 biking miles this year (more than last year), but did less climbing (some 103,000 feet).

But, what about the last ten years? Well. Let's add it up.

I don't track the short utility rides on my folding bike (generally 15 miles per week), but I did wear out its rear tire. On my full-sized bikes, I spent ...

• in excess of 2,513 hours
• pedaling more than 28,259 miles and
  
• climbing over 1,493,389 feet
• in a dozen different countries.

That's once around the earth (and then some). Akin to more than 51 ascents of Mt. Everest (but without being challenged by high altitude). And equivalent to spending over 104 days on a bicycle.

One pedal stroke at a time.