Playing in the Fallout, Part 1
The Saturday before my birthday I wanted to go for a bike ride. I didn't feel like going through all the effort, mind you, I just wanted to be riding. I'd gone on a few short rides starting before the ice was all the way off the roads, but nothing more than about twelve miles. It felt good to be riding, but I was unable to motivate myself on this particular day. So I began looking for excuses not to bother.
"I don't even know where to go," I whined.
"Just get on the Greenway and see how far you can go," Dawny offered.
It turns out, the answer is "Shakopee." I rode my bike to Shakopee and back and only turned around because I was worried about how long I would be out as there was much meat to consume back at home.
I had no intention of riding 42 miles, in fact at eight miles out I was tired and making deals with myself. I decided that at eleven miles I would turn around and I could feel good about a twenty mile ride. Eleven miles came and went, and so did I. The nice paved bike path turned into crushed limestone at about ten miles from home, but I just kept rolling on. I laughed as I passed ring after ring of freeways that encircle and border the city.
At about sixteen miles, I had gone farther on this path than I ever had before and things were getting exciting. And I started making new deals. Since I was planning on turning around at eleven miles, I thought, I could instead turn around at twice that, because that would be funny. But if I was going 22 miles out, I really might as well go an extra half-mile or so and make the total ride 45 miles, because that would be awesome. But then, I thought, if I was going that far, it would only be another couple miles out to make the round trip fifty miles.
This was getting exciting, but as I started passing farms, like, actual farms with dilapidated red barns and cows and horses grazing in fields, I realized that I was setting myself up to die somewhere on a bike path far from home. I firmly set my resolve to turn around at twenty miles as that was already about four times as far as any ride I'd made this season. Even then, twenty came and went and so did I.
It was a hill that finally did it. It wasn't an especially big hill, but I stopped at the top of it looking down. I was still in good spirits, and all, but going down would mean coming back up. I dismounted, took five minutes or so to enjoy the view, and did the responsible thing and turned back towards home.
From Shakopee.
On the return trip I came to realize that I'd been riding with a pretty steady, unpleasant wind the entire time and that my course had been trending ever so slightly downhill. Coming back, up hill and against the wind, wasn't nearly as enjoyable.
But forty-two miles, motherfucker. Yeah.
"How do you feel after all that?"
"I have The Dumbs like whoa. But I kind of feel like a superhero."
This entry was originally posted on Dreamwidth here. You are free to comment here or there using OpenID. (
DW Comments)
"I don't even know where to go," I whined.
"Just get on the Greenway and see how far you can go," Dawny offered.
It turns out, the answer is "Shakopee." I rode my bike to Shakopee and back and only turned around because I was worried about how long I would be out as there was much meat to consume back at home.
I had no intention of riding 42 miles, in fact at eight miles out I was tired and making deals with myself. I decided that at eleven miles I would turn around and I could feel good about a twenty mile ride. Eleven miles came and went, and so did I. The nice paved bike path turned into crushed limestone at about ten miles from home, but I just kept rolling on. I laughed as I passed ring after ring of freeways that encircle and border the city.
At about sixteen miles, I had gone farther on this path than I ever had before and things were getting exciting. And I started making new deals. Since I was planning on turning around at eleven miles, I thought, I could instead turn around at twice that, because that would be funny. But if I was going 22 miles out, I really might as well go an extra half-mile or so and make the total ride 45 miles, because that would be awesome. But then, I thought, if I was going that far, it would only be another couple miles out to make the round trip fifty miles.
This was getting exciting, but as I started passing farms, like, actual farms with dilapidated red barns and cows and horses grazing in fields, I realized that I was setting myself up to die somewhere on a bike path far from home. I firmly set my resolve to turn around at twenty miles as that was already about four times as far as any ride I'd made this season. Even then, twenty came and went and so did I.
It was a hill that finally did it. It wasn't an especially big hill, but I stopped at the top of it looking down. I was still in good spirits, and all, but going down would mean coming back up. I dismounted, took five minutes or so to enjoy the view, and did the responsible thing and turned back towards home.
From Shakopee.
On the return trip I came to realize that I'd been riding with a pretty steady, unpleasant wind the entire time and that my course had been trending ever so slightly downhill. Coming back, up hill and against the wind, wasn't nearly as enjoyable.
But forty-two miles, motherfucker. Yeah.
"How do you feel after all that?"
"I have The Dumbs like whoa. But I kind of feel like a superhero."
This entry was originally posted on Dreamwidth here. You are free to comment here or there using OpenID. (
DW Comments)