2.6.2011 Ride: Cyclist, (57, Married) Seeks Ice-Free Road

Riding today, I had today's blog post all beautifully composed in my head.  Less than 3 hours later, I struggle to recapture the thoughts, made even harder to recapture with a TV quietly talking in the background and, just now, being approached by Rachel asking if I can spot her as she lifts weights.  How can I say no to that?
I could wait till later in the evening but the distractions will prbably be worse.  And, I do want to get this written, it seems, as much as I wanted, needed to ride this morning.

Studded tires or not, like everyone else in town, the ice, particularly the ice, gets old.  The ice is very treacherous this morning and I know my studded tires will be useless.  Last night I already decided that I would seek out a stretch of road where I could safely ride without fear of falling.  To my surprise, Habberton Rd, a very rural road just down the hill from us, was clear.  It ran for 1.6 miles before heading down a hill that was ice-covered on one side.  That would do, I thought,  making a decent 3.2 mile loop of sorts.

Being back on the road bike felt very good.  Yes, the sound of home-made studded tries successfully working may have been music to my ears but the quiet, smooth rolling sound of the tires on the pavement was a wonderful sonata.  My goal today was at least 20 miles.  Riding back and forth on such a relatively short stretch could seem to get monotonous, but there was really quite a bit to rediscover on each passing: the slow turning to slush of the two ice patches I had to cross; the vultures, cows, barns, cemetery, trucks that passed me more than once, farm items rusting in the pastures, my own parked van that kept startling me as I approached as I initially thought a vehicle was about to pull out, the dog that occasionally appeared with whom I stopped to make friends with on my last passing.

It can take me anywhere between 10-15 miles  to get into a groove. Today, I hit that about mile 12.  Having to slow down after just a mile and a half to turn around doesn't help.  But that quickly became part of the routine, the journey.  I was really moving around mile 18 when a slight drizzle began.  The rain didn't dampen my spirits but I was concerned if it began raining harder I might have to call it a day.  At mile 20, I said let me go for 25.  I began to experience a very quiet exhiliration.  Very few cars passed me and I felt very far removed from the bustle of Hwy 45 so nearby.  There was a strange mix of melancholy and intense beauty that I seemed to drift through.  On one lap of my ride, all my senses seemed to reach a climatic awareness.  The pelting rain, the whiteness of the snow, the quiet of the world, even my cold, cold feet all seemed to add up to an incredible sense of well-being.  This 1.6 mile of road was my own very personal world.  I cherished the moment because I knew it could not last.  Reaching the point where I had to turn around, the intensity of the moment indeed vanished.    

But the ride still moved on effortlessly and when I hit 25, I aimed for 30 miles. On my last lap, the dog that had watched me from its yard, was now in the road.  It moved toward me as I approached, though not menacingly.  I decided to stop and called it over.  She was a bit shy but very sweet and allowed me to pet her. She was a nice last rememberance to a wonderful ride on a mostly ice-free road.

Today's Ride:  2 hrs 35 min.  30.04 miles. 39-41 degrees. Light drizzle last 12 miles. Miles YTD:  667.01