The month of February marks the first full month since I made the decision to really pursue a multi-day trip. Biking to meet my wife for lunch in late January, I began to ruminate about a potential 800-mile trip to my home town of Kennedy, NY, from our current home in Iowa City, IA, and went from considering it to putting forth a viable game plan within the next 36 hours.
I kept pushing down on the pedals even though my feet felt unresponsive, given their current state of numbness. I played absently with my hydration pack tube, trying to break up the ice build up until a cross wind threatened to push me off the no-shoulder busy Route 965 on my way to North Liberty #thefastestgrowingcityinIowa #insidejoke #hashtag.
On a sunny April afternoon in 2016, I turned down Water Street in Kent, OH, on my way home, taking a 15-mile route instead of the standard six miles. Water Street is four lanes across with no shoulder heading straight through town and my bright blue backpack, vibrant green shirt, and flashing red tail light were all doing a fine job of indicating my very deserving and not at all incorrect presence on the road.
One issue with this upcoming July ride is the back-to-back nature of it. I know from past experience that I can handle up to 250 miles in one go, so […]
I have been hit by a car exactly once. It was about as mild as being hit by a car can be, if I’m honest, but if you unexpectedly hit something with your vehicle, as gentle of a tap as it may have been, you have hit it.
I was on a bike path that had to cross over streets and that allows me the right-of-way, as incoming cars have a stop sign. As I approached the intersection, I saw the white Toyota come to its mandatory stop, but something inside me caused me to think that that was about all the caution I should expect from them.
Science is interesting in that new ideas or re-evaluation of old adages are often ignored and the same debunked ideas are recycled and spouted as fact. The most extreme example […]
When nothing remarkable happens, you are left wondering if something actually even happened at all. It’s funny how a lack of drama is usually what one craves when going on slightly long rides and yet, the lack of drama leaves the description of the ride as something like the following: I pedaled a bunch and got where I was planning on going.
“Madness is never that far away. It’s as close as saying yes to the wrong impulse, but you don’t because luckily most of us have that little voice inside our head that says, “Uh uh uh, turning the car into oncoming traffic is counterproductive!”
– Jim Carrey
It was raining decently when I left on a planned 119 mile training ride on my Centurion road bike. Seven miles in, I hit some railroad tracks at just slightly the wrong angle. My tire went left and I went straight. I landed directly on my hip, yelling out loud upon impact, “I knew that was going to happen!”
I won’t say that as a cyclist’s wife I have it nearly as hard as, say, a military or rockstar’s wife. The former may live without her husband for months, always wondering if he’ll make it home alive and in one piece. The latter may also not see her husband for months while he tours and, assuming he’s a stereotypical rockstar who’s into hard drugs and easy women, may have similar concerns that he may not come home alive or in one piece.