Sticking the Landing

Reminds me of the last time I was hit by a car–about ten years ago. While riding at about 20mph on a separated cycle track, a car came tearing down a driveway from the left, blowing through the stop sign in order to hit traffic at speed on the road parallel to the track. I braked hard, went into a bit of a powerslide, drove my left lower-leg into the passenger-side front quarter panel, and then did a perfect roll over the front of the car and landed on my feet. In the process, I broke the windshield and put a man-sized dent in the hood. The messenger bag full of work clothes no doubt helped with that.

While I suffered only a deep bruise on my left leg, the bike was totaled. One broken wheel, the other badly damaged. One bent crank. Bent fork. And the frame–a steel Specialized Stumpjumper Comp from the early 90s–broke in two places.

In my case, no insurance dispute. She just wrote me a check and offered me a ride home. I accepted both, though I should have called a cab. Scariest ride in a car I’ve ever had.

Nothing and Something

In some ways, yesterday’s ride was nothing special: another Sunday ride. But in the ways that are most important, it was also something.

We hit the road early since it was likely to get warm in the afternoon, climbed quite a few hills, stopped for mint limeade and to fill the bottles, climbed a few more hills, caught a tailwind coming back north, stopped for the lunch of champions (ham and cheese sandwich, BBQ pringles, 24oz can of Miller Lite, bottle of water), and then cruised home to cold beer, grilled sausages, and that perfect tiredness that comes from a day of exertion in the sun and wind combined with beer and food.

Stats: 139.5km, 26.6km/h, ~1000m of climbing. My legs hate me a little, today.

A Quiet Weekend

After a rather ugly week at work, decided to lay low for the weekend. Watched the Tour stage on Saturday, did some work around the house, and then took a 30-mile spin around town in the extreme humidity with my wife.

But on Sunday, I got out on the road for a bit with Nate (who also took all the photos but the first).

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56 miles at a rather sedate 16.8mph, followed by a cold beer and a burrito. So that was good.

Down the BST (by NV)

Beer, Bikes, and Brats

Hot damn…another truly fine summer weekend.

On the 4th, Nate and I rode down the Badger State Trail on our fat-bikes. The July 4 trip on the BST has become something of a tradition for me; this makes four years running. This year was probably the best yet: the weather was perfect, the company genial, the pace casual but deliberate, and the beer cold (note to self: Miller > Budweiser by a long shot). When we arrived back at my place, my wife put cold beers into our hands before we’d made it all the way in the door. After that, eating, drinking, lounging on the deck. Perfect 4th of July.

On the 5th, I fetched the CSA box and we ran about gathering plants and mulch so that K could replant one of the garden beds and augment a couple of the others. I provided transportation, supervision, photo-documentation, and moral support (in the form of cold beer). Oh, and bacon-wrapped brats, potato salad and sauerkraut make a fine breakfast. After the work was done, we spent the rest of the day lounging on the deck with music, snacks, and cold beer. Until dusk, that is, when we got a fire going in the fire pit.

On the 6th, Nate and I went for a 50-mile road ride that took in the Sassy Cow Creamery (which wasn’t open when we arrived) and points east. My legs felt like concrete after the fat-bike ride on the 4th, the humidity was steadily climbing as we rode, and I was surely a little dehydrated from all the beer I’d been drinking over the past couple of days. But, our pace was solid and we made it back without any real trouble–though I did feel a bit trashed for a couple of hours afterward. Nothing a shower beer couldn’t cure though…

Photos marked NV by Nate Vergin.