Some days are like that…

The day was shaping up nicely – or so I thought. My top layer had already been peeled off and stowed, and a pleasant sheen of perspiration glistened on my brow. Yet by the time my destination had been reached the sky had clouded over and the winds had whipped into something of a fury. Today’s ride was looking to be shorter than anticipated.

In search of a wind break I left the open road in lieu of a few miles of undulating state park path, encased for the most part by trees on all sides. Leaving the trail I encountered gravel roads, narrow and steep and loose – but also blissfully free of windsheer. Climbing the first hill, I lowered my gears into the granny and yet still found myself standing. Am I really that far gone after a relatively mild winter of slothfulness?

To be honest, I really don’t get the whole “gravel thing” – but to each his own. I’ve friends who live for this stuff. There was a time not so long ago that I thought there’d be greater appeal for me. But alas! That appeal has thus far eluded me.

I far prefer exploring neglected and forgotten back roads, those crumbling chipsealed blacktop tracks that few people except locals have need to travel. And while my Boulder meets those needs quite well, on this day I found myself wandering along, content to be enjoying the benefit of wider 650b tires.

At the top of the very first hill, at the edge of the park, stands a brick structure. The building is a restored  one room rural school house. Growing up in rural Missouri, my teen years were often spent in exploration of back roads where my friends and I encountered many a crumbling derelict of a school house. Those abandoned buildings, built by the farming community with great care were now crumbling, no longer of much use as schools consolidated and students moved into larger buildings in the surrounding towns. It’s remarkable to encounter one in this condition.

On the same patch of ground, just adjacent to the school is this intriguing – and to my eye, anyway, rather mysterious looking multi-sided building. I’d like to know more about it, and I suppose it would be easy to find out its original purpose simply by asking at the park offices. I couldn’t help but think what a wonderful painting studio it would make though!

 

My refuge…

The final semester assignment for my Drawing students is a self portrait in charcoal and chalk that illustrates the theme of “Where’s my refuge?” As usual, I draw along with my students so I can model the kind of decision-making that artists engage in through the development of an artwork. To exemplify the theme, as it applied to me, well of course I would illustrate my refuge astride a bicycle, wind in my hair, sprinting along a lonely road a million miles from anywhere.

For the past couple of months my riding has been pretty limited. School seems to have kept me busier than usual. More worrisome than that, some sort of weird knee issue has emerged. I’ve been an especially strong climber this year, so suddenly finding myself with minimal saddle time, and scared to test the knee to much with climbing has left me a grumbly old fart. The few miles I’ve put in have been almost entirely flat and residential. Ugh.

My knee has felt very tentative during each ride. Walking up stairs has felt very tentative too. So I was overjoyed this cool, overcast December evening to pedal out of my driveway, both my knees and legs feeling strong. Zooming down the first hill was exhilarating, the brisk air harnessed more than a few tears, the moisture slid around the side of my face and quickly dried, leaving salty tracks in the wake. My first climb was a short one, but I did it sitting, as is my wont. In fact, the thing I’ve missed most has been seated climbing: I really don’t care to stand. Strong pedal strokes through town, and then up a longer hill, and another, and then finally the long climb back up to my house. The ride was relatively short – why tempt fate too much? It was probably a good idea using the past several weeks to rest whatever has been ailing me, and it is probably a good idea not to push too hard for a while longer, but it sure feels good to be back in my refuge, if only in short bursts.