Yes, Christmas has passed away, and it seems a bit late to blog about it. But when one has few rides to post, padding is appropriate, I think.
Christmas in a “blended” family is always interesting, but this year was particularly so. The Boy was off at his dad’s that morning, and The Girls were at their mom’s. This left The Beloved and I alone on Christmas morning. No screaming 5am Santa-induced freak-outs, no last-minute gift wrapping… just eggs and bacon at 10am and freedom for a few precious hours until 1pm, when the little angels would descend upon us, hyped up on sugar and jonesing for their stockings. So what do you do when you have three hours alone with The Love of Your Life? You go on a bike ride by yourself while he researches avalanche videos for his Mountaineers class, of course.
The Panasonic was in need of a ride with the handlebars rolled up to the sky, and I was in desperate need of exercise after our recent bout of snow. So off I went, Panasonic securely strapped to the bike rack on the Honda, down to the Cedar River Trail.
Portions of the trail are very pretty, winding under a canopy of trees beside the rushing river. Bald eagles fish there, along with herons and kingfishers. On the morning of December 25th, however, the trail appeared to have been hanging out with my freezer. Up in the rarefied air of the hill where we live, just a few miles from the trail, the thermometer had read a balmy 30 degrees. Down by the river, however, it had to be at least 10 degrees cooler. I had, of course, dressed for the occasion in my nordic ski pants, gloves, wool knee socks… and a hoody under my coat which allowed me to at least nominally cover my ears under my helmet (the brand new fleece hood I was to receive later that day from The Beloved lay wrapped beneath the tree). I still froze.
The paved surface of the bridge was frosted. No one else was out and about, and if they were, they certainly weren’t stupid enough to stop every fifteen feet and take photographs. But when one has the bike bug, one begins to wish to document rides that have no apparent appeal other than the fact that they, you know, exist. Like this one!
Clearly, the sign maker wasn’t a cyclist. I mean, the guy is racing in his socks.
After a blisteringly fast 15 mile run, which lasted at least 45 minutes, the Panasonic stopped and caught its breath beneath a sign clearly created by lunatics.
The only bikes I have ever seen upholding that speed limit were ridden by toddlers. Even The Boy bests 10mph on his Huffy. Cheese it, kid, it’s the cops!