I decided that the best thing I could do to take advantage of my last weekday of being an unemployed bum would be to hop on the bike. A few minutes with Google Maps was all I needed to work out a route.
For the first few miles, I enjoyed the cool, hazy morning. Then I realized the haze was actually cleverly-disguised humidity, and that's why I was so sweaty on such a cool morning. My legs also felt less-strong than usual, which wasn't a particularly auspicious start.
I rode east through Cedar Rapids, into Marion, heading for the east edge of the metro area. My route covered some roads I have never been on before, with some very fancy houses. I'm not talking about suburban McMansions--these were the real thing, with manicured lawns, private ponds (in Iowa, they'd call them lakes), and at least one gazebo bigger than my living room.
After I crossed IA13, riding on Mt. Vernon Road, I realized I was riding into a headwind--that was a big part of why my legs weren't moving me as fast as I expected. Fortunately, starting a loop by riding into a headwind usually means a tailwind on a later part of the ride (this is something I usually end up doing wrong--I end up starting with a tailwind and finishing into a headwind, every bit as accidentally as getting it right this time was).
One of my favorite things about riding into Mt. Vernon along its very own road is seeing the roof of Cornell College's chapel in the distance. It's much more picturesque than a road sign saying "Mt. Vernon 2 Miles", but just about as accurate. The haze this morning gave it a soft, ghostly look--I really need to start carrying a camera on rides.
There was one "errand" I wanted to do in Mt. Vernon. After I finished that, I climbed the hill to the visitor's center on 1st St. The water fountain was still turned on, even a month after Labor Day. A full water bottle and an eaten apple later, I was headed north on Springville Road (no prizes for guessing where that leads).
The wind was at my back and the hills seemed to mostly be downward, so I covered the ten miles to Springville quickly. Traffic was light and the road was in great condition for biking--I recommend it. Because I wasn't looking into the sun anymore, the haze went from bright and shimmery to barely noticeable. The yellowing soybeans actually looked very pretty. Maybe it's because it's a colorful change of pace from the dark-green fields of midsummer. Even though I make plenty of Iowa jokes, I do enjoy riding through landscapes that look like Grant Wood paintings.
At Springville, I turned east, towards home. Right at the Linn/Jones county line, the road turned to gravel. It was well-packed, though. No problem. And certainly better than trying to ride along US-151 (4-lane, heavy traffic, 65mph limit, sketchy shoulders in places). As I turned this way and that, always turning square corners along the Iowa checkerboard, I found myself on progressively looser gravel. It was somewhere on Marion Airport Road that my legs started to complain.
Gravel is tough on a ride like this. It's rough, so you really want to use your legs as shock absorbers. The alternative is to use your backside--the small chunk of it actually touching the seat--to absorb bumps, and that's definitely not recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists. Its roughness also slows you down, so maintaining speed takes extra work. And it's loose, so power gets wasted rearranging rocks (mostly shooting them backwards, although one did entertainingly get tossed nearly straight up to land on my handlebars) instead of moving you forward.
So there I was, riding on a gravel road, nearly out of water, at least ten miles from home. A zig, a zag, and a few miles later, I was on another gravel road, entirely out of water, and riding past the Marion water tower. "Water, water, stored up there, nor any drop to drink," I thought. I considered trying to fill my bottle from the massive drainpipe jutting from the side, but decided that might not be the best of ideas. Besides, I could see my next turn, onto pavement.
By the time I turned onto pavement, I'd covered probably eight miles of gravel, most of it loose. My quads were getting ready to go on strike. My plan was to just head straight home. I almost stuck to that plan. I stopped at the Bowman Woods pool to eat the peanut-butter granola bar I'd brought with. Blood sugar wasn't the problem, but I hoped the combination of quick carbs and protein would appease my legs for another half-dozen miles. I stretched a bit, then got back on the road. Almost there.
As I rode through Marion and then along Boyson Road into Cedar Rapids and Hiawatha, I thought about seeing if any of the stay-at-home moms (and the SAHM-to-be) I know who live close to my route would be willing to fill up my water bottle. Actually, I know they would. I decided not to, though, because (a) I didn't really want to impose, (b) I didn't want to interrupt anything that might be going on, like naptimes, (c) if I stopped, it'd be that much harder to get going again, especially if I stopped and nobody was home and (d) I was probably not entirely rational, so stubbornness won out. But I did mentally wave and say hello as I rode past (so hello to J, D, and H).
I finally got to the trail, and headed home. I wasn't sure if I was up for the "sprint stretch", but I held 18+, and kicked it up to 20 before the turn. I was happy I could do it, but my legs screamed at me. Rough ending, but it really was an enjoyable ride.
And man, it felt good to get hydrated and stretch out a bit.
Important stats:
52.85 miles in 3:23:26 (about 4 hours counting breaks).
2 roadkill raccoons
1 roadkill possum
1 roadkill skunk
4 unidentifiable roadkills, one of which was feathered
1 non-roadkill woodchuck that just stared at me from a schoolyard
Friday, September 26, 2008
Carpe Diem
Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon.For the first time in years I had a "summer vacation." It wasn't a kid's summer vacation, all carefree playing with friends--although I did occasionally complain about boredom. It wasn't a high-schooler's summer vacation, filled with working to save money during the day and hanging out with friends at night. It wasn't a college student's summer vacation, going back home to work or taking trips to far-off places.
It wasn't the vacation I would have chosen, either. It wasn't voluntary. It didn't mean fewer responsibilities. It meant more. I was still responsible for providing for my family, but without a job to do so. So after a few days spent enjoying temporary freedom and surveying the job-posting landscape, I started working hard at getting a job.
Even so, I did have free time during the day. I may not have made the best use of that time, but I certainly enjoyed the idea of having it.
But now, my "summer vacation" is over. On Monday, I start my new job. I'll be making more than I've ever made, and getting better benefits than before. That's nice; it's a good thing. But I will miss my summer vacation. I didn't want the forced unpaid vacation in the first place, and it stretched on way too long. But it's still ending too soon.
Today is my last day of "freedom" before I return to what gets called normal life. I want to use it well. Does that mean doing the good, practical things I can do? Finishing off a project that's best done on a warm day? Logging a few dozen miles on the bike? Doing that bit of "school shopping" I should take care of? Reading the last 700 pages of Alaska? Sleeping? Gardening? So many choices!
Choosing is going to be terribly difficult. Maybe, just maybe, I'll pick up the phone and say "Mom, I'm bored." Because that's way easier than choosing.
Yeah. Right. Like I want to be the bored, boring kid. I'm going to go get me a good answer on Monday for the "What I Did on [the last day of] My Summer Vacation" essay.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Summer's End Ride
Summer is coming to a beautiful end in Iowa. The cold, wet weather last week had me worried that the season for long wandering rides had slipped away. My worry turned out to be spectacularly misplaced, because this whole week has been in the mid 70s and sunny, the kind of days that make you wonder why so much of the summer was spent indoors in the air conditioning.
And of course, one of the best things to do with a beautiful summer's end day, when one is unemployed and has free time during the day, is to take a bike ride. I rode north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. I stopped briefly at the old depot museum in Center Point to refill my water bottle, and continued on the trail to Urbana.
For some reason that I have never figured out, the Center Point-Urbana section of the trail is always a slow ride for me. It's not the scenery. Is it the trail surface? The grade? Prevailing winds? Large insects that aggressively impart unwanted backwards momentum to cyclists? At any rate, I was happy to take a break at the trailside park in Urbana, refill my water bottle, and munch on the apple I had brought (honeycrisp, from Wilson's Orchard...mmm!).
Urbana was the "top" of the loop. It's also the place I left the trail for the road. I followed 32nd Ave (W26?) south out of town. A few miles from town, the road crosses the Cedar River. Piles of sand, mounds of brush, and tree trunks hint at the record flooding from earlier this summer, without being obvious. After a long climb (for Iowa) out of the river bottom, I passed 59th St., then turned toward Center Point on 59th St. Trail--which turned out to be unpaved. I passed 33rd Ave., briefly joined up with 33rd Ave. Drive (giving directions around there must be entertaining), and caught some sweet, sweet pavement on Lewis Access Road.
By this point, my legs were getting tired. I haven't ridden as many long rides as in past years, and I could feel a wall coming. I spun along comfortably into Center Point (yup, again) and stopped at a gas station for a source of well-balanced nutrients. Seriously, I even compared nutrition labels. The candidates? King-sized Snickers, in regular and almond. The almond won, for no particular reason. But like I said, I did compare the labels. I also discovered that Almond Snickers bars taste pretty good. In the interest of science, I will have to see how they taste when I am not craving a quick sugar boost.
The depot museum was only a few minutes from the gas station, so I swung by there for a water refill. That meant I was in the home stretch. Good thing, too, because my legs weren't too excited about the rest of the ride, especially on the crushed limestone trail. And because of union rules, that meant that other hard-working body parts (such as the ones that gently cushion most of me from seat-bounces) were allowed to complain.
With various lower-body parts complaining, the thirteen miles to Hiawatha were slower than the rest of the ride. I was able to ignore the complaining long enough to wonder why the trail was suddenly busy around Lafayette (four oncoming bikes, not together, fairly evenly spaced about a minute apart--very strange). Then the complaining started again. Honestly, toward the tail end (heh, heh) of some longer rides, I start contemplating hanging up the bike for a while. That doesn't last long. I've been back for an hour, and I'm already looking forward to riding again.
After some emergency negotiations between union and management ("Ouch! Less ouch, please!" "It's only another 20 minutes" "No, less ouch now!" "How about I throw in some pavement within five minutes?" "Deal!"), I got to the paved section of the trail, thankful for pavement and that thinking, memory, and perception are all non-union.
I had enough left in my legs to speed up to 20 along the straight, flat stretch just before home, and hold 20 until the turn. Just enough. And now it's lawn-mowing time!
Important stats:
55.74 miles in 3:32:33 (about 4 hours counting breaks). (*) (**)
1 roadkill raccoon
1 roadkill woodchuck
2 chipmunks I nearly ran over
* If the speed or distance seems low, my only bike is a mountain bike, with trail tires, one of which needs to be replaced. I'm dreaming of a nice road bike someday...
** Oh, if only I'd managed to cut off 0.19 miles and ride for another 60 seconds. Then I'd have 55.55 miles in 3:33:33. Such numeric joy, so close...
And of course, one of the best things to do with a beautiful summer's end day, when one is unemployed and has free time during the day, is to take a bike ride. I rode north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. I stopped briefly at the old depot museum in Center Point to refill my water bottle, and continued on the trail to Urbana.
For some reason that I have never figured out, the Center Point-Urbana section of the trail is always a slow ride for me. It's not the scenery. Is it the trail surface? The grade? Prevailing winds? Large insects that aggressively impart unwanted backwards momentum to cyclists? At any rate, I was happy to take a break at the trailside park in Urbana, refill my water bottle, and munch on the apple I had brought (honeycrisp, from Wilson's Orchard...mmm!).
Urbana was the "top" of the loop. It's also the place I left the trail for the road. I followed 32nd Ave (W26?) south out of town. A few miles from town, the road crosses the Cedar River. Piles of sand, mounds of brush, and tree trunks hint at the record flooding from earlier this summer, without being obvious. After a long climb (for Iowa) out of the river bottom, I passed 59th St., then turned toward Center Point on 59th St. Trail--which turned out to be unpaved. I passed 33rd Ave., briefly joined up with 33rd Ave. Drive (giving directions around there must be entertaining), and caught some sweet, sweet pavement on Lewis Access Road.
By this point, my legs were getting tired. I haven't ridden as many long rides as in past years, and I could feel a wall coming. I spun along comfortably into Center Point (yup, again) and stopped at a gas station for a source of well-balanced nutrients. Seriously, I even compared nutrition labels. The candidates? King-sized Snickers, in regular and almond. The almond won, for no particular reason. But like I said, I did compare the labels. I also discovered that Almond Snickers bars taste pretty good. In the interest of science, I will have to see how they taste when I am not craving a quick sugar boost.
The depot museum was only a few minutes from the gas station, so I swung by there for a water refill. That meant I was in the home stretch. Good thing, too, because my legs weren't too excited about the rest of the ride, especially on the crushed limestone trail. And because of union rules, that meant that other hard-working body parts (such as the ones that gently cushion most of me from seat-bounces) were allowed to complain.
With various lower-body parts complaining, the thirteen miles to Hiawatha were slower than the rest of the ride. I was able to ignore the complaining long enough to wonder why the trail was suddenly busy around Lafayette (four oncoming bikes, not together, fairly evenly spaced about a minute apart--very strange). Then the complaining started again. Honestly, toward the tail end (heh, heh) of some longer rides, I start contemplating hanging up the bike for a while. That doesn't last long. I've been back for an hour, and I'm already looking forward to riding again.
After some emergency negotiations between union and management ("Ouch! Less ouch, please!" "It's only another 20 minutes" "No, less ouch now!" "How about I throw in some pavement within five minutes?" "Deal!"), I got to the paved section of the trail, thankful for pavement and that thinking, memory, and perception are all non-union.
I had enough left in my legs to speed up to 20 along the straight, flat stretch just before home, and hold 20 until the turn. Just enough. And now it's lawn-mowing time!
Important stats:
55.74 miles in 3:32:33 (about 4 hours counting breaks). (*) (**)
1 roadkill raccoon
1 roadkill woodchuck
2 chipmunks I nearly ran over
* If the speed or distance seems low, my only bike is a mountain bike, with trail tires, one of which needs to be replaced. I'm dreaming of a nice road bike someday...
** Oh, if only I'd managed to cut off 0.19 miles and ride for another 60 seconds. Then I'd have 55.55 miles in 3:33:33. Such numeric joy, so close...
Friday, September 12, 2008
Garden-Variety Dinner
With the cooler temperatures and the rain over the past week or so, it's felt a lot more like late fall than the calendar claims. That meant dinner tonight could blend summer and fall food items, and still feel right.
In the summer, hot stick-to-your-ribs substantial food just doesn't feel right. In the fall, salads and raw vegetables lose their appeal. Tonight, we had meatloaf--a fall favorite at my house--along with an improvised salad from the garden. I picked a few green beans, pulled a carrot, and decided to pull a beet as well. The beet greens were the base of the salad. The carrots (thin-sliced) and beans went on top. On a whim, I cut the beet into chunks (about the size of canned bamboo shoot chunks) and threw that on top.
As it turned out, the beet plus the beet greens was a little too earthy. Now that I think about it, everything in the salad except for the green beans had an earthy quality. I guess that's what I get for improvising without thinking. And I even forgot the salad dressing, which may have helped. Oh well. My wife suffered through it, probably because she had meatloaf to distract her.
Dessert will also have a dash of gardeny goodness. We're going to try adding some garden mint leaves to our chocolate milkshakes. Mmmm....
In the summer, hot stick-to-your-ribs substantial food just doesn't feel right. In the fall, salads and raw vegetables lose their appeal. Tonight, we had meatloaf--a fall favorite at my house--along with an improvised salad from the garden. I picked a few green beans, pulled a carrot, and decided to pull a beet as well. The beet greens were the base of the salad. The carrots (thin-sliced) and beans went on top. On a whim, I cut the beet into chunks (about the size of canned bamboo shoot chunks) and threw that on top.
As it turned out, the beet plus the beet greens was a little too earthy. Now that I think about it, everything in the salad except for the green beans had an earthy quality. I guess that's what I get for improvising without thinking. And I even forgot the salad dressing, which may have helped. Oh well. My wife suffered through it, probably because she had meatloaf to distract her.
Dessert will also have a dash of gardeny goodness. We're going to try adding some garden mint leaves to our chocolate milkshakes. Mmmm....
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Nighttime Bike Riding
Like most people, I log most of my biking miles during the day. But sometimes, I get an excuse to ride after dark, and it's oh-so-enjoyable.
Tonight, I rode across town instead of driving, knowing that when it was time to come home, the sun would be long-down. I was looking forward to it.
Maybe riding on the road at night should be scarier. I actually like it. Cars sneaking up from behind give themselves away as their headlights drown out mine. And I suspect my lights and the motion of my reflective ankle straps makes me more noticeable than I am during the day. My legs are used to absorbing the bumps from a rough road, so the bumps I can't see until too late don't bother me much.
My favorite part, though, came when I got to the bike trail. As soon as the trail separated from the road, my headlight went off. The city light was more than enough to keep me from splashing into the overgrown pond that passes for a lake in Iowa. Not far past the lake was the nearly-straight wooded section of trail (*). It's a fast section of trail during the day. At night, with the trees blocking most of the city light, it's still fast. I love the feel of zipping along in the near-dark, legs pumping, eyes and ears searching for anything on the trail ahead.
8.5 miles; about a half hour. And about half of that was with my headlight switched off. It was great.
(*) Really, this trail seems to be an attempt to bio-diversify Iowa. Besides the lake section and wooded section, there is a prairie section, a scrub brush section, a city-lawn section... Someday, an enterprising Iowa Tourism Board official will glass the trail in, call it Biosphere 3, and wait for the tourism dollars to roll in. Hey, it beats corn!
Tonight, I rode across town instead of driving, knowing that when it was time to come home, the sun would be long-down. I was looking forward to it.
Maybe riding on the road at night should be scarier. I actually like it. Cars sneaking up from behind give themselves away as their headlights drown out mine. And I suspect my lights and the motion of my reflective ankle straps makes me more noticeable than I am during the day. My legs are used to absorbing the bumps from a rough road, so the bumps I can't see until too late don't bother me much.
My favorite part, though, came when I got to the bike trail. As soon as the trail separated from the road, my headlight went off. The city light was more than enough to keep me from splashing into the overgrown pond that passes for a lake in Iowa. Not far past the lake was the nearly-straight wooded section of trail (*). It's a fast section of trail during the day. At night, with the trees blocking most of the city light, it's still fast. I love the feel of zipping along in the near-dark, legs pumping, eyes and ears searching for anything on the trail ahead.
8.5 miles; about a half hour. And about half of that was with my headlight switched off. It was great.
(*) Really, this trail seems to be an attempt to bio-diversify Iowa. Besides the lake section and wooded section, there is a prairie section, a scrub brush section, a city-lawn section... Someday, an enterprising Iowa Tourism Board official will glass the trail in, call it Biosphere 3, and wait for the tourism dollars to roll in. Hey, it beats corn!
Red Ripe Tomatoes
It was hot out yesterday. Upper 80s, sunny, humid.
Turns out, it was perfect. Yesterday was the day for the first handful of ripe cherry tomatoes from the garden. Yesterday was the first day this year I was able to bite into a sun-warmed cherry tomato and remember why I take care of those spindly, thirsty little seedlings when it's still cold out.
My tomatoes are a bit late this year. I started the seeds plenty early, but didn't put any of the plants out before the pre-flood rain started. After the pre-flood rain started, it was weeks before the ground was dry enough to work. These plants finally made it into the garden around the start of July, which is why the very first tomatoes are finally showing up in September.
The larger tomatoes are almost ready, too. I think the furthest-along slicing tomatoes (Big Beef) are just starting to tint orange. And even though the Romas I can see out my office window are still green, there are dozens of them on just one plant.
I love the part of the year when my tomato plants are loaded down with ripe fruit, ready to pick. That's why, even though today's cooler weather (under 70, in Iowa, in early September?) feels great, part of me is wishing for yesterday's bright, hot, humid weather. The tomatoes love it.
Turns out, it was perfect. Yesterday was the day for the first handful of ripe cherry tomatoes from the garden. Yesterday was the first day this year I was able to bite into a sun-warmed cherry tomato and remember why I take care of those spindly, thirsty little seedlings when it's still cold out.
My tomatoes are a bit late this year. I started the seeds plenty early, but didn't put any of the plants out before the pre-flood rain started. After the pre-flood rain started, it was weeks before the ground was dry enough to work. These plants finally made it into the garden around the start of July, which is why the very first tomatoes are finally showing up in September.
The larger tomatoes are almost ready, too. I think the furthest-along slicing tomatoes (Big Beef) are just starting to tint orange. And even though the Romas I can see out my office window are still green, there are dozens of them on just one plant.
I love the part of the year when my tomato plants are loaded down with ripe fruit, ready to pick. That's why, even though today's cooler weather (under 70, in Iowa, in early September?) feels great, part of me is wishing for yesterday's bright, hot, humid weather. The tomatoes love it.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Marginless
I've missed living a marginal life lately.
No, wait. That means something different entirely.
Lately, I've been living without margin. More accurately, my life has filled the margin that I left. Not receiving a paycheck has eaten into my financial margin. Some caretaking at home has consumed any time and energy margin I had. And that's added up to reduce my emotional margin.
Without margin, it's harder to get through a day, let alone get through it well. When a morning with an hour's margin set aside for relaxation and methodical preparation for later activities becomes urgent last-minute errands and a just-barely-late arrival for the later activities, I arrive unfocused. I'm not fully there.
More margin isn't the answer. Even if I had decided to wake up an hour earlier this morning, the last-minute errands would still have come up at the same time. Too much margin leads to boredom and fear of committing to activities. That's just as destructive as no margin.
There doesn't have to be an answer. Yesterday and today, I have lived at the edge of the margin I gave myself. I know I can't sustain that. But having that margin has been exactly what I needed, with absolutely nothing to spare. That's what it's there for. Margin is enjoyable and comforting when things go according to plan, but it exists for those times when the best laid plans go astray.
And so I have made plans for tomorrow, hoping to accomplish all kinds of things. But whether my plans survive their encounter with reality, I am going to try to live a deliberate, significant, decidedly non-marginal life tomorrow.
No, wait. That means something different entirely.
Lately, I've been living without margin. More accurately, my life has filled the margin that I left. Not receiving a paycheck has eaten into my financial margin. Some caretaking at home has consumed any time and energy margin I had. And that's added up to reduce my emotional margin.
Without margin, it's harder to get through a day, let alone get through it well. When a morning with an hour's margin set aside for relaxation and methodical preparation for later activities becomes urgent last-minute errands and a just-barely-late arrival for the later activities, I arrive unfocused. I'm not fully there.
More margin isn't the answer. Even if I had decided to wake up an hour earlier this morning, the last-minute errands would still have come up at the same time. Too much margin leads to boredom and fear of committing to activities. That's just as destructive as no margin.
There doesn't have to be an answer. Yesterday and today, I have lived at the edge of the margin I gave myself. I know I can't sustain that. But having that margin has been exactly what I needed, with absolutely nothing to spare. That's what it's there for. Margin is enjoyable and comforting when things go according to plan, but it exists for those times when the best laid plans go astray.
And so I have made plans for tomorrow, hoping to accomplish all kinds of things. But whether my plans survive their encounter with reality, I am going to try to live a deliberate, significant, decidedly non-marginal life tomorrow.
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