A new ruling on the Dreariness Convention

Today was not another of the days from the end of August that we have been experiencing lately. Today the temperature returned to more or less normal and the look was distinctly November. Today was dreary. It was so dreary that I may have even said to TOPWLH that I was going to pass on a bicycle ride, "Too dreary".

When I stopped going to work lots of people who were making polite conversation and also lots of people who were genuinely interested asked me what was I going to do now. I mostly replied that I didn't have specific plans, I do not. But I usually added that I definitely did intend to reverse the part of my life that found me marooned for too many days of the year on the fourth floor of a building with windows that do not open. I told people that I intended to be outdoors for at least one hour every day for at least a year.

A little after noon I was trying to decide how to act on this promise I have made to myself. Perhaps a nice long walk would be just the thing, I thought. It rather quickly occurred to me that my best option for spending some time outdoors while getting some useful exercise was my bicycle. There is no bad weather, there is only inadequate gear. I have adequate gear.

Bingo, off I went.

But it WAS dreary. The only distinct color on such a dreary day is gray. Gray doesn't photograph well. I got a couple of pictures anyway. I won't be ranting about the condition of Fernwood anymore.Brand new, really smooth, really nice pavement all the way from Larpenteur to Roselawn. This view is from Garden, looking north to Roselawn.

And the library, I rode past the library construction project. Construction photos don't require a lot of contrast.What I originally understood to be an addition to the existing library is now fairly clearly a complete rebuild almost from bare structural steel. As is the case at Dead Man's Curve, there are lots of interesting looking construction toys here, too.

As often seems to be the case when I have to convince myself to ride, today I was strong. Riding when I feel strong is when I enjoy the ride the most. Today I was really strong.

For example, on the uphill from County Road B2 past the golf course to the top of the overpass of Highway 36, a spot where I am often in the small ring in front and moved down a couple of gears in the back to something like a 39x19, working hard, climbing. Today I charged over that thing in a power sprint in the 53x17. For mathematicians in the crowd that's a 3 instead of a 2. And this was after I had already ridden nearly 20 miles, I felt strong.

I was extremely glad to be out there, clearly it was a wonderful day for a ride and I enjoyed it immensely.

This leads to a new ruling on the Dreariness Convention: It is: "Mere dreariness is very clearly not a sufficient reason in and of itself to forego a bicycle ride on an otherwise rideable day."

The only person who rides with me on my home turf with any regularity will know that there are several places on my regular routes where I like to sprint. These are generally false flats, places where after a downhill the road has actually turned uphill but because of the momentum off the downhill it is possible to maintain a rate of speed which seems way out of proportion to what I (and she) can clearly recognize as an actual uphill. Most notable are the railroad underpass on Rice Street from 694 headed south, Hamline from Roselawn headed towards Larpenteur, and Cleveland from Larpenteur headed to Roselawn. These are all uphills and I dead sprint them all. Another that I sprint when I feel strong is Roselawn from Fairview to Cleveland.

As I neared home today I was spinning out after a, for me, monster sprint on Hamline. I crossed Snelling and headed down the service road to Roselawn. The light was green for the Roselawn traffic so I had to stop before crossing Roselawn and starting west on the way home. I wanted a couple more miles than I was going to get if I went straight home so I was spinning along making my route decisions. I decided to follow Roselawn all the way to Cleveland and then ride the loop through the neighborhoods that would take me home.

Just at this moment a kid on a road bike blew past me, riding in the drops, deep into a sprint. I had just lost another race.

Of course, it isn't much of a race if only one person knows it is a race. I lose lots of races, I don't mind, mostly I lose to people who are racing me when I am not racing them but who, even if I knew it was a race, would still probably dust me off. Many of them are young, I am, after all, old.

The funny thing is every year I win a couple. Today I won one.

We were on the downhill run from Snelling towards Fairview. About half of the way along that half-mile stretch the road turns back slightly uphill, a false flat. I only had a couple of miles to go before I was home, I always intended to hammer. I felt good today, I felt really strong.

So the kid had dead sprinted the downhill and had me by about a block when I clicked up to the big ring and started to ride purposefully for home. I intended to ride hard all the way to Cleveland. As I neared Fairview I looked up and noticed that the uphill had caused the kid to slow considerably. I was closing in.

Well, I didn't think I would catch him but the road gets a little bit more uphill after Fairview as it passes Prior and he wasn't going very fast any more. I love the false flats, I was in the big ring, going what is for me, pretty fast.

I thought about breaking it off, it is such a cheap victory, winning a race when the other racer doesn't realize it is a race. But, on the other hand, the kid had just done it to me. We were just riding his race, I kept the hammer down.

He heard me coming, maybe I should oil my chain. He turned his head and looked me full in the face. The chagrin on his face was exquisite as he realized (a) that I am unmistakeably old and (b) that I was about to blow his doors off.

I felt strong, I felt fast.