The Road Not Taken

20 Oct 2010 Leave a comment

by rendezvouswithsneakers in cycling Tags: ,

I’m continuously amazed by the beauty of this area. There’s nothing like riding solo on back country roads, like the road below. Just you and nature. No cars to be seen. The gentle rustle of leaves, chirping of birds, whistle of the breeze. Worries fade; your senses heighten. Surrounded by trees speckled in gold, auburn, and crimson. A perfect moment in time.

Reminded me of Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Little Tumble

09 Oct 2010 Leave a comment

by rendezvouswithsneakers in cycling Tags: , ,

Every cyclist has a time where he/she comes into very close, personal contact with the surface they are riding on. I’ve had a couple of falls as of late–all of which I blame on my cycling shoes–but as much as I would like to blame my fall yesterday on my shoes, they were not at fault. This time it was completely due to a silly driver, my poor coordination and clumsiness…And a tree branch.

After a horrible couple of weeks, I decided my bike needed some love and attention, so I went for a bike ride. What better way to spend a Friday afternoon, especially when you’ve been trapped inside for what seems to have been years? I figured, short spin through Dutchess County, never hurt anyone.

Contrary to what other people I cycle with think–I err on the side of being indecisive on where go, as I’m riding–I do go out with a vague idea of where I want to when I head out. My route may change about twenty times on that ride, but I generally end up where I planned. Yesterday though, my indecisiveness had taken over and I could not decide where I wanted to go. I made it to Red Hook but then was at a loss of which direction to take — do I go over to Bard? I was just over that way last week. Maybe head north? No, it’ll be dark soon.

Since I could not decide, I ended up doing a couple of circles around the quaint little town. As I was approaching the main intersection on my second loop, a car door opened–which I was not expecting. I steered out of the way quickly in time to avoid a collision with the driver, only to lose my balance and fall over after trying to avoid a large branch-one I swear was not there before.

I know every cyclist needs to be aware of drivers opening doors. And since I’ve been riding I have never had the issue of near-collisions.

Alas, I guess every cyclist also needs to have near-misses with door-opening fools in a high traffic areas on Friday afternoons.

Falls happen when you are least expecting them to happen. It’s a whirlwind experience–you are on your bike one second, clipped in, and then next, boom, are on the ground. I must say, I’ve never unclipped from my pedals with such ease and speed before. Why couldn’t I do that during my last race?

Of course, the first thing I think of after falling is, “Ohh crap is my bike damaged?” Not, “Ohh, thank God I didn’t fall into on-coming traffic and die.” Yes, you know what my priorities are.

It just so happened that a Dutchess County Sheriff I passed (twice, might I add) was parked on the other side of the street and came to my rescue.

“Are you okay ma’am?”

I gazed up at the officer after making sure my bike was intact (again, a normal person might make sure their limbs are intact). Am I old enough to be called ma’am?

I’m not sure if it was the startle from falling, or the fact that I realized he was somewhat good-looking, made my usual mute-self even more speechless.

“I’m going to call–”

“No, no, I’m fine.” I interrupted him.

“You’re bleeding.” Now nick-named ‘Mr-Really-Attractive-Officer’  pointed to my leg. I glanced at my shin which had a stream of blood trickling down. Damn you, chainrings! Why must you be so sharp?!?

“Ahh.”

I picked up my bike and hobbled over to the curb where I crouched down, leaning my bike up against my knees (no one is allowed to lean my bike against the pavement) and took a closer look at my pathetic wound. Mr. Attractive actually stopped traffic, and picked up my water bottle. He also took my bike and leaned it against a tree before kneeling in front of me to take a better look at my leg.

There I was sitting on the curb: sweaty, bloody, greasy, exhausted, sporting a jersey and spandex cycling shorts, and becoming more and more aware of my appearance. Is this really happening to me?

Why wouldn’t it?My life is a comedy, remember?

“I’m okay,” I muttered and took a used tissue from my jersey pocket and started wiping away the blood.

“Hold on–” he held up his finger and then ran back to his car.  I could feel my cheeks becoming flushed and warm with embarrassment. As he left for a minute, I poured some water out of my bottle, wet the tissue a little, and went to work on my leg, thinking, all I wanted to do was go for a ride.

The officer came back from across the street and handed me tape and gauze,”Here, use this.”

“Who has gauze and tape?” I was not blessed with the ability to make small talk with attractive people, can you tell?

“First Aid kit, and I was a paramedic.”

Ohh Lord, Mr. Really Attractive fights crime and has dabbled in the medical field? I was crying inside.

“Thanks.” I took the supplies from his hand, ripped a piece of tape, slapped the gauze on and stood up, still silently hoping this was all a dream.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” he took my bike and handed it to me.

And so, I was off again–all fixed, having attracted the attention of the drivers in a small town, being saved by a kind D.Co Sheriff, and learning the lesson that you are never fully prepared to fall off your bike.

Shortcut

21 Sep 2010 Leave a comment

by rendezvouswithsneakers in cycling Tags: ,

I’ve always wanted to ride from Rhinebeck to New Paltz, and I woke up to find blue, cloudless sky and thought my day off would be the perfect day for the ride.

It was a gorgeous, almost-autumn day– warm, and a little windy at times, but a bearable windy. I decided that I’d give myself an hour and a half to get to New Paltz, where I would meet up with my friend. That would give me plenty of time to get there.

I had looked at a map before my ride to make sure I knew where I was going. One would think, after living in New Paltz for a year, and my constant back-and-forths to Rhinebeck, I would know where I am going. And, I did. But this was different, as I would not be driving a car nor going on the highway.My plan was to go through East Kingston down to Rondout, over through Rifton, and eventually make my way to Rt 32, to bring me into New Paltz.

Looking back at Rondout

I found out the hard way that East Kingston has many “dead end” streets. But made it to Rondout. Making my way down Abeel street I could not help but notice an old New York Floating Hospital. This hospital, as I found out later, still serves the homeless population down in New York City.

The floating hospital

The ride was going well, not too difficult, and the weather was perfect. I passed through Rifton, and decided to take a short cut to New Paltz, which would be quicker than going all the way to Rt 32. I knew I would have to go uphill, but that did not bother me, as I’d stay on the ridge, and my apartment in New Paltz is somewhat on a hill.

The first mile of the incline was not bothersome. But, after six miles of going uphill, my thighs were burning, my lungs felt like they were on fire, and my breathing was labored times three. I kept thinking, “what goes up must come down.” Eventually, the incline turned into a sharp downhill which intersected with North Ohioville. I would be a little late, but was almost there.

As I was approaching the intersection, about to stop and concentrated on unclipping my left foot to keep my right foot clipped in, I noticed a firehouse on my right. And that’s when it dawned on me– there is no firehouse on North Ohioville. I stopped and looked straight ahead to a sign: “Rt 9W.” Ohh crap (maybe what I really thought is not appropriate to write). If you are familiar with the area, you know that 9W parallels the Hudson River…And is not close to New Paltz at all.

My route

My shortcut was no shortcut. In fact, it brought me further away from where I wanted to get to. So, I was a little annoyed, and going to be a little late. I never realized heading south on 9W, that it is rather a hilly road. My legs were mad at me, and I had run out of water. But, I had to get to New Paltz.

Finally, my 15 mile “shortcut” brought me to where I wanted to be. From now on, I’ll be steering clear of shortcuts of any kind.

Cycling Inspiration

16 Sep 2010 Leave a comment

by rendezvouswithsneakers in cycling Tags: ,

Peace, love, and Iced Coffee

02 Sep 2010 Leave a comment

by rendezvouswithsneakers in All Others, cycling Tags: , ,

Modern day hippie

Yesterday I went out on ride, determined to get to Woodstock from where I live. In the past, I have driven to Woodstock, and have ridden my bike up close to Woodstock, but never actually made it into the small, quirky town in upstate New York, where time seems to have stopped in 1969.

I actually wrote yesterday about this trip, so I will not be redundant about my navigation skills. But eventually, I found my way to Woodstock, New York, where shops are cluttered with old black and white photographs of famous musicians from the ’60’s, tie-dyed shirts flutter in the wind, and people sit on the corner shirtless and play the drums once a day.

I set out for a goal, and that was to get to Woodstock. There’s some great riding up there in the Catskills if you like lots of hills. But after being lost in Saugerties (I know, who gets lost in such a small town?), riding in 95 degree heat and the sun blazing down on you, I was not to thrilled about these rolling hills. And for some reason, the shade from the trees was on the other side of the road that I was riding on.

Despite my silent groans, I wanted to get to Woodstock…Not only to sit and people watch for a bit, which is an activity I often do when I go to that town…But more importantly, so that I could get some coffee. Iced Coffee.

Ahh, after I don’t know how long of going up and down and dehydration and getting lost, I made it, and rode right up to Bread Alone Bakery for that glorious, burnt sepia colored liquid gold–aka Iced Coffee. As a rule, I always carry a couple of dollars whenever I go riding incase something happens (and $2 will magically fix everything, ofcourse), and when I entered the town, my two wrinkled, sweat-soaked dollar bills were taken out from their hiding place under the sole of my shoe and used to buy this beverage. God bless the barista for accepting my drenched dough. If you are in Woodstock, NY, Bread Alone has some pretty tasty Iced Coffee.

After adding just enough soy milk to raise the coffee to the brim of the plastic cup, swirling the liquid with my straw, I took it and went outside to sit on the curb (I would have sat inside in some air conditioning, but was afraid someone would steal my bike) and enjoy my “emergency” beverage for a few minutes.

Two gulps later, ice cubes remained in the bottom of the cup, and I had a brain freeze from chugging the cold liquid. I guess my attempt to savor one of the best beverages ever known to man went down the drain with my thirst.

Alas, the sharp pain to my brain was totally worth it.

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