Fourteen Days

This is apparently a newly significant span of time. 336 hours. Give or take a few. That's how long it's been between bike rides. I can't truly blame my job this time. We had another wild weather event in the Northeast US whereas it rained and thunderstormed for something like eight days in a row. There was a similar span of time prior to this that entailed eight days of 90-plus degree heat and humidity, which effectively grounded any fat tire adventures for me. I have limits.

The old local loop, AKA the backyard loop. The post-workday loop. The short loop from my garage, through the woods and back is 2.58 miles, give or take the accuracy of the Russian satellites. I had to bang some stuff out. Some mental demons, some weird thing in my thigh that made it feel like stone, which I attributed to inaction. Or a deadly blood clot. Getting older is a shitshow.

Oh, there were other adventures. There's been a few paddles, and you cannot discount their effect on the quality of life.

Delaware river with Tara

Looking north

July 13th, Tara and I put in a Friday the 13th paddle. Despite walking under ladders and owning a black cat, it was all good luck and weather. This was the final day of my staycation, which was mostly devoted to working on the teardrop camper renovation. You can see that here. Paddling was a good ending to the "work week".

We had another group paddle on July 21st with friends from the Tri-state area. The original plan was to camp overnight on the Delaware, but thunderstorms were threatening. Laziness was also threatening.

Group paddle support group

Tara in attack position

We paddled the section from Smithfield to Kittatinny, stopping at Shawnee Craft brewery for a few local beers and some small bites. I had a draft of their Mosaic IPA, which was tasy. This is becoming one of my favorite casual cruises, and you can't beat a six-pack of Apiarius to go.

Today is the last day of July, Summer is racing by. I'm hoping to rock the last official month of Summer with a rigorous schedule of rides and paddles. Sounds exhausting, but you gotta work to play.

-cheers

Peak Summer

You go outside after dark and the first thing you say is, "oof". It's still hot and humid like the inside of a damp duffel bag, and you know it's peak summer. We've arrived, folks. It's been a week of 90-degree weather, which somewhat inhibits my own riding motivation. Hey, it's a "wet heat".

Since my last post, I did manage to beat the heat and snag a few rides at Glen Park and Glen Run. I haven't rode Glen Park in 2018 yet, and it showed. Glen Park is overall pretty technical with elements wading into the downhill and North Shore BC end of the pool. A lot of its trail is pretty chunky, rooty, rocky with fall-line descents sprinkled in. The area even has wooden features to expend your Red Bull upon.

I did not ride any of those features that day a few weeks back. My tech skills are a bit rusty, I've been spending a lot of time on fairly smooth singletrack and relatively comfortable descents a la Glen Run. It's not surprising that my ride was cut short that night. It wasn't the grueling switchback climb to the top that ended me. It could have been though. No, somewhere on the first descent, I snagged my rear derailleur and brush, rocks or branches. That event managed to rotate the whole body back-and-upwards.

The ascent to do it all over again exposed serious drive train issues. I had to bail partway up the mountain, but I wasn't so sure my legs wouldn't have bailed on me rather than the derailleur anyway. I just didn't have the juice to get loose that night.

Four days later, I tested the juice again at Glen Run. We've been establishing what loosely looks like a regular crew for this ride, comprised mostly of DWG townies, some co-workers and always-welcome randos. We run into other small groups - local riders and newcomers to the mountain bike world. It's a great thing to witness. My own struggles with my particular demons any given night melt away with the realization that we're out there as a pack, my thoughts seem selfish regarding how well I'm doing out there. It just seems silly when the cameraderie and shared sweat equity kicks in.





We hit everything there was to ride, a few stretches of singletrack more than once, before the payoff descent to the trailhead. A few of us finished the ride off with beers creekside in the 'Gap. It's the customary dirtbag recovery beverage, my choice that night being a sixer of Lagunitas IPA. I eagerly look forward to the weather to chill a bit until I can churn some more dirt.

-g