Kindred

I'm nearing the end of a book called "To the Last Breathe" where the Author, Francis Slakey who is a physics professor at Georgetown University chronicles his adventures around the globe of climbing and surfing the world's oceans. The book is as much about self discovery as it is about going to physical extremes and I identify with Slakey's observations about odds and  improbability, and the realization of how so many things are entwined.

A few months ago I had made a decision to "get back" to the place I was maybe 3 years ago, where I was riding more, running more, and generally doing more. That's not to say that I had become stagnant, in fact I was probably healthier & stronger than I had been in recent memory due to a home work out routine that was all about "functional fitness" and I was committed (and still am) to the core, working out as many as 6 days a week.

This next part might be a bit confusing, but a while back I seized an opportunity that would allow me to increase my riding potential 10 fold with most if not all of my riding occurring at night in an "urban setting".

 

This opened up an entirely new chapter for me, and fanned the flames of adventure that had subsided over time.

Such is life that no sooner did I decide to document these rides, we went out on maternity leave, so the night dweller that I had become was instantly replaced with the adventure of being a  new dad.

Fast forward to this week and seizing upon my decision to "get back".  Sensing an impending head cold I loaded up the truck (in broad daylight) and headed to James River Park. I hadn't ridden there in quite a while and the combination of me being "out of the saddle" and having recently changed the gearing on the single speed made for quite a bit of "hike a bike" sections during the ride.

 

I rode the park north to south ending up at the "skills park" on Belle Island, which I have as of yet not ridden. There was a family checking it out as well, and it was cool to see kids swirling around the course.

The strangeness of Belle Island never gets old, as there was a production company filming some type of Jeep commercial on the rocks, an assortment of derelicts, and fitness minded folks all taking advantage of the fair weather.

After cruising around the top of the island I headed back to 2nd Street and as I pedaled up to my truck I noticed another vehicle with a bike rack parallel parked in front of me.

"A kindred person" I thought to myself as I got closer.

Then the familiarization hit me, inside the other vehicle was my wife and new son.

She had left much earlier in the day, and we had no intention of crossing one another's paths, yet there she was smiling at me.

"I figured you would be done around now" she said, "want to go to Hardywood and grab a beer"?

I was floored by this.

 

Even on a small scale Improbability, opportunity, and kinship are amazing things to stumble upon.             

Stephen           

Return of the trail run

On a whim we decided to strike out on a trail run late in the week, the idea actually devolved from plans of an overnight backpacking trip that became less practical as the impending weekend came into focus.

Here’s how this sort of thing plays out in our household…

It’s Friday evening and I have just jumped off of the lawn mower after getting a head start on the weekend chores and the sound of a beer cap hitting the deck is interupted by a verbalized stream of consciousness.

“Let’s go for a trail run tomorrow!!!”

Unaffected by my outburst, Ash thumbs through her cook book & without batting an eye responds with, “OK”.

She’s used to my last minute ideas and knows all too well the ridiculous things I ponder while in the “Zen” of grass cutting.

But where to run???

Ash was inclined to run the river, so James River Park was the destination of choice …

Another curious thing seems to happen when plans are made on Fridays.

Another bottle cap hit the deck as I made my standard proclamation that I wanted to be out running early…

Plans be dammed, and Friday nights forever to be the reason why, we crossed the emergency access bridge and headed down the trail at around 10:00am, certainly not the early birds who’s mission it was to get the worm…

Needless to say, by 11:00am it was getting hot, not unbearable, but a definite nod to the Virginia summer lying in wait.

As we bounded down the path we passed scores of folks out enjoying the well groomed trails of Buttermilk & North Bank under a blazing sky.

We would log 7 miles or so on the flowing single track with the hum of the Hangar 1 Vodka Blimp keeping time.

As a side note; it was the first real distance I had put on my ankle since the scope, it felt weird, a little sore, but no worse for the wear.

The "mysterious" Hangar 1 Vodka blimp hovering above