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           

Twilight

I try to take the camera with me as much as possible. 

That being said, my rides, runs and physically oriented activities are just that; a way to stay in shape as a way to beat age off with a stick, and as a way for me to release any pent up anger, anxiety, or other rogue emotion that may surface during the course of a week. 

So when I ride, as with anyone who rides or runs, I develop a flow which I have spoken about in past posts.  

This “flow” is almost indefinable but can be described as a feeling of everything making sense, working together, and being in sync.

A camera can capture amazing things, and anyone who wanders through the woods knows the incredible sights that you can stumble upon.

As such these two disciplines collide because when you’re in that sweet spot, that moment of physical exertion that washes away the day it is quite difficult to stop and take a picture. 

So when I have a “Wow” moment on the trail I’m conflicted with being in that moment, or trying to capture it on film, which is a large part if not the entire point of this blog and more importantly the memories that drive it.

So the struggle continues, while in the meantime the leaves change color, the sky grows darker more quickly, and the air develops a certain “nip” that you can only experience 

in the moment…

Caught in a moment of twilight on the trail 

Autumn...

October gave a party; the leaves by hundreds came-The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples, and leaves of every name. The Sunshine spread a carpet, and everything was grand, Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind the band.  

                                                                                                                           ~George Cooper

As the days grow shorter and the air begins to chill; we climb obscured paths up ever changing hills

 

Of trails cloaked by thoughts; in hues of crimson, rust and gold, summer’s fleeting warmth yields to an impending winter’s cold.

 The seasons change with authority, in splendor they prevail, just beyond the mountain’s mist under autumn’s starry veil.    

      

~October rides require post-ride seasonal libations~ 

A "true to form" Oktoberfest brew; 

Munich Germany's own  

Paulaner Oktoberfest Märzen

Brought to you by Wine & Beer Westpark, craft beer and wines without the pretentiousness 

Point of View

I present for your viewing pleasure my first attempt at making a video

More to come as I’m planning on upping my saddle time and reducing my “talking about riding” time with the new schedule…

Groovy

Single Speed Blues

A quick history first;

The very same week that I was cleared by my ankle surgeon to ride my bike, a funny thing happened…

A “reoccurring” friend of mine decided to show up, a “friend” that had put me in the hospital on two previous occasions in the past.

Sooooo;

- The week that I was cleared to ride my bike…

-I lost the ability to ride my bike...

Ironic

Fast forward through five months of repeated Doctor visits and countless medications to today…

Blurry as it goes, I lost my footing as I snapped the pic of my bike

Today was the first time that I have legitimately ridden my single speed since January 5, 2011.

A recap of the ride would look something like this;

6 miles of;

 -Picking the wrong lines

-Pushing up several switchbacks that I used to clean

-Hitting a section of slick roots and spinning just long enough to realize that I was going over the handle bars.

Awkward to say the least


I had just rode past 2 fawns when I saw this guy in the stream 

 But at least I was riding…

And as I pedaled through the pine forest the conversation with my Doc became crystal clear in my mind.

“Can I ride”?

“Do you want to get better”?

‘Nuff said…

So, I rode, and I will ride again, and at the risk of sounding over dramatic it will probably land me back in the hospital as well, but it is where I dwell, and I can be no other place.

Ankle Arthroscopy (The Finale)

This will probably be anticlimactic for most people, but I thought it was cool enough to warrant one last post.

After 9 weeks into the adventure of my ankle Arthroscopy, I had my final follow up visit with my Surgeon on Thursday.

Because of my almost monk like devotion to my physical therapy I have regained a significant amount of range of motion in my big toe and ankle.

One of the other options would be to fuse the entire joint together, for whatever reason anytime I hear the word “fuse” combined with any body part I cringe. (No thanks)

9 weeks is not the end of the road for the procedure either.

The Doc explained that it would take an additional 2 to3 months for full recovery which for me would mean that I could go out and run maybe 5 to 7 miles without issues.

He also gave me his blessing to begin running again, which was what I had been waiting 9 weeks to hear.

His only caveat was that I could run for about….wait for it…..10 whole minutes.

I got home from work, grabbed the dogs and the wife, and went for a half mile jog in the middle of a killer rain storm on the trails at the house.

It was awesome.(I had very little swelling afterwards which the Doctor said was normal).

Probably the coolest part of my final visit was that it turns out my Surgeon is also an avid mountain biker, so he hooked me up with his email and were going to try and schedule a ride.

The fact that the guy who did my surgery understands riding and probably has some level of love for the sport, gave me a sense of kinship throughout the process and speaks volumes in my mind to his character.

It’s pretty wild how things work out…

Steve

Winter Wonderland

Rolling into the parking lot of what has become my “go to” place to ride and run, my mind was filled with a sense of wild expectations. The last two weeks were filled with obligatory 5:00 am wake up calls and very little personal time. While I absolutely loved what I was learning and doing for the past few weeks, my riding had to take a back seat, that’s just the way the hand was dealt.

So the fact that I was going for a ride at all was awesome, the fact that the ride was going to be in the snow was even wilder.

I don’t run snow tires; in fact I don’t change a thing. (Sometimes when you sweat the details you miss the point entirely).

The trail was a mix of crunchy fallen leaves, frozen loam, and icy turns where the sun had yet to reach, the well trodden paths were clear, but a quick flick of the bars took me to a few spots where the knobs of tires had yet to leave their mark.

After an hour of “hike a bikes” up the steeper sections and slip and slides back down I was ready to call it a day.

What type of dinner is fit for a post winter ride?

 It’s never too cold for grilling out, (as long as you have a good down jacket) and our decision for a Sunday night seafood extravaganza let me run wild with my faithful Weber.

I roasted freshly chopped garlic in olive oil then mixed it with sriracha, which was drizzled over the gulf shrimp with pepper and basil.

Add a pound of scallops with sea salt and pepper to the mix, and it was a perfect grilled compliment to Ash’s Coconut Curry Mussels.

                                                         A great way to start the week.

Walnut Creek

The idea was born early on in the week; we would go somewhere different, unique, a departure from the normal “Tri-Cities area” ebb and flow.

After the slug fest that was to be a Monday through Friday knockdown, drag out, kick in the ....well you get the idea, we stuck to our guns.

After dinner Friday night we loaded the 4-Runner with the bikes and come Saturday morning, we were pointed down 64 towards Charlottesville.

We rolled into Walnut Creek in Albemarle County about 50 minutes later...


View from one of the numerous "Frisbee" Golf holes


Map of the ride


Ash on the tilt


Short rock garden at the end of a fun down hill section


Bridge over murky water


Right after I took this photo a troll chased us up the hill throwing mushrooms and shouting obscenities


Back to your roots; I only have one wisdom tooth and it's trying to come in,(true story)


Single track flow


Echos of our Ancestors...

Flow

In cadence we pedal, drifting in and out of the turns, the sound of near silence is deafening in its own right, breath and body in accord, we spin through the switchbacks setting the tire on the perfect line as we pass between the trees.
A hint of dew brushes my arm as we weave through the pine needles, a fawn, brown and white speckled, joins us for a moment before darting into the camouflage.Even the hills are obliged to let us climb up and over, on and on, down the trail we flow.




After ride eats;

Marinated Flank Steak Omelet with mushrooms


Grilled Mussels with red & green peppers, onions, and garlic in a Guinness broth.


Trifecta


Highland Brewing Co St. Terese's pale ale: 66%
Terrapin Beer Co Hop Karma Brown IPA: 92%
Troegs Pale Ale: 93%
(ratings at ratebeer respectively)

A hazy shade of single track

I was out the door and on the road by 5:30am, and as the 4-Runner’s tires rhythmically hummed down the highway I tried in vane to shake the cobwebs from the night before and wondered what was driving my inability to wake up for the morning commute downtown.

Just as I hit the interchange from I-64 to I-95 the unmistakable thumping of Peter Criss’drum beats began resonating in the speakers and the volume knob immediately got dumped to the right.

“I love it loud” by KISS and with it came a flood of imaginary coolness that I couldn’t possibly ever hope to achieve, yet while in the throngs of the moment, I was indeed transformed into one cool mofo.



I parked inside of the depressingly drab gray deck at work and its empty walls echoed as I rolled down the ramp to the street below.

After a few blocks of asphalt and concrete I was coasting down hill on 2nd Street to pick up the trails off of Tredegar, and as I lined up to slip down the grass hill a female runner who was moving in the opposite direction muttered what I believe was the phrase “Hoo-hah” as we passed.

It was then that the morning haze gave way to a much larger intramural group of exercise enthusiast as they “Hoo-hah’ed” along the way.

I managed to slide by the masses and across the Belle Isle foot bridge so that I could pick up Buttermilk trail and do a loop back to North bank.

The bike squeezed down the narrow path adjacent to the CSX fence and I came in contact with a young guy at the base of the concrete stairwell who was clearly out of sorts as he stared blankly at the graffiti laden walls of the stairs.

“Zombies” I thought, as I continued down the gravel road.

I drifted deeper down Buttermilk as the canopy of trees filtered slivers of morning light onto the trail casting strange obscure shadows on the roots and rocks.

Any hopes I had of making the loop clean dissolved as I made repeated errors on sections that I simply refused to commit to.

The trails at JRPS are something to see if you have never bothered to wander downtown around the river, and the trail crews have done and continue to do some amazing things with the trail system.




North bank dumped me out under the Lee Bridge and I made the climb back to work amongst the droves of people slowly meandering along the way in traffic

Moving On

Anyone who rides, and who has put in more “sweat equity” than most, have come to the same cross roads at some point in their life.

It’s the time when that once magnificent build that you poured your heart and soul into creating has simply ran its course, and although you have held on through the years and been its faithful companion, you realize that it’s time to say goodbye...

Everyone has their individual reasons why, and while I hope that it’s not because of the idea that “all that glitters is gold” and the bombardment of newer, better, plusher and faster, the decision to move on has been made none the less, and to each their own.

My decision to retire my 2003 Rocky Mountain Slayer is quite simple in that respect, and it boils down to the fact that I don’t enjoy it as much as I once did.

Simple right?

The saving grace is that my Salsa single speed, “Selma” has given me something to grin about in the short time that I have had her, and while I can’t put my finger on the exact reason “why” I know that now is the time to let go of one while embracing the other.

While I realize that it’s just a bike, anyone who has made the same decision also knows that it’s so much more.

The final ride was short but sweet, and the ribbons of sweat that poured down my face were a visible cue that the last ride wouldn’t be what the bike deserved, but that it was all that I could give.







And so it goes,
But never say that they don’t have soul...

* (What's a ride without lunch? Grilled kabobs with turkey sausage, chicken, pineapple, peppers, onions, and tomatoes).

Ride...Eat...Repeat

Think of this as a recap of sorts, (some weeks are easier than others to sit down and post.)

My schedule at work can be “challenging” at times and we typically flex what we cook to accommodate those unforeseen changes. That being said, we were both feeling pizza about mid week.



Ash made the dough from scratch using white wheat, with turkey “pepperoni” to top it off.

Friday was another chance to get creative in the kitchen, and I came home from my evening ride to find six frosty soldiers in the fridge.


Stoudts American Pale Ale out of Adamstown PA. It has an 89 overall user rating over at “ratebeer” and is an excellent Pale.




Dinner started with an appetizer of clams in a Spanish style broth of roasted red peppers and paprika, with an entree of trout fillets and grilled sea scallops with a side of baked rutabaga fries.

I logged 3 rides for a total of around 25 miles staying well away from one of our premier trail systems which was host to the “Xterra” East Coast championships over the weekend.Some of the locals raced, and hats off to those guys because RVA weather was brutal this weekend.


As I was thrashing about at the farm a good sized barred owl swooped into view and glided down the trail coming to rest on a branch high above the single track. Predatory birds are amazing creatures to watch as you can almost see the confidence in their eyes as they sit comfortably at the top of their food chain.


Saturday morning saw me back on the lake with the same luck as previous weeks, but fishing will teach you patience if nothing else.




We’re going to round out the weekend with a “Father’s Day” lunch.
On the menu:
Grilled flank steak with corn, tomato and asparagus relish
Barbecue chicken wings
Country style pork ribs in an apple jelly barbecue glaze
With handmade oatmeal nut fruit tarts for dessert

Riders on the storm

So I'm running down I-95 on my way to Poor Farm and Ash gives me the news...
A good size thunderstorm is bearing down on the area, and the estimate is that the "farm" is going to get pummeled around 6:30pm.

My first thought was "I wish I had brought my camera, I bet I could get some choice storm shots".

My next thought was, "I hope I get some riding on before the storm rolls in".

35 minutes into the ride, the hot, sticky Virginia weather took a dramatic turn,
the trees started swaying in unison and the wind whipped onto the trail as the sky grew darker.

My thoughts turned to "Hell yeah, the ride might be short, but I'm in for an interesting evening".

I pulled out of the woods and across the lot to meet another rider as he appeared out of the trail with similar thoughts on his mind.

After a short exchange of "what da ya thinks", and amateur weather forecasting, we both made the decision to go our separate ways and try and get one last loop in...

We returned to our cars within minutes of one another, and as we were throwing our gear back into our vehicles the first rain drops started to fall from the impending front.

My truck passed in and out of heavy rain squalls as I weaved my way back home, and as I wobbled into the house feeling the ride in my legs, there was Ash waiting with a steaming hot dutch oven with some tasty vittles inside.



Mussels, shrimp, and crayfish tossed over whole wheat linguine in a tomato sauce.

Something she had "whipped up" for sure...

* On a side note; As I was typing this post round two of the storms showed up, and they are truly awe inspiring.

Weekends past...

Last weekend started with a great deal of anticipation and excitement because a three day break was just what I needed to get re-centered.

The theme was to be festive, grilling out and enjoying the company.

The first order of business was to decide what ales would best suit a warm sun kissed holiday.



The selection was a combination of Pale Ales from American Pales to India Pales & I was not left disappointed.

Pictured from left to right;
Dogfish Head 60 minute IPA (Delaware)
Left Hand "JuJu" (Colorado)
Legend's Pale Ale (Virginia)
New Holland India Pale Ale (Michigan)
Check out their reviews and descritpions at ratebeer.com (link to the side)-->

Ash always has ideas for recipes swirling around in her head, and what she creates rivals restaurants that have three $$$ hanging out behind their name.



Saturday night we did calamari three different ways; grilled, pan seared,and lightly breaded and fried.(the typical order at your local eatery is usually battered fried with a heavy dipping sauce) my suggestion, buy some..take it home...cook it up for a healthy alternative.The squid was complimented by grilled jumbo shrimp,making a phenomenal dinner.

Sunday morning I took the helm and knocked out some mushroom, red pepper, and onion omelets topped with jalapeno salsa and goat feta cheese. The eggs were accompanied by a side of thick cut pepper bacon.



Sunday evening Ash whipped up grilled chicken with a homemade cranberry barbecue sauce, homemade bourbon baked beans, with a side of grilled squash and zucchini.



Ridiculous...

We ended the weekend with a quick jaunt out at Poor Farm Park.
The temps were toasty, but the flora and fauna gave us a reprieve from the heat and we had a good time taking in the single track.



Reflective Ash pondering the yin & yang of the universe...or just looking for snakes.





Good weekends fuel good weeks...