The artist is named David Szauder. I find the stuff beautiful... but imagine if you lived in a world that changed like that. What could you depend on? How would you have friends? How would you live? What, even, would be the meaning of "you" or "I"?
Above, the author having better success than he ought changing a tire. Below, the impressive piece of glass that caused the offense.
I agonized about going on this ride today. In better days, this would have been an easy decision: a number of friends were going on a 30-35-mile ride, on a balmy day at the end of December, a day that was a break from gelid temperatures past and to come. But I haven't been in shape; I've been recovering from COVID and in poor mental health (as I've written), and, even though I rode with some of these folks on a towpath ride a few days ago, this was to be a longer ride, on road, and I wasn't sure I was going to keep up.
With the encouragement of The Excellent Wife (TEW), I went anyway.
We were seven, and did a route that Tom H sent along. We left from Byron Johnson park, in hopes that the toilets might be open (they weren't...).
We hadn't counted on the wind. I've since learned that the winds were 25mph gusting up to 32, and I'm here to tell you I believe it. We had a number of rides into the wind, and they were demanding (although the tailwinds were fun).
About three miles in, Heddy couldn't figure out why she was having such trouble; it turned out she had picked up that impressive piece of glass at the top of the post. I helped change the tire, and am disgustingly proud of myself that I got her Continental tire (notoriously a tight fit) off her carbon wheel (also usually a tight fit), by hand, with only a little help from a tire lever, and got the tire back on without the use of the lever at all. With the help of her CO2 system, we were back on the road quickly. There was a certain amount of banter questioning my mechanic certification, so I'll post a photo or two of it on my garage brag wall at the bottom of this post.
We didn't plan a break on this ride... but that doesn't mean we didn't take any. First, about halfway through, we passed a cow farm. On the narrow road, there was a truck stopped in front of us, and an oncoming backhoe... and on the road surface itself, about an inch of wet mud and dung from the animals. (I made a point of cleaning the bike when I got back; the shoes, however...)
Yuck.
We also decided that we needed to stop for a toilet break. Tom adjusted the route to try to find one, but two places didn't have the expected porta-potty, and some of our number ducked into Roy's as we passed.
Roy's has not been happy with bicyclists in the past, as they have made abundantly clear, and they have a sign on the door with the implication:
The last bit of the ride was a slog into the wind along Stone Tavern Road for about 3+ miles... and I just didn't have it; I bonked before the light at Old York, and, although I did get back to the car, I did so at a nearly funereal pace.
Still, I did better than I expected; were it not for the wind, I expect I would have been fine. The rest of the gang will do another ride tomorrow; I won't be recovered for that... but I expect to be able to get into condition to lead my usual rides next year (as I did not in 2024).
Two more bits of business: first, the ride page, which most of you will ignore... and second, my garage brag wall, with my mechanic certification:
In my last post, I pointed out that I was recovering from COVID, and had had a number of other difficulties and disappointments during the year; I don't even have 70% of the bike miles I could get in a year when I was working (and I've been retired for a couple years).
COVID had me pretty weak, and even after the infection passed (both times; I was one who got a Paxlovid rebound), I found that even the low exertion of household tasks (like doing the dishes) wore me out to the point I needed a nap; sometimes I was taking three naps in the same day. That, on top of my inconsistent riding performance this year, had me worried whether I'd ever be able to keep up with a group ride again.
Another leader had been dropping hints about a ride over the weekend, but I'm sure I'm not ready to keep up with that group. Tom H, however, sent out an email to some folks about a ride today, the day after Christmas, of about 20 miles on the D&R towpath. I figured I'd try that - I expected the worst that might happen is that it would be clear that I couldn't finish, and I'd turn around and go back the way I'd come. I didn't reply to his email, but I resolved to go.
I almost didn't, and I almost turned back, even when I was in the car on the way. I was sure I'd get dropped; I was sure I wouldn't be able to finish; do I even still like to ride my bike? Maybe I should just stick to mechanic work. Maybe I should give up the bike entirely.
It was cold to start; well below freezing. I have clothes for riding in this weather, but it was another reason to turn back, if I needed one.
I got to the start at Washington's Crossing, where Heddy was waiting; she emerged from her car and said she wondered if she'd overdressed. (I don't think she had done.) Moments later, Tom rolled in. I hinted at my concerns, and he hastened to assuage my worry - we would probably do fewer miles; it was straight down the towpath on the PA side, then back up the NJ side, and nobody was interested in dropping anyone. A moment later, Martin G rolled in on his mountain bike, bursting with Trenton-area history and trivia, promising a travelogue along the way. And we were off.
I hung back on the outbound trip, and for much of the way through Trenton. It became clear I wouldn't get dropped, and that I'd finish with the others. As we came north by Cadwalader Park, Martin suggested a roll though... and I got ahead of the others, partly driven by the aging man's frequent companion, a gift of urinary urgency. Martin gave a history lesson around the park, pointing out landmarks and landscape features. That was cool.
I continued to lead the group the rest of the way back, heading for the rest room. When I emerged, I didn't see any of the others - it turned out they were griffing up the mileage so they could complete annual totals (the weather through the end of the year does not look promising), they explained so when they returned a minute or two later. We said our goodbyes, and I headed out to complete an errand on the way home.
I'm tired (there is a probable nap in my immediate future), but I'm not crippled, and I did complete the ride. And I'm no longer thinking of giving up the bike entirely. I'm still not ready to do forty-mile-plus rides, but I also think they might be achievable by summer. I've got to get some fitness back, but I have hopes of being able to do so.
Maybe I'll see you on the road. I'll probably wave, and ring the bell.
Ride page (not that you're actually going to look...).
Why not? It's been too long since I posted: I haven't done a ride in forever, and I'm still recovering from COVID (I'm weak and out of condition, and afraid I'll never be able to ride with my friends again), and there's been lots of other unpleasantness*. But last year, I posted about some personal Christmas traditions, so lets do another post about that stuff, and maybe I'll start posting generally again.
Every year, I re-read Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol; I often see one of the movie adaptations, but that hasn't worked out for this year (largely because I've been too lazy to seek one). I didn't see that the Princeton Library was doing the read-along (and I couldn't get through that anyway; my declining mental health found me weeping uncontrollably about halfway through Stave Three, the Ghost of Christmas Present, the last time I went). Still, I read it myself. Since I've been through it so frequently, I find I have memorized some parts - I've been able to rattle off Scrooge's dismissal of Christmas celebrants for years:
"If I could work my will,” said Scrooge indignantly, “every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”
This time I found myself taken by Marley's Ghost's description of his business:
“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”
I may need to make a point of memorizing that one, as well.
Another one of my traditions is looking up singer-songwriter Dodie's "Christmas Songs in a Minor Key". I think she's stopped doing them (I don't see any later than two years ago), but I haven't stopped loving them. I'll post a couple of links: you'll either love them or hate them, but I'm sure you'll find 'em memorable:
*Death of a nephew, death of my brother-in-law, illness, weakness. Accepting the loss of some capabilities I once had. Some stuff that's none of your business. Drifting away from some old friends. Having some pleasant illusions sadly broken.
Still: there are blessings in life. It will not always be cold and dark; light and warmth will return. There are people who care about me. There is possibility of new opportunities and friendships. I'm not giving up yet.
Part of an email I sent to a particular friend, on dealing with Thanksgiving and Black Friday while managing COVID:
(Are we w)ell? No, we're not well... but we're better. I woke with a sore throat, which has mostly passed; we had a bunch of Black Friday chores to do this morning, and we got them all done - gas for Regina; special sale at ShopRite; sale at Talbot's for Regina; two-for-one black Friday deal at Hand & Stone massage (I'd rather have dental work than a massage, but Regina likes them, so she got the deal, and I did as well as a Christmas present for her); stop at Costco. It's been a slow afternoon, I suppose, but I did a load of laundry; cashed two checks (remote; just uploading pics from the dining room); ordered a gift card for my sister's Christmas present; paid the water bill. With all that, I'm mostly falling asleep with the computer playing videos on my lap, and I hear Regina's computer in the bedroom; I suspect she fell asleep watching something or other.
...
I'm actually glad I missed the Thanksgiving dinner; I have one sister-in-law who's well-meaning, but perseverates on her belief that all government benefits are wasted on the undeserving; another sister-in-law is (redacted). We sent most of the dinner to them (and their children and the one newly-married-in wife), and kept out a few servings of the side dishes for ourselves... and bought turkey club sandwiches to round out dinner for ourselves. We set the good china and sterling (I inherited five settings of sterling), and decided this was a really good Thanksgiving for us, COVID or no.
If we could just hang out with the younger generation of her family, and leave out my sisters-in-law (and the one Trump-y husband), it would be a much better time.
...
Thanks for checking in. We're OK; we won't starve before we can
get out to stores again... and I'm only a little sorry that I
can't go infect some people of choice wit this illness, or that it
would't be as crippling as it might be, if I did.
I expect we will look back on this holiday, and smile at each other as we do. The story may improve with age and retelling; stories often do.
In an earlier post, I wrote that I had been stricken with COVID, days before Thanksgiving; The Excellent Wife (TEW) has as well. I found it a weird concurrence to be infected weeks after Trump, who so mismanaged the pandemic in 2020, was re-elected.
The truth is that I've sought out and received every COVID vaccine that's been offered since they were first available (in fact, it was a requirement of my last job at Rutgers/UMDNJ that I do so for the first three or four). And in 2024, COVID is far less threatening or frightening than it was four years ago. (Trump, if anything, is even more frightening than he was.) Both my wife and I have started a course of Paxlovid (we are blessed with one of the best medical insurance offerings in the state of New Jersey), and, while she (as many do) is having some gastric distress as a side effect of the medication cocktail, we are finding the Paxlovid safe and effective. I had one bad day and two bad nights, and am now tired but generally improved (I am, however, producing urine such that I'm comparing myself to Moses striking the rock at Meribah in Exodus 17, producing water where there was none).
I'm in a high-risk group: men over 65 with hypertension. The high-risk-group thing appears to be far less of a concern than it once was, and there is no longer talk of "long-COVID" in these cases, or the permanent loss of taste; the doctor at the doc-in-the-box compared my case to being like flu or bronchitis (and, indeed, I've had cases of both of the latter, with much worse effects than what I'm suffering now with the COVID). Still, we're medicating, quarantining, and masking when we do have to go out, because while we have comparatively mild cases, it's not clear that people we might infect would have the same experience, especially if they either did not have access to the vaccine, or refused to take it.
(We'll not get started on the shared responsibility for the severity of illness for people who refused the vaccine.)
So my concern when I saw the deep red line on my COVID test indicating my positive result was, perhaps, unfounded. Despite it being Thanksgiving Day, I'm not ready to say I'm grateful about any of this (an omnipotent, benevolent god might have ensured that COVID never developed in the first place). But I'll admit it could have been worse, and I'm glad for my privileged position, my excellent wife, my few healthy habits.