tour de franklin wrench

Today was the Tour de Franklin, the Franklin Food Bank fundraiser. I've been volunteering as a mechanic for their ride for years, and this year, I went as Ramblin' Wrench (and got a sponsorship spot!).

But rain was predicted, and, despite dry roads early, there were not a lot of riders.

They had three bikes for a raffle... and two of them were in unrideable condition, with brake binds and shifting problems. I earned my keep by getting them to work. 

There was a bike-and-helmet rental guy, who made big noises about hiring me to help when he does rentals on weekends. I'll be scouring my email to see if he contacts me... but I'm glad I'm not depending on him for income.

The volunteers were having fun, though.

 ...as was this not-quite-rained-out group at the end:

Here's hoping for a better outcome in the future for the Food Bank folks.

making a change, the semicolon tattoo, and mental health

 I've been holding this one for Mental Health Month.

This blog is one of the changes I’ve made.

 

I came to a place in life where I needed to make some big changes, and I needed to mark those changes in a definitive way. I needed a symbol. I came on the semicolon, because the semicolon is the place where the sentence changes direction.

I needed to change direction. And I needed to mark the change. 

 

I’ve never been a tattoo guy. But I took it into my head to get a semicolon tattoo, to be a mark and a reminder of the change I need to make, and to help me persist in the new direction.

Now, I research everything. So I did a quick search on semicolon tattoos. And I came on Project Semicolon. They appear to be less active now, but not many years ago, it was a project for starting conversations about suicide, among people who have been affected by it, and people who have considered or attempted.

Holy crap.

Because on March 15, 2023, at about 1:30-2:00 am, I got in the car, drove to the parking lot outside the gate of the Raritan Crossing Apartments (I didn’t know there would be a lot there), and got out of the car. The Goodkind bridges carry Route 1 over the Raritan River. The northbound bridge is named for Morris Goodkind; the southbound for his son Donald. I was doing reconnaissance on a place to end my life.

I walked out of the lot, came around a forgotten war memorial, and walked until I was on the Morris Goodkind Bridge. Before it crosses the river, the bridge crosses over a wooded, marshy land area. The drop from the bridge is certainly enough to be fatal.

Let's take just a minute to talk about suicide generally. According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), men account for 76% of suicide deaths, and there are 3.3 male suicide deaths for every female suicide death, although women make twice to three times as many attempts as men. Some of this difference is due to men choosing methods that are more likely to be fatal. I suspect, but don't have data, that another reason is that women tell people about their suicidal ideation at a higher rate than men (see the page linked earlier in this paragraph).

It's serious stuff. Now back to my recent experience.

I hadn’t planned to jump, only to get the information about where to jump. I could land in that land area and my body might be found. I got in the car and came home.

For days thereafter, the thought kept intruding in my head that there was nothing – nothing – stopping me from killing myself. I'd thought about suicide before, but I felt like something always was able to stop me... but whatever mystery or magic that was, wasn't there any more. I didn’t have an intention, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it… until I resolved to actually get the semicolon tattoo. And once I’d made the resolution, the thought passed.

I checked into tattoo establishments, found one that had a good reputation, checked with the local gods and they seemed to approve of the place. I made the appointment and got the tattoo.

 

(I write that as if it were that straightforward. It wasn't. Just entering the tattoo establishment was like entering a land of myth, a world where I don't belong. For someone else, it might just be a place to get more ink; for me, it's a place where transformations and transfigurations can happen. It borders Wonderland, and Mordor, and Eden.)

It was definitely the right thing to do (and many thanks to Rabbit's Den Tattoo in Milltown). I see the tattoo all the time, and every time I do, it’s a reminder of two things:

• It was time to make a change in my life, and I’m not to stray back from the change, and

• Suicide is not the way to deal with the stress that led to the change, or the stress that has arisen since.

It treads on the edges of mystery and magic, but it's not all-powerful. I've still got to keep my focus and maintain my disciplines. The powerful sword given to the mythical hero could just as easily be used for murder and tyranny, as for heroism and unity.

But I'm still here. And I’ll be glad to hear your story if you want.

I've long been out of the closet as a person in recovery from substance dependence, and recently came out as having mental health problems. Silence on this issue is not helpful. Minimizing the problem is not helpful. 

If you're one of us, do something.

better tire tool

 Look, nobody's gonna argue that the first thing you need to remove and mount bike tires is good tire-replacement technique, and there are those who swear that they only ever need their hands to replace tires. That's great for them, but we mere mortals sometimes need good tools to change the tires on the bike. 

Between maintaining our bikes, and replacing tires for riders on club rides, I've replaced tires hundreds of times. I have favorite tools, including some steel tire levers that are nine inches long. And sometimes, you've just gotta pull out the Kool Stop Tire Jack, even though just owning one is an admission of defeat. (I have two.)

I've just replaced the tires on both my wife's bike and mine (new front tire, front tire to rear), and I have a new favorite tire tool. The Tyre Monkey stood up and did the business.

 

 Promotional video:

I had used the Tyre Glider, which has the same theory of use, but isn't as beefy, and the slot that glides over the rim when you're using it to replace the tire isn't as wide as the one on the Tyre Monkey, and wouldn't slide on my rims. The Tyre Monkey did. 

I have one in the shop toolbox. I'm buying to more to keep in the bike bags.

I'm persuaded. And they didn't even pay me money to say this.

change in the weather

 

If you looked at the sky at the start of today's ride, you never would have thought that the day would have turned out as well as it did.

I had capped the ride at fifteen registrants, then got a request from a particular friend and raised it to sixteen... but in this morning's wet weather, I had a flurry of cancellations (and late registrations, and more cancellations), and wound up with twelve.

All of them came out, although there was some discussion about whether the rain was getting harder, and was it really gonna clear up? But Jack H noted clear sky to windward even before we left.

And by the time we made a stop at the Griggstown Causeway, the sky was already clear, as you can see in the picture at top.

We went down into Princeton, over the down-and-up of Rosedale, through ETS.

Then up the long drag of Carter and Hopewell-Princeton Road. At the St Michael's Reserve, we saw the new installation of the "Awakening" sculpture. It's worth a stop.

A stop at Boro Bean...

...and more proof of the great day that it turned into:

I had thought of cancelling, and I would have been just beside myself with frustration if I had done. All of the riders were delighted with the ride, and what the day turned into. 

I'm glad I went. Ride page.

probably shouldna sixty mile ride

 If I'm honest, I'll admit that I probably shouldn't have done this ride today. 

Laura OLPH had sent an email around earlier in the week to some of us club members, asking about doing a metric century (a 100km, 62-mile ride). Even though it's early in the season, I've been riding often (I've got over 1350 miles so far this year), and, while this would be the longest ride this year, under normal circumstances, I should have had no problem with it.

But circumstances haven't been normal (I plan to post some info about that for Mental Health Month in May). I haven't been sleeping well for a number of reasons, and my legs were sending messages that maybe they didn't have sixty miles in 'em today.

Nonetheless, I'd registered, and I'd eaten breakfast as if I was planning to ride sixty miles, so off I went to the start at Mercer Park East.

Nine of us went on the ride. There was the usual talk about who was expecting to be strong today, and who thought they would be slow, but I was fairly sure I'd be near the back.

Although my legs were undoubtedly tired, I did OK for the first third of the ride.

But then I started to flag. I slowed on the hills (I'm usually a competent climber). I was the first to ask about the rest stop, although not the only one. I let the group get ahead of me.

In some groups, this would have been an invitation to be dropped, but the motto of Laura's Hill Slugs is "friendship before speed". One of the riders made a point of checking in with me, and others dropped back to provide company as well.

I complained to fellow rider Jack H that I was too old for this. Jack gave me a lecture about not giving up to being old, He pointed out that we need to keep challenging ourselves, because it's easy to give up... but too much giving up, and eventually we're doing next to nothing. And that leads to the risk of REALLY getting old.

I got a bit of a boost when we stopped at Charleston Coffee.

Part of the recovery at the stop may have been because of this excellent antique car:

 

I got my preferred recovery drink (orange juice) and some crumb cake, and that helped for a bit, but after some miles, I slowed again.

And then I found a "second wind" and started to get my speed back... just in time to run into a street fair on the main street in Allentown:

It separated us and slowed our progress enough that Laura decided to change the route to the most direct way back. By that time, I had may wind, and was taking my turn leading the group.

So we got back. Everyone was friendly, but it was still clear to me that I'd been a drag in the middle of the ride. Another registrant had cancelled this morning... perhaps I should have taken his example. Maybe next time.

Or maybe not. I'm thinking about Jack's lecture. Maybe I keep pushing, even through the complaints.

I'm lucky to have these friends to ride with.

ride after some rain

I had a shy group today

I'd put in to list a ride with a stop at the Blawenburg Bistro, and then planned to cross the Griggstown Causeway on the way back to the start at the Claremont School. The rain yesterday meant that there was a risk that the causeway would be flooded at the time I wanted to cross, but I checked the level online this morning, and it looked like high water had crested at about seven feet. The level of "action" (which I take to mean closing the causeway) is 9.5 feet, so it looked like we'd get across with no problem, but I resolved to check the level when we got to the break, just to be sure.

I had (holy bananas!) seventeen registrants.

(I'd posted in the listing that I'd been a mess recently and could use the company. One rider mentioned that; others may have seen it and decided to come along. I was glad to have so many.)

It was grey and cold, but not as bad as the pictures make it look. We went out from Claremont and kept to a C+ pace. 

Along the way, we passed a group that included past club president Ira S, past VP Andy C, and some others I recognized.

Near the Veteran's Park:

We stopped at that Blawenburg Bistro that The Excellent Wife (TEW) and I like.

And another group with some members showed up while we were at the Bistro. So despite the weather, a number of folks went out today.

But I checked the water level at Griggstown while we were at the stop... and the crest had NOT occurred overnight. Water had continued to rise. I was afraid the causeway would be closed, and we might need pontoons and outboard motors to get across. I offered the group either going straight back over 518, or the unpleasant hill on Opossum. One voice RESOLUTELY vetoed the hill on Opossum, so we came back on 518 with the plan of turning up Canal Road.

When we got to Canal Road, we passed a "road closed" sign. I've been through flooding on Canal Road, and was concerned about that; my speed went up as I raced up to see if there was water across the road... and the group mostly kept up with me!

But on the way, we passed the group from our cub again, who had obviously gone over the section of road I was worried about. And when we got the the causeway, it was still open.

Oh, well. I make the best decision I can, with the information I have at the time.

We got back to the start, and nobody was complaining about the route change (it's rare that anybody else treats me as badly as I treat myself). One rider mentioned he'd had a great time coming up Canal Road with no traffic behind!

I need to find a way to take credit for decisions that I see as mistakes.