Riders at the start of the BBC's On Again/Off Again
I left the dark parking lot of Oregon Ridge Park having said thank you and goodbye to Andy and Rita. We had just finished the On Again/Off Again century. The sun was down and we were feeling good, hungry and ready for rest. I had suggested dinner together and we considered it. They asked if I was riding the rest of the way home and I said, "no, I'm pretty beat, I'll use the light rail". We wound up not going to dinner. It would've been nice, but it just didn't seem like the right night. Another time maybe. And, then for some reason I turned right on Ivy Hill rd instead of going straight to the light rail station on Beaver Dam.
I've mentioned here before that I find I get introspective towards the end of long rides. I can't tell you why, but the mind set is always a positive one. Usually I'm feeling appreciative of the physical world around me and if there are other riders in sight, I often admire their physical stamina and riding style. I think about the amazing magic of a modern bicycle- all those smartly placed levers, pulleys and cables easing and exerting forces on one another and the energy in and out of that system. I see my body as an equally magical secondary system interacting with the first- pressing and yielding to produce nothing more than to get back to where I started.
Ivy Hill rd is an above average climb- sharp, but short. It was, however, enough of a effort to give me the feeling I was transitioning into something new. I had thought I was just "finishing the first ride" or just "heading home", but that hill, the dark sky and the fresh air in my chest all combined to give me the feeling of a new ride begun. And, so I stopped.
Under a rare street light, I prepared for my new ride. The shirt I'd worn for the last 118 miles came off and was replaced by the shirt I'd stripped off earlier in the day. The fleece vest went back on and I felt warmth on my chest. I fished my helmet headlamp out of the bag, attached it and clicked it on. The light beam seemed strong and I pointed it straight down Jerome Jay rd. Several points of light blinked, then moved off to the left quickly. Deer. Warmer gloves went on. I checked my water bottles- both of them nearly empty. Grabbing one, I tipped my head back to squeeze the last bit of strawberry-flavored drink into my mouth and I noticed the amazing texture of stars across the sky. New ride.
From Ivy Hill, Jerome Jay rd has a gentle slope down towards a bridge over a creek. At the bridge there is a short section- wooded on both sides, that gives the eastbound rider a brief feeling of seclusion. The westbound rider wouldn't even notice it because they are most likely screaming down the last of the Jerome Jay hill. This is the hill I begin to climb. I downshift conservatively, staying seated and press hard to see what my muscles would like to contribute to the climb tonight. They seem compliant and I begin a smooth passage forward and up. I swing around the the first of several unnatural bends in the road and I'm into the meat of the hill. For at least one full mile there are no flat spots. My heart rate is going up, but I'm relaxed and managing to enjoy the few remaining slices of woods left in the neighborhood.
I think of Steve Zeldin's short BBC ride several years ago when, as a novice group rider, I cramped both hamstrings trying to shove myself up Jerome Jay. At the time, I acted the martyr and told Steve to not wait on me. He didn't take my advice, instead rolling back down the hill to my position and giving me words of encouragement. I stretched my muscles for a minute, tenderly got back on the bike and began again. Up. I watched the little logos on the back of Steve's bike shoes go up and down, forward and backward ahead of me. His seeming lack of effort while riding up that hill didn't help me, but the bobbing logos distracted me long enough to get to the flatter sections further up.
At some point Jerome Jay rd. becomes Michaelsford rd. I've never known when it does, but the rise begins to ease. The climb doesn't actually crest for another half mile though. Even so, I can feel my HR recovering and I'm still feeling relaxed. I wonder what encouragement I might've given had I been riding with my earlier hamstring-cramped self. Would I have rolled back down the hill to help? Or, would I have seen in myself signs of perseverance and self-reliance and, figuring I'd find the energy to get home, just ridden on, slipping into the dark like a deer? I don't know.
The Jerome Jay hill is behind me as I roll toward Padonia rd, brighter lights and the sounds of heavy traffic. This was by no means the steepest or longest hill I climbed today. Today's century ride was a hilly one- 8,000-9,000ft of ascent. Somehow though, my ride up Jerome Jay, alone, in the dark and after a satisfying 100+ miles was the most meaningful. It was filled with appreciation.
Padonia, leads me to my very last turn- a left onto Falls rd, the road I live on. However, there are still several more miles left to this second ride of the day. The long fast descent past St. Paul's School, the bridge over the traffic choked Baltimore beltway, Joe's bike shop and Mt. Washington, through the Falls/Northern Pkwy intersection (one of the deadliest in the city), past the beautiful homes of Roland Park, the road surface gets ever worse and the houses closer together. I roll into Baltimore city and Hampden. There's a sub shop on the corner where I order my dinner. The line cook gets the order wrong, but the woman at the counter scolds him and makes him remake it for me. I appreciate that.
Pictures from the BBC ride On Again/Off Again:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27976837@N00/sets/72157622812206970/
