Am I Normal Yet?

Public figures and everyday people talk about the world or their lives "returning to normal" once Mango* Mussolini is out of the White House or "when the pandemic is over."  Of course, the new "normal" is never the same as the old "normal;" it never can be.  When our routines or the machinations of society are disrupted, things change and we, hopefully, learn.

Even with this knowledge, however, I am going to give in to the temptation to say that something in my life might be returning to normal.  Yesterday and the day before, I did something I hadn't done since I was "doored" in October:  On Saturday, I pedaled up to Connecticut; on Sunday, I rode to Point Lookout.

The Saturday trek was my standard route to the Greenwich Common via Glenville Road, about 140 kilometers (85 miles) round-trip.  As I hadn't done the ride in about three months, I actually wondered whether I'd get up the last climb on the ridge, just after I crossed the state line.  But partway up, I realized that I was fighting not only "rust," but also a headwind.  

The last time I saw the Common, leaves were turning red and gold and orange.  On Saturday, bare trees bore witness to the cold and wind through which I'd pedaled.

On my way home, I felt ready to challenge Jeanne Longo, Rebecca Twigg and Missy Giove in their prime.  Pedaling downhill with the wind at your back can make you feel that way!

Yesterday's ride took me to the South Shore of Queens and Nassau County, through the Rockaways and Atlantic Beach to Point Lookout.  Under a clear, bright sky, the water barely rippled.  And, in contrast to Saturday's ride, this one is flat, and I encountered barely a breeze on the 120 km (72 mile) round trip.

In late summer or early fall, when I'd normally have pedaled a lot of miles, the Point Lookout jaunt would be a "recovery" ride if I did it the day after a Connecticut ride.  But it seems odd to call it a "recovery" ride when the past three months have been a time of recovery for me!

One thing I couldn't help but to notice was how little traffic, motorized or otherwise, I encountered on both rides.  I guess the cold kept people in their homes in spite of the bright sunshine.

In case you were wondering:  I rode Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special, to Connecticut and Zebbie, my 1984 Mercian King of Mercia, to Point Lookout.  Being able to do those rides again was enough to make me feel good, but being on bikes that look and ride the way they do made me feel even better.

Things may not be "normal" yet.  But at least one part of my life is getting there, I hope!

*--I feel guilty about equating  a mango, a fruit that brings nothing but pleasure to those who eat it, to someone who's slammed democracy and people's lives with a baseball bat.

A "Mean Girls Clique"?

I wandered lonely as a cloud

Even if he'd never written another line--or if everything else he wrote had "moon" and "June" rhymes--William Wordsworth would be rightly celebrated as one of the great English poets.  Besides, with an name like that, he really couldn't be anything but a writer of some sort!

Anyway, we all know that clouds don't get lonely. (Or do they? ;-))  But nobody ever went to Wordsworth for a police report because he had what we call "poetic license."

I'm going to borrow it for a moment.  Yesterday, I took a ride to Connecticut.  At the Greenwich Common memorial, I saw this:

Does that vermillion-ish red flower feel lonely next to that sea of pink?  She's on the outside, after all!

And if she feels lonely, does that mean those pink tulips are the "mean girls clique"?

Back To A Familiar Light

Yesterday I pedaled the 140 km to and from my apartment and Greenwich, Connecticut.  Although it's the longest ride I've done in three weeks, it actually seemed almost easy, even when I was climbing the ridge at the state line.  

One reason for that, of course, is that I was riding one of my own bikes:  Dee Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.  Plus, although the day was warm, it wasn't nearly as hot--or humid--as what I experienced in Cambodia and Laos.  

Even more to the point, the sun was much less intense.  I didn't think of it until I got to Greenwich and sat in the Common, by the Veterans' memorial.  Normally, I wear sunglasses any time I'm outdoors:  something my opthamologist recommends.  But, as I was sitting on that bench in the Common, I took off my shades.  The green of the leaves, and the pinks, purples, yellows, oranges and other hues of the flowers seemed soft, almost cool.

Not only did I have to remind myself to wear my shades, I also had to remember to put on some sunscreen.  Even when it was overcast, I could feel the sun's heat and radiation on my skin.  So I didn't forget to massage myself with protective lotion, or to wear my broad-brimmed hat and sunglasses.  Even so, at the end of the day, I would feel the kind of tiredness I experience after spending time in the sun--say, at the beach or after a bike ride.  Then again, I spent much of my time outdoors, looking at temple sites and landscapes.

I now realize that yesterday and the day before, I was experiencing, more or less, what I experienced when I've gone to France or northern Europe in the summer:  longer hours of softer light.  I believe, though, the difference is even greater between here and Southeast Asia than between here and Europe.

In any event, I enjoyed the ride, as I almost always do.  And it is nice to be my age and not feel tired after a 140 km ride!