Riding Without Running Away

 The other day, I enjoyed a nearly perfect ride to Connecticut and back.  An overnight rain broke the weekend’s heat wave and I pedaled, with a brisk wind against my face on my way up and at my back on the ride back, under a clear sky accented by light cirrus brushstrokes.

When I’m enjoying such a trip, such a day, I never realize how lucky I am and, however ephemeral that privilege may be, it’s still more than so many other people have —and how much more orderly yet joyful my world can be—even if only for a few hours—than what lies not far beyond.

Yesterday I learned, from my friend Lillian—who is recovering from a back injury and wants to ride with me again—that a mutual friend, Glenda, had passed away around four in the morning.  That wasn’t much of a surprise, as her lung cancer was overtaking her doctors ‘ ability to treat it and her body’s ability to resist.  

She also told me that Edwin, for whom we sometimes ran errands, did other things beyond his computer skills and simply provided company, passed on Thursday.  That, of course, solved the mystery of why we hadn’t heard from him though, of course, that was neither a relief nor a consolation.

Oh, and there was another mass shooting in a school. The cynic in me is not surprised:  In a country whose mantra is, “Children are the future,” we haven’t made it more difficult to get assault weapons or easier to get mental health care, educational services or stable housing and employment since, in an eerily similar incident almost a decade ago, 28 kids and two teachers were murdered in a Connecticut school. Or since, more than a decade before that, a dozen students and two teachers were slaughtered in a Colorado high school.  Or after any number of attacks during those years.

That I can say “any number” of such incidents is a sad commentary on the situation in this country.  So is the supermarket shooting in Buffalo a week and a half ago. Again, my cynicism kicks in:  That horror doesn’t surprise me because if nothing changed after white kids were gunned down, I’m anticipating even less after a tragedy in which the victims were Black and, mostly, elderly.

So why am I invoking the Howard Cosell rule and ranting about such things on my cycling blog?  Well, it seems almost frivolous to talk about anything else.  For another, I wanted to express my understanding of my good fortune, though I am trying to avoid a lapse into guilt. Finally, though, I trust that you, dear readers, and cyclists in general, have a good sense of justice.  

A Spring Afternoon Reverie

Yesterday marked the last time until mid-August that the sun set before 20h ( 8pm).  Still, I had plenty of time to get in a Point Lookout ride--120 kilometers (75 miles):  I took a couple of detours in Long Beach and near Forest Park-- and get home before dark. even though I didn't start until about 14h (2 pm). During my last mile, along 31st Avenue in Astoria, I was literally pedaling into the sunset. Oh, an I had the wind at my back, as I did on my way back.  That, and the colorful sky, felt like a reward for pedaling into a brisk wind all the way out.  

In short, it was a perfect Spring afternoon ride.  Also, an interesting one, even though I've taken it many times before.  You see, when I started, hardly a cloud veiled the bright blue sky.  The temperature, around 20C (68F) seemed to be on the rise, though the wind, of course, made it feel cooler.  I rode through this seeming diorama of an idyllic spring afternoon until I crossed the Addobo Bridge from Howard Beach to Beach Channel.

Beach Channel, or BC, as its residents and fans like to call it, includes part of the Gateway National Recreation Area. It occupies an isthmus washed by Jamaica Bay.  And I mean washed--Superstorm Sandy really dumped its fury there.  Most of the damaged areas have been repaired or rebuilt, and the residential parts look something like a cross between Sea Bright, a Jersey shore locale where I did a lot of riding during my high school years, and a New England fishing village.  In other words, it's easy to forget you're still in New York City--and many residents rarely seem to, rarely, if ever, going to Manhattan or even Brooklyn or other parts of Queens. 

And the weather, along with that in the Rockaways, often differs dramatically from that on the other side of the Addobo Bridge.  At this time of year, you can feel the temperature drop a few degrees as you cross the bridge, and even further when you cross the Veterans' Memorial Bridge into the Rockaways.  Now, the water temperature is about 10C (50F) in both the bay and Atlantic Ocean.  The wind blowing off those bodies of water--which I rode into on my way out and blew me back home--can also change the skies:

As much as I love a sunny day, I also love the light that seemed to fill with the sea.  As thick as those clouds are, they posed absolutely no threat of rain.  If you've spent a lot of time in a coastal area, you've probably a similar veil of clouds rippling across the face of the sun and sky, especially early and in the middle of Spring.

All of it, while riding, opens my senses.  That alone makes such a ride a treat, almost a guilty pleasure! 

A Ride Into Living Color

In at least two ways, my Saturday ride to Connecticut and back was perfect.

For one, I pedaled into the wind just about all the way there.  By the time I got to the Greenwich Common, I was feeling its effects--and the sun on my face.  I'd worn sunscreen but I think I absorbed more rays than I'd taken in months.  (If nothing else, I got a healthy dose of Vitamin D.)  So, the packet of Kar's Sweet 'n' Salty mix I'd stashed in my seat bag was especially tasty and felt like a "superfood" for the rest of my ride.

I say the wind was part of a "perfect" ride because it was at my back for most of the way back!

But another thing that made my ride, which I've done many times, so nice was that the wind seemed to have blown the clouds away.  So, the bright sun made the air more brisk and the colors more vibrant.

I reminded myself that those flowers were planted in memory of war veterans.  Of course, there is no justice in dying in combat, whether or not in a "just" cause:  The combatants, most of them very young, did not have the opportunity to do most of the things most of us take for granted as normal parts of our lives.  But at least there is beauty, in living color, in their honor.  

Yesterday the Five Boro Bike Tour rolled through this city, passing just a couple of blocks of my apartment.  Two of my neighbors expressed consternation that I wasn't part of it.  I explained that I participated, probably, about twenty editions of it, including two as a marshal but the event has grown too big and commercial. ($100 to register? Yes, the swag and catered gourmet snacks are nice, but that's not why I go on a ride!) Besides, my ride to Connecticut and back is about twice as long as the 5BBT.  But just hearing "I rode to Connecticut" surprised them even more than my absence from one of the world's largest cycling throngs.

Burn

Yesterday was the warmest day of the year.  And the sun shone brightly.  I took an afternoon ride down to the Rockaways, by the sea.

It's a ride I've taken many times before.   I was feeling really good until I pedaled into Howard Beach--about 45 minutes' ride from my apartment.  Then, suddenly, I felt as tired as I might feel after a ride to Connecticut or Bear Mountain in which I've spent a good part of the time pedaling into the wind.

When I got home, I realized why:  My arms and face were red!  

Every year, around this time of year, I have a ride like the one I had yesterday, on a day like yesterday:  a premature summer day in the middle of spring.  The temperature reaches 30C or so, as it did yesterday, and I ride with less clothing than I'd been wearing through the previous few months.  So, more of my skin, which hasn't yet grown accustomed to the sun, is exposed.  Moreover, the sea (or any body of water) seems to magnify the solar refulgence.

I used sunscreen but, apparently, not enough.  At least, I didn't apply it as often as I, with my melanin deficiency, should have.  When my skin absorbs more sun than it's used to, I get tired.  

At least I can get away--I think--with not blaming yesterday's fatigue on aging.  I am still in midlife, after all!

A Chorus Of Purple Echoes A Spring Ride

 How do I reward myself on a gorgeous mid-Spring afternoon after a busy morning?

With a bike ride, of course!

I did another one of my aimless wanders along Queens and Brooklyn streets.  I felt no need to ride to any particular place; I simply wanted to fill myself with the light and air of this season, and to stimulate my senses in as many ways as I could in a couple of hours.

Early in my ride, I wended along the paths by the Long Island City piers, a.k.a. Gantry State Park.  I don't know who does the gardening there, but whoever they are, they're outdoing themselves every season, every year.

OK, if you've been reading this blog for a while--or if you just look at the pictures of my bikes--you know what colors I like best.  I could look at any and all purple flowers--lilacs, wisteria blooms, asters--all day.  But I really like the way the gardeners used the different shapes and heights of the blooms to make a chorus of purple.

Ah, the rewards of cycling!

Wednesday's Ride, On Sunday

Yesterday I took another ride to Point Lookout.  It was, in some ways, what last Wednesday's ride would have been had I taken it on Sunday.  

I don't mean to echo Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow."  The coastal jaunt was entirely pleasant:  Clear skies and calm seas formed a peaceful tableau, and the air was warm--that is, until I crossed the Veterans' Memorial Bridge, from a 28C air temperature to breezes from 9C water. So, while the temperature almost certainly dropped as I came to the ocean, it felt even chillier with the breeze--and my apparel (shorts and short sleeves).  

What was different were the throngs of people lining the Rockaway and Long Beach boardwalks.  I shouldn't have been surprised by that: Even with the chilly breeze, it was the warmest Sunday we've had this year, so far. 

Another thing that shouldn't have surprised me, I suppose, is that few people wore masks.  I know the CDC said that it's OK to go unmasked if you're outdoors and keeping the 3meter/6 foot social distance from strangers--which, of course, it's all but impossible not to do on a bicycle.  

Those recommendations are for people who have been vaccinated.  I got my second dose on the 13th, so according to the guidelines, I'm fully vaccinated.  I had to wonder, though, how many of the people I saw were vaccinated.

Still, though, it was a fine ride.  I did the Point Lookout ride for the opportunity to "let loose" on the long flat stretches--and to try something out that I'll write about later.

Another Fine Afternoon RIde

If I took a fine Spring ride the other day, yesterday's spin to Point Lookout would be my first summer ride of the year, sort of.

On Tuesday I began just after noon and got home from Connecticut in time for dinner.  The day began cloudy and chilly but sunlight--and warmth--broke through.  Yesterday, I began a bit before noon and rode through an afternoon when clear skies and bright sun brought the temperature up to 83F (28C), at least in the central parts of the city.

Most of my rides to Point Lookout, including the one I took yesterday, include crossing the Veterans Memorial Bridge. It spans Jamaica Bay and leads to the Rockaway Beach, a string of land barely a kilometer wide that separates the bay from the Atlantic Ocean. 

At this time of year, "mainland" Queens and Manhattan might bask in summery air, if for a day.  But the waters are just emerging from winter:  The ocean temperature at Rockaway Beach was 9C, or 48F, yesterday. The water temperature of Jamaica Bay probably wasn't much higher. That meant the air temperature dropped by about 15 degrees F, or seemed to, when I crossed the bridge and another couple of degrees when I reached the boardwalk.

Not that I minded.  The sun shone so brightly and other cyclists and strollers seemed to be in a good mood.  Also, the wind blew out of the northwest:  in my face for most of the way out, and at my back for most of the way back.

Today bouts of showers are punctuating a cloudy but still warm day.  I might try to sneak in a quick ride between spritzes.  But I'm happy that, for two days in a row, I managed to get in what would normally be, at this time of year, day rides in the space of an afternoon.