One More Ride To Normal

We've all heard that, as a result of the COVID-19 epidemic, some things "won't be the same."  We have some ideas about some of the things that might change--schools, workplaces and such--but we also know that there will be changes that few, if any, of us can predict.

That, I believe, motivates us to want--and celebrate--a return to things that are familiar.

What I have just described can also describe recovering from a major illness, accident or other trauma.  At least, that's how I feel about the aftermath of my crash.

Finally getting on my bike last week, if only for a short ride, was a sign that at least something in my life was on its way to normalcy.  Riding again the other day--and making a dessert I've wanted to make for a long time--was another.

Yesterday I took another step--or ride, if you will--toward life as I knew it.

For the first time in more than a month, I pedaled to Point Lookout.  At 120 kilometers, give or take, it's the longest ride I've done since my accident.  

The good news is that in my neck and shoulders, where pain has persisted, feel better than they did yesterday or at any time in the past month.  I still feel some twinges and stiffness, but simply holding my head up doesn't tire me.  

I felt pretty good in general.  The only "bad news," if you can call it that, is that I felt more tired than I usually feel at the end of such a ride. Part of my fatigue was a result of not having done such a ride in more than a month.  Another part of my tiredness came from having pedaled into a fairly brisk wind from the southeast, under a bright sun, all the way to Point Lookout.  Of course, I had the wind at my back on my way home, but there was still nothing between me and solar rays but my sunscreen.

What I've said about the sun and wind isn't a complaint:  I could hardly have had a more beautiful day on which to complete one more step on my return to what is normal in my life.  I wonder what will change.

Vive La Velo--And Cherries Clafoutis

Yesterday I celebrated Bastille Day in a pretty French way.

After attending to a couple of errands related to my recovery, I went for a ride.  It wasn't long or difficult, but these days simply getting on Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special (or any of my other bike) is reassuring.

People ride all over the world. But when I ride on la grande fete, I can't help but to think about Parisian streets or Pyreneean paths, where I have ridden on the 14th in years past.

After eating a healthy supper, I did something entirely French--and indulgent.  Over the last couple of days, I bought about three kilos of cherries.  When I see those ruby (or yellow) fruits, fresh, in a greenmarket or streetside stall, I simply can't resist!  I know that sometimes cherries from the Southern Hemisphere are available in the winter.  They're perfectly fine, but there's nothing like in-season local (or at least domestic) fruit.

So what did I do with my "harvest?"  I turned some into a dessert I've enjoyed in France but I almost never find here in the 'States: Clafoutis aux Cerises (Cherry Clafoutis). 

It's a vanilla custard, a bit denser than creme caramel or flan, with cherries.  (I added some chopped almonds.) Unlike so many French foods, it's not much to look at.  Someone once told me, only half-jokingly, that it's the reason why Americans like to coat it with confectioner's sugar.  I don't, partly because I'm generally not a fan of powdered sugar, but also because I don't want to mask this dessert's unique combination of flavors and textures.

Since I don't have a proper baking dish (I broke the one I had over the holidays), I made two smaller tarts.

Whether or not it's a jour de fete--or you're a Francophile--you should enjoy this treat at least once a year.  It's really not so difficult to make.  And, let's face it, after a good ride, you deserve it!

Storming And Social Distancing

How can you enjoy Bastille Day with "social distancing" in force?

There's always a way to celebrate a holiday.  (To me, cycling is a celebration!)  I have to wonder, though, whether there would be a Bastille Day had there been a social distancing regulation in 1789.

Then again, would people who storm a prison obey such a rule?

It "Did Not Appear As Stable"

"An iguana got caught in my wheel."

Now that would have been something to tell the folks at Montefiore-New Rochelle or Westchester Medical Center--not to mention the New Rochelle Police Department.

Of course, they wouldn't have believed it.  At least, that's what I think:  After all, the long green creatures aren't nature to this part of the world.

Then again, I once took a tumble so a cat wouldn't be entangled in my wheel. (If you've been reading this blog a while, you know how I feel about cats!)  And a big dog--a German Shepherd, if I recall correctly--knocked me off my Schwinn Continental when I was delivering newspapers.

If someone's feline or canine could make a beeline into my path, who's to say that a someone's pet lizard, in New Rochelle or anywhere else, couldn't escape and dart into a cyclist's wheel?

All right, I admit, that seems less likely than the dog or cat scenarios.  But when I've cycled in Florida, I've had a near-miss with an armadillo and, it seems, cute little green lizards seem to make a sport of seeing how close people can ride or run before they make their "escapes."

I've seen iguanas during my trips to the Sunshine State.  Fortunately for me, they kept a respectful distance.  A cyclist in Marathon, however, learned the hard way that, perhaps, iguanas don't always know how they'll get entangled--or how they can entangle people's lives.  

From Monroe County (FL) Sheriff's Office

The cyclist ended up in the hospital.  It seems that his injuries aren't serious.  However, according to Monroe County Sheriff's Office spokesman Adam Linhardt, "The condition of the iguana did not appear as stable."

As a recent accident victim, I wish a speedy and full recovery to all.

You Can Lead A Cat To A Bicycle

I'm still trying to teach Marlee how to ride!

From Society6

Who And What Are They Trying To Keep Out?

The European Union is closed to visitors from the US and other places.

For what may be the first time in history,  the border between the US and Canada is closed, except for "essential" travel and people returning to Alaska.

Even the border between the Australian states of New South Wales and Victoria is closed.  

Earlier in the COVID-19 pandemic, when my hometown of New York was one of the "hot spots," other states required visitors from our state, and others, to self-quarantine.  Beaches and parks in New Jersey and Long Island were open only to local residents.

Now that the "curve" has "flattened," at least for for the time being, we and neighboring states are requiring visitors from Florida, Texas and other states that have become new "hot spots" to self-quarantine upon arrival.

But as far as I know, no place has had any "no outsider" ban that applied specifically to cyclists.  At least, not until this past Tuesday, when the village of Key Biscayne, Florida banned all bicycle travel by non-residents.

The reason the village, located on a barrier island off Miami and Miami Beach, gave for its prohibition is to stop the spread of the corona virus.  Lawyers representing several Miami-Dade residents said the ban "based on a report of a few individuals not wearing masks" is "absurd."  One of the lawyers, Phil Prazan, said that because cars are still allowed into the village,  the new rule is a "poorly veiled excuse to ban cyclists."

Hmm...I wonder how many people--local residents or outsiders--are congregating, sans masks, on area beaches.

Recovery: I Want It Now!

I am learning new meanings to words I've long used: "trauma" and "recovery."

The "lesson," if you will, came yesterday.  I pedaled up to Harbor Island Park (in Mamaroneck) and back.  That's a little more than my typical "long" ride to and from Greenwich, Connecticut.  Yet it tired me out more than the trek to and from the Nutmeg State.

One reason, of course, is that I have done so little riding since my accident.  Until then, this riding season had been one of my best in a long time:  I'd been spinning 300 kilometers or more a week since the first of January.  I think I had been more than making up for the commuting miles I lost once I started working from home.

Still, I found it hard to believe that I could have lost so much conditioning in less than a month.  Whether or not I did, there was another clue as to why I went horizontal after my ride:  I realized that I'd drunk the full contents of my water bottle--in addition to another bottle of water and an energy drink I picked up along the way.  

Yesterday turned out to be the hottest day I've ridden this year:  A bank thermometer in Larchmont gave a reading of 34C, or 94F.  And the sun was beating down on me.   Even after replenishing my sun screen, I could see and feel my skin reddening.

As it happened, my doctor called just after I got home to schedule an appointment.  I complained that a ride "I can do in my sleep" left me exhausted.  "Well, you're suffering from trauma," he reminded me.  "That's what trauma does to you."  Even though I haven't experienced any loss of cognition and the only pain I'm feeling is around my shoulders, my body is still dealing with the shock of the crash, he explained.  "Don't beat yourself up," he admonished me.

From Active.com

That is when I realized what "recovery" means:  You don't snap your fingers or flick a switch and return to what was before the shock, before the trauma.  Recovery is a process, and processes nearly always take time.

Still, I want to ride as I did a month ago. And I want it now!

New Life For An Old Ride

"Am I getting old? Or is the bike?"

I replied "no" to both questions because, well, it was the truth.  At that time, I wouldn't have called myself "middle-aged," and she was a good bit younger than I was.  And, as a sometime bike mechanic, I knew that most bikes, unless they've been crashed or left in an undersea cave, can be salvaged.

We used to ride together from work because she lived about halfway between our workplace and my apartment and I enjoyed her company.  Also, we left at night, and I had enough testosterone in me to see myself as her protector.

I offered to tune up her bike--a Dunelt three-speed that was probably even older than she was.  She offered to treat me to a "nice brunch."

She made good on her offer.  One day, I packed my bottle of Tri-Flo with my books and change of shoes.  During a break between classes, I jogged down to the campus bike rack.  She was nowhere in sight. I lubed her chain and inflated her tires with my Zefal HP frame pump.  That night, she marvelled that riding her bike seemed "so much easier." 

If I were a better (or simply nicer) person, I could have told her that she was getting stronger from her daily commute--which she most likely was.  Instead, I "confessed."

She marveled that simply keeping her tires inflated and chain lubed could make such a difference.  I admitted that they were a "major part" of bike maintenance, but reiterated my offer to make her bike "like new."  She never took me up on it.

Had she availed herself to my expertise, not only would her gears, brakes and other parts have worked better than she ever imagined they could; I would have shown her how simple it actually is to keep a bike (especially one like hers) running.

I thought about our offers to each other when I came across this article in Popular Science.  Its author, Stan Horaczek, understands something I've long known:  Most bikes can be "resurrected" as long as they haven't been crashed or have been stored underwater.    Better yet, most repairs that will make most long-dormant bikes functional don't require special tools.

So, if you want to start riding again and can't find a suitable ride at your local shop--or even Craigslist--there may be a "treasure" in your or a family member's or friend's basement or rafters.

Connect--Or Follow--The Dots

In a normal year, the Tour de France would be in its third or fourth stage right about now.  Depending on where the prologue was staged, the riders would be pedaling by Picardian poppy fields, zagging along la Cote Opale or, perhaps, winding past Burgundian vineyards.  While they might encounter some hills along the way, they probably would not have begun to ascend the tortuous mountain climbs for which the Tour is famous.

So, there wouldn't be much talk about who would be "crowned" King of the Mountains

and wear the "royal" polka dot jersey.

Perhaps the only riders who get more respect than its wearer are the ones who sport the overall leader's maillot jaune (yellow jersey) or the points leader's green jersey.  Having pedaled up a few Tour climbs, including the Alpe d'Huez, les deux Alpes, Col de Lauteret,  and le Col du Galibier, there are few athletes I admire more than those who make such ascents on a regular basis!

Plus, I'll admit, I am just enough of a fashionista to want to wear a polka dot jersey!

Helmets Off

For a long time, I resisted wearing a helmet.  Then again, when I was becoming a serious cyclist, helmet-wearing hadn't become the norm.  

These days, if I leave my apartment with my bike and without my helmet, I quickly realize that something is off.  I feel as if I were in one of those dreams where I'm naked and everyone else is clothed.  

Just as what you wear can be a life-and-death matter (especially in extreme weather), protecting your head can protect a lot of other things.  The doctor at the hospital told me as much:  As much of a mess as I was after my recent accident, I at least don't seem to have brain or spine injuries.

I have had two occasions when, if wearing a helmet didn't save my life, it at least spared me worse injuries.  The first time, a truck driver flung his door open into my side, sending me on the one and only somersault I've ever done on a bicycle.  I came out of it with a sprained wrist.  A few years later, I rode up the wrong side of a BMX mound and did an unintentional "flip."  My helmet literally broke in two, but I--and my bike--remained intact.

After such experiences, you might (understandably) expect me to wonder what members of the Tacoma city council were thinking.

Last week, they voted for an ordinance that, among other things, repeals the city's law--on the books since 1994--requiring for helmets for cyclists. 

Lisa Kaster, a senior planner and active transportation planner for the city, cited "outdated, inconsistent code language" that "doesn't align with best practices or city and state policy" as a motive for the the Council's action.  

As in many other cities, bicycling has become a bona fide means of transportation as well as recreation in Tacoma.  Also, other forms of non-motorized mobility, such as scooters and skates, have gained popularity.  It seems that Council members faced the same dilemma that vexes their counterparts in other cities:  How can a law be written to be fair and relevant to current practices yet flexible enough to accommodate change?

Interestingly, Washington--like most other US states--requires helmets for motorcycle riders.

While I encourage people to wear helmets, I am still not certain that such a practice should be mandated.  At least, I don't think requiring helmets will prevent all, or even most, serious head injuries, not to mention other maladies.  Wearing a helmet while engaging in unsafe practices, such as wearing headphones or riding against traffic will not protect the helmet's wearer--or anyone else.