Bike ride, Friday, August eighth, two thousand eight. A day that will live in blogfamy
Meredith took the car and her sister to the Quilt show at the convention center.
So I took the bike to Queen Anne Starbucks.
Took the usual route, Lake Washington trail to the UW then the Burke Gilman to Fremont, across the bridge and up Florentia to 3rd West and the long pump to the corner of Queen Anne and Boston, past the house of the person who tried to run over me with a Toyota in a Seattle Symphony related incident.
Tall drip and a fat-free turkey bacon sandwich heated up in the microwave.
You remember last time I did this trip I complained that the trip down wasn't fast enough.
This time I decided to take 3rd West down, long straight ride.
I hit 37 mph on the portion that had been resurfaced in asphalt and began thinking, with a petit frisson of terror about the lower half that had been only prepared and not paved.
Prepared as in all dug up and chewed into rough patches and meandering ridges.
A petit frisson of terror not unlike the petit frisson of terror that I get riding past the house of the person who tried to run over me with a Toyota in a Seattle Symphony related incident.
The trip up had only been 15.5 miles, which meant that the trip home would only be 30.1 miles. so I started thinking of ways to add 10 more miles to the trip to make it 40.
While pondering that, I stopped at Recycled Cycles to check out brake pads to see if there was some new material that wouldn't leave gooey patches on my rims and make stopping all lumpy and noisy.
Turns out there are quite a few different kinds and styles and the ones that looked most like mine were $18 a one-wheel set. So phooey on that. The brakes hadn't been grabbing this trip anyway, only squealing.
So...on down to Lk. Wash, skirting the Arboretum (which is a fast trip going north but a vehiclularly intimidating slow slog sailing south) to Madison valley where I once got a ticket for having a turn signal bulb out in the ALFA, and back to curvy Ohlmstead legacy part of the the L.W. trail, past Bush school where they've planted the big sea-monster like "T" square on the lawn to the wonderful big "S" curve past the last house Kurt Cobain ever owned, and thence on to Mama Williebelles barbecue stand and Leschi.
During which I decided that a cut across the lake via the I-90 corridor trail would be just the thing to pad the mileage of the trip.
The trail to the bridge splits off from LWB at Leschi and follows more
Ohlmstead legacy curvy tree lined road, which is a nice way to travel even though it is a bit of a climb to the head of the floating bridge.
once there, however, its a long fast trip to water level, giving up all the potential energy gained on the climb, but, that is what it's all about, knowhattimsayn'
The ride through Mercer island is a park like pastoral run that is a lot faster west to east than the other way because the hills are long and gentle going down and short and steep going up so that you can gain plenty of speed to coast to the top of the short steep parts.
East to West is just the opposite, long slogs up and short opportunities for wind in your hair on the downward run.
Across the other bridge and through the Mercer slough wetland trail and the junction of the east side of the Lk. Wash. trail, otherwise known as 15 miles of fair to middlin' bike road.
The trail has become quite undermined by roots of the trees.
Keeps you awake, and I like the trees.
The trees are only on the east side of the trail, the other side is freeway.
Quite often it's possible to pass the freeway traffic, which sometimes (more often than not, actually) moving very slowly.
Now that I was headed south approaching Renton, it dawned on me that, ever since I started across the bridge, I seemed to be facing a headwind.
Also I was approaching the 40 mile mark and fatigue began to intrude on my otherwise idyllic peregrination.
I began to look forward to rounding the south end of Renton airport and having the wind in my corner.
Ah, well, that didn't work out, the wind, being free as a breeze decided to change direction just for me, thanks, God.
It was amusing, however to see a herd of goats helping with weed control along the airport periphery road.
Back up to Rainier Ave. I began to crave a frosted doughnut. Thought I might stop at The Ugly Mug, which I soon realized I had already passed, oops. Turned around found the Mug, tied up the bike, walked to the front door, read the "closed" sign, and yea, I wept.
Fortunately, there is a small grocery store on the same block, where I purchased a six-pack of little chocolate donuts (notice the difference in spelling, that's deliberate) and a root beer.
Not what I wanted, but life made out of things you can't have.
Music may be the food of the Gods, but compromise what us mortals, no matter how deserving, have for lunch each and every day.
At least the carbs fueled the climb through Dead Horse canyon on Holyoke st.
A short coast back home and rest.
A 44.6 mile trip.
Taking 4 hours 08 minutes and 32 seconds.
With a maximum speed of 37 mph (on 3rd west)
For an average speed of 10.7 mph.
Bringing my accumulation to 666 miles.
44 miles in 4 hours;
This compares favorably with 5 1/2 hours for the 50 mile trip around the lake last time I tried it....
At 66 years, I'm still capable of something other than deterioration.
Barbecue at Mac&Janet's yesterday, celebrating family values not found in churches.
So I took the bike to Queen Anne Starbucks.
Took the usual route, Lake Washington trail to the UW then the Burke Gilman to Fremont, across the bridge and up Florentia to 3rd West and the long pump to the corner of Queen Anne and Boston, past the house of the person who tried to run over me with a Toyota in a Seattle Symphony related incident.
Tall drip and a fat-free turkey bacon sandwich heated up in the microwave.
You remember last time I did this trip I complained that the trip down wasn't fast enough.
This time I decided to take 3rd West down, long straight ride.
I hit 37 mph on the portion that had been resurfaced in asphalt and began thinking, with a petit frisson of terror about the lower half that had been only prepared and not paved.
Prepared as in all dug up and chewed into rough patches and meandering ridges.
A petit frisson of terror not unlike the petit frisson of terror that I get riding past the house of the person who tried to run over me with a Toyota in a Seattle Symphony related incident.
The trip up had only been 15.5 miles, which meant that the trip home would only be 30.1 miles. so I started thinking of ways to add 10 more miles to the trip to make it 40.
While pondering that, I stopped at Recycled Cycles to check out brake pads to see if there was some new material that wouldn't leave gooey patches on my rims and make stopping all lumpy and noisy.
Turns out there are quite a few different kinds and styles and the ones that looked most like mine were $18 a one-wheel set. So phooey on that. The brakes hadn't been grabbing this trip anyway, only squealing.
So...on down to Lk. Wash, skirting the Arboretum (which is a fast trip going north but a vehiclularly intimidating slow slog sailing south) to Madison valley where I once got a ticket for having a turn signal bulb out in the ALFA, and back to curvy Ohlmstead legacy part of the the L.W. trail, past Bush school where they've planted the big sea-monster like "T" square on the lawn to the wonderful big "S" curve past the last house Kurt Cobain ever owned, and thence on to Mama Williebelles barbecue stand and Leschi.
During which I decided that a cut across the lake via the I-90 corridor trail would be just the thing to pad the mileage of the trip.
The trail to the bridge splits off from LWB at Leschi and follows more
Ohlmstead legacy curvy tree lined road, which is a nice way to travel even though it is a bit of a climb to the head of the floating bridge.
once there, however, its a long fast trip to water level, giving up all the potential energy gained on the climb, but, that is what it's all about, knowhattimsayn'
The ride through Mercer island is a park like pastoral run that is a lot faster west to east than the other way because the hills are long and gentle going down and short and steep going up so that you can gain plenty of speed to coast to the top of the short steep parts.
East to West is just the opposite, long slogs up and short opportunities for wind in your hair on the downward run.
Across the other bridge and through the Mercer slough wetland trail and the junction of the east side of the Lk. Wash. trail, otherwise known as 15 miles of fair to middlin' bike road.
The trail has become quite undermined by roots of the trees.
Keeps you awake, and I like the trees.
The trees are only on the east side of the trail, the other side is freeway.
Quite often it's possible to pass the freeway traffic, which sometimes (more often than not, actually) moving very slowly.
Now that I was headed south approaching Renton, it dawned on me that, ever since I started across the bridge, I seemed to be facing a headwind.
Also I was approaching the 40 mile mark and fatigue began to intrude on my otherwise idyllic peregrination.
I began to look forward to rounding the south end of Renton airport and having the wind in my corner.
Ah, well, that didn't work out, the wind, being free as a breeze decided to change direction just for me, thanks, God.
It was amusing, however to see a herd of goats helping with weed control along the airport periphery road.
Back up to Rainier Ave. I began to crave a frosted doughnut. Thought I might stop at The Ugly Mug, which I soon realized I had already passed, oops. Turned around found the Mug, tied up the bike, walked to the front door, read the "closed" sign, and yea, I wept.
Fortunately, there is a small grocery store on the same block, where I purchased a six-pack of little chocolate donuts (notice the difference in spelling, that's deliberate) and a root beer.
Not what I wanted, but life made out of things you can't have.
Music may be the food of the Gods, but compromise what us mortals, no matter how deserving, have for lunch each and every day.
At least the carbs fueled the climb through Dead Horse canyon on Holyoke st.
A short coast back home and rest.
A 44.6 mile trip.
Taking 4 hours 08 minutes and 32 seconds.
With a maximum speed of 37 mph (on 3rd west)
For an average speed of 10.7 mph.
Bringing my accumulation to 666 miles.
44 miles in 4 hours;
This compares favorably with 5 1/2 hours for the 50 mile trip around the lake last time I tried it....
At 66 years, I'm still capable of something other than deterioration.
Barbecue at Mac&Janet's yesterday, celebrating family values not found in churches.
posted by Lane Savant at 10:10 AM
9 Comments:
Now that was a descriptus supremus relative to bike ride. You must be careful though now. Your accumulative miles are 666, and that is the Devil's number. Numerologists would crap their britches until you added at least one more mile on the total. Ah yes, symbolism surrounds us all.
While you were keeping your heart rate up and pumping up your calves, I was sitting quietly watching several films at home, and playing with my grandsons, Ethan and Austin. My Friday night screening of BOOGIE NIGHTS at CSL was a dismal disappointment. All of 7 people showed up. Don't know if it was the choice of film, or the summer, or a lot of people out of town, or a combo of all three--but egg is hard to get off one's face.
Viva Fidelio, and Viva Savant, and the pox on the asshole that tried to run over you in the past on Queen Anne that has something to do with SSO controversy.
Glenn
I don't know why, but I really dig the meticulous way you wrote up your latest adventure on Fidelio. I took a clump of your prose and worked it around to resemble a ramblin' free verse, and titled it 44 MILES IN 4 HOURS. Click over to FFTR to check it out.
Glenn
66 years old and still pumping with the best of them--that's my lover boy and hero!
.............Emily
Gee, I hope to still be able to ride those hills in Seattle when I am a senior citizen. Bravo Savant.
.........Lance
Ride a tank for 40 miles. Hell, that is what a real man would do.
......George Patton
I don't know, maybe it's just me--but I had a love affair with my Hog; rode the bitch to glory--something about wrapping your legs around all that horsepower, and pushing the wind out of your way. Riding a bike is nice, dude, but isn't is kind of kid stuff?
..............Eddy E.
Yeah, I forgot about the airplane body all wrapped in green stuff riding on a train down by Coulon park
at the Renton airport end of Lake Washington.
Hallo, Lane!
Yor blog today is almost as long as one of Glenn's comments usually is! But I did read all of yours.
I didn't know Eddy E. is such a macho maniac, with his Harley statement. It sounded like McCain who attended a Harley rally and said there he'd rather speak to 5000 at a Harley rally than 200000 in Berlin, Germany.
Tschuess,
Anonomann
P.S. Jeremy still hasn't posted anything about his month-long Seattle stay.
I'm sure that the Eddy Emerald that Ilkka was talking about was nothing like the Eddy Emerald we all know and love. They do share one significant characteristic, however.
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