A Small Step

As I mentioned earlier, I love bike riding. It is, for me, the perfect combination of workout and reward. My calves and thighs are almost rocks, I get to see quite a bit more via wheels than my own feet, and I get a much larger sense of accomplishment from a bike ride than anything else (other than literally any horse related pursuit, obviously). I’ve been focusing on stretching out my tiny comfort zone bubble via bike this year; I started bike commuting in the middle of our January freeze, and more or less kept that up for the year; I’m discovering some new routes around my town; and I’m considering an easy bike camping route later in the fall, when the smoke dies down and things aren’t so…firey.

(I just had a random thought: generally, our vehicles earn names ie, my truck is the Emerald Queen; I’ve been biking on my Gary Fisher birthday bike for 8 months now, and it’s still just “Gary”…weird).

bikedress

On Sunday, I’m jumping into an organized bike ride, something I’ve never done before; The Tour de Lab is basically a bar crawl, via bike, in the morning, through inner Portland neighborhoods that I’m mostly familiar with. I’m not ready for the elevation change of the 40 mile ride (at least at any speed faster than basically walking) so I’m doing the 15 mile ride, which I know is well within my abilities…except for the 2000 odd other people I’ll have to deal with!

Thank you Tom for encouraging me to do this, will you help me tune up my bike tonight? I can’t wait to earn some puppy ears and finish line booze and hot dogs!

bike

Always there

Pre-coffee morning thoughts…
I have a pretty drive, which seems weird as my commute is through the heart of the Portland Metro area. Coming down & around the Terwilliger Curves, sometimes Mt. Hood is just there, your huge, friendly neighborhood Mr. Perfect GQ level mountain. He’s perfectly backlit by the softest pinks & oranges of a gorgeous sunrise, the color that blesses a good day ahead & gently lifts the spirit to be living in such a beautiful place.
This same mountain on a different day, say a cold, foggy, drippy morning, he reminds you of all the sad, foolish or just unlucky people his glaciers & forests have eaten, that he’s a volcano of immense potential. Hood has an eons long bet with his brother to the north, Mt. Rainier, set in terms of body count. He reminds you to button up & stay snug by the fire, no need to try to bag his peak today.
He’s always there, either peeking out between the glass high rises of downtown or popping up in front of you on a clear day, close enough to touch those white clad sides. He’s always watching his passes and rivers, the planes swopping past, reminding me I’m home here, with countless adventures in his forests yet to come.