President’s Day Weekend

Saturday:
I slept late on Saturday, but eventually made my way out to the Whirlpool Trails to repair a bridge over a particularly muddy section of trail. This was a long overdue repair since several rungs were rotten and the bridge itself was about 5 feet too short. After considering my options, I rode my bike to an old abandoned bridge, actually a woodpile, on another part of the trail system to salvage scraps for replacement rungs. Since I couldn’t find my backpack that morning, I had to carry the scrap wood in one hand and push my bike with the other on my way back to the bridge. This was not an enjoyable experience. After dropping off the wood, I went to another section of trail to retrieve a short bridge that washed down the creek and settled onto a sandbar. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far away so I was able to drag it back to my worksite even though the thorns and underbrush seemed to object to its removal. After a few slips and hard tugs, I eventually made it back to start the job at hand. I decided to remove a couple of small trees on one end of the trail so access to the bridge would be easier and allow people to bypass the bridge once the trail dries. After about an hour of moving, shifting, chopping, nailing, and positioning it was finished. The final product isn’t sexy, but it will get you safely across the mud hole.


Sunday:
One of these days, I’m going to learn how to dress appropriately for cold weather. It seems I’m either over dressed or under dressed. Rarely do I get all the pieces of the puzzle to fit as they should and this day was no exception. The forecast celled for sunny skies and a high in the middle 60’s. When I left the house just before 9:00 AM, the weather channel said it was 40 degrees, but it was actually in the upper 30’s, which I didn’t learn until after I departed. When I arrived at Up-Town Coffee to meet the rest of the crew, I huddled in a corner to keep warm and await my fate on the road.

The ride was a 110-mile out & back to Davis Lake on the Natchez Trace and back to town. This is a yearly training ride and one I have found quite enjoyable in the past. As expected, we maintained a brisk pace between 18 and 21 mph on the way out. However, my hands hurt so bad from the cold that I found it hard to shift gears. It wasn’t long before my feet started going slightly numb and the cold wind eventually found its way behind my glasses to irritate my eyes. On top of all this, my nose dripped like an old faucet. Yes, I was miserable. About 20 miles into the ride, one of my water bottles ejected itself from the cage over some slightly rough pavement. It happened again a few miles later and that is when I learned one of my expensive carbon fiber cages cracked, so I had to carry a full bottle in my jersey pocket to add to my misery. Once we reached the hills on 334, the final nail went into my coffin. I dropped my chain on a climb and I knew this was going to be a jinxed ride. I decided to bail from the Davis Lake ride once we reached highway 9. This would still give me a nice 65-mile ride, and I wouldn’t have to worry about slowing anyone down with by issues. Shortly after turning around for the home leg, the sun decided to make an appearance and it began to warm up slightly. After a few miles, my hands stopped hurting and my feet felt somewhat better. Since I really wanted to get in as many miles as possible, I decided to turn off of 334 to add a few extra miles to my ride along the 444 route and back onto 334 about 15 miles from town. I ended my journey with 72.11 miles.

Since I had a little extra time when I got home, I decided to get out my camping equipment for a quick check for the Syllamo race and even set up the tent in the back yard. I’m going to need a new sleeping bag and a decent mat. The tent looks good.


Monday:
I slept late again and eventually made my way to the sofa to sleep for another couple of hours before finally facing the world. My big plan for the day was to ride 30 miles on the Whirlpool Trails. This didn’t happen. I ended up riding, but only 21 miles since I found myself stopping every so often to remove debris and even to construct a log-pile bridge over a fallen tree that has irritated me for years.