First Decade

Today we rode 11 miles, and it felt fantastic.  We also used our bike rack for the first time, even on the freeway, and the bikes and rack didn’t fall off onto the road and get smashed by a big rig.  Success!

We decided to ride the very flat (my favorite!) Chehalis Western Trail. We saw that it was grey out, but not raining, so we  ventured out, in hopes we wouldn’t end up getting soaked.  We got the bikes loaded on our brand new rack, and were nervous on the freeway, and over bumps, but everything stayed where it was supposed to.

We parked at a trailhead in Lacey, and unloaded the bikes.  Another cyclist walked by, smiled, and said, “Nice bikes!”  I was really proud because I happen to love them.

We took off near the 7 mile marker on the trail, heading east.  Again for the first maybe half mile I kept thinking that this was harder than I remember, but quickly I forgot about the effort, and instead focused on the scenery.  At first, it felt like we were riding through people’s backyards.  Homes backed right up to the path, and I got to see in all their backyards.  You know, most people are not neat freaks.  Their yards weren’t super messy, but they weren’t immaculate either.  It was reassuring.

We crossed a few roads, and each time I approached one, I was a little apprehensive.  I’m still worried that a car isn’t going to see me and I’ll get creamed.  But each time, I crossed with no problem, and no falls.

Soon our path was no longer paved, and became muddy and rocky.  I was certain I would slip in the mud and fall.  I tried to stay to the edge of the puddles, but couldn’t avoid them all.  At one point, an oncoming cyclist and I were separated by a huge puddle.  There was a little space on my side to ride around the puddle, and I wasn’t sure whether I or the oncoming cyclist had the right of way.  I apologized for making him stop and rode past.  (J told me later that since the way around the puddle was on my side, I had the right of way.  Who knew?)

The muddy path took us to a busy road, where the trail joins the road for 600 hundred feet.  We rode under a train trestle and with the traffic, then followed the trail when it separated from the road and headed up a short steep hill.  At the top, we had to stop for a second to catch our breath.  We rode a couple more miles on the trail, then started to tire out, so we turned around at the 12.5 mile marker.

On the way back, I was worried about crossing the busy road where the trail follows the road.  But when I got to the bottom of the hill, I made it across easy, rode under the trestle and through a huge puddle no problem, then back across the road and over the muddy, rocky part of the trail.  The adrenaline rush of riding over an uneven path and making it through is pretty fantastic.

About half the way back, we got rained on.  Just a light shower, and we were able to pull over into a covered rest area.  Not bad for the Pacific Northwest.

As we arrived back at our truck, the sun came out, and we ate our lunch in the sunshine.

Rest Day

The day after I got my first bike and went for my first ride, my hubs wanted to go for another ride – this time the Five Mile loop at Point Defiance.  It’s closed for motorized vehicles on weekend mornings, and J was really excited to finally be able to ride it on a bike (we’ve walked around the park many times, watching as cyclists zoomed past us).

We got to the park at around 11am, and set off.  My butt immediately reminded me that I wasn’t accustomed to riding a bike for as long as we had the day before.  It hurt.  A lot.

It was colder than it had been the day before, but I figured we’d be working harder on the hillier ride, so that would probably keep me warm, and as a result I just wore a hoodie, no coat or gloves (mistake).  Unfortunately for me, the ride starts with a flat, then a big slow downhill where you just keep picking up speed.  Fun on a sunny day, but yesterday I froze my tail off (and ears, and fingers).

The downhill was followed by a pretty easy climb.  At least, on a normal day it'll be easy.  Yesterday day it was anything but.  My quads screamed at me, and I was quickly running out of what little energy I had when the day started.  I shifted down to a lower gear and barely made it to the top (learning along the way that shifting the front chain ring isn't easy, especially when you're going uphill - which seems to defeat its purpose).

We pulled over at a viewpoint, and I couldn’t enjoy it, I was panting so hard.

On the next climb, a midsize one, I ran out of juice.  I barely passed a couple slowly walking their dog, and another cyclist sped past me on the left.  I was in granny gear (which is what I've learned the lowest gear is called), breathing hard, and couldn’t muster the energy to keep pedalling.

I yelled out to J, “This isn’t fun anymore!”  I got off the bike, and walked it the rest of the way up the hill.  The couple with the dog passed me.

At the top of the hill, J could see that I was ready to be done and told me we could take a shortcut back to the car.  I couldn’t have been happier (but I was too tired to express it).

We rode back to the truck and put the bikes away.  Next time, we’ll be taking a rest day after a long ride.

Too Slow, Too Fast

On Daffodil Parade Day, I went for my first ride on the first bicycle I’ve owned as a grown-up.

When I rode my bike for the first time, I huffed and puffed my way down the flat path.  I probably didn’t exceed 15 mph (not that I know for sure because we don’t have a computer to tell us how fast we’re going yet).  I was a little embarrassed that the other bicycle riders were much more expert – riding a straight path, closely following each other to draft, wearing their spandex gear.  I, on the other had, do not ride in a straight line (J says I ride like I'm drunk), was always about 20-30 feet ahead of or behind J, and had to fold up my workout pants so they didn’t get caught in the chain.

At the beginning of the ride, I complained that we'd bitten off more than we could chew for our first outing.  The path followed the road for what seemed like forever before getting to the town (probably only 1 mile or so).  Cars zoomed past us, and oncoming cyclists seemed to go twice as fast as us.  At every stop sign and light, I slowed waaaaay down for fear of getting hit by a car turning right into me.


Finally we got to town, where we could smell people preparing for the parade with a barbecue.  We stopped to drink water at the water fountain, then we continued on where the path left the town and passed cows grazing in a pasture.  They seemed happy that it wasn’t raining.  We rode past a few homes where children played outside (also happy it wasn’t raining).  

A man running with his small dog apologized when the dog barked at me as I rode past, saying “He’s not used to wheels.”  I responded, “It’s ok, neither am I!”

We stopped when the path met up with the river.  We ate a picnic lunch of tuna sandwiches and chips that J packed that morning while I slept in and were impressed with ourselves for having ridden so far on just our first ride.  The river rushed past us, a muddy grey color – probably glacial melt.  We saw the Cascades in the distance.  People we’d passed walked past us, and said hello – again.  We took pictures of our bicycles, proud to be beginner cyclists.  Then we headed off on the path, now following the river.

The path passed over a narrow bridge, on which I was unsure who to yield to, if anyone.  A pedestrian entered the bridge ahead of me, and I could see two (expert) cyclists heading my way.  Maybe someday I’ll know the rules of these roads, but that day I didn’t.  I slowed as I approached, unsure whether to stop or speed over the bridge.  The pedestrian saw me, paused in the middle and scooted over for me, and I had passed over the bridge before the oncoming cyclists got there.  It was all very civilized.

The path left the river, and we rode through a small forest.  A couple – one on a bike timing the other who was running – headed toward us.  The runner was probablyfaster than me on my bike.

After leaving the forest, I looked up to see a large fenced-in pasture, and back from the fence a ways was a really big bird.  I laughed under my breath.  What a surprise– out in the middle of nowhere, what looked like an ostrich (but was probably an emu).  I stopped to get a better look, and as I approached the fence, the bird approached me.  He was taller than me, and his feathers looked new and fluffy – like maybe he wasn’t full-grown yet.  Before I could get our camera turned on, he bored of me and slowly walked away.

We turned around to head back, leaving more to explore next time.  The return trip seemed easier and smoother.  We even rode side by side for a bit.  When we loaded our bikes back into the truck, I saw a couple taking their bikes out of their truck.  They wore jeans and tennis shoes, and didn’t seem terribly confident on their bikes,and I waved at them as they left the parking lot.

On our drive home, we wondered if the blinking lights and stopped cars ahead of us in the oncoming lanes were because of the parade.  As we drove past, and saw the body of a young person covered with a blanket, we knew that they weren’t stopped for the parade.  A motorcyclist had hit an oncoming car at speeds estimated at 100 mph.  He died.  There’s no way to wrap that up nicely.

I was sad for the guy who'd gone too fast, and glad that we’d spent our day going our own speed.