Mile 185: Good-bye, 2009, You Dirty Bitch

I've been biking a ton these last couple weeks, and there have been some major developments in the field of WhatTheFuckBenIsDoingWithHisLifeOlogy. A great trip to the heart of Europe and the Old Country is in the works. I'll be detailing said plans as they go from delusions in Herr Autor's head to actual reality.

Part of the trip involves delving into some of my family past; deep into the heart of what my sweet, swarthy Grandma Molly used to call "The Old Country". She spoke English nearly perfectly, but with a slight accent. But there were some unmistakable vocab slip-ups which I will now share.

"The Old Country" = Poland (Lublin, her hometown, to be exact).

"My Storiens" = Her soap operas she watched daily (Days of Our Lives; The Young and The Restless" were her two favorites).

"Frucht" = Fruit (heavy on the phlegm)

"The O-side" = The outside (though I now like to refer to the Obama's Democratic Party as the O-side).

And before you start thinking that my Grandma Molly was all cutesy Eastern European charm, let me tell you that her entire family was wiped out by Nazis, as was nearly the entire Jewish population of The Old Country (Lublin). That's right; I just dropped the Holocaust on your ass.

So, I'm headed to the heart of the Final Solution. My reasons for visiting are:

1) Poland sounds like a beautiful country to visit

2) My family and last name originate from there

3) There are a few family questions that linger that would be nice to answer.

I have no other expectations. Just a bike ride to the Old Country.

A quote

From Jacques Barzun's "From Dawn to Decadence" (page 60 in the edition I'm reading): "The book, like the bicycle, is a perfect form."


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Mile 103: A couple of tumbles and beautiful winter riding

Haven't had much to write about the last two weeks due to a pretty nasty spill I took mountain biking. My friend Jim has these crazy downhill/freeride/big bouncy fun bikes that let you jump off stuff. He took me on a ride with his friends in the local hardcore biking group near Fall City. We climbed about 3 miles of fire/logging roads and then went down these beautifully maintained trails that snake their way down. On the first run, I took a header near the end and slammed my rib cage fairly hard; I've never had that kind of injury. Anyway, 2 weeks later, tens of thousands of milligrams of Ibuprofen later and constant morning pain, and I'm healed.

Yesterday I did the same ride I've ridden about previously: 20 miles from Winslow, to Baker Hill, Fort Ward, Toe Jam Hill, Eagledale and back home. Lots of pleasants views. The rain made the island seem deserted, and I had most of the roads to myself.

Today, I biked into Seattle and saw my sister. For a Hanukah present, I told my 3 year old nephew that I would take him on a train. So, I took him to the Westlake transit hub where there are three train lines that fan out from Westlake and 5th: the South Lake Union Trolley (or the SLUT), the Monorail and the Light Rail. Love it. Here's some pics of my adorable nephew riding the train and farting around the marina.

On the way there, I took another spill, just south of the Ballard locks. I was coming down a steep road onto a wood bridge that goes over a train line. I turned too fast and the wheels just slipped out from under me, because of the wet wood surface that was covered with leaves. And I landed directly on the spot where I had bruised the rib previously. Bad luck, I guess. Other than the rib, just have bruises on my hip and right leg. The spot where I fell is also my favorite part of the whole ride. It's this beautiful tucked away wooden bridge, and a train was running underneath it when I fell. The train was actually one that I followed from when I got downtown, all the way up to Ballard. We paced each other, and it was fitting since the theme of the day was Sam's Train Day.

Another funny occurrence was that I got an attack of the mustshits at 85th and 15th. You know, the mustshits are what happens when you're somewhere, and for no apparent reason your ass tells you that it simply Must Shit immediately. A nearby Subway store provided me with the necessary facilities, and the lonely Mexican dude who was manning the counter at 10:30 in the morning must've had a chuckle at the sweaty butt-clenchingly insane biker who ran in, mumbled something about "I'll buy after I use bath...." and then came out, visibly harrowed and pale, and and bought a fruit punch. I gave him a 50 cent tip, which is not back for a $1.50 fruit punch.

Riding through Seattle always puts me in a good mood. I'm a little

Mile 39:A post-Thanksgiving Urban ride

I'm only at mile 39 because I bought a new odometer for the Surly and lost a few miles between flipping to mile 1000 on the Grey Goose and getting the odometer installed. I'm officially 3.9% of the way towards mile zero (2000 mod 1000).

Thought I'd throw up some pictures I took from a 25 mile ride I took in Seattle last Friday. The route was fairly easy, but the weather was just about perfect: right around 45 degrees and mostly sunny. I was working off the steaks and stuffing from Thanksgiving, so I really pushed it, speed wise. Here are some pics from the beginning of ride, including some from the ferry and along the water.

The ride took from the ferry terminal, along the waterfront, through Olympic Park, around a Magnolia scenic loop, and up into Ballard through the locks, through Fremont and back down to the ferry. All parts of Seattle that I really love and that feel like my hometown.

I find myself struggling to stay fit this winter. After 25 or 30 miles relaxed cycling, I hit a wall that requires some serious rest and fuel. If I'm going to start doing some real touring in the spring, that's completely unacceptable. I joined a gym and have been doing spin classes and stationary biking for an hour every day or so, but it doesn't seem to help. My legs are bulking up, but the endurance isn't there yet.

The new Surly continues to perform admirably, and have zero complaints, other than that it hasn't fixed my "Two Numb Toes" problem. When it's cold and I bike for longer than 15 miles, my two left small toes go completely white and numb. When I take my socks off, it looks like two tiny corpses hanging out in bed next to their 3 larger brothers. Freaky.

In the event that any ever reads this blog (if I ever send someone a link), let it be known that I just finished this book and loved it: Odysseus' Last Stand. Just an entertaining travel book about a guy riding his bike around the world.