Year of Big Change, Big Thanks, Lots of Fresh Air, and Petty Gripes

In 2010, when I didn't ride in winters and I had very rigid rules of when it was too cold or precipitous (precipitation-filled?) to be on a bike, we had a really warm Thanksgiving. I started my Thanksgiving bike riding tradition that day, which has continued every year, regardless of the weather. 

Interestingly, the bike rides help me remember what we ate for dinner. Or do the dinners remind me of the bike rides? In any event, we had Indian buffet that first year. (The rice was a little dry.) The year after, I rode near some wild turkeys in the drizzle while I had a turkey in the oven at home. A few years later, we tried Ol' Mexico. 

Today, we made a repeat visit to Merlin's Rest. The last time we went to this Irish bar for Thanksgiving, it was snowy and really cold. I learned three important things that day: riding a fat tire bike can be tons of fun, I cannot ignore my poor circulation, and Irish whiskey in coffee is gross.

Today was a great day. It got up to about 40 degrees, there was a little bit of wind that slightly hampered western movement, and it was sunny. Ah, sun. 

For some reason, I opted to stay behind the trees
when taking a photo of the Grain Belt Beer sign.

During the bike ride, I was reflecting on 2017 thus far. I got to visit my friend Ian and my sister Molly's family in February, our BikeMS team grew a ton, we raised a new team record  amount of money for the MS Society, we did the MS150 in the most unbelievable storm, there was a memorable scenic hill I rode up while doing the MS TRAM that I remember fondly, we had a fun family reunion in Kentucky, I got to visit one set of parents in the north woods, and I got to go to Duluth with the other set. Professionally, I resigned - after 11 years - from an excellent job with amazing colleagues who taught me a lot and am learning new things at another excellent job with amazing colleagues, while still getting to work on tobacco control policy. 

I am grateful for my family, a good job, a lot of time riding around on my bike, and my health. Any complaints I have are all superficial and unimportant. Not everyone is as lucky. I know people who have lost loved ones, and who are struggling with serious illnesses. That makes my heart hurt. 

I can't solve everything, but I can do what I can do. So, as I spend the weekend eating turkey, hanging out with friends, and making excuses to not go to the gym, I'm thinking ahead to next year's BikeMS rides (and impatiently waiting for the 5-day TRAM route to be announced and for registration to open!), working with some teammates on some fundraising ideas, and am talking to the MS Society about recruiting, supporting, and retaining riders. 

Thanks to anyone who is reading this. You've supported me in one way or another, and for that I am grateful.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/MS150Maggie2018

Minnesota Goodness

While the title of this post could apply to being a hearty Minnesotan and riding these past few weekends despite the cold and occasional patches of ice, today it refers to today's fat bike ride along parts of the Minnesota River.

We rode last weekend on pavement in this area. Today was a bit more... muddy. I wish I would have copied Matt and taken a photo of my mud-laden bike at the height of its messiness. We thought it would be drier on the trail. As it was, mud was flinging up and hitting my helmet. A chunk even went between my glasses and my eye. My clothes and shoes were pretty stinky.

I think the highlight for me was trying not to run over a fully formed dead fish on the skinny, uphill, left-curving dirt trail. I'm still not great at riding - okay, not yet at all willing to ride - across a 4x4 hunk of wood across a tiny stream on 4-inch tires. I'm optimistic I'll conquer my brain at some point.

I've enjoyed getting out these past few weekends, which are making me think I might actually be able to just surpass last year's annual mileage if it stays above 20 degrees somewhat consistently during the daytime. It isn't actually about the mileage, but having a small goal will help keep me riding, which is always a good thing.

I am only one person, but I have two thumbs

Tonight I went to see Le Ride, a movie that was shown in a southern suburb after some industrious person hit a goal of selling a minimum number of tickets. There was such a lycra-crowd demand, they moved it to a bigger theater in the complex. It was a very fit, mostly white, largely male audience. That didn't stop me from going all in on buttery, salty popcorn.

Watch the trailer here: https://youtu.be/dX7Z_ZT_baE.

Basically, two guys re-rode the 1928 Tour de France route, on the same schedule and on 1928 bikes, retracing the steps of the first (and very undersupported) English-speaking Tour team. It was grueling for the documentarians, despite having good support and, unlike the 1928 riders, paved roads and (presumably unlike the 1928 riders) chamois.

I learned that France has beautiful scenery, that bikes in 1928 were very rudimentary, that Australasia is a word, that cyclists in that era were total badasses, and that there's no effing way I could do that ride within 4 weeks on my good bike.

But it was a good reminder that I can push myself more.

Familiarity breeds... familiarity?

Yesterday Matt and I rode a familiar route from the Fort to Pine Point. Because few people were riding in the 30-something-degree mist, it was a pretty easy, non-stressful ride primarily on a trail. We decided that it can be a good thing to ride a familiar route (although that didn't stop us from deviating slightly so that we could have one of our trademark, "Here? Right or left? Uhh..." moments).

I was thinking last night that because Matt and I ride so much together, familiarity with each other also is good. I noticed that we both signal for traffic in the same way at the same time. We pedal standing at some intersections for the same number of pedalstrokes. We have a system of dropping back and catching up that keeps us from colliding. There is so much that goes right and is not communicated on every ride, day in and day out, without even having to think about it.

Because the human brain is what it is, what sometimes gets remembered are the parts that don't always go perfectly. I appreciate that since we spend so much time together, Matt feels comfortable telling me that I am not good at telling him that he can set the pace and then riding at his pace. Thankfully, it wasn't a big deal, and it opened a door about why we were approaching four-way stops differently than in the past (my theory is that I become inconsistent the more hungry I get) as we ate some yummy pizza and drank some beer about eight miles from the finish.

So, while familiarity can allow for greater unfiltered honesty, I argue that it doesn't necessarily breed contempt. I think Matt would agree because apparently his biggest beef with me today is the fact that I don't like ranch-flavored foods. (Have I ever mentioned the intellectual rigor of our ride chats?) I suggest to you, gentle reader, that familiarity with your riding partner makes a great ride go more smoothly and gets you out on the bike even more.