Let love shine

The second song I ever heard by Madonna, back in MTV's infancy was "Holiday." A holiday during a global pandemic is a weird thing. Many people who could really use a holiday are busting their behinds to take care of the rest of us. Of the rest of us, I assume a majority (thank you) did what we've pretty much been doing for the last couple of months - stayed home, stayed distant. Worked in the yard.

Crabapple blossoms made my sidewalk fancy.

My grandma's little pitcher.
She was a lily of the valley fan.

I think some people expanded their bubbles to allow grandparents to see grandchildren. I get that, although I'm concerned about the mixing of bubbles. 

I talked to some friends - outside - at a distance of at least 10 feet, and went for a masked walk around the lake keeping 6 feet between my friend and me. 

Anyhow, there's this line toward the end of Holiday: 

"Let love shine

And we will find
A way to come together
Can make things better
We need a holiday."

I like the message of love and things getting better, even if (or, actually, especially if) our "coming together," is in solidarity to stay home and otherwise mask up. 

I thought about love when I rode on Saturday morning. For the first time this season, West River Road was deserted enough for me to take that pretty route along the river from downtown to my house. My whole route was pretty deserted, actually, so I shifted and took a couple of paths - not just roads - using my buff as a mask from time to time. I had some time to be alone with my thoughts.

This weekend last year was the last time I saw my Dad before he died unexpectedly in August. (I was scheduled to see him a few days after he died, sadly). Anyhow, we were in Kentucky for my cousin's wedding. My Dad texted me right away the first morning after my late flight in, asking me where my Airbnb was, so he could walk by and see it. And then, once he got there, he was too impatient to let me go about my morning routine or to let Dan sleep -  he called me on my cell phone and made me look out the window so he could wave to me and gave me instructions about where to meet him for breakfast in 30 minutes. In addition to doing extended family things, my parents, Dan, and I tried to do a poorly designed self-guided walking tour of Lexington. The four of us also went with my cousin Sarah and her husband Sam on a tour of the Woodford bourbon distillery. 

My Dad, so serious about
his lesson.

When riding, I was thinking about my Dad's impatience to see me that first morning in Kentucky. Thinking about his fierce and steady love of his family, a constant my whole life.

I was in the 3rd grade here, I think, since that
shirt and sweater also appeared in my 3rd grade
class photo.

If my Dad were still with us, he'd be so worried about us all. It would have been hard to make him stay away from his grandkids, but he would have followed the guidelines and found some goofy mask and would have texted us photos of him modeling it. I don't think he appreciated Madonna, but he would have appreciated that last part of Holiday, about coming together as community, to share love and make the world a better place.

I enjoyed having a long weekend, even it it was occasionally rainy and rather humid. I meant to ride all three days, but only rode twice; although I did walk over 8 miles today. My back was bothering me the other day, I think due to poor posture on my old bike while the new one got a new chain and cables as well as due hunching over weeds in the garden. I think it will be hard for me to do 150 miles over a couple of days in a couple of weeks, but I'll try.

I forgot that riding in the rain is better
when I put a seat cover to block
that opening. My wet and sandy
non-biking capris looked like they
were worn my a toddler who
was being potty trained.

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Action is the bridge between thought and reality.

Today was supposed to be the day of the BikeMS Twin Cities Ride. Like the day on which this was held last year, today rained a lot - all day. Unlike last year, I didn't ride today, fix a flat tire, and eat tons of donuts. Instead, because this year's ride was a #VirtualBikeMS ride, I did a 45-ish mile route yesterday, on my own, in much isolation. And I ate rather healthily, to boot.

Because my nicer road bike is in desperate need of some new shifter cables (scheduled to be replaced later this week), I took out ol' reliable - - the bike I bought when I first started doing MS fundraising bike rides 11 years ago - - my red Giant. I stuck a pannier on it, threw some snacks and some rain gear in the bag, plus some food containers to drop off on the deck of my brother and sister-in-law (a couple of weeks ago she made me some homemade Scotch eggs with eggs from their ducks) on the way home. 

This is not the bike I rode yesterday,
but I did ride with a bell, my Garmin, and
a speaker. I listened to the radio through
my phone. It was a nice change of pace.

I took the approach one would take with a BikeMS event - slow and steady, a few breaks and photos, enjoying the day and the scenery. It was grey and cool, which means it was a decent day for riding. 

I went to Mendota, over the 494 bridge (no turtles sunbathing, alas), past the Minnesota River Valley wildlife preserve, and stopped to take off my jacket by one of my favorite little oddities - a lamb farm on the backside of the Mall of America, overlooking the Minnesota River. The land is always for sale, but I hope they never actually sell it. 

A working farm, by the Mall of America.
My bike helmet was particularly
off center all day on Saturday.

I rode to the Bloomington Ferry Bridge, where no one but me was wearing a mask (decidedly different from a few weeks ago), and I went and found a place of sanctuary to eat my snack. 

A little tiny spur of the Minnesota River,
which is in the background.

Proof that I was there, and that
I didn't pull the photo off the
Internet. I was wearing my favorite
BikeMS jersey - the one
from last year's ride in the Bay Area.

You could tell the water receded not that long ago.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers' song Under the Bridge came into my mind, but none of the lyrics actually relate to my ride or, frankly, my life. I found these bridge quotes.  

“Compassion removes the walls of mistrust and builds bridges of hope, trust and beliefs.”
― Amit Ray, Walking the Path of Compassion

“Action is the bridge between thought and reality.”
― Richie Norton

“Not everyone is placid enough to build bridges over. Not everyone is submissive enough to allow dams. Some are meant to be free. Flowing.”
― Nitya Prakash

OOOH. That last one is a bit of a zinger.

It was a good ride, but my allergies were in full force. I took this photo the day before, by my house. Everything is in full bloom and smells miraculous.

While I haven't been riding my bike as much as in some prior years, a look at my, ahem, (snobby tone) historical records tells me that I'm pretty much where I was in the 2018 season as of May 17. That sort of surprises me.

Because I keep track of things, I guess, I can tell you - with precision - that these photos are from two weeks ago, when I did a quick 20-mile Sunday morning ride (the day after riding 62 miles - in 2020! it is possible!)

The Mississippi River in North Minneapolis.
Still, the signs of a decade-old tornado are obvious.

So, my goal for this year was to do the distance of the three MN BikeMS rides roughly during the time I would have done them if we were doing the rides as a group. That's one of the three under my belt! It will take some creativity (and, perhaps some padded shorts) on my part to get 150 miles in over the second weekend of June and 300 miles in during the third week of July, given ongoing social distancing, but I welcome the challenge.

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