Where have all the mulberries gone?

Today's ride was my second annual Oktoberfest visit to Badger Hill brewery in Shakopee. I meet Dan there after he mountain bikes at a nearby trail, we have a beer together, and we buy beer glasses we don't need.

While I often remark on the majestic Mississip, the Minnesota River is nothing to scoff at. I passed over it a few times today, including when on the Bloomington Ferry Trail bridge, which is where I ate handful after handful of mulberries mid-ride in June. Sadly, I just ate a Clif bar there today.

I was glad to get this relatively short ride in before it started raining. I spent the rainy late afternoon at the cheap theater with my nephews, watching Wonder Woman. I'm glad that they don't question woman superheroes and just accept that they are badasses, and also that they will hang out with their crochety old aunt,  even joining her for dinner, in exchange for a movie ticket and some snacks.

du Lhut

I skipped what would've been a good weekend to bike in either bike-friendly Mpls or bike-friendly Duluth to instead explore Duluth with Dan and one half of my parents.

The highlight of the weekend definitely was touring Glensheen Mansion, which I've driven by a ton of times, but never visited. I liked it better than the railroadeer James J. Hill House - probably because it was so well preserved with original furnishings. I like to think of the super rich Congdons (rich due to good mining investments in MN and orchard investments in the Pacific NW) and the Hills in the same era, schmoozing like the characters from a British TV show. Or from a Wooster and Jeeves book. 

Anyhow, here are some photos, with captions! (Oooh la la.)

Sat a.m. sunrise from our Airbnb

Glensheen pier in Lake Superior. A big portion was removed, and this piece was grandfathered in.

There's a little ol' Leprechaun striking a senior portrait pose
on this bridge over the creek next to Glensheen.

Fancy servants' entrance. They think the Congdons
were extra nice to their servants
because they had such humble beginnings.

This foyer is pretty much all that reminded me of the Hill House.

Such beautiful windows throughout; highly impractical, I'd think, considering the location.

Check out the color of these lampshades when turned on.

Same ones, when turned off. There were a lot of fixtures like that,
but these were the best photographed ones. And I like the style.

My favorite room! The breakfast room.
The glass was painted, rather than stained glass.

The breakfast room from another angle, showing how green it was,
highlighting the wood, and showing the fancy butler's pantry.
That fountain on the wall was used to water all the plants that used to fill this room. Sigh.

My dad at Gooseberry Falls. He and I kept taking pictures of each other
because our lame travel companions hate having their photos taken.

Duluth is named after a French explorer, who first visited the area about 335 years ago. That's ancient history for Minnesota...

Holy sh*t

I am still flabbergasted.

It was a great post-work, 40+ mile ride, muchly in the dark. Near the end of it all, the manhole cover I rode over must have been a bit deeper set than it appeared.

I hit it, both my hands shot up off my handlebars, I swerved yet maintained immediate control likely due to being clipped in, and caught my handlebars with the insides of my wrists when my arms came back down. I'm amazed I didn't crash to the ground, am even more amazed I didn't crash into Matt, and am very appreciative that he is a totally unflappable rider.

I had been planning on posting either about my sweaty fast ride this past weekend or the pretty yet short fall rides I've taken around town, but really, all I can keep thinking is exactly what I said to Matt after disaster was averted: "Holy Sh*t!"

Caught between two extremes

I spent a lot of time on my bike this past weekend, and then not at all since. Still haven't figured out my new work routine.

Saturday's highlight was a slow moving bike tour of St. Paul buildings designed by Cap Wigington, a lead civil architect of the first half of the 1900s - - a noteworthy accomplishment, given the fact that he experienced a lot of racism as an African American. Coolest thing to learn? He designed most of the winter carnival ice palaces that have ever existed.

We went to a church he'd worked on - St. James A.M.E. (African Methodist Episcopal). Interestingly, the congregation built its first church in 1880 (scraping together gifts averaging $0.55). The first A.M.E. church was started about 100 years earlier after the Methodists were total jerks, in short, to their own church members who were black.

Sunday, I rode as fast as possible to and from yoga, met some Bike MS teammates and did a nice ride that meandered along the Mississippi, ate a great burrito, and bought myself a glass mosaic at the neighborhood art crawl. The mosaic artist has a lot of her stuff on display at the coffee shop where I ate my burrito, and I've been admiring it for months. Her work, not the shop or the burrito. Although I would recommend the burrito without hesitation. Plus the coffee shop now sells beer, which goes great with burritos.

Tonight's MS Society fundraiser event was a good reminder to me of why I do much of what I do on a bike. I'm lucky to be able to support their work.

Excuses, excuses

On the bright side, I do not have a blood clot in my leg again, I managed to get my flu shot, and clinic staff think I am fit.

I *am* curious to know what the heck is up with this weirder-than-my-normal-swollen-ankle-tendonitis-10-day mystery calf pain and new random swollen calf patch.

I was going to take my fat tire bike on a dirt trail tonight. Are leg ultrasounds and the embarrassment of being seen in my least flattering undies the lengths I go to, to avoid trail riding??

Seriously, though, I suspected that all was fine (my only risk factors that are the same as in 2010 are my genes), but if there's anything I learned this year from a good friend's experience is that you don't mess around with the vascular system.

And now, to reschedule that trail ride...

The Power of Music

As we are headed to Duluth to see country/folk musician John Prine [our debate in the car (me: "it's country, admit it"; him: "no, it is folk") was settled by Wikipedia], we are listening to U2's Joshua Tree album again.

Last night's discussion of this tour being the 30th anniversary of the first Joshua Tree tour reminded me that I'm kinda old.

It apparently has been 30 years since I was a freshman in high school, meeting the cool, public-school skateboarding boys at the library, trying cigarettes in Jones Park (so glad they were disgusting), listening to this album a ton, agreeing with my friend Adrienne that the drummer was the hottest member of the band (uh, not anymore - yikes!).

It is amazing to me how things like scents or music can strip away decades and return you to a point in time.

When my grandma was in her final years, she mentioned to me that her body felt old and she surely was wiser, but she still felt like the same person as when she was a young girl. I get that, especially when I sit here singing about running to stand still and one tree hills.

A few of my favorite things (Sept 3 and 4 bike ride edition)

1. Riding on new routes (e.g. I'd never heard of Centerville before, much less ridden there).

2. Missed turns and unexpected discoveries (thumbs up to Egg Lake Road).

3. Riding by lakes, horses, and cows.

4. Taking unflattering photos of myself because they make me laugh (cue sweaty grey hair and crinkly eyes).

5. Being able to offer others something that I had been carrying on my bike just in case, like a snack.

6. Not being the one with a flat tire.

7. Standing at a familiar vista point and seeing something unexpected (like a tall sailboat on the Mississippi).

8. Riding where a race just ended and there are lots of biffies.

9. Chocolate chili brownies.

10. Being able to take the lane less stressfully due to riding with someone (and even better when it's around a pretty lake).

11. Lemonade stands.

12. Having the windy, cold rain storm pass through after I'm home.