Stillwater Still Life

A still life (plural: still lifes) is a work of art depicting mostly inanimate subject matter, typically commonplace objects which are either natural (food, flowers, dead animals, plants, rocks, shells, etc.) or man-made (drinking glasses, books, vases, jewelry, coins, pipes, etc.).

I wasn't still yesterday. Although I didn't ride as much as intended, I still rode around Stillwater. And, like every other place around here, it is full of water. After that, I flitted around the house and yard for hours, tying up all the loose ends before I head to St. Peter today for this week's bike ride. (In between, there was a nice respite - my friend Matt and I tried lunch at my local book store cafe. I'd never had a sunny side up egg on pizza. It's good.)

Here are some photos of most inanimate, typically commonplace, or man-made objects from the ride.

Commonplace signs, these days. I like the look on my face.
It's almost like a dare.

Mostly, but not quite, inanimate: Matt told me to look natural.
That's impossible. I like how these photos show my attempts
at stifling a laugh.

Commonplace, lately. I wanted proof that we didn't go
through the water, although I broke the day's resolution
to not ride past any "path closed" signs.

Man-made, seemingly inanimate: The new bridge between MN and WI.
The old one is not yet open as a pedestrian bridge.
This one is pedestrian-friendly, though.

Man-made, less inanimate when a lot of other
curious cyclists and walkers have the same idea. Also,
the cars are very animated, but on the other side of a barrier.

Might not be a still life, technically, but this is Stillwater.
I can't vouch for the current.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/Maggie2018TourDeMN

For whom the bell tolls, but in a good way

Every time I pass a young girl learning to master the art of riding a bike, when I'm riding my own bike, I wave or shout a compliment ("I like your bike!" "Cool helmet!" "You're so fast!"). I sometimes do it for the boys, but always do it for the girls. Before June, when on this bike, I used to ring the teapot-shaped bell that Mary and Jane gave me. 

I want to encourage them. I didn't learn how to ride a bike until second or third grade, and I never was athletic. I want them to feel as happy riding their bikes as I feel riding my bike.

Which bike is whose?

This little red bike was locked up next to mine at the grocery store on Friday. As I loaded my bags on my bike, a little girl and her mom came out of the store and unlocked the bike. The girl and I talked about our bikes. It was a highlight of the afternoon.

So, the teapot bell got knocked off this bike when it was loaded on a semi on the way to the MS150. I believe the event that wrecked my bell is also the event that broke my left shifter. Decision point: Am I still keeping this bike? Am I replacing both shifters, or just the broken one? Am I doing anything else while the cables are detached, rim tape is removed, and derailleurs are getting messed with? Yes; yes, both; uhm, yes, finally. 

Using this bike as my backup on Sunday when the other bike was disassembled and all of its innards were drying out, and riding it today (with a pannier on the rack) to A Very Nice Happy Hour on the lovely WA Frost patio while the other bike was still(!) disassembled with its new rim tape and hopefully appropriately-tightened seat post makes me really appreciative to have this old thing around. Whoa, that was a long sentence.

I'll get the other one put together and cross my fingers that the seat post clamp is adjusted appropriately before next week's 5-day ride, and then drop this bike off for repairs when I'm traveling for work. The parts are on order now. But maybe I should also get a new bell.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/Maggie2018TourDeMN

The USS Minnow

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,

A tale of a fateful trip,

That started from Minneapolis,
Without even a ship.

The mate was a mighty cycling man,

Matt making his phone was above water

The skipper dumb and sure.

The current got too strong for pedaling. We
were surrounded by minnows and saw ducklings.

Five hours set aside that day,
For what coulda been a three-hour tour, a three-hour tour

The sign said the trail was closed,
We looked at it with doubt,
Because of the stupidity of the fearless crew,
Minnows swam around the bikes, minnows swam around

We biked across the bridge to the shore across the flooded ri-ver,
And hit a fence,
T'was really high,
We handed the bikes over,
Hung off the bridge,
To get around the fence
Here on the Minn'sota River.

We crossed the fence by climbing on the outside of the bridge.
Surely unadvisable.

So this is the tale of our bike riders,
They should know better than this.
Wanting to take this route
Cycling with some fish.

The first mate and the skipper too,

Will do their very best,

To drain the water from the bikes,

Which were put to the test.

The frame, the tires, the whole dang thing!

Full of water, caked with mud.

Like a sunken canoe,

It's dirty and full of crud.

So join us here each week my friend,

You're sure to get a smile.

From two people with poor judgment,

Who'll learn better in a while.

She went down to the river on a warm summer day; the air was thick with... humidity

Apologies to Bob Mould for the crummy post title, but this is where my brain went today while out for a ride. The air was definitely thick.

At the end of the workday yesterday (Tuesday, I guess, even though it felt like Friday), I snuck in a ride to St. Paul and back. The road was closed, but I saw a guy who accurately described the existing water on the road as passable. 

Lilydale Road on Tues night

It rained all day Tuesday despite the forecast being clear. I figured I lucked out and that the water would be higher today, especially downstream from the Mississippi/Minnesota confluence. So, I decided to ride upriver today and see what happened.

It was supposed to be 90 with the heat index at 100-something, and the rain wasn't expected to hit until 1:30 p.m.

Well, I got to the Coon Rapids Dam at about 9:15 and was greeted by storm clouds that quickly turned into a 45-minute downpour, lightning, and thunder, and then drizzle afterwards. (And then more of a downpour once I was back home.) 

The Mississippi River,
looking north from the Coon Rapids Dam

The ride to the dam smelled of barbequed meats and was very philosophical in nature (e.g., people on fat tire bikes on shared ski and bike trails in the winter are probably as annoying as people on those fake ski things on the bike trail in the summer) and rather sweaty. The ride home was remarkably cooler, drenched, and largely isolated.

I stopped for a latte at a coffee shop close to home, which I drank on the outdoor patio due to my soggy gritty nature and planned out my process for cleaning up at home without getting wet grit all over the house. It was good training for the Ride Across Minnesota - hot and unpredictable. 

Last year at this time, I'd ridden 700 miles more than I have ridden this year. This might explain why my clothes are a little more form fitting this year. I'll be fine for the upcoming week-long ride and I'm pretty okay with this more slacker-y year (see my last post), but I suspect - considering how fun my rides were the past two days - I'd be a little more content if I rode more frequently in 2018. I am really looking to riding for 5 days straight the week of July 16!  

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/Maggie2018TourDeMN 

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

I suspect that I'm not unique in my battle against myself.

Although I'm happy, my brain nags me: You didn't get that work thing done. You didn't get the yard work done. You didn't pay the bills. (Oh, shit! The bills! Whoops.) You ate more cookies than needed. You should've skipped the beer. For the love of god, you trimmed the grapevines and did laundry instead of riding your bike??

Well, today, after delaying our ride from 8 til noon, and then eating lunch to kill one more hour, some teammates and I went on a lovely ride. That's when my brain settles down (so I probably *should* ride instead of trimming grapevines). And you know what? I'm doing pretty well, you dumb brain.

And, as I saw this photo of me walking over one of the many trees that fell in the storm, I realized I have nice strong calves. I'm glad this was a photo that didn't cause me to judge my posture, my belly, or arms.  Instead it offered me a view I don't normally see, my strength. I'm doing pretty well, you dumb brain.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/Maggie2018TourDeMN

How much cuteness would a woodchuck have?

The weekend after the MS150, I had planned to ride my bike when visiting my parents for what is turning out to be an annual Father's Day/Mom's birthday ritual. Alas, they got about 7 inches of rain that weekend, which meant that I played cribbage and Scrabble and ate brownies instead. I managed to get the dog out for a walk during a brief break in between downpours, which was lovely.

I haven't gotten out on my bike much during the week, these past few weeks, other than for errands and going to the coffee shop, a couple of restaurants, and a taproom. (All of which surely are great training for the MS Ride Across Minnesota). Instead, I've been devoting much of my time to something with a very low ROI - weeding and trying to get my grass to grow. My yard once was beautiful and bright. It's pretty sad at the moment. I don't even like grass, so this really is an exercise in patience.

I was able to get some endorphins in my system when I went for a ride with my friend Deb (who is doing the Ride Across Minnesota, too) this past weekend. In addition to getting away from my yard and getting a respite from current events, I saw some sort of raptor, a turtle, and a baby woodchuck. A baby woodchuck! It was the highlight of the ride. I think we all could use some more baby animals in our lives right now, yes?

I did not take this photo, which I found via Google images

 I hope I will see some equally cute critters when I ride next weekend!

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/Maggie2018TourDeMN

Everything around us becomes better too.

“When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.” 
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

I spent the past weekend riding my bike with 3500 other people. 46 of them, plus a few extra others who joined us during the weekend, are really special to me. Many of them are in this photo. 

Stacy's Cycling Supporters 2018

These riders and our team tent volunteers have gone outside of their comfort zones in their own ways. For some, it is the training and riding that is hard. For others, it is signing up for a two-day event with people they don't even know (a lot of our riders were introduced to us by a friend, or a friend of a friend). For others, it is setting an ambitious fundraising goal and asking people to donate. For others, it is skipping their kid's birthday.

My teammate Paul made this super cool video that shows a lot of our team and explains why we've done this for the past 9 years (or, in the case of Dave S. one of our two fundraisers extraordinaire, even longer):

https://www.facebook.com/paul.noll.16/videos/2098940423468512/

Matt and me finishing Day 1

Mark from the MS Society came to our tent
to tell us how our great team is.
We knew it already, but it still felt pretty fantastic,
despite the sedate look on my face.

My friend Jen, who is in the health care field, told me about a patient she saw today - a single mother in her 30s with children, who has MS and needs her mother to care for both her and her children. The woman wants to improve enough to be able to do a BikeMS event. If the woman is able to ride some year, we'd be honored to have her on our team. In the meantime, I will add her to the list of people for whom I will be riding during the Ride Across Minnesota in July.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/Maggie2018TourDeMN