Saturday, August 06, 2005
Pretty dogs, a covered bridge, and Lance
My Better Half and the Fractions are out of town. With no responsibilities at home, I decided to take a long bike ride. Too long, as it turned out; I'm expertly conditioned for sitting in the car and at a desk for long periods, but not for extended physical activity involving hills and sunlight.
I took a ride over to GCC, not for any particular reason, just that it seemed like a destination just far enough away that I could call the excursion "exercise". I got there and there were a ton of campers in the parking lot, and people were setting up tables and tents for some kind of event. Then I noticed that everyone walking around had one or more beautiful dogs with them. I saw a couple of Afghan hounds, a bunch of those big fluffy white dogs with curly tails, and various hunting breeds I recognize only from cartoons. A little web research tells me it was the Pioneer Valley Kennel Club's "All Breed Point and Obedience Show".
I must have been distracted by the dogs, because at this point I got the brilliant idea to keep riding instead of turning around and heading for home. I remembered a covered bridge across the Green River just a little ways away. So I rode up Colrain Road, uphill of course, and turned onto Log Plain Road, also uphill much of the way. And I kept going. And going. And stopped in the shade for some water and a breather. And kept going. I realized that my sense of distance unfortunately is calibrated to the effort of pushing the gas pedal, but this epiphany came at a time when it was utterly useless to me.
I should have known this would not be an easy trip when I started seeing, painted on the road, information for participants in tomorrow's triathlon. A particularly steep stretch (which I fortunately took downhill, as I was travelling in the opposite direction of tomorrow's triathletes) had the cryptic markings, "W.W.L.D.", explained a few yards later as "What Would Lance Do".
I finally did get to the bridge and was glad to see some kids and a dog swimming in the river. I sat on a rock for a while and took in the aural and visual gestalt of the water. Then it was back to the hills--mostly but not all downhill now. I was so spent I almost didn't make it up the little bump of a hill at the foot of my street.
I took a ride over to GCC, not for any particular reason, just that it seemed like a destination just far enough away that I could call the excursion "exercise". I got there and there were a ton of campers in the parking lot, and people were setting up tables and tents for some kind of event. Then I noticed that everyone walking around had one or more beautiful dogs with them. I saw a couple of Afghan hounds, a bunch of those big fluffy white dogs with curly tails, and various hunting breeds I recognize only from cartoons. A little web research tells me it was the Pioneer Valley Kennel Club's "All Breed Point and Obedience Show".
I must have been distracted by the dogs, because at this point I got the brilliant idea to keep riding instead of turning around and heading for home. I remembered a covered bridge across the Green River just a little ways away. So I rode up Colrain Road, uphill of course, and turned onto Log Plain Road, also uphill much of the way. And I kept going. And going. And stopped in the shade for some water and a breather. And kept going. I realized that my sense of distance unfortunately is calibrated to the effort of pushing the gas pedal, but this epiphany came at a time when it was utterly useless to me.
I should have known this would not be an easy trip when I started seeing, painted on the road, information for participants in tomorrow's triathlon. A particularly steep stretch (which I fortunately took downhill, as I was travelling in the opposite direction of tomorrow's triathletes) had the cryptic markings, "W.W.L.D.", explained a few yards later as "What Would Lance Do".
I finally did get to the bridge and was glad to see some kids and a dog swimming in the river. I sat on a rock for a while and took in the aural and visual gestalt of the water. Then it was back to the hills--mostly but not all downhill now. I was so spent I almost didn't make it up the little bump of a hill at the foot of my street.
