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I stand with Canada |
I'm going to spare you from my usual drivel about local politics and government to write about a topic about which I know even less - cycling. Yesterday, at the crack of dawn, my grandson and I rolled down the Northeast Extension and Surekill Expressway into the heart of Philly for a
cycling adventure with over 300 trail nuts from Temple's main to Ambler campuses. It's only a 21.4-mile trip, so our plan was to ride up, grab some water and head right back using our GPS app. We've ridden in and around Philly several times in the past. It's mostly flat and the greenway along the Schuylkill River is awesome. Plus, the weather was supposed to be great, with no winds and temperatures nearing 70 degrees. What could possibly go wrong?
Lots.
Last week, as Sunday approached, I kept an eye on my fancy weatherbug app. About midweek, forecasters predicted that Sunday was actually going to be a bit windy. No problem. We've been riding in windy weather since November. Just as long as it doesn't get cold.
It did. On Saturday afternoon, the weather mavens decided it was going to be both very windy and cold on Sunday morning. And it was.
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I stand with Canada, too |
My grandson Dat was going to wear his very neat Canada cycling jersey. I planned on wearing a Ukraine jersey myself, but it was shot down by an Iranian
shahed. We had to cover up with cold weather gear.
The wind was brutal. When we started on Diamond Street, headed east to Fairmount Park, we were going right into a strong wind. "They'll be behind us once we hit the park," said one cyclist. Once he said that, I knew we were screwed. All along Kelly Drive, we were still riding into the wind. One little girl on her bike actually blew away along with numerous plastic bottles. I ignored the little brat. "Every man for himself," I say.
Along Kelly Drive, lots of people are out early Sunday morning for some God-awful reason. Some ride while others walk or run. On the river, a few idiots were actually rowing. The path here is very narrow, so really you should be cautious when passing others. But riders were not. A few of them, probably the same morons who ignored red lights, insisted on playing speed demon. As the ride continued into the hills, however, they began to fade away.
Did I say hills? Yes, eventually we left the narrow but paved surface to ride along a trail aptly named Forbidden Drive. It's littered with stones that are more like boulders than typical gravel. The speed demons had now dismounted and were walking their bikes. As soon as we'd make it over one hill, there'd be another. And as if the boulders weren't bad enough, there were potholes all over the place.
And the winds? They were still either in our face or going right across us. "They'll be behind us once we hit Northwestern Ave," said the same cyclist who had already made one erroneous prediction before.
Wrong again. Though we were back on a paved surface, it's a pretty busy road with churches all over the place, and some people actually still go regularly. It was also, of course, a hill. I was forced to stop at two lights going up, and that's when my grandson made his move.
"Every man for himself," he said as he sailed away and I struggled to keep up.
When we hit Bethlehem Pike and a sharp turn to the left, I heard the same ominous winds prediction for a third time. "They'll be behind us now, I'm sure of it," said our cycling meteorologist. Like most weathermen, he was wrong again. This time, the wind blew him away.
But at least we were on paved surfaces.
Wrong again. We soon ended up on the Wissahickon Green Ribbon Trail, which is as bad or worse than Forbidden Drive, and much hillier. I missed dropping gears on one hill and am ashamed to say I had to get off. "This is the advantage of a light bike," said one cyclist as he carried his three-ounce titanium or platinum or whatever up the hill. I masked my humiliation by saying, "I meant to do that." Then I did a few shoulder presses with my bike.
After what seemed like an eternity of cold winds and hills, I heard a faint noise in the distance. It grew louder as I continued. They were Temple U cheerleaders at the finish line.
We did it. At the finish line, we got two free water bottles, a Temple T-shirt, all the water I could handle, bananas, more trail nuts, Philly soft pretzels and pizza. There was free beer for the cyclists, but I don't partake. What I did find, however, was a coffee machine inside one of the buildings, conveniently located next to a bathroom.
We had planned to ride back the way we came. It would have been downhill and I'm pretty sure the wind really would be at our backs this time. But Temple had a nice big bus and truck to take cyclists and their bikes back the main campus. I lied to my grandson and told him I feared we could get lost.
As it turns out, we probably would have. I used an app - Ride with GPS - that drained the battery on my phone. It was dead soon after we arrived at Ambler's campus.
We took the bus and made it back to Philly in time for Vietnamese food.
I have to say that, as challenging as this ride was, I loved it. Temple did a great job marking the course and had sag wagons for people who got into trouble (Nobody actually blew away that I know of). The ride was well organized, and the bus trip back started on time and was a lot quicker than the actual ride. Oh, yeah, I probably should have looked at the map.