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July 28--Late day sun seen on the new trail bridge linking the Lindale Trail with the Grant Wood Trail in Marion. One of my frequent biking spots.
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One reason I’m a biker is that I like the outdoors—in all seasons. The flowers of spring, the greens and sun of summer, the colors of autumn, the stark landscapes and quiet of winter—it’s all pretty to me.
But I can do without eating extra protein as I ride, thank you very much. I like watching the birds and deer and bunnies and snakes and bees and butterflies—I just don’t want to chomp on them during a ride.
Yet sometimes I have no choice. When did it happen? I didn’t record the date, but my bike computer records a short ride late on July 28, a Sunday. That could have been the ride where it happened.
I was riding a bit later than usual, doing a quick ride before it became full dark. As I often do these days for a quick ride, I rode down the Lindale Trail. The new bridges into Marion, the new side creek trail off of the Boyson Trail that leads back to Boyson Road near 10th Street—there are just more riding options there than there were in past, and it’s easy to pick up some quick miles.
And pick up some bees.
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Aug. 10--A bee on a coneflower in my front garden. Not "that' bee, since this is a full daylight shot.
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I was enjoying the evening. As the light faded, the heat of the day was gone. There was a pleasant chill in the air, and the trail was busy with bikers and hikers out enjoying a fine twilight.
It was such a quick ride that I didn’t even bother to take a water bottle. A mistake, given what happened.
I was probably ¾ of a mile from home, headed west on the Lindale Trail, riding with lights on in semi-light. In the deep shade of some trees, I caught a glimpse of something in the air, headed right to left, crossing the trail directly in front of me. I was zooming along, mouth breathing, and whatever it was, it did not make it.
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Aug. 7 image of late day on the Lindale Trail, probably about the place where it happened, a bit later and darker than this.
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Collision. Two bodies in motion. One small, insect size, one a 250-pound pudgy old hairless ape, zooming along at 12 mph or so. The small body entered the open cavity of the large body and smashed into the back of the big ape’s throat.
I felt a quick choke and a sharp pain, and involuntarily swallowed. Whatever it was, it was an uncomfortable size to suddenly gulp down. The bug’s life may have quicky ended in my digestive juices, but not before its final act—to defensively sting me in the back of my throat.
My throat immediately felt intensely sore. I gasped a bit and worried about my airway staying open. A water bottle with some cool liquid to sooth me would sure have come in handy. I slowed, but proceeded with the ride.
Well, luckily I was still breathing when I got home. I reported what I thought was a bee sting to my wife, a nurse. She gave me some cold medicine and some ibuprofen, and then we both Googled about throat stings.
Yikes! As usual, the internet was in some ways way too helpful. “You’ll be fine,” one site said. “Go to the emergency room now!” another screamed. “A biker in Spain was stung by a bee in his throat and died” a helpful story reported.
Well I’ve never been to Spain. The music may be nice, but whatever doomed insect (bee, bumble bee or wasp) that I ingested merely left me with anxiety and a sore throat.
We stayed up a bit late that night, my wife, my oldest daughter (who was visiting) and I. My wife inspected by throat but saw no stinger—although from the size of the creature I unexpectedly choked down, I suspected it was a wasp or bumblebee, which maybe was lucky because I didn’t have to reenact the online story of the doctor who plucked a stinger from his own uvula. No honey bee committing suicide by leaving its barb lodged in me, although even a creature with a smooth stinger didn’t survive the encounter.
The soreness grew no better that night—but no worse, either. I was able to sip ice water and never had trouble getting air, although swallowing was painful.
That night, my daughter said the next day, she got up to go to the bathroom and was worried because it was quiet. “Is dad OK?” she worried. Then came the loud rumble of my snoring.
“I’ve never been so happy to hear dad snore,” she said, recounting the tale.
The next day, the throat was just a bit sore, but I was already much better and I quickly recovered. So I guess the ape won that round. And I’ve had many good recent biking experiences. The visiting daughter was here with her children, and a 3-year-old grandson fell in love with biking on the Tag-A-Long seat. Almost every day, his first question to me was whether we were going on a ride. He informed me that his dad is going to buy a bike identical to mine with an identical seat so that he can continue to ride.
The grandson has two older sisters, and I went on a few rides with them, too, although they proved too tall for the Tag-A-Long. Instead, our rides were on an old tandem bike, a late 1970s era Schwinn that my wife and I use now and then.
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Aug. 11 view of Lowe Park on sunset ride. I kept my mouth shut.
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Aug. 8--Went on a 30-mile ride with my oldest sun, visiting from San Francisco. Part of the ride was out to Waldos Rock Park, where we saw the paving taking place on a section of the Grant Wood Trail headed east.
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One of my bikes in the afternoon at Mount Mercy University before my ride home. Bike commuting is underway.
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Pretty late day summer sky on the new creek trail that heads east from the Boyson Trail.
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One granddaughter helped me watch some dogs for a second daughter, and we enjoyed an 8-mile round trip on the old tandem.
My rides lately have been more frequent and shorter, as the commuting season has begun. The weather has been very nice for biking, which is lucky n this summer of extreme weather on this continent. I’ve enjoyed the sight of many deer and rabbits and butterflies—and am happy to report that, with one exception, none of them has attacked me in the throat.
So far, in 2022, I’ve rolled 1,668.3 miles. I finished July with 274.76 miles—a bit down from June and many fewer than if I had ridden RAGBRAI. A sister who was going to came down with THAT virus right before the ride, and anyway, I was too busy with family to take a week off for a bike ride. In the first 11 days of August, 86.06 miles. And one bee (or wasp) sting—may it be the last. Images of a few of the harmless creatures I've seen, including multiple ones of a snake on the Lindale Trail that did me no harm:
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Aug. 11--Saw this snake on the trail and narrowly avoided riding over it. Made it's image and then "encouraged" it to finish crossing the trail by using a stick.
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My road bike beyond the trail serpent.
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I've gently nudged the snake into the grass. Before slithering off into the cover, it doesn't act particularly grateful for my help.
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Aug. 11--Used the new creek trail off of the Boyson Trail to get to Geode Street, then headed north to ride on the Lowe Park Trail. It's great rabbit habitat, based on the many bunnies I saw there on my ride.
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Aug. 8--One the ride with my won, we encounter this family on the limestone part of the Lindale Trail. She was munching grass. The fawn was getting a drink from mom. Neither seemed too concerned about us.
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