Enjoying A Bit of the In-Between Times

The moon, getting ready to set shortly after the sun has gone down, around 5 p.m. on Nov. 15, 2012, seen from a parking lot of Rockwell Collins on my route between Mount Mercy University and home.

On Tuesday, an ancient back injury flared up unexpectedly.

It was painful to walk around campus that day.  I had an afternoon committee meeting that involved phone interviews with candidates for an important post at MMU, and I’m not exactly sure how focused I was.  Lecturing that afternoon was a bit iffy.

My instinct was to want to go somewhere and either lie down or sit still with a hot pack in my lower back, where an old knot of muscle on the lower left side sometimes painfully seizes up, the tissue gathering itself in a painful hard little ball that won’t, just won’t, relax.  The muscle in question, which I injured about 1987 or so (1987!  Come on back, get over it!) has never completely healed, and when it gets tense, it can squeeze the huge nerve that serves my left leg, spending hot pokers of pain down that limb.

I felt a few of those, Tuesday.  Luckily, not has many as I have had at other times.  Anyway, I had bicycled to work that morning, as usual.  Early in the day, I bent over to pick up something in my office—nothing big or consequential, I think it was just a random piece of paper, when my trick back muscle suddenly shouted “HELLO!  Remember that time in 1987 when your oldest daughter was a toddler and she wanted to be picked up and you forgot what your dad always said about picking things up—bend your knees, not your back—and you bent over and she and you grabbed hold and you started to straighten up when—damn—something knotted up and shooting pain started and you were practically disabled and bent over until Audrey came home and gave you drugs and a hot pack?  Just in case you forgot—HELLO!  This is a nasty-gram from your back which has neither forgotten nor forgiven you!”

Well.  Ouch.  When it strikes, the pain makes several life activities more challenging—walking among them.  Walking up or down stairs in particular.  I painfully toddled around campus that day, even going to bell practice that night.  I was a little worried about bells—besides walking, the other hard thing is reaching for anything, especially with my right arm.  I don't have a theory about why reaching with my off-arm (I'm left handed) should so hurt in my lower left back, I just know it is so.  Trust me, I know.  I didn’t know how I would react to picking up bells.

The good news is that I hold the bells with arms folded, close to the body.  It’s not the kind of reaching, arm out motion that becomes especially painful.  So bells were OK, although I could not bend over to help put the bells away at the end of practice.

So, how was I to get home?  I contemplated calling Audrey for a rescue, but decided I would try biking it.

It was a stiff, painful ride home, but honestly, not that painful.  Riding the bike felt 10 times better than walking—the trek across campus to get to my bike, a distance of ¼ mile or so, was far more painful than the 4 ½ mile ride home.

Despite the great weather Wednesday, it was a back bike holiday, and I drove.  I’m back on two wheels now, and I rode Thursday.

The picture is of an in-between time Thursday evening.  I left work at 4:40 or so, so this is just about what 5 p.m. looks like about ¾ of the way from MMU to my house.  I took this picture in a Rockwell-Collins parking lot, looking west across the flat Iowa urban prairie to where the sun has already gone down and a newish moon is also headed to the horizon.

Naturally, everybody in Cedar Rapids experienced the sunset, but I got to see the sky turning slowly dark, going from colors of yellow to peach to blue to purple, because I was biking just after sunset.  Sometimes, the in-between times are the best, a good time to feel a little relaxed, to process the day, to simply use your body in a way car drivers miss out on.

And to be grateful for a day in which ancient injuries lie at least temporarily dormant.

A Frosty First Winter Ride

Dry Creek, about 7:15 a.m. Nov. 12, 2012.  Not dry.  A buck has passed by.  Sorry you missed it.  I am glad we had 2 inches of rain Sunday--we sure needed it and it's nice to see a little water in this dry land.

OK, it was cold. So cold that I almost (almost) was in full winter regalia:  Long underwear, two pairs of socks, hood on under my helmet, winter gloves on my hands.

It was cold.  The thermometer sign at Walgreen's said it was 23, although that sign is usually of, shall we say, iffy veracity.  KCRG said it was upper teens in the countryside, low 20s in town.

Well, a brisk wind was blowing, and my ears and feet got a bit cool when I faced into the wind.  Sadly, the wind seemed to be from the southwest and I was heading west and south for pretty much my whole ride.

Still, the winter gear proved adequate.  What was I missing in my winter gear?  In the dead of winter, I’ll wear a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater or sweatshirt, and a scarf.

The ride was a bit rushed—I had to leave by 7:15 because I had an 8 a.m. appointment that I could not be late for.  But I stopped to snap a photo of the now wet Dry Creek from the C Avenue Bridge just south of my house.   A buck had crossed under the bridge and headed east—he was gone before I could unholster my Canon, but I like how the creek, with water in it for once, looked in the cold morning light.

The frozen puddle is at the corner of H and 30 something—may 33rd Street?  Whatever street runs to Elmhurst Country Club.

There were a few icy patches on the ride, but nothing that posed any real danger.  All in all, with the right clothes, not a bad ride.  Still, it’s OK with me if the howling winds either die down—at stay from the same direction.  I won’t mind a tailwind during the ride home in the dark tonight!

Frozen puddle by the side of the road.  But the pavement was mostly bare, not difficult to ride on at all.

A Late Season Warm Day For a Ride

Cedar Valley Nature Trail headed north from Hiawatha--afternoon is still warm and lots of people are on the trail.

I don't know why I like this view of a telephone pole.  It's at "Schultz Road," where the pavement ends and I turned around.  Note there are more clouds now, got sprinkles now and then, too.

Lots of people had the same idea as I did.  At midday today, I raked my backyard for probably the last time this fall, but before that shot some pictures of pretty fall leaves.

You can check those out on Facebook.

Then, after lunch, I left home for a bike ride.  I headed north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail.

I was dressed in shorts and a bike jersey—on Nov. 10!  It was warm, probably around 70.  As I rode, however, the wind picked up, the sky clouded over and even some sprinkles fell.  It never really got too cold, but had definitely chilled.

Still, as Saturdays in November go, it was a glorious day to be on the trail.  I didn’t got as far as Central City, but turned around when the trail pavement ended.

Heading back to Cedar Rapids meant riding into the wind, and I was climbing a “wind hill” the whole way.  There had been a lot more people on the trail earlier in the afternoon.  I got home just a bit before 4, and was riding with lights on.

I got to enjoy many critters along the ride--I stopped at one point to try to photograph a woodpecker, but it moved on too quickly.  I saw many birds, and in the dim light as I was headed home, a deer casually sauntered across the trail probably 20 yards ahead of me.

I’m glad I rode today.  The forecast is for a cold and rainy Sunday, followed by a chilly week next week.  The high temperature Monday is supposed to be 32 degrees—I’ll need warm socks that day!  Well, lets be grateful for a late fall fine day and a good trail to ride.

Sky in the west along an open stretch of the trail in the afternoon.  I think of it as a "God" sky with the beams of light showing through holes in the cloud cover.

The Road That I Used To Travel

The usual road home is blocked by an accident.

Sky before my ride seen at MMU.

I was biking home Friday at dusk—around 4:30, and when I turned to head north on Eastern, my usual route, I saw that there had been a traffic accident at the corner of Eastern and 29th Street.

Bummer.  I hope nobody was hurt.

Anyway, I proceeded along 27th to Lindale and turned north there, and ended up riding home on E Avenue in front of Kenwood School.  When I first started biking to work, this was my usual route, until I discovered the utility of the route that runs on quiet streets behind Kenwood School.

It’s odd how stuck on a route you can be when you regularly go from point A to point B.  You find a way that works and you’re comfortable with it for months or even years, and then an accident or road construction forces you to find another way.  Later, you have to decide if the old habitual route was best, or if you like the new one.

Because it avoids the school traffic and crosses two busy streets at better spots, I’ve taken to the new route.  It felt a bit weird riding the old one, like I was in a time machine going backwards.  The weather was nice and ride was fine, it just felt a bit “wrong,” like sitting in the wrong pew in church.

Which, I think, is a good idea, now and then.  Get out of your comfort zone and see the world or your bicycle route with new eyes from a new perspective.

I should do this now and then when there is no accident.

Most bugs are gone, but on a warmish afternoon, a few are around.  Saw this guy on the central campus of MMU as I was headed across campus to go get my bike and head home.

The Day After The Election, Christmas is Here

The Christmas Deer appear, the day after the election.  Ho, ho, ho.

So, on a cool ride in the new morning dark, a light shone.  Not exactly like an unexpected new star.

It was a pair of deer in a yard on F Avenue, surely not a rare sight in this part of Iowa where deer are commonly found and often feast in yards.  But, these deer are different.  They are clearly Christmas deer, decorations for the holiday season.

Sunrise At Kenwood School

Sunrise in a cloudy sky this Monday.  Very pretty.

Yes, I know it’s been done—in fact, I did it myself last week—but please excuse yet one more picture of the morning sun at Kenwood School.

And, below, at the corner of 42nd Street and E Avenue, a bit north and a few minutes before the top photo.

Yes, it was a fine morning—warm compared to what we’ve had lately, lighter due to the weekend clock change and a bit damp.  Damp is not good news for a biker, but I can’t feel anything but good about wet in this drought year.

Happy Monday!  And welcome to the morning light/afternoon dark season.  I’ll be using my lights pretty much every day for the afternoon commute, and the midday sun will continue its cruise to southern climes.  Well, I hope Paraguay won’t feel too baked as they enter their late spring, early summer time in the southern hemisphere—Jon, is there any chance you’ll eventually get a bike down there?  For us in the north, we’re n the dark phase of the year.

Dark, but still practical for this bicycle rider until the ice and snow come.  Let us hope there’s not too much of that—even if I do like H2O from the sky!

Sideways, blogger, really?  The photo is not that way on my computer.  Anyway, sunrise at 42nd Street and E Avenue.

A Cool, Cloudy Ride Turns Sunny

view of bridge on the trail.

Me and Mr. T on the the "brand new bridge."  He's too shy to look at the woman taking the photo.  Or perhaps just too focused on the creek.

Bare trees and clouds reflect in Indian Creek from what Tristan calls "the brand new bridge."

Late in the ride, headed north, towards the old railroad bridge.  Nice day in late fall.

There have been plenty of cool morning rides lately—an entire week of lows in the 20s.

That has made it a really good biking week.

When I got home Friday, the grandchildren had already arrived.  We were keeping Nikayla, Tristan and Amelia, ages 4, 2 and 1, overnight.  Tristan assured me that I was his friend, something he often tells me, and he bestows the title of “friend” very parsimoniously.  His grandmother, who he adores, is not his friend.  Neither are the most important people in his life, his parents.

Why do I earn the coveted, rare title of Friend of Tristan?  Well, when he tells me I’m his friend, he usually also explains:  “You take me on bike rides.”

Anyway, on Saturday mornings, Nikayla has a dance class, and Amelia, who often tries to emulate her older sister, loves to go watch.  So this morning, Audrey took the girls to dance, while I took the boy for a boy bonding journey, a friendship fiesta—a bike ride.

We started out about 9:30  It was cool and cloudy, fairly quiet on the trail.  After a week of frosts, the bugs are gone, though not the birds.  We had not gone far when we started to hear and see some birds, including a big red-headed woodpecker who landed on a dormant tree just beside the trail.  It was closer than I’m used to seeing this bird, and I stopped to try to take its photo, but it sped off.

No matter, on we went.  Tristan had asked that we go check on Thomas—he remembered a recent Wednesday ride when we headed down the Cedar River Trail to the railroad tracks near Cedar Lake.  I knew today I didn’t have time to ride down to Quaker Oats and back, so I suggested the Boyson Trail by pointing out that we could cross many bridges, and he agreed.

He was a bit subdued.  He had slept in and was in a contemplative mood.  He didn’t narrate the ride, as he usually does, but happily replied to my questions, and quietly commented now and then, such as noting that a “plane is in the sky” when we heard the sound of an small single-engine prop-powered aircraft.

We proceeded down the trail, crossing and recrossing the bridge that leads to the Marion High School football field.  I rode on the new trail down to Menards, and when we turned to go back, Tristan wanted to cross the “brand new bridge” again—it’s the longest bridge on the trail and Tristan calls it that because it was brand new the first time we crossed it.

We stopped at the bridge to watch the water and so I could take his picture.  A jogger came up, and asked us if we wanted her to take our picture.  I said “yes,” but then Tristan was too shy to look at the camera woman.

We headed down to the park end of the Boyson Trail and then north again.  When we got to the north end, Tristan said he was ready to go to grandma’s house, so we didn’t go back to the trail that goes behind Walgreens, but instead went directly home.

As we had ridden along, the sky slowly cleared, the wind died down and I was rather warm by the time we finished.  I think Mr. T was too—I had put leggings under his pants and two pairs of socks on him, and Audrey had found him a thin hat to wear under his helmet.

All in all, it was a very nice ride.  I took some pictures along the way.  The photo that I found most interesting was one of Tristan during our bridge stop.  He looks sad, and a tear is rolling down his cheek.  It’s a heartbreaking picture—boy of sadness—and totally misleading.  His mood was upbeat all ride long, even if a bit subdued—he was happy and pleased to be out on his bike seat.  I think he looks “sad” only because that’s his thoughtful face while he gazes at the stream.  He was happy to be there and I was glad to have him.  His older sister has outgrown the bike seat, and he is starting to get a bit tall for it, too—I’m afraid this will be his final fall riding this seat with his friend.  We do have a trailer that larger kids can sit in that we attach to Audrey’s bike, so I’ll still be able to take him biking some.

But, sometime in the months that follow, after he has turned 3, he’ll just be too big to ride on this seat anymore.

I know today his tear was not of sadness at all.  It’s just a reaction to the cool breeze of the ride and some dust in the air.

Yet it seemed to symbolize, to me, the coming end of our biking partnership, at least in his present form.  Granted, that’s not for a while—but that day will come.

For Christmas this year, I’ll be looking so see if I can find some other form of device to attach to my bike so I can continue in the new year to cycle with my friend—and hopefully with his older sister, too.  And the small seat in front will be for younger grandchildren, new biking friends of the future.

Why the tear?  He is not sad.  In fact, I think he loved the ride.

Friday, sunrise over Kenwood School.  The week has been full of this kind of morning--a good reason to be a biker.