Yesterday was a great day. I was outside a whole bunch and accomplished
many little tasks. These were things I
wanted to nail before the predicted rain of last night arrived. Things like
vacuuming-up the seeming mountains of birdseed hulls under the bird feeders,
raking and smoothing some of the ruts left by the tree removers earlier in the
week, and a few other odds & ends that, in my mind, just needed to happen
before the rain. If you share any of my blessing
& curse OCD tendencies, you know exactly what I am talking about.
My front window, near my desk,
looks out on the College Green Park. While enjoying a great cup of Colectivo
coffee I was standing at this window checking things out. I noticed some white
patches in the woods just west of the park.
I couldn’t quite make out what they were so retrieved my binoculars from
the rear windows in the house where I keep them to observe the birds,
squirrels, chipmunks, and whatever is happening out that way. I thought these patches were jonquils but would
have been very surprised had they been in bloom yet. I couldn’t get the detail I wanted, even with
the field glasses, so I decided to walk over and check things out. That’s when I discovered several large clumps
of blooming snowdrops. I have lived in my house for 44 years, but never noticed
snowdrops in this wood before. Just goes
to show that things can be happening right under one’s snout and, if you’re not
paying attention, you miss it. Life is
like this in so many ways. I am tying
hard to be intentional about noticing things that, perhaps, I didn’t have time
to notice before the virus. Not having
the time is really a lame excuse because life is always about choices of
how we invest our time, how we respond to others and the world, how we chose to
spend our heartbeats. Here’s a spoiler –
these little woods, right across from my house on East High, very soon will literally
be carpeted with blueish purple scilla flowers. Any day now. Will you notice?
I also got to spend some great
time on the bike trail with Biker Gang Member #2, Gus. He was pushing to head out and it sure didn’t
take much to convince me. So, it was ‘bikers up’ and away we went down the
hill. I queried Gus about how far he
wanted to ride but he was non-committal in a positive way. Being an annoying grandfather,
I pursued him with questions. Did he
want to try the switchbacks today and, if so, at the beginning of our ride or at
the conclusion? He wasn’t sure. Please
realize that he’s twelve and my questions can be a bit much for him at
times. By default, we saved the
switchbacks for the end. Of course, by then we would be warmed-up, loose, and
powerful. We are legends in our minds – that keeps us going sometime. So then, I suggested he watch for things as I
would ask him his top five observations from the ride and, maybe, he could even
expand that into an essay he could turn in for extra credit or something. I noticed he was distancing himself from me a
bit more. Probably just complying with
social distancing. The ride was nice.
There was not much wind. I reduced the pace of my questions. We were most impressed by the frog “song” as
we stopped for rest at the Klug Road cul-de-sac. It hadn’t been there a few days ago (isn’t
God amazing?) and now it approached symphonic proportions. If you want to hear this yourself, you could
bike there, park your car on Bowers Lake Road and walk there, or simply drive
there from Old 26.
We stopped for another rest at
the top of the hill just north of Klug Road where there is a nice bench. We had to slurp a bit of Gatorade, sit for a
moment on something other than a bike seat, and gaze upon our outdoor
realm. From the bench, I pointed out the
County N bridge about a mile to our north and just shy of that the Otter Creek bridge.
Gus was up first and ready to go on. We
rode all the way to County N where Gus announced we were reversing. It’s roughly 4.2 miles to County N from my
garage so, obviously, would be about 4.2 miles to return. Gus is a numbers whiz and I knew 8.4 or 8.5 for
the entire trip wouldn’t quite do for him.
He would want 10. So, I began to talk about 10 and how we could get
those extra couple of miles in when we got back to Storrs Lake Road. He was still non-committal about doing the
switchbacks. For those of your uninitiated to the trail, the switchbacks take
you up and over the railroad tracks that run parallel to Storrs Lake Road. If you are riding south you have a long, steep
ascent and then a nice, snake-like, descent to E. High St, (old 59). If you
start on E. High and ride north your have a steep ascent up the snake-like switchbacks
and then an amazing downhill to Storrs Lake Road. These ascents are not the Alps, but they are not
for the faint of heart or out of shape grandfathers and 12-year-old grandsons.
They are doable but challenging. Gus
decided – he was even excited about doing them so up and over we went. We lived to continue riding. We proceeded south on the trail and looped
along the RR siding under the new 59, back to, what I call, the Café 26 stop
light (great place to eat) and then up St. Mary St. to Campus Street, finishing
with a short downhill to my driveway. As
we approach the driveway I tell Gus that my odometer indicated we were at 9.95
miles. He insisted we turn down Columbus
street until we turned up 10 miles. We
hit that at Jim Lyke’s sidewalk to nowhere.
Only then could we turn back and head in the driveway. We set a tangible goal, we discussed it, we encouraged
each other, we worked hard and enjoyed ourselves and, oh, that feeling of
accomplishment! We were righteous.
But, there’s another story about
this trip that demands to be told. After
we reversed to head south, at the downhill just north of Klug Road, we saw two
riders heading toward us and they were moving.
We edged to the right to ensure they had room. They had just flown down the descent on the
south side of the Klug Road and were leveraging their momentum to head up the
incline we were heading down. In other words, they were pedaling like
crazy. One of the pair was on a recumbent
bike and as I watched, I realized I knew him.
It was Jeremy, whom I know from church, and he was pedaling with his arms.
Why, you might ask? Because Jeremy doesn’t
have the use of his legs. I was moved to
tears as, again, the impact of life and our choices hit me smack in the
face. Boy, God was knocking me around a
bit yesterday. Jeremy, pedaling with his arms was smoking up that hill,
probably faster and more powerfully than I could have had I not had Gus with me. You should know that Jeremy is an incredible
athlete – he is very involved with wheelchair basketball at UW-Whitewater. But,
Holy Moly, what I was seeing was incredible.
But there’s more. Remember those
switchbacks I was mentioning. Gus and I
had just made it to the top when along came Jeremy and his friend, once again
smoking up a major incline, pedaling with his arms. So, they had gone further north on the trail
while Gus and I were heading south, then reversed and not only caught us, but
smoked past us again on a major hill. Amazement & Humility Reigned Supreme.
What a lesson, what an inspiration,
what an incredible demonstration of our ability to face nearly anything. Life threw Jeremy an inability to use his
legs, but you should see his arms at work. Life has thrown all of us a virus
that has disrupted life as we have known it.
Let’s see what we can deliver!
#cruzan4milton#WAM
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