Finally, the Adirondacks

While I was eager to ride around the Finger Lakes, I was most excited to cycle through the Adirondacks, as I haven’t been here since the Lake Placid Ironman in 2008. As my mom, Nancy, and Sarah can attest, it rained all day, making for a challenging 180 km on the bike. I still remember clutching my brakes on the long descents while other cyclists roared past. How did I ever swim 3.8 km before the ride, and run a marathon after it???

Today was entirely different. To begin with, there was no rain, despite some menacing clouds, and at no point was I racing. Anything but. It was a very relaxed day, and though I climbed 1200 meters, there were no hills over 8% grade. I just puttered along, knowing I was not in a rush to arrive at the motel.

Lest I make it sound too easy, I did have to start by navigating from the south of Amsterdam through the city, before getting on Route 30 North. I took the pedestrian bridge over the Mohawk River, then had to push my bike up three flights of stairs to reach the overpass for the freeway as the elevator was out of service. The upside was that both the pedestrian bridge and overpass offered great viewpoints.

I then rode on back streets and sidewalks to avoid the commuters who seemed desperate to get to work, or at least to join the cue for Dunkin Donuts. Once I got beyond the roar of traffic, I relaxed, feeling grateful for the great road with a generous shoulder, and for the many rivers and lakes along the route.

When I reached the town of Speculator, I stopped to buy groceries since there would be nothing close to the motel I had booked. I went to the Mountain Market, which was doing a steady business at the lunch counter, and I ordered a sub. When it was ready, instead of calling out my name, the young man spelled it out. I laughed out loud, then took the sub for R.O.B.I.N. and packed it in my knapsack for later.

The clouds got a little darker, but it never rained. I arrived to the most charming motel, I have ever stayed at, called The Lorca. From the pinewood floors to the comfy duvets and cheerful blankets, the room is warm and inviting. The lighting is golden not cold and sterile, and the touches around the place make it feel so cozy. I really recommend it, if you are ever in the area. It is named after the poet, Frederico Garcia Lorca, and there is a copy of Joan Didion’s Play It as It Lays, and a collection of Walt Whitman’s poetry in the room. It is owned by a group of friends who bought the mid century motel and transformed it into a meditative space where the focus is on nature, meaning no tvs in the rooms. I will be reading some of Didion’s exacting insights on the moral decay of the US, rather than witnessing it myself on Fox News.

Tomorrow I have a brief 80-90 km ride to Tupper Lake, where I plan to spend the day hanging out in the donut shop/laundromat, and perhaps the library. I fear it will be too chilly for the beach. In fact there may be frost this evening.

For now, I will bid you adieu and will go and make myself a cup of hot chocolate.

PS here is my effort to capture Indian Lake from the dock at the marina.

Harder Than It Sounds?

A friend emailed me after reading yesterday’s blog (thanks Ann), suggesting that I made the ride sound so easy; her observation made me think about how we shape our experiences, and how they appear to others. Even if we are trying to be as honest as possible, we need to select certain details over others, lest we bore the reader, and ourselves, with the minutiae.

As I have said in past posts, were I to sit down and write the blog in a middle of a ride, which I don’t have the patience to do, I might sound much more grumbly.

I might talk about the lower back pain I get on really long climbs, or the searing pain I get in my neck and shoulders if I don’t stop to stretch properly throughout the day. If I really felt like sharing, I might tell you about the chafing I get when I don’t put on enough chamois cream.

I definitely have my moments of discomfort, and at the end of many days, I feel prickly and weary, but then the late afternoon  sun bathes the world in a golden light, as it did today, and I feel good again.

I also have moments of irritation when I veer off course, as I did several times today, especially in Rome, not the nicest town, when I got myself all turned around.

These are all minor setbacks, though, and they pass, which is something I have learned through my long rides, marathons, and even Ironmans. What is vital is not to become hyper focused on the discomfort. When I am on a trip like this, where I have booked every night, I don’t spend energy debating whether to continue or to stop. One of the nicest compliments I received was from my friend, Jody, who said I will always keep going until I get where I need to go. That sort of dogged determination seems to serve me well.

Today I was doing battle with a bit of a headwind. There were stretches where I could really feel it pushing at me, and I braced against it, but then the wind would lessen, and I would lean into those moments and enjoy them.

I am no Pollyanna, enjoying every single moment and smiling relentlessly, which, I fear, might make me look slightly unhinged, but I do try to be present and to redirect my energies when they veer towards lamenting the imperfections of any given moment. And if I really need to shift my attitude, I will make myself list ten things for which I am grateful. I usually don’t get beyond the fact that I am incredibly privileged to be able to make these trips before my mood lightens considerably.

All of this is to say that these trips may not be as easy as they sound, but they are as magical as they sound.

To finish, today’s highlight was meeting another cyclist, Ken, with whom I had an awesome chat. He was friendly and generous, and he lifted my spirits and made me look forward to the rest of the day of cycling, so thanks Ken.

Oh, yes, here are some photos from today’s ride, along the Erie Canal Trail.

A Perfect Autumn Day

The day began under cloudy skies, a perfect backdrop for the pumpkin patch I wandered through. I might be wrong, but I think it was a better place to capture a sense of autumn than at a pumpkin stand.

After I climbed back on the bike and started into the hills, the fog or clouds slowly burned off, and it turned into another sunny day, with temperatures perfect for cycling.

My first stop was Skaneateles, where I had a great latte at the Vermont Green Mountain Speciality Co, and met a cyclist who had moved from Montreal to the area some 30 years ago. I also chatted with a lovely woman who had grown up in the area, and who had all kinds of suggestions for my ride. She also invited me to stop at her place for lunch, but I had already ridden past her place so I reluctantly declined, as I genuinely enjoyed my conversation with her. (Janine she reminded me so much of you!)

From Skaneateles, I headed east on the Cherry Valley Turnpike, which might aptly be named the Apple Picking Trail, as there were many farms along the route, offering a chance to pick your own apples, or to munch on a fresh apple fritter. Did I long for an apple fritter? You bet. Was I willing to tackle jammed parking lots, over stimulated children, and cranky parents? Not on your life. I kept pedalling past them all, grateful for the wide shoulder that kept me well away from traffic. It was a stunning ride with plenty of steep climbs, and I was grateful for my arm sleeves and wind vest on the long descents.

When I reached Cazenovia, I headed north on the Chittenango Gorge road, which was the highlight of the day. Suddenly the traffic disappeared, and I was in blissful silence, winding along on a newly paved road, the leaves gold and red in the trees on either side of me.

I am so glad I changed my route plans this morning. I had originally intended to head north from Cortland to Syracuse, then get on the Erie Canal Trail, but I didn’t feel like navigating Syracuse, and wanted to enjoy more lakes and climbs. Well I got my wish. This ended up being my biggest day of climbing, with lots of 9-12% grade. Suffice to say I spent plenty of time in the biggest cog (easiest gear).

From  the town of Chittenango, it was a quick dash east to Canastota, where I am staying near the Boxing Hall of Fame. It is a very small town with some nice old homes, and tree lined streets. I just walked to downtown and back in the golden sun of late afternoon, feeling grateful for this perfect autumn day.