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I should have posted about the great trip we took to Tucson in April to celebrate Archie's 60th birthday. We hiked, biked up Mt Lemmon (where I met Matt who has spent the last 2 years cycling around the US), watched the Huies rock climb, ate and drank around the pool, enjoyed hanging out with Spud and Tater, and were treated to a delicious dinner by my cousin John and his wife Peggy:
And I should have posted about the fun long weekend in East Wenatchee for SIR's Northwest Crank training camp.And I should have posted about riding a 400km brevet in Oregon which was a fabulous route including 7 covered bridges and, unbelievably, headwinds no matter which direction I was riding and finished hearing the same birds at 4:30am that I had heard the previous morning at 5:00am:
But what finally got me to post was the simple wisdom of my grand-nephew Henry.
On Tuesday, as I was sitting in the back seat between Henry and Bennett we were discussing the concept of "it takes a village". Here's how the conversation played out:
me: Henry, you have a village.
Henry: nope
Mary: Yes you do Henry. Who are your people?
Henry: Gramma, Boppa (grandpa), Mama, Dada...
me: Aren't I in your village?
Henry: nope
me: Well I'd like to be in your village. How do I get in?
Henry: Open the door!
Last year when some of my rando buddies started riding crazy amounts I kept saying they were nuts and that I needed time to recover between long rides. At least a week, maybe two, and three weeks in between would be lovely. I don't know when that logical approach got away from me but when I returned from Switzerland in mid-March I rode a very sensible 200k brevet and didn't feel trashed afterward. Knowing the Bellingham organizers were planning to target a nice day for their workers' ride (pre-ride) for the 300k I asked to join in. Turns out that would be only 4 days after my 200k. Luckily the group included Ralph and Carol on their tandem and Mark T so I had plenty of great drafting companions. Still, I was pretty tired by the time we finished and then still had to try to rustle up something to eat, drive home from Burlington, and get cleaned up before hitting the sack at about 3am. Luckily my sweetheart of a husband answered the 5:20am call from my sister for a ride to the airport so I could sleep a bit longer. A few more days rest and I headed out for a "short" weekend ride with the Cycle Tuesdays gang - which means intensity! I was still feeling like I had recovered well so when Mark sent out a note to the SIR list for a mid-week permanent on Thursday before the big storm hit I just fell right into the trap.
Company was great, route was good, weather wasn't quite as nice as we'd hoped but manageable and we got to see lots of friends along the way. Michael Gray, Mark, Vinnie, Dave Harper, and myself rolled out from University Village at 7:30, stopped in Snohomish at the bakery for some fuel and a tube change for me and then on to Granite Falls. I was doing pretty well and even taking a few pulls for the team but any uphill made my legs feel like lead. After Granite Falls we did the undulations along Lake Roesiger and hit some very nice pastoral roads heading into Monroe. By this time Dave had to take up babysitting duties and paced me nicely along trailing after the other riders. Early in the morning we'd seen Kole (after having ridden a 400k the day before - as had Vinnie!) on his way to work. Along the Snoqualmie River Road we came across Kent Peterson out for a jaunt planned to intersect our gang. We spent some time chatting with him and enjoying refreshments in Carnation.
Next up, Issaquah-Fall City Road. A road that meets my definition of the Irish "a terrible beauty". It is a quiet, forest-lined road that kicks my butt every time. As said butt was already dragging a bit the kicking didn't take much effort. Vinnie managed to adjust his usual quick climbing pace to my slow slog and kept me company all the way. That's after he'd already waited for me before Carnation when I dropped off chatting to Kent and then getting stuck at a light. After this we saw Mike McHale and Jim Rupert just finishing up an afternoon ride and they turned around to ride with us for a short time and say hi. That left just getting to the I-90 path, a little jaunt around Mercer Island and back north to University Village. Now Mark was on duty shepherding me along as I got slower and slower on each hill. When we reached Mercer Island I called Robin at work so he could meet up with us on the other side of the lake and join us for dinner at the end. I started off in pretty good shape through the winding curves on the east side but once we hit the rollers on the west side of the island the wheels completely fell off and it was a real slog-fest from there to the finish. Mark showed incredible patience (as had all the guys the entire day) and got me back in one (albeit pitiful) piece. A big mug of beer and a bacon blue burger never tasted so good!
Next morning result - yes I do it for the glamour! If only my bike and I could defy gravity on the hills the way my hair defies gravity after going to bed with it damp!
Now, I'm going to take a long recovery break - really - don't even think about asking me to do a long ride - I mean it!
I don't read or watch the news every day. Too much emphasis and top stories about war, hate, violence, and other bad stuff. A step outside into the "real" world time and again gives me a perspective I much prefer. A little example from yesterday:
My travel itinerary was a car ride from Lucerne to Zurich, flight from Zurich to Frankfurt, flight from Frankfurt to Washington DC, flight from Washington DC to Seattle. The first 2 steps went off without a hitch. In Frankfurt we deplaned onto the tarmac and caught a shuttle bus to the terminal where I went down various hallways, several flights of stairs, and was halfway down a "disappearing into the horizon" moving walkway when I realized I didn't have my purse. Yes, the purse with my passport, money, credit cards, phone, boarding passes, etc. I swung a leg over the handrail, jumped off the moving walkway (long legs come in handy at times like this), and headed back the way I had come but didn't REALLY know where I had come from. I found the Lufthansa gates and was told I needed to go to lost and found. Funny thing is - lost and found wasn't easy to find - ironic? yes, I think so. I eventually found Lufthansa's Baggage Tracing desk. I had kept it together pretty well until then but after getting out that I had left my purse on the plane or the shuttle bus I could no longer speak without the threat of a full tearful breakdown. The lovely Lufthansa agent asked which flight I'd been on and I couldn't remember the number - just that I had come from Zurich. A nice man behind me stepped up with his boarding pass from the same flight and asked if that had been the one - yes, thanks! Then she wanted my name but I couldn't spit it out. "Just write it down" she urged pushing a pad and pen towards me. Then she said she needed to go to another location to make some phone calls and for me to wait. I was there about 20 minutes trying to stay calm as the time for my connecting flight got ever closer. I was wondering just what one does in a foreign country with no ID and no money - would I need to get to the American Embassy? have Robin come from Lucerne to bail me out? live at the airport ala Tom Hanks in Terminal? When the Lufthansa agent returned she told me she was waiting to hear back from several areas and that I should go to my connecting flight gate and if they found it they would send it there. I tried to return the way I had come but, as that would return me to a secured area I couldn't get in (I did try but set off an electronic warning). I realized I wouldn't be able to get to my gate without my ID and boarding pass so returned to the Baggage Tracing desk. The woman was on the phone and gestured to me to wait. A few minutes later she walked over and told me they had found my purse! I was SO relieved. She had to go get it and didn't know exactly where it was so I was again instructed to wait there. Another 20 minutes or so and she was back with my purse. I had missed my connecting flight so she instructed me to go to rebooking. At the rebooking desk I explained what had happened and at first the agent told me she couldn't do anything for me. Apparently a flight booked with miles and missed due to your own stupidity doesn't qualify for rebooking (makes sense but wasn't what I wanted to hear). She then started looking closer and said the original itinerary was one that probably shouldn't have been booked in the first place as the connection time was too close - and my incoming flight had been a few minutes late - so she decided to rebook me anyway! I was so grateful! I ended up with a better itinerary on Air Canada through Calgary on a half-empty plane.
Whew - too much drama! But mostly alleviated due to the kindness and honesty of total strangers. That's the kind of news I'd like to read about more often.
Doing some backtracking here. For two weeks last August Robin and I drove visited Scotland and had a few adventures. Our friend Barbara Blacker reminded me that I had yet to share any pictures so here goes:Sunday August 2 we drove from Farnborough to Kelso, home of the ruined Kelso Abbey. 
Before driving on to Edinburgh we did a walk along the coast from the fishing village of St Abbs.
August 4-5 we stay in a cool small hotel in Edinburgh and tour the castle, Royal Mile, Carlton Hill, and the HMS Britannia.View from our hotel room:
Walking around town:
The castle:
August 6-8 we take the overnight ferry (very NICE!) from Aberdeen to Lerwick, Shetland Island and spend 3 incredible days walking and touring around these rough, remote, and beautiful islands.
In Aberdeen a statue of William Wallace and a beautiful lamp post:
The Aberdeen skyline as we depart for the Shetlands:
Of course, a Shetland pony (baby) and first stop - Sumburgh at the southern end of Shetland to look for puffins. We saw some but not very close up. The nesting season has ended early this year and there aren't many left.
We make a trip to the northernmost inhabited island of Unst and do a walk of a nature reserve. Absolutely deserted, wild, and beautiful. A boardwalk (in the process of being replaced with Trex-like decking) to protect the bog leads us to the cliffs:
Here we get to see some puffins up close. They are very fun to watch. They have a distinctive flight with stubby wings for "flying" underwater and beautiful beaks. We kept missing them as they'd fly out from the burrows to fish and we couldn't tell where they returned in all the different headlands. Robin watched one take off and directed me towards the burrow while he stayed in place. I got about 20 yards from it before the puffin returned and I called Robin over. The bird left again and we ventured closer. A puffin returned and stood on the edge of the cliff looking at us with tiny sand eels in its beak. We wondered why it didn't return to its burrow. It took off again in a wide circle out over the water then flew back towards us. We watched in anticipation to see where it would land so we could get a close look. The puffin flew in fast and hot right into a burrow nearly under my foot! We had accidentally stood nearly on top of its burrow so in order to avoid the stupid tourists it had to dive bomb into its burrow rather than make a nice landing and walk in! Sorry Puffin!
A little taste of walking on the island of Unst:Robin checks out a turf field and we do our best to keep the Shetlands clean by "dunna chucking bruck":
After a "day off" and then a rainy and traffic-filled drive down the east side of Loch Ness we spend August 11-12 in Glasgow. We saw a piping competition and did a walking tour of the city. On the way we stopped at Culloden - the battlefield where the Scottish received the trouncing that would signal their final defeat at the hands of the English and the end of their independence. We didn't go into the museum but instead walked around the battlefield itself which included some markers with indicators of where the opposing forces established their lines and where clashes took place. Not many of the visitors actually walked the battlefield so it was quiet and a bit eerie.
Scenes in Glasgow:
To wrap up our trip we spent 2 nights with Dick and Lucy McTaggert whom we met prior to PBP 2007. They took us on a walking tour of Galashiels and then a nice walk around St Mary's Lake despite Dick's aversion to traveling on 2 feet rather than 2 wheels.
The three mega mileage amigos (Geoff, Mark, and Vinnie) were planning to baptize the new Three Rivers Cruise V2 route last Saturday. Earlier in the week looking at the weather forecast I thought Sunday looked better and managed to talk them all into switching the day. As the weekend drew near dire changes were shaping up on the weather front and I was facing the prospect of not only being scorned by my riding mates but also not being able to do any weather whining. Saturday turned out to be a pretty good day and the forecast early Sunday was still unfriendly. Okay, load all the rain gear and get ready to gut it out.
I was picturing a pretty wet and miserable day of about 11-12 hours. But no, Lucky Rando Girl emerges from the phone booth! Robin and I drove up to Arlington to find not only those amigos but a few others as well - Dan Jenson, Mike Richeson, Kole Kantner, and Ward Beebe had heeded the siren call. Notice all the male names there??? Like I said, Lucky Rando Girl! Another point of luck, they are all nice, intelligent, handsome, and look great in lycra!
A little bit of head wind and a very cold arrival in Darrington (which didn't prevent Kole from feasting on an ice cream sandwich - brrrrr) and I was still anticipating the rain at any moment. Lucky Rando Girl would not be so easily defeated - we changed direction here heading north and suddenly the wind was at our backs and seemed to stay there for the entire rest of the ride. Bits of blue sky appeared and we had fantastic views of snow capped Mt Baker while also sighting eagles along the Sauk River. Another change of direction (west now and still a tailwind) had us zipping along the Skagit River. Well, we were zipping once Robin got Mike and me in hand and pulled us up to the leaders...
We descended upon the Skagit Valley Co-op in Mt Vernon for a nice lunch break and then back out on the road, this time basically south but still with a tailwind - how is this happening??? At this point we had visions of getting back to Arlington before dark and the rest of the group would easily have done that but my legs were beginning to feel the efforts of the pace and they very kindly slacked off a bit for me. Now we had views of snow geese and Mt Pilchuck to delight the senses. Still, I was on the edge, just hanging on, and as we climbed a freeway overpass (it was a BIG one, I'm tellin' ya!) as we entered Stanwood I saw the group pull away. Well, it looked more like they were shooting out of a canon while I rolled backwards! After Stanwood I saw a tail light ahead and Mike had backed off to wait for me. Not much further along Robin was there and when we hit Silvana the rest of the crew was hanging out and harassing the locals. They could have been in Arlington already but they waited so we could all finish together - what a bunch of sweeties! I felt just a few raindrops as we neared Arlington and there was even a lingering bit of light in the sky as we pulled into the Haggen's parking lot.
What a Lucky Rando Girl.
I completed my slowest 200k ever today - bully for me. Included in today's route is a section of road with which I have a most curious relationship. I have ridden Issaquah-Fall City Road many many times and never well. My efforts on that climb from Fall City up and over the lump between it and Issaquah range from the low end of Embarrassingly Pathetic to a high end of Merely Pitiful. Those rare times in my cycling career during which I've gained some kind of climbing acumen (read about 2 days in total) have never coincided with riding this road. I always arrive at the bottom in a state of trepidation. I grovel and tuck my tail firmly between my legs never daring to raise my eyes. It regards me with true and undisguised disdain. As I move up the road quickly exhausting my supply of low gears I am forced to rise out of the saddle to maintain some sort of forward momentum. This effort it greeted by a derisive snort. I somehow claw my way forward while gravity gains strength with each pedal stroke. The bit of asphalt just passed over now attaches itself like velcro to my butt trying to pull me back. I begin to whimper and whine and degrade myself in every way possible in hopes of appeasing the road and somehow gain that little section that likes to pretend it is the top. I begin to rejoice in my success and am quickly slapped back down to my natural level. The road tilts up again. I begin to despair but salvation comes in the form of a caterpillar or a slug or, on very bad days, some road kill that calls out "on your left" as it slips effortlessly by me seeking higher ground. The road is momentarily distracted or perhaps has become so bored with me that I begin to make headway. Yes, the end is in sight. I have triumphed (?) once again! Take that you old so and so - until we meet again!
