Tag Archives: Cycling

The Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride (PAX)

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Rediscovering the enjoyable experience I know as Pax – a ride for the soul!

Myself, Eric, Carol and John at the Magruder’s Landing rest stop at Pax.

This year the Patuxent Rural Legacy ride was scheduled for the second weekend in June, so it didn’t conflict with the Tour De Talbot, which was held a week earlier. This meant I could ride both. I have ridden the Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride (Which I refer to as Pax) many times. It’s very popular among my friends. After the Covid cancellations in 2020, it wasn’t held again immediately, and I started riding the Tour De Talbot instead. When it started again, I was riding TDT and I didn’t come back to it until this year. I forgot what I was missing!

Where TDT is a flat ride, Pax has climbs. It challenges you. The rest stops are by the Patuxent river. You go downhill to get to them, then climb back out. Those aren’t the only climbs – there are several climbs that challenge you on all the courses. It’s a very rolling ride.

Pax is run by the Oxon Hill Bicycle Club, which does a wonderful job of organizing this event. I arrived early and bumped into some friends who were volunteering at check in. I also ran into some gentlemen who were impressed with my steel bike. It gets a lot of attention. People who ride vintage steel bikes are very proud of them, and the conversations are always lively. I’m interested in classic steel bikes, and talking about them with like minded individuals is a treat.

I rode with old friends Eric, John and Carol. We were just in it for a good day, and Carol was recovering from a surgical procedure last winter with this event being one of her early rides. We settled on a 35 mile ride, taking it easy and staying together. This was to be a ride for the soul. The day was warm but not oppressive. We started out about 8:30 in the morning – quite late by our standards. The ride starts with a climb – a couple of miles of easy uphill that everyone is happy to re-visit as they glide downhill to the finish at Jug Bay. By the top of the hill at Croom Road we were warmed up. Pax is a scenic ride with old wooden barns, fields and river views at the rest stops. I recognized lots of landmarks as we cruised along. I love that feeling of being among friends in familiar places. I know that in years past my friends and I would ride the longest distance (a metric century, 62 miles) as a matter of course. I didn’t think about lesser distances. Now it’s a matter of what I feel like riding – I ride for fitness these days. It’s strange to think that I get what I need with a hilly 35 mile ride. I have to admit that it took a long time to transition from an identity as a century riding enthusiast to a more relaxed rider. I can only say that as I age it’s been a good transition.

We pulled into Magruder’s Landing feeling good. The routine at rest stops never changes, no matter how far or how fast you ride. We were having a good time and enjoyed talking to other riders as we got our snacks (strawberries!) and filled out water bottles. Of course, roads that descend must climb back up, and we climbed out of Magruder’s landing and headed away from the river, taking the tough climb on Baden Naylor Road and heading for the Merkle Wildlife Center and the second rest stop.

Myself, Polly and Eric at the Merkle Wildlife Center rest stop.
Eric, Myself and Carol playing to the camera at Merkle!
Two excellent Wilier bicycles – a modern model on the left and my steel Superleggera on the right.

We had another good stop at Merkle, meeting up with old friend Polly Choate who was volunteering at the rest stop. I parked my classic Wilier bicycle next to a modern Wilier. It was an interesting contrast. After Merkle we had another hard climb at St. Thomas Church Road, and we took a break for water at the top. When we got back to the final descent, Eric took over for a quick ride to the finish. I joined him. It was a quick finish to a great event.

Afterward we sat down with some beer and I brought another treat – a flask of 12 year old Caol Ila Scotch Whisky. Eric and I enjoyed them, and we had a social circle in the shade at lunch provided by OHBC. It was a ride to satisfy my soul and company to make it special. It may be worth choosing Pax over TDT if there is a conflict next year!

Libations for post-ride, beer in the cooler and good scotch whisky in the flask.

The Tour de Talbot 2026

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Another perfect day for a ride. I was hoping for a fun event, and this one did not disappoint.

On the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry during the Tour de Talbot. It was an ideal day, and I rode well.

I’ve been riding the Tour de Talbot for the last few years. I’ve come to enjoy it. It’s a flat ride with a ferry trip across the Tred Avon river in the middle. You can choose 30, 40 or 62 miles – I chose the 40. I could ride a full metric century, but I have to admit that my training hasn’t been good for long distances of late, and I see this tour as a more relaxed affair. Usually.

I have a friend from Virginia named Stephanie who is a natural born social director. She has been riding the TDT for as long as I have, with a big group that she has introduced me to. I ride with them, or at least we all start out that way. Big groups have a way of expanding, and you never know who you’ll run into at such an event. Some of the group follows me on Strava, and though Steph wasn’t there because she’s training for the Reston Triathlon, the group was looking for me.

Last year a fellow named Warren rode with us. He had a heavy bike and he didn’t ride with us the whole way. This year he found me. He had done a LOT of training and had a new Trek Domane to ride. I agreed to ride with him. He had become a road monster. He put it down to the new bike – but that wasn’t the case. It was the rider, not the bike. We were going the same distance, so we rode together. We rode a remarkably consistent pace, starting with the metric riders from the bigger group. They were going at a good clip in a line, and that pace suited us for the first 12 or 13 miles until the routes split. We rode together at a strong pace for the rest of the TDT.

Warren and I on the ferry. We rode together for the entire TDT.

At the first stop an old friend named Dave Robare found me. We hadn’t talked in years. The cycling community is a small group. After a brief stop, Warren and I headed for the ferry feeling good and riding strong. The wild card was wind, or what my good friend Ron calls “the eastern shore mountains”. It was supposed to build as the day progressed. On the way to Oxford and the ferry, the wind was in our faces. Still we found ourselves holding an 18-20 mph speed and passing quite a few riders. There was a rest stop in Oxford at the ferry landing, and after a brief wait we were on the ferry. The final miles were fun. Warren decided to pull past a group of riders and I picked up the pace to join him. Later I decided to drop an annoying wheel sucker, and he pulled in with me. We worked well together at speed. There are times when riding hard can be great fun. We returned to the start after a strong ride. Beer and food awaited us. It’s hard not to look forward to next year’s TDT when you have a good time like this!

A post-ride brew to celebrate another enjoyable TDT.

Planning Cycling Events in 2026

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After a year of adjustment in 2025, I’m finding a new frame of mind for cycling in 2026.

After a 2025 with few events and no motivation, I’m getting back to events in 2026.
This photo was taken during a rest stop at the Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride 7 years ago.

2025 was a transition. I ended 2024 with a century, but 2025 included no such ride. I was surprised to find that I hadn’t missed them. I rode shorter rides, I rode alone, and my yearly distance dropped off. I still love to ride, but those rides last year were different. 2025 was a mental and physical adjustment. How will I approach 2026?

Winter has always been tough on me, and after a hard, cold and snowy winter, the onset of spring 2026 has been welcome. One thing a new year brings is event registration emails for local clubs and events. I’m on the email lists of all of my local clubs and a few outside of my home area, so registration emails arrive before the weather warms and Daylight Savings Time makes evening rides safe and comfortable. This year, planning is fun again. It isn’t about riding because my friends are going, or because I ride these every year, but just to ease up and enjoy the ride.

I’m going to ride events, but somewhat lesser distances. 40-60 miles at most. Part of that is a concession to age, part is that I have fewer companions to go with, and part is just understanding that I want to keep riding and moving to stay fit. Speed? I’m not worried about that yet. I have no idea what I’ll be capable of. I have nobody to compete with anyway. The point is to recharge my riding, and I’m looking at events as a way to keep riding and stay motivated.

I started with the Tour De Talbot (TDT). A ride in early June that I’ve been riding for a few years now. I’m going again in 2026. It is a typical eastern shore of Maryland ride – flat, perhaps windy, but enjoyable, and this one has a ferry ride in the middle of it. That kind of experience is so enjoyable for me that it’s easy to look forward to.

On the Ferry during the Tour de Talbot a few years back.

This year TDT doesn’t conflict with the Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride, which I’ve enjoyed in the past. Pax runs the weekend after the Tour De Talbot. I’m riding that again in 2026. I know it won’t be the ride I remember, because I’m not the rider I remember being, but an easy, comfortable spin through those familiar surroundings sounds wonderful. All of the stops are by the Patuxent River, and riders cruise down to them and then climb out again. Most riders just remember the climbs. I’ve gone there many times, and I can’t remember not having fun there. Oxon Hill bike club puts on a good event.

Last year I got a gravel bike for a change of pace, and I’ve loved riding it. This year I’m going to ride my first Gravel Event – the Scratch ‘N Denton Gravel Grinder in August, run by the Chesapeake Cycling Club. I’ve wanted to try new cycling adventures, and this is the definition of “new”. For decades I’ve been strictly a roadie, and getting off the road for a little while is something new for me. Since this event has such novelty for me, it is probably the one I’m looking forward to the most.

My gravel bike will be ready for action at the Scratch ‘n Denton Gravel Grinder in August!

There will be more to come. I may ride the Potomac Pedaler’s Lewes Delaware weekend. I’ve never done that one before, often because of event conflicts. I may go back to Portland Maine in early September for the Lighthouse Ride, but for now I’m entering spring with a mental tailwind – the kind that comes with renewed energy. I’m going to ride for the soul, and as I satisfy this urge to ride events again, I hope that they will keep me motivated. In 2025 I spent a lot of thought looking backward at what I did for the last 20 years, thinking of what has changed, and thinking of ways to define what a successful year of riding will look like. 2026 will be the start of that new definition of what riding will mean to me. Signing up for events is a good start, and I believe in starts!

In the Moment

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I had a day of fun, camaraderie, speed and scenery at the Tour De Talbot this year. This was my third TDT, and it’s an area that I like to visit, so I signed up early.

Before the start of the Tour De Talbot.

I had a strange approach to the Tour De Talbot this year. The weather was threatening and thunderstorms were in the forecast. I was tempted to simply cancel my hotel room and stay home. Though it didn’t look good, and even the organizers were making plans in the event of thunderstorms, I decided not to let the potential for rain stop me and I went to Easton on Friday afternoon resigned to accept what the weather would send my way. I got my packet and shirt, found a nice spot for sushi (Sakura on Rte 50 West in Easton), and went to bed with a “wait and see” attitude.

Normally at such times I’m excited. That implies a kind of tension, which feels normal to me. I had no such tension that day. The forecast I looked up on Saturday morning looked hopeful. No thunderstorms forecast until late afternoon. It looked like the Tour would happen, and we would stay dry. I went to the ride start at the Easton Fire Hall feeling relaxed. I had given myself plenty of time to prepare, and I got ready to ride slowly and carefully. My friend Stephanie had a group of riders that I was welcome to join, and I gladly accepted. We would all meet in front of the Easton Fire Hall at 7:30. It turned out to be a large and friendly group.

Standing at the back of a crowded group photo!

We started out at a conversational pace, around 15 mph, and it was nice to talk to new people. I spent a lot of time at or near the front of the pack, and I was enjoying myself as we rolled through town and then northeast into the open expanse of Talbot County beyond Route 50 that most travelers miss. I have a good memory for routes, and I was confident in the road markers. I didn’t need to look at my GPS, even though I had downloaded the route.

It was extremely humid and my glasses were fogged, so I took them off. Since it was overcast I didn’t need them, and I decided to clean them at the first rest stop and wear them afterward. I had planned on riding the 40 mile distance, and many of the riders in the group were riding the metric. I decided to stay with the group on the metric course for the first half of the ride, then finish on the 40 mile route after the ferry from Oxford to Bellevue. It added 5 miles or so to my total, but I had done the same last year and it felt fine to me.

Some of the roads on that part of the course had been recently chip sealed. That means they added tar and fine gravel to the surface of the road, which traffic compacts over time. For cyclists with road tires (like myself) this presents the dual danger of sliding on the gravel and getting flats from it. You have to be very careful on that surface. I wanted to be on my gravel bike with its wide tires on those roads – and true to the nature of such surfaces there were several riders who had flat tires in those sections. I was lucky and made it through intact. We were all happy to get back on smooth pavement again.

We approached Trappe, a town east of Easton at route 50, and despite some concern in the group about route markings, I knew the way. I took the lead and pulled the group toward the first rest stop. I had to pick up the pace to get our group through a green light as we crossed Route 50, but we managed, and I made the correct turn for the first rest stop, which I promptly rode past. Thankfully my friends didn’t, so I turned back when they called and got a rest, some snacks, and some Gatorade for my water bottles.

We were less than 15 miles from the Oxford-Bellevue ferry, where we get a rest no matter what we do, so some of the team decided to pick up the pace. Naturally I picked up speed with enthusiasm. We didn’t have much wind to contend with, and with a wide shoulder and light traffic on the way to Oxford the team really got moving. I’m sure I was grinning like a madman as we set a brisk pace that I felt I could manage, knowing that I would get a rest at the ferry. Oxford is a pretty little town. I’ve stayed there on a vacation mini-break, and I appreciate its charm. It looked like they had a sports car rally there as we came in, and I watched the cars go by with interest. We cruised to the ferry dock just as the ferry came in, so we went aboard without stopping for drinks or food.

Waiting to board the Oxford-Bellevue ferry. I didn’t have time to get food or drinks before boarding.
On the Ferry. Crossing the Tred Avon river is part of the joy of the TDT.

From the ferry to the decision point between the 40 and 62 mile routes we were still moving well, and I was enjoying the speed. I was riding strong in a line of riders, doing my share. Coming off the ferry I knew that I had less than 15 miles to go to get my 40 miles, but I was being encouraged to go for the full metric. I knew that my training to this point wasn’t that impressive, and I felt that it was likely that I would begin to suffer a little in the final miles if I went the full 62 mile distance, so I stayed on my course. It was a close run thing though. I wanted to keep riding. I was feeling good at the final decision point and more miles sounded inviting.

A well earned post ride beer. I didn’t know what to expect before I started, but it was a great finish!

Practicality having won out, I rode the last 3 miles on my own. I rode with joy and power, and got back feeling very satisfied with my experience. I had spent that entire ride living in the moment. No plans or expectations. I just took in the sights as I rode along and rode like a good team member when I was needed. Since I wasn’t sure if there would even be a ride for me that day because of the weather, it was a small joy just getting a ride in. I may not be riding as many events now as I once did, but I still enjoy them and this is one event that I’ll continue to ride in the future.

Addition by Subtraction

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The rest stop on my C&O canal towpath ride. The Cinelli Nemo is a great ride.

I have had quite a few bicycles over the years. As the Spring of 2025 came in, I saw that I simply had too many of them. I thought I could let go of 3 of them, and to help me do that, I decided to get ANOTHER bike. My current road bike, a Wilier Superleggera, is a custom build that I absolutely love, and I must keep it. Two older road bikes and a very old hybrid bike could go. I would get a gravel bike to replace them. That way I exchanged 3 bikes for 1, while reducing clutter and helping me let go of the old bikes at the same time. I wanted a change, and riding off road would be perfect. There are plenty of places nearby to ride on gravel, and that would motivate me.

Since I had a general idea of what I wanted, I spoke to my friend Travis at Just Riding Along Bicycles in Laytonsville MD. He had put together the specification for my Wilier road bike, and I’ve been very happy with that custom build. I’ve received a lot of compliments on it. I decided to ask for another custom build, rather than buying a gravel bike off the floor of a random shop with a parts specification determined by the company whose brand name is printed on the down tube.

I wanted a gravel bike with a steel frame and Shimano GRX gearing, which was designed for gravel riding. Travis put together a parts specification for me, and I trusted his experience. I asked him to be creative. I ended up with a bike that feels great and rides like a dream. It’s a Cinelli Nemo Tig steel frame, Shimano GRX gearing and pedals, Thomson Seat Post, Bars and Stem, and Rolf Prima Hyalite wheels, and Vittoria T-50 40mm gravel tires. For a steel off road bike, it’s quite lightweight, built with Columbus Spirit tubing, and I think it’s beautiful to look at too. Once the frame and parts were ordered, it was just a matter of time until they all came in and Travis could assemble the bike. When the time came, I felt like a child on Christmas morning.

After a full check-out, bike fitting and bedding in the brakes, I got together with friends the following day and rode 26 miles on the C&O Canal towpath. It was a lot of fun! I felt I’d made the right decision.

Every time I ride my Cinelli, the bike feels better. I’m still a road biker, but now I have the option to ride on dirt and gravel trails, and I am starting to feel comfortable riding on new surfaces, as long as they’re not too technical.

At the towpath with the Cinelli Nemo. It feels better every time I ride it.

My bikes are unique. They’re not mass produced corporate machines you can find in a catalog or the floor of your standard shop. For example, one TREK Checkpoint ALR 4 is just like any other, and they’re common. My bikes are not like anyone else’s. Both frames are made by Italian companies that aren’t common in the US, and they stand out in a crowd of generic bikes.

Now I’m looking at more off-road adventures. It’s exciting to go new places and ride new terrain.

Breaking Free of Winter

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March is here, the forecast is looking slightly warmer, and the time has come to get outdoors again.

Spring cycling time has arrived, and my road bike is ready to go!

For me, the worst time of year is the winter. There are good things about it, but the days are short and cold and to be honest, working out indoors just doesn’t appeal to me. That sweet weekend when Daylight Savings Time comes in really gets me started. Daylight Savings Time is finally here, and I’m getting excited about getting outdoors. My bike is back from the shop for its yearly service and it’s time to get out and ride. I’ve already had some rides on my backup bike. I have some new things to try as well. I have a new kite design to refine, I have some new fishing spots to try as the weather warms, and I have recently found a meetup group for steel bicycle enthusiasts. When I get the chance, I want to ride with them after my bike has been serviced. The combination of daylight and new ideas has me feeling excited about the spring. I have another new idea that I’m excited about – a different kind of cycling adventure for me. I will write about that in a few weeks, and by then I expect to have many more springtime miles under my wheels, and other ideas to end those wintertime blues!

Turning the Page

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On September 28th, 2024 I rode my 17th Seagull Century. Barring some special circumstance, it will be my last century ride.

Enjoying a well earned beer after the 2024 Seagull Century

I began riding centuries at the 2006 Seagull Century at Salisbury University in Salisbury Maryland. Every year until now I’ve felt excited about the next year’s event. After 2023, I wasn’t entirely sure of my willingness to ride another. In the spring I felt better about it, and I signed up. However, through spring and summer and into the fall I realized that I had lost my taste for century training. Almost all of the friends who once rode that ride regularly no longer go to the event. I had given up riding other century rides, but this one was special. It was my favorite. I started there, and it was a challenge. Then it became social, and eventually it became a kind of personal tradition. I’ve ridden it 17 times over 19 years, with one not held because of hurricane Joachim and another because of the Covid 19 pandemic. I haven’t missed one in all that time, but I know now that for me, the time has come to turn the page and walk away. I have nothing to prove any more, and I don’t train as I once did. I have other things that I want to focus on, and while I still love to ride, I don’t need to take on huge efforts like a century to stay fit. Much as I loved riding them, and as many good memories as they’ve given me, I have begun to see riding centuries as a step too far for my cycling enjoyment. I want to ride for the soul rather than train for events. I’ll ride events, but I don’t want to suffer for them. I’m scaling back the distances I ride when I ride events now.

I have started to see rides from 30-40 miles as good days out, and metric centuries (62 miles) are still fun without being too hard on the body. The difference between 62 and 100 miles often depends on training and nutrition, but for the average person 62 miles is near the limit of both stored energy and energy easily gotten through eating and taking in electrolytes. You will feel tired (depending on how well trained you are) and you probably will feel fine the next day. 100 miles is a different animal. You may be trained well enough to shrug off a 100 mile ride without caring too much. There was a time when this was a good description of my cycling fitness. For the most part, 100 miles will test your legs to their limit. You will need to eat and drink during the ride to avoid the dreaded “bonk” where you run out of muscle nutrients and are forced to stop. It’s a test. There have been 4 times in the past when I’ve ridden “back to back” centuries, that is 100 miles on a Saturday and another 100 the next day. That was many years ago, and every time I was testing extreme exhaustion, and it took about a week to recover. Recovery from a century will typically take a day or two for the average rider with decent training. Age is also a factor, and needless to say, as I’m in my 60s and I’ve lost my training mojo, centuries are getting much tougher.

I knew going in that this Seagull would be my last, and I decided that it would be a success as long as I finished, and it wasn’t my slowest Seagull. I stuck to my personal traditions, and set out to make it a memorable ride. My steel Wilier Superleggera was ready to go. It seemed the perfect ride for the event. On a flat course and a warm and pleasant day like that Saturday, my Wilier is smooth and comfortable, and it suited my mood perfectly.

Almost ready to set out on the 2024 Seagull Century.

Starting out I was surprised at how FEW people were in the parking lot, in front of the gym, and particularly near the starting banner after going through the tunnel under Rte 13. So much has changed since I started riding this event! in past years, it would be crowded in these places. I started out about 7:15 in the morning and warmed up quickly. I was trying to hold a steady pace, but not necessarily a fast one. The point wasn’t to go fast, but to ride steady and finish with a time and pace that was at least averaging 16 mph. That would satisfy me at this point. I wasn’t expecting much, because my training wasn’t as good as it could have been. I had a lot of rides, but not a lot of long training rides. Still, I felt good and once I got warmed up, I was enjoying myself. The first two rest stops found me holding on to a faster pace than I expected. I knew that I would pay for that later, but holding on to a speed that was good when I was better trained was a hopeful thing. I had one point where a kid was drafting me for a couple of miles, and I asked him to pull through. I could have used a pull. “I’m just following you” he said. “I know!” I replied. He disappeared, being unwilling to give me a rest. Thanks, kid. Some people really don’t understand cycling etiquette. If you’re unwilling to return the favor, or you don’t have an agreement to be there, please don’t draft people!

On Assateague Island, 69 miles in. Getting there is a big part of the Seagull Century.

I reached Assateague Island as I began to feel fatigue. Had I stopped there I would have felt fine the next day. I could have bailed out then. Many riders apparently do. There are SAG wagons available. I ignored that possibility. I was going to finish the entire ride even if I had to crawl across the finish. I had been enjoying the ride so far, but I knew that I would have to slow down in the last 37 miles. I expected those to be difficult miles. I took a good rest before I set out again. By the time I reached Berlin on the way back I had begun to cramp up a little. Nothing major, but it was a concern. When I reached the final rest stop at mile 88, I needed a break, and I took a long one.

At the final rest stop, 88 miles in. Fatigued and cramping a bit, but enjoying the ride.

I knew that I had another 18 miles to go. I knew that I was beginning to cramp, so I did my best to stretch out, hydrate and fuel up for the final leg of the ride. It’s funny how you can suffer a little and still find it all so enjoyable. It was a good day to ride, and I was doing something I had enjoyed for years. Discomfort didn’t matter. The beer garden at the finish was calling to me, and I was listening. I got back out on the road.

The final leg was accentuated by leg cramps. Nothing severe, nothing to stop for, but I did find myself standing on the pedals to stretch from time to time. Yes, I could have trained better, but I knew I would finish. I took in the sights and smiled as familiar landmarks rolled by. I entered Salisbury with nobody nearby. I picked up the pace near the end, just because it felt right. I rode through the tunnel with a smile. I got to the finish line and pulled over feeling like I had nothing more in me. 106 miles, at 16.5 mph. Not great, but good enough. I went back to the car, stowed the bike, put on sensible footwear, and went back for pie and ice cream in the beer garden. Then a beer to celebrate. It was a good ending. I headed back to the hotel hot tub. I needed it. After the Seagull in 2022, I knew I wanted to come back. After 2023, I wasn’t sure. This year I am certain that this was my last century. I started riding centuries with a Seagull, and I ended with one. It was a perfect day.

I’m turning the page on century rides, but not cycling. Just rides over a metric century in length. We all have to grow, change and evolve as we age. It would take something special to get me to ride another century. This just feels right. I had a good century ride to end on, and I look forward to new and different challenges.

More Lines…

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I have been drawing more lines in my life.

Meet the Pileated Woodpecker. This one brings a little color into my day from time to time.
I see him from my window as I work.

Mid-summer already! I need to spend more quality time with my keyboard. The spring was eventful, and my time hasn’t been wasted. Bird watching is a kind of default, as shown by the interesting bird pictured above. He likes the tree outside my window. I look for birds when I ride as well, and it’s amazing how many different birds I see from the bike, quite apart from the handsome woodpecker that visits me regularly.

I’ve been adding new lines to my life this spring. Fishing lines! I’ve also started to make headway in coping with changes to my activities. The last 19 years of bicycling have been glorious, but many of the people I once counted on to ride with have retired and moved on, and my training has been on my own. I don’t feel the drive to train. I ride for the enjoyment of moving through the landscape by bike, enjoying what I see and feel as I go. I think that’s a natural development. I still ride 3 to 5 times a week, but the mileage has decreased and as I write this, in the heat of the summer, it’s been harder to grind out the same number of miles I once did. 20 years of serious riding doesn’t just go away overnight, but the social aspect of those past cycling seasons has changed, and I’m changing with the circumstances.

Riding on the Oxford-Bellevue ferry across the Tred Avon river during the Tour de Talbot in June.

I look at it as an evolution. Last year I found myself talking to an old friend who gave me advice for my first century ride 18 years ago. She doesn’t ride those events any more, but she still rides. That feels like my direction. I could sing the blues about aging, but that would be giving up. I will never stop moving, stretching and following my interests. I will simply adapt as I go. I have centuries to ride this year, but next year I may not enter any long events. I like events, but shorter distances and slower paces sound good to me now. All that means is that my riding will enter a new phase. Events will take a more relaxed tone. I doubt anyone will criticize me for it! I’ve ridden events this spring and they feel great – like old times. When I’m back to the familiar, I find myself thinking of past years in autumn when the events were over for the year and I felt strong. I called those cool weeks “riding for the soul”, and I defined it by a lack of training pressure and the pure enjoyment of the autumn scenery around me. The pressure was off, the days were enjoyable, and my soul was nourished. I think in the end, when I don’t have training pressure, this is what I want cycling to become. I want that line in my life to have a more relaxed tension, take a different course, and present itself with a different style. I like the sound of that. Perhaps I’ve been changing for quite a while now, and my consciousness is finally catching up to my circumstances.

When I was a boy, fishing was a way to find some quiet and peace and solitude, and it gave me time to think and experiences to enjoy. Lately I’ve come back to it. I’ve had all the fishing skills I’ve needed since childhood, and I’m connecting to that childhood quiet time again. Even if I catch nothing, I still feel good about fishing. My freshwater ultralight and light weight fishing gear won’t net me anything big, but it makes even small fish fun to catch.

A healthy bass caught from Lake Elkhorn in Columbia, MD. He was gently released.

My favorite fishing lure is the simple inline spinner. You can catch anything on one. Including the fish pictured above. They’re good for panfish, bass and trout, and while I have no idea exactly what a spinner is meant to simulate, they can be amazingly effective.

An assortment of inline spinners. My favorite fishing lure!

Fishing clears the mind. It requires focus, and it’s a simple pleasure that I’m happy to indulge in from time to time.

To make a long story endless, I’ve been active, healthy and happy, and I’ve been making a few changes. I look forward to exploring new and interesting lines of thought and activity.

Rethinking a Personal Tradition

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I’m the kind of person who likes to take on challenges, and I’m also the kind of person who creates traditions. I value consistency, but not when it comes at the expense of novelty. Last month I rode my 16th Seagull Century. When I first rode it, the Seagull was a challenge. I wanted to finish a century. Then I wanted to improve, then it became social, then it was something I did every year that had become traditional. This all happened because I was enjoying it and it helped motivate me. Previous entries in this blog show how much I have enjoyed this event.

On the Salisbury University Campus on Friday the 13th with the Salisbury Seagull.

In the last couple of years, I have begun to get less from the Seagull than I once did. I found that most of the familiar faces that I used to see there were absent. I have been riding it alone in recent years, pushing myself as an individual challenge to complete a goal. It occurred to me earlier this year that I just wasn’t getting as much out of this event as I put in. I decided to ride this year’s event and get all I could from the experience. Then I would take the time to evaluate my goals, and decide whether to continue to ride it every year.

The Seagull Century Information Desk

The 2023 Seagull would be a serious challenge. The forecast called for rain. This isn’t unusual, I’ve been rained on during the Seagull a few times. The Friday before was a glorious day, and the following Sunday was also nice. It just happened that the weather had stubbornly chosen that particular day to water us. As a result, I thought that there were fewer riders this year. The difference was pretty obvious. On a sunny day, this would have been a kind of rolling cycling festival. This year it was a more focused affair, with only the most committed riders on the course. There were a lot of us, but the sheer volume of 5000 or more riders wasn’t in evidence. I don’t know how many were riding this year, but I think two to three thousand would be a good guess.

The vendors inside Maggs Gym.

I arrived Friday and went to campus to pick up a shirt, and of course I walked around the gym to see what was on offer. In all the years I’ve been riding the Seagull, I have never bought a Seagull jersey. This year’s was a good design, so I purchased one and picked it up at the gym. On Saturday morning I parked in the usual place, then I went to the “High Carb Breakfast” at the SU dining hall. It’s better than the typical Continental breakfast in most hotels. Afterward I prepared carefully and left for the tunnel and the ride start.

Ready to ride.

I let myself bask in nostalgia as I entered the tunnel, given my uncertain feeling about my future participation in this event, and as I approached the start banner it was dry and beautiful. Could such a nice start really end badly? I set myself a strong pace, understanding that I didn’t have time to waste if there was a chance that I could avoid the rain. I felt good and rode steadily. I remembered the years when I had last been on those same roads and seen those sights. It was fun. The first stop was brief. I had been drinking well and I’d emptied a bottle and a half. I refilled, ate a banana and snacks and headed out again as the light gray morning skies filled in and darkened.

The first rest stop. No rain yet!

My pace was steady, and others tried to pick up my wheel as I rode on – and at least one started breathing hard, then dropped off suddenly. The lesson – ride the pace you’ve trained at. This may be a flat ride, and drafting can save you energy, but you have to know yourself. This is a century ride, not a race. There is no prize to be had. I was having a good time. My second stop was a little longer, but I still felt good. I headed out for the next leg to Assateague feeling hopeful and dry. There were clearly fewer riders – fewer to pass and even fewer passing. I followed the road marks, but it wasn’t really difficult. I was having a good time. I arrived at Assateague (mile 68 this year) feeling confident. It was a gray day with the odd raindrop, but it hadn’t amounted to a drizzle for me, so I took my time and looked around. I headed back feeling strong.

The Verrazano Bridge to Assateague Island,
The beach entrance on Assateague Island.

My luck held out for another 7 miles, then at about 75 miles in the rain began. Not a light rain, but a steady soaking rain with no respite. I was heading west into it, and there was no choice but to endure it. I still looked at those familiar roads and smiled, but the Seagull Century is known for raining on riders every few years and this was expected. In fact, looking back on past years, I’m surprised at how often it’s been dry for me. The final stop was at mile 87, Adkins Mill Park. I found a dry place under the picnic shelter. I hadn’t been drinking much, so I ate, drank and refilled bottles. I felt so wet that I should have been approaching dry from the other end. The last leg would be the shortest. I set out to hold my pace and endure the rain. The other riders also seemed resigned to being wet and determined to finish. I thought it was interesting to see so many smiles among them. I was hanging on to that strong pace I started with. The cold and wet weather was working against me, but I was still going well. This would be the fastest Seagull I had ridden in years. Coming in to Salisbury I felt strangely lighthearted. I was alone when I went through the tunnel. The cheers were wonderful, if slightly less in volume than on dry years. In all, I rode 105.5 miles at an average of 17.6 mph. Not bad for a 62 year old man.

Coming out of the tunnel in the rain toward the finish.
Celebrating the completion of my 16th Seagull Century.

I was wet cold and exhausted when I got off the bike. Thankfully Dianne found me as I walked over to the beer garden and handed me a Pumpkin Spice Latte. It was wonderful. I might have been feeling the edge of hypothermia, and getting out of the rain and drinking that latte felt wonderful. I celebrated with a post ride beer, but I didn’t hang around long afterward because I was still very wet and very cold, and I needed to warm up. The hotel hot tub revived me. I had a nice dinner with Dianne and came home the next day feeling satisfied.

With the benefit of a few weeks to think it over, I may ride some different events next year. I don’t want to completely give up on Seagull at this time. I booked a hotel room when the date for 2024 was announced. I won’t hesitate to register if someone asks me to ride with them. If I’m still feeling ambivalent about it, I can cancel the hotel and move on without regret. I ride enough to be ready in case I change my mind. There have been times when I was excited to sign up and excited as the Seagull approached, but I think that as people whom I once shared that excitement with stopped riding it, I started to get less out of the ride. I’m keeping my options open, and I won’t make a decision until next summer. This is the first time since I started riding the Seagull Century that I haven’t been sure that I’ll be riding it again the next year. I’m going to feel fine no matter what I decide though.

A New Event!

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The Chesapeake Cycling Club’s C3 Tri-County Classic

Waiting for the Ferry in Oxford, Maryland during the Tri-County Classic.

I enjoy riding events. I’ve literally ridden hundreds of them, and they’re good for motivation, fitness, training and simple cycling enjoyment. This year I registered for a newly created event called the Tri-County Classic. 65 miles on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland, which included an area I didn’t know well, and even had some short climbs. The Eastern Shore isn’t known for climbing, and while you can find them on some rides in the area, it’s mostly a place known for flat rides and headwinds. Yes, headwinds. The dreaded weather condition that a good friend calls the “Eastern Shore Mountains”. Conditions on this ride turned out to be a challenge, even without high winds, but on the whole, it was a good experience.

The ride started in Easton, a town bisected by Route 50, the major artery from the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to the ocean beaches of Maryland and Delaware. As a result it’s a place that people will often drive past but not experience. The ride included a choice of two courses, a 30 mile course and a 65 mile course. The short course looped around the river inlets to Oxford, taking a Ferry across the Tred Avon river, and then heading back to the start. The long course headed west into more rolling country before coming back to Easton and joining the other course to the ferry, then back to the start. The ferry ride alone makes this a fairly unique event.

The weather was a concern. A storm was moving up the coast, and the concern was getting caught in it. The ride was sold out, but I believe that many riders stayed home for fear of the weather. My colleague Ron and I had no such problem. I’ve always said that I don’t mind riding in the rain, but I won’t START riding in the rain. It’s a fine distinction, but it works for me. Since the rain was going to hold off until late morning, I brought a change of clothing for after the ride and headed for Easton. We were on the road by 8:00.

I stuffed a rain jacket in my jersey pocket and we set out, leaving Easton and entering the countryside. The roads were good and the scenery was pleasant. The rest stops were good. We were still dry upon leaving the second rest stop, but on the road into Oxford, the rain began. After a quick stop to put the jacket on, and a stop at the Highland Creamery in Oxford for a little time out of the rain. The organizers provided a ticket for a free ice cream, so we took advantage. We went to the ferry, standing under a tree while we waited. The ferry ride was fun, and the remainder of the ride was wet, as expected. It was still a good course, and had the day been dry, I’m sure more riders would have come and enjoyed the experience. This was a well planned event. I’m glad I was there for the first edition of it, and I plan to ride it again next year.

We stayed briefly to check out the post ride atmosphere, but we wanted to get a meal, so we reluctantly left for home with a stop at a favorite seafood restaurant along the way. After you get home from a ride in the rain it’s important to clean the bike and wheels thoroughly and re-lubricate the chain before you ride again, but I’m good about bike maintenance and I thought it was worth doing in any case. I had a satisfying ride, and it turned out to be the longest ride I’ve done so far this year. There will be other, longer rides for me, but this was a good event to start the year.