Wait! I’m OK. I am OKAY. All is not lost.

After Friday’s distressing ride, Monday’s 35 went fairly well and last night I was on fire! Maybe it was just getting the sludge out after not riding for a while; the first rude awakening. I was rolling, feeling strong last night. As soon as I started out on my warm-up I felt different: better.
Good thing!

I climbed Spruce a gear or two bigger, had to wait for a lane closure on Wildcat going through Tilden Park. That pavement has needed serious improvement for some time now. I rocketed down Wildcat to Orinda passing a car and a couple cyclists, but don’t tell Dale. She’s a bit uncomfortable hearing about my fast descending. I hammered the grade from Orinda over toward Moraga and then rolled out the descent snacking a gel and a banana.

Entering Canyon, all was well as I caught my breath and prepared for the climb of the day up Pinehurst when I heard that familiar Phit, Phit, Phit, Phit of air no longer interested in the confines of my rear tire. Not the gun-shot like “report” of some punctures; a civilized deflating. With a nice bit of driveway off the road leading to Canyon School, I pulled off the road to change my tube. It was dusk by now and started to cool off a bit so I put on my wind vest and put my bandana on as a pirate scarf trying to keep what warmth I had. It was pleasant safely off the road next to the West, WEST fork of the Raritan River as I started work on my tire.



And then they arrived. Now, I cannot say anything about the Raritan where it flows through New Jersey, but in Canyon it’s got way too many mosquitoes. I heard them before I saw them; buzzing and chattering with glee:

“I told you if we set that thorn in the road just right that we’d eat like kings!”

There I stand, all sweaty with a flat tire.
Next thing, I was slapping my legs, face and arms, and dancing around as I work on my tire. Great.

Thankfully, the tube change went well and I was on my way again leaving a swarm of bloated, burping mosquitoes in my wake.

My riding continued well climbing Pinehurst. Previously, I was hurting quite a bit on the steep part. This day I was in the next bigger gear rather than my lowest and climbed strong, sitting down the entire way not having to stand to make it up.
Streaking down Tunnel Road I turned on my lights to show up in the graying foggy evening, quite happy and satisfied with the ride.

30 miles, 2,300 vertical feet of climbing, 2:10 averaging 13.5 mph.
Feeling much better now; not all is lost.