'Twas a Dark and Stormy Night (and the suspicious Christian minister said "hit the road")

Day 11--Can we spell h-y-p-o-t-h-e-r-m-i-a?
Last post, I was avoiding grey skies and rain squalls in Bellville's public library. After a couple hours, I summoned the persistence to get going. Nothing looked good outside but finding out what the road would bring was at the heart of my venture and trumped the alternatives. Sometimes you just have to push off and go.

Six miles down the Mohican Valley trail to Butler, it started raining again and I ducked into the public park shelter to pull out rain gear and hope for another break in the weather. It was in the low 50's and riding in this rain wasn't like summertime 80's when you don't care if you're getting wet. I hung out almost an hour, visiting with a group of high school students also waiting for the rain to pass so they could shoot baskets. When the sun broke through the clouds, I wish them well and set off again. I didn't get a mile out of town before the skies opened up again, this time for keeps. At the side of the road, I quickly pulled on pants, boots, gloves and a rain poncho as a farmer rolled past on a huge tractor heading back to his barn. It was too wet for field work.

The road was hill climbs and rollers over the next seven miles--long, steep climbs up to ridge tops followed by scary, fast down hills in the wet conditions before another hard, cranking climb up to the next ridge--and the full rain gear just made me hot. I haven't got this figured out. Working hard leaves you wet from the rain or from the sweat building up inside your protective gear and modern, pricey GoreTex fabrics don't "breathe" anywhere enough to keep you comfortable. After an hour of this, I was thinking hard of an alternative, like getting out of the weather. Thankfully, about four miles later, the rain let up and I was able to start peeling off some layers. The best thing about riding in the rain is being outside as it stops, the rafts of clouds separate and sun begins to again bathe the earth. It is always beautiful.

As I approached Charles Mills Lake south of Mifflin, a large Corps of Engineers flood control resevoir with recreational facilities, I thought everything would resolve into a camp ground there. A nice looking, rustic but refined restaurant appeared around a bend and I pulled over to dry out, eat and avoid having to cook for the night. But the clearing skies were bringing cooler air and falling temperatures. When I left after dinner, not completely dried out, I felt very cold on the bike, even with tights, long-sleeved jersey, and jacket zipped up tight. This didn't go away.

At Mifflin, site of the campgrounds, I feared a wet night in low 40 degree temperatures might mean shivering most of the night with little real sleep and a ruined tomorrow. I pulled over for directions at a coffee shop which had just closed but still had one car parked outside. The proprietress was inside roasting a batch of coffee and she invited me, offered me a warm cup of coffee and in an hour and a half conversation we got acquainted, shared family pictures, a tour of the 19th century cabin she had renovated into this beautiful place and broached the suggestion I could just sleep on the floor in front of the fire place until she came back early next morning to serve a breakfast group coming in. She just needed to call her husband, a second-shift manager at GM who also pastored a church. Ah, the thought of Christian charity soothed my weary bones.

It took nearly an hour to reach his cell phone and she retreated into the back kitchen when speaking with him. My chance of solace ended when she came back out, handed me the phone and said, "you speak to him".
"I'm sorry, but with the world the way it is, I want you out of there right now," the voice of the Rev. GM-Manager said at the other end of the line.
It was 8:45 p.m., getting dark, and as much as I wondered which part of the equation he placed himself and me on "the world the way it is" scale, I knew his wife's opinion and personal assessment of me didn't matter.
"Hey, it's your place, O.K., I can be out of here within 10 minutes but can you tell me where is the nearest motel?"
And in a vibe so typical of the day's weather, he tells me of a place 1.5 miles away where U.S. 30 and I-71 intersect and the caring wife opens the yellow pages and circles what she thought was the recommendation. I call ahead to confirm I'm coming and ask the East Indiana woman at the other end, "You're east of I-71, right?" In a heavy accent, she says "Yes, est", which I took to confirm they were close.

Dusk was ending as I turned left onto U.S. 30 westbound looking for signs of a motel before the interchange a mile away. No such luck. I get to the Interstate and call the motel again. "Yes, we are est of the Interstate," she tells me again. A partner gets on the line and clarifies they are two more exits West, another two miles. I rig a flashing red rear lamp and a headlight as darkness falls and start pedaling as best I can along a thankfully wide shoulder as car-carriers, flatbeds and tractor trailer rigs go booming past. The whole two miles is uphill. I expect the CB radios crackling with "We've got some idiot out here on a bike on the right shoulder, better cut him a wide berth," and am praying I don't get rolled over by a dozing driver. All I want is to get off this road, get off this road, get off this road and my heavy breathing stifles uncharitable thoughts of the Reverend's demeanor with his church and lines I could add to his sermons.

When I finally make the exit ramp, the view is of an indigo Western sky with a clear, delicately etched, new crescent moon just getting ready to set. A new phase of the journey has begun. And, after about 20 minutes of soaking in a bathtub full of hot water, the tingling sensations in my cold feet go away.

Tanglewood Picture

35 expert main event Tanglewood 2007 Day 1

Board, JT, LC, Meaker...

Tanglewood North Carolina National

Put another weekend in the books for the National Bicycle League's National BMX racing season. With gas prices killing everyone's wallet, it was the smallest national I have been to. 106 motos on day one and 90 something on day two. Usually, this is a 175-200 moto national.

Day 1 got off to a rough start. Pulled 2nds in class all day until the main and had to settle for a third. In cruiser action, started off the first round with a 3rd, but 2nd and 3rd rounds I came back to pull first and eventually winning the main.

Day 2 was a little different in class. 3rds all 3 rounds of motos and then put together a great lap for a 2nd behind my team mate. Cruiser was all first.

The team didn't gain any ground on the team leaders, however, we did win both days of team comp.

The Tanglewood facility was awesome with a lot of shade, stuff for the kiddos to do and great volunteers!

Next stop is the USAC U.S. Championships in Waterford, MI. Should be a who's who for this race and the winner gets their own U.S. Champion jersey!

15.2 miles

32.4 miles

15 miles

Mr. G update.

An update on Greg's progress along the Underground Railroad route, courtesy of his wife Kathy:

New York state ... already through PA and into NY ... Greg's less than 40 miles to Buffalo and to Niagara Falls. He's getting great views of Lake Erie, and planning on spending several days at the American and Canadian sides of the falls. He's decided that the journey will be ending here, rather than pushing further into Canada, and is looking into renting a car after the holiday weekend to get home. He's on top of the world.

Thanks!!!

I just wanted to thank Mayor Garner for taking time out and meeting with me today about bringing BMX back to New Albany. It's not a done deal and it's far from even being put into motion, however, it was just a cool thing for a busy man to take time out to meet with me and show interest!

I feel that a BMX track in New Albany would be a very good thing and we all would benefit from such a facility. Shoot...maybe somebody will revive New Albany Schwinn?!?!?

tommy

34.2 miles

Update: Mr. G crossing into Pennsylvania today.

Here's another update on Mr. G's progress along the Underground Railroad Bicycle Route, courtesy of wife Kathy. It was received this morning.

Greg continues to make good progress and is in good shape. He has worked his way northeast through Ohio, and is currently just south of Lake Erie, near Ashtabula OH. The attached photo is in Oberlin OH with newly-made friends, met at a restaurant. He's making occasional use of his foul weather gear, and has encountered some cold and windy conditions. Luckily, he's had a few home stays, and checked into a few motels when it was just too darned miserable to camp out. He plans to cross into PA today and spend the night in Erie PA, anticipating a more level ride as he parallels the lake coastline. So, all is well, but I'll continue to hold my breath a bit as I think of those 18-wheelers blowing past him ...

17.4 miles

39.4 miles on my new wheels

20.4 miles

Central Ohio--Frosty Night Coming Up

Believe me, it's not about the miles. There is so much else that is the reward of a trek, not just keeping your head down sweating out a long conversation between your heart and some target zone. Yes, you have to cover ground and today, ten days out, I am 476 miles along the way. If we don't count the rest day in Maysville, I've averaged about 53 miles a day. I'm pleasantly surprised, but face it, whether on a trek or at home, days vary.
After leaving Maysville, a short visit to famous minister and Underground Railroad activist John Rankin's home, up a half-mile hill above Ripley, OH, turned into a two-hour stay chatting with Prof. Todd, a Phd. candidate at University of Kentucky, who works summers with the Ohio State Historical Society. Overlooking the broad sweep of the Ohio, he fed me with stories of the area, Rankin's operations and those of free blacks like John Parker (whose Phoenix Foundry was the largest ironworks between Pittsburgh and Cincinnati) and in which creek draws on the Kentucky side fugitive slaves would approach the river.
You have to take time when such opportunities arise and, Prof. Todd traded my attentiveness with "better route" up river and up the valley hills to East Fork State Park, my destination for the day. The route's advantage was requiring the equivalent of only one climb up Paoli Pike instead of two, but it was still about 7 p.m. when I arrived at the State Park, and at the southern end instead of 10 miles further where the formal campgrounds were. Fifty-five miles, a significant climb, stick a fork into me, I was done.
While calculating off of which trail or service road I was going to "stealth camp" for the night, a strapping, white-haired 65-year old gentleman out on his Specialized triathalon bike pulled along side. He was sweating bullets and said he was working out "to open up his arteries" in preparation for a 150-mile ride the next day. He assured me the area really was unpopulated and confimed my plan. I told him about my Hennessy Hammock, plans to make couscous with olive oil, chicken and pine nuts and then climb into my sleeping bag and go to bed. He smiled and said, "Simple. And life is good." We parted after sharing an experience of what I call "the brotherhood of the wheel": like-minded people viewing the world from the wonderfully crazy contraption called a bicycle.
I won't belabor how one stays civilized stealth camping without showers doing 50-plus miles a day, but suffice it to say it involves wet wipes, as many as it takes to wipe yourself down from head to toe. You remain better company with yourself and don't frighten people when you stop to chat with them.
The couscous was great and more than I could finish. The next morning I'm sitting on one bucket pannier heating water with my mountain stove on the other while I made coffee and reheated leftovers for breakfast. More olive oil, pine nuts and a few shakes of hot sauce made a lively and nutritious breakfast to get me on my way.
Twenty-two miles got me to lunch at Milford, OH and the Little Miami Trail, a 70-mile rails-to-trail conversion Ohio seems to have done plenty with. I called home to wish happy Mother's Day to Kathy and the girls and then spent Sunday afternoon amid hundreds of people of all shapes, ages and skill levels out enjoying the newly mild weather. I made another 25 miles before tucking into a canoe livery/campground along the river. Being Sunday night, the campground was practically deserted. I washed, just snacked and got cozy for a night in the 40's while the sound of water riffles over a gravel bar lulled me to sleep.
For those of us used to roads in rural, urban and suburban areas, rails-to-trail conversions seem almost miraculous. The Little Miami Railroad was the first West of the Allegheny Mountains and, boy, did those surveyors do a good job through what in the early 1800's was forest primeval. Gentle grades carry you through miles and miles of riparian woodlands, skirt farms and glance through small towns that still survive despite their distance from the bustle and commerce of the Interstate Highway system. To those who risk roads on a regular basis, these trails are unusually calm, almost mesmerizing, even a touch monotonous. But they are good and right and necessary as alternatives to our car-addled culture and we should all start advocating and supporting their development where we live.
During the next two days I passed thousands of acres of black-soil farmland but never saw a roadside stand. If necessary, community gardens could easily spring up to feed local communities, much as the "truck farms" dotted towns where I grew up as a kid in northern Illinois. But what I saw this week was acre on acre of corn and soybeans planted to supply the industrial food systems on which we now rely. Feed stock, oil and fiber, vegetable proteins, perhaps even ethanol for our cars. It had been sunny and all these three-inch sprouts swirling in rows like Maori tatoos across the landscape looked a little dry, liked they needed a good soaking to really get on with summer's growth.
Rain was forecast for late Tuesday, vicious squalls in fact with 40-mile per hour winds and the possibility of hail. Luckily for me, strong southwesterly winds preceded the approaching front and urged me on my way.
One of my planned stops was Wilberforce, named after the Englishman who convinced the British Parliament to outlaw the slave trade 30 years before the United States did. (The recent movie "Amazing Grace" is about his efforts and it got excellent reviews.) This is also why fugitive slaves often had Canada, not yet a nation but British territory, as their ultimately safe destination. Today, Wilberforce is home to two colleges and the National Afro-America Museum and Cultural Center. When I stopped at "the depot" in Xenia, where three rails-to-trails converge (God, does Ohio have it right!) I phoned ahead only to discover the center was closed on Sundays and Mondays. It became an easy day as I just pedaled up to Yellow Springs, home of Antioch College, to my first home visit of the trip.
Since it's not about bikes or the UGRR, I'll go light on the details. But my friend who grew up in Shively and Pleasure Ridge Park, spent a lot of business time in the Bay Area during the '60's and '70's chose to settle in this progressive little community in 1981 and voices very few regrets about his choice. Conservancy green belts, great food, intellectual stimulation and no rush hour are all part of the charm of this village east of Dayton.
My weekend couscous had me missing a decent tomato, so I had phoned ahead to say I wanted to make bruschetta after I pedaled in. Richard, way beyond me in kitchen skills, knew where to shop for fresh mozarella, Italian parsley, and good wines and then blew me completely off by grilling duck breasts with a cherry pepper glaze, red and yellow sweet peppers and portobello mushrooms and a salad of baby greens (from his window boxes) with pistachio oil and an aged balsamic vinager nearly as thick as molasses. I pitched in a 2005 Covey Run Gewurtztraminer from Washington's Columbia Valley (we took the dog for a mile walk after this and the bruschetta before grilling) and a 2003 Piegaia Chianti Classico. My God, how simple. Life is good.
The next day, aided by the following wind, I made a record 79-mile run and tucked into a small camping cabin at Alum Creek State Park to ride out the storm. If it thundered or hailed, I never heard it, only the steady rain which started around midnight and lasted til about 9 a.m. In my minds ear, I could hear all those corn and soybean sprouts gurgling in delight.
During the day, I met a rider from Columbus who was "doing a 16-mile loop" and while we pumped together sharing tales he talked about going to Italy each year for biking vacations (Tuscany, this fall). I snacked at small town milk shake stands and little groceries, which road karma requires you to patronize as thanks for their existence and persistence on the landscape (no fast food joints yet). The epitome though was in Rathbone, a mere intersection south of Delaware where I needed to stop (after 67 miles) and figure out where I would shelter myself from the approaching storm. Scioto Valley Bait Shop, the sign said, but they had pation tables outside and signs announcing wood fired oven pizza! In one room was the bubbling minnow tank and next door these gods and goddesses of the road weary traveler, were making caesar and caprese salads from scratch (fresh mozarella and slice tomatoes on pesto foccacia all drizzled with olive oil) and fresh pizzas baked in a marvelous oven on a trailer out in the side parking lot.
I mean, what are the odds of that? I stayed and ate and laughed for an hour and a half before busting out the last dozen miles to the state park. Remember, (and Ed, we must talk about this when I get back) it is not about the miles.
Wednesday, approaching Amish country, I rode through beautiful, wet fields and small towns punctuated by oaks and cottonwoods. Over hill and dale, stopping for lunch at a small town's grocery, gas pump and cafe (all in one building plastered inside with posters of beer girls and NASCAR drivers) I made my way to Bellville for a home visit and potluck with nine new friends from the local Unitarian fellowship. The small, rugged stone church built in 1894 in this village of barely 2,000 souls suggested another example of something right about Ohio (though they assured me the politicians here are not part of that picture). My gracious hostess and the good company's discourse allowed me to digest the road already traveled and that yet to come.
Today started in the low 40's with showers passing through and a good wind kicking up from the north. That's why I'm here in the library on the computer, tipping my hat in your direction and telling a bit of this tale. I've got my tights and rain jacket on, neoprene gloves and over boots ready if I run into rain. I'll be camping tonight somewhere between Bellville and Oberlin. They forcast a frost tonight, so it'll be an experience. Fleecies, windbreaker, down bag, stocking hat. But, oh, that hot oatmeal and coffee will probably taste really good in the morning.

Remember, Friday, May 18 is national Bike to Work Day. I'll be pedaling into Oberlin. You all make a statement on the roads back home.

15.8 miles

Mr. G now well into Ohio.

Here's a new update from wife Kathy on Greg's trip.

Hi all, I've heard from Greg...he's tucked into a sleeping hut at Alum Creek State Park OH, in anticipation of predicted storms moving thru tonight. The state park is NW of Columbus OH. He had a great day today---79 miles of pretty countryside. Altogether we figure he's made about 425 miles so far, and holding out pretty well. He reports sunburn, but otherwise in good shape. Last night was his first night to sleep in a bed, and I hear it felt just great. He spent the night in the home of the son of a church friend of ours. All in all, he remains very pleased with progress...so the story continues to unfold.

Oh, the beautiful Ohio!

--Maysville, KY, four days out, about 206 miles underwheel. No problems but some formidable hills between Carrolton, KY and here. A few I shall never forget.

If I succumbed to all the worldly tempations to become a grouch (I yet resist), I would blame my situation on Roger for planting the alluring idea of bicycle touring about a year ago with his talk of Bavaria, the Czech Republic and large pints of delicious beer. I would blame Ed Parish for sharing that great 16-mile loop around New Albany, which I took many times last summer while my fair daughter was at swim team practice at Camille Wright pool. I would blame Debbie Harbeson for her delightful late summer post about weekend ride that included ing up Corydon Pike.

You, and others, urged me on with this and now I am out in the middle of it all, far away, on a bike?!!

Verging on old coot, (60 later this summer), the thought something grand, expansive, larger than I could see appealed to both the 12-year old inside and the now grey uncertain what more aging would bring.

Hell, why not go 1,000 miles on a bike, get sunburned, get rained on, camp out in woods and pastures, meet strangers and see immense skies full of stars at night? When the Adventure Bicycling Association (www.adv-cycling.org) came up with its only second historical-themed national trail, the Underground Railroad, it clicked. Ride north, follow the drinking gourd, follow Spring and extend the cool weather, it all made sense.

Between central Indiana and Eastern Ohio were 15 major crossings for blacks fleeing slavery to the Northern states and ultimate freedom in Canada. Over the past few years, I met and spoke with historians Pam Peters in Floyd County, Jeannie Burke in Clark County and Dr. J. Blaine Hudson at University of Louisville and started to learn about the history of the Underground Railroad, arguably the nation's largest civil disobediance movement that cut across lines of race, education, economic standing and social class.

So, with that as intellectual companion, along with the 12-year old's curiosity, I set off last Monday from the Carnegie Center (go see their exhibit, "Common people, Uncommon Courage", it is one of the best of its kind).

No, I did not become a hardbody fanatic like Ed before leaving. February was so damn cold, I could get off my Nordic Trac and onto a bike until March. But I ride and explore, mostly the western side of the county from Georgetown to Starlight and Greenville to N. Skyline Drive.
I did the loop down to New Albany and up Corydon Pike several times and friends Joe Ward and David Runge took me for a test ride, fully-loaded from Memphis up and out 160 over Pixley Knob on the way to Pekin and back before pronouncing me "ready to go".

I am still training into the trip. Fifty seven miles up to Clifty Falls day one was civilized and included a nice lunch at the Copper Kettle in Charlestown, but my butt was still sore when I got there.
Through Madison and over that skinny bridge into Milton, KY and then up 36 along the river to Carrolton was still a shakedown. No problems and the bowl of vegetable soup with corn bread and as much sweetened ice tea I could drink (they even filled my bottles before I left) at Welch's Restaurant for $3.85 holds the hallmark of hospitality and value. The two-mile climb ing up to Easterday was the trip's first serious altitude challenge but was soon followed by crossing I-71 and an exhilerating four-mile downhill spree down to Eagle Station.

I camped outside of Sparta that night, once cattle and tobacco country now tatooed by NASCAR images because of the new 1 1/2 mile track there. Trains rumbled by most of the night, their horns seldom woke me and morning brought a beautiful, mist-filled valley in which cows were still lowing their appreciation.

At breakfast at Marty Miler's "Quick Stop", where Mary McKenzie makes sandwiches so large they fall off the bread for $3, they warned me that what was behind me was no problem, "Now up to Folsom, that's a hill." Pedaling under sunny skies along Eagle Creek and the CSX grade made for a nice warm up, but that hill was "a real hill". It didn't take long, even down on my 26 inch grany gear, for my knees to ache and muscles to start shaking. Before losing balance and my whole rig a jumped off panting and sweating rivulets. Trudging up, pushing 28 pounds of bike with another 35 pounds of gear, trying not to get caught on the pedal or the panniers, I swear parts of that climb were near a 30 degree slope. I'm not sure how the formula works, but looking straight ahead, from eye level it wasn't but 90 feet before five feet in altitude was covered.

I later was able to ride up a similar climb out of Grassy Creek up to Hwy. 27 and into Falmouth, but going north from there to Kinkaid Lake S.P., there was another third mile of the steepest incline I had ever seen. Late in the day, pouring sweat, working to broach the crest, I was humbled. But 200 miles out, it seemed no shame to continue, even if I had to walk and push my dream over a few tough hills along the way.

Yesterday was like a five-hour workout at the gym, mostly pumping up rollers along ridge tops to Lenoxburg, Brooksville (fantastic sandwiches at Shari's Family Cafe, f/k/a (sic) Empirial Chile), Germantown and into Maysville. No problems, but I am taking a rest day to let my legs recover here where there is a library, bike shop and a few nice restaurants

Simple gratitude for: courteous drivers who slow down and pass safely and then wave or honk when they do; hot water showers at the end of the day, oh, Lord do they feel good; curious kids and kind people who merely say, "you're doing what?"; and how frequently the tale of your own adventure opens people up with smiles and advice and sharing all sorts of stories about their lives, their community and what's good about this all.

I'm going to check out the pub for lunch and see if they have a proper ale, porter or stout to quench my deepened thirst. Cheers.

Mr. G hits the trail, and we'll keep you posted on his progress.

The great adventure has started for Greg Gapsis, a.k.a. Mr. G, who departed Monday morning for his month-long bicycle expedition northwards from New Albany past Niagara Falls to the shores of Lake Huron in Ontario province.

Greg is following the newly minted Underground Railroad Bicycle Route. Interestingly, the first group of cyclists to travel the entire 2,100-mile route passed through New Albany last week and visited the permanent exhibition at the Carnegie Center.

New Albany Tribune: “Riding the Underground: Cyclists pass through Southern Indiana on 2,100 mile trek.”

Mr. G’s communications are likely to be sporadic, but he’s included me on the list of e-mail contacts, and if he’s unable to report himself, wife Kathy will be disseminating information so we can bike vicariously through him. Here’s the first:

Hi all, Kathy here to give a brief update on Greg's progress. He started out this morning (Monday, May 7) at 9:30 a.m. from the Carnegie Center in New Albany, under blue skies and crisp spring temps. Fifty-seven miles later, he is at a campground in Madison IN, has had a hot shower and a reconstituted freeze-dried supper, and is feeling tired but pleased with the day. No report of any major forgotten items at home! He is hoping to ride about 50 miles tomorrow to Sparta campgrounds in KY, and about 50 miles the next day to Concord - both in hilly land in Northern KY. I'll send periodic updates as things progress ... thanks to you all for rooting for him as much as I am! He appreciates your interest and support.

Here are some links about the Underground Railroad Bicycle Route:

NA Confidential: Bicycle path through New Albany: The Underground Railroad Bicycle Route.

Adventure Cycling Association
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette article
Other links at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

'bout time!

it's been a long time since i've been able to post on here. not that i had much time to post with school in full-swing. with a teeny-tiny break i just wanted to remind everyone that if you are bored with you current riding settings, i urge everyone to take a trip over to E.P. "Tom" Sawyer State Park. we(derby city bmx) are getting our season off to a remarkable start, with a lot of the "old school" riders coming back to the racing scene. however, you don't have to be a "racer" to enjoy our track. it's open 7 days a week, dawn til dusk. it's closed only when: there's a race, or the track is too wet.

i've been contacted by our local government and there seems to be a small interest in bringing BMX to New Albany. i'm putting together a presentation that hopefully will demonstrate the benefits of bringing this sport to our community. wish me luck!

with the interest of our local government in cycling, i started to think about how New Albany could possibly become a serious cycling community! i believe i've read it right here @ NABC about how we have a bridge in our city, where you could convert the former car lanes into bike lanes and allow people to commute to work more easily.

with gas prices as a staggering 3 bucks per gallon (yes, we have it ez, compared to our over seas counterparts) and no signs of coming down anytime soon, how difficult would it be to open this up for commuting? don't answer that just yet...lol...

think about it. becoming a cycling town and revitalizing downtown, New Albany could become the place were we live, eat and sleep, while having an easy commute to downtown louisville. what i mean by that, is our downtown becomes a home for residence, artist galleries, bike shops, pubs, amongst other entertainment venues. i could see cycling lanes everywhere, with bike lock-ups on every corner.

here's another point to ponder. it's been shown that people who participate in at least 20 minutes of cardiovascular exercise 3 x's a week improves health significantly! the benefits are HUGE! it's proven that it lowers high blood pressure, helps with weight management, improves mood!, raises HDL (good cholesterol) and lowers LDL (bad cholesterol), significant energy improvement, so instead of coming home and crashing on the couch, you have more energy to spend with your kids, or get yard work done. helps manages insulin level for people with diabetes, strengthens bones preventing arthritis.

your health is also improved, because cardiovascular exercise stimulates the immune system, warding off infections, so less time is spent using health care expenditures, time off from work and the crappy feeling of just being sick.

becoming healthier physical, mentally and socially allows us to reach self-actualization and we as a community we become more healthy. also, who actually likes driving in that mess of a morning rush hour? i'm not saying you have to commute by bike everyday either. yes, it rains, or you have things that require a car on certain days. there's been times, where i've dropped my children off at daycare, then i come home and ride my bike to U of L. BTW, it takes approx. 20 minutes to get from oak street to the u of l campus by bike. that's generally what it takes by car, if not more.

well..i've babbled enough this morning....

have a great week!!!

More on the Underground Railroad Bicycle Route.

In today's Tribune:

Riding the Underground: Cyclists pass through Southern Indiana on 2,100 mile trek.

I referenced this at here and at NAC a while back: Bicycle path through New Albany: The Underground Railroad Bicycle Route.

Here's an excerpt from the most recent newspaper article. It's Mr. G, who registered here a week or so ago. If there's time, he might report in during the journey.

Local man ready to roll

Anticipating his 60th birthday this summer, Greg Gapsis plans to finish a long bike ride while he’s still in his 50s.

A history buff, the IU Southeast instructor and former reporter for The Evening News and The Tribune decided he would take the Underground Railroad route from New Albany to Canada.

“For me it’s a combination of historical curiosity, taking up cycling as a personal health matter and doing something challenging with a broad concept to celebrate my birthday,” Gapsis said.

We Ride Again!

For those of you who had such a good time commenting about my "Barco Lounger" bike saddle, I get the last laugh.

Following my recent surgery I had my doubts about ever being able to straddle a bicycle again. Yesterday due largely to the boredom of cabin fever, I took the orange beast off it's hook, aired up the tires, rolled the dice, and headed downtown.

I made from my home on Spring Street to Pearl and back without incident. This is one of many hurdles I've cleared in the last three months and second only to coming out of the drug induced fog that I came home from the hospital with. This is FREEDOM to move about!

I'm a bit sore this morning due to using muscles that have been dormant for almost 90 days, but nothing like I had expected.

I'm far from being able to do double digit mileage, but at least I think I'll be able to get to the pub in the near future.

Happy Riding All!!

15.3 miles