There was a certain crispness to the air as I mounted my bike that told me though it was reasonably warm at the moment, I would be cold before I finished. It was probably in the high forties and the sun was shining brightly as I rode out of Indian Springs onto Riverview Road. I was headed for the closed section of Everett Road and the most difficult climb I would be undertaking since riding in southern Ohio during TourOhio. I reached the bottom of Everett and said a prayer to the cycling gods that I would be able to climb the 2-mile ascent without having to stop. I can think of only two times in my life that I was forced from my bike on a hill, one being while suffering from heat stroke during TourOhio and I did not want this to be the third. I had been feeling quite strong on previous rides and had confidence because I knew I had the gearing to ride the hill – conditioning was all that was missing.
I began the climb slowly, looking closely at road conditions that might cause my tires trouble. As I climbed through this silent, heavily wooded section of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, I experienced that sense of calm and freedom that often accompanies time on a bike for me. It has always been there and is maybe the reason I so enjoy riding. Even as a child, I remember the feeling of escape and freedom it delivered. Then, it made me feel like an adult. Once out of sight of my house, no one knew what I was doing or could supervise me. Adventure, mischief, freedom awaited. And it still feels that way. No one along to tell me where to turn or jobs that I have to do. I just ride and make all the decisions. My brain is free, as well. And I think about many things, especially when climbing, to take my mind off the pain I feel in my thighs with each revolution of the pedals.
I looked up the road to see two people with dogs descending toward me. As I reached and passed them, the woman turned to me and with arms outstretched as though to offer praise said, “I’m sooo impressed! This is a tough one.”
I thanked her and continued to spin. I was halfway, but still in the saddle. I was on the smaller crank, but still had several gears to spare and meant to keep it that way, challenging my thighs to handle a harder pushing required. I rose from the saddle for a minute to change the emphasis on my legs and continued to climb. There were orange construction barrels on the side of the road where erosion was occurring and I eyed them thinking ‘one more barrel behind me’ with each one I passed.
I returned to the saddle as I approached the top. I knew I’d make it and I knew I still had plenty in the tank for a long ride. I passed the ‘road closed’ barrier thinking ‘it ain’t closed to me’ and pedaled on.
I stayed on Everett as it took me west towards Hinckley. It had a very small shoulder and numerous pot holes. Traffic was coming by at the posted speed of 50mph plus a few and the road rolled in such a way that visibility was poor. I continued for several miles before turning and concluding it was not a good cycling road.
My return trip put me on Brecksville Road, which offers a fantastically wide shoulder and smooth riding. As much as I want to find those wonderful country roads I had to ride when living in Highland Heights, I was starting to feel like that magic was gone and this was my new reality. It wasn’t a bad one as I felt entirely safe with several feet between me and the cars.
My hands were freezing as I descended back into the valley. I had to hurry to beat Heidi to the house. She was coming for Amish casserole and Strickland’s ice cream and some father/daughter time. I reached home having pushed hard up every hill, and there were several challenging ones, feeling strong and tired. I’m amazed at how quickly I seem to return to a semblance of cycling shape and was looking forward to the next day when sunshine and fifties are in the forecast. If it happens, it will be the first time in forever that I've managed consecutive riding days.
Bike duration: Two hours.
Training Heart Rate: 135 bpm.
Calories Burned: 1,500.
Bonus: 22,000 steps.
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