I was on the bike by 2:45 and riding under overcast, foreboding skies. I said a prayer to Thor, God of Thunder, and he answered with a misty drizzle. Screw it. I rode on.
I headed north and east out of Peninsula, riding four miles up SR 303 with the intention of working my way on roads I’d never ridden towards Hudson. We’d see from there. I crested the hill out of town and was prepared to continue east on 303, which did have an excellent riding shoulder, but cars moving past at 50mph plus, when I noticed a parking lot on my right with a sign that read ‘Summit County Metroparks bike and hike trail’. I turned and rode in to check it out.
From where I sat on my bike, under a kiosk with a map designating the ride/hike trails from the ‘you are here’ point on the map, I realized that there were many miles of trails in all directions. The question in my mind was whether they were blacktopped or not. I did not have tires on ‘Locke’ that would favor the hard crushed surface of the towpath and I was thinking these paths were of the same construction…at some point. From what I could see from that kiosk though, they were paved. I headed south to find out more.
I managed about five miles before the paved path dumped onto a road and apparently ended. I returned to the kiosk and with closer scrutiny, realized I should have continued a short distance on the road after which I would have picked up the bike trail again. Oh well…another day. I was soaked at that point – over an hour into my ride – and was thinking I might head home. Another look at the map on the kiosk bulletin board though, and I found myself heading north along another paved section of trail that was completely surrounded by woods and rock ledges that climbed to the east and fell into steep ravines to the west, towards the Cuyahoga River far below. Occasionally, I found myself riding over hard packed pieces of ice that had not yet melted and were the result of cross country skiers and hikers traversing these same trails and packing down the snow. I rode another twenty minutes before reaching a point on the trail that was too icy for riding and turned for home, cold and soaked to the bone.
When I hit SR303 on my return, it was raining hard, the temperature was down 10 degrees and the bike was hydroplaning on the wet roads. I was descending at 40 mph and thinking it wasn’t the best idea in the world, but I was a cowboy, after all. I arrived home after more than two hours of riding, cold but elated. It was my longest ride in a very long time and I felt good…and strong. I had overcome elements that should have kept me in a warm, snug house, which was essential to getting a real exercise mojo back in place. I spent ten minutes cleaning ‘Locke’, determined that it was not going to rust.
John stopped over for a spaghetti dinner and baseball movie. We watched ‘42’, the riveting story of what baseball great Jackie Robinson was forced to endure to exercise his rights as a free American citizen, which he’d fought in WWII to preserve (he was a Lieutenant, but was dishonorably discharged after the war when he refused to move to the back of an Army transport bus, as the unwritten code of the Army required of all blacks). It reminded me again of my decision about the naming of my own son after this American icon and hero and made me glad that I had. I told John of my riding exploits, encouraging him to buy a similar bike, and laid out a rough plan of my thinking for hiking the North Country Trail. “Only sixteen people have thru-hiked it to date. Maybe I’ll be seventeen?” I said.
Just keep thinking, Butch, that’s what you’re good at.
Bike duration: Two hours and 15 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 135 bpm.
Calories Burned: 1,700.
Bonus: 22,000 steps.
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