Ironton Rail Trail

Since April finally gave way to May, life in the Lehigh Valley has literally bloomed. The rain has subsided, the sun has come out, the sky has brightened, greens have deepened, and life begins to take on that easy summery feeling. I sleep with my blinds open so I can wake up in a circle of sunlight, from the first dawning around 5 to the full streaming at 7. I love the early light, the freshness of the world waking up and starting over once more. It’s the kind of day that makes me ache for my farm in Massachusetts, where I don’t need a task to take me outdoors; I can just go. Living in an apartment is vastly different: sitting on my balcony is not the same as sitting on a porch swing, a book in one hand and a dog at my feet. I never have the urge to go for a lazy stroll in Bethlehem; I have no dogs to walk around the block. Enjoying the outdoors in a small city seems odd to me, and out of place, as though I should have a purpose for everything I do, or a goal. I’ve become accustomed to having a balcony where I read until the street lights come on and the chilly evening air finally encourages me back inside. But going out and about simply to get outside is not something I’ve been able to replicate in a small urban area.

…Until I got the bike. Now, outdoor excursions, while never lasting long enough, don’t seem to need a point. I can just get on the bike and go. I can wander slowly down paved paths or fly over loose stones while practicing my pedaling. I can appreciate farms while traffic bumps up my adrenaline; or enjoy the forest all on my own. I feel safer on a bike, and I am content with my excursions because I’ve managed to be productive while having fun outside.

Today’s ride made me exquisitely happy. I wanted to try somewhere new, having done the D & L Canal Trail North three times now, and not quite wanting to drive down to the Delaware Canal. I did some research last night, and am grateful to www.Traillink.com for creating an outstanding catalog of trails for all adventurers, from horseback riding to cycling to hiking. I found, to my amusement, that I was seeking longer trails now, instead of when I first started and wanted a quick jaunt. I decided on the Ironton Rail Trail and found it well-reviewed by everyone who’d tried it. The general complaint was that it was too easy, but I generally take anything “flat and easy” and make myself cycle faster. It may not be the same as hill intervals, but I’m still getting out, improving my technique and raising my comfort level.

So off I went this morning after checking my tires and making several outfits changes because I couldn’t decide if it was cool or not outside. Something about 60 degrees and breezy in May seems cooler than it did in April. It only took me twenty or so minutes to get to the trailhead, although there were times I was certain I’d gone too far or the wrong way. I took 22W to the 15^th St Exit, and then stayed right on Mauch Chunk until I found Quarry Street, admittedly by passing it and having to turn around. Quarry St is quiet and pretty, and the trailhead starts at a generous and well-marked parking lot. I did my usual unloading of the bike, organizing my necessary items into a small pocket, grabbing a trail map to read as I stretched; and then jumped out of my skin when I heard a gun shots. I was just shy of ducking behind my truck for cover when I noticed on the map that the parking lot abuts a gun club. Immensely relieved, I headed off down the trail, although I did delay for a few minutes to allow another cyclist go first, mainly because I didn’t want to listen to her singing. I was impressed with her calf muscles, but had a chuckle at her bright orange Crocs.

The entire trail looks like a “P” on its side, or a huge balloon with a tiny string attached. I parked deliberately at the end of a 3-mile spur which then connects into a 6-mile loop. It is the best maintained and marked trail I’ve taken yet; and probably for these reasons, the most populated. I passed (slightly smug) many cyclists, joggers, and walkers, always being sure to called out “On your left/right!” as I went. I was flummoxed by the number of walkers and cyclists who refused to move until the last second when I was coming towards them: there was a particular trio of power-walking women who took up probably seven feet of the ten-foot-wide trail, and refused to move over at all. Finally, as I skidded to slow down in front of them, one shifted slightly. I promised next time to not slow down, but to play chicken with such rude path patrons until they realize that, at 17mph, I’m a considerable threat to their pleasant Sunday exercise.

But I digress. The spur of the trail is mostly packed dirt with a section of loose rocks; it is impeccably maintained. There are crosswalks with stop signs for those of us on the trail, and markers about every half mile. Most of the streets you have to cross are relatively quiet, but the stopping and starting was a new twist for me, and by the end of the expedition, I had to remind myself to downshift when I stopped if I wanted to cross with any modicum of speed. Once I arrived on the loop, the path was paved and, although more crowded, absolutely lovely. Taking this trail was essentially celebrating the arrival of spring. Everything was green. I cycled past homeowners mowing lawns and tending gardens; old men and young boys fishing in a creek; bright yellow tulips waving me forward. I actually found myself glancing skyward numerous times and smiling because the sky was perfectly blue, completely cloudless, and radiating energy and new beginnings. It was a truly beautiful day to be out cycling.

The history nerd in me geeked out as I passed an abandoned train car and ruins of buildings once associated with the railroad. I had to actually stop at the Saylor Park Cement Industry Museum and read the heritage society’s signs and memorial plaques. I’d be hard pressed to find something more appealing than a bike ride on a gorgeous day along a historic trail that teaches me something.

When I found myself back at the beginning of the loop, I took a few minutes to stretch, drink, and contemplate my next move. Thanks to boxing and lifting weights Friday, I was a bit sore and felt the fatigue in my quads. The rest of me, however, was still raring to go and the voice inside my head chirped, “Either you stay outside in the sun; or end up inside your apartment. Again.” I turned my bike around and did the loop in reverse. There were definitely moments when I had to slow down, but there were also bursts of energy that had me cranking along at 20mph. I tried to keep myself at 15mph or higher, and was generally successful. It wasn’t until I got back to the truck and read the park rules that I found I was supposed to respect the 12mph limit. There were no signs along the trail, however, and I would have been struggling to stay that slow. I was polite and didn’t impede anyone else’s morning, so I stand by my speed.

Upon returning to my truck, I realized that, despite the 17 mile trek, I probably could have kept going after a brief rest, some food, and hydration. I like that I recovery quickly, but I wonder if I tried my luck at a more challenging (read: hilly) course, my body would be less enthused to keep going. I know, especially after last week’s adventure along 611 and 32 by the Canal Park, that hills remain a challenge that I need to keep tackling. It’s one thing to keep myself amused on flat rails-to-trails or canals, and to go easy on the intensity of my hill climbs in a spinning class, but if I actually want to get somewhere, I need to practice on real roads. That, and I think I will, in the near future, be committing to new pedals and proper shoes that will allow me to clip in. It was only today that I found myself wishing to make use of the upstroke when I’m pedaling, but the thought of it consumed my mind for a good ten minutes and no matter how hard I tried, even the “scraping mud off your shoes” trick didn’t help me as much as I wanted.

For now, I’ve recently purchased a portable tire pump; a U-lock; cable; and the RockyMounts Clutch SD bike rack so I can actually use the track system already in my truck’s bed. I’ll feel more comfortable making longer drives with the bike secured, not just lying on its side. I just need the spare tire tube(s) and I might actually be set to expand my treks. I can also use it as a mode of transportation for local trips instead of hauling the gas-guzzling Frontier out to go two miles. Whether I will, which guarantees me interaction with traffic, is yet to be seen. But I’ll be better equipped, and that also means I could try a ride with the Lehigh Valley Wheelmen if I so choose. I like options, and although I’m enjoying my solo trips, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to get out and meet some more people and learn from them. Or at least try their routes and feel more comfortable in case something happens. That’s said, my brother – an avid cyclist and fitness aficionado – reminded me that it might be wise to practice changing my tires at home so I get it down and don’t have to do it for the first time when I’ve actually got a flat and am freaking out on the side of the road. That, and with the new bike lock for the truck, I’m going to have to be proficient in removing and reattaching the front tire anyway. Still lots to get and learn and do, but as always, I’m having fun and with the weather steadily getting nicer (and my supposed departure getting sooner), it can only get better from here.

Catching Up

Part I: Delaware Canal State Park

Last week, I kept a promise to myself and on Thursday morning I headed down to the Delaware Canal State Park (http://www.dcnr.state.pa.us/stateparks/parks/delawarecanal.aspx). The drive is lovely: about thirty minutes through rolling countryside, spotted with farms and, even better, lacking in developments. Rte 412 takes you through Bethlehem, Hellertown, and Springfield before meeting with 212, which is the road to the canal park. 212 ends at 611, a notoriously scenic road that mimics the Delaware River’s path. I parked in the small, packed dirt parking lot and did my usual clambering into the truck bed to unload the bike; stretching; and organizing my too-big backpack. I headed off south along the canal, figuring that I could ride south on the path until I got far enough – I was hoping for five miles – and then ride back along the road. I knew I wanted to try some on-road cycling because it’s one of the things that makes me most nervous and yet it will be the basis of my cross-country trip. That is, unless I can find Rails-to-Trails and canal paths criss-crossing the country, in which case I’ll be a happy camper. Or cycler.

I got perhaps a quarter mile along the path, which was narrow and mostly packed dirt or loose stones, and then came to a screeching –skidding – halt. Ahead of me, the path was completely washed out. A cement bridge lay several feet below the rest of the path, and even though I wandered closer to inspect for a possible path, it was impassable. Disgruntled, I turned and headed back the way I came. I paused at the parking lot to stretch before continuing north. Having seen what part of the path looked like, I was on guard for any other major obstructions. At first, the path ran through the woods, and unlike the southern route, it was packed dirt and much smoother. I passed a few people walking dogs or just out enjoying the pretty morning. The towns I passed were quaint and quiet; the roads seemed wide and empty, which I took to heart considering I wanted to cycle back on them. Eventually, the towpath left the forest and I found myself cycling along in brilliant sunshine, the Delaware sparkling and dancing to my right. Along the way, I had encountered a few rough patches where there were looser rocks, roots, or areas where the surface had washed out and created divots, puddles, and extra rocky portions. Out in the sunshine, however, I encountered more concrete bridges and a few places where the trail suddenly went sharply downhill and up again; in some places I had maybe a foot –maybe, and even so, not always a clean foot – to balance upon with a tumble into the river on one side and slipping into mud, rocks, and really rough terrain on the other. Sometimes I had six inches, and you can bet I tightened my core to hold myself in place as I maneuvered carefully onto stretches of concrete sidewalk. I’m sure that, had I more confidence and capability, I could have gone right through the puddles or miscreant sections of washed-out trail. In time, I’ll be braver.

I stopped in this open section to take a few pictures, and then again when a man walking his dogs questioned my access point and my opinion of the trail. We chatted for a while, introduced ourselves, and off I went. The trail returned to the woods after that, and was uneventful until I hit a patch of sand. A family acquaintance is an avid cyclist: he participates in a lot of state-wide events, especially those benefitting the Dana Farber Cancer Foundation, due to his son having leukemia as a kid. A year ago, this man road over sand, braked, and had a horrendous accident that left him seriously injured and in the hospital for months. His story flashed through my mind as my bike twisted, bucked, and halted before I could figure out how to avoid the area. Sand is not a friend, apparently. I was fine, and kept going, cautiously avoiding the next few sections of sand.

I ended my sojourn at another trailhead, this one with a huge lock system and what seemed to be a visitor’s house. It was more official than where I had parked, and clearly a starting point for visitors seeking a history lesson and not just the experience of the canal path itself. There were many bridges and locks along the trail; maybe every half mile or so. Some lead to houses; others to the road. When I reached my limit for how far down I wanted to go, I sped up a paved hill and with a deep breath headed onto the road. I hit another small incline around a tight corner first, and was relieved when I got my gear shifting correct. The down-hill was much steeper, and I finally shifted into third on my left gears. I’d been only in second on that side, and the difference going downhill was awesome. I managed to maintain an average of 20mph for the trip back; the warm-up on the canal helped. When I drove this route the next day with my mom, I realized that there was a lot that I had noticed, but not seen. The town of Riegelsville is gorgeous, if haunted. Trees were coming into flower, pinks and whites; the houses are old, either stone or clapboard; and the library sits majestically upon a hill. I did not venture down to the Riegelsville Inn, said to be one of the most haunted structures in the state. Hopefully, as I get out more and become increasingly comfortable, I’ll actually see what I’m passing instead of just flying by it.

I navigated my first traffic light, mostly by whispering, “Stay green, stay green, stay green!” and later was passed for the first time by an 18-wheeler. I felt quite small, and wondered incredulously at the cycling tip I just read on a Bicyling.com email that a great way to increase speed is to ride right behind a vehicle because you take advantage of the total lack of wind resistance. It’s called “motorpacing” and was a “this works, but don’t ever try it” training tip. I think I’ll stick to dealing with wind. I returned safe and sound to my own vehicle, and was proud of my almost-nine mile trek. It’s a route I will absolutely return to, even if only to continue learning on a relatively flat road with little traffic. Hopefully next time I’ll get some better pictures, too. I’m not sure that, given the economy and rising gas prices, driving an hour round-trip for a 45-minute bike ride is worthwhile, but I’d like to go back down and ride for longer. It seems like a good place to push my mileage higher while enjoying the view. I also know that there is a good loop from the Bucks County Horse Park to the junction of 212 and 611. It’s longer than I’ve done yet, and I would need to be ready to encounter some serious hills, but at some point it’s something I’d like to try. I could also park at the BCHP, and cycle down 611 to 32, in Upper Black Eddy, PA. There seems to be a loop in there, but again, it’s more demanding than any of my little routes thus far, but in time I’ll get there. I do enjoy a challenge, after all.

Part II: On-Roading

I achieved another goal this week when I upgraded my basic flip-phone to smart phone. I’d had the iPhone in mind, but went with the LG Quantum instead. I figured with my newfound hobby taking me out and about into the wilds of Pennsylvania, I needed some sort of GPS function that would allow me to figure out where I am and how to get back to where I want to be. Also, I cracked the screen on my other phone, which was the third I’d had in a year. Seriously time for a change.

To test this theory, and to get some road experience, I headed up Rte 512 to the Bethlehem Diner and CVS that sits just on the border of suburbia and farmland. I parked at the back of CVS, taking note that there were no “CVS Customer Parking Only” signs, and ignoring those declaring, “No Skateboards, Rollerblades, and Bicycles.” I promised to the security camera that’d I’d buy something when I returned, and to please not have my car towed. Off I went, cycling first through a burgeoning development (or newly constructed; maybe not so successful in the populating) and I appreciated the slow transition to my totally on-road experience and the lack of traffic. I quickly found myself on an open country road, and my first legitimate hill. Gears switched properly and I made my up slowly but steadily. At the very least, I stayed in a relatively straight line. Props to me. I flew down the much longer other side and was thankful for that arrangement; not sure I would have made it up if the situation was reversed. I like the idea of open country roads because a) not too many people travel them; b) they’re open and wide enough for those few cars to pass with ease; and 3) they lead to really lovely vistas. I passed cows; ramshackle barns; farmers getting on with their next set of projects; front yards packed with toys and cars and laundry lines; and, of course, empty fields ready to be plowed, planted, fertilized, and so forth. Mostly it was flat, but I found myself eager for the few hills that I came across because, as much as they intimidate me, I know I have to tackle them sooner or later; and the more I do, the better I’ll get.

Again, I found that once I stopped for my first drink and stretch (and to check out where I was on my awesome smart phone map), I was able to pick up the pace and hold it. I was averaging 18mph, and it felt awesome. When I’m riding my horse, I only notice the breeze on my face because it relieves the heat and sweat; I’m generally completely focused on what we’re doing and don’t notice much else. On a bike, there isn’t as much thinking needed, at least not out in the middle of nowhere with no cars around. I was able to appreciate where I was, and to feel the cool relief; smell the cows; hear the gurgling of Monocacy Creek. I found this easier and more fun than I expected, and it makes me increasingly eager to try longer trips, to drive out into the country or to parks and try cycling out there. I’m thinking that I’d like to take a trip to Gettysburg and try out my skills there. It would be practice for the actual cross-country trip: drive to a location, park, and then bike from there. Not sure if I’d stay in a motel or the back of my truck yet; I guess go prepared for both. I know now that I’m capable of cycling more than I have been. I never come back exhausted and unable to do another mile. I generally feel like I could have a brief break for hydration, stretching, and nourishment; and then keep going. I’d like to test this theory, perhaps on a weekend when I don’t have to head to the barn. I’m thinking of heading to Jacobsburg Park this weekend to see how it works out. The hiking backpack will come in handy, as I’ll need food and probably more water.

I returned to CVS and to my truck, but was dismayed that the whole thing had taken only 45 minutes and covered about nine miles. It seems like I should have been out longer or gone farther; maybe I should have rested at the truck and then done another loop. Perhaps this is something to consider for next time. Or I find a longer circuit to being with, and force myself to be out longer. At any rate, I was proud that I’d finished my first road ride, and managed both traffic and hills. I saw more than I did when I was down at the Delaware Canal Park, so hopefully even in that amount of time I’ve grown more confident and comfortable. I don’t think I have a preference yet when it comes to towns like Riegelsville or farmland like in the Hanoverville Rd/Jaindl Blvd/Township Line Rd/Silver Crest Rd/Newburg Rd/Georgetown Rd/Hanoverville Rd loop. Luckily, I enjoyed them both, and am eager to head out again, keep exploring and challenging, and just go wherever my next trek takes me.

D & L Canal Trail North

I woke up this morning feeling sort of sad, or at least more melancholy than I usually do. My life over the past week and a half has been sort of shaken up, and even my riding seemed to regress to beginner mistakes. I woke up knowing I had to go for a bike ride, but not knowing what route to try. I just felt listless and bored, tired of living in such a busy commuter area and still feeling too nervous to just get on my bike from my front door and go. But I got myself out of bed and sorted out enough to drive down to the Canal Trail, knowing I wanted to try going north this time because I was curious as to where it went and because I knew it was a longer trail. I wanted to break ten miles today because I’ve been stuck in a seven to nine mile range; and really I just wanted to say, “I biked ten miles this morning.” It sounds better than, “I bike 8.75 miles.”

So I joined the fishermen’s vehicles, unloaded my bike, strapped on my backpack, stretched, and headed off. Within five minutes I noticed the first major difference between north and south: north is a packed dirt or crushed rock road, smooth, flat, and easy to ride; whereas south was mostly a narrow trail of packed dirt or sand and often gave way to washed-out areas of rock and sand. North is, in this regard, easier because it’s literally smooth cycling for the entire 4.2 mile stretch. It runs between the railroad track and the Lehigh River, creating a juxtaposition of new versus old. I found myself musing about the canal horses that used to walk along the path I now bike, faithfully pulling boats along the small waterway as the Lehigh gurgled along beside them. Now, trains transport their cargo faster and further while ducks and geese paddle in the canal. The Lehigh continues to tumble and glide between its banks, standing the test of time and transition of technology.

It didn’t take long for my mood to change, and soon I was smiling and enjoying myself. I splashed through puddles, sending mud up to my shoulders and even into my helmet. My muscles felt strong and sturdy, and my breathing was more regular than ever. I’ve discovered that I do need about three miles or so to warm up, and that I usually stop to stretch, drink, and take some pictures around that point. After my first stop, I’m much faster and able to maintain a faster pace. I like cycling with more tension, and usually find myself in the second and sixth gears. Shifting still isn’t quite second nature; I tend to shift up when I mean to shift down, which leaves me swearing and muttering as I quickly shift correctly and continue up whatever hill I’m facing. I appreciate the canal trails for their almost total flatness because they are helping me with my long-distance endurance and allowing me to build my confidence and capabilities. I know that I need to start adding some hilly rides into my routine as those crank up my heart rate, challenge my breathing methods, and make my legs ache.

I reached the end of the trail without realizing I had; I sped up a hill and into what appeared to be a parking lot, then a picnic area as I searched for the connection to the rest of the trail. Finding nothing, I returned to a map posted, but of found it useless: sometimes, a “You are here” symbol is quite handy. Behind me, I noticed a trail that went under the railroad bridge and then off onto the woods. That seemed to be what I sought, and so off I went. On the other side of the bridge, I was shocked to see that I had cycled to Allentown: the PPL building stood tall and tanned in the distance. My small trail continued, although this was a far cry from what I had been cycling on all morning: this was a narrow path and overrun with briar bushes that created a nice slalom course for me. At a fork offering trail versus bridge, I went left on the path and into the woods. Immediately, I hit the brakes to avoid smashing into a fallen tree. The adventurous part of me wanted to clamber over and see where the trail went; the logical part said I could cross the bridge and go along the road. Two steps onto the bridge indicated that may also be a bad plan: its plywood surface seemed unstable at best. I turned around completely and headed back the way I came.

Knowing what lay ahead, I picked up my speed from the 10-12mph I averaged on the way out, and maintained a 15-17mph pace for the entire stretch back. Just as I was getting to the ten mile distance, my hips, legs, and butt started to get sore. I shifted up and got out of the saddle, although my pedaling is much less smooth when I’m standing, or even hovering. Even a few seconds helped my seat feel better, but my quadriceps burned. It was also the only place where goose hissed at me. They vastly outnumber people on the trail, so I should be thankful that one warning was all I got, and that it was relatively non-threatening. A mallard and his mate ignored me completely as I sped by, and what I think was a Baltimore oriole dived and climbed air currents above me.

I made it back to the trail head and decided to just push a little further to make sure I hit ten and even eleven miles. I pedaled above the southern trail, hit some little hills, and felt a little like a mountain biker. It was only when I got to this more public area that I realized it may be time to invest in some proper biking attire. My polyester tank top was fine; my athletic bra was not. The amount of cleavage I was sporting had to catch the eye of the fishermen along the creek. It may be smarter to keep things a bit more concealed if I’m biking by myself. I like the idea of a nice tan, but it’s time to head to Sports Authority in search of a) a better cycling bra; b) cycling shorts (yes to padding!); and though I hate to say it, c) a fanny pack of sorts. I’ve been cycling with a hiking backpack on to carry my wallet, camera, car keys, and phone. I’d like to downsize as it would not only leave my bright colored shirt visible to motorists instead of hiding it behind a gray pack, but it will not impede my tanning. I’ll have to figure out something different for my camera, too. I also need to get that spare tire tube and pump; I’m out and about enough now that it’s just silly to not have them. My bike computer is working super well, and I need to start recording my distances, calories, average speeds, etc. I like tracking that sort of thing. I think I’m almost ready to get involved with the Lehigh Valley Wheelmen. I can hold my speed fairly well, although less so on hilly roads; and I’m better at staying in a straight line. A few more solo trips and then that’ll be my next big step.

The more I get out and ride, the more eager I become to make my adventure happen. I’m thinking maybe of focusing it on state and national parks and forests, as in drive to Shenandoah, park, then bike and camp. I’m not sure of all the rules and regulations, but I’ve still got time to research and plan. That’s as fun as the actual training. I also have two possible adventuring partners, which is awesome. They both have first priorities that are not a cross country bike trip, but have seriously agreed that if those first plans fall through, they’re genuinely intrigued by my idea. One wants to go to Atlanta; the other the Pacific Northwest. That definitely works for me.

Cycling Class

Note: I wrote this post back on the 14th, when it was accurate to weather, time, and adventures. I'm posting it now, but have two others drafted that focus on my inaugural cycling trip to the Delaware Canal State Park; as well as my first completely on-road expedition. Hopefully it won't take me so long to post those.

I woke up to rain yesterday, as expected, and as I was lying in bed wishing it was sunny and 60, it occurred to me: there’s a spinning class at 9.30!! I can follow through on my fleeting thought of returning to the spinning room at the gym and see how it goes!

Generally, I like to be up and done with the gym well before 10.30, when the class is scheduled to end; I just never actually get up in time to make that a reality. There are random days when I’m there at 7.30, but usually it’s 8.30 or so. I warm-up, lift, and run and am done in an hour and a half. Getting up at 6.00am never bothered me when I worked at the horse rescue; I loved it. On principle, I vastly prefer getting up early and getting the most out of my day. It’s just that, at the moment, my “job” isn’t inspiring enough to get me up and raring to go; plus I work from home, so it’s not as though I’m due at an office by 9am. I work the best under deadlines, but my project manager made the mistake of telling me to “take my time because she was behind.” While I am disciplined in some regards, making myself do work I find boring and monotonous is not a skill I’ve grown to possess (hence the complete fear of commitment to any sort of Mon-Fri, 9-5-ish job). So, due to disinterest and a lax schedule, I don’t often get to the gym when I’d like. This is actually a vicious cycle because by the time I get back, clean up, check my email, and mess around on Facebook, I’ve wasted another hour and then have only two-ish before I head to the barn, where I’d much rather be. My lack of focus really only perpetuates having a job I dislike.

So, sidebar aside, a class starting at 9.30am makes me feel quite like a housewife-in-training, minus the husband and children. But I head to the gym anyway, and walk straight back to the spinning room. I’ve often heard the music blasting out when I’ve been lifting with free weights, but I’ve yet to venture inside since the classes were moved into this small back room. It’s actually perfect, except for the lack of ventilation. Four rows of bikes greet me, as do a dozen moms, a few retirees and a handful of girls my own age. I guess they’re in college or, like me, work odd jobs at odd hours. I pick my bike, stretch, and start pedaling. It’s very clear that a group of women know each other, maybe through PTA, soccer, spinning, or some other community-encouraging activity. I’m still not sure how I find those for my own age group.

That said, there is a large range of body types and, judging solely on appearance and age, physical ability in the room, and I am reminded why I enjoy cycling so much. Not only is it an outstanding work-out, but it’s really and truly anonymous and personal. The lights are off, and the music is loud: no one can see you struggling, watch the sweat roll off you, or hear you getting winded. It’s also far more personalized than a typical aerobics class since you control the speed of your pedaling and the tension of your own bike; if you’re pedaling slower than your neighbor, it could be because your intensity is three turns higher or because you’re out of shape. You challenge yourself with suggestions and guidance from the routine hollered out by the instructor.

The instructor for my class is not the shrieking women from before, nor does she play her music at record-breaking decibels. Our class spent a lot of time doing hill work, and I was actually really proud of myself: given my poor performance the day before, I wasn’t sure I’d make it through a full hour of a formal class. I had to pedal through some of the last intervals when the rest of the group was enjoying posting every four and then two beats; and my intensity may not have been as high as it could have gone, but overall I made it through the class and felt great. I’ve never sweated so much in my life, and I understand why a woman in my row had her own bike fan. The hour passed quickly with each interval broken down into minutes or seconds; and I find that music is always helpful. The playlist our instructor had was great; a good mix of songs with a variety of tempos. I left with a drenched shirt, a red face, tired legs, and a sense of satisfaction that I had just gotten my butt kicked in the best way possible. I think that’s why I’m tending to choose exercises that have a place in the gym, but even more have a use in the real world. I can jog outside; I can bike outside; riding outside, versus in an indoor, is my preference; and if I wanted to, I’m sure I could box outside. I don’t, but the option is there. I enjoy exercising when my mind is engaged or emptied; all of these things do that.

It doesn’t hurt that an hour of spinning burns anywhere from 700 to 1,000 calories. It feels like you’re working, for sure; but that’s a lot of calories to lose doing something so fun. A decent article regarding the physical benefits of spinning can be found here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/928615/ten_benefits_of_spinning_exercises_pg2.html?cat=5

Indoor Cycling

Monday of this week was absolutely gorgeous: sunny and 84 degrees in the afternoon. I was set to head down to the Delaware Canal State Park and try cycling along the canal path on way, and then on the road on the return. I was in the park over the weekend, volunteering with a spring clean-up effort, and I became instantly smitten with the area. The drive alone is beautiful, flowing from rolling hills and farms to forest to cliffs overlooking the Delaware River and its canal path (http://scenicbuckscounty.com/Canal/Canal.html) . The same trail I’ve cycled in Bethlehem continues down in Upper Black Eddy, PA; the whole route is some 60 miles long. I didn’t quite make it out to the river roads this time; instead, I spent an hour installing my new bike computer and then headed to the barn to ride the mare. So, not so great on the cycling front, but I had an excellent ride on my horse, and started my suntan. J

It rained today, and is supposed to again tomorrow; I didn’t want to lose whatever, if any, progress I’ve made, even if only in keeping my seat bones adjusted to a bicycle saddle. I’m surprised as to how quickly my rear end did adjust to the bike seat, and I’m attributing it to spending hours in an equine saddle. Although much wider, that saddle still makes your butt bones sore until you’ve become accustomed, and I think it’s definitely given me a slight edge over the discomfort I anticipated. Still, I don’t want to give myself an entire week off due to weather.

So off I went to the gym to try out the spinning bikes they have. I used to do the classes until my favorite instructor left and was replaced by one who shrieked and had her music way too loud. I’ve seen women doing their own workouts, and I figured, “Why not me, too?” I warmed up for a few minutes and then started with some sprints, a hill climb, got up and out of the saddle, and then did sixty seconds solo on with each leg. I was drenched within minutes, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t entirely because I was in a stuffy back room. I’m surprised as to how different my body handled the two forms of cycling; if anything, I thought it would have been easier inside and harder outside. I haven’t been as winded on the trail as I was in the gym; not sure if this is due to the general flatness of the trails versus the varied routine I set for myself. My ride at the gym was half the time that I’ve ridden outside, and I feel vastly more out of shape than I anticipated. Maybe I can attribute it to a lack of fresh air and no breeze on my face?

Regardless, I think supplementing my outdoor rides with indoor cycling is a decent plan; maybe not as fun, but it certainly can’t hurt improve my cardio and stamina, at least on rainy days. It definitely intrigues me to try my hand at cycling classes again, especially as a supplement for those rainy days when car versus bike on slippery surface seems less than awesome. Gold's Gym offers classes, and if I can avoid that instructor I didn't care for, I'm totally game; at least until I become comfortable cycling outdoors in the rain. But baby steps to start with; I’m still getting used to riding on dry surfaces.

On another note, I find myself immensely fascinated with other cyclists I see on the road now. Instead of grumbling as I pass them in my truck, I do so with care as I observe their technique, their jerseys, their straight lines, and their killer legs. I’ve never seen a cyclist without stellar calf muscles. I need to practice a bit more on my own before I’ll feel comfortable enough to join a group, even if it’s a beginner’s or social group. I’m anxious to get back out and hit the trails and venture out onto the long, open roads that weave across the Pennsylvania countryside. I’m intrigued by this inside versus outside difference in my body’s cycling ability; and I’m inspired by my discovery of the Bucks County roads to keep on searching for others. Not sure if I’ll get out this week, as I’m switching it up with some cross-training, including jogging, weight lifting, and boxing. I also get to ride almost every day, so at least I’m still getting out and about, rain or shine.