Due to the lack of motorized transportation (the van brakes broke and no longer brake), the cleanup of our adopted highway is postponed to Sunday, October 13 and will honor the birthday of one of our riders who will be off to Spain and miss all the fun. Come and join us to clean one of the most beautiful miles of road in the county.
The next day will be the Half-fast Fall Ride. We’ll miss our weary traveler off in Spain but hope for another great ride, great food, and some fall color. Great camaraderie goes without saying. We’ll let you know how it went.
The reports are in and The Ride (the benefit for the Carbone Cancer Center) had its best fundraising totals yet. One might say this is remarkable since we didn’t even ride (canceled due to thunderstorms with torrential rains), but maybe that’s why it did so well – no day of ride expenses (but they must have had a lot of bananas to donate to the food pantry). Thanks to those who donated on behalf of the Half-fast Cycling Club, and all other donors.
Floods are back. We usually have spring flooding here, if at all. Last year the river was out of its banks in August. It looks like tomorrow the banks will no longer hold. We know someone who had to sleep overnight in her office due to flooding last night.
The night before The Ride, the forecast for ride time is a 90% chance of rain. During the course of the day, that dips to as low as 75% briefly. If this were a ride just for fun, I’d bail about now. But this is a fundraiser, and folks have donated on my behalf. I feel a responsibility toward them. Besides, 70 degrees and rain is way better than 40 degrees and rain. So I readied my gear, with some choices for weather: do I wear a rain jacket and pants to stay dry from the outside, or do I forgo the rainwear, figuring at that temperature I’ll get wet from the inside if I wear waterproof clothing? Do I wear the raingear so I’ll stay warm, or will it be warm enough to be a non-issue? Maybe if I just wear shoecovers to keep my feet dryish and warm. Regular jacket? Long sleeve jersey? Leg warmers? I tossed them all in the car. It’s not that far to the ride start, but do I want to add 18 miles to a 102 mile ride, arriving at the start already wet, and riding home wet? No; I’ll drive to the start and be able to dry off and change clothes before I go home.
Four nights in motels, four days sitting in conference rooms, not in the saddle for more than a week – probably not the ideal training, but I can say I was tapering so as not to be over-trained. Yeah, I can say it.
After a quiet night, the first thunderstorm rolls in at 4:30 AM. A flash flood watch is in effect. The forecast has been revised to 100% chance of rain most of the day, dipping to 80% from 10-11. The time comes to leave the house. No lightning at the moment, but the rain is coming down so hard I can barely see the car parked at the curb. I’m not so sure I want to drive in this weather, much less spend 8 hours out in it. And it’s still dark out, which does not make it more inviting. Decision made: I wouldn’t let a knight go out on a dog like this. Responsibility is one thing. Foolishness is another. As I said in a post a month ago: “I mostly want to ride that day”. Well, that day is here. I mostly don’t want to ride. The money I spent to register and the money donated by others will go to cancer research whether I’m on the road or not. [See below!] Since I’ve already had a double espresso, I probably won’t be going back to bed.
The half-fast fall ride is just around the corner. You can pretend you’re donating in honor of that, if you’d like. It’s still a long bike ride, just no support unless you count the resturants we’ll be stopping by.
It rained for 12 hours. Only a bit of flooding, at least from where I sit. I stayed in all day to prove I’m half-fast. I didn’t just lie around and drink beer and watch football (or eat bon bons). I have a short-term job. I’ll work for 14 hours later this week. To do that, they required 4 hours of computer-based training. I spent the morning staring at a computer screen for courses on data security and workplace harassment. At 6 pm I finally went out and got my stuff from the car. The sun was shining.
The first day of fall dawned beautifully, with clear sky, crisp air, 55 degrees (13 degrees C). A perfect day for a ride; just a day late.
The PBS country music series is back on. Last night was a reminder of the social consciousness of country music in the 60s. Loretta Lynn wrote the song “The Pill”, in which she stated her refusal to be a brood hen anymore. (She had four kids by the age of 20, six by the time she wrote the song – which the label refused to release for a few years.) She also addressed the issue of marital rape (though not in so many words) with this song:
Merle Haggard sang of turning “21 in prison, doing life without parole”. (He was actually in for 15 years and did get out on parole.) People know him for “Okie From Muskogee”, far from his best song. He also sang of a man on death row. On his way to the gas chamber, he asked to have a buddy sing his last request – “Sing Me Back Home”. He sang of his “Mama’s Hungry Eyes”, growing up as a dust bowl refugee. But among his most poignant was the song of a single parent, pretending that the birthday gift for his daughter was from the absent spouse who didn’t bother to remember.
And in 1964 Johnny Cash released the album “Bitter Tears” about the mistreatment/genocide of First Nations people by the US Government.
Call me a wimp no more. I just checked my work email and The Ride was canceled. It wasn’t just me. (Interesting: at 1:01 AM they notified me the ride was canceled, at 6:01 AM they reminded me to sign up for Live Tracking and at 6:23 AM they notified me again that the ride was canceled. And I’m always checking my work email at 6 on Sunday mornings.)
This area used to be home to the mound builders, including those we call the Mississippians. The Ho Chunk called this home. In the 1800s, German and Norwegian immigrants moved in. Then there was a small settlement known as Frenchtown. As usually happens, one person moved into the area and told others. Soon (in the 1850s) there was a small enclave of French immigrants among the First Nations, German, and Norwegian people who were already here.
The other night I went for a ride on Frenchtown Road. It was hot, after a few weeks of fall-like weather. It was humid, during a brief break from the rain – a flash flood warning was issued just before I sat down to write this. One good thing about Frenchtown Road, riding on it always makes me think about Bob Marley.
I am a doer, not an organizer or a fundraiser. As a result, my fundraising for The Ride has been pathetic, and the ride is this weekend. We’ll see if I’m in any shape to ride after four days in motels and conference centers, talking instead of riding. I’m going to ask again for donations, as this hit close to home recently. Thanks again to Vikki for being the first donor on the half-fast page. The Ride is a fundraiser for the Carbone Cancer Center, and one of the half-fast riders recently had a biopsy for suspected cancer. That person doesn’t have cancer, but it reminded me that one needn’t look sick, feel sick, or seem sick in any way to have cancer. It is an equal opportunity destroyer.
It’s a beautiful evening for a walk, but I’m in that god forsaken wilderness made up of motels and chain restaurants; a landscape designed exclusively for the automobile. I walked to and from a nearby restaurant, strolling through parking lots and meandering entrance roads – the sort that are supposed to feel “organic” I guess; curving paths that might be intended to seem like they acknowledge the landscape, but are merely someone’s perversely poor attempt to do something other than make a straight road. Can we tell them there is nothing wrong with a straight road, when the landscape is open and flat? Okay; I know that’s not all it is. Those roads wander apparently aimlessly but not really aimlessly at all. The point of roads through shopping centers is to get you to drive past as many of the stores as possible in order to get you to spend more money. If it’s hard to find your way out you’ll drive past even more of them.
So while hanging out in cheap motels this week, I’ve been watching the Ken Burns series on country music on PBS. The most recent episode featured one of the best recordings around -the incomparable Patsy Cline singing one of Willie Nelson’s greatest songs:
I learned something new on the show. The song “Family Bible” was written by Willie Nelson. I was introduced to the song not by the original 1960 Claude Gray recording (which didn’t credit Nelson as the writer), but by the 1971 release by Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen (lest you think I’m a purist).
That album also brought the (in)famous country tearjerker “Seeds and Stems Again Blues”. This was a great crying in your beer song about lost love and lost everything else, with an obligatory spoken verse and a sobbing steel guitar, but maybe if it were written by the Onion (actually Bill Kirchen and Commander Cody). They don’t seem to want me to embed this video, so find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNWw2NFo_ec
Rather than give Commander Cody the last word, I’ll also add that it’s time to clean our adopted highway again. We’re looking at Sunday, October 6 at noon tentatively. Let us know if you can make it. The Dane County Highway Commission will supply the safety vests, gloves, and trash bags. The Dane County drivers will supply the trash.
I’m gonna pretend I can ride a century without training. I trained hard for the Horribly Hilly Hundreds in June; surely some of that will bleed over into September, eh?
The Ride is a century sponsored by my employer. It is on (approximately) the autumnal equinox; seems like a good excuse for a century ride. It’s in a not-too-hilly area where I don’t ride a lot. I oughta be able to do this. They want me to raise $350. I mostly want to ride that day. It’s a century and it’s the equinox and it’s a Sunday so I don’t work. Seems like enough reasons to me. (Reasons? I ain’t got no reasons. I don’t need no reasons! I don’t have to show you any stinking reasons!) Since it raises funds for the Carbone Cancer Center, I welcome your donations in my name (Half-fast Cycling Club).
This is going to spawn multiple tangents, so strap in for the ride. The Ride reminds me of a plan I once had for The One Ride. I designed the logo, t-shirt, jersey, and the tagline: “One continent, One rider, One cause.” It was to be a solo cross-country fundraising tour to raise funds for the JNCL Research Fund. It never happened.
JNCL is short for Juvenile Neuronal Ceroid Lipofuscionosis, which is long for Batten’s Disease. Battens’ Disease is an autosomal recessive genetically-transmitted disease. In lay terms, you inherit it from your parents. If both are carriers of the gene, you have a 1 in 4 chance of getting the disease. What does it mean? “Juvenile” means onset in childhood. “Neuronal” means it involves the neurons – cells which transmits signals in your nervous system. “Ceroid” refers to a yellow to brown pigment. “Lipo” refers to fats. “Fuscin” refers to a specific brown pigment in the retina. “Osis” means an abnormal condition. In short, this whole thing refers to an abnormal deposition of pigment in the retina and fatty deposits along the cells which transmit information in the nervous system. (Lipofuscin is a specific fat-based pigment that builds up as a waste product.) In short, our body fails to break down certain cellular wastes, which build up and cause symptoms.
In practical terms, it means a disease which leads to blindness, night terrors, seizures, eventual deterioration of the nervous system, and death before the age of thirty. Why am I telling you this? Because I had two nieces who died of this disease. While rare, it is most common in people of Finnish extraction (that’s me). So I planned a coast-to-coast tour to raise funds for research. At the time, the genetic component was just being discovered. One lab in the US was capable of running the tests to see if you were a carrier. There is still no cure and treatment is only symptomatic. Trouble was, I had a job and two young kids, so the trip didn’t happen, and my nieces died. That was another impetus to finally make the coast-to-coast trip last year.
Anyway, The Ride raises funds for cancer research. I see cancer patients in my day job, so I thought I’d raise the issue here. Donate if you will – no pressure. Time for the next tangent.
This weekend is the 54th annual Orton Park Festival. It takes place in an urban park (which was once our first cemetery). The park is a tiny oak savanna. The festivities begin with a performance by Cycropia, an aerial dance troupe. They string trapezes and various other accoutrements from an old burr oak in the park. It is only August, but it has suddenly changed from Pilsner weather to Oktoberfest weather. In February it doesn’t change from Stout weather to Maibock weather.
Tonight was a performance by the band formerly known as Get Back Wisconsin. Due to a cease and desist order from someone who claims ownership of Get Back, they are now Madison Mystery Tour (As of this writing, the website is a work in progress, due to the name change.) They perform a concert of each Beatles album on the 5oth anniversary of the album release. Abbey Road will be performed Saturday, October 5, 2019, at the Barrymore Theatre. I’m only telling you this because I already have my ticket. Tonight was mostly pre-Abbey Road material. The encore was “Here Comes The Sun”, which brings me to the next tangent.
It was 1987 – “En 1987 aquí no se rinde nadie” was the national slogan of Nicaragua. It was done as a call and response. The leader shouted “En mil novecientos ochenta y siete aquí” and the audience responded “no se rinde nadie!” In English, that’s “In 1987, no one here surrenders!” For those too young to remember, the US was trying to overthrow the Nicaraguan government in 1987 via an illegitimate war funded, contrary to an explicit law, by the illegal sale of weapons to an enemy (Iran), with the profits diverted to a CIA-organized and funded mercenary army (the Contra). Clearly, this was an impeachable offense, yet President Reagan remains a hero to many – a mystery to me.
In 1987, I was in Nicaragua, working for an organization called APSNICA (Architects and Planners in Support of Nicaragua), building housing on cooperatively-owned cattle ranches. We selectively logged the forests, milled the lumber, and made concrete from sand and gravel dug from the riverbank (mixed with water from that river) combined with cement from a local plant. We leveled building sites with picks and shovels (but we did have a theodolite [a precision optical instrument for measuring angles between designated visible points in the horizontal and vertical planes.]). We poured concrete slab floors and built masonry half-walls from river rock and concrete. Framing and siding were from the trees we cut and milled on-site. Zinc roofing and nails were imported from Canada. We constructed a potable water system, dug outhouses, and built a school for each group of twenty families.
It rained all night. The next morning clouds were thick. I was on the trucking crew and we were driving the loggers out to the woods. Keith Greeninger was on the logging crew. The clouds parted and the sun appeared. Keith and I were standing on the rear bumper of the truck, holding onto the superstructure onto which we would, before lunch, load freshly-milled lumber. We looked each other in the eye and began to sing “Here Comes the Sun” to each other. It was one of the more magical moments of my life. We had not spoken on the ride. We just burst into song together, there being no other apt response to the abrupt change in the weather. An hour later, he was being rushed to the hospital in Matagalpa to suture a large gash on his forehead. Upon returning, he was not able to go out and do the dirty work in the woods, so he stayed in camp and wrote songs. He is now a professional singer-songwriter. “Here Comes the Sun” still brings tears to my eyes.
The song I’d like to post, “Another Nicaraguan Night” captured those nights sitting in darkness after the generator was turned off, trading songs with the Nicaraguans. Keith tried out his new songs then. This one was also written in camp. The original title was “Eyes of Your Young” but people misunderstood the chorus, so he changed the title so that phrase was written out. (It was an unfortunate Mondegreen.)
I returned to the US, moved to San Francisco and became a plumber. But that’s another story for another time.
By the way, the third Grand Tour, La Vuelta a España, is now in progress.
Details have been released for Cycle America 2020! Now you too can ride coast-to-coast! The ride departs Seattle on Sunday, June 20 and arrives in Boston Saturday, August 22. You can ride all 9 weeks or any part thereof. Total cost is less than $7500 with early discount. That includes route planning, sag support, most of your meals, and a place to lay your head every night! (Not to mention good friends, beautiful scenery, and seeing the country at a pace amenable to that.) For those of the Facebook persuasion, you can also find info and lots of pictures from past rides here. (And even the non-Facebook users can still see the pictures – they’ll keep asking you to log in or open an account, but you can skip that.) Such a deal! Tell ’em the half-fast cycling club sent you.
A special shout-out is due to my friend at Plant-Powered Pedaling, who just completed Paris-Brest-Paris – 1220 km in under 90 hours! PBP is the ultimate in endurance rides. I’ve been following this guy for a while – I use the term “friend” in the internet sense of the word. We’ve never met. I read his blog, maybe he reads mine. He completes epic rides and (as the title implies) does it on vegan foods – not only does that mean you can perform tremendous feats on a vegan diet, but you can somehow find food while riding for hundreds of miles without external support.