Pedaling away...

This was our first weekend home without plans....

So we quickly ‘planned’ to hang out with out of towners’ on Saturday and participate in the P-town bridge pedal on Sunday. Hanging out with good friends and good food on Saturday was only marred by having to leave prematurely to work an "overnight" shift-on a side note, I love being in biking/walking distance of the aforementioned. :)

The stupidity of accepting this extra evening shift was magnified by the alarm this morning and knowing that I was committed to a 25 mile bike ride, starting at 7:30am. Not wanting to rely on the Max to get us downtown to the start line we opted for the downhill into town and to our respective start lines (note to self, barreling down Greeley is as good as a cold shower if you need to wake up). I started to feel a tickle of anticipation when we approached the top of Greeley and found that it was already closed to traffic at 6:45am and then (with the permission of the gatekeeper) I went flying down the hill at all possible speed. Joe and I got one extra bridge in to arrive and then split off at the respective start lines (Joe opted for the 10 bridge which was over 30 miles and I took the 8 bridge offering 24 miles- we figured given our different levels of skill this would work out to get us to the finish around the same time.

So wearing John’s jersey for luck, I took off around 7:45 with a horde of other 8 bridge hopefuls and meandered through the closed off streets of downtown trying to see where I could break out of the pack. I tooled around to an excellent set of music predetermined by myself for just this occasion, so, soon after setting off at a quiet 10 to 12 miles an hour I was zipping along to Zebrahead over the first of my 8 bridges. There was a few minute delay at the second bridge as we merged into a smaller streamlined biking cohort over the jelly mass we had been on the first bridge and I used the opportunity to remove my cold resistant gear-- mainly some thigh high leggings that the Freed's gifted a while back and which have been lovely for the both of us on those colder days. Pretty much after that it was smooth sailing.

With the delay at bridge two, barely 8 miles and an hour already down, I smiled benignly and chugged along fueled solely by my ipod and the serving of oatmeal that Joe bestowed upon my sleepy haze an hour or so prior.... And then they let us loose on the Marquam Bridge, holy shit, if you ever want to get my attention just set me loose on a freeway with my bicycle. How fucking cool is it to have the entirety of a mile or so stretch of I-5 North out of Downtown available for you to bike on...and across the Willamette River besides. I achieved my top speed of 32.5 pressed against my handlebars with streaming eyes and elation that cannot possibly be matched. Rejuvenated I headed through the remainder of the trail with great enthusiasm and more energy than I thought I would muster after my late night and rather careless sleeping.

I was incredibly impressed with the enormous amount of volunteers that were waiting to direct us through the many twists and turns of the route and with the amount of streets that were closed or mostly given over to the bicyclists. Having the bridges to ourselves was more than amazing ...it should be noted that hitherto at least half of these bridges were mostly ‘un-crossable’ on a bike (at least the way that we were able to cross them today). For instance the steel bridge is generally crossed at river level below car traffic, however, today; volunteers had laid plywood over the steel girded vehicle passage to allow for a fret-free crossing, I-5 was open to us, and I-405. As Freed pointed out from his first recommendation that we register for this opportunity, ‘the top level of the Freemont Bridge (I-405, which I approached in sleazy truck commercial style blaring “Wicked Garden”) is open to bicyclists only,’ that’s reason enough. I was spectacularly amazed that people crowded 5 lane highways with their bikes, stopping and staring or having a bite and sip, forgetting that some of us were still passing through…there were live bands and snacks and drinks at the major bridges and I was hard pressed to get through without having to dismount. I was less amazed by the variety of bicyclists (tandem, unicycles, recumbent) because of the tales of STP I heard, I wasn’t, however, prepared for the unpredictability of the child cyclists though. They meandered about without any thought of who/what was approaching. I have learned, simply by riding with Joe, the importance of being predictable as a bicyclist. I did not realize how conscientious I had become of the blind spots, pointing to abstract objects that line the path, keeping speed, announcing passes, until I encountered these miniature bikers. With energy levels significantly higher than mine, they were still all over the place… I realized that it takes several shouts of “on your left” to a half-sized cyclist to gain recognition and then they’ll move left thinking it’s a command rather than a notice…hmmmm

Where are my stunning photos of this rare opportunity? They are simply snapshots of the mind for this adventure was sat out by our digi which will more than likely need to be replaced before the week is out. I felt a little naked without it, but then realized that even trying to capture the moment within it would not have done it justice. The barely risen sun shooting beams through the uplifting clouds, the darkened pyramided shadow of Mt Hood looming at each crossing, the slight dribbles of rain bringing splashes of relief on the longest straightaway of the day, the jocular and friendly manner of my fellow riders, the sense of accomplishment and elation that I held as I crossed my first official finish line…the air rent with sweat and jubilation.