It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage. (Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark)

One of our favorite weekend bike rides is from home north to Hollywood along the barrier islands that make up Miami Beach and a couple other beach communities. Sometimes we stop at the Broadwalk in Hollywood. Sometimes we head to the state park north of Hollywood. It's true we're slowing down. What used to be a "recovery" ride is now a perfectly pleasant weekend pace.

 

This week we decided we wanted to head up to Hollywood for our Saturday ride. The Broadwalk wouldn't be open until next week, but Al and I aren't ready to visit any restaurants or coffee spots anyway. (It's going to be a while.) We just wanted to ride a bit on the frontage along the beach in Hollywood. The whole area is opening up for business again, and traffic is pretty much back to a light normal. It was a beautiful ride.

When we got home, I checked our mileage for the year. Al's mileage is decent, but mine is a bit under 3200 miles. I wasn't expecting a high mileage year, but that still surprised me. No travel, covid19 closings of parks, and bad weather have taken more of a toll than I guessed. It makes me wonder what I've been doing with my time. But the year is only half over. Lots of rides still ahead.

Pedal, pedal, pedal.

Luck's always to blame. (Jean de La Fontaine)

I'm clipping in again on my road bike. If I want to keep up with Al, I need to ride without flat pedals.

The bike shop put on my Shimano Click'R pedals. These are by far the easiest pedals on the planet to clip in and out of. Then I put multi-directional SPD cleats on my bike shoes. Easy peasy. You unscrew two little screws on the soles of the shoes. A piece of sole pops off. You attach the cleats with the two screws.

Years ago I had this done as part of a bike fitting. Unfortunately, I can't see a fit guy right now because of this virus thing. So I basically trusted in luck.

There are a row of joints, the MTP (metatarsophalangeal) joints, that form the ball of the foot. I needed to know the line these joints make on my foot. Everybody's foot is different, but for most people, the MTP line won't go straight across the foot. It will angle a bit or a lot. Once I knew the points on each side of my foot, I put my foot in my bike shoe and marked those two points on the sides of the soles. 

The point nearest the crank should be slightly in front of the pedal's axle. The outside point should be slightly behind the pedal's axle. 

I was going to do the first short ride with Al. I thought I'd just trust luck. I was a bit short of time, so put the cleats in the middle position on my shoes. (You know, the Goldilocks setting, not all the way forward, not all the way back.) I knew they would need adjustment, but the thing can only move a part of an inch. How big a deal can it be? I was just going to practice clipping in and out and stuff like that on my first ride. I hadn't done this stuff in a couple years, and I was a bit anxious.

It turns out, it can be a big deal. In 35 short miles, my left knee hurt, my right ankle hurt (a lot), and my right hip hurt. I limped when I finally got off the bike.

I adjusted the cleat positions to make the MTP joint lines align properly with the pedal axles. The next day Al and I took another short 35-mile ride. Success! No pain in the knee, hip, or ankle. 

Lucky me.

Coffee at Cartier

I was out on my Sunday ride. I had my little thermos of espresso. I had my scone from Madruga Bakery.

I was planning on stopping at a state park north of Miami for my treats. I was almost there when I decided I wanted a more nostalgic setting. Now I love old movies. What came to mind was that classic, Breakfast at Tiffany's. But I've always been more partial to Cartier than Tiffany's. No problem at any rate. All I had to do was route myself to the Miami Design District.

Which I did. I commandeered the seating area nearest the store. I used the rack on my bike as a makeshift table. Perfect.

Not that I conjured up Holly Golightly in the minds of the few dog walkers who strolled by. A woman in her 70s wearing a bike helmet and lycra hardly mimics the glamor of stick skinny Audrey Hepburn with her piled high dark hair, rhinestone evening jewelry, and little black dress. 

But I was humming Moon River nonetheless.

Simple goes a long way. (Bad Bunny)

I'm riding my usual days, but playmates are limited. I'm lucky to have my husband, Al, on a lot of my rides. But not all. The challenge this year: how to ride the miles I like to ride without sliding into a boredom funk. (I just can't ride the same routes over and over. It makes me feel like an idiotic gerbil on an exercise wheel.) 

So, in the last few weeks, I've been working on getting lost.

I'm riding Miami's neighborhoods with an eye for gardening, landscaping, and generally lovely tropical settings. All my rides start and end at home. I head out in the direction of the day's wind (with hopes of a tailwind when I head back home). I wander unconcerned about where I am until I reach over half of the miles I want to ride for the day. 

I am totally lost at this point. 

I go to my Garmin and tell it to take me home. Sometimes the fastest route gives me enough miles. If not, I go back on the route I came.

Simple. Get lost. Get miles.

Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple. (Dr. Seuss)

 A third of the year has slipped by. I enjoy riding by myself, but this is ridiculous. On the positive side, it has given me a lot of time to play around with bike stuff. Like clipping in. The doctors said they didn't think it will work for me anymore. I'm thinking I want to test that a bit before giving up on clipping in.

I've started making changes in how I pedal. Trying to see if I can tolerate the foot position I would need to use to clip in again. It looks hopeful. I'm trying different techniques for taping my right ankle for extra support.

I've got a pair of double-sided Shimano SPD Click'r pedals, the easiest pedals on the planet for clipping in and out. I'll give them a shot first. I found a friend in Connecticut who worked through a similar problem, and she has offered a bunch of other modifications to try.

Lots of questions about what will help and what may work. The answer is really, really simple: I won't know until I try. (Fingers crossed.)

Silly Stuff

Silliest thing: me in the only mask I own that can be worn while cycling. I have others that are OK for walks and such. This one, however, doesn't smoother you when you are breathing hard and can be washed after every wearing.

Since the start of this covid thing, we're all constantly doing risk analysis. And, not surprisingly, it is changing social rules in many neighborhoods. This is really true in one neighborhood I ride in a lot. Riding without a mask there is a big social no-no. Without a mask I get icy stares and scowls. With a mask people wave and say "good morning" and will even chat if I stop a respectful and safe distance from them. Another thing I love is their habit of saying "Thank you; enjoy your ride" when I make a wide arc around them when they are on the road walking, jogging, or biking with their family.

Here's some of the silly stuff I saw recently in this interesting area.

1. Three men had blocked off a cul de sac. In every driveway one or two kids sat. One of the men had a big chalkboard with kid's names. Another man was nearby with a stopwatch. The third man was managing the kids. I stopped a respectful distance away and asked what was going on. "PE. We're having them do sprints today. They love it. Their moms love it. Tires them out beautifully." Clever. Since they have "PE" at around the same time every day, I'm going to try to keep tabs on this merry crew.
2. Four young kids were playing outside in a yard behind a big fence and gate. A car was at the curb honking. The driver was standing by her open car door yelling at the house, "Look at the kids! Look at the kids!" Three of the kids were looking warily between the car and the house. The fourth kid was on the ground, tied up with enough rope to hold a small rodeo steer. He was crying and yelling. I decided against seeing the three little rope artists get ripped into by their mom when the noise finally caught her attention. I pedaled away.
3. I got to ask about a few interesting dogs, the type a friend calls "accidental designer dogs." Rescues mostly, but clearly adored by their owners. A delightful cocker spaniel dachshund mix. A cute collie pit bull mix. And a weird poodle husky mix (think poodle with those piercing husky eyes...)

Who knew solo bike rides could be so much fun.

What's Old Is New Again

You have to have a routine, particularly during the current lockdown. Bike rides fill mornings. After lunch, I started doing a spring cleaning of sorts.

I started with the big IKEA wardrobe we use to store bike gear. Organizing spare tires, spare tubes, tools, and spare parts. (I found 7 mounts for Garmins!) Getting an assortment of bags and gadgets sorted. Fixing gear that could be fixed. Throwing out the junk and trash. Mending a jersey or two. Throwing away some downright ratty jerseys and sun sleeves.

That went so well I continued with some online bike things. I have GPS routes from trips and events all over Florida, Georgia, and North and South Carolina. And there are the routes from friends in places I want to visit. Not to mention the gamut of rides in and around Miami. My online routes library was a chaotic jumble.

So I began by deleting routes with annoying glitches. Then I moved on to deleting routes I thought were unlikely to be used. Routes were renamed to make them easier to remember and locate. Soon a semblance of order emerged.

Of course we couldn't help but ride some of the Miami routes. Al and I had particularly nice rides to two sections of the city we hadn't ridden around in quite some time. The routes were old but felt new again. There was a warm overlay of memories of riding the routes with friends, of easy conversation and laughter.

This week we rode alone, but, nevertheless, they were there.