We spent last night at the Stamford Gables B&B, after riding 25 mikes from Oneonta. (Our room has the biggest, nicest shower I’ve ever been in.) Yesterday was a lovely. For about half an hour I collided with rain drops at the rate of approximately one per second. But the weather finally settled into the standard blue sky with cumulus clouds and a tail wind. We attained an all-time low average speed of 7.8 mph, of which I am particularly proud.
I feel a bit defensive about these days when we travel only 25 miles. Real bike tourists consider 100 miles a day a minimum, and if you can’t do that, you may as well stay home or take the bus. 25 miles is just not competitive.
On the other hand, at the end of such a day I’ve enjoyed three hours in the sunshine; I’m pleasantly tired, but not exhausted. I take a shower, lie on the bed for several hours, napping and reading junk fiction. Get up, take a walk around town. Go out to dinner. Come back to the inn, work on the blog, read some more junk fiction. Fall asleep. Really, what’s not to like?
Maybe there’s a hard core out there that dismisses our pace as “pathetic”. I like to think of it as “leisurely”. As in “a leisurely tour”, out of some piece of 19th or 18th century fiction, some era before steam power.
When we hit the road on the trike, we create a fresh variant on our lives which is almost stress free, especially since three wheels relieves us even of the stress of staying upright. We leave behind physically and psychically all the activities and complications and ramifications and responsibilities of our domestic, professional, and volunteer duties, and replace them with the simple task of rotating cranks with the power of our legs. We have something to do, some effort to make, but the effort doesn’t bleed into the past or the future; it’s just what we have to do in that moment. I think that maybe it’s this lack of stress that I really feel defensive about. Which is downright silly.
Location:New York 23,Stamford,United States