You trying to start something?

Oh, yes, right, a new year, I guess we're all looking to get that something going. Although, the last couple weeks, as we all headed to January First, I'd been musing that the solstice seems a more fitting start to the year, what with the significant change in the wiggle of the celestial rock we call home. Come to think of it, why is January One the start of the year?

Pause.

Ah, seems we can blame the Romans, and if you want to read why, I can save save you a search with a link here. Seems humans for a long time have considered their affairs more significant than the spin of our orb, so maybe out of love for the contrarian, I'll need to start a new year's tradition of watching Monty Python's Life of Brian. There are certainly worse films to view too much.

And in keeping with my tradition of belated posting, yesterday was the start of 2024. I woke after a good night's sleep after going to bed just one hour shy of midnight, err, Greenwich Mean Time. Decades ago, my friend Sandy had told me of a new year's tradition he had with friends of riding through a deserted Hartford early in the morning. Of course, a deserted Hartford is no longer so unique, but the morning of January First is niticeably pretty quiet most places.

On pleasingly low trafficked roads, I rode up the Montague, where my friend Jake and maybe sixty others who didn't stay up too late started running a 10k (6.2 miles, for those who accept they reside in a former British colony, and don't get me started on cyclists who train in kilometers. Trust, don't, you don't want to read that too.) race. I've long recognized that the sport of running seems populated by the proverbial morning doves, so maybe that and my long lower leg means I really was better suited to running, but oh well, at least with my youthful switch to bikes, I can still walk without clattering knees.

Watching the race was fun, and with the running surface pavement, I was happy to watch the start idle, on the sidewalk. To give the tight pack time to spread, I finished my sandwich then started causally riding the course backwards, figuring I would roll behind and cheer Jake to the finish. I had confirmed with him earlier that some bloke comfortably rolling along on two wheels at his race pace wouldn't be an annoyance.

I did say "casually riding" which left plenty of time for stopping to peruse the course-side free pile gems.

A little less than back to the 50% mark, I enjoyed some hot tea and sunshine, both helping to warm my toes (foreshadowing alert!), and soon the lead runner was upon me, and Yay Jake!, not much later he was as well! I rode along beside or just behind him, careful to not transgress by pacing him or giving a draft, although I did mention that if he took the freebie roadside bike a mile up the road, he could definitely catch the two guys he was chasing! Sometimes life is better with technology, but Jake kept it pure.

At the finish, I realized one of that pack of two Jake was trailing was Matt, another local trail runner I knew and with whom I'd once or twice spun my feet. Just a little later, I learned Matt reads this blog, so "Hi, Matt!," and thanks for reading, and thank you to all who keep me from writing to myself, which I now wonder, is that more or less bad than talking to oneself?

Runners run. So after running the race, the few competitors I knew headed out for a cool down jog and invited me and my bike to join. Shortly after starting, the group split and I stayed with the shorter option. After all, I had to coast along the extra weight of a bicycle. As perks to joining, I saw two new roads in Montague center I'd never explored, and they included a nifty water wheel, and then, hey, another roadside free pile! Remember me mentioning slightly cold feet? Yes, this is the life I live!

I'd passed on the earlier bike and scooter, but cozy toe warmers were far to perfectly timely to possibly say no.

I eventually made it back to the start/finish after the runners (slower living through technology?), and confurred with Jake before he headed inside for a well deserved plate of post race vittles. Yes, runners run, and 6.2 miles wasn't enough of that for Jake, so he said he was game to join my off-pavement run part way home from the gated base of Rattlesnake Gutter Road.

Rattlesnake Gutter Road, a name like that deserves a second mention, and it may have been the start of my love for great road names that began back in my college days, although top title is now shared by Skunk Misery Road in Haddam, Connecticut and its Catskillian near twin, Skunks Misery Road. And happily, both roads are excellent in more than just name.

Jake and I had a fun run. Well, hopefully Jake had a SECOND fun run, and we were even treated to a view of what may or may not have been Brushy Mountain, which for Jake may have compensated for hearing my hypothesis that growing up running through the woods, and maybe spraining my ankles on a weekly basis is the reason masseuses always comment on my lack of ankle articulation and that's why I actually enjoy running on scree. It's harder to roll a mostly fused ankle.

Quick, before this degrades into another post about my feet, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

or ...Post Solstice! if, like I do, you prefer.