My bike meets a soul mate

A bike is a bike is a bike is a bike, but I rose mine to end up somewhat iconoclast versus the most standard breeds of two wheeled flowers. All dubious tributes to Gertrude Stein aside, at the Mount Tom trail running race this past Saturday, I was excited to notice another bike ten feet from mine. Yes, seeing others use two wheels and human power for their transportation always holds a bit of thrill for me, but it's rare that I spot a ride with as many parallels to my own.

Old bike serving for utility.

Check

Combo of rear panniers and a handlebar bag.

Check

Half clipless, half flat pedals.

Check

Mismatched wheels.

Check.

And while I have yet to actually mount one on my bike, I have collected a number of US flags that fell off vehicles, with the intent to test my prejudice that angst-ridden redneck drivers might be kinder to a bike displaying what they see as patriotism, despite most vehicles flying flags being in violation of the US Constitution's edicts on proper display. 

While I was eying the set up, its owner, Dan, arrived, and we chatted about bar middles versus bar ends (his current set up, although he was greatly intrigued by mine) and the graces of a not too perfect bike for transportation, including that it is more likely to still be there where you left it. I've been newly particularly aware of theft since an old, but pretty darn nice, headlight and mount was stolen while I joined the pre-run for that same event two weeks earlier, and then had its merely so-so replacement taken while I stopped for an errand the day before the race. Maybe Mt Tom is an acronym for My Torch Taken Off Me?

An empty mount

 is what remains of my stolen lights,

but it could be worse.

1st time: 

I could've lost my summer weight down sleeping bag off the other end of my locked bike.

2nd time: 

I could've lost the much nicer headlight stashed in the handlebar bag!

Yay, people on bikes are good! But is was a running event, and while I made an attempt at pretending I gained some wisdom with age and didn't run, my hike up the trail to clear course markers let me meet Sean as he waited to cheer runners in the second event at the crest of the first climb. I know it shouldn't seem special to meet a DCR forester on DCR property, but it was a neat to learn Sean fit that description and that we shared the parallel of being runners who weren't running to help further healing from injuries. Although, for variety, we determined that he was born almost a full month before I was!

Rest and recovery do work, and Sunday I joined two friends at the Quabbin Reservoir for what was nearly twice my previous longest run since being able to head back out on my feet. It felt good, and I also feel good about my continued ploy at playing older-and-wiser. I traded the last climb and descent for the shorter low route along the road, much of which I walked. If I keep this up, I might even learn to not crash my bike and break my neck by trying to do too much without stopping. Hope springs eternal!

This time credit to Matt 

for the selfie on Jared's phone.