Back in my original racing days, I would arrive at events, especially the first one of the season, factoring in a half hour to walk from parking to registration. No, mountain bike racing was never so popular that the two were far apart, but part of my role for which companies gave me bikes was to talk with people, be friendly. This was interesting for a fellow who likes people generally, but was raised in a rather insular immediate family and was never automatically comfortable initiating a conversation. That I was managing to race quickly and that inspired people to approach me was a nifty perk of the job.
Past those years as "that guy" at races, I still have most of my social interactions in motion, either on a bike or running on my feet. Fortunately, I find a good number of good people who like these sports, but during my recent stint of less ability to move easily, I was also seeing a lot less of my friends. Yes, another perk of a body that can move is that it can connect with people other than on car rides to medical appointments, so a week ago I was able to joint the practice run at Mt Tom before next weekend's race there. I am trying to pretend I've learned moderation, so I joined the smaller group for the shorter 10k course loop.
It wasn't a bad choice at all. Despite being my third and longest recent run, I finished contemplating if I could run further, which is much better than wishing I'd done less. Also, before the big group circle separated, we gave introductions, and I briefly thought "Alix" might be the person I met a year earlier at a friend's birthday gathering, but then she identified Greenfield as her town, while the party's Alix had rolled out with the crew from Conway. Always trust your first guess. Don't trust your assumptions of people's geography. She was the same Alix, joined the 25k group, and I may get to now count a friend-of-a-friend as a friend.
For my connection to Conway, I had to wait another weekend. Bonified resident and friend Matt Gaspar remembered to give the scoop for his annual Conwegian Nightmare ride to my anti-social media self, so Friday afternoon I packed my minimalist camping kit of a sleeping bag and Tyvek ground cloth into a small backpack and rode up the hill to sleep a half hour away from the 8:45AM meet up. As a bonus, I enjoyed an evening visit with my friend Pete and delivered the book Land of White Death about a polar exploration from Siberia.
My campsite
where I left a negative bump next to a log
As another bonus, I watched Matt's friends ride their mountain bikes really well. I was surprised to receive props from a number of people for what I was riding (merely satisfactorily, not well, in my opinion, as my arm recovers) on a rigid bike with my
Carver fork. For perspective, one of the highlights of what I rode was a fifteen foot high steep rock face; many of Matt's friends were using that as their downslope landing after clearing a ten foot gap from a higher ledge. Yup, the game has been raised, and happily, I don't feel a
need to play at that level.
A lot of riders in the woods,
including a number of exceptionally skilled ones
Credit to Jason for the video
and big credit to the riders jumping the gap!
But even more socializing, after departing the group early with my friend Jason (at whose birthday I'd met Alix, because none of my social network could be all that large), I cruised down the hill to arrive at the Sunderland Chestnut Festival at precisely the same time as friends Adele, Ben, Josh, Leigh, and Lizzy who'd ridden up from Northampton. To be fair, I have to give some credit for the perfect timing to the quickturn-around I made earlier to collect an ear of corn from the side of the road, win, win!
But that was merely half the weekend. After last Sunday's success with the mellow
Beast Coast run at Mt Tom, I decided to try rejoining some of the quick kids for a romp on the range. Tim is a stalwart of organizing these forays on the Holyoke Range, and as bonus is a swell personality with whom to travel miles on foot. It was good to see him again, and as one more bonus, my friend Jake from past UMass campus walks (I wasn't exaggerating about my meeting in motion) joined us as well to double my reconnects.
Credit to Jake for the selfie
with Tim's phone
My social connections still weren't done! One perk of Tim's run organizing is that he likes to mix up the start location to sample different sections of the range. Of course, when I finally felt ready to join, he'd picked the point furthest from my house, but my route there on Pearl Street included two wins. I revisted the section closed-to-cars-for-bridge-construction Matt and I had used this summer (still fenced dirt, but trench hopping no longer required), and even before that, I snagged a quite nice twenty-five year old mountain bike from a free pile of three, ghost rode it a half mile down the road, and stashed it over the embankment of an empty lot to collect later!
The forecast included a rain prediction, so I'd ridden my singlespeed, which has more fender protection, but less front hub lashed to the rack for piggybacking found bikes. So, after run and a few other errands, but still zero rain, I was back home and pulled up the current radar, which showed an hour gap before the first sprinkles arrived, so I grabbed my tow-bike-not-truck and bustled back to collect my stash.
It's labeled as a 19.5" medium
which seems like a, well, GIANT medium.
On my return trip, a couple miles from home, a car pulled alongside and matched my pace. Given past interactions with some (happily a distinct minority) drivers, I was immediately on guard, and even when it turned out to be another running friend (and long ago mountain biking competitor) Tim, I later reflected that my dander was still slightly elevated for the first minute of our interactions until be both pulled over and enjoyed a good chat. Lesson: if in doubt, maybe just pull over immediately. I am still working on that merit badge.
Even with the stop, I arrived home dry, just as the first mist of rain started. Win, win, win, win, win!
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