Lake Minnewaska

As the wakened state brushed my somnolence aside, I could see the red LED light on my DVR summoning me from my horizontal slumber into the breach of the long journey to Lake Minnewaska. The darkness of 5:30 am carries with it a weight that tried to keep me in repose but the commitment was there and I was not about to disappoint Tripp or what is more important myself, because I would be lamenting it for days.  So it was my feet that were met by the rug next to my bed and I got to  quickly dressing in the quiet as not to disturb my wife who was in deep REM.  

I was undaunted by the prospect that we might have to ride in the rain because it was the experience that I was more excited about than what Mother Nature had to say.  Tripp was on his way and by 930 there were 15 of us about to embark on a ride that I would never forget.

It turns out that we had everything nature could throw at us. Fog, rain, sun, sleet (yes sleet) cold, wind and mud.  The latter gave us the most to laugh about because near rides end all of us were covered in mud drops head to foot and it all felt just fine.

In our group was none other than Captain Pacer, Alex Aguera, and a few familiar faces like Christine and Buzz who gave me a sense that I was not alone and for that I was temporarily grateful. As we started out, my apprehension was elevated as everyone had mountain bikes and mine was a racer. The thing about my bike was that my tires were so thin compared to the mountain bike and that spelled less traction and a much bumpier ride.  Alex gave me strict instruction: No left hand braking (front wheels) and sit way back on the saddle so that I could better absorb the shock my butt was in for. 

At first I was content to lay back and not move forward on the riders in front of me until I got comfortable with my own capabilities, and what came to mind is the visual metaphor I have so often heard in KSC where we talk about imaginary riders in front of us. I used to run road races that way. I never was a “front runner” at the beginning of a race because it was mentally debilitating to have runners pass you as the race wore on. Since we were not in any form of competition I got a feel for my own strength as I passed my new found friends along our trek. It was great to feel the indoors translated virtually seamlessly to the outdoors in terms of effort. Of course the concentration level outside takes on a new dimension as I navigated the terrain that was in spots nothing short of treacherous, especially with my thin tires. 

Picture taking was the order of the day and I thought only a wedding reception had more clicks.  When you are grouped together in strenuous exercise outside it seemed to bring instant association, which is really lacking in the CS.  I am not sure why that is, but maybe moving over ground makes us more cognizant of the well being of each other where we really don’t have that dynamic in the studio. It’s just not as dangerous inside as it is outside but is it more than that? I submit that I would love more camaraderie inside. 

Something happened on that mountain on Thursday. What it was specifically I will attempt to expound on but this morning I can sense a sweet residue of delight and a quiet understanding that the seed of a deeper kinship was embedded in our collective psyche,  that will grow if nurtured with the added context of more rides and a continued upkeep of casual but consistent contact between us all. 





What ensued during the next 3 1/2 hours with 15 people in various stages of relationships from acquaintance to significant others riding bikes, was the sense that we were in our own moving commune. Nothing that nature could throw at us would interfere with our ride and the effort which gave someone like me a sense of pride that as an outsider who felt apart from rather than a part of was quite simply a gift.


The people attracted to Tripp was all I really needed to feel instant comfort because they were all friendly and totally willing to check on my progress and fill my water bottle which I inadvertently had forgotten to fill. There was this sense of sharing, and it made me realize this wasn’t an episode of some survivor show. 







Riding indoors can be such a solitary experience but there’s not much chance of remaining an introvert when pedaling outdoors.  I have always been gregarious by nature and I must admit that my mouth was clamped shut in the environs I found myself in, because I have never rode in a group before and I never rode in a group of what in my mind were the ‘real deal’ when it came to cyclists.



I dispensed with that notion soon enough, because I know that even though life is an ‘inside job’ it also doesn’t mean that feelings are facts. To the contrary I discovered, feelings aren’t facts.  I didn’t so much fit in with Tripp and his friends, as did they welcome me with virtual open arms as if I belonged there. Quite a different feel from spinning indoors where we all keep pretty much to ourselves, outside of our own little cliques as I have alluded to on at least one occasion in my chronicles.



I felt some trepidation about the multitude of surfaces we were riding over. Between rock, leaves, mud and gravel,  and plenty of divots, on the trail I paid particular attention to taking the smoothest path possible, but I soon discovered that I would in short order,  get used to my bumpy ride, and learn to love the thrill of it as long as I adhered to my instructions of loose upper body and not letting my butt get too comfortable on that padded seat of mine.



There was definitely a collective consciousness that I felt quite palpably. We seemed to know when to navigate past each other, when to hold back and when I saw riders ahead I used my natural drive to catch up as if we were all attached with a spring like rope that stretched and pulled us taut together. I think this is the ‘link’ I was feeling because even though there were times I couldn’t see anyone in front of me and no one in back of me I knew that I was never really alone. I also feel that if I never see my friends again, that the memory of that day will stay indelibly etched in my spirit all the days of my life.



As my ride neared its conclusion, we went a long stretch through mud and water and there was something glorious about it, as if it were part of the souvenir of the day. We had but one steep hill that had to be climbed before we got back to the parking lot and as it winded back and forth my trachea was pulsing with pain and my heart was on fire, but in the lower gear somehow I managed and when  I slowed to my stop back at the start, God gave us all a gift of the most beautiful rainbow that I can remember. It made me feel like a kid again and seemed but a fitting end to a day that I cannot wait to repeat.