Saturday, October 28, 2006

Dumb Art on Oaks

I have to name-check my brother today, because he used the f-word in a post that also included a reference to linguistic back-formation (not, as some would think, the process by which linguists get spines).

It's O.K., because I was thinking of him today anyhow, and particularly I was thinking of how I was going to mention him in today's post.

See, he's seen all this stuff before. He's been--with me, and with his lovely bride--to the Arastradero Open Space Preserve, up Arastradero Road from our sleepy little hometown. We hiked all over. He knows how those hills smell, how you can just about taste the wild fennel in the air down by the water, how the grasses and the oak and the eucalyptus mix on a warm wind and smell like home, like summer.

But he wasn't there today. Not because he's some young punk slacker, mind you--no, he's got something going on with a baby, and transcontinental flights, and three-wheeled strollers, and a dog, and for whatever reason he missed it.

By "it," of course, I mean it: the last day of the season. Way back in April, I nominated the first day of Daylight Savings as the start of the bicycling season. That would make today, the last day of Daylight Savings, the day that I can hang up my shorts, count my new T-shirts, rub my sore calves, and savor the memories of a well-traveled season. I rode a century. I rode several organized rides, major and minor. I rode places I'd never taken a bike (or a car) before; I rode Northern California and Southern California. I rode by night and by day, after the sun set and before it came up. I had flats; I replaced a derailleur cable; I got new riding flip-flops. All in all, a fine season.

And, since it was the last day of the season, I did take advantage of some really spotless warm October weather to swallow up my last few hills before I load the bike on the back of the car tomorrow and head south for Long Beach. Will I keep riding in the next few months? Absolutely. But I'm not in training for any particular ordeals, as I was last April when I was already mapping the buildup to August's Cool Breeze Century.

And yeah, bro, you can come ride Arastradero with me any time you like. As you can see, we've kept a space open for you.

1 comment:

Papa Bradstein said...

You, sir, are an ass for such taunting. But I will eventually have to take you up on your offer to go riding up there. I've ridden around there once or twice and it's a nice place to spin around.