I was doing a mega-bike ride yesterday, an epic event I do several times a week and have named “Le Tour de Garage.” The ride is a wintertime athletic invention of mine and it is a kind of homage to a similar, admittedly better-known sporting spectacle held each summer in France.
To do Le Tour de Garage, I mount my bicycle on a stationary trainer, indoors, where I am sheltered from the Pacific Northwest’s winter rain. While the world-class athletes who compete in the event in France do have to contend with rain and grueling routes that cross over mountain passes in the Alps and Pyrenees, the ride I do in my garage is challenging in its own right:
Le Tour de Garage can be utterly, oppressively BORING. I am not cheered-on by hoards of European cycling fans, and I do not have amazing scenery to inspire me. Rather, I ride alone, in a dark-ish room, with only my workbench as my “view.”
Music on my iPod is my godsend when I’m riding Le Tour de Garage. For yesterday’s one hour ride I began by listening to Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” album, and later, to the “Bat Out of Hell” album by Meatloaf. If you haven’t done so lately, you really, absolutely, must go back and revisit the song “All Revved Up With No Place To Go.”
The workout routine I do keeps me fit, so that, when I head to the mountains, I can hike, snowshoe, or climb with confidence, safety, and efficiency. I can enjoy the exploration of terrain that others might find difficult.
Last Sunday several friends and I did a snowshoe trip to Mazama Ridge on Mt. Rainier. It was a glorious day: Sunny, with mild temperatures, and views stretching from here, to way beyond forever. New snow had fallen earlier in the week and we were giddy as we moved across the pristine, untracked canvas of white.
We were four grown men -- at 59 I was the junior member of our group -- but thankfully we are all active and blessed with good health, and we were playing outside on an amazing day...kinda like teenagers.
We Were All Revved Up with Someplace To Go.
