26 Miles

In 26 miles, I have learned some things about myself. Two things, to be exact.

The first is that I have a large and somewhat irrational fear of wooden bridges. I had to cross two of them on my ride. The first was the worst. It’s a metal and concrete bridge for the most part, but the surface that you ride across is wooden planks. They rattle and shake and bounce like they’re only millimeters from stripping themselves free of their bolts and sending me plunging into the abyss. Uhg. *shudder* The second bridge is much better, as it’s much more stable. The third bridge that I have to cross is fine; it’s concrete and steel through and through. It’s not just riding across such bridges that bothers me either. There’s one bridge that partially spans the lake that has been there since the 1800′s. I’ve only ever walked on it, and I couldn’t make it all the way out to the end. I don’t know what the matter is. I love heights and I love water. Maybe I’ll get over it. Hopefully.

The second is this: I seem to have amnesia when it comes to going downhill. I forget that I’ve done it. So then when I’m riding back the way I came, I find myself thinking Bloody hell….where did all of these hills come from?

Actually, I lied. I learned three things on my ride. I learned that I can ride roughly 26 miles in 2.5 hours. And that includes picture time. Ever since I got my digital camera, I’ve taken so many more pictures than I ever did with my old camera. Wonder what’s up with that.

On the Cold and Duct Tape

This morning, I got up at my usual cheery time of six ‘o clock and proceeded to begin my day. When I went to the bathroom, I noticed that the doors to our “suit” were closed. In my dorm, two rooms share one bathroom.  This set up is hidden behind a set of shutter-doors directly off of the hallway.  Through the doors there is a little vestibule and three more doors, two of which lead to bedrooms, one to the bath. Ours is roughly the same.  We have three singles and a double at the very end of the hall.   This morning our doors were closed, which is not wholly unusual. So I proceeded to get dressed and prepare for my bike ride. At 7 it was finally light enough to ride.  I locked my door and left. At least, I tried to. I pushed on one of our doors, expecting it to open easily.  It didn’t.  The other door went with it, neither of them opening. Thinking that perhaps they were a tight fit and therefore stuck together, I shoved a bit harder. No luck. I didn’t want to damage them, so I stood there a second and thought. Then an idea came.  I peered out through the slats and, lo and behold, someone had been so kind as to duct tape our doorknobs together. Seeing this, I gave a sharp shove on one door with my foot while holding onto the other and thus was able to go about my morning the rest. I don’t mind that they duct taped our doors, actually. It was amusing and unexpected. But I was finally able to go on my ride. I had decided that since the computer was telling me it was only 52 outside, I had best wear a t-shirt under a long sleeve t-shirt. That way I’d be warmer and could shed a layer if need be. Good grief. I should have had on long pants (as opposed to my shorts) and gloves as well. By riding my bike I was creating a breeze and it was bloody cold.  My legs weren’t quite so bad, since they were doing all the work and therefore staying somewhat warm.  However, my poor hands were extremely cold. Since it’s been colder in the mornings, I think I’m switching to riding in the afternoon when it might be a tad warmer. Then I got out to the campground by the lake and what to my wondering eyes should appear? Not one, not two, but three pretty little deer. So I stopped, slowly got off my bike, slowly got out my camera, slowly sat down, and waited. They came fairly close. However I didn’t get very good pictures because they got spooked shortly thereafter, but at least I did get some. I stepped it off afterwards, and I determined that they had been about thirty-two proper roll steps away, or about sixty feet. It took about five minutes for it all, and in that amount of time I had warmed up considerably, since I had been sitting in the sun. Then I continued my ride on around the lake, stopping to take many pictures of my feathered friends and of the lake itself.

Once I returned, I ate breakfast with three other girls. That was interesting. In the course of our conversation, Jenna asked if I had had a class this morning, so I told her about my ride, and she made the comment that she wouldn’t have the motivation to do that. To which I replied, “I think it’s less motivation, more insanity.”

The Lake

I’ve been honked at.  Not the beep beep of a car horn.   An actual hwooooonk.  I was riding back from the lake when I heard someone yell, then there was this obnoxious hwoooonk, and an SUV passed me.  A guy was hanging out the window with a duck call.  So I’ve been honked at today. 

 

Now, had it been an actual duck that honked at me, it wouldn’t seem so out of the ordinary.  I saw a lot of honking fowl this morning.  I got up at 7, grabbed my bike pack and helmet, and went for a nice long bike ride.  I love riding my bike.  It gives me a feeling of power and freedom.  And absolute joy.  I love the physical exertion, the wind in my face, the thrill of coasting down a large hill.  Here where I live, we have a wonderful paved trail that leads out to the lake. It’s long and scenic.  What more could you ask for?  At 7 in the morning, it’s cold.  I almost turned back for a long-sleeve shirt, but I’m glad I didn’t.  By the time I returned to my dorm at 9:30, the sun had warmed the earth quite nicely.  I was sweating.  But on the ride down, I was so cold that I had goose bumps.  The trail starts out right by my college and is fairly flat.  My favorite hill is just about a mile into the ride.  Well, it’s my favorite hill on the ride down.  It’s long and at a gentle slope.  Just enough of a downhill ride that there are signs that say “SLOW  20MPH”.  My question:  I don’t have a speedometer.  How am I supposed to know how fast I’m going?  Oh well.  I just go slow enough that if I hit a bump I’ll not fly too far.  That’s on the way down.  On the way back, I affectionately call it Hell Hill.  Well, maybe it’s not that bad, but I followed a jogger on the way up it, and I never gained on her.  Once you pass that hill, there are a couple of other minor hills, then you cross the highway and are in lake territory.  I almost immediately stopped to take pictures at a small pond.  Then I rode on a little farther until I came to a bend in the road.  More pictures.  I was on and off my bike so many times in that area near the lake.  And I spent nearly 45 minutes taking pictures of waterfowl.  Not being an avid bird watcher, I think they’re pelicans, but I’m not sure.  But they’re cute and I had fun taking many pictures of them.

And there were a lot of fishers on the lake for it being a Sunday morning. 

 

So that was my adventure for the morning.  I’m hoping to go back Tuesday and explore more of the trails.  So there may be a sequel to this post, who knows.  Enjoy the photos and forgive the incoherentness in my writing.

Rain Storm

We had a storm roll through here last night, and by 7:30 this morning we’d gotten 4 and 2/10ths inches of rain. And that’s enough to turn our side yard into a pond/creek. I didn’t get pictures until 10, and by then it had gone down a considerable bit. But it’s still pretty high and the pictures don’t lose anything by it.

Apple Tree Writings

‘Tis a gorgeous day out, don’t know if you’d noticed. It’s warm, but there’s a deliciously cool breeze running over all the world. It whips the corn about so that it sounds like a faint echo of the ocean. The apple tree rustles delightfully as though it were as glad as I am to be alive, even if it has no apples to bear. The cold snap we had a while back saw to that. Pardon me, I lied. There is one little round, green apple hanging from a branch not far from where I perch. It probably won’t amount to much, but it does have such nice potential.

Summertime is my favorite time. There’s so much color and life to be found in the world. While riding my bike this morning, I caught the most brilliant flash of blue out of the corner of my eye. There, winging its way across the field, was a pretty little blue bird. It may well have been a Jay (I couldn’t see much in the way of markings at that distance), but I would rather think of it as a blue bird. It’s more poetical and fit the morning better.

You know, as much as I detest the cold and am one for the warm sunshine I’m enjoying my sit in the shade. Even if this tree branch is getting a bit hard, and even if I do keep having to flick spiders off of me. I’ve not been here but twenty minutes and that’s the third I’ve sent careening to the ground. I do like spiders, but they’ve a nasty habit of dropping on me from nowhere and startling me, such that my first, last, and only reaction is to swat them into next Tuesday. “Act in haste, repent at leisure”. Sigh.

Storms

Iowa in storm season. It’s beautiful!

A Day to Serve

Four members of the Two Rivers Marketing Group, Des Moines, IA, and their pilot were identified as the victims of a night plane crash in LaPorte County, IN, on Nov. 13 [2006, ed. note].Killed in the crash were:

* Tom Dunphy, 41, of Clive, IA, president of Two Rivers and one of the company’s founders and owners six years ago. He is survived by a wife and three sons.

* Leslie O’Bannon, 27, was an account executive who had been with the agency for four years. She lived in Des Moines with her husband and daughter.

* Eric Jacobs, 31, was the information technology leader with Two Rivers and had worked there four years. He lived in Ankeny, IA, and is survived by a wife and four sons.

* Josh Trainor, 23, was an information technology specialist and had been with the company for two years. He lived in Des Moines and is survived by his fiance.

Taken from

My cousin works for Two Rivers Marketing. While we are not particularly close, we happened to be riding in the same vehicle on the way to my Grandparent’s 50th wedding anniversary on September 22, 2006. In the dialogue between his parents and himself, he talked a lot about his coworkers, about his boss. So when my aunt e-mailed me about the crash, it hit harder than it might have otherwise. I had never met anyone from his company, yet I felt like I knew them the tiniest bit, and to lose them was something of a shock.

Central College has a goal to build community and become a more united body. For the second year running, we have organized a massive service day as part of an effort to reach our goal. Over 70 projects were offered, and when I saw Leslie and John O’Bannon’s house on the list, I didn’t hesitate to sign up. Not only would I be serving, but I would be serving someone with whom I had the faintest of connections, making it all the more worthwhile.

So today we loaded up two vans and two personal vehicles and made the hour trek into West Des Moines. I hadn’t the faintest idea of what the day would entail, just that I was committed to working from 9 this morning until 4 this afternoon. Now, back in my dorm, I am exhausted. Mr. O’Bannon has completely gutted the house and cut down many of the trees in the back yard (I would be most interested to see what it looks like when he’s finished). I helped break apart a cement wall for a bit before being recruited to rake up some wood chips from a flower bed. Most of the rest of the day was spent raking up sticks and leaves and tossing tree bits into the chipper. And cleaning bricks (read: removing the mortar). Oi. What a task. He had removed the bricks and foundation from a corner of the house so as to raise the foundation and there were now a large pile of bricks in need of cleaning. The nail puller end of a hammer soon became my best friend as I endeavored to chip away at the mortar. It wasn’t too bad, aside from all the dust that managed to get in my eyes and up my nose. And the fact that I spent so long at it that my hands cramped up. Overall, it was a rather pleasant day. I got burnt and my forearms and hands are in pain, but it’s all in the name of service. I’d do it again tomorrow if I had the chance.

Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress. – James 1:27

They should be rich in good works and generous to those in need, always being ready to share with others. – 1 Timothy 6:18