Jean Manuel arrives just past two, "I'm always a little late, but just a few minutes." It's good to see him, and the first time we've ridden together in a year. We met one morning two years ago when I went to the forest outside of St Germain to meet a group of riders for an early morning ride. Some time passed and then a group came through and I decided to tag on the back, using friendliness and bad French to make friends.
That ride has led to others over the past two years and I now count Jean Manuel among my friends. Today we're heading out for a short jaunt retracing the first and last parts of my ride yesterday and adding a bit in the middle. We'll follow the route to Maule and then return via Les Alleuettes and St. Nom. Tomorrow we're meeting at 8:00 in Sartrouville for a longer club rallye, so today's goal is to loosen up the legs and put a few miles in.
Of course, my legs are so loose by the top of the climb out of L'Etang la Ville that I can hardly breathe. When I ask about Jean Manuel's family, it comes out as a croak. We back off and descend into the valley.
The trees are slowly dropping leaves now, bits of gold falling in the air. One of those things happening around us all of the time that we don't notice. Fascinating how riding a bike can sharpen the focus, my awareness of the beautiful mundane. Remember that crack in the road? That skunk carcass and it's smell? The little girl's smile as she rides her bike with ther dad? The steel, glass and speed of the automobile erase all of that, shrinking our world in the process to a list of places, appointments and itineraries. Our protection? The bicycle.
We crest the climb at Chavenay and avoid making the easy wrong turn at the Stad sign. Many cars are on the road today, yet only one seems to be upset that we are, beeping as it passes. Young kids. They still give us an entire lane. Vive la difference! In the US, they'd try to put us in the ditch.
The weather is cool, a high of 18 today. With the mild climate of northern France, the weather seems to intersect with Iowa's twice a year, in spring and fall.
We're climbing out of Maule to Bazemont and Les Alleuettes now. I feel good, the legs are fully back and as we climb I feel I could accelerate if I wanted to; a good feeling to know there is something in the tank. "I'm just getting my base fitness back again," I explain to Jean Manuel. The racing season took so much out of me that I actually felt out of shape a month ago. Riding longer at lower intensities seems to have helped. Now I feel the bike leap forward, as if it has some life of its own.
In Les Alleuettes we see markings for tomorrow's ride: S's in white with arrows pointing the way. Nevertheless, we are bound to refer to our maps and stop to ask an older couple for directions once we are on the road to St Nom. We descend a narrow road and suddenly we're in fields with views of the valley again. St Nom's church is in the distance and we return to yesterday's route in the forest.
1:51, 31 miles, 1260 ft
That ride has led to others over the past two years and I now count Jean Manuel among my friends. Today we're heading out for a short jaunt retracing the first and last parts of my ride yesterday and adding a bit in the middle. We'll follow the route to Maule and then return via Les Alleuettes and St. Nom. Tomorrow we're meeting at 8:00 in Sartrouville for a longer club rallye, so today's goal is to loosen up the legs and put a few miles in.
Of course, my legs are so loose by the top of the climb out of L'Etang la Ville that I can hardly breathe. When I ask about Jean Manuel's family, it comes out as a croak. We back off and descend into the valley.
The trees are slowly dropping leaves now, bits of gold falling in the air. One of those things happening around us all of the time that we don't notice. Fascinating how riding a bike can sharpen the focus, my awareness of the beautiful mundane. Remember that crack in the road? That skunk carcass and it's smell? The little girl's smile as she rides her bike with ther dad? The steel, glass and speed of the automobile erase all of that, shrinking our world in the process to a list of places, appointments and itineraries. Our protection? The bicycle.
We crest the climb at Chavenay and avoid making the easy wrong turn at the Stad sign. Many cars are on the road today, yet only one seems to be upset that we are, beeping as it passes. Young kids. They still give us an entire lane. Vive la difference! In the US, they'd try to put us in the ditch.
The weather is cool, a high of 18 today. With the mild climate of northern France, the weather seems to intersect with Iowa's twice a year, in spring and fall.
We're climbing out of Maule to Bazemont and Les Alleuettes now. I feel good, the legs are fully back and as we climb I feel I could accelerate if I wanted to; a good feeling to know there is something in the tank. "I'm just getting my base fitness back again," I explain to Jean Manuel. The racing season took so much out of me that I actually felt out of shape a month ago. Riding longer at lower intensities seems to have helped. Now I feel the bike leap forward, as if it has some life of its own.
In Les Alleuettes we see markings for tomorrow's ride: S's in white with arrows pointing the way. Nevertheless, we are bound to refer to our maps and stop to ask an older couple for directions once we are on the road to St Nom. We descend a narrow road and suddenly we're in fields with views of the valley again. St Nom's church is in the distance and we return to yesterday's route in the forest.1:51, 31 miles, 1260 ft
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