Sunday's Bikeabout

The Australians have their walkabouts. Runners' World encourges a runabout. In keeping with both, Butch and I took a bikeabout Sunday. The next several blog entries are scenes from the slow and relatively easy (this IS the hilly Shenandoah Valley after all) bike ride.

After a weekend of way too much partying (camping with the girls and a 5K in 91 degree heat on Saturday night), I had slept about 9 1/2 to 10 hours Saturday night and awakened in a very groggy state Sunday morning. But I was too agitated to just sit at home. So Butch and I took off on a bike ride, with the idea that we'd quit whenver I got tired -- and we both figured 5 miles would be about all we'd get in. I grabbed my camera and cell phone, some water and off we went.
Let me backtrack to Friday and Saturday. A t-storm at 5 a.m. abruptly forced my grandkids and me out of our cozy sleeping bags and tent. Cleaning up the soggy mess after I got home Saturday night ate up time allotted for a nap. Even so I left at 3:30 p.m. for a race in Fredericksburg (number 29).

At race start, it was 91 degrees according to the timing company. Another t-storm threatened. The Fredericksburg Christian Health Center fundraiser was to raise money for the organization, which provides medical care for both insured and uninsured. Written race instructions warned that the race would abruptly end once lightening hit. Anyone finishing before that time would be counted as a finisher and their race times recorded. Everyone else was to head for cover.

The weather held. But the humidity was so high I was soaked in sweat before I even crossed the starting line. Then 27 minutes and 42 seconds later I crossed the finish line (just under 9 minute mile pace). Other racers complained about their slow times. Exhausted before the race, I was completely done as Butch and I headed out of town -- the bank marquee still registering 88 degrees.

And so it was that I slept long and hard Saturday, and still felt sluggish at 2:30 Sunday afternoon when I hopped on my bike. But somewhere along the shade of Plains Mill Road, with the river meandering alongside, my old bones revived. We reached the tee, took a left across a bridge, and kept on going. Three hours and 25 miles later, I was back home making supper. Well. . .supper was simmering on the stove, while I sat with my feet resting atop my exercise ball and read.

Enjoy the trip as depicted in the next several entries.