Before I take off on every
ride, I put the hands together and say a little prayer: May I have no contact
or collisions with any animal, vehicle, or human on the ride. May I ride safely
the entire ride. May I be free of mechanicals like flat tires or spoke breaks.
Then, I take off.
Usually it works, I come back
incident free. Occasionally, it doesn’t. Prayer or no prayer, I’ve still gotten
an occasional flat or much worse, a spoke break. Or I hit a squirrel and either
(A) kill the squirrel and crash, or (B) kill the squirrel and manage to stay on
the bike.
I hit a squirrel on my last
ride while riding about 20 mph on a flat. It happened in about half a second,
and barely slowed me down. This sprinting critter flashed from my left and I
rolled over him in an instant with both tires as I looked down to see a lot of
fur. I actually thought I’d run over a rabbit, since there are cottontails and
jackrabbits along the path. I didn’t stop, just kept pedaling. I knew I’d surely
just killed or maimed a wild creature that had just turned a mad dash to get
across across the bike trail into a suicide.
On the ride back, I saw that
it was a gray squirrel that I’d hit and he had been killed instantly at the
spot on the trail where he’d been run over by two fast moving bike tires. I was
glad that the little guy didn’t suffer, he was done in an instant. And I was really glad the hit didn’t make me crash.
Springtime is the rutting
season for the myriad squirrels that cavort along the bike path. And in their panicky
frenzy to get some, they become unpredictable darting maniacs that every rider
on the trail has seen at some point. I hiss like I’m a snake at ones I see
along the trail ahead of me, when they look like they’re thinking about a quick
sprint across the trail, in front of the bike. It usually does the trick. I’ve
seen other riders sit up and clap their hands to convince the little rascals to
flee in the opposite direction.
Before I hit the squirrel, I
had a really close call several miles earlier with another one. It was about
four or so miles into the ride when a squirrel darted toward my front tire from
my right. I just braced for a hit. But he must have stopped about a micron from
colliding with the tire and spokes because there was no contact.
These little guys can turn on
a dime. One time I followed a couple of riders and saw a squirrel dart across
the path in front of them and, upon seeing the shoulder to shoulder riders
coming at him, he froze at just the right time as both bikes blew past him on either
side. He jumped straight up then scurried in a panic to the other side of the
trail as I rode by. I couldn’t believe he didn’t get hit!
A few years ago, I crashed
when BUMP, a squirrel was suddenly hit by my front tire on a curving descent of
the trail. The bike was leaning to the left on the curved descent when hit tore
the handlebars out of my hands, and squirted the front wheel sideways. The bike
quickly dropped under me and clattered onto its left side while I was suddenly airborne,
arms extended. I landed sideways on my bare left forearm, which skidded me to a
stop on the pavement. I got pretty nasty road rash on my arm, but was otherwise
OK. The squirrel, which I’m sure didn’t survive, was nowhere to be seen.
I’ve ruined wheel sets twice in
attempts to avoid hitting squirrels by inadvertently shoving the heel of my
cleat into my rear spokes, knocking the wheel out of round. The first time, the
rear wheel was so bent out of round I had to carry the bike to a nearby park
and arrange for a ride home. The second time, I was able to ride home on a
slightly out of round tire, but after it was trued incorrectly at the bike
shop, the battered spoke eventually snapped on another ride. Not fun!
So these suicide squirrels always
hold the potential for mayhem. Before this last incident, I’d had a crisp pace
and felt good. But after crushing the pretty little bushy tailed critter, and
turning him into road kill for some carrion-eating buzzards in the area, I lost
the fire to pedal hard for the remaining 33 miles of the ride.
I knew though, that I had to
count my blessings. Hey, the little guy didn’t suffer. I didn’t crash. And I
didn’t destroy my wheel set. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. And it was
over.
I wondered, how I could have
thought I hit a rabbit? Hell, if I’d
hit a rabbit, it would have been a smash-up. A lot worse.
Other than squirrels and
rabbits, I also regularly see deer and wild turkeys wander across the trail.
I’m not too worried about hitting a deer. They’re fleet and very skittish. A
wild turkey hit also seems a remote possibility. Wild turkeys along the trail
are pretty tame, and don’t seem in any hurry when they’re taking up real estate
in the bike path and you’re flying toward them on a bike. I’ve seen them sprint
and even fly at the last second to get out of the way. I’d never want to hit
one, though. It would be an ugly crash and may just injure them badly rather
than kill them. Not to mention the potential injuries and mechanical damage
from making you crash.
But hey, critter hits are the
potential price of riding through a wilderness area. These creatures live here
in the wilds, and we cyclists are just annoying missiles flying through their
territory. So it’s always a bit of good fortune when rides on this great trail
don’t include collisions with any of them – or other riders for that matter!
Leg power comes on strong
I just had a euphoric ride
that felt like a harmonic convergence of great conditions. It was warm and
sunny, but the air stayed at a cool and refreshing temp throughout. There was
no wind, a rarity. I kept well hydrated. And the legs felt extra strong.
I finished my 51-mile ride,
which includes about 1,200 feet of climbing, at an 18 mph average. I hadn’t
turned in a ride that fast since my birthday six months ago to the day. That
day I rode an 18.8 mph average and about five minutes faster. But hell, I’m more
than happy whenever I ever break the 18 mph average plateau. For me, it’s hard
to do, doesn’t happen often.
I wondered why my legs felt
so strong. I just started doing yoga classes again earlier in the week, and had
gotten in some great stretches. I’d been doing yoga and pilates regularly for
five years, until the end of November, when my long time teacher ended her
classes. The more I thought about it, I think the yoga stretching released a
lot of tension in my leg muscles and gave them some spring. Maybe yes, maybe no.
Future rides will tell.
Til next time, remember to
strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side
down, ride safely and have a blast.
-- Mark Eric Larson
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