Fin de la saison?

   Because I planned to throw a little more French at you, I felt that I should add an appropriate title, in this case translated as "End of the season?" In an attempt to remove some of the guilt of Thanksgiving indulgence the last couple of days, and also take advantage of this unbelievably mild weather, Sue and I decided to do one big "final" ride into Philadelphia (that's not Rome or Athens in the picture above) this afternoon. The weather forecast predicts a sharp drop in temperature next week, so I don't anticipate getting many more breaks like we have had the last couple days.
   In the last blog entry I talked about my transformation into a puncheur, one who excels at short, steep climbs. However, during this ride I was acting more of the rouleur, a rider who can go a long period of time over level terrain at a consistently high effort. These are the guys who drive the peleton, keeping the pace high while the team leaders tuck in safely behind, saving energy. Not that Sue rides at a pedestrian pace, but I get a far better workout when I am riding at the front, and it does help her to not have to fight the wind the whole way.
   We started at Betzwood Park and rode the Schuylkill River Trail into the city. Saturdays are a bit annoying with so many people on the trail to weave around (Do you have to walk three across?), but if you give enough warning, it's not too bad. Sue usually hates the trail detour through the hilly Manayunk area, not to mention the traffic in the town's tight streets, but the Christmas decorations, which are definitely not a normal sight during our bike rides, helped to ease her pain!
   What really annoys me are the poseurs out for one last hurrah on the roads with their expensive looking clothes and equipment, bobbing and weaving all over the place on the trail or road. Understand that I am always glad to see anyone out on a bicycle instead of sitting around on the couch watching TV, but I don't like being passed by people of obvious lesser ability, particularly when they aren't doing so safely. Believe me, there are plenty of club riders who blow by me and make me feel like I'm going backwards, but they usually give a quick "On your left" or "Passing" - I know that I can't hang with them, and I've (slowly) come to accept that, but at least they're courteous! 
   I also know that sometimes it is a matter of a cyclist riding a much shorter distance than I have and that they just have more left in the tank, and I have no problem with that. However, the guys who sprint by Sue and me, and then run out of gas a hundred yards or so in front of us, drive me crazy. It never fails that when we reel these bozos back in, there will be a jogger, a parent riding along with their child or someone walking a dog coming the other way, so that we have to slow as we pass them back, completely ruining our pacing. 
   One particular poseur magnifiques, all decked out in his pro cycling kit, cut between us at a bad intersection in Manayunk, causing Sue to come to an abrupt stop, made worse by the perilous clipless pedal exit/entrance in traffic. He passed me when I slowed to look back to make sure she was still safely following, and she was, with plenty of head shaking and soft cursing. Moments later we were passing him on a slight incline, and we struggled to keep our composure while (somewhat) politely advising him to ride less agressively. My wife and I would rather arrive home in one piece after our workouts!
   Sue has been swimming regularly in the mornings before work, since it gets dark earlier and doesn't leave her with time to ride afterwards. She was a competitive swimmer and is considering trying some triathlons of the shorter, sprint variety next year. Although no one would accuse her of being a gifted runner (she actually HATES to do it), she should be able to make up for it with her strength in the other two disciplines. She has been reading a lot about "tri" training and has a schedule all planned out for the spring.

   Carrick and I had planned to do a ride into Philadelphia last week, although not the 45-miler that Sue and I regularly take on. Unfortunately he has had a bad cold, so I promised we'd try to squeeze it in when he recovers. I purchased some cyclocross tires for him to put on an extra set of wheels I had in the shop, and we'll slap those on his bike to ride the Wissahickon Trail. Our route will be just over twenty miles long and will start just west of Chestnut Hill. We'll ride on the crushed stone surface of Forbidden Drive, so named because in the 1920s cars were banned from it, down through the ravine of Wissahickon Creek. The scenery is beautiful, and the park includes many interesting old homes owned by notable locals, and the famous Valley Green Inn.

   We'll connect with Fairmount Park at Wissahickon Falls to follow part of the route Sue and I ride along Kelly Drive and around the Philadelphia Art Museum. After riding up the new trail extension into the city, we'll loop back and return via West River Drive to cross back over the Schuylkill at Falls Bridge. I know Carrick won't enjoy riding up the ravine quite as much, but it isn't a difficult grade. I'm hoping to have something interesting to write about from that trip, but keeping in mind the ride includes my sometimes wreckless son, maybe no news would be good news!