Mephitis

Tuesday was another cold and windy day up here in the frozen north, and I again waited until afternoon to head out for a ride. The temperature was probably somewhere near 50, but after the previous couple of days, I was starting to get a little tired of fighting the wind. As a result I spent some of my training time looking at the scenery and exploring side roads (which all seemed to be dead ends). I rode mostly the same route I'd ridden before, so although I wasn't pushing myself very hard, the hills and wind nonetheless demanded a considerable effort level most of the time. I stopped at one point to take a picture of a little skunk who was busy nosing around in the roadside ditch. It reminded me of a northshore training ride I'd done maybe six or seven years ago when we'd passed a skunk and another rider looked over at me and said, "Mephitis mephitis!" I was stunned. I soon discovered there was another biology major in our midst. She should be finishing her residency in emergency medicine about now.

I was on my way back, riding easily up a steep little pitch on Newport road when a anorexic looking triathlete passed me without even a wave. I thought it rather rude, and was still considering whether to chase him down as we approached an intersection. He was about thirty seconds ahead of me by then and I was still contemplating an easy spin back to the house when he made the left turn. At that point he made a crucial mistake. He looked back at me. Oh yeah? Well at that point the game was on. I watched him as he time-trialed down the little downhill, further opening the gap between us. I made the turn and clicked down a couple of cogs, gradually raising my pace. As I hit the downhill I finally deployed the 53 and dropped down from my perch on the brake levers. Every time this guy would hit an uphill he'd be out of the saddle and all over the bike going every way but forward. I'd roll up to within five or ten seconds and just hang there until the next downhill. This went on for a few miles as we got closer to town. For some reason I just couldn't bring myself to pass him, probably because I was having so much fun taunting him from behind. Finally he turned off to the right as I turned to the left and the game was over.

That night we went over to the Iowa gymnastics coaches' house and made seafood gumbo. Being in Iowa, however, the gumbo was without Okra and the crabs were some kind of long-legged things from the grocery store. It was pretty good anyway, and fortunately we had plenty of wine to go with it.

Today turned into a trip out to the Amish colonies followed by a marathon of shopping torture at an outlet mall. It's still windy as hell up here and by the time we got back I'd already decided I wasn't going out on the bike. Tomorrow will be the long drive back south.