You know you have a pal when she makes room in her day between babysitters/kids, errands, and grading papers to ride with you up treacherous terrain. Such is my friend, Amanda.

(Gosh, I look goofy!!)
Well, she is a hill-machine!! She blew up Rt. 213. Cars could barely keep up. 
And on the way back, the sky opened up to show the beauty of a crisp Oregon day. Glorious. (rides #9 & 10).
Tomorrow I want to do a flat 50, if anyone wants to come along. On Friday, early in the morning, I’ll drive to Mosier and do a stunning ride along the Columbia, through The Dalles, up into the rolling wheat fields and back, (against the force of the wind…). Y’all come!

Before I went out to Estacada to start a lovely ride, I had a lovely time riding with Cheryl on her route to work. (see photo).

About 2 minutes later, I ran into Mat Coffey, on his way to work. What fun to live in such a small city.

So, the ride from Estacada along the Clackamas River is one of the only rides I know that feels as though you’re riding downhill both ways. Honest. This is my fourth time riding it, and all 4 have started out soggy. Lots of mist. OK, well, there are a couple of hills, at both ends of the ride (it’s an out-and-back.) The one closest to Estacada is about 2-3 miles long, and just a slog, but otherwise, it feels like downhill all the way, baby. And then, there’s the river the whole way. Then, there are osprey and eagles. Occasionally there are people cheering you on. Living in Oregon we’re thick in beauty.

Around mile 17 the clouds lifted, and the river sizzled. Of course, the clouds were still there when I turned around at Ripplebrook ranger station, and that made for a cool ride back, especially with a headwind. But I had my tunes, my speakers for my iPod. The Police (oh, take me back to the 80s!) helped me up the 8%-grade hill at the end.

It was an ideal ride. I’d highly recommend it. Onward…

This morning the air could be Kenyan, hazy, the promise of hot. It could be Kenya outside, except the air has that slight sparkle of ocean coolness and no scent of wet cardboard or damp wood smoke. The air showed me that I’m not completely back, that still I am between continents.

…Except I had a latte…

…Except I had two breakfasts and went to an Apple Store to fix an iPod.

Yesterday I rode the third ride of the week, up the cemetery from the Sellwood Bridge to Burlingame, over to Terwilliger down to Duniway track and back up again. Zooming down the hills, I felt for the first time in a long time really connected to my bike, like it was part of my body. All too often the handlebars feel like something else alive; the pedals are their own thing. Yesterday they came together, trusted me, and I them.

Today I’ll head up to Skyline, tomorrow the world.

It was a gorgeous day for the first ride of 50, and my friend and fellow dangerous writer, Nicole, came along. We rode along Marine Drive and talked writing and MFA programs and families. Surprisingly few people were on the path, but many osprey above. It was wonderful to be using my body after 3 weeks of sloth. Thanks, Nicole, for a wonderful start.

https://kategraywrites.com/339-2/

The trip to Kenya and Tanzania was a dream come true. Well, actually, my expectations going into the trip were low because I couldn’t imagine seeing the Great Migration of the wildebeest and thought for sure we’d miss it. Not only did we see some of the 1.5 million wildebeest crossing the Maasai Mara, but we saw it two days in a row!! We saw so many animals, so many lions and leopards and elephants and giraffes, that now that I’m back, it’s hard to believe we were really there, really smelling the dry grass, the marshes, inhaling the incessant dust. At times sometimes we heard hyenas calling, once a lion growling outside my window. (Thank goodness for windows and doors!)

Today I start the 50 rides. One friend is going with me on the inaugural ride, flat, not too long. The most exercise I’ve had for the last 3 weeks has been walking from the touring vans to the dinner line. Oh my! I had fantasies of riding my bike again, along the basalt cliffs of the Columbia, through the meadows of Lynn Country, over the hills.

Will you join me? I hope so. Can’t wait!

Tomorrow I hope to ride a century, 100 miles through the rolling hills of Marion County. I’ll get up around 4:30am, be on the road by 5am to Salem, and I’m hoping to be on my bike around 6am. We’ll see. I don’t feel ready. I don’t feel rested. I’m nervous and somewhat scared. Why do this to myself? I’m not sure.

Part of it is doing something I don’t know whether I can do. Sure, last summer I completed 2 centuries. Sure, I’ve been riding long rides this spring. Part of the reason is that I love long rides. Zoning out to the rhythm of my own legs, not having to worry about getting lost because so many people have worked so hard to make the turns noticeable. And then there’s the scenery, usually stunning. Tomorrow’s course has some really steep hills, mostly in the beginning. We’ll see.

I’ve gotten to the place in life where walking or taking my time doesn’t seem criminal, at least when I’m riding by myself. When riding with others, I can’t stand the idea of holding them back, slowing them down. What’s up with that? Few people really mind. So much of sports is the mind.

Well, wish me luck. I’m shooting for 100 miles in 8 hours. We’ll see.