The soul has greater need of the ideal than the real for it is by the real that we exist, it is by the ideal that we live

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

I love the streamway trail

I do! I love that trail. It's 17 miles of paved trail along a creek that provides me with what I consider to be a safe and enjoyable bike ride several times a week.

It is, however, frequently populated by...people. Now they wouldn't really be much of an issue if they didn't have this innate sense of entitlement. "It's my driveway and I'll walk right down the middle, and you can go to hell." is pretty much the sentiment. Not very neighborly if you ask me, but there it is. This is all complicated by the fact that my personal space has been estimated by some to be approximately the size of Delaware. I am acutely aware of this fact, and try to account for it when dealing with those who'd dare violate the generous space I'd prefer to have around me at all times.

I try to go early in the morning to minimize human contact. But they've figured that out too, so even if I get there between 5:30 and 6am I still spend the last 45 mins. to an hour dodging pedestrians who think my presence is a deterrent to the enjoyment of "their" trail, and I should be hassled as much and as often as possible.

Now, as most of you know, I do not suffer fools...at all. This frequently complicates matters. Sunday, as I mentioned in yesterday's post, I went out for a ride and overdid a bit. I guess I shouldn't be riding 25 miles in godawful heat, but I'd done it already and was on my way back to the car. There is a stretch in which one descends from a hilltop rather quickly and I always try to keep the speed down because one never knows when a clueless pedestrian will be standing smack in the middle of the trail as you careen around a curve, oblivious to the fact that they're not the only person in the world and completely surprised that you have appeared, bearing down on them, bemused at their mad scramble to safety. So it's prudent to just use the brakes and hope you're going slow enough to avoid the porcin-ity that is potentially around each and every turn.

I had thankfully already made this particular descent and was rounding a bend headed for a bridge at a rather respectable 7mph when I was faced with not one, not two, but four of them. The ladies were leading the pack and the one closest to the center obviously had some experience with the matter cause she was looking like a linebacker ready for the scrimmage. She wasn't giving an inch. (Think William "the refrigerator" Perry.)

Being the good neighborly rider I try to be, and yes those who know me realize how difficult that is, I bore a bit farther to my right so as to get around her. This, unfortunately, put me a bit off balance and I had to correct to stay upright, which maneuver placed me in the direct path of husband number one. He danced a jig the likes of which I haven't seen in quite some time, if ever from a heterosexual. The entire pog stopped in anticipation, I assume, of the impending crash, which both he and I managed somehow to avoid.

However, the entire episode sent me right over the edge. "Pay attention folks! There are other people in the world. This isn't your fucking driveway!"

Perhaps I could have stated all that better, but I was already heading over the bridge and there seemed little time to covey my message, so fuck 'em.

In their defense I had earlier talked with a bike rider about his road manners. He was riding the trail with headphones, something that always endears weekend warriors to me as I completely understand wanting to drown out the sound of the creek and the birds and the crickets as you ride your way to health via the sounds of Rush Linbaugh droning in your ears with some barbiturate saturated paranoia. Yeah, that's the way to experience nature alright.

He was approaching and passing everyone without one word of warning. It's custom to say "on your left." as you approach someone so they know you're about to pass. This guy? nada, no clue. He had not the vaguest notion that he should do that. I know this because I saw him stop to talk to a couple of other bikers and he seemed to have good social skills, which I told him as I gave him hell for scaring the shit out of everyone else as he suddenly appeared at their left shoulder merrily hauling ass down the trail without regard for anyone. So the bicyclists aren't any better than the pedestrians in many respects, and apparently it falls to me to point that out to all of them. It's a damn dirty job...

I still love the trail. This morning I was riding it's companion just a mile or two from my apt and while rounding a bend on the way home I saw two stags, eating away along the creek. Very cool. It's moments like that which make all the 'human' interaction that is necessary on the trail worth the trouble.


Love