A seaside pedal

I rode my bike 20km today. I am quite proud of this fact! 20km sounds like such a huge number - so much bigger than the equivalent number in miles. I wonder if this is why people run 5k races - sounds more impressive than 3.1 mile races (although to me that sounds pretty impressive). But I digress. Anyway, this afternoon I decided that I wanted to go out for a bike ride. While the day was a bit chilly, I knew it would definitely be bearable once I started pedaling.

So, I hopped on the trusty Bike of Doom and pedaled out of town. At first, I thought I would go the 5km to Swan Lake (ahahahahahaha...sorry), but then I decided to just continue to pedal along the coast to the airport, which was 8km.

It was just so beautiful to bike right by the sea and watch the waves crash on the shore. I thought of my dad and how much he likes bodysurfing (although I think one would need a wetsuit in that water). Then, I thought again about how strange it was to be pedaling along a country's northern coastline. Back home, I'd mostly been to the southern edge of the country with occasional visits to the western and eastern sides. But never the northern seacoast - for obvious reasons.

As I swept along the coast, I felt like I could pedal forever. The sky seemed to both stretch forever and rest low, like a cap. I approached the airport and pedaled on by, headed on into the vast emptiness, but with my crashing sea as the ever present neighbor to my left.

I decided that I wanted to go down to the beach and watch the waves, but there was a good bit of growth between the road and the beach. 2km past the airport, I found a way down to the beach. As I exited the road and headed down, I noticed that the wind was pretty strong. I hoped that it wouldn't knock my bike over.

I parked my bike and walked around on the beach for a few minutes. I noticed several perfect shells, and then I saw it. A perfect sand dollar! I always wanted to find one when I went to the beach in Florida, but I never could. And now, here one was, just as beautiful as could be!

I couldn't bring myself to displace it from its lonely and beautiful habitat - it felt a bit like kidnapping - so I left it. I wonder if anyone else will find it and take it, or if it will get buried in the sand, or washed out to sea.

I made my way back to my bike and decided to head on out. Before I had turned off to go to the beach, I had toyed with the idea of pedaling on further, or exploring a side road I had seen. The wind felt pretty strong, though, so I decided to start biking the 10km back home, instead.

I hopped on my bike, started to pedal, and noticed that I really wasn't going anywhere. Hmm. It kind of felt like my bike was stuck in molasses. But, there hadn't been a molasses explosion in Northern Japan. It was the wind. The really really strong wind. And I was 10km from home.

Well, I pedaled and pedaled, but it was really a losing battle. I remembered those dreams where I've been running from something and just couldn't get the traction or power to actually get anywhere. But this time, I was awake. Thankfully, nothing was chasing me!

I fruitlessly continued to pedal, and as I laboriously made my was along, I concocted the perfect plan. I would stop at a bus stop, ditch my bike in the undergrowth, and take the bus home. I would just come back for my bike when there was less wind - like maybe in 2020.

Unfortunately, buses don't run very often in the vast wilderness.

When I got to the only stop where I could conceivably carry out my plan, it turned out to be the airport stop. Somehow, burying my bike in the brush outside the airport didn't seem like the best plan. So, I soldiered on. It took me 20 minutes to do 2km. That is not very fast, especially for a bike.

I found myself trying to make myself more aerodynamic. I tried twisting my body first. That didn't work out too well, and it was kind of hard to see where I was going. Then, I tried pulling a move from my days of sailing at camp where you approach the wind in a zig-zag pattern - tacking. Then, I removed my coat to try to mitigate the sail effect. That seemed to help a little, although it may have been wishful thinking. The best effect seemed to be when I hunched way down like a racer (channeling my inner Lance Armstrong). But then I had the hard to see problem again.

The kilometers slowly passed, and home drew closer and closer. I was so happy and so exhausted as I pedaled into the outskirts of town. I wobbled past a speed trap and wondered if I would get pulled over on the suspicion of drunken bicycling (I didn't).

By the time I had made it to my neighborhood, I was worn out, but I had learned a very important lesson. When you feel like you could pedal on forever, take a minute to see if you are doing the work of pedaling, or if you are taking a free ride on the wind!