A Blustery Day

Sunday morning, it was time for Dawn Patrol and another metric century with Bob and Sarah. At 63 °F, the temperature was nearly 20 degrees warmer than when we started our ride last weekend, but the stiff southern wind and overcast skies made for a gloomy sort of day. That was good news for us, because the homeliness of the day kept a lot of the usual runners and wobblies inexperienced cyclists away from The Rock, and the wind made us work—for half the loop, at least.

Nature break (a gratuitous double entendre)

I think it was after our fourth loop (~36 miles) that we made a quick stop for potty breaks and energy bars. As I munched on a Blackberry Sawdust Clif bar, a squirrel with a very fluffy tail boldly scampered up to me. It sat up on its haunches and watched me intently, eyes bright and whiskers twitching.

"Hey, Squirrel Bait," I called to Sarah. "Your little friend's back."

"Ew! Make it go aw—"

She didn't finish, instead stopping to watch the squirrel. It had cranked the cuteness up to 10, sensing the potential for a handout, and would have batted its eyelashes at her, if it had had any.

"Aw... he is kinda cute, isn't he?"

The squirrel puffed up its tail and shook it to signal its excitement and a desire to be our best friend. I broke off a chunk of my Clif bar and tossed it in the squirrel's direction.

The squirrel leapt into the air. Time slowed, Matrix-like, so that we could fully appreciate the back flip with full twist it executed before snatching the crumb from the air and landing in a graceful crouch on the sidewalk.

"Go, Neo!" I said, genuinely impressed.

The squirrel was busily munching its chunk of chewy energy bar, but spared me a glance and seemed to wink conspiratorially.

Meanwhile...

St. Bob had been on the phone, checking in at home. There was a smallish emergency that was going to cut his ride short—and Sarah's, as well, since they'd carpooled.

To make a long story a bit shorter, I ended up going off on my own so that I'd be sure to get in my metric before my lovely bride started looking at the clock and worrying (as she is wont to do). I considered going for some extra distance, but by the time I'd finished my seventh lap, I'd had enough of the wind and the racer wannabes and gave that a miss. I ended with 65.5 miles at an average of 16 mph.

Later in the day, I got a call from Bob, who wanted to be sure I'd made out okay finishing on my own.

I don't call him St. Bob for nothing.

He told me that he and Sarah had gotten their 63 miles in, too. After taking care of business at home and having some lunch, they went back out and finished their ride. Bob also had some material to add to the squirrel anecdote:

After he and Sarah finished their last lap and returned to the parking lot, the park maintenance guy who had tried to help Bob with his mechanical problem last week was there. He asked about Bob's bike problem and whether they'd had a good ride, just making conversation. Then, he asked if they'd seen his squirrel, and it turns out that the bold little critter I'd fed isn't just some random rodent. Her name is "Sylvia".

Who knew?