brrr... it's cold out there!

I'm looking forward to riding a Salsa Mukluk 3 this winter. Two years ago, I was able to ride a fat bike for the first time. I liked the flotation, and especially the ability to ride off-road during the winter. Even fat tires don't work so well on fresh snow. But for everything else they are lovely.

While discussing a fat bike purchase, I was asked by my go-to bike shop guy whether I am thinking of riding in the Arrowhead 135 race. First of all, I was flattered. I'm a fifty year old pastor who rarely gets enough time to build much of a mileage base. I don't think of myself as being in the same league as the athletes who enter this event or the less than half who are able to complete it. A younger version of myself with fewer commitments would have jumped at the opportunity.

But I haven't ruled it out. I continue to be interested in new frontiers and self-discovery, and this event seems like it would be a place to find out more about myself. It would be an opportunity to grow and learn on the bicycle in a new way, something I haven't done for a while.

It would probably be easier to make another attempt at learning to ride the unicycle I purchased a few years back, but that seems like it needs something other than two wheels and a prayer.

Another day, Another ride

It was another busy week, so I was unable to get out for another ride until yesterday. I rode my old GT Karakorum mountain bike, which I've had for about 16 years now.

Riding a bicycle has been the most consistent part of my life for a long time. I've gone from electronics geek, to art student, registered nurse, seminary student, and pastor. I have spent time on two wheels the whole time. When I'm not able to get out for a ride, I am more susceptible to depression and worry. Yesterday's ride revitalized my spirit when I didn't even realize I needed it.

In seminary, I was taught many spiritual practices including prayer, study, worship, and service. While all of these have helped to grow my faith, riding a bicycle has been the best means of restoring my spirit. I'm more prone to fatigue when I am unable to go for a ride.

Last winter was more difficult for me, and I suspect that not riding my bicycle was part of it. I mounted studded tires on the Karakorum, but didn't use it. For this winter, I am going to get a fat bike. On some level, it seems kind of crazy when I already have eight bicycles. How can I think of such a thing when I have such an outrageous abundance of bicycles? Yet the cost of a fat bike seems reasonable for keeping my spirit in balance.

Discovering new places to ride

It's been a day off- and some time to ride in Fosston, MN. I discovered an ATV/snowmobile route not far from my mother-in-law's house. There are lots of nice ATV trails in this part of Minnesota that seem like undiscovered territory for mountain bikes. Riding a bicycle seems to have little or no impact on the trails themselves.

I like being able to explore without really knowing where I am going. I use a Garmin bicycle GPS that leaves a nice little trail of breadcrumbs. This allows me to impulsively makes twists and turns without much fear of getting lost.

I'm feeling grateful for living in an area with so much open country to explore. While it is relatively flat in Thief River Falls and Crookston, I don't have to go very far to discover something new.

Movement and Two wheels, discipliine of blogging.

I'm just back from a week at the lake. I commuted to our cabin on my motorcycle. It's about a 6 hour ride, so it gives me a lot of time to focus on movement. On my return trip, I saw lots of motorcycles going the other way. Some of them were motorcycles that have been converted to trikes.

One of the aspects of spending time on two wheels is that you have to keep moving. An 850 pound motorcycle is an ungainly beast when it is at rest. But when you induce the slightest forward momentum, it becomes easy to handle.

It's obviously a metaphor, but I think this is also true about life, or at least one's perception of it. Life is in a constant state of movement-- and it can seem like an ungainly beast when we start to act as if it is frozen in time. Each of us leaves behind an ephemeral trail of breadcrumbs; when we start to act as if those breadcrumbs are life itself, we truly are lost.

For a variety of reasons, I'm trying to establish a discipline for blogging. Feel free to comment if any of what I have to share has any resonance with you. I'll try to keep my postings brief, but regular.

Gravel Grinding and solitude.

It's been quite a while since I made an entry. This summer I've become more interested in riding on gravel. I enjoy the solitude and lack of traffic. Occasionally, I'm eating dust from a passing vehicle, but this seldom happens. The people I've met on gravel roads are very polite. No one seems to be in too big of a hurry, and this seems like a good match for the slow solitude of riding a bicycle.

The bike I rode today is a Salsa Spearfish 3. It's really overkill for riding on gravel-- but the big 29er tires combined with dual suspension, give it a nice floaty feel. I've had more fun with this bike on singletrack, but I like it for gravel as well.

In Thief River Falls, I have my old loaded touring bike set up with Kenda cyclocross tires. This is actually pretty good-- quite speedy, actually. It's not as comfortable, but the 27 x 1 3/8 tires are just fine for providing enough floatation. I only get bogged down in the really loose stuff.

Gravel Grinding has become a sport-- but the only internet discussions of it have been about long distances or competition. For me, it seems to be the kind of uncharted territory I like to explore. I'm not in a hurry, and it really doesn't matter how fast I go. I've got nothing to prove-- so the time I spend riding is pure enjoyment.

Last winter, I really missed riding a bicycle. I have a Surly Mukluk on order so that I will be able to have some adventure this winter. Mostly, I'm interested in travelling on the rivers around here. In the winter, you don't have to travel very far to have a great deal of solitude. If I ride five miles from my home in Thief River Falls, I'm pretty much in the middle of nowhere. 

Much of my work as a pastor involves working with people. Yet in order for me to find my centre with God, I need to have periods of solitude. This is part of why living in north-western Minnesota is a blessing for introverted clergy.