Blowing & Drifting

That’s the famous demand that Jens Voigt, a superlatively tough pro cyclist, makes during especially hard rides. My ride today was hardly a Tour de France stage, but it was both the longest ride and the longest workout I’ve ever done.

The ride took me further away from Northfield than any ride I’ve done, into countryside that features some sizable lakes (and little lake towns), endless marshes that come right up to the roadside, and some bizarrely roads, like this gravel superhighway, easily four lanes wide and connecting noplace to nowhere:

All this was very scenic and pleasant – at least until the legs started to shut down. About three-quarters of the way through the ride, as I started (slowly) climbing a very long gravel hill that I swear was at least a 50% grade, I actually said, “Shut up, legs!” The obeyed, getting me up that hill and some others that came later. After a rough stretch of brutally corrugated gravel, I hit a curvy downhill and saw, not too far away, the Northfield water tower that’s not far from my house. I whooped out loud. Four miles later, I was immensely pleased to get off my bike.

As usual, I saw a lot of interesting stuff on this ride, but today I concentrated on riding at a good pace, not taking (as many) photos. For instance, I didn’t take pictures of the huge smiley face painted on the side of an abandoned building in a hamlet alongside Roberds Lake or of the red leather sofa sitting in the ditch somewhere west of Faribault. However, I couldn’t resist snapping a shot of either this odd dead tree

Or this picturesquely wrecked barn, which is a pretty accurate metaphor for how I feel right now.