Not far into the ride in a section where the horse trail I was riding was close to the paved bike trail, the male of an oncoming couple blurted out his version of the typical quip, "he lost his other wheel!" He said it twice just to make sure his partner heard. Sheesh. These inane comments don't usually bother me, but today I was just wishing that folks would be a little more creative, or just keep quiet. It is always the guys with the stupid comments, too. I find women are surprisingly supportive in what they say, as if they are cheering on one of their neighbor kids playing soccer ("oh, good for you!").

The trail has two long bridges over county roads that have a decent grade up and down, and it was on the steep uphill approach of the bridge over Manning Trail Road that a guy on a bike approaching me from behind said, "Quit making it look so easy". That is absolutely the nicest quip I've heard while riding. I thanked him, not just for his comment, but for saying something thoughtfully supportive. What he didn't realize is that, in fact, that part of the ride on a paved uphill isn't really that hard compared to undulating, loose dirt with hoof divots on an uphill grade with fallen branches, but hey I'll take it anyway.

The Stillwater boys cross country team was finishing their Saturday run about the time I drove up. It was hard to find a parking place, but since they were finishing their run rather than starting, the trail wasn't crowded. With the light rain and cold October temperatures the trail was nearly empty. First thing I noticed was that I was riding rather fast compared to other times this summer. I suppose it is the running. I worked on turning quick circles with my feet, similar to what I used to do on the track at the Jr High. The trail had been groomed with bank gravel on the hills. This is better than sand, but certainly looser than the packed dirt that was there previously. This time instead of trying to get up the steeper hills I rode as comfortably as I could through the bank gravel and got off when I was stalling. I took two good tumbles that had me rolling and once more was glad I was wearing the 661 shin and knee guards. They've saved my knees several times this year.

I also noticed, now that I know the trail pretty well, that I am over-anticipating the hills that give me trouble. As soon as I see the runup to a tough slope I mentally replay the many times the hill beat me in the past, my confidence evaporates and I often fail on the first third. I've found that a good antidote is a to have a mental response when my thoughts focus on previous dismounts. "I think I can, I think I can" doesn't cut it. I need something more tangible, and this ride I had it. I've been running quite a bit more this summer, which, although it means less riding, also means more leg strength. So in my runups to hills this ride I could respond to myself that I've got more power so if I focus on good balance I've got a better chance than usual.

On the front end of the ride, it worked. I topped at least one hill that I've never successfully ridden before, and another than I rarely beat. The way back was another story. With that leg power gone I had the will and the conficence, but not the strength and pancaked pretty hard on the top third of three hills. There's something memorable about catching your fall just inches from a rock rising toward your noggin.

I always protect my aging body parts with KH gloves and 4x4 shin/knee protection and they paid off. I ache a bit today but that's what asprin, my recreational drug of choice, is for.

Here's where solitude also paid off. No one saw my falls, no one fretted about my old bones, and no one would be questioning my sanity. Except me.

[ I-694 bridge east of St. Paul MN passing over the gateway trail]

In truth, it was a great ride out. I worked on relaxing my shoulders and keeping all the channels of input firing. Vision, touch and balance, sound...I was trying to relax and just let my body respond quickly to all the stimulus. There are three particular hills on that section of the horse trail that give me trouble. One is moderate grade with a long grassy runout with hidden hills and holes (when you are celebrating beating the hill the runout puts you on your nose), one long incline that alternates grass and single track and a third that has a challenging grade and loose sand under the wheel. I got two of three, and almost made the third, so the relaxation wasn't hurting my success any.

While the ride out was great, the ride back was another story. Did I say it was very hot and sunny? The trail had about 50% shade so there was some relief, but yes, it was hot. I carried a Camelback and made sure to take regular sips, but I was starting to feel a bit tired. At the halfway point (where we took the picture already showing me fairly red in the face) we stopped for a break and I found myself not really wanting to get going again. I decided to take the paved trail to conserve energy, but still only made it about half way back before thinking that my balance was starting to wane. I dismounted and walked the remainder of the trail, not without some struggling. I was fortunate to have Karen along for support.

It turns out that I was suffering from symptoms of heat exhaustion. No only was I physically exhausted, my vision was playing tricks on me as if my brain couldn't process the spots of very bright sunlight. Once home (Karen drove, obviously) I downed sports drinks, applied an ice pack and just sat down in the air conditioning and cooled off. After a shower and a nap I'm feeling way better.

So that was dumb. The lessons learned today were (1) respect the heat when making choices about when and where to ride and (2) keep riding with a partner who can help when things go wrong.

If you check the date of this entry and the last entry you'll see a nearly 2 month gap which represents how long its been between rides. Yikes! And I felt it on this ride. Wow, I'm pooped. When I get tired I ride with my shoulders forward and butt back which causes all kinds of posture and lower back fatigue. I had flashes of my high school football hollering at me, "Michaels, get your butt under you!!!" as he blew the whistle and had me go one-on-one with another kid one more time. So Coach Moore's demands rang in my ears as I tried to get my butt under me, relax my shoulders but keep them back in line with my hips, and get my weight more on to my feet.

When you read beginner instructions about unicycle riding you read that you should put your weight on the seat. That's fine for learning, but when you are out on the trail you really need to get the weight transferred to the balls of your feet so you can make quick balance adjustments (and so that you junk doesn't get numb so fast).

The layoff affected my mounts. After walking up a particularly steep hill I mounted at the top only to go careening off to the side missing a stump and landing in some raspberries on the side of the trail. You can still see the dent in the berry patch that I made with my posterior.

Last night I watched Man on a Wire, the documentary of Philippe Petit's 1974 wirewalk between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. I coudn't tell what was real archive footage and what was recreation, but there were several clips of Philippe as a young man practicing on the wire. I was taken by the enormous concentration he showed while out on the wire - his face was transformed - and how he kept his head high, chin up and eyes forward. I think I can learn from that focus and apply it to my riding. I'll skip the 1/4 mile high part though.

And it was more challenging than I expected.

Roads have undulations to ride through and potholes to avoid, but compared to the drops and bumps every 5 feet as you jounce over sidewalk cracks and expansion joints, roads are smoooooth. I find, especially with the 24 compared to the 29 wheel, that my slow speed stability is low and jittery. Combine that stability issue with the unexpected challenge of sidewalk riding and this noon's outing was an adventure!

I rode the 24" from the gym to an outdoor basketball court where I worked on figure 8s, mounts, stalls and rocking using drills I've described before. Compared to the 29", the 24' feels twitchy and less stable in the wheel. That's great for maneuvering, since you can twist and turn the wheel quickly, and less rotating mass means the wheel is easier to stop and restart during stalls and rocks. It is also a size that I feel confident free mounting without holding on to the wheel (Megan's Mount) like I do with the 29".

The ride to and from the court is mostly on paved roads through a quiet neighborhood with little traffic, so that's where I chose to practice looking behind me. I started by just looking over my right shoulder, then my left. Then I tried to actually see and focus on something like a traffic sign or parked car I had passed to the left, and then the right. I tried twisting my shoulders a bit to allow more of a look behind, and I tried to keep looking back for 3-4 seconds. It didn't take long before I felt ok looking behind me on both sides, and wasn't roaming too far off a straight track down the road.

Next I need to practice looking behind me when I'm on a dirt path, or steeper inclines or declines. What isn't hard on paved flats often becomes much more of a challenge on hilly, rocky paths.

Most riders are very congenial, and all the horses I've approached or passed are very calm. However, I've recently decided to dismount or where possible to ditch over to the paved trail when passing or approaching two or more horses. Even though they've always been calm, they are big beasts and haven't had much experience with unicycles before so I don't want to cause them to bolt, particularly with a student rider.

Here's a brief encounter with a pair earlier today. I was pretty tired and coming to the end of a 10+ mile ride, but really it wasn't any trouble to dismount, walk by and greet the riders. They seemed a little snarky for some reason, but that's their problem, not mine.

Also, for the first time ever, I came across two other unicyclists. We passed by each other on one of the bridges and I think all of us were surprised. They had some tricked out 36" touring unicycles with bars but I didn't catch the type, and of course I forgot to turn on the video camera!

When I approach a cross street with traffic I usually dismount and sensibly walk up to the intersection, wait for traffic to clear, cross and remount. This takes effort though so I'm more likely to do it in the beginning of the ride, and all too often will try to stay in the saddle and cross the street later in the ride. That's what happened today. I rode a dirt road through the experiment station and eventually had to cross Gortner Ave which funnels a fair bit of traffic from the north through the east side of campus. Since I was on gravel and still a bit unsure of my balance early in the riding season I only stole a quick glance left and right. I knew there was one car oncoming, but it was far enough away to cross. However, just as I got to the crown in the middle of the road I started wobbling and had to take swing back and forth to regain my balance. All of this took time and I was conscious that the car that was previously far enough away, was now bearing down. I regained my composure and crossed in plenty of time, but for the rest of the ride I ran through scenarios in my head where I didn't see a car, misjudged the distance, or for whatever reason was in the middle of the road at the wrong time and got smacked.

Next time I'm going to make sure I get a good look up and down the road for any threats, and if I can't see or see that it will be even remotely close, I'll dismount. Its just not worth saving a little time and energy, but tangle with a car. As a paramedic friend once told me, flesh and steel don't mix.

I think the thing I lost after my 2 month layoff was acclimation to the seat. I was pleased that my balance was fine, and my fitness was still reasonable due to other things I'm doing, but my crotch hurt. I had trouble finding a comfortable position for the first 6 or 8 blocks. After that I forgot about it for the rest of the ride.

My favorite part of the ride wasn't anything physical, but rather my drive by the local bicycle hangout. There are two bikeshop/coffee bar/breakfast joints across the street from each other at 4th and Churchill and I like to ride down 4th and up Churchill on my way back home. Middle age guys in red Lycra, snappy bikes and thickening beltlines were hanging around the outside tables with their lattes when I rode past. The last thing I heard as I approached the corner was a voice saying, "yeah, its all carbon" in reference to some type of rim on his machine, and then as I rode past, nothing but silence. Once clear the conversations picked up again, not likely about the joys of unicycling.

Its great to be out again. The trails will be dry soon.

First, when transitioning from dry road to snow, I prepare myself for a surprising amount of drag on the wheel that could pitch me forward if I'm not braced for it. It's like sand.

Second, I really don't know what the snow is covering up so I need to expect anything. One of the lines I rode today had very lumpy ice under the smooth cover of light snow. One of those lumps stopped my wheel just as if I had hit a rock and I highsided, taking a pretty good tumble. Next time I'll get my weight off the seat and on my toes, ride lightly and expect roughness under the surface.

Third, where there is snow there could also be ice. I always worry about glare ice under the snow. In any ice situation I try to keep the unicycle upright and directly under me, and I avoid turning the wheel very much. It's like riding over railroad tracks...hit the ice patch square and ride straight over it.

Probably the best advice I give myself when I see show that might be covering ice is to dismount and walk. The hardest falls happen on glare ice.

On the way back from the prison are two or three long-ish stretches of uphill. Nothing terribly steep, but long. During those stretches I realized that the motion is a lot like working out on an elliptical machine in the gym. Now, to be truthful, I've only worked out a few times on an elliptical machine so I'm no expert, but regardless, the feeling I got climbing the hills on the unicycle reminded me of those times in the gym. Minus the fancy digital workout monitor. I suppose I could have said I felt like Lance getting out of the saddle on the Col du Tourmalet, but that would be quite a stretch of the imagination. Still, the sensation is one of rising up from the saddle and really torquing down on those pedals and when doing so, giving the uni a slight, controlled side to side swing.

My pics have nothing to do with a thigh-burning elliptical romp up a short hill, but rather the play of shadow behind me when touring down the road.

The trip out included one short stretch of dirt road along the short north end of the lake. The road is the kind that curves up a steep hill so you can't see the crest until you are on the steepest part with about 50 feet to go. Last time out here I bucked off near the top and today was no different. It just keeps getting steeper, and the dirt road more rutted.

The dirt road empties out by the northwest corner of the lake into a perky planned neighborhood simulating an idealized small midwest town with 1930s and 40s architecture, but construction techniques, building materials and pre-recession square footage from the 2000s. I normally don't like going up there because, although there is a paved path along the lake, they don't allow bicycles on the path. Only walking. And dogs. It just doesn't seem like a friendly place. This time I kept to the roads with names like Liberty, Pioneer, Reunion and eventually reached a lake path outside of the planned zone where bikes were welcome.

Coming back into town I tackled the hill on Pine Street. It is a steep downhill back into the St. Croix Valley that was challenging, but I used the "heel down" technique I noted in an earlier entry, and it was manageable.

I wish I had some new insight from this morning's ride, but I'm afraid I don't. It was just a nice ride on a cold morning through neighborhoods that I don't normally visit. Some rides are deeper than others. This one was more on the shallow end.