I lay awake half of last night listening to the thunderstorms roll in. It was a welcome sound after two days near 100. This morning was still warm, but much better. I threw my bike in the back of the van and drove to the bike trail. I have a favorite section of the trail that I usually ride � I took RS there when she was here. But my husband�s been lobbying for me to try a different stretch, one I�d never been on before.

Although the trailhead isn�t far from home, it took me a while to get there. There were tree limbs down everywhere and all the traffic lights were out. By the time I got there, I was a little turned around. I started heading down the trail one way, along the railroad tracks. Bunnies hopped in front of my wheels with alarming frequency as well as the occasional chipmunk and mole. For some reason, I had a feeling I was going the wrong way, so I turned back to check the map at the trailhead. Unfortunately, the map was missing. I started riding the other way and soon realized that I was now going the wrong direction. It was a path of fierce hills, hills so steep that while descending them I was in serious danger of catapulting over the handlebars. Perhaps I should have taken the written admonitions to dismount and walk more seriously. Nah. This part of the trail wound through a pine forest and past a swamp and alongside a field of electrical wires that hummed in a vaguely threatening manner.

When I hit a main street, I turned back again and headed back past the trailhead to the route I�d started on in the first place. This segment ran alongside the railroad tracks and was blissfully flat, although completely lacking in shade. I crossed a two-lane highway and found myself pedaling through the middle of a very busy sod farm. There were tractors everywhere. It was fascinating to watch the work going on and the large swaths of sod looked cool and inviting. The trail itself was hemmed in by waist-high wildflowers: Queen Anne�s lace, goldenrod, chicory and milkweed, the latter of which is in full and fragrant bloom at the moment. I always marvel at how milkweed flowers look and smell like lilacs. An ancient-looking engine drove by on the tracks pulling a tanker car. The engineer waved at me. I waved back and nearly drove into the weeds. Just call me Grace.

After the sod farm, the terrain changed first to cornfields (the corn is, in fact, nearly as high as an elephant�s eye. I checked.) and then to spectacular gardens as I approached a small town. I was kind of fascinated by the fact that many of the yards were fenced in with high fences but that they had elaborate flower gardens on the trail side of the fences. It seems like a generous gesture, to plant a garden that you can�t see from your house or yard but that can be enjoyed by anyone who passes by your home.

Eventually I arrived at the town itself. I stopped at the central park for a drink and a little shade before heading back to the car. I�m not sure how far I went altogether. I�d guess about 15 miles or so. It was a nice way to start the day, although I didn�t get too much work done as a result. I�ll have to remedy that tomorrow. I'll also have to fix my aching quadriceps. Ow. That's what I get for refusing to stretch before tackling hills. Yoga tomorrow should be excruciating.

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