Back on the road again

Muscle memory is an amazing thing.  Over a  period of years of riding a bike, my leg muscles, when used regularly, fall into a very comfortable rhythm of turning over the crank about 80 times per minute.  When not used regularly, they fall into a rhythm similar to a fine precision clock.  Well, at least a fine precision clock that has been tossed off a cliff.

For the past two days I have been doing a loop of about 11 miles.  A few short years ago a short loop would have been 20.  But after taking a considerable amount of time off the bike, for which there are no good reasons, 11 miles seems to be a good number to start.

I have not been consistent about getting on the trainer in the basement.  It is very hard to get enthused about parking myself on a bike that goes nowhere.  It is a good workout, on a good day.  But a half hour on the trainer is nothing like 15 minutes on the road.  An hour on the road seems to go faster than 10 minutes on the trainer.  The rhythm is different also.  It is not hard to hold a steady pace on the trainer, but toss in a few grades (there are no hills around here, just grades) and suddenly my cadence changes slightly as the hill progresses and gears change, my legs start to complain and my heart rate goes up much quicker, the scenery changes and it is much better than the basement.  

Even after two quick rides, the memory comes back.  Muscles remember how to tighten and loosen, I shift without thinking, I slide back and forth on the saddle as the terrain changes.  I stop thinking about what to do next.  I see birds, cows and farmers in the middle of spring planting.  The wildflowers are starting to bloom in the hedgerows and unplowed fields.  And there must be a deer or two around somewhere.

As I ride along, I think back to other rides.  The long hills of DALMAC, the steepness of Brockway Mountain, rider-packed roads of RAGBRAI and the castle with the moat in France.  I guess memory is not restricted to muscles.