Baltimore. Bikes. Bananas.

I like bikes. Riding them. Looking at them. Talking about them. Wrenching on them. Contemplating which one I’ll buy next. Some years back, I thought about the possibility of completing a century. For the uninitiated, that’s one hundred miles. On a bike. I put it off using every excuse I could think of. I’m not fit enough. I’ll never be fit enough. One hundred miles is so far. Too far. Thankfully, some friends held me accountable and asked repeatedly how training was going. It worked. I completed my first century in 2014.

This got me thinking. What else can I do? I set my sights on long day trips. I set goals to ride from DC to Annapolis, and from DC to Baltimore. While I made the roundtrip journey to Annapolis on a summer day in 2015, I still put off Baltimore. I used much of the same logic I had used prior. It’s too far. I’m not in the best shape. There’s no good route. The route isn’t safe. And it continued.

A co-worker told me about creating routes on Strava, a social fitness tracking site. The creating routes feature allows you to pick two or more points and get the most popular route between them. There are also options to minimize the route’s elevation and to plan the route manually. I looked into it. After exploring different routes to Charm City, I decided that I’d go all in. Baltimore or bust.

Last weekend, I made the trip. There were a few times during the 60+ miles that I questioned my decision making. But none of that was present as I saw the Baltimore skyline in the distance. My route was a nice mixture of trails, back roads, quiet residential streets, and slightly busier streets with wide shoulders. It took around five hours in total (just over four hours of actual moving time). After a delicious Baltimore lunch, I made my way to Penn Station to take the MARC train back to DC. My life and legs weren’t quite ready to ride 60+ miles back. It’s a nice day trip that I’d recommend to anyone considering the opportunity.

Be kind to yourself.
Onward.

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Monday in a Picture – Cutting Grass

It was the summer of 2006. This was the summer before my senior year of college, and I was spending it with my uncle and his family in Fayette County, Georgia. All of the single family homes seemed to have perfectly manicured lawns. There wasn’t a blade of grass out of place. On one Saturday morning, my cousin, uncle, and I got up early. It was time to cut the grass at our house. 

This was a new experience for me. I had never cut grass, or done any yard work. My cousin and uncle taught me how to start and use the gas powered lawnmower. It was hard work. I wasn’t able to achieve that perfectly manicured look that I saw at the neighbors’ homes, but I got the job done. 

Almost eleven years later, I am responsible for maintaining the grassy area around my home on the homestead. My host mom reminds me of this when my grass grows too high. She warns me that high grass gives snakes places to hide. 

Lawnmowers are a rarity in Swaziland. They are practically non-existent in the rural community. There are two options for cutting grass. There’s an older pair of garden shears, and there’s something called a siheshe (pronounced see-heh-shay), or slasher. It’s smaller than a bush knife and has a modest handle with a thin, long metal blade. When my host brother was home for the Christmas holidays, I saw him using the siheshe to cut grass. I asked him how one cut grass with it. He responded simply, “just beat the hell out of it”. I remembered that on one weekday afternoon as I attempted to cut my grass, Swazi style. Eventually, I found a rhythm. I also found a new appreciation for lawnmowers. The slasher gets the job done and gives you a workout. Luckily, I only have to cut the grass twice a month. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

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