This weekend, Team Harlot trouped off on a bike trip (It’s getting harder and harder to impress the sock), and my arse has a profound opinion about my activity on said bike, and I am standing up.
We rode the waterfront trail for about 75 km, from Toronto to Darlington Provincial Park (just past Oshawa) , camped for the night then (much to the chagrin of my arse) turned around and rode back. That’s a two day ride of 150km, and while It’s not a feat like Claudia accomplishes, my arse assures you that considering one of the members of my team is 11 years old (Go Sam!) it’s really something to be proud of.
I give you the socks weekend in photos.
This is a bumper sticker on my bike, courtesy Jennifer at Spirit Trail Fiberworks. It says “My other vehicle is a spinning wheel” and I think that (especially on a bike) this is hysterically funny. I see it all the time while I’m riding and it cracks me up.
This is Team Harlot (and the sock..) totally ready to go. (Note the expressions on their faces. Doesn’t that totally say “My mother is a lunatic, please help me”?
The sock on a flight of stairs, just this side of Pickering. The sock was absolutely no help pushing a fully loaded tour bike up a flight of stairs. (Do not tell me how they don’t look bad. Push the bike first) As a matter of fact, I believe that the socks may be smirking. (I am starting to think that there is a possibility that the sock is a freeloading jerk.)
The largest wind turbine in North America. (Does the sock look impressed? No. I’m telling you, this was about 40k in, and the sock just wasn’t playing ball.
An Inukshuk. I love finding these on the trail.
The sock resting at the campsite. For reasons I don’t understand, the sock is not afraid of that seat the way I am. The first day’s riding is fine, but when you get up the next morning and put your arse back down on that seat…it is briefly breathtaking, then settles down into a throbbing dull pain. More training does not seem to prevent arse pain. I think arses are untrainable.
The beach at Darlington, looking west toward Toronto. It’s sort of neat to look back where you came from, realizing that you have ridden so far in one day that you can barely pick your cities skyline out.
A frog. I can report that frogs seem to have less interest in knitting than snakes. Admittedly, this is a very small sample size (one frog and one snake, er…and one sock) but I will be watching for a trend.
The view from a bridge on the way home, looking out over Lake Ontario toward Rochester NY, though it’s far, far, far to far to see.
Today, I knit. (Standing up.)