I knew that I was going to attempt 34 miles. I even prepared my special protein-carb ratio beverage in two tall water bottles to keep me going. I was ready. I hopped on Jake, rode him across the lawn, onto the dirt road—which wasn’t very high-psi friendly since they grated it, this morning—and to the nearest paved road.

Seven-tenths of a mile into my ride, I started heading downhill and let out a really geeky laugh—something you might hear from a geek in an 80s flick. The geeky laugh was special, though. It represented the true joy I felt in my heart as I coasted down the hill at 20 mph.

At 2.3 miles, heading uphill, I realized that this ride wasn’t going to be easy. After about four miles, I was bombing down a long S-curve. Fifteen miles in, I gave myself the green light to seriously tackle 34 miles. That was it. I was going to do it.

Fast forward: I’m riding south of the expressway. I live north of the expressway. The only paved road that is in really good shape and bike-friendly is closed to through-traffic due to bridge work. I also realized that my ride was going to exceed 34 miles. What’s a girl to do? Well, I decided to head straight for my dirt road—the end furthest from my house. First, I had to do a few miles of paved road, and my water bottle concoction was gone. At that point, I remembered that I would always prepare three bottles to get me through long rides. Whoops.

Enter the bonk.

I made my way into the wind toward my road. I turned onto my road, could find no appreciation for the difficulty of riding on the loose gravel, and stopped. I had to stop. I had to let my dead body rest for a moment. Of course, the main reason why I stopped is because a large truck that I passed after turning onto my road was finally moving and was going to have to pass me.

Imagine my surprise and relief when the truck went by! It was the chloride truck, so it was packing the dirt with its tires and wetting it with chloride. Yay! That made it much easier to ride the remaining two miles to my house.

I rode into the driveway in time for three dachshunds, including the one in the wiener chariot, to chase and bark at me. I mustered up enough energy to do a beautiful cyclocross dismount and stop. I was dead.

I accidentally did 36.98 miles in two hours, 42 minutes. That’s not too shabby for the first bike ride of the year. My max speed was 31.4 miles. I’ll have to work on that.

The Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive meanders through the sand dunes along the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. It is pretty remarkable. Most important, there is a designated bike lane, so I just had to take Jake for a ride.

The challenge of riding the scenic drive were the cross tires, especially since I needed all the help I could get up some of those hills. I would have preferred my road tires, but I just told myself that there was enough debris on the side of the road to justify the cross tires. Of course, I totally lied to myself, because the fall-time debris was just starting, so roadie tires would’ve sufficed . . . and been much faster.

There is a bike lane along the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive.

There is some chain-grinding when I put Jake in the easiest gear, so I spent a lot of my climbing time in the second easiest gear. Mind you, the easy gear could be likened to the uncle gear on a road or a mountain bike—with a triple, of course! The fact is that the easiest gear on Jake is harder than what it would be if I actually had a road bike.

This is important information—really! You’re probably thinking, “Sure, Di, it really means something. You’re just rambling. You know that right?” See how well I know you? Isn’t it amazing how I can just peer into your mind and know what you’re thinking right on the spot?

The colored bands around the tree trunks are related to the health of the trees.

Anyway, the Pierce Stocking Drive is pretty short, probably only about 7 or 8 miles; however, this is some serious terrain! I made it up all of the hills rather easily with the exception of the hill after the scenic post number eight, the one with the colored bands around the trees designating the health of those trees. This hill was SO BIG! “How big was it, Di?” Well, this hill was so big that Jake and I stalled halfway up.

The funny part is that my parents were following me in their pick-up truck. Of course, I could go faster around the curves than they could, because I have superior cornering skills, but the one-ton Chevy Pickup with the 454 engine could make it up the hills a little easier than my little Di engine.

Perhaps this view of the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive from the scenic stop number 11, the North Bar Lake, will give you an idea of how steep the hills on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive are.

There I sat on the side of the road in the middle of that hill huffing and puffing. Of course, this is the part where all of the cars that weren’t previously around went by, including the car with all of the swanky mountain bikes on the back—seriously, they were swanky, like nice Specialized models and such.

Mom and Dad stopped alongside me and Jake and asked if I needed a ride. Even though I was dying and I felt like my lungs wanted to bleed (dramatization), I was too proud to accept the ride, and I could not let a piddly little hill get the best of me. Mom and Dad went on, and as their truck disappeared around the corner at the top of that blasted hill, I clipped in and proceeded to climb.

The thing I really am proud of is my ability to clip in on a steep uphill. I am gifted when it comes to that.

The view from scenic point number nine was really quite amazing. Of course, this picture was taken when I drove around the scenic drive a couple of days before my ride. For scale, notice the person in the lower right-hand corner.

This hill was just before the combined scenic points of nine and 10, which are the sand dune overlooks. I rode into the parking lot to say “hi” to Mom and Dad, and I chatted with another fellow who had just climbed the dune with his girlfriend. It was kind of fun riding into that parking lot because so many people just looked at me with a bit of disbelief. After all, here is an obviously overweight gal riding a funky green bike on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. Most people could not possibly conceive of doing such a thing, and here I come along.

Little did I know, the best part of the scenic drive was just beyond points nine and 10. You see, it was all downhill. Aw yeah! and Yee haw! I think I reached at least 40 mph, that day. I can’t remember, but I do know that my dad would’ve been pissed if he knew how fast I was going, cuz he is always telling me that I shouldn’t go that fast on my bike because I’m going to kill myself. Yeah, okay, Dad.

The pine plantation is scenic point number 12, and at the end of the scenic drive where the loop ends and begins. According to the U.S. National Park Service (Pine Plantation), “These trees were planted before the land became part of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore…pine plantations are out of place in Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.”

The thought of killing myself is not going to make me slow down, cuz it’s just too damn fun, and even if I did kill myself, I probably wouldn’t care after the fact. With that said, I think I will attempt two rounds on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive the next time I head up to Platte River, because it’s just that good.

On our way back toward the campground, we took a dirt road to the left (the same side of Lake Michigan Drive as the campground). That was a fun road on the cross bike. It took us to a clean beach with zero development, not even a picnic table. It was so beautiful. We finished our ride to the top of Lake Michigan Drive and rode onto the bridge across the Platte River.

The following is a photo essay.

Mom.

Thomas Magnum – you know, Magnum P.I. – would head out on his surf ski in celebration of his birthday. It was his day alone. It was how he celebrated his life. I get it.

My greatest gift to myself on my birthday, aside from winning the lottery, is to do that which proves I am truly alive. It seems as though the older I get, the more I have to prove to myself.

I almost thought today was going to be a wash – literally, a wash. This is because we had some massively heavy thunderstorms which brought over two inches of rain to my neck of the woods. Weather.com predicted rain all day, but AccuWeather promised a break at 3 p.m. Bless you, AccuWeather. You are truly superior to Weather.com. I figured this out because AccuWeather is my weather app on my iPhone, which accurately predicted the weather. Had I believed Weather.com, I never would have made it out on my bike, today.

I headed out on a route with which I was familiar, but I did not get on the computer to plan a route, beforehand. I just kind of went wherever while being mindful of traffic patterns. Riding around Durand, traffic isn’t too bad, but Durand Road is not a preferred bicycling route, especially south of town.

I felt pretty good. I felt strong. After six consecutive days of mountain biking, and a couple of rest days, I showed a marked improvement in my riding. In two hours and 40 minutes, I increased my distance from 31 to 33 miles. Go, Di! My average speed was 14.4 mph, today. On March 15, a day on which I did a comparable ride, my average speed was 13.47 mph. The biggest difference is that I felt really good after today’s ride. I could have gone further. On March 15, I was pretty much done for after that ride.

It is nice to find out on my birthday that I am improving. It is a slow improvement, but it is a motivator to keep training. Happy birthday to me.

I started road riding to get back into cycling shape. The following is my progress:

• March 6 – 15.91 miles

• March 7 – 18.56 miles
• March 9 – 27.4 miles
• March 11 – 30.52 miles
• Today – 30.04 miles.

My goal for March 11 was simply to log more than 30 miles. After that ride, I decided that I would hold at approximately 30 miles for the next few rides to evaluate how I felt and to see if there was any improvement. Both March 11 and today were quite windy. Both days had me traveling into the wind at 9 mph. Of course, the return trips were a blast…at least for last Thursday. Today’s Northeast wind seemed to get me on almost every road.

I love heading away from the wind because I can get up to speeds over 20 mph. There is something about going that fast that makes road riding so much better. It’s exciting. It spurs thoughts such as, “Wow, if I wipe out, now, I’ll get some pretty massive road rash.” Even with fleeting thoughts of pain and failure, I can’t help trying to go faster. I would like to hit 50 mph, someday. I’ve come so incredibly close (47.6), but I just couldn’t break 50. I would be really surprised if that happened in mid-Michigan, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying.

I almost didn’t reach my goal of 30 miles. I got to my road and knew that the .4-mile ride home would not get me to 30. Even though I really wanted to punk out, at the very last minute, I decided to continue. I rode to the next intersection beyond my road and back to reach 30 miles. I even had to do a very short out and back beyond my driveway. I did it, though. Even though I had given myself permission to punk out at 28 miles, I feel much better about myself for going the extra miles.

Today’s ride took a lot out of me. It was quite challenging, especially since my upper body was fatigued from yesterday’s workout. I really should not ride tomorrow. After all, I do show big improvements when I take rest days and eat well. I might head out to my personal trails and work on those some more. I need to do a little benching. Of course, you probably know nothing about that because I haven’t shared anything about my newest project, but I will share at another time.

How fitting it is that I visit a state park by the name of Sleepy Hollow as Halloween quickly approaches. It is a nice little place in the countryside on the eastern edge of Clinton County, just northeast of Lansing.

Yesterday, I made the half-hour journey with my mother and brother from my parents’ house to the state park. We rode around the park and marveled at the scenery. The water was still and the colorful trees reflected in the water.

It was a fairly easy ride for me . . . to start with. I rode with my brother, Tom, for about an hour. He was riding a mountain bike, so I was holding back quite a bit as Jake, all pimped out with slick road tires, wanted to be unleashed on the pavement. When Tom and I made our way to the park entrance, I took off for a quick out-and-back ride on the nearby roads. Details: 1 hour 35 minutes, God only knows how many miles. I’ll have to break out an e-map to estimate my mileage.

Many of you are way too familiar with the following:

There is a VERY good reason why I reposted this video, even though you may be quite sick of it by now. Actually, there are three reasons. Many of you are quite aware of my history with attack squirrels. Never have I dealt with such evil creatures as I did yesterday.

Squirrel incidence #1. As Tom and I were riding down a road within the park, a squirrel ran in front of me without any regard to the presence of me and Jake.

Squirrel incidence #2. As Tom and I were approaching the park entrance from within the park, a little squirrel ran out in front of me and barely missed my front tire. His reaction to me and Jake was to throw his nut and run back to the side of the road from which he came. As it happened, my reaction was something like, “Oh, HELL NO, you little sh!t! Get the hell out of here!” Tom was a little ways behind me. As he approached the site of the offense, the little squirrel returned to retrieve its nut.

Squirrel incidence #3. Shortly after I turned onto Shepardsville Road, near the beginning of my solo ride, just as I was achieving a fairly respectable speed, a squirrel launched from a nearby tree from about 15 to 20 feet above me and landed just to the side of my bike and ran in front of me. Little #!*&!!! Seriously! I saw Mr. Squirrel’s trajectory as he aimed to pounce on me!

You guys think I’m joking when I write about squirrels, but I am serious when I say that there is a foundation for the Moronacity campaign against squirrels (M.C.A.S).

Last night, I brought a growler of Brickshot ESB home from the Rochester Mills Beer Company:

All I can say is, “DAMN! That is one helluva a brew!”

I knew I was going to drink this growler, tonight. In fact, I am drinking it as I write this. No, I am not drunk. I am halfway through the first glass. I know many of you like to attribute my best work to drunkenness, but this is truly a God-given ability, even under sobriety.

Simple equation: very overweight Di + beer = guilt. The equation can be changed, however. Think: very overweight Di + beer + long, hard road ride = less guilt and lots of malty and hoppy bliss. Oh, yes. This is why I ride.

I convinced my brother to drive me and my mom to the Saginaw Valley Rail Trail. Mom and Tom took off to complete their 19-mile ride. After two miles, I decided to do each segment twice. I didn’t see them until mile seven, and I still had to do repeats of the next couple of miles.

At some point during my ride, I passed two guys on road bikes. They looked like regular riders. The real trip is that I recognized the guy I looked squarely in the face, and I could’ve sworn that the other guy was wearing a Team Singlespeed kit that I saw out of the corner of my eye. Later in the ride, I yelled at them when they were returning and, lo and behold, we knew who each other was! I ran into the two fellas on the right:

The guy on the left is why we know each other.

I finished my 35-mile ride in two hours and 13 minutes. My mom and brother had been waiting 20 minutes in Tom’s truck. Whoops. Either way, I got a great a workout and I was free to drink beer.

Yeah, even the Shiawassee County squirrels are suicidal. I was climbing a hill on Bancroft Road when a squirrel decided to run in front of me. It was cool because there was plenty of clearance between me and Mr. Squirrel. It was Mr. Squirrel’s friend who chose to dive-bomb in front of my wheel in an effort to graze the tire. All I really know is that both of us had an “Oh, shit!” look on our faces. He hastily fumbled across the road to escape the wrath of Jake the Snake.

I had fun riding into Durand and getting pictures of the place where I spent my early childhood. I toured the city of trains and ended it with lunch at Subway. That’s kind of funny if you think about it, although the only subway Durand has is the fast food joint. My stomach was nagging me for food, so I had to stop. After lunch, I finished my tour with 35 minutes of riding into a headwind to return to my parents’ house. My total time out was two hours and 37 minutes, including 10 minutes for lunch.

I took a lot of photos, so I am going to divide this into a multi-part photo essay.

The city limit sign includes the marching band championship years. My brother was a percussionist for the Durand Marching Band in the 1980s. They champs even then.

Optimist park is where I used to play when I was a kid. There used to be a monster wooden bridge in the field, but that has long since been gone. There are two ball fields.

The basketball court used to be filled with water to make an ice rink. That is where the local kids would play hockey. My mom used to take me ice skating there. This hockey arena, complete with the building structure, is newer. Apparently, hockey has really taken off in Durand.

It shouldn’t be surprising that school buses are a part of my childhood memories.

It didn’t look like this, but this is the house I grew up in until I was in the fourth grade. We moved out to the country in November of 1986.

There were some trails behind our old neighborhood. This particular trail has always been there and runs along “the creek”—Three Mile Creek—and ends at the train tracks.

Snake Mountain used to be part of the trails. There are still trails nearby where kids continue to build dirt jumps. I guess I really got my start mountain biking on a banana-seat Huffy.

Candy. Need I say more? We kids used to go to the Southside Market for candy, candy, candy. It had the best selection. It was Heaven.

This started off as the Durand High School. When the new high school was built, it was changed into the Durand Junior High. They now have a new school and I’m not quite sure what is being done with this building.

Today brought sunshine, a light breeze, and perfect temperatures. I headed up to (ha ha) St. Charles with my parents and my brother. St. Charles marks a trailhead for the Saginaw Valley Rail Trail. This particular rail trail is a flat, paved, 9 ½-mile trail that runs through farmland in the Saginaw Valley (are you getting the part where this is in the Saginaw Valley?). Most of this trail is lined with thick, luscious, green trees with some parts running along open woods with nicely spaced trees that allow the sunshine to meet the ground. It is a view that is most certainly enjoyable.

The St. Charles trailhead is near a little park with swings and a slide. The rail trail starts with an old train bridge crossing a river. My family told me it was a flat trail, so I thought to myself, “Self, this is going to be an easy ride after yesterday’s hard mountain bike rides and a crash.”

Today, my shoulders are sore from climbing hills that I’m not used to. My right quadricep hurts where it had a lovely meeting with my handlebar. I walk like Dr. House. I thought it would be a good idea simply to take Jake out for a nice ride. Of course, an easy ride really is not in my nature. I decided to set a comfortable, yet moderately high intensity pace. My speed was pretty steady for the length of the trail – between 17 and 20 mph. My breathing was somewhat labored, but I was able to speak without much effort, and many people caught me smiling.

Somewhere in the middle of the trail was a little flower garden with a bench and a bike rack. The rail trail splits and encircles this little park. I chose to ride by on my way to Saginaw. On my return to St. Charles, I stopped, parked Jake, and took a few pictures. It really is a nice addition to this paved path.

The trail wasn’t crowded, but there were many people out walking, running, and riding their bikes. I was very excited to see all kinds of people riding. There were people like my parents: senior citizens out for general fitness. There were women of all ages and guys who seemed about my age. The funny part is that the women all seemed to be on social rides, talking with their riding companions. The guys were all riding solo. Some were out for a fun ride while others were more serious. Some were dressed in cycling clothing, like me, and some were wearing heart rate monitors.

There were obese people and black people (save the PC argument for another day). These are two groups I am especially happy to see on the rail trail because these are the groups that suffer most from cardiovascular disease. I take cardiovascular disease very seriously because many of my patients come to me for an ultrasound assessment of their arteries. I see how it can be debilitating and I have to accommodate these people. For this reason, I want to see everyone on a bike. This is why I like seeing these people on the rail trail. I like seeing people of all shapes and sizes. Many of them get into better shape than I. They become happy, healthy people.

One thing that I noticed about all of the people on this rail trail is that they all seemed to be very happy. Most people nodded and smiled and some just looked like they were having a great time, like me. I wasn’t the only one riding with a smile plastered on my face.

I passed over another train bridge toward the Saginaw end of the trail. A ramp and landing was built alongside it to offer the rail trail users a view of the river. It was surrounded by beautiful woods. A train track headed for the rail trail and turned to run alongside it at the end of the trail. On my return from the Saginaw trailhead, I saw a great view of the two pathways. There was even a train parked on the track.

There were tons of birds. I saw lots of robins. I even saw a tufted titmouse. I had to ask mom what kind of bird this was. I’m sure most of you have no idea. A tufted titmouse is shaped like a blue jay, is a little smaller, and is brown in color, kind of like the color of red hair.

Instead of the suicidal squirrels that are always on the trail to sabotage my mountain bike ride, I saw lots of little chipmunks. Many chippies would simply sit on the side of the rail trail and watch me go by. One decided to run from the far side of the trail and graze the front of my front tire. I felt a vibration, but decided that I didn’t run it over. Maybe I got its tail. My point is, you have to watch out for the chippies on this rail trail. They see a skinny road tire and think, “Ah ha!” You know what I’m talking about.

The total trail distance, out and back, was 19 miles. I did the whole things in an hour and a half. I decided to turn around and find my family. Five miles later, I met them. I turned around to head back to the trailhead at a nice, leisurely 15-mph pace. This was my cool down. I made it back to the trail head about ten minutes before they did, so I went over to the little park and swung. I love swings.

All-in-all, it was a good day. I had a great time doing my no-hill ride. This isn’t exactly something I have the pleasure of doing up in the Keweenaw. I found myself thinking, “Wow, I wish we had something like this in Houghton.” Even though I pushed myself, it was still a nice recovery ride after yesterday’s trail antics.

I looked out the window, yesterday, and saw some little birds flying around my trees. It took about two seconds for me to realize that I hadn’t seen birds for a couple of months. It has been too cold and snowy, and I don’t feed them so there is no reason for them to hang around.

The thermometer reached 38°F, today, and I saw the little birds, again. It is a repeat of yesterday. Over the last few days, snow has been melting. It has been crashing off of my metal roof. It has taken on the brown color of the sand used to give us traction on our roads. It is really kind of gross if you think about it. Thinking about it is exactly what I did.

Really, what else would a girl like me do on a sloppy, dirty day? It didn’t take too long to figure it out. I ran upstairs, grabbed a bandana, and fit it to my head. I grabbed a base layer shirt, cycling jersey, cycling shorts, ski pants, cycling socks, and a windbreaker. Then, I searched for all of my can’t-ride-withouts: multi-tool, tire levers, spare tube, pump, cell phone (turned off), and two water bottles. I was prepared. Now, it was time to prepare Jake.

I went out to my porch (screened-in with a roof) and pulled Jake out of a corner. I gently leaned him up against a chair and lubed his chain. The cyclocross tires were already on, so I pumped them up to 50 psi (minimum for those tires). As a finishing touch, I added a second water bottle cage. Everything was set.

Jake and I began our ride with a hike-a-bike along my driveway. The thick, slushy mess was too much for Jake’s narrow tires. Once we reached the end of the driveway (1/4 mile), I mounted my trusty bike and headed out for a rather enthusiastic ride. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t ridden my bike since mid-December. I thought a small, ~22-mile loop wouldn’t be that bad, and I expected it to take about 90 minutes – enough time to ride, shower, and get to class.

The biggest decision I had to make was which way to go on this loop. There is a stretch along Lake Superior, and it is sandwiched by two roads that descend to the lake. Naturally, I would have to climb one of these roads, but which one? One of the roads has a couple of small uphills on the way down to the lake, so I would coast-climb-coast-climb. The other one has no hill changes except steep versus not-so-steep. It is the latter road that I chose to climb away from the lake. Just to give you some perspective, this road is a 2-mile climb. Yeah, I was feeling a bit confident.

By the time I reached the top of the climb, I was ready for home. My stomach was starting to nag me for food. I headed back down the hill via the second road, mostly descending with a little easy climbing. I had a little fun trying to sprint on the descents and reached 30 mph at one point. Once I reached the bottom, I hit the home stretch. It was time to climb back to my house. Yes, it is uphill almost the whole way.

I made it home, safely, and quickly got some food. I was a little surprised to find that my 90-minute, 22-mile ride was actually a 2.5 hour, 24.3 mile ride. That’s not too shabby. Unfortunately, I missed my first two classes and had to rush to make it to the third. All-in-all, it turned out to be a great day, and I got to ride my bike. You really can’t ask for much more than that.