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.

My reaction to Neistat’s demonstration was, “What the hell?” followed by, “Oh my Gosh!” and finally: laughter; lots of laughter. This video is hilarious, but it demonstrates a very real problem. Bike lanes are necessary, but too many people use them for standing, parking, displaying, setting up construction tools, and other odd things. As Neistat demonstrated, even a New York City policeman parked his car in the bike lane; and yet, cyclists, according to the cop who ticketed Neistat, must always ride in the bicycle lane.

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.

My mom, brother, and I headed to MSU Bikes in East Lansing to take part in yesterday’s Ride of Silence. It was the first time my brother and mom participated in one of these rides. I did two in Houghton in previous years, but they were a little less formal than this one. Sure we rode in silence, but the end of the ride was the end of the ride. Not so with the East Lansing group who held a remembrance as all gathered on the steps of the State Capitol Building.

Michigan’s State Capitol Building was the final destination for Lansing Area Ride of Silence participants.

Of course, I had to be rebellious and headed down the steps to get some pictures of the group rather than be a part of the group. My excuse is that I was hidden behind some taller people when others were taking pictures (no lie!). With that said, it really didn’t matter that I chose to take some artistic license with the event.

The problem is that, even though I managed to get all of my bike gear and my family members to Michigan State, I left my camera in the car. Duh, Di. Fortunately, I had the famed iPhone to capture some shots. Unfortunately, it doesn’t focus very well and I apparently have issues with taking a level shot, so I had to make some corrections.

I couldn’t resist taking a picture of the Capitol building.

One of the issues I have with the Ride of Silence is that I have a hard time being silent when I am amidst a crowd of people with a common interest – or love for cycling. I did manage to shut up, but it was painful because I really wanted to socialize with all of the Mid-Michigan cyclists.

What I particularly appreciated were the bicycling public safety officers. Police from Michigan State, East Lansing, and Lansing escorted the quite large group of cyclists around the MSU campus, through East Lansing, and onward to the Capitol building. To sound like a total geek, it was neat.

Public safety officers did a great job safely guiding the Ride of Silence through East Lansing and Lansing.

After destination Capitol, the family and I headed back to MSU via the Lansing River Trail. This really is a great trail that is a fun and safe [from traffic] passage from MSU to Lansing. We were pretty hungry after our little ride, so we headed to Outback Steakhouse. Note: Outback has good food, but the beer selection sucks and the good margaritas are quite overpriced. We would have done Reno’s East, but they were PACKED.

Outback Steakhouse’s Queensland Salad is truly yummy. Notice the boomerangs on the plate.

All in all, it was a good day. As one of the event volunteers said, the Ride of Silence is held every May on the third Wednesday of the month. Mark your calendars. It really is a great experience.

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.

Ladybugs have a nasty habit of getting stuck in your jersey and helmet. Ick.

I met with Greg Cook at Sleepy Hollow State Park the day after the squirrel attacks (October 21). We did a nice road ride on some of the surrounding country roads. I am really glad that Greg had his cross tires on his bike, because he was pushing me hard. Apparently, I was also pushing him. Now, if we would’ve talked about how we were feeling, perhaps we would’ve slowed down, but I highly doubt it. That just does happen when you ride with other people.

The following is a photo essay of Sleepy Hollow State Park.

Shepardsville Road.

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.