Riding Back from Grand Rapids

This has become a thing—for almost 12 years. I believe my first ride home from the Festival of Faith and Writing in the always unpredictable month of April—the weather, that is. I’ve had snow, sleet, rain (of course!) and sometimes too much heat. Heading home to Chicago, the ride took 4 days. It’s much more manageable going back to Okemos.

Once again, I took Indian Trails up, prepped bike and took off for my host’s house—fabulously only 3 streets over from Calvin University, making getting back and forth during the Festival easy peasy.

There’s always surprises at the Festival, small delights and big discoveries around books and authors I’m not acquainted with—same goes for this year. I’ve often wondered: does timing matter? The algorithm is all over the place. Upon first arriving, the energy is there, while on Saturday the last day, the emotional levels are depleted. Am I more open to the universe at the beginning or end? Just like the Michigan spring—there’s no predicting.

The beginning of the Festival was punctuated by strong nightly storms, while the last day descended into bone-chilling wind and passing showers. I thought we were done with the cold. Anyway, I had the waterproofs and a fleece, reinforcing what they say in Scandinavia, there is no bad weather, just bad clothes. On the last day, right after the evening plenary I jumped on my bike, laden with saddle bags, and rode about 10 miles to a friend’s house in Ada. A good test for the following day.

On Sunday after a gut-filling breakfast of homemade bread, frittata, and sausage I got started. Temps in the upper 30s. They would only ride a few degrees to around 44, but the wind! Luckily it was blowing in the same direction I was going, mostly east and somewhat south.

I really needed these miles to test my mettle as I’m going to be riding the Pacific Coast in about 6 weeks and have done almost NOTHING in regards to training ie sitting on the bike and pedaling. The bio-mechanics necessary for a long-distance tour.

The Sunday before I did 25 miles and though everything was fine, I suffered from saddle soreness—not something easily sloughed off. For my ride home, I greased up and was sure to take a few butt breaks for blood flow to try to avoid neuropathy. Over all, okay—but my feet ended up feeling cramped and my legs were starting to turn to jelly after 60 plus miles. I can’t imagine how hard the coast is going to be with all the long, sustained climbing.

Once in Lansing, I had the intent to use the Lansing River Trail to wind home—nothing going! Underwater! I had to use a series of streets where the apportioned bike lane was worse than rubble. It was tense hanging onto the bike and dodging the potholes. 

But I made it! Home by supper time. Another Festival and ride back under my belt. I only wish I could say I’m ready for Oregon to San Francisco in early June.

with Leslie Leyland Fields, author and workshop leader