Keep on Peddlin'

I marvel at people who go on week-long bike rides through Iowa.  Distances don’t bother me.  With nothing else to do for 8-12 hours, I’m pretty sure I could do 80 miles, 100 if all the stars and planets align perfectly, which is to say no headwinds or scorching overhead sun.  AND NO HILLS.

Yesterday, I took the one area trail with real hills.  Actually, it’s two trails, the first being the Illinois Prairie Path, “prairie” being the operative word.  I start in Wheaton, college home of Billy Graham, and work my way north for about 14 miles along a tree-canopied path that brushes a whole lot of wetlands.  I turn left at the big dairy farm in South Elgin; say Hello to the cows (they actually lift up their heads to looks as I pass them); switch over to the Fox River Trail; and prepare myself for the two rises.  Springsteen ought to write a song.

The first rise is maybe a third of a mile long, give or take (and I’m inclined to give).  Ten years ago, when I first started doing the trail, I’d get maybe halfway up from the river before throwing in the towel.  Now, I do it or die trying.  Since I’m still here, I must’ve done it yesterday.  The payoff comes at the end of the rise.

The trail there follows along a rural road.  After a thousand feet or so, I can stop peddling because everything turns into a gentle descent.  Eventually, I’m doing anywhere between 20-25 mph downhill, whizzing along to the second rise, because the trail insists on following the Fox.  Only this rise isn’t.

It’s more of a switchback; think of a flight of stairs, a landing, then another flight.  I finish that (and it’s no more than 20 minutes after the first rise), and my thighs have gone to Jello.  One problem, though, is I have about another 15-20 miles of riding to do to get back to Wheaton.  I do it because someone has to spit into the wind, but I can’t imagine a day of challenging the rolling landscape of Iowa.  At the end of the day, I’m just a flatlander, thank you very much.