Let’s do the math on what I have to do to mountain bike for say a 10+ mile loop: for about 75 minutes of fun and excitement I have to spend about 100 minutes in a car driving back and forth. That’s not great. I’m spending more time driving to said thing than actually doing said thing.

Is that really worth it? Is it so much fun to ride a bike on dirt trails in a municipal park with the chance of seeing some wildlife that you’ll blow two hours driving, spend $10 in gas, and fret over your carbon footprint?

Um….yes. It’s just once a week really, sometimes two. It’s really enjoyable and fulfilling. So…yes, it is.

Judge away.

First of all, from a time perspective, I can manage that. The drive up during the morning sunrise, despite the flat, featureless land, was peaceful while the beauty of nature seeped in to my life. I was able to be quiet and reflect a little. It wasn’t time completely wasted. I did do a call on the way back and ate/drink, so a little multi-tasking may have been valuable. I was back at my desk by 10am easy.

Second, about the expense and carbon footprint, I’m going to have to think more about those. I live in a small-ish (40,000), rural town so the expense of driving an hour to a metropolitan area like Toledo for stuff is just a normal part of life. That doesn’t make it right, but there are countless other ways I save $/carbon because life is simpler here. If I put pen to paper it just may be a wash. I’m running with that.

I need this in my life right now.

It was a beautiful summer Saturday with the sun blazing but not too hot. The trail is almost all off-street and decent. There were some bumpy areas, but it was just fine.

We hit two outdoor spaces in Ypsilanti with great java, solid brews, and killer food. We spent some time hanging out by the Huron River and were impressed with how the locals embrace their summer Saturdays.

Jenny (my sister) decided that this hot, steamy Wednesday would be a good time for an evening trip to the Findlay Reservoir. We loaded three families into three cars and parked in the east central lot between the Blanchard River and Upground Reservoir Number Two.

On the way back to the car I spotted this bald eagle hanging out in a dead tree next to the river. The sun was to our backs and the sky was dark from a recent rain. The evening was windless and quiet. The only movement you could see in the eagle was an occasional head movement, which you sensed more than actually saw, as the white disappeared and reappeared. The picture doesn’t do it justice. It was all pretty awesome.

Here’s a screen snap from my booktracker spreadsheet in Google Docs. The highlighted percentages are the number of “pages” consumed. I’m not proud of this. I guess I’ll shoot for 50/50 split going forward, but I have a lot of making up to do.

I had a fun ride on this steamy July 4th. This pilot was visiting with someone near a farmhouse and he started taxiing down the grass runway while I was on the road parallel. It was kind of cool to watch. It was some sort of vintage Navy plane I think because I saw the word “NAVY” with some numbers after it.

We’re going to need to burn some calories to justify the late lunch at White Fence Farm on the way home.

All total, I was out from about 7:45am to 6:30pm. That was a little longer than I had expected, but that’s mostly because the day, the crowd, and the venue kicked ass, I thought. The actual 10 mile hike went from about 10am – 5pm I think.

The 8am bodyweight PT at Eckhart Park was attended only by Gail and I. That’s fine, I didn’t expect anybody to show up that early. I do, however, encourage participation the bodyweight PT sessions because Eckhart Park has a very nice, soft surface and it’s important to get some upper body focused fitness in. Just think about it next time.

The meeting point at Big Shoulders Coffee felt right; it always feels right. Suburbanites and city dwellers seemed to have an easy time getting there and the free coffee was flowing. I love that place with the big windows and open, modern interior and the classic Chicago poem by Carl Sandburg. Tim the owner was generous to offer this up and I think our crowd of around 15 was pretty manageable. Thanks to Kathy behind the counter for kicking off a day of great service. Many thanks.

The first leg of five miles took about 15 minutes longer than I expected. I kind of miscalculated on that. But the delay allowed Pete and Marla to see their daughter off to the beach, so that was an added bonus. Our arrival time at Spacca Napoli was just before the lunch rush so we were able to snag a sweet outdoor table.

I screwed up by not getting on top of the Spacca Napoli seating situation. That’s my fault and I apologize in general. However, the guy running the show at Spacca did us up right and gave us the best of all possible options – a huge, 15 seat table outdoors on a beautiful late spring day. Wow.

I think I echo the group by saying that our waiter at Spacca was absolutely stupendous. I wish I knew his name because he deserves a medal. He was knowledgeable, patient, caring, and spot-on with recommendations. The Brouilly (chilled, red wine) was a great call and it paired perfectly with the spicy Diavola and the creamy Margherita pizza. There was nothing to take home. We dominated the pizza, salads, and burrata.

Then it was off to Half Acre for a beer. I had the Space IPA and it was killer. The place was absolutely rocking but getting a beer was very easy despite the crowd. Seats turned over quickly so we enjoyed about half our beer sitting down. I love the etched wood wall-covering and the modern feel. They are serious professionals.

Then we headed to Begyle for beer round #2. Begyle had a completely different feel from Half Acre but it was just as enjoyable. I went for the IPA again and had the Hophazardly. Again, killer. It was less crowded and more intimate, we pulled a couple of tables together and even made friends with dog seated at the next table. Nice folks. Reminded me of a damn beer commercial, but with better beer.

The last five miles were a slog down Damen, broken up by a bathroom break at the Golfsmith at Diversey. That’s actually the closest I’ve been to playing golf all year.

Finally we ended up at Black Dog Gelato and celebrated with more consumption. The granting of the urban hike patches came after the last scoop of gelato was consumed. Peter and Leticia still had a five mile bike ride back north, bless them. Way to go urban warriors!

That’s not a photobomb by Val, she earned the patch. Oh, and thanks Val for the post walk beers, I love the Woody. Thanks everybody for hanging out with Gail and I for most of the day.

Your feedback is much appreciated. It didn’t feel like a long day to me, but I’d be interested to hear if you thought it was too long. When we were just north of Black Dog I heard someone say, “It’s about 5:00,” and I was a little shocked. I’d also like any ideas on future hikes.

Great day! Thanks everybody.

• 20 reps each, one trip through
• 3 burpees after each (51 total)

1. Push-ups
2. Squats
3. Atomic sit-ups
4. Alternate lunges
5. Push-ups (round 2)
6. Crabsters
7. Planksters
8. Squat jumps
9. Yanos
10. L sit scissors
11. HIALS
12. Plank toe taps
13. Rocket girls
14. Squat toe taps
15. Sit-ups
16. Side plank stars
17. Side lunges

It should take less than a half hour. That gives me a half hour to cool down and stretch, and maybe change shirts, before meeting at Big Shoulders Coffee. I don’t expect anybody to show up for this and it’s technically not part of the hike. But I’m putting it out there, if you’re interested.

• 9:15am – Big Shoulders Coffee Arrive
• 10:00am – Big Shoulders Coffee Depart
• walk 5-ish miles
• 11:30am – Spacca Napoli Pizzeria (lunch hour)
• 12:45pm – Half Acre Beer Company Tap Room
• 1:15pm – Begyle Brewing Tap Room
• walk 5-ish miles
• 3:00pm – Black Dog Gelato

You may notice that I haven’t included any bodyweight PT in the hike. Don’t worry, I’m still going to do it, but it’s going to happen before the hike. I’ll be at Eckhart Park at 8:00am and will be doing a half hour workout. I’ll post the workout separately.

There are some surprises on the way also, including free stuff! I’ll get back to you.

Elmore Leonard’s westerns are different from his crime novels in that they’re usually shorter – written more like a screenplay (seems like almost all of them have been made into movies). They’re also considerably less humorous and even the dark characters don’t have a lighter side.

The main character, Valdez, goes to war with a criminal and it’s not pretty. Here’s the passage at the half way point that set the tone for the war:

Valdez smiled. “Pray for me.”

A little while later they watched him leave to begin his war: the Valdez from another time, the Valdez in leather chivarra pants and the long-barreled Walker Colt on his right thigh, carrying his shotgun and a Sharps carbine and field glasses and a big canteen and a warbag for the ham and biscuits, the Valdez no one had seen in ten years. (page 106)

I shut the book at this point, took a break somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico, and smiled. This is gonna be good, I said to myself.

It was.

Robicheaux is a thoughtful police man with a lot of demons. Here is his take on how a member of the force can evolve:

After you’re a police officer for a while, you encounter certain temptations. They come to you as seductions do, in increments, a teaspoon at a time, until you discover you made an irrevocable hard left turn down the road someplace and you wake up one morning in a moral wasteland with no idea who you are.

I’m not talking about going on a pad, ripping off dope from an evidence locker, or taking juice from dealers, either. Those temptations are not inherent in the job; they’re in the person.

The big trade-off is in one’s humanity. The discretionary power of a police officer is enormous, at least in the lower strata of society, where you spend most of your time. You start your career with the moral clarity of the youthful altruist, then gradually you begin to feel betrayed by those you supposedly protect and serve. You’re not welcome in their part of town; you’re lied to with regularity, excoriated, your cruiser Molotoved. The most venal bail bondsman can walk with immunity through neighborhoods where you’ll be shot at by snipers.

You begin to believe there are those in our mist who are not part of the same gene pool. You think of them as subhuman, morally deceased, or, at best, as caricatures whom you treat in custody as you would humorous circus animals (page 38).

That passage struck me as timely and I wonder how real it is.

Then near the end there was this conversation between Robicheaux and a religious counsleor at his AA meeting:

“It’s all this, isn’t it?” he says. “We’re still standing in the same space we grew up but we don’t recognize it any more. It’s like other people own it now.”

“Yes.”

“Dave, when we say the Serenity Prayer about acceptance, we have to mean it. I can absolve sins but I can’t set either one of us free from the nature of time.”

“It has nothing to do with time. It’s what we’ve allowed them to do — all of them, the dope traffickers, the industrialists, the politicians. We gave up without even a fight.”

“I’m all out of words,” he says, and lays his hand on my shoulder. It has the weightlessness of an old man’s. He looks at the empty diamond with a private thought in his eyes, one that he knows his listener is not ready to hear (page 315).

Deep stuff.

There are some really sinister villains in this series, but you don’t fear for Robicheaux’s life because you know he lives. It’s his family you worry about! Scary.