What a long, strange trip it was, thanks in part to Google

Late yesterday I rode into the tiny, Northern Michigan hamlet of Stony Lake, bringing to a close GeezerThon 2010, the cross-state bicycle ride I began exactly a week ago near Port Huron. Stony Lake is one of the loveliest communities on earth and the residents around these parts wouldn’t be happy if they knew I was sharing this news with the world. They prefer things as they are and are understandably under-whelmed by the notion of additional “summer people.”

At any rate, those who know me are no doubt amazed I managed to find my way from the state’s east coast to the west. I have been known to get lost going from the living room to the kitchen.

I am—to put it kindly—directionally challenged.

So how did I manage to traverse the long, rural miles between there and here without becoming hopelessly disoriented? In a word: Google. More specifically, Google Maps.

Google Maps is one of the wonders of the modern world, far as I’m concerned. BlackBerry in hand, all I had to do each morning was punch in my destination for the day, let Google Maps’ GPS thingy figure out where I was at the moment, and voila, my route appeared on-screen, planned out in full and taking into account the fact I was traveling via bicycle.

All I had to do was turn when my phone told me to turn and I would wind up where I needed to be before sunset.

That’s the theory, at least. Problem is, Google Maps for bicycles is in “beta” release at the moment. That’s Google’s way of saying, “It’ll probably get you there, but you may encounter a few surprises along the way.”

I did.

First off, I discovered that when you tell GM you’re on a bike it tries to route you to bicycle trails as often as possible. This is a good thing and a bad thing. Paved trails make for a pleasant ride, but some of the trails I encountered are meant for BMX or dirt bikes, the sort with big, knobby tires ridden by guys in their 20s who love to burst over rugged, hilly terrain while shouting “Yee-haw!” at the top of their lungs.

These trails are not meant for geezers riding skinny-tired road bikes loaded with 150-pounds of gear. Portions of my trip wound up being more mountain-climb than bicycle ride.

Worse still, GM for bikes doesn’t rate the, um, quality of the neighborhoods through which it routes you. It would be wrong to mention the town I’m thinking of by name, but there are portions of Muskegon through which an old guy of European descent should not be riding an expensive bicycle loaded with personal belongings.

While waiting there for a red light, a couple young gentlemen asked if I would be willing to share with them the contents of my wallet. There was only seven bucks cash in there, but I declined anyway. They decided it wasn’t worth their trouble to shoot me and the incident ended without further excitement.

I pedaled (quickly) away as they shared a few last minute thoughts regarding my mother.

Despite these problems I still consider Google Maps a wonder of modern technology. Next trip, though, I may follow its suggestions somewhat less faithfully.

More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.

My eyes are bigger than my athletic abilities

“Your eyes are bigger than your belly!” I heard my mother’s words every Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthday; any occasion that merited a table laden with holiday food.

She was right, of course. I would see her miraculous, succulent repast and fall instantly beneath its gastronomical spell. A fork lift was usually employed to move my plate around, even after I’d finished eating. I never came close to ingesting all the food I piled there.

My eyes were, indeed, bigger than my belly. This is no longer the case. My eyes have become squintier in recent years and my belly…well…let’s just say it is rarely described as smaller than anything any more.

The point is, to steal another aphorism from my mother’s—and most mothers’—lexicon, I had a habit of biting off more than I could chew.

As I write this, I’m about to begin day three of the cross-state bicycle ride I’ve dubbed GeezerThon 2010. So far, I’ve pedaled about 112 miles, all of it uphill (so it seems at this moment). Another 113 miles remain before me, for a total of 225 miles.

Should I decide to pedal the distance back home again (not gonna happen) the total distance of the trip would be 500 miles. But like I said, the odds of me deciding to pedal home are about equal to those of Paris Hilton deciding to become a nun.

When it comes to this bicycle tour, I’ve decided, my eyes were definitely bigger than my belly. I bit off more than I could chew.

This realization came to me yesterday afternoon, after spending eight straight hours peddling against a headwind the likes of which has not been seen since Dorothy made her ill-fated trip to Oz. I was pedaling, hard, just to get downhill! Level road was all but impossible for me. As far as pedaling uphill? Fuggidaboutit! I dismounted and walked.

That’s one of the reasons it took me over eight hours to travel just 57 miles. The other, like I mentioned earlier, was the wind.

For 57 miles I was buffeted with a gale like the hand of God admonishing me to give it up already, turn back toward home, find a nice pub and order a good cheeseburger instead of the dollar store trail mix and banana chips I’ve been living on since setting out from home three days ago. By the seventh hour, I was starting to listen.

Shortly after that, my legs gave out. I ran cross country back in school and thought I had experienced every sort of leg pain known to man, but this was something new. Both my calves seized up with Charlie Horses the size of baseballs.

I sat by the roadside, pounding and massaging the lumps of over-flexed muscle, but it still took a half-hour to assuage the pain. After that, every time I attempted to pedal, the pain returned.

So I walked the last five miles, pushing my bike which, fully loaded with all my stuff, weighs ten pounds more than a 1965 Volkswagen Beetle.

After hobbling into my campsite as black dots swam before my eyes, I erected my tent, unrolled my sleeping bag and just lay there, unmoving.

As the clouds whipped past overhead, I thought about giving it up, about calling one of the many nice folks who offered to “rescue me” should it come to that. I thought about throwing my bike into the lake. So thinking, I fell asleep.

But when I woke this morning my legs felt fine; a little wobbly, but otherwise OK. And the wind has died down a bit. It’s cold, and it looks like rain, but I can handle that.

Besides, all this riding is making my belly smaller. Maybe I can chew more than I think.

More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.

GeezerThon 2010 Update

As if I needed further proof that God, Nature and Fate are out to get me...15 seconds after my daughter, Aubreii, dropped me off at the start point of GeezerThon 2010 - my solo bicycle ride across the Great State of Michigan - the rain started. Day One and three minutes into the ride and I was soaked to the skin.

Then came the wind, with gusts nearly lifting me from the seat of my bike. If I rode north, the wind blew from the south; if I turned east the wind came from the west. It's been in my face for about 25 miles so far, but it can't find me here in Starbuck's! I may ask them if I can set my tent up in here, rather than brave the next 20 miles to Seven Lakes State Park, where I plan to spend the night.

At the moment, I'm charging my phone, laptop and self (thank you Jesus, for inventing caffeine!).

I'm hoping there's a decent eatery or general store near the campground; I'm already tired of granola bars and trail mix, the only food I packed for the trip.

Speaking of packing, I'm beginning to think bringing absolutely everything I own with me might not have been such a hot idea after all. My bike weighs about 600 pounds, and that's without me on it. Every hill feels like the north face of Kilimanjaro. And am I really going to need my entire video collection and barbell set?

Still, I'm not complaining; so far, I'm having the time of my life (knock on wood). I'm looking out the window now and it seems the rain may be slowing down. I'm sure the rest of the trip will be a piece of cake. Yup, no doubt about it.

I just wish those buzzards would stop circling overhead.