When the Grass is Actually Greener on the Other Side

The date:  New Year's Day, 2013.  The place: A closed, unobtrusive road in North (but, technically central) Luxembourg.  The mood: cold, wet, windy, and silent as the grave.

Besides the date, on paper this wasn't supposed to be a game changing ride.  It was a recon ride, planned to scope out the trail and road conditions after two straight weeks of rain and subsequent flooding along the Alzette River.  It had been a while since either of us had ridden anywhere and this ride would also serve as an easy leg stretcher.  Nothing crazy.  It wasn't supposed to be interesting and with the cold rain and nasty winter wind it wasn't even supposed to be very enjoyable either.

Besides the usual recommitments to health that get tossed around this time of year, I wanted the fire back.  The fire for the bike, my bike, that I had lost somewhere between moving overseas, figuring things out, wrecking and healing, looking for myself, and running around like crazy.  Life had been about where we were and all those doors that got opened because of it.  My bikes knew that I had lost my fire for them in favor of road trips, cameras, acrylics, and interesting cuisine.  I couldn't look them in the eye.  If you know bicycles, really know bicycles, you know what I'm talking about.

I didn't know how I was going to get that fire back, but I can tell you one thing, it wasn't supposed to show up on a recon ride of the daily commute route.  We rode south, as always, a few towns down to where my husband's office is along the same old bike path, him on his mountain bike and me on the Trek, a.k.a Rain Bike.

I'm going to be honest with you, I never liked this route.  Sure, half of it is on dedicated bicycle trails which are supposed to be the best things ever.  But, between the constant trail closures due to one construction project after another and the daily encounters with wacked out pedestrians, getting to hop on the road in a few places became a welcomed break.  At least the drivers were predictable-ish.  Riding this way had become a chore and a daily frustration and I imagine it had something to do with that fire going out.  The thought of another year riding this way wasn't exactly inspiring.  I actually groaned as we rolled across the bridge that connects our town to the bike path thinking of all the joys I will get to experience on this passage over the next twelve months.  Today, however, no one, and I mean no one, was out.  For once there weren't unsupervised children jumping out in front of my wheel, no dogs roaming around off leash, no zoned out grannies swerving back and forth with their shopping carts filled to the brim with baguettes and bad moods, no pot smoking teenagers that are incapable of sliding out of the way so you can pass, and none of those puzzling characters that respond with befuddlement and panic to the sound of one's bell or appearance around a bend.  The bike path, for once, was for cyclists and it was ours.

We arrived at the turn around point without incident.  As we started to head back the way we came, my husband said, "You know, a while ago I spotted this road on the other side of the river.  It's not supposed to be open to traffic, but I think it's cool for bikes.  Want to check it out?"  Sure, what the heck, we might actually have some fun.  Cycling is supposed to be fun.

Off we went.  A barrier was across the road which warned of flooding.  As the river had receded somewhat in the past couple of days, we decided to give it a shot anyway and swung around the barrier.  The road turned off the main thoroughfare and passed along the guard house and imposing wall of Berg Castle, the early 20th Century built monstrosity that serves as the private residence for the Grand Ducal family.  Past the castle, the road turns into a new development which is providing endless amusements for the local construction enthusiasts.  After that, the road is downgraded to local access, meaning it is not supposed to be used for people looking for a back way into Ettelbruck (not that it stops them from trying).  The road itself shrinks from proper two lanes to 1.5, if that.  The surface hasn't seen a paver since at least 1990 and it is full of holes, fissures, lumps and bumps.  It's perfect.

Then, there's this spot.  It isn't a secret.  You can see it from the highway quite clearly.  Nevertheless, it's something you only really enjoy from a bike saddle.  Up above the road sits a big old manor house, mostly shuttered and weather beaten but it has a roof and a story.  Someone still owns it and despite its forgotten looks, it isn't open for curious exploration.  No trespassing, reads the sign on the stately sandstone gate.  It was a baronial residence, now a private one that still has a touch of mystery about it.  Why was the bridge to the town destroyed?  Did it have a part to play in the goings on of the 1940's?  Does anyone still live in the old place or do they prefer one of the other buildings in the back? The answers aren't important.  The point is, there was something about sitting out on a barely there road, on a cheerless New Year's afternoon, in front of a melancholy old manor house that ignited a spark.

This is cool.  Here I am riding my bike.  In Europe.  Past two castles in a matter of minutes.  Look at this! This road is splendid.  No cars.  No people.  I can ride as fast or as slow as I want and there isn't going to be someone on my butt or in my way every 2 yards.  There's just a farm, some cows, and a couple of really awesome buildings.  Look at those dramatic clouds! When was the last time you had a chance to enjoy the clouds? We can ride this way every single day!  We don't need to through the pain and agony of the bike path anymore! This is fun, actually fun.  I feel happy.

I guess you can say that ride was pretty huge in a meaningful kind of way.  All of sudden, cycling was starting to get exciting again, like it hadn't in a long time.  I couldn't wait for the next day when I would ride this way again.  And the next day.  And the next.  Let me tell you, I've ridden this route almost every day since last Tuesday and so far it is still just as awesome as the first time we put our tires on that washed out pavement.  It has me itching to ride again, not only because it is a gorgeous little route, but also because it is peaceful.  Peace is a powerful thing.

That ride of the New Year changed everything. Everything.  The fire to ride here, there and everywhere is back.  I can look my bikes in the eye again.  We're cool.

"Rain Bike, let's head out for a little quiet spin past some castles to the office, shall we?  Same time again tomorrow?  Hey, while we're at it, do you want to check out the health food shop in the next village and schelp a big jar of coconut oil home?  Yeah, there's going to be some nasty little hills, some impatient motorists around the city center, and a handful of squirrelly pedestrians, but there's that sweet roundabout on the downhill.  I don't care who you are, that's just plain fun!  Hey Revenio, I know the weather is disgusting and you like to stay pretty, but aren't you sick of sitting on the trainer?  Want to hit the road this Saturday and get 20 miles or so in ya for the New Year? Yeah?  I thought so.  I promise to make you pretty again when we get home.  If you're up for it, how about a ride in Belgium next weekend?  Keep your eye on the weather forecast.  Don't worry Varsity, we're gonna replace that saddle bracket straight away.  Soon as the days dry out, you'll be making the run to the office too.  Don't tell the others, but I have a sneaky feeling we're going to have the most fun."*

Besides just having the fire to ride, the spark to ride better has also been ignited.  I'm paying attention to distance, heart rate and even cadence, something I never really did before.  If there's one thing I learned last year, it's that an injury can not only take you out of the game for a while, it can ruin the year.  It can put out fires.  While not all injuries can be avoided, riding smart can prevent a lot of them.  A bike is only as good as its engine and my poor bikes have been cheated out of a decent one for a while.  No more.  Suddenly, I'm looking at foods not so much on how they're going to go down, but how they're going to fuel, maintain, lighten, and streamline the engine that powers the bikes.  Smoothies actually taste good when you know they're all part of the process for better rides.  And, at the end of the day my legs feel good, not dead, and I'm sleeping a solid 8 every night.

Sometimes all it takes is the other side of the river to provide a little enlightenment and a fresh start.  Before, I was riding through pedestrian congestion, parking lots, factories and train stations.  I felt squeezed in, held back, and frustrated.  Now, I'm in open fields that are all to myself.  I'm getting some air and the sights are pretty awesome too.  The effects of crossing to the other side of the river are far reaching.  It's a new point of view that provided a new outlook on life.

I suspect 2013 is going to be a very good year.  I hope it is for you as well.  If not, try the other side of the river.  You may be surprised.




*By the way, it is perfectly acceptable to have conversations with your bicycle.  Don't let anyone tell you different.  They don't get it.