Nightglow Window

There And Back Again

It's important not to be selfish, but you have to carve out some personal time for yourself.

I've been thinking about going on a long bike ride for a few weeks. It seems a bit self-centered in that it's a long, solo activity.

But my tour bike is back from the shop (new pedals, saddle, shifters, and a general tune up) and is begging for some attention. So I lit out this morning, heading for San Clemente.

I leave at 6:45 a.m., and the fog is thick in Carlsbad. I have to wipe my glasses by the time I reach the bottom of Tamarack and pass over the freeway. Soon, though, the sun is poking out and blue sky is forming.

I cross into Camp Pendleton where I have to show my ID at the gate to the precise young MP ("Have a good day sir!"). It's a great ride through camp, and I'm past the San Onofre Power Plant by 8:30 a.m.

Seems silly to be so close to Trestles without taking a look, so I cut left at the county line and coast to the coast—to Cotton's Point to be exact. I push my bike up the beach through the thick sand. It's a stellar morning now: low 70s, clear, blue skies and water, no wind. The only complaint (if I was looking for one) is that the surf is tiny.

Oh well.

I don't feel like pushing my bike through the sand anymore, so I duck into the tony neighborhood of Cyprus Shore and have a bite to eat on a stone bench in the park.

It's such a beautiful spot, with green grass, the smell of the ocean, and the sound of flowing water from a nearby fountain/stream. The round stones of the bench feel cool on my sweaty back. I snap a few photos and then head south again.

I was pretty strong heading north, only three cyclists passed me, but the story is different now. I hang in survival stance through Camp Pendleton, getting my gumption up only when a group of about 30 riders breeze by and I jump into the tail end of their group. That lasts about two miles until they slowly, inexorably leave me in the dust.

I'm lagging by mile 50, as I head out of Camp Pendleton, but it's a gorgeous day and once I'm on the beachfront streets of Oceanside I downshift and stop trying so hard.

Relax. Cruise.

Dolphins play in the lineup and one grey bullet shoots just under the face of a wave and then bursts out into the air—powerful, fast, graceful, stunning.

Mile 60 is the hardest as I crawl up the hill to my house, sweat pouring, left knee hurting a wee bit, but feeling okay otherwise.

I pant like a dog for the last 100 yards, tongue hanging out, and then rouse the whole of E.P. Avenue with my loud, mis-aligned brakes as I finally spot home.

Back at noon. Quick shower and then a pool party for Gui-Gui, one of Hannah's friends from Discovery Island.

It's great to catch up again with all the parents, hear about their kid's first week of first grade. We’ve all scattered to the four winds now, since Carlsbad has eight elementary schools. I linger far longer than typical, content to talk and sit by the pool, while the girls splash and giggle about their pruned fingers.


Beware of Tanks.


The view looking up to Cotton's Point.


I'm just going to stay here forever.


The pretty park at Cypress Shores. The halfway point with 30 miles to go.

Bonus Post!
In case you weren't already sick of me

I run down to Pizza Port to pick up a pizza for dinner and I could tell it was going to be a great sunset. So after eating, Sydney and I hightail it down to Warm Water Jetties--a surf spot by the Carlsbad power plant--to catch the show. (Hannah and Christy decide to stay home.)

It wasn't "all time," but the sunset is pretty neat. Especially when Sydney sits down next to me and puts her arm around me and says, "This is a lot of fun."

I couldn't agree more.