3rd Annual Ride for the Pies

mmmmmm.....PIE!!! That's what motivated 7 of us to set off on our bikes under super sunny skies Thanksgiving Day to ride from Seattle to Fall City. I had just arrived from San Francisco that morning and had enough time to eat one of Zack's wonderful omlettes, chug some coffee, and pack my gear for the rest of the day's adventure. Unlike the previous two years' cold rain, this ride was far too easy....dry pavement....brilliant sunshine....until we dropped down Novelty Hill, through a thermocline, and into the Carnation Valley. The late afternoon temperature easily dropped 10 degrees and the frost covering the ground indicated we were in for a bone chilling evening. By the time we hit the Nestle Farms the sun had set, the moon was lighting the valley, and feet and hands were already completely numb. With about 10 miles to go we could only think of mass amounts of pie and a warm fireplace. Onward we rode, increasing our pace to get to the finish faster, but damned by the wind chill that mocked our efforts.

The moon and stars were striking as we made it to Janna's around 5:30 p.m. We thawed out in front of her fireplace and devoured the first pumpkin pie and a few rounds of beer and mulled wine. We later moved on to strawberry/rhubarb, then pecan, then more berry cobbler......mmmm.......can a tradition of riding 48 miles and eating tons of wonderful food get any better?

Today there was more brilliant sunshine, so while Zack hiked up Granite with Denny and Ash, I opted to be the only person to ride all the way back to Seattle. I quickly found out that riding back is way harder, not only because you're tired and loaded down by pecan pie, but because it's a longer grade getting out of the Carnation Valley and it never...ever....ends. Woodinville-Duvall Road? SUCKS. The Burke was a welcome relief as I knew every bump and waypoint, but the last stretch after Matthew's Beach....SUCKS. I swear my body always knows that it's almost done and throws in the towel a little early despite being 10 miles out. I finally pulled into home as the sun was setting, my feet and hands not quite frozen, but my heavy Messquerade sweatshirt never felt so good.

One week of sitting on my butt at an oil spill, the next 2 days riding ~100 miles under beautiful fall skies and getting some color back on my face. Thanksgiving? You bet.