May 12/18: 119 Kms; 3 Hrs, 47; 574 Metres; Eight Riders

Howdy …

Sorry, no time to write. Under the influence of an alien force. Best, I could do. Ciao

Just asking you, “When the alarm rings on Sunday morning, where else would you rather be than on your bicycle pedalling away the fatty bits?”

As for to-day’s ride, what do you say when the day beckons you for an embrace, like a young child –  eyes sparkling and open wide, arms outstretched, joyful, and a mouth full of a sweet laughter. That was our surprise greeting as we soft pedaled, light of mood, and full of delight into the morning air. Yes, it was cool but the sky was deep blue with promise. We embraced it, holding nothing back, like two lovers long-time parted and now reunited. You know you just should have been there.

Yes, our days are filled with little moments of magic even though we don’t know at the time. Reflection adds a patina of nostalgia; and while physical effort hardens the body, repose afterwards calms the mind and enlivens the spirit.

A full Ten to Kevin for discovering this route and for his steady riding. Kudos to everyone for showing up. Appreciate that. Also, it was nice to see a couple of new faces at Stinsons this morning: SG and WR. Hope to see you guys again soon.
Sunday 7:00 am 7:00 am Meet at Stinsons on White Lake Rd for 7:00 am 7:00 am 7.00 am 7:00 7:00 start and ride to Starbucks in Kanata for coffee after 56 kms; Rob’s route, mostly. Total distance 104 kms; 489 Metres. You know, you’ll just want to be there.

Caveat: Route is tentative and is depends upon rider consensus, the turnout, and the weather.

For those with time constraints, there are many options to cut it short. Don’t miss out, just because the route is longer than you have time for. Weather:  6C – 19 C; sunny; winds SE 15.

What I’m listening to:

Okay, Stay fit, fine, firm always! Bye-bye, ac.

Look forward to hearing from you at;;;


When all the others were away at Mass
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.
They broke the silence, let fall one by one
Like solder weeping off the soldering iron:
Cold comforts set between us, things to share
Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.
And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes
From each other’s work would bring us to our senses.

So while the parish priest at her bedside
Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying
And some were responding and some crying
I remembered her head bent towards my head,
Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives–
Never closer the whole rest of our lives.   Seamus Heaney