Independence is being on a bike

Had one heck of a 4th of July at my aunt & uncle's place in Manhattan Beach, CA. Uncle Pat is the most patriotic person I've ever met, so it's always special to be with them on July 4th.

After a cruise in my uncle's Vietnam Army-tribute truck, the "GroundPounder" (no joke)

my cousin, her boyfriend, and our friend set out to visit my (deep breath) cousin's-boyfriend's-sister's birthday party, so we donned our best red-white-and-blues, including recently-gifted PBR hats, and piled on low-riding cruisers and set out for the 3.5 mile (each way!) voyage.

And voyage we did, past all those streets you hear about in rap songs: Crenshaw, Hawthorn, heading to Gardena. I was told we would not be staying there until it got dark.

We made it back safe though, dodging fireworks, cars, and the darkness. It may have only been 7 miles, but it was a damn fun 7 miles, and I've been told I can count miles that aren't part of "serious" bike riding, so I'm gonna!

A bike ride!

A bike ride! I went for a real live bike ride today!

I've been on vacation in Southern California all week and there's been a lot of family time, a healthy dose of partying, but very little biking (other than one 4th of July excursion, to be discussed later). I brought my bike down in the hopes I would go for a bike ride with my 89 year-old grandfather, who picked up cycling in his late 50s and went on to be a baller age-group champion in his 60s and continued to ride 4-5 days a week until he was about 82. He's slowed down some recently, but is not unable and still rides occasionally despite having lived for 9 decades. His newly-rebuilt Litespeed with top-of-the-line Campy Record is a testament to a guy who's lived his life doing things the right way.

Alas, he's 89, and hasn't felt like biking. So I woke up before the rest of the family and hopped on the bike before 9, embarking on the same ride he used to take my brother and I on. Along the beach through Ventura, CA, onto the Ventura Bike Trail, up past Lake Casitas (site of the 1984 Olympic rowing events and eponymous setting for the classic rowing book Assault on Lake Casitas) to Ojai.

A gorgeous ride, passing several large groups of older riders, of which my grandfather used to be a more regular member. Just as I reached Ojai, my grandfather's hilarious old friend Ralph, who turned 75 today and was going for a ride with his stepson. I turned around and rode back to Ventura with them, catching up and stopping at a place along the trail that looked down the dry Ventura riverbed, up to the Casitas hill, and across to the hills.

Ended up being a 41.5 mile-ride, not a beast but not shabby, and certainly welcome after a lot of days with no miles at all.

Last night in SoCal and I hadn't been in the water yet, so I had to go for it. Jumped in and it was invigorating, followed by just plain fun. Caught a couple body surf waves as the sun sank, and headed home. After too many consecutive days with too much on my mind, this was a great Thursday.