Published June 20, 2004 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
One of the greatest scientific accomplishments of our time can be attributed to the designers of the Mesabi Trail. Somehow, they’ve created a path that is uphill both ways.
This can make for difficult bicycling, especially when you’re riding into the wind both ways, as I find often to be the case. It’s not easy getting back into shape after a half year of deep fried food and rampant sloth.
Nothing makes you more aware of wind speed and the slope of the land than a long bike ride. You don’t notice things like that in a car, probably because no matter what your car is doing, your net activity is the same as if you were at home watching “Kojak” reruns. Maybe it’s even less – I know my heart rate ticks up some when Kojak closes in on the bad guy. “Look out Kojak! He’s got a gun in his tube sock!”
Over the last couple weeks I’ve been keeping a schedule of one long bike ride a week, punctuated by several shorter bike rides around town during the rest of the week. This saves me gas money and keeps me moving, as Secretary of Heath and Human Services Tommy Thompson advises me to do.
I’ve gone on many long bike rides before, but the first one always has a way of reminding me how long winter is in northern Minnesota. I ride the fake bike in the cold months, which helps me keep leg strength, but a half hour on a fake bike doesn’t tax the cardiovascular system the way a three-hour trek down the Mesabi Trail does.
I know some of you out there are reading this column as something to do in between your occasional at-rest heart beats, stitching your pants back together from when you flexed too hard at dinner last night. Folks like you think I’m soft. I’m here to tell you, pal. I’m not soft because I was born soft or because I chose a soft lifestyle. I’m soft because I chose to eat soft, juicy red steaks and soft, fluffy mashed taters. Mmm. Taters.
Like I said, my legs are happy on the bike rides. I keep my legs in shape. The rest of me, the part that stores excess meat and potatoes, is the part that struggles.
The first long ride of the season for me this year was a jaunt on the trail from Hibbing to Nashwauk with my friend, Marc. We made good time getting there and managed not to expire during the trip home. Marc is the kind of person who rests after a bike ride like that by playing a round of tennis. After the first ride of the season, I convert most of my remaining energy to the act of not vomiting. (Note: just because you stop to rest at the Nashwauk Dairy Queen does not mean you should eat Dilly Bars.)
After surviving the first big bike trip, the others have come a little easier. I’ve learned to wear sunscreen (that massive, life-providing ball of flaming gas in space will do a number on your skin if you let it) and to re-institute a better diet that involves at least a few items that aren’t bleeding.
But you still can’t convince me that the trail doesn’t go uphill both ways or that the wind doesn’t automatically shift once you turn to go home. I’ve checked and it’s true.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.