To Grandmother's house...

My first real freedom on a bike came during my summer stays at my father's farm.   While my mom didn't let us wander further from home than a few houses away, dad was less restrictive.   So, during my stays with him, I took my bike and roamed free (or at least freer...).   I, as a not particularly wild child, have few stories of daring from my youth.   Nearly all of them come from those days on the bike, riding up and down the highway to the cute boy's house a few miles away and on the gravel roads between my dad's farm and my grandparents' place.  

Contemplating a rare open weekend this Saturday, I decided to return to my roots and ride down to my grandparents' house.   They still live in the same little red house that they did in my childhood, but the ride from Owatonna to there is a bit further than from the family farm.   It's about a 30 mile trip by car, but allowing for the meandering ways that bicycles prefer to travel, I figured I'd be looking at about 40 miles one way.  

Naturally, the wind that had been absent the entirety of the prior week decided to make a reappearance shortly before I took off.  It was a south wind, though, and I figured it would be at my back on the return trip, when it mattered.  I plotted my course and loaded up with provisions and set off for my first big solo ride in Minnesota.   Funny, I know, but by my reckoning, I probably hadn't been more than 10 or so miles from Owatonna alone prior to Saturday.   In Iowa, I used to do solo long rides all the time, but here companionship is easier to come by.  

After Thursday's debacle, I was concerned that my back would be an issue, so I adopted a "treat early and often" approach to back pain.   Mostly, that meant I was taking my pain meds as frequently as I could without getting dizzy.   Technically, I am supposed to be able to take two at a time, but I have found that if I try that I end up pretty woozy, which is usually inadvisable on the bike.  So instead, I spread out the pills and take them a bit more frequently than specified on the label.   Additionally, I made sure to sit up pretty frequently and get off to stretch every hour or so (and yes, there were more than two of those...).   For the most part, it seems to have worked, though I was sore enough after the meds wore off that I decided to stay off the bike today.

Blooming Prairie was my first stop, with the sweet promise of the Bakery drawing me in.    As usual, it was a struggle to buy enough to get to the $5 minimum for the debit card, but I managed.   Did I eat more cookies than was strictly required?  I'll never tell.   The boy at the counter asked me where I was riding to, and when I responded Oakland he burst out, "California?!?".   I choose to believe that I just looked so awesome and super cyclist-like that California was the only logical place I could be going.  

After Blooming, I was on new roads.  After consulting my phone for the best route out of town, I got my bearings and enjoyed pedaling west for a while.   This road eventually brought me to a small area marked Newry on the map.   Newry consisted of two houses, and while I was riding through, approximately three people.   Nonetheless, it had this, which was pretty cool.:

Grandpa says this used to be a creamery

After Newry, I wandered west and south some more, enjoying the quiet roads and beautiful scenery.  If I were an artist, my signature would be landscapes of kelly green fields unfolding under endless blue skies.   (Like this one).   The only moment of discomfort I had was riding along Highway 251 and remembering my younger self barreling along at speeds not even approximating legal on that very stretch of road.   I was not sad to reach Maple Island and its lower speed limits.  

I had one last southern jog to get to my destination.  I had to laugh when I realized that for all the flatness of my ride (and it was very flat), that the turn off to my grandparents' house was at the crest of the only hill for miles.  It's funny how I've never noticed that in years of driving there.  

The only hill in Freeborn county

And then, I was there.   Legs a little tired and slower than I wanted (though only by 15 minutes), I rolled up the gravel driveway just as I had when I was a child.   I leaned my bike against the same tree that my long forgotten bike leaned against and smiled as my grandma came out to greet me.    

  

And, just like then, my grandpa gave me a ride home! :)