Since returning from my most recent trip to Pennsylvania, I have put a lot of time and effort into my home and not much into cycling. I rode 246 miles between October 10 and October 31. My grand total for October was an even 400 miles, which is about average. But I entered November with only 3,653 miles, year-to-date, and it will take an unusual effort to reach 4,000 for the 16th consecutive season. My original goal for this season, 4,999 miles, is hopelessly out of reach. Getting to 4,000 would be only a consolation prize.
My personal record for November is 409 miles, set in 2016. My December record is 177 miles, set in 2023. I need only 347 to reach 4,000 … possible, but not guaranteed. As temperatures drop and daylight hours wane, finding time for something as humble as a 25-mile ride can be difficult. I would need 14 such rides, and the sooner, the better. It’s only going to get colder and darker.
So, today I made a start: 25 miles around West Bend, as shown on the map above. Whether I ride again before the middle of next week is doubtful, as rain appears in our forecast for the next few days. And rain reappears in the forecast for next weekend. Already I am asking myself the question I seem to ask every year: do I want that last milestone badly enough to travel for it? If this is a normal autumn, then sometime in the next few weeks the weather will be awful here but still very tolerable down in Illinois. Is that where my 2024 season will end? With 4,000 miles in hand, I would gladly climb off the bike for a while.
The goal is not to reach 4,000 miles per se; it is to continue a streak that began in 2009. Did you know that during Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak in 1941, the Yankees slugger had only 1 hit in 21 of those games? There were many days when he had more bad at-bats than good ones, but he kept the streak alive and we’re still talking about it 83 years later. My cycling stats will never be the stuff of legend, but they mean something to me. That’s good enough at the moment. I need that little incentive to keep going in the dying weeks of a disappointing season.
