Tuesday, 9:30 a.m., Liberty to Anthony Street, sunny, 70's, breezy.
4:30 p.m., hard bike from Liberty to somewhere in Colonie on the bikepath.
Wednesday, 2:30 p.m., clouding up, 60's, a little humid. Liberty to Maxon Road.
Just a couple of maintenance gallops. I tried to throw in a little kick on Seward both days. My past performance comment on Tuesday will read "checked inside the sixteenth pole, claim of foul denied" because a guy walked right in front of me about a block and a half from home. Oh, well. With Union College back in session, you have to expect that sort of thing.
Five days in a row is pretty good, and I plan to make it six on Thursday, although I'm getting a little leg-weary and a wee bit sore, mostly from that hard bike on Tuesday. I cranked that thing. On days when I have the opportunity and am tempted to run twice, I will likely opt for the bike, instead, just to help avoid foot problems. Tuesday's Objective: Jello legs. Result: Congratulatory phone call from Bill Cosby.
Although my heart wasn't really in it for the last five miles or so, because ...
Wildlife Watch: ... I got a chipmunk with my bike.
Whatever embargo was in place from the top of the food chain for Mr. Mouse of Monday and Mr. Mole of Tuesday was lifted, as they were nowhere to be found on Wednesday. It has not been a good week for Furry Little Creature Nation. A chipmunk joined the choir eternal on a patch of bikepath that is so long, flat and straight that I could easily see a mile ahead of me. Nobody in sight, and nobody at least a half mile behind me, either, I had that whole stretch to myself. So I put my head down and just blasted. And yet this little brown furball decided that, at the instant I was rocketing by, sweat dripping off my nose, pumping like I was being chased by the Hounds of Hell, it was a good time to bolt across the path.
Well, three seconds sooner, or one second later, and the chipmunk census takers would still have one more burrow doorbell to ring, not one less.
I mean, we're talking a perfect perpindicular line between my wheels, and this little guy was smoking fast. "Oh, Jesus" was all I could come up with (yes, I looked back, thanks for asking). The squirrels and chipmunks have been really active lately, but I still can't figure out what would possess one to believe that that very nanosecond was a good time to sprint across the path, when he could have brazenly waltzed across at any other moment. There was nobody else around. Maybe the sudden appearance of my bike caused him to panic and make a break for his personal hole, but there were plenty of places to hide on the side that he was on. Or he could've just stayed put. The speed of his beeline leads me to believe that it was a reactive flight behavior. But ... man.
It's not the first time something like this has happened to me on the bikepath. A few years ago, a chipmunk did pretty much the same thing, but this one actually jumped and made contact with my left calf. I can still feel the soft, furry creature brushing my leg. As fast as it happened, I could feel his body warmth. I'm not kidding. None of the sensations were displeasurable on their own merits (and who doesn't love the cuddly chipmunk, anyway?), but I guess because it was a wild animal, it gave me just the slightest shadow of a shudder.
I will light a candle and lift a toast to my little comrade in speed. I guess you have to chalk it up to a weird, rare, accidental confluence of fate, two shards of separate meteors colliding in deep space, sort of like a hit on one of my blog posts.
More Wildlife Watch: On Wednesday, a grizzled-looking guy in a gray hoodie lying on his side in the grass. He was sound asleep ... I hope, because there are forces in the woods that don't let the path go untidy for long.
