This morning I rode consecutive round trips to Marsh Park, starting at 10 a.m. in 46° sunshine. When I finished, 2 hours later (or actually 1:59), it had heated up to 56°. In this weather, my jacket over a hoodie again felt good (though I didn't need the gloves I had brought, and just tucked them into my coat). It was slightly less windy than yesterday when I started (10 mph from the east northeast), but considerably more by the time I finished (15 mph). The direction of the wind had a strong bearing on my ride. It was at my back on the southward stretch along Lohr Rd. at the beginning of the trail, and this helped me to an average speed of over 10 mph for the first 4 miles of my ride. On a bike, this would be quite modest, if not slow ... but on the heavier and more cumbersome trike, it's pretty good. And then, when I made the turn at the end of the first round trip and started back southward on that same stretch, I really flew, doing the first mile in 13.7 mph! (MapMyRide calls off my overall average speed and my split speed, that is the most recent mile, when I reach each new mile)
That same wind really sapped my strength and my spirit, cutting dramatically into my speed, as I finished each round trip. Coming northward along Lohr, there is a large field to the right (east), adjacent to the Ann Arbor Airport, and as the wind swept across the open field, it gathered strength and then slammed into me noticeably.
All this concern with the wind reminded me of a piece of music I sang at Interlochen. I spent my junior and senior years of high school (1973-75) at the Interlochen Arts Academy, a prestigious boarding school in northern Michigan. It was there, singing under the direction of Dr. Kenneth W. Jewell, that my love for choral music, and my desire to pursue a career in it, was really born. In our Chorale (a smaller, more select choral ensemble), we sang numerous madrigals. (A madrigal is defined as a part-song for several voices, especially one of the Renaissance period, typically arranged in elaborate counterpoint and without instrumental accompaniment. Originally used of a genre of 14th-century Italian songs, the term now usually refers to English or Italian songs of the late 16th and early 17th century, in a free style strongly influenced by the text.) One of these was Spring Returns by Luca Marenzio (1553-1599). Its text speaks of the spring winds that so batter me on my rides these days.
The more I thought on this music, though I had not considered it in over 4 decades, the more of the music crept back into my brain ... the text, musical motifs or figures, rhythms, and even the contrapuntal interplay between the various parts. It was written in Italian, but we sang an English version, whose text (though I can't yet recall it entirely) included:
Spring returns, with balmy zephyrs softly breathed
April, the young and gay, with flowers wreathed.
The waves are stilled.
The clouds in showers descending.
While nymphs and jocund shepherds
Songs are blending ...
It was nice, too, as I was just getting started, not yet a mile into my ride and headed southward on the trail, to see my friend Doris Granum who was biking northward on the trail. Evidently my trike is pretty recognizable, because she grinned widely, waved, and called out a cheery, "Hi, Allen!" when still a good way off.
No comments:
Post a Comment