In the spirit of the Tour de France bicycle race, I arose early Sunday morning and rode my own Tour de Howard Gnesen. Almost all of us who ride identify in some small way with the world’s most prestigious cycling event going on now in France.
The Tour de Howard Gnesen is somewhat less challenging, at least the stage that runs north from Homecroft School to the turnaround at Normanna Road and back.
My chances looked good Sunday. I saw no other riders, which is often the case when I ride the Tour de Howard.
The Tour de Howard takes a rider through the quiet Minnesota countryside, past tidy yards, rural daycare centers and the occasional antique tractor. A sign at the end of one drive says, “Farm Fresh Eggs, $3.00.”
I am free to observe all of this because, unlike Tour de France riders, I am not bothered by a hundred other riders traveling wheel to wheel and handlebar to handlebar.
The only sound I hear is that of air passing through the nubby tires of my 10-year-old mountain bike. On the downhills, the air passing over those nubs makes a singing sound and provides the illusion of speed.
When one is leading a stage of the Tour de Howard, as I was on Sunday, he faces the inevitable questions about drugs. And unlike many Tour de France riders, I think it’s best to be up front about it. Yes, I use drugs. Every day, I throw down some high-blood-pressure medication and an aspirin. There. It’s out there. Run that in your French tabloids. I have nothing to hide.
Beyond drugs, the Tour de Howard has other similarities to the Tour de France. The northern Minnesota countryside is flush with the violet shafts of lupine. Those fields of lavender in the region of Provence, France, have nothing on us. Also, there were two dead bunny rabbits along the road, which must happen occasionally in the Tour de France.
Unlike the Tour de France, however, crowds were light on this early Sunday stage of the Tour de Howard. I saw one sweat-soaked runner and an older guy going to the mailbox for his newspaper. They did not seem caught up in the Tour de Howard. Perhaps their cheers were drowned out by the sound of the nubbins on my tires.
At the turn-around, I took a hit from my water bottle. It would be nice to have a sponsor’s vehicle pull alongside and hand me my high-powered feed. But then, I have no sponsors.
Then it was back to the relentless grind, the insane climbs and the flirting-with-death descents that make the Tour de Howard the spectacle it is. I cranked up the final climb to my home and wilted in the saddle.
The yellow dog, lying in her kennel, raised her head as if to say, “Did you go somewhere?”
I’ve grown accustomed to that kind of adulation as leader of the Tour de Howard.
SAM COOK is a Duluth News Tribune columnist and outdoors writer. Reach him at (218) 723-5332 or scook@duluthnews.com. Follow him on Twitter at “samcookoutdoors.”
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