Last weekend, Nick and I went to Minocqua. We spent Friday biking on Bearskin trail, participated in the Rump Roast Run on Saturday, and then got in one long run on Sunday before coming home. We traveled to Minocqua on this same weekend back in 2007, but I felt like I needed it more this year.

Also, this small-scale getaway of ours marked a milestone in our life together: for the first time ever, I did not come down with an awful cold hours before the weekend began! I kept waiting for it, too…but damn if this running thing hasn't given me a stronger immune system! The wonder! When we went to Chicago back in May, I honestly thought I was going to die. Thankfully I was okay for the Elton John/Billy Joel concert…but by the time Saturday rolled around, the day we went to see Jersey Boys, I had finished the box of tissue in the hotel room and was stuffing squares of toilet paper and rough napkins from a wine bar into the folds of my little black dress as I strolled into the theatre.

The colors were just beginning to turn in Minocqua, and for a weekend that was supposed to be shrouded in rain, we actually got to see quite a bit of sun and managed not to get rained on. After a harrowing experience on the B.A.T.S. trail system in 2007 (during which I had what appeared to be a life-threatening head cold), I requested that we bike Bearskin this year. B.A.T.S. is nice and paved and starts in quaint little Boulder Junction (as a child, I spent a week out of every summer in this portion of Wisconsin, making the memories of the area sweet and innocent). Unfortunately, the path forces you to bike up steep hills with invisible crests and then speed down them at a nearly 90° angle. Add a whole lot of sinus drainage to that, and you can see why I do not have a fondness for B.A.T.S.

Also, I'm not so much a thrill-seeker. Some people really get off on roller coasters and death-defying experiences. From my point of view, I'd rather hold off the near-death experiences until, well, I am near death. That's just me trying to be all logical again. So, naturally, I applied the brakes on my bike while going down those insane hills which killed the momentum I need to go right back up the next one. The Bearskin Trail may not be paved, but it follows an old railroad bed (i.e. fairly level), is much quieter (does not follow a highway like B.A.T.S.), and offers a tree-lined corridor. What a majestic escape:








I would not be accurate in the telling of the story if I left out the bit about our water. We buy state biking trail passes every year. We both have nice bikes and enjoy being active with whatever free time we can eek out…and Wisconsin has some of the most beautiful state trails of all. I suppose the views are compensation for the Hell that many people refer to as "Winter". So, after every excursion, all of the equipment is stored and the water bottles are cleaned. Friday morning before leaving home, Nick filled our two insulated water bottles with tap water.

I have absolutely no doubt that the bottles were cleaned after last time. I have no doubt because the water tasted like dish soap. I don't know how it is that I know how dish soap tastes, I just do. I was thirsty though, and chugged. I replayed the images of the Dawn commercial where they are cleaning the ducks caught in an oil spill, and I wondered what has happening to my digestive tract as the soap-ish water flowed through. Don't worry. We stopped at a wine and beer bar after we finished and introduced toxins back into our systems.