Nothing like a bit of nature to help you get your head together. I spent a couple of hours bicycling in the countryside outside Elgin, Texas and except for the sore muscles and sore tail, it was a very pleasant way to spend Easter Sunday.
Not that it was all that “natural.” I saw transmission power lines and a gravel pit, was passed by the occasional car or truck and could just hear traffic whizzing by on U.S. 290. Got chased by a few dogs. But I saw some gorgeous wildflowers and could hear the birds, including a woodpecker tapping away. And best of all, I could hear myself think.
I’m still out of shape – living in the Sausage Capital of Texas for two years hasn’t helped my waistline – but I’m working on it. I love riding, though I am not and never have been “competitive.” I still enjoy it, exhausted as I may be. Riding downhill almost makes struggling uphill worth it. Dat breeze.
I didn’t find a good song for Easter this year (Here’s what I posted in 2010, in 2011, and here’s a Good Friday song by Fairouz you must hear if you never have), so I’ll leave you with this:
I spent part of my weekend at a friend’s place on South Lamar during Psych Fest and couldn’t help but notice the “ghost bike” marking the place where bicyclist Andrew Runciman met his maker on the night of April 23. According to police reports, he was riding southbound in the 3500 Block of S. Lamar at 11:44 p.m. when he was struck from behind by a dark-colored SUV, which left the scene. They took him to University Medical Center at Brackenridge, but couldn’t save him.
Really sad deal. I’ve read a little about Andrew and he seemed like a hell of a guy — a computer science major who recently moved to Austin. His bicyclist friends have been beating the bushes trying to stir up anyone who might have seen the tragedy take place. They held a memorial bike ride for him on April 30. Someone is bound to know something. Most likely whoever did it will tell someone and that someone needs to step forward. Accidents happen, but driving away and leaving the victim for dead is just despicable.
You can read more about Andrew, including a heart-breaking letter from his father, on the Republic of Austin blog.
If you know anything, call APD Vehicular Homicide Unit Detectives at (512) 974-8164.