I don't have a camera for my cycling helmet.

Unlike many cycling advocates, I don't find the need to visually log every mile in traffic, every horn honking behind me, or how the sound of a car's engine (or the halo of its headlights) warns me of its approach more accurately than the rear-view mirrors that have fallen off my visors more times than I can count. On the other hand, it would be cool to be able to record the beauty of some of the local landscape, the technical details of my ride (speed, cadence, heart rate) at any given time, and for the sheer technogeekiness of it, both my glucometer and my heart rate monitor in the same frame, without having to remove the wristwatch receiver.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I blogged Monday (well, early Tuesday by the time it posted) how the initial reportage from the in-competition death of pro cyclist Wouter Weylandt reminded me once again of the importance of healthy-heart examinations for all athletes; what I didn't mention is how much this rare occurrence affected me at a psychological level. This rider was young enough to have been my son. Among others, he leaves behind an unborn only child. He was someone who, from all reports, was one of those rare people who managed to be friendly with everyone. After I watched cycling's equivalent of a (very moving) funeral cortège, I had to get outside -- not just to train, but to ride in a place of natural beauty, where I would have to negociate ascents and descents, and maybe also stop to take a few photos along the way. I'm fortunate to live within riding distance of Watchung Reservation, an area which is part county park, part archaeological site, and part undeveloped land. I've not had the opportunity to explore the whole area, but it's not uncommon to see cyclists training along its few bending, twisting roads.

I started out with a blood glucose level of 117 mg/dl and took off eastward through the rolling flats of Valley Road, a shaded area of historical buildings, mid-twentieth century suburban homes, gentleman-farms, and McMansions, past a large (and hugely set-back) corporate park, and into the reservation. Now, I should mention that "climbing" -- ascending on the bicycle -- has never been easy for me, and I doubt that my weight is the only issue. (For what it's worth, my Polar heart rate monitor clocked a peak of 163 beats per minute on the climbs -- nominally 93% of my maximum heart rate. On the flats, my endurance heart rate is between 119 and 135, and my resting heart rate is around 60.) Several times I had to dismount and walk the bike up several yards, giving me the excuse to take a few cellphone photographs. Unfortunately, still shots do not adequately capture the beauty of rolling through hills filled with acres of trees, small brooks running here and there, and if you're lucky (or unlucky if you're a motorist!), small animals and deer.

Since I had forgotten that there was a section of homes on the road through the reservation, I ended up turning around a mile or two shy of my outbound goal. On the way back, I tried to check out Seeley Pond, which marked my entrance to, and exit from, the Reservation. I never made it to the pond, but I got to talk with another cyclist and with a violinist who had come out with a companion to enjoy the beautiful day. It turns out the violinist also has type 2 diabetes, and is also diet-controlled. It may have been the sunlight that had gotten to me, but I was beginning to develop a headache and chose to check my blood glucose before leaving the area. It was a very reasonable 108, and I decided to try a one-off version of the "Flat Stanley" type of photo, starring my very NOT flat Freestyle Lite glucometer in its place. From there it was back through the mixed-use, unpredictable-wind area and down from the Watchung Hills, then over to do a brief bit of shopping before returning home.

Three hours after I left, my blood glucose was 110 mg/dl. My heart-rate monitor says I burned 1305 calories and I had consumed nothing but water. Last year, if I had even had no-sugar-added electrolyte fluid on a two-hour ride, I'd come back at a too-high-for-comfort 145 mg/dl -- but as the weather heats up, I will need to pay attention to that as well. Training-wise, I'm still well shy of where I should be to make my 50-mile Tour de Cure in just over three weeks' time. But for now, the beauty of the woodlands heals, and the idea of "glucometer in the wild" photography has set my artistic side thinking.

Maybe I do need a helmetcam after all.