Missing Borculo

I know you've heard this before, but I'd rather bike than walk. Walking -- or any weight bearing exercise, but realistically, what else is there -- has been prescribed by professional medical types as seriously necessary for me.  It's not a "real" problem, but it does seem like a harsh choice to me, and I struggle with it.

The not quite retired Professor hauled me out on neighborhood walks on two evenings this week.  Nice of her.  While I don't mind biking alone, I get bored quickly when I walk by myself. 

On Tuesday evening's walk, we got in the full neighborhood circle, plus an extra spoke or two, before we decided not to push our luck any further and headed home before we got wet.  Last night my legs were semi cooked from a longish ride I took earlier in the day, but we managed about 40 minutes of walking.  That's two.  (Or 10, in binary.)

The plan, were I to follow one, is to walk three days a week and bike four.  I've been trying to push the ride length a bit to make up some for biking less often than in years past.  Yesterday I headed inland on my bike to escape the cold, cold air near the big lake, deciding somewhere along the way to make a visit to a little town called Borculo.  (Home of the famous Dandelion Festival.  Really.)  At one point, years ago,  I was into "bagging" the small towns near here, and I had ridden to Borculo and had some root beer.  Finding a route east of the highway that doesn't involve gravel roads isn't easy, but I was pretty sure that recent road projects had resulted in paved shoulders on the busier stretches of county roads that I'd have to ride if I wanted to stay on pavement all the way to Borculo.  The good news is that I was right about the paved shoulders.  The bad news is that somebody moved Borculo.  I could swear it was at the intersection of 120th and Port Sheldon.  When I arrived at that intersection, it wasn't there. On our walk last night, I talked to the not quite retired Professor about this, and she guessed that Borculo was at 120th and Port Sheldon, too.  What are the odds that we'd both be wrong?  As it turns out, 100%.  When I got home and checked a map, I discovered that  I missed it by 3 miles.  In my unsuccessful attempt to find it I had ridden 28+ miles, however, and an additional 6 miles (3 more out, 3 more back) just wasn't in the cards.  Or more accurately, in my legs.  Even with a headwind returning and more traffic than I would have liked on a couple of stretches, it was a pretty nice ride.