Month: June 2015

A “Solo” Evening with Kathy, Linel, and Hermione

I worked from home today. I spent most of my time fretting about the crew replacing the gas line to the house. There were backhoes and sweaty men and tampers and a big truck with a Mud Dog whatever that is. They finished up after six or seven hours in the heat. So far nothing has gone BOOM.

My daughter took off for a concert in Maryland (something about Mumford and his kids) and my wife was doing yoga, so I was on my own for dinner. I decided to ride The Mule to Old Town and rustle myself up some grub.  Before I did I sent a tweet out just in case someone else might be up thataway.

I decided to have fish and chips at Eamonns. While waiting for food, I checked my mobile device and learned from Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon that a tall ship was docked in Old Town. I had thought it was coming tomorrow so I was pretty happy to get a chance to go check it out. L’Hermione is a replica of a French vessel built in 1780. Lafayette convinced the king of France to build it and send it to the colonies so that the upstarts could kick some British ass. Merci beaucoup, Marquis.

A later tweet told me that Kathy Lewis was in Old Town to do pretty much the same thing as me. An Instagram post told me that Linel was taking a yoga class a few blocks away and planned to check out the Hermione as well.

I had already ordered food and she had already locked up her bike so I ate and rode down to meet her at Virtue, a tony eatery owned by the same people who own Eamonn’s.

We sat and drank a beer and talked about the quirks of friendship: how some require no maintenance and are lifelong while others are impermanent, falling apart without explanation.

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Kathy and L’Hermione

We moved our dicussion outdoors and made our way to the Hermione. The crowds were plenty big for a weeknight. I am sure the place will be mobbed this weekend. He stood and admired the beautiful rigging, sails, and woodwork. It boggles my mind that a ship this small can survive the stresses of the North Atlantic.

We turned to leave and in short order ran into Linel. We chatted for 20 minutes as the sunlight began to fade. Both Kathy and I practically drooled over her beautiful bike. (Sorry I didn’t think to take a picture.)

I had neglected to bring a headlight and Kathy needed to get to bed early so the three of us went our separate ways.

The ride home in the fading daylight was fun, except for the bugs. It’s that time of year when you ride through clouds of bugs on the trail. I concentrated on keeping my mouth shut and hoped none would get in my ears. I made it almost all the way home before BUZZZZZ. A fly went right in my ear. Ack!

I made it home grateful for the wonders of social media. What could have been a solitary, out and back ride turned into quite an interesting night.

I Don’t Think She’s a Muggle

This morning’s ride to work featured a rarity. A Linel sighting!  Normally she rides to work about a half hour after me. She has been known to wear an invisibility cloak, too. But this morning I spotted her about 200 yards in front of me. I could tell it was her by her Nutcase helmet and super posh Surly Long Haul Trucker.

I didn’t put the hammer down to catch her though. This was one of those mornings when I needed some alone time. (I’d be in much better biking shape if I were an extrovert.) To givDSCN3987_1116e credit where credit is due, Linel was going so fast the trees were blurry. Must have been using floo powder.

Linel took a left onto South Royal Street. I continued straight to stay on the Mount Vernon Trail. As I passed under the bridge I saw some folks working on their fencing skills.

Near the 14th Street bridge, the tree that had fallen during last night’s storm was still lying across the trail. To the left was a whole mess of standing water. To the right was only the slightest of openings. I went right. It looked blocked but I rode right through. Sweet.

Somewhere near this point Chris M. rode past me heading south. He even took my picture. Portrait of Obliviousman.

The ride home was a breeze. I was lost in thought about a son flying to Thailand, the disappointment of impermanent friendship, and a weekend begging to be filled with movement. Sometimes I wonder how I stay upright.

The fallen tree had been cut up, removing the morning’s obstruction. Props to the Park Service for its quick removal. (Why they can’t do the same with snow is beyond me.)

Once clear of the airport, I was back in a trance.

I am working from home tomorow. The gas company is replacing the gas line to my home. I want to be here if they blow something up.  If they do, somebody else will have to continue this blog. I’ll be in orbit.

Surprise, It’s Summer in DC

Today’s commute started out splendidly. I wore a t-shirt that has grown in the last few weeks. I think this may be a result of the bike tour I did last month. Nice surprise.

The ride to work on The Mule was uneventful for the most part. I was in my usual trance until I made it to Union Street in Old Town. There I found myself following a BMW station wagon with Maryland plates. It was inching along the street. I tried passing on the right and it drifted to the right. I moved back left and it moved back. Then it came to a stop right in the middle of the lane.

I decide to hell with this nonsense and passed the car on the left. The driver was fiddling with his cell phone. I yelled something non-vulgar as I rode by shaking my head demonstratively.

I continueDSCN3985_1110d workward with a nice breeze that made my oddly large t-shirt flap along the sides. When I came to the bridge just before the troll bridge (the boardwalk underneath the TR Bridge) I spotted an odd duck sitting on a mud flat in the river. It was a snow goose. I thought it might be dead because it was positioned awkwardly and was not moving. It was still there in the evening and was moving around quite gracefully.

When I arrived at my office I had another surprise. K18595872232_19694ef663_zelly is a co-worker who sits in a cubicle just outside my office. She is a runner and skier who is recovering from hip surgery. The doctor has cleared her for non-impact activity. For the last few weeks she’s been picking my brain about bike commuting. She had her old mountain bike fixed up with new tires and some other basic maintenance work. This weekend she took it for a test ride. Apparently it was a big success because today she went for it; she rode to work for the first time! She was totally stoked about the experience.

Striking while the iron was hot, I told her about DC Bike Party, Friday Coffee Club, Wednesday Coffee Club, 3rd Thursday Happy Hour, the Donut Crawl, and the Bicycle Space social rides.  I had her at “cupcakes.”

The ride home was a n18427896298_48ecdc34d5_zot so big surprise. It is summer here in DC and that means evening thunder storms. I knew from the weather warnings that I would not make it all the way home before the rains hit. I was hoping to get to an underpass near National Airport but my luck ran out about 1/4 mile from it. I’d have kept riding in the rain but there was lightning and I was in no hurry so I took shelter under the bridge.

I always say that I am less concerned about the rain than I am about the wind. There were several large limbs on the trail as I headed south from the bridge. I later learned that a tree had fallen across the trail at the 14th Street Bridge where I could have waited out the storm. Eek.

Once the rain stopped I headed home. Within 20 minutes the sun came out. By the time I got home my clothes were dry.

It’s summer in DC.

Recovery Ride – The Pretzelneur

I woke up all sore from yesterday’s shenanagans so I decided to take advantage of the fine weather and my perpetually empty social calendar.

So I made my way to the Mount Vernon Trail and let gravity and a tailwind push me to Alexandria. The trail was pretty busy so any thought of riding it north to DC was pretty much out of the question. This left option B which is to ride over the Wilson Bridge. This route to DC is pretty interesting. First, you have the bridge’s view of DC. Then you ride down a spiral toward National Harbor. Then you ride a long way up Oxon Hill followed by riding a long way back down to Oxon Cove. The route goes up again to MLK Jr. Boulevard which rolls through Anacostia.

At Good Hope Road, I picked up the Anacostia River Tral and watched the crew shells glide by as I headed north.

I stopped to see where the Pretzel House is in DC. I thought Google said 15th and D NE so I headed that way. I knew things didn’t look right as I rolled around the one way streets. No pretzels. Hmmm. I re-checked my phone and it said SE!

So I rode the mile or so to the correct location and had myself some fine pretzels and an iced tea.

After my munch, I headed to Eastern Market to people watch. There were people. I watched them. Nobody I knew.

So I rolled down Constitution Avenue and went to the Enid Haupt Garden at the Smithsonian. I used to work up the street from this place. It is expertly maintained. I took a bench and just chilled for 20 minutes. It’s just the perfect place to sit and reflect.

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With a  refreshed mind, I headed to Hains Point for a 3-mile lap. I think the last time I rode there was cherry blosson season. It was nice not to have to compete for road space with buses.

I rode across the 14th Street Bridge and made my way toward the Pentagon. I followed streets through Crystal City and Potomac Yards. A new bike trail has been built in Potomac Yards. I followed it to the Braddock Road Metro station. It’s a nice addition to Alexandria’s bicycle infrastructure.

I rode West Street through the edge of Old Town. A car from Arkansas and I played leap frog. The driver was unfamiliar with the 3-feet rule and kept passing me within a foot of my left hand. If I were left handed I would have keyed him.

I finished my recovery ride by grinding up three hills, two on Fort Hunt Road and a third on Sherwood Hall Lane. I arrived home with 44 miles on my odometer.

So much for recovering. I think my ride to work tomorrow will be my recovery from my recovery ride.

Fritterman Triathlon

I had no plan for the day. It started as most Saturdays. I ran the deck on the crossword puzzles in the paper. I screwed up the Sudoku. I drank all the coffee. With the important business of the day behind me, I decided to do a triathlon.

No, not the Ironman or even the Tinman. I did the Fritterman. It’s the suburban version.

First, event is the Hollin Hall Errandonnee. I rode my bike to the drug store. Then got a haircut. Then picked up ten pounds of birdseed. Then I rode home, stopping along the way to chat with Nancy Duley (on her awesome 1993 Hollands bike) and her friend Stephanie (on her blue bike of a sort I can’t recall). We stood in the road on a sidestreet and gabbed for ten or 15 minutes. (I do hope the folks driving by in SUVs could see that adults in suburbia can indeed function on a Saturday morning without 3,000 pounds of steel.) Then I rode home. Total mileage: 2 1/2 miles.

Back at home I snarfed an apple and went out for round two: the lawn mowing event. I actually like mowing the lawn. Like running and hiking (see below) it has a meditative aspect to it. And I refuse to pay people to do something I learned how to do during the Kennedy administration. I finished this event in 45 minutes.

After the lawn mowing (I came in first), I headed indoors for some nuked left overs. I watched the last three innings of the Nats game on the tube. (The Nats lost. Boo.)

It was 3:30 with plenty of daylight remaining so I drove to Rock Creek Park and hiked ten miles. I hiked the Valley Trail toward Maryland and the Western Ridge Trail back to my start at Pierce Mill. It was hilly. It was muggy. It was my first hike of the year. My legs were hurting at 4 miles. Rather than make it an 8-mile hike, I pushed on. This was a pretty good decision until I missed a turn and hiked down a muddy hill and then back up. And I was doing fine until the last 200 yards back down to Rock Creek. It was pretty much straight down and my legs felt like lead. And I was still hanging in there until I stepped off a curb awkwardly about 100 feet from my car and my back seized.

I made it to the finish.

It is not true that you are given fritters at the end of the Fritterman Triathlon. That’s because I was alone and there were no fritters in sight.

When I got home I looked like Mike Myers’ Middle Aged Man. I may not be able to walk tomorrow.

So it goes.