September was my lowest mileage month of the year. I rode only 349 miles including 8 bike commutes for 243.5 miles. My longest day of riding was 33 1/2 miles, a commute extended to meet a friend for a beer in DC. I did 8 bike commutes: 6 on The Mule and 2 on Big Nellie.
For the year I know have ridden 5,669 miles. I’ve done a 121 bike commutes. I am wearing my oldest bike out. The Mule has done 70 bike commutes and 3,012 miles.
I have been off the bike for about 2 1/2 weeks. My wife and I went to visit our kids. Our daughter is doing a semester abroad at MacQuarie University in Sydney, Australia. Our son is teaching at a school in Phuket, Thailand. Since my daughter had a two-week spring break we decided to go see her and check out Australia, New Zealand, and Thailand.
We headed west on 9/10 and kept going, arriving back in DC on 9/28. Yesterday, despite severe jet lag and a head cold that I’ve had off and on since 9/8, I rode to work. Riding with jet lag is a bit like riding drunk. Balance is a real problem, especially at when stopping and starting up.
While I was gone, the Alexandria City Police department began targeted enforcement at stop signs, singling out bicyclists. This is probably in response to complaints from some cranky residents of Old Town who refuse to acknowledge that they live in a tourist trap and on a major bicycling artery, the Mount Vernon Trail. They have political pull so from time to time the Alexandria police appease them with obnoxious enforcement.
The police are apparently requiring bicyclists to put a foot on the ground when stopping. The penalty for noncompliance is a $91 ticket. Suffice it to say, my jet lagged body did not appreciate this.
Last night on the way home I counted the number of cars that came to a complete stop at stops signs on Union Street. 6 out of 10 did not. The first of the 6 was an SUV that nearly hit me as I stopped and put my foot down.
On the way to work I rode to work on Royal and Saint Asaph Streets. No cars, not a single one, came to a full stop at stop signs. I lost count at how many there were but the total must have been more than 30.
I have ridden through Old Town 4 or 5,000 times. (No lie.) I have never hit anyone or been hit by anyone. Not a single accident. Cars have nearly hit me dozens of times. None of them were ticketed.
My only response to this nonsense is to put my foot down literally and figuratively. I will stop at ever stop sign and put my foot down. I was also stop patronizing businesses in Alexandria. I probably spend several thousand dollars a year in Alexandria.
I try to keep in mind that the police officers involved probably don’t want to be out there harassing people. But harass they do. Doesn’t do a lot for respect for the badge.
Rant over.
Pictures of my travel can be found on my Flickr page.
A year ago today the world lost an important person. She wasn’t famous or well-to-do. Maybe your path crossed hers as she wended her way about the DC area to school, to her internship, to home, to her volunteering activities, or to meet with her friends.
Lorena could command a room with her determination. She could make you feel loved with her radiant smile. Sometimes she would do both at once.
I knew her mostly second hand from a mutual friend who loved her dearly.
Shortly, after her death, her friends and family held a secular memorial celebration at American University (where she was to earn her Bachelor’s Degree postumously in May 2015).
Through incredible heartbreak came the moving testimonials of her husband, her mother, her four “soul sisters”, and other friends. She was a force of nature who loved fiercely. A few months later her husband told me that they had thought of themselves as pebbles in the water:
“…to encourage all who may be struggling/stuck to open themselves up to making the impossible possible…in their lives.”
As one testimonial after another revealed, Lorena lived this simply by giving her time, attention, and love to her friends in need.
So every day, I think about her. I think about how she helped so many people, how she was going to college so she could help many, many more in the career she never got to have.
And I suppose her pebble has moved me, too.
Tomorrow is the annual 50 States Ride in DC. It’s the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s main event. You ride on each of the avenues named after a state. The cue sheet is nortoriously complex, typically running 9 pages. The weather rarely cooperates.
I won’t be riding it this year, but I will be thinking of my friends who will be slogging up and down the hills. For those of you who are new to the event, here are a few pointers:
And most of all, Have FUN!
Over the weekend I put a new rear wheel on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. I test rode it and all was good.
Two miles into my ride to work I realized that my rear shifting as FUBAR. I only had three or four working gears. It wasn’t a disaster but it was annoying all the way to work.
Now that Labor Day is in the rear view mirror we can enjoy the delightful weather of fall. NOT. It’s oppressively muggy here, made worse by the fact that the air conditioning was turned down over the weekend. I changed into my work clothes and went to my office. Sweat just poured off me. Gross. By ten the air conditioning had caught up with the humidity so the rest of the day wasn’t so bad.
The ride home was an exercise in deft shifting. I took a detour to Spokes Etc. in the Belle View shopping center. Aaron made quick work of fixing my bike while I waited. This shop has done this for me dozens of times over the years. They rock. Thanks, Aaron.
I was wearing my Anthony Rendon jersey today. One of the shop employees mentioned that Rendon is his cousin. I asked him for his autograph.
I lie.
The ride home was routine except for the sauna-like conditions.
I realized today because of other committments that I will not see another regular season Nationals game at the ballpark this year. I had a blast going to games with my kids and with Ryan, Kirstin (twice), Renee, Ed and Mary, Mike and Lisa, and Katie Lee (twice). Thanks to Delonte and Raymond for their most excellent bike valet service.
Of course, there is always the possiblity that the Nats will make the playoffs and give me another chance to see a game. 🙂
I’ve had a head cold for three days. Not a bad one. Just enough to keep me from going out for a long ride or a hike in this great Labor Day weekend weather.
I rode about 20 miles on Saturday. Very gently. Just enough to get my blood flowing. On Sunday, I took the day off from riding and mowed the lawn. Mowing my lawn normally takes about an hour and is easy. Not this time. I was tired afterward.
Today I took the Cross Check out for an easy sping through the neighborhoods in southeastern Fairfax County, mostly in the Mount Vernon Area. I do love riding this bike, especially now that I have put a bigger saddlebag on it.
I managed to avoid any significant hills and just cruised along. As the temperature rose, I felt the warmth like a blanket. I was sorry to end the ride at 30 miles.
Tomorrow I get back to commuting on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. I put a new rear wheel on it on Saturday because the old one had a bowed rim that was causing the rear tire to hop annoyingly with each revolution. After putting the new wheel on, the tire still hopped. I looked it over, deflated the tire and then forcibly pushed the out of round part of the tire back into the rim. I think the tire bead got slightly out of round from being seated on the bad rim. Long story short, it now revolves without the hop.
Speaking of hops, it’s Labor Day. I think I’ll have a beer, put my feet up, and finish the laundry that I started a couple of hours ago.
Beer and laundry. Now that is sick.
I have come up with several names for my new bike, a Surly Cross Check. Here’s a list:
So there you have it. I’m heavily leaning towards “Deets”. It would be nice to know what his horse’s name was, but you gotta like a bike that is “cheerful in all weathers”.
Yesterday I wrote about how a very pleasant calming had come over me, as if my worries had melted away. Today very nearly topped it.
Back in my running days, I frequently found money in the part of the street that cyclists call the door zone. I think what happens is that drivers reach into their pockets for car keys and inadvertently pull money out with the keys. For a starving grad student these bits of serendipity were welcome surprises.
A couple of years ago I found a $20 bill in an ATM. I thought about taking it into the bank but I figured they already had plenty of $20 bills. Over the course of the next several weeks I bought lottery tickets with the money. It was, of course, gone in a short time.
Bike riding does not lend itself to these kinds of lucky finds. Bike riders typically find large objects like screwdrivers, bungee cords, binkeys from children being pushed by jogging moms, and stray pieces of clothing. (I once found a bra on the Mount Vernon Trail. If only it could talk….)
Today, in the middle of the street in front of my house, I found a $20 bill folded neatly in half. Wow! My lucky day. I looked around for someone looking for lost lucre and saw no one. So I put the bill in my handlebar bag and rolled on.
Fifty feet later I found another $20 bill, also folded in half.
You: You must be joking.
Me: I am not
I repeated my look-around and plopped the second bill into my handlebar bag.
Thinking maybe there was a line of $20 bills down the street away from my line of travel, I reversed course and rode back the other way looking for more.
No such luck.
Okay, I thought, time to count my blessings and head off to work. I got about 50 feet from the second $20 bill when I saw a folded piece of paper at the very edge of the street.
It was a $100 bill!
I started looking around to see if I was being filmed.
No one was around; it was just me and the found treasure.
I grew up Catholic. Feelings of guilt began to rise within. Mea culpa. Mea cupla. Mea maxima culpa.
But only for a second.
Mea maxima cnote.
It must be my week.
Last night I made a donation to Sam and Jeff’s charity ride. I chalk up today’s bounty to bike karma.
Maybe if you made a donation, you’d get some bike karma too.
It was hawt (as they say in Beantown) for the ride home. I made it about 9 1/2 miles before the rumbles of thunder turned to rain. Just enough cool rain to take the edge off the heat. When I turned off the trail about 3 miles later the rain stopped.
When I got home, my lawn looked bone dry. Go figure.
Strange day.
As the days have gotten hotter, my blog posting has slowed along with my riding speed.
We are in a week of dog days characterized by oppressive heat and humidity. For office workers like me this means that I have a somewhat uncomfortable bike commute. I am mighty glad I am not a roofer or working on a road crew.
This time of year begins the migration of birds south. Downy egrets sprinkle the near side of the river. Cormorants too. Days are getting shorter. I leave work in twilight. It almost makes me want to move to South America. Muy loco. How about Australia? Or New Zealand? Or Thailand? Crazier still.
I’m talking nonsense.
Today, as I rode to work, a sense of calm came over me. Stresses in my life that have been bothering me off and on for months finally fell away. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than, as the song says, right here, right now.
Tonight, after work, I met up with Sam, the organizer of the Pennsylvania Avenue protest this summer. We had a good talk over a beer in the downtown neighborhood called Penn Quarter. After about 45 minutes we went our separate ways. Two beers plus heat and humidity made for a tedious ride home.
It may have been tedious getting here but it is home. And there is comfort in that.
One life, some bicycles. A million possibilities, zero clue!
Information and news from David Goodrich, author of A Hole in the Wind.
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