When September 2025 Ends

Another month of spinning my wheels has hit the books.

Riding

The month began with a bang as I rode 67 miles on Big Nellie to reach 54,000 miles. My riding comfort and efficiency was greatly increased by the use of pedal extenders married to big Catalyst platform pedals. I bought new pedal extenders and platform pedals for The Mule. The Mule and I rode my 17th 50 States Ride with a posse of veteran 50 Staters. It was nice to have Timothee and Domitille back in the fold. Too bad Domitille and I had to do the ride without our granny gears. We survived.

I rode to Friday Coffee Club each week and watched the sunrise creep toward 7 pm.

After the 50 States Ride I fiddled with the saddle position on The Mule to get the most out of my new pedal set up. After a couple of tries I hit the sweet spot.

I need The Mule for one more event ride, The WABA Cider Ride in early November. Its chain is pretty much toast after a season of riding so I switched back to Big Nellie at the end of the month. My plan is to do the Great Pumpkin Ride in late October on the ‘bent.

For the month I clocked in at 864 miles. My year-to-date mileage is 7,790. I’m 311 miles ahead of schedule to reach 10,000 miles, for 8th consecutive year.

Reading

The Man Who Died Seven Times by Yasuhiko Nishisawa. As in any Agatha Christie novel, a murder occurs amid a large gathering of people. The protagonist re-lives the day of the murder, stuck in a time loop like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Who done it? Can the protagonist use the time loop to undo it? A fun romp reminiscent of The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle. For me it was a pleasant turn of the page so to speak from a month of Mark Twain. Birthday book #1.

You Dreamed of Empires by Alvaro Enrigue. A bizarre re-imagining of the day Hernando Cortes entered the Aztec capital complex of Montezuma. This one’s got it all: hallucinogens (mushrooms, cactus, tomatoes), ritual human sacrifices, murders, beheadings and dismemberments, cannibalism, rape and sodomy, and palace intrigue out the wazoo. Birthday book #2.

The Sweet Forever by George Pelicanos. My fifth or sixth Pelcanos book of the year. This one is set in DC during March 1986. Len Bias is blazing through March Madness on his way to being selected 2nd in the NBA draft. Mayor Marion Barry is coking and whoring all over town as his city government becomes overwhelmed with graft. And the pre-crack cocaine trade on U Street NW is disrupted by a stolen pillow case filled with drug money. The lives of two corrupt cops, an honest record store owner, and a drug kingpin become intertwined. Depressing as hell but the best Pelicanos book that I have read so far.

Watching

Thunderbolts – The latest dud from Marvel. Really made me long for Robert Downey, Junior in a cave.

Elbow at Club 9:30. This is at least the third time we’ve seen this band at the 9:30. They were a bit jet lagged but put on a great show as usual. My unfamiliarity with their last two albums meant that the first half of the show dragged a bit but they finished strong and had the crowd singing in harmony to their last few numbers.

Elvis Costello and the Imposters at the Warner Theater. I don’t own a single record of Costello’s but he’s as good as it gets at making rootsy rock and roll. The audience looked like it was bussed in from retirement homes. So much gray hair. The concert itself was meh. Oddly the best song was the last and not one of Costello’s: Slow Down by Larry Williams.

The Washington Nationals. I attended a few more games. Long story short, they stunk. It was fun to watch the emergence of Daylen Lyle as a budding superstar though. The highlight of the season and the last game was the spontaneous farewell the fans gave the White Sox Michael A. Taylor, a former National and 2019 World Series hero who retired.

Fifty States 2025: 50 + 58 + 200 + 22 + 70 = 17

Let’s Start with Some Math

The event is the 50 States Ride, the Washington Area Bicyclists Association annual trek on the streets of DC. The route rambles all over the city so that participants ride on each of the streets named for a US state (plus Columbia Road for those who want statehood for DC).

The distance is normally about 60 miles. Each year WABA tweaks the route. This year’s version clocked in at 58.4 miles. Nobody complained. Did I mention that the route is notoriously hilly? Well, now I did. And now that I think about it, you should know that the streets are open to car traffic. Hats off to all those DC drivers who waited patiently for us.

According to WABA’s Jordan Mittleman, the route included some 200 turns. The cue sheet, for those of us old timers who hate digital maps, is 22 pages long. I kid you not.

Since I turned 70 this year, I was expecting to be challenged. Indeed I was. I found out when we hit 18th Street Northeast at about 2 1/2 miles into the day that my granny (climbing) gears were not working. Yeah well. Suck it up, gramps.

Weather conditions were as good as it gets. Overcast skies, light breezes, temperatures in the 70s. It was a bit humid but I wasn’t complaining one bit.

So here is the tale of my 17th 50 States Ride.

The Posse

Each year I ride with a group of friends. For the first time that I can recall this year’s posse contained no rookies. Michael, Chris, Kevin, and I are the most experienced. Next come Sara, Neena, Domitille, and Domitille’s husband Timotheé. (Michael has a painful bone bruise in his knee; he would depart the route at about 15 miles, but met us at the finish with pizza in hand.) Lastly, we were joined for the first eight miles by Jon who had to speed ahead after the first pit stop at the eight-mile mark to make a soccer daddy pickup in the afternoon.

Gear Woes

Weirdly, Domitille had the same granny gear problem that I did. Sad face. Sara had an issue with her front derailleur as well but cleverly found a bike shop near the first pit stop and had it repaired.

The Ride Itself

We began near Metrobar in Eckington in Northeast DC, close to the center of the city. To avoid congestion and other problems, we left just before WABA released the first of many groups led by ride marshals.

The first eight miles took us through northeast DC, west of the Anacostia River. We encountered only a couple of hills along the way and, thanks to route changes, we spent all but 200 yards on Michigan and South Dakota Avenues, two notorious car sewers. Heading south we passed Gallaudet University and, shortly thereafter, the ghost bike of our departed friend Dave Salovesh on Florida Avenue.

The route started a spiral through Capitol Hill, the Navy Yard, and Hill East neighborhoods. In five miles we bagged seven states.

Have celery, will ride

As we rode through Hill East and over the river to Anacostia, we began to encounter a problem. The marshal-led groups began to swallow our group up, causing delays at stop lights and, worse, numerous near crashes. We made a nearly three-mile climb up to Alabama Avenue Southeast. We rode on level ground for three miles in an annoying cluster of apparently novice riders mixed with cars and Metrobuses.

As per tradition, I made a wrong turn onto 18th Place Southwest, but corrected myself before trailing riders followed me. We turned down 18th Street Southwest and hit the long mile of Mississippi Avenue with its humongous speed bumps. We then turned straight back up for 3/10s of a mile back to Alabama. Mississippi was so no worth it. On the bright side we were about to begin 16 miles of nearly level terrain.

Another couple of miles mostly on Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard took us downhill to the 11th Street Bridge where Neena has stopped to direct us onto the ramp to the bridge. Thanks, Neena.

Here’s where the congestion really began to cause problems. We now had at least two marshalled groups and our posse all trying to ride on narrow cycletracks. To make matters worse, the marshals stopped to figure out the route. Ugh.

On the Virginia Avenue cycletrack the rides all queued up for nearly a block at a red light. Not gonna work folks. I jumped on an empty adjacent brick sidewalk and rode past the group. The light turned green but the marshal in the lead was not paying attention. No wonder we were clustering up. Only when I rode past him did he wake up. We came to a crosswalk with some pedestrians in it. I slowed and signaled for trailing riders to stop. After we were underway again, the ADD marshal pulled up along side me and told me in a patronizing tone of voice how I did a good thing. Thank you, Mister Wonderful.

After another pit stop we began another spiral in the southern part of Northwest DC. For sanity’s sake, I left the pit stop ahead of the marshal groups. I Street Northwest has a cycletrack with synchronized traffic lights. I sped up to 14 miles per hour and ran the deck. (My friend Brian would call this “a perfect”.) After passing the District Wharf I rode up the hill toward L’Enfant Plaza where I saw two middle aged tourists on rental e-bikes. Rather than use the protected bike lane the first tourist used a curb cut to ride onto the sidewalk. The trailing tourist did the same but hit a low concrete barrier and took a tumble. A pedestrian ran to her aid. The rider landed in some soft-looking grass so I am sure she will be fine after a couple of beverages.

I rode the Case Bridge over the Washington Channel into East Potomac Park to loop back onto Ohio Drive Southeast. As I did I passed back under the bridge to see the parade of marshal-led riders overhead. Soon I found myself riding on Independence Avenue in a big gap between marshalled riders. Nice.

Our route took us around the Capitol and over near Union Station. The posse had caught up to me here. The next few miles involved a short ride on a sidewalk to Delaware Avenue and a yards-long turn on and off Louisiana Avenue. (We actually missed this one a couple of years ago.)

We took D Street into the core of downtown and made our way to our third pit stop. Domitille and I hoofed it three blocks to a restroom. I’d never have found it without her. South one block. East two blocks. South one block. Down a glass elevator! Maybe WABA should have a 50 bathroom hike.

After the pit stop we played Pac-Man, wending through downtown, Adams Morgan, and Kalorama picking up eight states land Columbia Road. This was a bit traffic-y but we were no longer riding with the marshalled groups.

At E Street Northwest we crossed over Rock Creek Park into Georgetown. It was time to get serious.

We rode the rollers on Reservoir Avenue past Georgetown University Hospital and the French and German Embassies. After a one-mile respite on MacArthur Boulevard we turned to climb the dreaded Palisades hill. We climbed for about a mile. Some of the grades were around 12 percent. I stopped once to catch my breath and let my granny-deprived legs cool down. But I rode the whole damned thing.

Domitille had to walk some of the hill but Timotheé, rode back down the hill to escort her. Awww.

The climb was followed by a short descent to another half mile uphill stretch to Cathedral Heights. Fortunately we had only a mile to go before our next pit stop at a Wegman’s in the City Ridge development.

After about a 20 minute rest, we forged ahead around Fort Reno and through Chevy Chase, DC, picking up five more states in four miles. Oregon Avenue took us down into Rock Creek Park. Shady. Car free. Yay. Short-lived. Boo. We climbed a mile out of the park, topping out at Alaska Avenue, fittingly the northern most state street on the route. This was the last big climb of the day. Double yay. As we turned off of Alaska Avenue we were captured in all our sweaty splendor by the camera of Patti Heck. Each year, rain or shine, Patti takes pictures of the riders here. Over 500 pictures this year alone.

We crossed into Tacoma for our final pit stop at the home of Mike and Lisa and their cats (so many cats). Such nice people. With eight miles to go, we could smell the finish. After scarfing some snacks, we set off down to Petworth for five more states in three miles. Sara and I lost contact with the rest of the posse but picked up Cathy and a young guy who’s name I didn’t get. Nice people, We rolled over to and down Hawaii, our 50th state! (Well played, WABA.)

We continued down to Catholic University. At one point the route cuts through the campus but Cathy convinced us that simply riding the adjacent Metropolitan Branch Trail straight to the finish made more sense. We finished at 4 p. m., about eight hours after we started.

At the finish, we picked up our t-shirts and re-joined the posse for post-ride drinks and food. I was feeling every one of my 70 years.

The Posse: (L to R) Kevin, Sara, Neena, Michael, Domitille, Chris, Me, and Timotheé

Congrats to the posse. Well done, especially Sara, Domitille, and Timotheé who did the ride on next to no training.

As for me, despite all the miles I ride, I was a hurting unit. 50 > 70 it seems. I should have eaten the celery.

Thanks

Thanks to the crew at WABA that put this whole thing together. This year’s course tweaks made for an interesting ride. Also, I am thankful that this year there was more than enough water and snacks at the pit stops. And there were plenty of t-shirts for late arriving riders at the finish line.

WABA people with volunteers at the start

Also, thanks to the volunteers at the pit stops, especially Mike and Lisa.

Cruising into Fall

Labor Day: I had planned on riding Big Nellie to the baseball game on Labor Day but I went on the day before and witnessed the Nationals’ ninth consecutive loss. Being the baseball addict that I am, I went twice more. Hey, the ballpark is 15 miles from home. During my most recent game I looked up and saw two friends, Lucy and Steve, on the big screen beyond center field. Lucy was selected to play a game: guess which National will hit a home run and win $500 in Nats Bucks (money you can spend at the ballpark). Alas, no Nat hit a homer. Sad trombone.

No dingers for you!

Big Nellie’s 54th: On September 1 the weather was ideal. The riding objective was 67 miles. This would bring Big Nellie’s odometer to 54,000 miles. I began with a ride to the local rec center to lift some weights. The rec center is a little over three miles from my house, but I stretched it to 15. The next 42 miles took me into DC where I saw DC things. First. I passed a large crowd boisterously protesting the Trump takeover of Union Station (as a Secret Service helicopter circled overhear). Next I encountered a new extension of the cycletrack on First Street, NE. It took me north through the infamous car sewer known locally as Dave Thomas Circle. (Before its recent redesign it had a Wendy’s burger joint in the middle of the intersection. Thomas was the CEO of Wendy’s.) A few miles later I came upon the new extension of the Metropolitan Branch Trail. Sadly it ends after only a quarter mile at another car sewer called Riggs Road.

50 States: A secondary purpose of the September 1 ride was to check out the on-street parking situation for this Saturday’s 50 States Ride. There is beaucoup on-street, all-day, free parking. As for the ride, the posse is now: Chris, Kevin, Neena, Sara, Domitille, Timothee, and me. Michael is also riding but, because of an injury to his knee, he expects to ride only a portion of the event. I’m sure we’ll add a few more victims on Saturday.

Pedalling Made Easier: I put pedal extenders on Big Nellie along with my fancy pants Catalyst platform pedals. The extenders move the pedals about an inch further away from the frame. This slight modification has made quite a difference in terms of comfort and efficiency. Back in 2019 I suffered through 3,000 miles on a sore left knee and left hip. Knowing what I know now, I may have ridden without pain had I used pedal extenders. I ordered a new set of both the extenders and the Catatlyst pedals for The Mule. The Mule abides.

Rocket Man: I plan on doing 50 States on The Mule. Everyone else I am riding with is using a conventional, non-recumbent bike so riding The Mule means I won’t get dropped (as badly) on climbs or zoom way ahead on downhills as I would on Big Nellie. During a day ride in Alexandria The Mule and I stopped for a snack. I checked my phone and stumbled on the fact that I was about three miles from the grave of a famous man, Werhner von Braun. He was the father of the program that designed Nazi Germany’s V1 and V2 rockets. At the end of the war, he and his rocketry team (and other German scientists) were brought to a top secret interviewing facility at Fort Hunt Park. The program was known as Operation Paperclip. After the war, he and his team were secretly moved to Huntsville, Alabama to begin work on US missiles and, eventually, the NASA space program. Ultimately, they designed the Apollo Saturn V rocket.

Double Stab: Not wanting to go through another year of worry about Covid, I arranged to get a booster shot at a local drug store after the state of Virginia declared that prescriptions were not necessary for high risk (old, asthmatic) people. I also got a flu shot. Take that Bobby.

Crash #3: This has been my year for bike crashes. In the Spring, I managed to crash my bike in the C&O Canal. Instead of taking a side path through the woods to get to the towpath, I decided to ride into and up out of the canal at Riley’s Lock where the canal is dry. I did fine until I made it only part way up to the towpath and toppled over. (My friend Leslie did the same thing a few months later.) During my road test of the Streetmachine recumbent bike this summer, I toppled over and messed up my upper right arm and shoulder. My arm aches from time to time, especially when I am trying to sleep. With stretching, weight lifting, and medications, I almost had it back to normal when I crashed a third time. I was riding up a slight rise in the road near my house. I was tired and had my head down. Where the road widened I looked up and there, not two feet in front of me, was a parked car. I hit it with a glancing blow and fell on my left side. The deceleration force, however, was enough to re-injure my right arm. Argh.

Sunrise: It’s that time of year again when the sun is coming up over the river at Dyke Marsh on the Mount Vernon Trail just as I am riding to Friday Coffee Club. The sight makes up for riding the first three miles in the twilight.

The Mule at sunrise at Duke Marsh