It’s been a grand month. The home front has settled down with house guests gone back to Connecticut and Thailand. September is the start of the fall bicycle event season highlighted by the 50 States Ride. There was many other goings on so, as they say on the Interwebs, let’s get to it.
Reading
Land by Maggie O’Farrell. O’Farrell’s follow up to Hamnet is the epic tale of a rural Irish family in the mid-nineteenth century. In many ways it bookends nicely with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn which I read last month. And it’s every bit as good. From the first page to the last, O’Farrell tells a story using vivid word pictures. We meet an Irish family oppressed by their English overlords, a generation after The Great Hunger which killed hundreds of thousands and led to the Irish diaspora. This book has it all: mysticism and Catholicism, familial love and abandonment, sudden death and unexpected survival. Three quarters of my ancestry is Irish. Page after page, I could not help but wonder what horrors my ancestors endured for me to even be alive much less prosperous. Regardless of ancestry, the reader will find this book every bit the treasure as Betty Smith’s account of Irish Americans surviving in the Brooklyn slums.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean Dominique Bauby. In the prime of his life, 43-year-old Bauby, the editor of the French fashion magazine Elle, has a massive stroke that leaves him with “locked in syndrome.” Paralyzed from the neck down, he dictated this brief memoir using only his left eye to communicate. His body is in an imaginary diving bell, his thoughts butterflies flittering around in his head. One day you’re driving your kid to an evening out with his dad, the next you are emerging from a coma in a rehab hospital. Neil Finn was right, “I could go at anytime. There’s nothing safe about this life.”
A Walk in the Park by Kevin Fedarko. This is the tale of Fedarko and his photographer friend Pete McBride who hike the length of the Grand Canyon. Along the way they are brought from rank ignorance about the endeavor to intimate understanding of the difficulties of backcountry hiking. I have never been to the Canyon but this book undoubtedly gave me more knowledge about it than any tourist visit might have. Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods is similar in tone, but the difficulty of Bryson’s fitful hiking on the Appalachian Trail pales in comparison to what Fedarko and McBride endured. The AT is a straightforward trail. In contrast a Grand Canyon transect, as it is called, involves trail hiking, trudging up gorges, scaling cliffs, repelling into slot canyons, and enduring all manner of dangers far exceeding anything the AT poses.
Riding
I managed to reach 85,000 miles on The Mule before sending it for some TLC at a local bike shop. I have noticed that I am no longer riding pain free on my non-recumbent bikes, which means it’s time to see a back doctor. Ugh.
On the 19th I rode down the street to vote. No line. Early voting is great.
On the 26th I did my 18th 50 States Ride. It was windy and wet and lots of fun. Okay, not lots but we had a group of mostly newbies who didn’t complain when the going got hilly and windy and soggy. I was pleasantly surprised at how well I held up.
Over the course of the month, I rode 891 miles, one more than in March. I split the workload between my three main bikes. I finished the month with 7.775 miles for the year, If I maintain this pace (I won’t), I’ll hit 10,395 for the year.
Medical
My month began with a lingering sinus and chest cold. It sapped my energy but I applied naps and felt better after a bit over a week. I donated blood at the BloodMobile down the street. This time I remembered to not take my daily baby aspirin so that all of my blood (instead of just the plasma) could be used. A short time after the donation, I received a covid booster and my annual flu shot.
Watching
Washington Nationals – The local nine’s tailspin continued, fueled by a historically woeful bullpen. The truth is that if the team spends some money on three relievers during the offseason, they have a decent shot at making the playoffs next year. On the plus side they won 11 more games this year than last. The finished in fourth (out of five) place.
Ryan Van Duzer is posting a video series about his latest ride on the Great Divide Bike Route. I’m finding it entertaining but he’s a bit weird.
Meanwhile Mat Ryder posted a series on his Tour Dinerica, in the Balkans. He begins with his pre-tour planning right through the the tour itself.
Yesterday was the 2026 edition of the 50 States Ride here in DC. This is the signature event of the Washington Area Bicyclists Association calendar. It was my 18th time and one wonders if I will ever learn my lesson. This ride is hard. It about 61 miles with over 2,800 feet of elevation gain though all areas of DC. The cue sheet is 22 pages long! Because of all the turns, traffic lights, stop signs, and traffic, the ride feels more like 100 miles. Each year the course is tweaked which helps to keep things interesting. The streets are open to traffic but a good chunk of the course is on trails and protected bike lanes and through traffic-lite parks.
The Route
The Crew
For the last several years I have ridden this event with Chris, Kevin, and Michael. Michael opted to go scuba diving in Indonesia this year. (He was probably drier than we were.) Sara and Neena joined us as they have off and on in recent years. We were joined by friends Beth, Taylor, Kyle, Mark, Emily, Christine, and Chelsea. (I am almost certainly leaving someone out, so let me know in the comments, please.) To a person they were mentally and physically up to the task in addition to being intelligent, witty, and generally nice to be around. (Also, Sara gives out amazing hugs.)
In keeping with tradition, those of us who follow the paper cue sheet instead of the provided GPS file, make at least one wrong turn. I managed to rack up three despite my experience. (Pro tip #1: don’t assume the riders you see down the street in front of you on the course!)
The Warm Up
Although the ride is notorious for its hills, there are long stretches where it is mostly level. The 11 miles to the first pit stop are on the east side of the city. They include a couple of short-ish warm up hills. During this section we picked off Rhode Island, Michigan, South Dakota, Montana, West Virginia, Florida, Maryland, Tennessee, North Carolina, New Jersey, and Virginia. The pit stop was at the new Bridge District development on the east side of the Anacostia River.
The pit stop took a long time because there was only one bathroom for 300, um. coffee drinkers. We were one of the last groups to leave so we knew we’d be near the end of the pack. (Pro tip #2: instead of using the pit stop facilities, use a restroom in one of the National parks.)
Up We Go
Back on the route, we headed up from the river for the first big climbs of the day. We rode up Malcolm X Avenue and then down to Mississippi only to begin a long slog up to the peak of this part of town, mostly along Alabama Avenue. These two climbs amounted to about 450 feet of elevation gain in 4 miles. After a quick taste of Pennsylvania Avenue we rode along the high ground until we descended down Texas Avenue into a traffic sewer on busy Benning Road.
Flat Isn’t a 4-Letter Word
For the next 17 miles we rode on level terrain (Capitol Hill is more of a bump than a hill). We did a couple of yards (no lie) on Minnesota, then back to and across the Anacostia. Re-crossing the river, we wound our way to Maine Avenue in the Wharf neighborhood, picking off Oklahoma, Kentucky, South Carolina, and Delaware in the process.
At this point, I started to feel light droplets of rain. Then it seemed to stop, for a while. Fingers crossed.
We rode into East Potomac Park and cruised nearly four miles on level ground. Half way! Then it was back to reality. A brief cruise along the National Mall took us to Capitol Hill. We rode a circuit picking off Washington on the south side of the Capitol and briefly dabbing on Louisiana at the base of the west side of the hill.
We crossed downtown and, after a few blocks on Indiana, we arrived at pit stop number two. Here, Chris and Chelsea rode ahead and Sara, as she had planned, went home. Onward!
The next seven miles were rolling terrain up through Adams Morgan and Kalorama. As we progressed we picked off New York, Vermont, California, and Wyoming. Rain was starting to fall. Ugh.
A DC Moment
Approaching Embassy Row on Massachusetts, we were beckoned by a woman in traditional dress in front of the Cameroon Embassy. The embassy was having an open house and we were invited in. One of our crew took her up on her offer. As it turns out, he is soon to be stationed in Cameroon for work!
Across Georgetown and the Palisades
We crossed Rock Creek Park into Georgetown where multimillion dollar brick townhomes grow like weeds. We turned right on Wisconsin and, following the directions on our cue sheets, we climb a half mile in rain and very heavy traffic. We were unhappy. And I knew that the cue made no sense. Later we learned that the cue sheet omitted a turn which would have saved us much aggravation. Ultimately we found our way back to the route on Reservoir Avenue which we took two mostly flat miles to Arizona Avenue where the fun began.
To the Heights!
With the cold rain and a breeze, we began the biggest climb of the day. (The Lime bikeshare company offered free shuttles to the top. If you look up “inane” in your dictionary you’ll see a picture of this operation.) In less than a mile we climbed 250 feet, mostly on Arizona Avenue. Huffing and puffing, I made it to the top without an adverse cardio-pulmonary event. (To be honest, I think I had a tailwind but don’t tell anybody.) The crew was waiting for me. Such a nice group of young whippersnappers.
Our efforts were rewarded with a mile-long easy stretch that included Nebraska and New Mexico before we experienced the 150-foot assault on Cathedral Avenue to aptly named Cathedral Heights. Ugh.
Digitally Rolling through Chevy Chase
The ensuing terrain featured a series of mostly short climbs and descents that were interrupted by pit stop number three. With the rain coming down the pit stop crew was itching to pack up. They asked if we were the last riders. Only then did we realize that Kevin had gone missing! He showed up a few minutes later with two Brompton riders that we had been seeing off and on all day. Kevin had also fallen victim to the cue sheet issue in Georgetown so he made the executive decision to use his phone to access the digital GPS file. In any case, my cue sheet was starting to fall apart from the rain.
Our next task was to ride to the highest point in DC at Fort Reno. This took us through the posh neighborhood of Chevy Chase. We covered Nevada and Utah, before descending to Oregon and briefly entering Rock Creek Park.
10 States in the Wind and the Rain
We climbed out of the park and rode on Alaska Avenue, cleverly the northernmost state on the route. We stopped at the last pit stop in a development on the grounds of the old Walter Reed Army Hospital. At this point we were so soggy and cold that we needed to be put out of our misery. Time to roll!
Phone in hand, Kevin expertly led the charge picking off North Dakota, Missouri, Colorado, Georgia, Arkansas, Iowa, Kansas, Illinois, and New Hampshire in four, relatively flat miles before one 150-foot, half-mile climb out of the Petworth neighborhood. At last, we descended to our last state, Hawaii. Book ’em, Danno.
To the Finish
Hawaii felt more like Iceland so without delay we headed to and through the campus of the Catholic University and down 4th Street NE to the finish.
We were given rousing cheers by the finish line crew as we arrived. Despite standing around for hours in the cold and wind, they were incredibly upbeat. Or relieved. Who can say? Surprisingly, they had an ample supply of t-shirts left. This was evidence in my mind, that we were not so much the slowest group as we were the last ones that didn’t quit during the monsoon.
We all decided that going to the post-ride party shivering in wet clothes was not something we featured doing so the crew parted ways. After all, you can only take masochism so far.
Last Thoughts
Course Marshalls: With so much experience, we really don’t need them so they can be annoying. Unlike most other years, however, the course marshals were generally pretty helpful. They made sure drivers were aware of us as we crossed busy streets and were otherwise good natured. Hats off to Ian for staying with us for the soggiest part of the ride.
Safety: Despite the crummy weather, we didn’t see any rider-involved accidents. We had two close calls. Taylor nearly got nailed taking a left turn from the protected bike lane on West Virginia. Screech! Honk! No felony, no foul. He later remarked that it was actually a good thing because it heightened his alertness for the rest of the ride. The second incident came when yours truly started to roll through a signal at an intersection on the way to Indiana. A well deserved honk stopped me in my tracks.
Mecahnical and Medical Issues
Other than an annoying loose fender on Mark’s Brompton and a fidgety clip on Neena’s pedal, we had no mechanical issues.
Chris had planned to abandon the ride when his balky shoulder became too painful. No worries, he did the whole damned thing.
As for me, I have been dealing with an intermittent dry cough. I used my albuterol inhaler (I have mild asthma) and it helped me get through some annoying coughing fits. Alas, after I arrived home I had a super painful leg cramp in the inside of my left thigh. My wife came to the rescue with pickle juice (IYKYK) and a glass of water with a Nuun electrolyte tablet. (Next time I’ll drink more water and dedicate one bottle to Nuun water.)
Friends and Other Nice People
I chatted with several friends during the day. Brian, among many other things a founder of Friday Coffee Club, is usually one of the very first riders to start. We caught him as he checked in. He wanted to finish to meet up with his wife and son in the afternoon. He succeeded. Annette stopped by to say hello. She rode 50 States with us a couple of years ago. She did the 30 miler this year. I see Jeanne at nearly every DC bike event. She is a big supporter of cycling in DC. She has the personality of a born seller which is a good thing since she works for Compass Real Estate on Capitol Hill.
For the second time in three years, an old friend appeared out of nowhere at the third pit stop. Ryan and I haven’t seen each other in years. He and I (and a different Kevin) did a bike tour from Pittsburgh to DC. in 2015. He recently crashed his bike in a race and suffered extensive damage to his collarbone and shoulder. He showed me his surgery scar. Impressive. As was, in an entirely more positive way, his friend Julie.
At the second pit stop a tall rider came up to me and addressed me as Rootchopper. I am sure he has done the same at least at one other event but for the life of me I can’t remember his name or face. (Nothing personal. My fusiform gyrus is defective.) Thanks for saying hello.
The People of DC
In every neighborhood, people yelled encouragement to us. We heard words of encouragement from people on their porches, on the sidewalks, on road construction crews, and, god help is all, from people in cars. I don’t think I heard a cross word all day. Bravo, DC!
The Folks Who Made it Happen
The WABA staff and volunteers did a great job under less-than-ideal conditions. The route designers remarkably avoided any snafus with the unpredictable street closures near the White House.
Constructive Criticsm
Pit Stops: Food was generally rather lame and sparse at the pit stops. It’s hard to tell if this is because faster riders and riders on the 30-mile route are gluttons or if the quantities and types of food need to be improved. (WABA does a much better job of this at the Cider Ride, by the way.) Ditto on the rest room facilities. Riders shouldn’t have to wait 20 to 30 minutes.
Cue Sheets: Maybe I am old school but I much prefer using a paper cue sheet to being guided by a digital device. In my way of thinking. riding is a great way to get away from such nonsense. That said, this year’s paper cue sheet was, to put it bluntly, terrible. Critical turns were omitted. The worst of these was the one in Georgetown. Two states were not mentioned at all: Washington and Indiana. (Having done this ride before I knew where they were but new riders wouldn’t.) Some of the cues were nonsensical. (Left on Wisconsin, Right on Wisconsin, Right on Wisconsin, after the third pit stop, for example. Worse, there is no cue to get from the pit stop to Wisconsin.)
T-shirts: In prior years, late finishers like me sometimes didn’t get the t-shirts they signed up for. This year there were plenty available. I don’t know if this was because of people abandoning the ride or because WABA changed its ordering practices. In any case, I had a choice of sizes to choose from. A better way would be to hand out the t-shirts at the start as is done at the Great Pumpkin Ride in October.
Please, Sir, May I Have Another
Before the day of the event, I thought this year’s 50 States was going finish me. In spite of the weather, I think I did okay this year. 19th 50 at 72? Time will tell.
The weather has been amazing the last couple of days here in Northern Virginia. Temps in the 70s, low humidity,, light breezes. Roll-down-you-window weather.
Yesterday I was riding home down South Royal Street in Old Town Alexandria. I stopped for a stop sign at an intersection with four stop signs. The car on my left had stopped and proceeded through the intersection. As did the car on my right. So far, so good. As I started to move through the intersection, I saw that the driver of a white work van to my right not only ignored his stop sign but actually accelerated into the intersection directly at me. I yelled STOP and the driver, whose window was open, slammed on the brakes. His tires smoked. I could see and hear loose items shift forward violently inside the van. The deceleration caused the driver to bend his upper body over his steering wheel. I made it through rattled but in one piece.
Today, a half mile from home I was riding Big Nellie, my long wheel base recumbent, down a street about a half mile from an elementary school. An SUV approached on the side street to my right. The driver had a stop sign. The driver utterly ignore the sign. I looked over and could see that I was screened from the driver’s view by the driver’s mirror. Once again, I yelled STOP. Once again the driver’s window was open. She slammed on the brakes.
For the life of me, I am hoping the good weather sticks around for a while.
Today was supposed to be one of those run-of-the-mill, 30-mile Wednesdays. It couldn’t be much further as I am nursing the remnants of my two-week cold. Out of the house at 10:30, I headed for the glass recycling bin with an empty queso jar in my handlebar bag. After my deposit, I rode a 11-mile meander to the gym where I began my second full year of self abuse on eight upper body workstations. You’d be amazed at how buff I have become. Actually, the only thing buff about me is the Buff neck gaiter I wear to protect me from the sun.
Speaking of the sun, I failed to mention that it was hot and muggy, again. I can ride forever in heat. I can ride for ages in humidity. Put them together and I am lucky to stay upright. Thankfully, the gym is air conditioned so my workout allowed for recovery from the elements.
After the gym I did a five-mile, flat recover ride that ended up at a hardware store (also conveniently air conditioned) were I bought some things for a lawn project I am working on.
Next I headed north on side streets toward the Potomac Yard Metro station. The view of the skies ahead for the entire mile-and-a-half ride was ominous. Black clouds were building. As I approached the turn-around just shy of the station, winds increased and began to swirl, stirring up road grit in the process. Some of the grit managed to get into my right eye, temporarily blinding me. I stopped to wash my eye out with the water in one of my bottles. Man, did it sting. A minute later all was calm in my eye but the wind storm was anything but. The trees were bending. The gust were coming seemingly from all directions. Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome, time for this one to go home.
Fortunately for me, the turn for home was greeting with a gale force tail wind. I immediately accelerated and cruised to the Old Town Alexandria waterfront. With each passing city block the sprinkles turned to light rain turned to….a raging thunderstorm. As I rode, I scanned my surroundings for places to take shelter. During my reconnaissance I became completely drenched. The temperature dropped noticeably, making stopping a bad idea. Better to be wet and riding in puddles than wet and shivering under an awning.
I forged ahead. BOOM. The water on my sunglasses blinded me. I used my handy dandy index finger wiper blades. I was doing okay until Jones Point Park where my helmet smacked into a rain-laden tree branch. Doink! I looked up and saw cascades of water spewing into the river as they poured through drainage conduits on the Wilson Bridge.
I made my way to the Mount Vernon Trail still getting poured on. The tailwind made up for any discomfort. The handful of trail users headed my way seemed to be enjoying their slog into the storm. My attention was focused on the trees along the trail. Having made it within six mile of home, I would have hated to have a tree limb (or entire tree) come down on me. That sort of think can ruin your whole day. Runoff from the adjacent GW Parkway gushed across the trail as I continued south.
About four miles from home, the storm eased. I could see what looked like blue sky through the raindrops on my glasses. About a mile from home I sensed that I had dried out sufficiently to shop for some stakes for my lawn project. The neighborhood variety store didn’t have any but I made sure to leave them a puddle on their floor for their assistance anyway. I found what I was looking for in the hardware store. Hardware stores are generally more tolerant of scuzzy customers so I felt no guilt about my soggy appearance.
I bought six metal stakes that I managed to bungee to my rear rack. They rattled a bit but stayed in place for the last mile home. I am thankful that I didn’t clip them with my leg as I dismounted. It would have been a major drag to end my wee adventure by fall ungracefully onto the wet lawn.
Soggy but proud I came to realize some benefits of my ordeal. I had planned to water the lawn in preparation for my project tomorrow. No need! And the early Nats game was delayed so I could watch most of it on TV. They were down 8-0 after eight innings so I also got in a nap.
