It was a tweener weather day. The thermometer said 49 degrees. Fog hung on the moors. Hounds bayed in the gloom. I decided to wear my rain pants over my shorts to avoid freezing. Instead, withing a mile or two, my legs were wet from sweat. Big Nellie’s fairing was making my legs uncomfortably warm. In Old Town I passed Nancy Duley, who was wearing lycra bikes shorts. She had pulled over to the side of the trail to take a bracing pull from her bourbon-filled flask. Okay, I made that last part up. She was straddling her bike on the side of the trail. We said our “Good Mornings!” as I rode past. It just occurred to me that she is always smiling. And she almost always seems to be riding away from work. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

About a half mile after my encounter with Ms. Duley, I decided that cold legs were better than sweaty legs. I stopped and pulled off my rain pants. It was good planning that I had worn mountain bike shorts underneath, because, otherwise, I’d be writing this from the Alexandria City jail. Back on the bike again I realized I had traded warm, sweaty legs for cold, wet legs. Scar was right. Life’s not fair.

The rest of the ride into Rosslyn was copacetic. I didn’t get killed riding through the Circle of Doom, otherwise I’d be writing this from the great beyond, the sweet by and by.

We had our office Christmas lunch today. Just before my food arrived a waiter lost control of a tray he was carrying. I had slung my waterproof bike jacket over the back of my chair. The fallen tray loosed a slow motion splash of ketchup across the back of my jacket. I took the brunt of the splash, thereby saving my office mates from a mass trip to the dry cleaner.

After the lunch we were allowed to go home. I went back to the office for a little bit to finish off some this and that and was on the road long before sunset. I rode home in daylight!!! I didn’t dissolve or sparkle which depending on how old your vampire lore is pretty much means that I am not the undead. I could still be a werewolf but the full moon is weeks away. (Ahhh Oooooh!!!)

Big Nellie did a nice job tacking through the blustery winds. On windy days fairings make for a challenging and rewarding ride.

When I got home, I through the jacket into the washer with some other stinky bike commuting clothes, of which I have bo-ku.

Then I realized that it felt like 2 a.m. at 5 p.m. And I was shaking with cold.

There wasn’t any garlic around and we don’t have a crucifix in the house.

I am the unwell.

I left early this morning. It being just a few days before the winter solstice, this guaranteed me an extra dose of darkness. When you’re working on a vitamin D deficiency, you can’t get too much darkness. In addition to being dark it was foggy. I felt like Rudolph with his nose on backward.

Other than being kind of depressing, it was a pretty nifty commute. The Mount Vernon Trail was all but empty. Near the power plant I spotted a hawk in a tree looking out over the river. I think it was a hawk. It was big. It didn’t have bald eagle markings. Of course, it could have been an immature bald eagle but I forgot to put an ornithologist on my speed dial so we’ll have to settle for generic hawk.

In addition to being foggy it was warm-ish. I left the holey sweater at home and wore a t-shirt over my base layer.

The ride home was a replay of the ride in. Except there were several ninjas. So far I’ve done an amazing job of not thinning the ninja herd. It’s bad when you wear all dark clothing on an unlit trail. It’s worse still if you are backlit by car headlights. It’s almost inevitable that I will hit one of them. They are simply impossible to see until I am right on top of them. I am averaging a whopping 11.3 miles per hour so it’s not like I’m setting any speed records or outriding my headlight.

I am looking forward to tomorrow. The temps will be warm-ish for one more day. And I am hoping to leave work early and avoid the headlights on the way home.

On Sunday I plan on riding to the city to see the Hains Point 100. A bunch of cyclists will be riding a 3 mile loop to raise money for the Washington Area Bicyclists Association. WABA is trying to get more women on bikes. Hopefully most of the riders will be women. I have donated in support of Kate , who is riding. Go Kate!

It was cold this morning. 26 degrees at the Masonite-enclosed Rootchopper Weather Center. I was in a hurry to get to the early edition of Friday Coffee Club. It was not to be. I had to dig out my fleece lined over boots and put an extra layer of clothes over my legs.

Big Nellie and I rolled into the darkness. All was well until a light shined down upon us. Trumpets blared. Angels sang. I stopped to take a picture (sadly blurry).

It’s been a tough year for Big Nellie. She had a nasty crash. She tried to eat Flor’s pants. Her chain broke. Her seat needed to be replaced.

All that’s behind her along with 31,000 miles.

I made it to Friday Coffee Club but only after Mary and Lisa had left for work. We passed like bikes in the morning in front of the White House. I am sure the President was looking out his window and thinking, “I wish I could ride my bike to work in the cold. Instead I’m stuck being leader of the free world and stuff.”

Poor Barry.

When I got to Swings for the FCC I was taken aback by the number of people there. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that it was COLD outside.

I met Nancy, a newbie and the thrid graphic artist in attendance. Laura, who hasn’t been coming lately, came despite having an office Christmas party last night. And I learned that you can make a Christmas tree out of a lamp. Sort of.

I left for work a little late. I had a ten o’clock meeting. I got to my desk and an email told me that the meeting was canceled.

I could’ve had another cup.

It’s December 10. But for the limited daylight, it felt like October 10. I mean it was 60 degrees out when I left work. I’d have ridden in shorts but the shorts I had on under my rain pants are immodest to say the least. They are made by a company called Jackson and Gibbons. They are touring shorts with a chamois and an unusually short inseam. I think the polite way to put it is the inseam is too short particularly for male persons. So I have to either wear them with underpants or get arrested for flashing.  This is a shame because they are super comfortable, otherwise.

The ride to work was supposedly into a headwind, but with two days’ rest I felt like i had a tailwind. The Mule wasn’t complaining a bit.  The tree with the Belle Haven nest had two bald eagles in it. And in a smaller tree just in front I spotted a great blue heron. Dang. Birds o’plenty. Just off the trail underneath the Roosevelt Bridge I spotted another heron.

On the way home I could hear some mallards quacking up a storm in the river under the Roosevelt Bridge. I am sure they were all worked up over RGIII. 

Rare Football Digression: I admit that I watched the Redshirts play yesterday. Memo to RGIII: make sure you have a guarantee on the contract, dude. You keep leaving your legs out like that and some big sombitch’s gonna snap ’em right off. Ask that Theisman fella.

So today’s superb bike commuting weather was brought to you by all those folks who drive to work and heat their homes to 76 degrees. The downside is soon I will be able to fish for frankenfish from my front doorstep. 

After nearly a year over on Blogger, I reached my memory limit. That means I can’t add photos to my blog without paying Google for the privilege. Since I am not a fan of Google’s attempts to assimilate me into their Borg-like universe of other products, I’ve decided to move my blatherings over here to WordPress. It’s a bit overwhelming but in time I should have some content up. Stay tuned.

Oh, and if you just stumbled on me here, you can read my old stuff over there.

Every one in DC has allergies. I defy you to find someone who isn’t suffering for a significant portion of the year.  I lived allergy free for most of my young life. While living in Providence I noticed that I would get a headache every spring, but thought nothing of it.

Then I moved to DC. On a periodic basis my head would feel like a lead weight, I’d get nauseous, and I’d cough up bizarre looking gunk.  I had allergies. A few times I even thought I had the flu. As it turned out these episodes were sinus infections.

Why do we in DC get allergies? Because nobody in DC is from DC. If the eastern United States were a Venn diagram, DC would be at the cross over between northern allegens, southern allergens, and Allegheny allergens. Yes, folks we have them all. If you grew up in Vermont, you were never exposed to the plants of the south. Surprise! You are screwed. Same goes for you folks from Georgia who moved here. You will get sick. It’s only a matter of time.

My doctor, who has since left the practice to open up a boutique wellness practice (I am not making this up), advised me some time ago, after my umpteenth sinus infection visit, to go on a daily routine for allergies. This includes a 24-hour non-drowsy antihistamine and a nasal steroid spray. I was already on a daily baby aspirin, a statin, an asthma inhaler, and 24-hour asthma pill,  plus I a fish oil pill. This regimen was starting to get tedious. I stopped taking the statin a couple of years ago because the nerves in my feet went haywire. That still left 5 daily medications. 

At one point Doctor Wellness advised me that the asthma medications might be too much. He invited me to experiment. I found that the Singulair pill was unnecessary so I stopped taking it. My tolerance for nincompoops at work increased dramatically. (It turns out that Singulair makes some people impatient and grumpy.) The inhaler was stayed.

This week I decided to drop the allergy medicine to see how I’d do without them. Short answer: not well.

I went off the allergy medications on Tuesday, rode my bike to work in absolutely glorious weather, and, by Tuesday night, had a stuffy head and a headache.  I used a saline rinse to clear my head and took some ibuprofen and felt fine on Wednesday morning. I rode to work. It was another perfect day for a ride.  I felt fine until about 10 a.m. when I had the urge to throw up.  I walked to the bathroom and called Ralph on the big white phone.

That should make me feel better, I thought. I walked back to my office. In no time Ralph was calling me back. I trudged to the bathroom and Ralph and I had another brief but less productive conversation.

Back at the office the words on my monitor seemed to be saying: RALPH WANTS YOU! I made a valiant effort to keep working but Ralph was winning the battle. I sent an email to my boss and the office time keeper and left for home. The time keeper offered to drive me home but I declined. The last thing I needed was to ride shotgun in a car.  I could have called Mrs. Rootchopper who works a short distance away but she was going to have the first radiology appointment for cancer treatment later that day. My family knows how to party.

After changing into my biking clothes and stopping at the bathroom to check in with Ralph one more time, I took the elevator to the garage. I got off the elevator and bump into the number two person in our agency. Lovely, she probably thinks I am cutting out early to enjoy a ride in the beautiful weather. She got it half right.

I left the garage on Little Nellie only to hit a big traffic jam in front of my office. The electric company was doing some work underground and had closed off the bike lane.  I sat in traffic waiting for the upstream traffic light to turn green. When it did, I wobbled and took out one of the utility’s orange traffic cones with my pannier.  There was no where to stop to raise the cone and, if I did, who’s telling what Ralph would have said, so I pedalled on. I made the next three traffic lights and was soon coasting down the hill to the Mount Vernon Trail.

As I plodded along into a moderate headwind, the warmth of the sun felt like a full body hug. The rhythm of my pedaling kept Ralph at bay.  Every so often I’d feel a wave a nausea but it would quickly fade. As long as I kept my effort moderate I was doing okay, except for the fact that my head was hanging like a lead weight. I made it to Old Town Alexandria where two wide bodied women walking side by side took up 2/3rds of the path. I waited for an approaching cyclist to pass and started to pass the walkers myself. I looked up and saw another cyclist approaching. I figured I had loads of time to finish my pass but I was moving unusually slowly and he was moving much faster than I thought. I had to veer to get out of his way. “Sorry!” I said. I would have told him I was riding with a passenger named Ralph but he was long gone.

I made it through Old Town and passed the Wilson Bridge. I caught the green light at the two street crossings and was back on the MVT proper with little problem.  About  3 1/2 miles from home the MVT starts a slow climb for about a mile to the Stone Bridge. Ralph was not much help here. My head hung low. I plodded along and made it all the way to the traffic light one mile from my house. It was red. Hang down your head and cry. Ralph didn’t like the wait, but he kept quiet. A car approaching from the other side of the intersection tripped the sensor and the light turn green.

Sorry, Ralph. No time to dawdle.  Soon we were home. Ralph had kept quiet for the entire 15 mile trip. It took about an hour and a half but we made it. 

After putting Little Nellie away, I took a long hot shower, put on some shorts and a hoodie and went to sleep in a chair on my deck.

After several hours of misery I conceded defeat and took a benedryl-like antihistamine. It knocked me out. I woke up late feeling lousy but I could at least hold down some food.  I slept for 4 more hours.  I woke up with a craving for chicken soup. I took a 24-hour antihistamine and inhaled some Campbells Jewish Penicillin.

Sometime in the night, Ralph had departed.

I am still a little groggy but feeling much better.

Tomorrow, pills in hand, I should be good to go for 2012 bike commuter number 104, and a visit to the Friday Coffee Club. I hope Ralph doesn’t come.

No, this posting is not about a city in France.  It’s nice outside. Super nice.  We had a cold front move through last night.  Since it was hot and muggy all day, the front touched off some nasty thunderstorms.  Once the storms moved away, the temperature dropped and the air was clear. 

During the muggy part of the day, I installed a new computer mount on my handlebars. It went on pretty quickly and the computer is now working properly again.  I did a helmetless test ride to a bank on US 1.  About a half mile from the bank, I made eye contact with the driver of a new Corolla that was on the access road to the immediate right of the highway. The driver looked right at me then pulled out directly into my path. I came to a stop about a foot from her door and asked the rhetorical question, “What the f%% are you doooooo-inngggg?  Her window was down so she got the message.  I am guessing that she was preoccupied with learning the nuances of her new car and I didn’t register in her mind. Well, now I knew that both the computer and the brakes on The Mule work.
 
I woke up before dawn and made my way to Indian Head Maryland.  The drive took only 30 minutes or so.  I did walk up registration for the Southern Maryland Century. Actually, I did the metric century which was a little shy of 100 kilometers.  I am forever grateful to the science wonks who came up with the metric system.  I can say I did a century and not have to have endured the last 20 miles of a 100 mile ride.

Except today, I half wished I had done the full 100-mile ride. As I started riding I wished I had brought arm warmers. The route took us directly into the rising sun.  With the clear air, it made it hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.

It took me about a half hour to get the lead out of my legs.  Then I locked in to a 15 mile per hour pace, giver or take a mile per hour.  I’ve done this ride twice before but both times it rained so it was nice to not have to deal with wet roads.

The route took us through Charles County Maryland. Charles County was known for having legalized gambling many years ago.  Today it’s an exurb of Washington with miles and miles of tobacco fields that no longer grow the leaf. It’s also where John Wilkes Booth tried to escape from the law after shooting Lincoln. Booth was headed for Virginia via a crossing to the south.  He was cornered in a barn and turned into barbecue. 

For some reason, I think of this area as flat, but there are plenty of pretty challenging hills in the ride.  I rode The Mule, which has very forgiving gearing.  I suck at climbing so I was chuffed when I rode past two roadies walking on their clipless shoes up the biggest hill on the course, 48 miles in to the ride.  It’s bad enough to have succumbed to a hill but to have to walk like a duck all the way up is pretty sad.

The weather was so nice that I didn’t let the things that bother me get under my skin. At one point I was clipping along at 20 miles per hour when I heard a voice say, “Passing left.”  He blew by me in an aero tuck in the silliest helmet (it looked like a sperm – I kid you not). I could have stiff armed him; he was pretty close. Of course, the next 6 or 7 riders who were drafting him didn’t say a word. A couple of them came within inches of my left arm.  At over 20 miles per hour. With a car approaching from the front.  Maybe they were confident in what they were doing, but I thought they were being reckless and putting other riders (i.e. ME) at risk. Dudes, as a famous doctor once said, “It’s fun to have fun, but you have to know how.”

End of speech.

For the remaining 59.9 miles, the riding was glorious. Puffy white clouds floating in a perfectly blue sky. Like summertime in upstate New York or Vermont. Along the way I did a half dozen descents at over 30 miles per hour. I couldn’t hear anything but the wind in my ears. 

After about 4 1/2 hours my ride was over and I headed home.  I stopped twice. Once to get a drink at a gas station. As I waited in line a total stranger starts telling me about his dental problems. He didn’t have $250 to pay a dentist to pull his aching tooth. He was going to have his buddy yank it for him. Good luck with that.  The second stop was at my local bike shop. It is next to a fast food place. I’m waiting in line and a guy who is not quite all there starts telling me how he got kicked out of the fast food place. I started to wonder if I had worn my “Tell me your problems, odd people” shirt on.

I had planned on putting new brake pads on The Mule as a reward for a job well done, but it was so nice out I put my feet up and chilled on the deck instead.