Most people around here have probably already forgotten that this summer was peppered with heat waves that made going outside an exercise in stupidity. (Didn’t stop me though.)
Ah, the joys of summer
Lately, we’ve been dealing with what you might call the polar opposite, frigid air with no end in sight. Temperatures have been running 10 to 15 degrees F – and I mean F – for the last couple of weeks. I should be basking in 50 degree weather, borderline riding-in-shorts weather. Instead, I spend a good ten extra minutes finding layers to layer and sticking toe warmers in my shoes. I have not yet broken out my balaclava and my winter overboots, which I usually use only in January and February, but I can hear them calling from the dresser filled with winter gear in my basement.
So, on average, it’s been a run-of-the-mill year weatherwise. Now if we could just work on the variance we’d have a meteorological hoedown, statistically speaking.
Thinking ahead to decent riding weather in December I took Big Nellie and The Mule in for service. They are ready to rumble. Then snow came. Just an inch but enough to make me wary of a crash, a circumstance that my beat up right shoulder wants nothing to do with. I brought my CrossCheck inside and mounted it on a resistance trainer. I managed one hour before the boredom and intensity of my workout damned near did me in.
The snow, all one inch of it, melted in a day so I’ve been riding outside. I have about 20 miles in me before I start raging at the weather gods and dreaming of spring. (Just four months to go!)
Then it occurred to me that our newly renovated rec center has stationary bikes. I tried the recumbent model our and really liked it. You can mount reading material or plug in your phone for entertainment. It even has a fan to keep me from overheating. I did an intense workout, expecting to ride for an hour before the digital fitness overlords terminated my session with an automatic “cool down” feature after 30 minutes.
Why not?
Today I mixed and matched. I rode The Mule 7 miles from home to the rec center then rode a half-hour session on the rec bent. Next I lifted weights for a half hour before a second session on the rec bent. Then I went back outside to discover that the temperature had dropped during my time inside. Windy 34 degrees is not my cup of tea but The Mule and I managed to do another 10 miles before headed inside for hot soup.
All of this is aimed at my inane goal of riding 10,000 miles this year. Entering December I had 520 miles left to go. Given the weather, holiday festivities, and shopping, I felt the goal was going to be a serious challenge. So far so good. I have 319 miles to go with 23 days to go. In 2017 I finished the year less than 100 miles short of 10,000 because my cardiovascular system gifted me blood clots for Christmas.
The frigid temperatures have brought out the weirdness in our local critters. I have seen more vultures this week than I have all year. This may be because I’ve been riding Big Nellie with it’s panoramic view combined with the lack of leaves on the trees. I saw four vultures along the Mount Vernon Trail at Dyke Marsh the other day. The other day there was the big snake in my backyard. It turned out to be a harmless garter snake but it was very feisty, trying to bite whenever it was approached.
Say hello to my not so little friend
Today, I spotted this sign in New Alexandria about a mile from the rec center.
Stick season has arrived in the DC area. I’m adjusting to riding in 40-degree weather rather well but the winds are a bit of a challenge as always.
Watching
The World Series – On a par with the very best baseball games I’ve ever seen including the fabled 6th game of the 1975 Series that resurrected baseball’s popularity. The 2025 Series was so good that my wife (not a big baseball fan) watched most of it with me.
A House of Dynamite – Kathryn Bigelow’s latest masterpiece about the 19 minutes after a nuclear warhead is launched toward the US. It is told from three perspectives: the military, the White House, and the President. Whoa.
The Fantastic Four: First Steps – The latest Marvel movie. Orders of magnitude better that A House ofDynamite. Not! When the best thing about the movie is the set decoration (early 60s NYC meets The Jetsons), you know you’re in for a long two hours.
Say Nothing – A nine-part miniseries based on the book of the same name (see below). Excellent but disturbing and depressing. I had nightmares after watching this.
The American Revolution – A six-part, twelve-hour miniseries on how the US came to be. Another gem from Ken Burns with collaborators Sarah Botstein, and David Schmidt. Your school history lessons will seem utterly incomplete after watching this.
Ryan van Duzer’s Natchez Trace Tour – Ryan rode the Trace in October. It was fun to re-visit the ride I did this spring.
Riding
I rode the Cider Ride with Chris, Michael, and Kevin. The No-estrogen Ride. First time I’ve ridden one of these with just the boys in forever. I knew I was in trouble when they dropped me on the first hill at the half mile mark. Still I slogged my way through 60 miles. This was the longest ride of the month.
I rode 787 miles in 24 days during November. I took the CrossCheck out for a 20-mile ride but otherwise the whole month was on The Mule. Big Nellie spent the month in the shop for much needed maintenance. I dropped The Mule off for work yesterday. This will give me a jump on bike maintenance for next year. Also, my local bike shop’s service area is dead so I get The Mule back by mid-week.
For the year, I’ve clocked 9,479 miles. Just 521, or 16.3 miles per day to get to 10,000. Fingers crossed.
Reading
Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe. An account of the dystopia that was Belfast during the Troubles in the 1970s and later. Absolutely riveting. To quote dialog from A House of Dynamite: This is insanity. This is reality.
Mediocre Follow-Up (The No-Name Tour) – My journal (created from posts on this blog) of my 2019 tour from Northern Indiana to San Francisco. I was surprised over and over again at how my memories seemed to get all jumbled with time. And how much I walked to get over mountain after mountain after mountain.
Connecticut Road Trip – We took a four-day mini-vacation to Connecticut where we witnessed our daughter get sworn in to the Connecticut Bar, saw some awesome trolls in Rhode Island, and had dinner with friends we hadn’t seen in over a decade.
Last Thursday my wife and I drove to Norwalk, Connecticut to visit our daughter Lily. With me behind the wheel, the drive, especially the 30 miles on either side of the George Washington Bridge was quite a shock to my two-wheeled brain. It boggles my mind that people do this crossing on a regular basis.
Some Good Eats
Once we recovered we drove to nearby Wilton for dinner at Orem’s Diner. This place has been in business for over 100 years and is always packed. For good reason.
On Friday morning we drove to West Hartford for a late breakfast at another diner, Sally and Bob’s. We ate here whenever we visited Lily when she was in the University of Connecticut’s law school in Hartford. The diner is an institution and well worth its reputation for good eats.
Lily’s an Attorney!
Our next stop was the Connecticut Supreme Court building where Lily and a hundred or so other folks who passed the Connecticut Bar exam this summer were sworn in, officially becoming attorneys. Woot! Suffice it to say, we were wicked proud of our baby girl. After the ceremony we attended a reception across the street in the Capitol building.
Attorney Lily at the Connecticut State House
More Good Eats
We drove back to Norwalk and had dinner at a local Italian place. Both the pizza and the rigatoni ala vodka hit the spot. Oink.
Saturday began with an obligatory trip to Dunkin Donuts. I honestly think there are more Dunks than cows in New England. They are everywhere. You could entertain kids with a Dunks version of Eye Spy. For some reason Dunks in New England is much better than Dunks in Northern Virginia. Sadly the Dunks in Norwalk did not have honey dipped sticks which were my go to when I lived in Providence. Nevertheless my tummy was happy for the ensuing two-hour drive to Rhode Island.
Trolls!
Primed with caffeine and sugar, we drove to Rhode Island to check out some of Thomas Dambo’s trolls. Dambo is a Danish artist who uses recycled materials to create these incredible works of public art. Rhode Island has five (with a sixth in the making). We checked out four of them.
The first two were in Ninigret State Park near Charlestown. This is located near some beaches on Rhode Island Sound so it’s a good idea to go when the beach season is over. The first troll was Greta Granit. It’s off the road about a hundred yards down a well maintained windy path through some bushes. The second troll was located a half mile away just off the road near a small observatory. Erik Rock sits comfortably next to Little Ninigret Pond.
Greta Granit
Erik Rock
Our next troll was next to Browning Mill Pond near Arcadia, Rhode Island, about ten miles to the north. We had to walk about ten minutes on a path along the water to find Young Boulder, sitting in the woods looking out over the water.
Young Boulder
Our fourth troll was Iver Mudslider near Belleville Pond in North Kingstown another 10 or so miles to the east. Getting to Iver involved a half mile trek down an unpaved road. It was well worth the effort. During the walk we passed the site of another troll in the making.
Iver Mudslider
Dambo’s trolls are all over the world. This map will help you find them. We met people who go all over checking them out. Now that I think about it, a troll bike tour would be an excellent excursion. Hmmm.
Old Friends
We ran out of time so we skipped the troll in East Providence and headed back to Norwalk. After cleaning up we headed out to dinner at Barb and Andy’s, friends who live in nearby Westport. We hadn’t seen them in over 10 years so we had a splendid evening of fine food, wine, and conversation.
More Orem’s, a Beach, and the Drive Home
On Sunday morning we headed back to Orem’s for breakfast. The place was packed but apparently Connecticutters eat fast and we only waited ten minutes for our pancakes and eggs. Fortified, we headed back south to Calf Pasture Beach in Norwalk. We only stayed a few minutes as the cold wind off Long Island Sound convinced us we were underdressed
At the Beach. Not Too Crowded..
We said goodbye to our new attorney and headed back. We made it across the bridge smoothly, mostly because my wife was driving. Near the southern end of the New Jersey Turnpike, the road lined up with the setting sun. The road turned away and the sun set just before we were incinerated. The remaining 120 miles involved super strong cross winds. I believe the weather gods want me back on two wheels. And so I am.
Posted an album of troll pictures on my Flickr page.
Yesterday I took part in the Washington Area Bicyclists Assocation’s Cider Ride. This annual event is about 13 years old. There are three routes; I rode the longest, 60 miles. This is a relatively flat ride, involving only 2,000 feet of climbing. After riding through residential neighborhoods in Northeast DC, participants hook up with the Anacostia River Trail system. The route has used these trails for 11 years after a couple of unpleasant forays in early December on suburban streets.
This year’s version was held in cool and windy conditions. There was no rain but temperatures didn’t seem to crest 60 degrees until the last third of the ride.
I rode with Chris, Michael, and Kevin. Despite the fact that Michael was riding on a bum knee, he kept pace with Chris and Kevin who seemed comfortable rolling along at 15 miles per hour. I decidedly was not. I woefully lagged behind, bothered by a mystery noise coming from my front wheel when I applied my brakes. The first pit stop came at 13 miles at Proteus Bikes in College Park, Maryland. There, a mechanic found the cause of my aggro, a small burr on the right side of my rim. He filed it down with a sanding stone and all was copacetic thereafter.
With my companions itching to ride on, I snarfed a half a donut and a small metal cup (provided to all participants) of warm cider. The next pit stop was 23 miles away. As someone who gets about 15 miles to the donut, I regarded this as a challenge.
After the first pit stop we headed north into the Beltsville Agricultural Preserve where federal farm scientists work on such farm things. (I am a city boy so you’ll get no insights from me.) On the north-ish edge of the Preserve we turned east onto Powder Mill Road, a two-lane highway with smooth pavement and wide, paved shoulders. A couple of miles later we turned into the grounds of the Patuxent Wildlife Research Refuge where the access road wound through pretty darned amazing foliage.
We turned around and headed back the way we came taking a meander through suburban Edmonston, Maryland. At this point we began to whine about the winds which seemed to be headwinds no matter which way we turned.
Pedaling right back into the Agriculture Research Preserve, we headed straight across the mostly barren landscape on the cleverly named Research Road. Because of the shut down, a gate blocked our way but we gingerly rode in the grass around it. Take that, Congress!
Alas, the rest of Research Road climbs up the biggest hill of the ride. Just before the top we came to a gate that is always closed (to prevent commuters from cutting through the Preserve, I guess). Kevin and I walked through the narrow gap around the gate.
We rejoined the speed twins, Chris and Michael, who were waiting patiently at the top of the hill and rolled down to Pit Stop #2 at Buddy Attick Lake Park in Greenbelt. This pit stop is known for serving apple pie but there was no pie this year. (No loss. I’m not a fan.) There were donuts and cider, and plenty of bees competing for the refreshments. I had an entire donut and a cup of cider, thankfully without getting stung or swallowing any of my flying friends.
After the pit stop we returned toward the Anacostia River trail system, Along the way we passed a MAMIL (middle-aged man in lycra) who had crashed in the bike lane. He was being tended to by tow other riders so we soldiered on. Back on the trail system my youthful riding companions dropped me like a marketing call. Thankfully, they waited and led me into Hyattsville where there was some low speed congestion getting onto the Trolley Trail.
The Trolley Trail took us back to the Anacostia River trail system, around Lake Artemesia (which we rode around on the way north), and south to the final pit stop at Bladensburg Waterfront Park. Michael’s knee was starting to hurt so we made short work of the refreshments and headed south on the east side of the Anacostia.
Now Michael’s knee might have been hurting, but Kevin and I still couldn’t keep up with him and Chris. Our travels took us south on the east side of the Anacostia then back north on the west side. Here we rode around the skeleton of RFK Stadium which is being razed for a new football palace. We took the C Street protected cycletrack (which looks like it was transported from a European city. So nice!) on the gradual climb up the east side of Capitol Hill. After playing with cars for a half mile or so we picked up the 1st Street Northeast Cycletrack and connected with the Metropolitan Branch Trail which led us mercifully to the finish.
We convened for post-ride pizza (thanks Chris and Michael) and liquid refreshment at Metrobar, a repurposed Metro subway car.
I drove home with the expectation that I would fall sound asleep during the deciding game of the World Series. I glad I didn’t.
Thanks to the volunteers and WABA staff who woke up early to check us in and endured bees galore at the rest stops. Thanks to Chris, Michael, and Kevin.
And so ends my event riding season. I am pooped.
Getting ready to head back south at the Patuxent Research Refuge
The view at Buddy Attick Lake Park
Amazingly bee-free shot from Buddy Attick bee farm. Photo by Michael.
Michael’s snack at Bladensburg Waterfront Park. Photo by Michael.
We ate all the pizza! (L to R: Michael, Kevin, me, Chris). Photo by Michael.
I struggle with October. The weather is nearly perfect for laying in a hammock. Alas, I don’t have one and wouldn’t want to have to deal with one (storing, cleaning, hanging, etc.). So I mostly just ride. My legs are starting to feel the effects of over 8,300 miles of riding in 2025. My body seems to be hanging on by a thread of a tendon, I suppose. My right arm is still barking at me despite my attempts to strengthen it. My back is a disaster area. What I wouldn’t give for the recuperative powers of my youth.
Riding
This month’s event ride was The Great Pumpkin Ride. I’ve done this about a dozen times. It’s hard to beat Virginia countryside in the fall. I did this year’s ride on Big Nellie. All went well except for the fact that my rear wheel started falling off, proving there really is a first time for everything.
I followed that 63-mile day with a 51-mile ride to see the foliage in Rock Creek Park. Otherwise it was a run of the mill month of riding reaching 901 miles. I’m at 8,692 miles so far this year. Will I make it to 10,000 miles again? Stay tuned.
I also started doing 2- to 3-mile walks with my trekking poles. My back holds up and the poling action seems to be helping my shoulder.
Reading
The Impossible Fortune by Richard Osman. Yet another Thursday Murder Club mystery. Osman writes them; I read them. No complaints. Breezy, clever, and funny. A good way to pass the time between baseball playoff games and bike rides.
Watching
Baseball. I’ve seen most of the playoff games including Shohei Ohtani’s game for the ages against the Brewers. I’ve seen a couple of 10-RBI games, one by Fred Lynn and the other by Anthony Rendon. And I’ve seen plenty of 10-strikeout games. Seeing someone do both was a bit mind boggling. The 2025 World Series is one for the ages.
The Comeback: Red Sox 2004 – A three-hour documentary about the 2004 Red Sox post season with commentary from (among others) Ben Affleck and Matt Damon. Affleck’s memories matched mine to a T. After the Sox won the 2004 World Series, I stopped watching baseball for a couple of years. Nothing could match the Comeback. (Until the 2019 Nats pulled some magic of their own.)
From Rails to Trails – An in interesting historical account of how rail trails became a thing. There are a few good ones within 200 miles of home but my local area has three non-rail trails – Mount Vernon, the C&O Canal Towpath, and the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail (and it’s northern extensions along the Anacostia tributaries). The documentary didn’t mention my favorite: the Great Allegheny. If you haven’t ridden it, you really should.
For a variety of reasons, I found Saturday’s 62-mile bike ride to be frustrating and exhausting. To make matters worse, I didn’t even bother to take pictures of the beautiful scenery I was riding through.
Today’s ride was better. I left home in shorts into a 43-degree headwind, headed for Rock Creek Park in DC for some good old fashioned leaf peeping. The first ten miles were a chilly slog; I was underdressed and the headwind felt like a relentless uphill grind.
After 10 miles, roughly at National Airport, I found a rhythm. Five more miles cruising along the river brought me to the mouth of the wooded urban canyon known as Rock Creek Park.
I was happy to find that the walls of the canyon blocked the headwind making for much easier pedaling. For a few miles I rode the paved trail without a care until I arrived at the National Zoo. The trail continues along the edge of the Zoo compound, but the Smithsonian which owns the Zoo had closed off the trail because of the government shutdown. The trail which doesn’t actually go into the Zoo itself could just as easily been left open but whadareyagonnado?
Riding north in the southern part of Rock Creek Park
No trail for you!
Rock Creek and all those leaves
I duck-walked my bike on the narrow side path through the adjacent tunnel along Beach Drive, the road along the Creek. Once back in the open air, the rest of the ride was mighty sweet. The grade of the road probably averages about one percent as it winds its way along the creek. With very little traffic of any sort, the riding was peaceful and mediative. I stopped to have a snack and take pictures.
Beach Drive going over Rock Creek
The grade is not nearly as steep as the picture shows. Easy riding.
At about 25 miles, I began the climb out of the Park and rode west a couple of miles to Bethesda where I picked up the Capital Crescent Trail for the return trip. As I started out I passed two dog walkers who had between them about a dozen dogs on leashes. The dogs seemed perfectly calm as they ambled en masse down the trail.
On the Capital Crescent Trail
The riding was easy and breezy thanks to the tailwind and the gentle down grade all the way to the Potomac at the Georgetown waterfront. As the day wore on, the cloud cover was building. I wasn’t dressed for rain so I got down to business and rode without delay.
In Old Town Alexandria I encountered some mist. Is that rain? Nope, just river water churned up by my friendly tailwind.
The tailwind made the last few miles a piece of cake. I arrived home feeling much better than at any time during Saturday’s ride. Riding when your 70 is something of a crap shoot, I suppose, but just think how the Mule feels having broken the 81,000-mile mark somewhere in Alexandria today. The Mule didn’t complain once. The Mule abides.
Yesterday I rode the Great Pumpkin Ride in Fauquier County, Virginia. I have a closet full of the shirts they give out to attendees so I am pretty sure I’ve ridden this event more than a dozen times. The long-sleeved, lightweight shirts are made of technical fabric; they are excellent base layers for cold winter rides.
On Friday night, I stayed up to watch Game 2 of the World Series. I woke up before my alarm at about 4:45. Nothing like riding a 62-mile event when sleep deprived, I always say. After persuading Big Nellie onto my bike rack in the dark, I drove an hour to Warrenton and checked in a little after 7:30. The temperature was a toasty 33 degrees. Ugh.
While waiting around I found myself in conversation with another rider with an interesting English accent. He told me when he came to this country many years ago he worked as a jockey. He raced at east coast venues like Saratoga. After his riding days were over he became a horse dentist. Open wide! He goes from place to place filing down the irregularities on horses’ teeth which allows them to chew their hay better. Who knew? He loves his work. To each his own I suppose.
At 9 we set off, a mass start on a narrow rail trail. I waited a bit to avoid the insanity so I waited for most of the field to get underway. Being a slowpoke and the only recumbent in the field I took care to avoid the impatient lycra-clad roadies who were desperate to set a record on the ride. (I am pretty sure these are the same people who stand as soon as the plane reaches the gate.) Ugh again. In prior years I’ve seen these same folks crash along the course. No two-wheeled karma this year though. I suppose there is hope for the future.
In the past the course took a counter-clockwise route but this year it was reversed. The familiar seems novel when seen from a different perspective. Mostly we rode through farmland, post-harvest and pre-peak foliage. The pallet was dominated by brown leaves and fields of dirt offset by sunny blue skies. (Sorry no pictures. I was busy suffering.)
The first eight miles headed more or less downhill and east into the rising sun. Visibility was difficult. I was cruising down one hill at about 25 miles per hour when out of the sunlight I saw a road rider coming my way. WTF! He must have dropped something but he was unaware that he was backlit and nearly invisible.
The next eight miles were rolling hills through farmland. I noticed that my pedals felt funny on the uphills. Onward. I came to the first rest stop (normally one of the last) at 16.5 miles. I was expecting in a few miles later but grateful as I had a need for a blue room visit. With temperatures soaring into the mid 40s (thankfully it wasn’t windy) I changed into shorts and a vest then joined the long line for relief. The wait was about 15 minutes. Not wanting another 15 minute wait for food, I grabbed a quarter bagel from the crowded food table and set out into a more wooded section of the course.
As I negotiated each hill, that funny feeling in my pedals returned. On hills I use my granny gear, with the chain on the smallest chainring in front. The low gear creates some slack in the chain. The slack is taken up by an idler roughly under my seat.
The ride progressed uneventfully. I managed to avoid two wrong turns along the way. The terrain was rolling. With each climb that funny feeling while pedaling returned. Is my pedal or crank arm coming loose? The more I rode, the worse the feeling became. It became clear that the problem was emanating from the rear of the bike. Was my cassette (the cluster of gears in the back) coming apart? Oddly, the chain wasn’t skipping across the cogs; it was completely disengaging.
The problem worsened. I stopped using my granny gear, opting for my middle chain ring for climbing. After a few miles, the chain problem began to happen in that chainring as well. I’d been riding bikes with gears for over 50 years but nothing like this had ever happened before.
After the rolling wooded area, the course flattened out a bit. An small oncoming SAG (Support and Gear) car came by. The driver could see that I was distressed and asked if I needed help. I waved him off but he did a u-turn and pulled over to make sure I was okay. We agreed that I would continue on to a rest stop in the town of Remington where a bigger SAG vehicle could give me a ride to the finish.
As I continued to ride, I though that maybe the problem was with the rear wheel itself. I made it to a half mile before the rest stop when the back of my bike went totally wonky on the short rise to a railroad crossing. I pulled over and inspected the rear end of the bike. I picked up the back of the bike and the rear wheel dropped off! Somehow the quick release on the wheel had become disengaged. The chain had been keeping the wheel from falling off while I was riding. Dang.
Doing roadside repairs on a long wheel base recumbent is difficult. I managed to get the chain entangled with the right brake pad and to knock the left brake pad cassette out of its holder. I wrestled with the chain, then after a couple of attempts, during which I wrenched my lower back, I seated the rear axle into the frame. Finally, I coaxed the left brake pad back into its proper orientation. I lifted the wheel and gave it a spin. Bob’s your uncle.
Crossing the tracks, I immediately took a wrong turn, adding a half mile to my ride. Eventually, I found the pit stop where the SAG drivers were breaking down the food tables. (No soup for you!) They had heard about the recumbent rider in distress and were ready to help me out. No need, gentlemen. I thanked them and headed out for the next six or seven miles along the rail line, blissfully devoid of hills.
Since we rode downhill out of Warrenton at the start, it was only fair that we’d ride uphill to the finish. I felt very sluggish as I rode. At one point I stopped to see if my rear wheel was properly aligned. No problem. Right as rain. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ride 62 miles on a quarter bagel and a Clif bar. Ya think?
On the way home I dropped off Big Nellie for some TLC at Bikes at Vienna. Take care of my baby, Tim.
As for riding, I’ll do better next Saturday when The Mule and I take on the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s 60-mile Cider Ride. Stay tuned and check those quick release levers, y’all.
Big Nellie near the starting line (at the caboose in the background).
My wife came home with apple cider donuts. They came in a pack of 8. These are not good for you. I ate 3. I am weak.
I have had a recurring credit card mystery this year. In July I was charged $51 by a company called Spiz. They sell a “meal replacement” powder. They do not sell an apple cider donut replacement powder. Lame! I have never heard of Spiz so I contacted my credit card provider and filed a fraud claim. I received a new card and thought all was copacetic until I received another $51 charge for Spiz meal replacement powder in September. I contacted my credit card provider and filed another fraud claim.
I got to thinking: have I twice ordered anything online that costs $51? The only thing I could think of was my Knee Saver pedal extenders. They cost $45. It turns out they charge $6 for shipping. Bingo. I searched the Kneesaver.net website and clicked on “About” in the menu. Near the bottom of a long page of company history I found that the Knee Saver is a side gig of the Spiz meal replacement powder company. Mystery solved. I called the credit card company and canceled my fraud claims.
I can’t speak for the quality of the powder but I think the pedal extenders are great. Just add water. (I’m kidding.)
The riding weather has been splendid for a few weeks but I haven’t gone for a long ride. Sad face. This year I gave up mowing my own lawn. Last week the lawn service aerated my lawn then spread an astonishing amount of grass seed over the whole thing. I have to water it twice a day. Once at breakfast time and once in the early afternoon. This cramps my riding style to say the least.
The bike computer on Big Nellie quit working last week. I replaced the battery and all is well. It turns out that the tire manufacturer says the wheel size in millimeters is 1540 (the call numbers for a rock and roll radio station of my youth. I inputted this number and, using 10 miles worth of mileage markers on the Mount Vernon Trail, I determined that it was 4 percent too big. Annoying. My tires are made in Germany. No fahrvergnugen for me.
A few days later the same model bike computer on The Mule went dark. I replaced the battery and it woke up. I rode 30 miles, and all was well. The next day I rode to DC. The computer stopped receiving a signal from the magnet on the front wheel. Riding for an hour with a big 0 miles per hour on your bike computer is depressing. I may have to replace the computer.
A few days ago I rode past an man walking his German shepherd. Both of them were old and flabby. I said “nice dog” as I rode by. The man didn’t hear me. Neither did his dog. When the dog saw me he lunged at me and growled. The man said “You should give a warning.” I told him controlling the dog was his job not mine. He told me to “Eff off”. Except he didn’t say “eff”.
Today, I came to a T intersection an half mile from home. It’s a three-way stop. I looked left and right then proceeded to make a left turn. Just as I did I heard an engine roar and a tire squeal. A pickup truck screeched to a halt to my right. He didn’t see or car about his stop sign. I stopped before crossing in front of him. I gave him a WTF look. I started up again and he passed me on the left. He said something that sounded aggressive to me. I yelled “Slow the eff down!” Except I didn’t say “eff”. Effs are contagious.
My early morning rides to Friday Coffee Club now begin in the dark. Last week I even had to wear long pants. Dang. The best thing about these rides is the sunrise over the Potomac.
It seems a shame that we sleep through this most days
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.
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.
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 