Category: #bikedc

Turkey Hike

My daughter had an early morning flight out of National Airport. If I had my act together I would have dropped her off and driven to the mountains for a proper hike. But I am me and my act is no Oscar.

I went home to bed. At noon I was ready to rumble. Time for a hike. I drove up the GW Parkway past DC and headed for Great Falls Park in Maryland. Then I saw an exit for Turkey Run and decided to change the plan.

I have driven past Turkey Run Park hundreds of times and never checked it out. Today I took a trail from a parking lot down to the Potomac Heritage Trail. The PHT runs 10 miles from Key Bridge to the beltway. I’d already done the first five miles. They were not so hot. Kirstin told me that the part from Chain Bridge (where I stopped last time) to the beltway was much nicer. Today I hiked from Turkey Run Park to the beltway, a 4-mile round trip.

I love hiking in autumn after the leaves have fallen. The sound of the leaves swooshing under my feet is very calming. I also hate hiking in the autumn because the fallen leaves cover all the rocks and tree roots and other irregularities in trail leading to slipping and ankle twisting. So it goes.

The first tenth of a mile was switch backs down to the river. The river’s edge was cast in shadow from the low angle of the sun. It was about five degrees cooler in the shade but my walking soon took care of my minor discomfort.

The lack of leaves gave me views of the river that I might have missed a month or two ago. There was a low hum of car traffic off in the distance that my brain soon tuned out. An occasional plane flew overhead. Other than these modern intrusions I could have been miles from the DC metropolis.

I forded a few streams, called runs here in Virginia. I’m used to this strange language having grown up in upstate New York where the streams are kills. I suck at fording streams but I managed not to get my feet wet.

I did however turn my ankles a dozen times as my feet landed on leaves that obscured the rocks and roots beneath. After about 45 minutes I found myself at Dead Run with nowhere to go. I had strayed off the trail and found double blazes on both sides of the stream. I decided to turn around and just before I headed back down river I spotted the trial on the opposite side of the stream. It was only a quarter mile to the beltway. I continued past and climbed a hill. The path deposited me on a cul de sac just outside the beltway.Here I turned around and headed back to the trail and the river and the trees and the leaves.

My return hike went considerably faster. I knew where all the bad footing was so I didn’t need to stop and probe for rocks and roots. My hat hung over my forehead and I smacked my head on an overhanging fallen tree. What would I do if I gave myself an concussion down here? No worries. @^(()#TY!!$%_

I said good bye to the river and climbed back up to the Turkey Run parking lot.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

I posted a few more pictures on my Flickr page.

A Banquet in a Lumberjack Shirt

She sits with her forehead on her fists
And tries to think what went bung
Dial the weather to do the deed
Her smile curses him once again

He’s twice her age and slow and frail
He should be easy to slay
Her smile betrays an internal rage
She’ll shuffle him off his coil one day

With pen and ink and mindfulness
She’s a banquet in her lumberjack shirt
When she thinks she can’t find happiness
He gives her flowers in the dirt.

Atypical Saturday

I went to Friday Coffee Club for the first time since March yesterday. Friday Coffee Club is a gathering a bike commuters in DC. Friday Coffee Club embodies why I love living in DC. It has so many interesting people from so many different walks of life. In it’s early days, a number of attendees were 20-s0mething women, some in grad school, some just getting started in the workaday world. Laura was one of them.

When I first met her, Laura was a working graphic artist. This led somehow to a job as a vice president at an Internet-based marketing firm. The grind ultimately left her ground down. Six months ago she threw in the towel on office life and made the rather brave jump to becoming a full-time artist.

Today she had some of her works on exhibit at Latela gallery in the Brookland Art Walk. Mrs. Rootchopper, our daughter, and I drove up to DC to check it out.

Laura – Infinitely more talented than your average Rootchopper

I haven’t seen Laura in many months but she, with her green highlighted hair, welcomed me with open arms. (Why didn’t I take a picture? I am a moron. The picture on the right is from her website.)

We talked about her work, how she has to balance her artistic muse with commercial concerns. Marketing. Websites. Balancing what formats sell with the cost of investing in materials and equipment. Being an artist is a lot more complicated than I realized.

Laura is obviously so talented. I don’t have the artist’s gene so I am in awe of anybody who can create like she can. More importantly, she seems pretty happy.

In addition to artworks she makes of her own choosing, Laura creates works on commission. Do you have a mute wall that needs to speak? Is a friend or family member getting married or moving into a new place? Check out Laura’s website for details.

 

Return to Friday Coffee Club

I haven’t been to Friday Coffee Club since it moved from Swings House of Caffeine near the White House to A Baked Joint on the eastern side of downtown last March. Depsite the fact that most #bikedc folks are out of town, Ted announced that he was going to Friday Coffee Club when ABJ opened at 9 am. Ricky soon through his helmet into the ring. I decided that if I woke up early enough, I’d enter the fray.

I woke up at 5:45.

Jeez.

I hopped on Big Nellie and headed to DC riding most of my commute route on my day off. It took me about 1:15 to get there. I was thankful that traffic was very light. This may have been because nearly every one in town appeared to be line up outside the new Museum of African American History on the mall.

I swooped and wiggled my way through downtown.

Ricky was already inside. Soon Ted and Jean (knitting a wool sock) showed up. Then Ed and Mary, Reba and Robert, Sam and Jeff, and Joe and Kathy. Not a bad crowd considering it was black Friday. It was a good mix of people and the conversation was just as lively as I remembered it. I am glad I went. And, in fact, I stayed for a good 2 hours before leaving and following Reba and Robert on a meander through downtown to get to the 14th Street Bridge. Traffic was Sunday-ish.

We made it to the Mount Vernon Trail and headed south while R&R headed north. The ride home was rote but the trail was empty. The betting was heavy and Stewball was there. No wait….my brain must be having an day off too.

And so I managed to get some exercise, see some old friends, and avoid the velociraptors.

Success.

 

 

If you want a friend in this town, get a velociraptor

She was walking her velociraptor in the park.
She wore happiness on her sleeve
Wrapped up in her woo woo and her thrift store dress
Talking to herself in musical tones.

Arms full of autumn, she walked away
Turned her back on her latest last chance.
Moved on to costumes, waterfalls, and weed
Flew the coop to the warm winter light

Drank a wretched brew that made her head spin
Walked under a ladder to heaven on her way out of town
Perception isn’t reality, whatever that is
Put off to the future while she gets out of town

She put her kayak on a fork
And held a picnic in the park on Audience Day
He held his applause as he drove away
Regarding the perfection in his rear view mirror

Now she walks her velociraptor in the park.
She wears happiness on her sleeve
Wrapped in her woo woo and her thrift store dress
Wondering why she was so alone.

 

 

How Does Bri Do It?

Bri writes a blog about winter bike commuting in rural upstate New York. It’s the snow belt and it gets fiercely cold. She looks forward to winter. Bri is a few spokes shy of a wheel.

Bri makes me feel like a wimp.

On Saturday afternoon a cold front came through. The wind howled and howled on Sunday. I was not looking forward to riding into that gale this morning.

When I fetched the newspaper from the driveway the winds were light-ish and the residual warmth from my PJs kept me comfortable. An hour or so later I stepped outside to ride the Mule to work.

Dang. It was cold. And it was colder still once I got underway and rode with a wind out of ten o’clock for the first 11 miles. I knew it was blowing hard when I took the Park Terrace downhill. I normally reach 32 miles per hour. Today I could only make 27.

There were no photos today. Just put your head down and pedal at a depressingly slow speed.

At Gravelly Point the trail turns to the east for 100 yards. Relief! Then when it takes a 90 degree turn to the north the crosswind nearly blew me off the path.

I managed to make it to work in about 90 minutes. About 15 minutes slower than normal.

The ride home was revenge. I had a strong tailwind the whole way. I saw a friend (I think) who hates cold weather riding toward me on a bikeshare bike near the Humpback Bridge across from the Jefferson Memorial. She had on a black parka with a hood drawn tight around her head.  It framed her face. Her jaw was set and her normally joyful demeanor was locked somewhere between determined and miserable.

The rest of the ride home was not half bad. It made up for the craptastic morning commute.

More of the same tomorrow, minus about 5 or 10 degrees.

 

 

Coffee is Dangerous

I was riding home as usual on the Mount Vernon Trail. In Old Town Alexandria the trail merges with a bike lane on Union Street. At 426 North Union I left the bike lane to avoid the rear of a car parked perpedicular to the curb. Then I came to a full stop at two stop signs. Then I approached the busy interesection with King Street.

I came to a full stop at the stop sign as two pedestrians slowly crossed the street in the crosswalk in front of me. Take. Your. Time. People.

Then I crossed King. Just beyond the next crosswalk a car was parked illegally blocking the right lane. My lane. It had its flashers on (making it clear to anyone who might care that he was parking illegally) and its white back up lights were illuminated. I approached with extreme care not knowing what the driver was going to do. Cars were legally parked at the curb in front of the Starbucks across from the illegal car. Two cars were coming toward me. Their headlights were shining directly in my eyes. Because of the illegally parked car I had only a few feet of roadway to use.

As I passed the illegal car, I turned to look at the driver. The headlight on my helmet lit up his face and hands as he played with the cellphone in his hand. Typical.

I turned my head forward and there was a pedestrian. Mid block. Dressed in dark clothing. About one foot in front of my front tire. She was holding a Starbucks cup. She shrieked and quickstepped. I have no idea how I did not hit her.

 

Starbucks addicts do this sort of thing routinely at King and Union. Mrs. Rootchopper told me last night that about a mile away Starbucks addicts  dash across the street in mid block during rush hour to get their caffeine fix at a Starbucks on North Washington Street, a major commuting route for cars and buses.

 

 

Stressing My Way to Work

  • Yesterday I drove to work for the first time in weeks. I honestly don’t know why anyone would want to use driving a car as a way to get to work. (I understand that many people have no viable option in the short term.) I was STRESSED OUT!!!!
  • On the way in, the waiting and merging and sudden stopping were an assault on my central nervous system. I played relaxing music (Mark Knopfler and Chet Atkins) and this helped some but not nearly enough. They should have meditation rooms in the parking garages around here. Seriously. So you can come down before you go into the office and start throwing coffee cups around.
  • The ride home had its joys too. Driving in the dark is no fun at all. And the 15 minute back up on I-395 felt like it would never ever end. No wonder this country has a depression and anxiety epidemic. I seriously thought about opening a bottle of wine when I got home. Instead I started my evening with 20 minutes of breathing meditation. I followed this up with my daily physical therapy. Instead of rushing through the exercises (most of which are based on yoga asanas) as I too often do, I slowed them way down. I took care paying attention to each stretch, making sure the muscles relaxed. I monitored my breathing. The whole wind down took about 45 minutes.
  • One thing I notice when I do breathing meditation is that I can get my heart and respiratory rates very low. My doctors are constantly freaked when they take my pulse. The last couple of times it was checked it was 44. “Do you exercise?” A couple of years ago my resting pulse was around 60. That’s considered on the low side for most people.  My low pulse is also a little odd when you consider I drink three cups of coffee every day.
  • This morning I jumped on The Mule with fresh legs (and a disturbingly bigger belly from last week’s Mexican food binge). The cold air felt so refreshing. And riding past the stalled traffic back up on the GW Parkway made me feel liberated. I truly felt sorry for all those people grinding their teeth and white knucking their steering wheels.
  • Of course, I also had the opportunity to stop and admire the early morning sun over the Potomac River. Most drivers don’t get to see this. Sucks for them.

  • If you look closely you can see that my pedals don’t match. This is a hold over from my bike tour this summer when my left pedal disintegrated. What you can’t see is that the chain is stretched beyond hope. So I am getting a new chain and cassette this weekend.
  • I mentioned the cold. As you can see from the picture, the bridges on the Mount Vernon Trail are decked with wood. They frost over. Shaded areas are icy. As I was approaching the beaver bridge (between Old Town and National Airport), an approaching jogger yelled a warning to me, “The bridge is really slippery.” It was slippery on the left hand side (where she had run) but not along the right edge. The left side was still in the shade. Just a couple of degrees makes all the difference. There were fresh gashes in the wood from where bicyclists’ pedals had made a mark during falls.
  • In a few days a cold front comes through with honest to god wintery weather. The battle begins. The holey sweater awaits. The mittens are ready. The chemical foot warmers are beside my shoes. My hair (what little there is) will stand on end as the head coverings draw all the oil out of it. My skin will dry up where the base layers and Buff and wool socks contact it.

 

Bike Therapy

 

I went for a ride on my Cross Check today. Yesterday’s ride on Big Nellie, my recumbent, was unnerving. It was as if I had not ridden it before. I had a feeling I was going to get run over for the entire time I rode.

The Cross Check has a new drive train so I had to make sure it was functioning properly. I am happy to report that Sean at Spokes Etc. in Belle View did fine job. I probably should have told him to put on new bar tape and new brake pads but when he told me he’d change my chain and cassette while I waited I didn’t want to upset my karma.

Today I went with the flow. I rode the Mount Vernon Trail with its downed leaves. The trees at Dyke Marsh were bare. It was a sad sight, one that I will have to get used to for four or five months.

As I passed the golf course I saw a big bald eagle perched in the nest tree. I have been seeing him regularly for a couple of weeks. In the shallows of the river, there were many, many egrets and herons. They must be heading south.

It was in the low 50s. I was in denial. I didn’t wear wool socks. My feet are still cold four hours after I came inside.

I rode over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge because I, like Chuck Berry, had no particular place to go. The expansion joints are really bad. I am glad I don’t have a skinny-tired road bike.

I rode up to Oxon Hill Road then blew through a construction site because there was no accommodation for bike and pedestrians except the other side of a six lane road that I was in no mood to cross twice.

Back down to the Potomac River past the monstrosity of a casino that is being finished. I was going about 30 miles per hour and taking it easy. This is a great hill to ride down but it will be traffic hell soon when the casino opens. They better have some good concerts there because nothing else about it is appealing to me.

Once back in Virginia I rode to the north end of Old Town. Then I reversed course and rode back home. What an exciting trip.

Aside from my feet I was comfortably warm. The streets are double track with leaves on the sides and down the middle. It’s actually quite pretty.

I managed to make it home without any near death experiences. That’s a pretty low bar when you think about it.

I know that I am feeling a little antsy after the election. I imagine a lot of other people are too. So I am trying my best to be civil to people who do stupid things on the road. It helps to wear lobster gloves. Nobody can tell when you are flipping them off.

When you add the election to the other brain squirrels I have, you get a real psychiatric menagerie upstairs. Thank god for bike rides.

Do you remember when we were all saying, I can’t wait until the election is over? Be careful what you wish for.

 

 

 

 

It’s a Dystopia Out There

Tough week, n’est ce pas?

I spent most of it in Silicon Valley and San Francisco without a bike. My business trip included looking at flexible shared office space, a two-day meeting with futurists, a look see at driverless vehicles, and a demo of virtual reality.

The futurist meeting was pretty interesting because we were developing a sort of cultural business forecast when we were set upon by a yooge black swan. We were all thankful that we had lots of work to do on Wednesday.

On the way to dinner we found ourselves behind a driverless Google car. It looked pretty normal. It even cussed out a pedestrian in the crosswalk. (This was very advanced technology.)

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Google Driverless Car

We also browsed in a shop with the latest toys made from tech equipment including a bike helmet with head and taillights, brake lights, and turn signals. The was clearly meant for use in an urban environment. I like the concept but I ride on unlit trails so I need a heck of a lot more forward looking candlepower.

I also saw a device that looked a bit like a narrow black visor.  It wraps around your head and sends signals to your brain to improve your meditation experience. Or so they say. Seems to me a mantra or a candle is cheaper but what do I know? If you need this product, you have issues. Just sayin.’

I think the technology behind these sorts of things is fascinating, but I walked out of the shop thinking, “Why does anybody think they need this stuff?” If the economy depended on my spending habits, unemployment would be 75%.

The virtual reality demo would probably get a gamer all worked up. I tried it out and was impressed that it didn’t make me hurl. One of my colleagues was doing the demo with someone in the next room over. Their virtual hands touched. She says she faintly felt the touch on her actual hand. It turns out that virtual reality is useful for helping amputees cope with their situation. Brains are so cool.

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Virtual Reality Demo

Even our rental car had odd tech on it. The engine would shut off at traffic lights then restart when the gas pedal was depressed. This drove us all nuts. I wonder how many starter motors this car will go through?

Wherever we walked we could see people typing away on laptops in offices, shared spaces, coffee shops. It seemed all rather dystopian to me. California is a foreign country.

Between meetings on Wednesday and Thursday I read Tweets of despair from my DC-based friends. More than 90% of DC voters backed Clinton. Their tweets were the “OOF” from a punch in the existential gut.

Here’s my take on the election: Certain things don’t need to be written in the rulebook. When a baseball player comes to the plate, it is assumed he is not going to assault the plate umpire with his bat. There is no rule covering this.

For elections, you should be able to assume that candidates will not be human pond scum. Apparently, not. I lived through Nixon. I saw George Wallace’s mean spirited speeches. This is worse. I don’t care how disenfranchised people feel, using the ballot box to validate hatred is unacceptable. Pandora’s box of bigotry has been opened. I hope we figure out how to close it and burn it to ashes. Quickly.

I got back home at 11:30 last night. Today, I took Deets in for a new chain and cassette. The old one had nearly over 3,500 miles on it. Then I took Big Nellie out for a nice, meditative spin. I was focused on not getting killed. Breath in live, breath out die. So relaxing!

I managed to avoid about ten cars being driven randomly on Union Street in Old Town. (Look Martha! There’s a parking space!!!) Fortunately the only police officer around was busy lecturing a bicyclist so he missed all the death defying fun.

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In San Francisco Parking Signs Are Helpful

My ride took me to the Lincoln Memorial. All was calm. Then I rode a tailwind home by way of the vast and empty Pentagon North parking lot, Crystal City, Potomac Yards and Old Town.