Another Night of Advocatin’

Monday is my physical therapy day. Today’s plan: pain and humiliation. Sadly, it was a success. I felt pretty good when it was over. The pre- and post-PT morning bike commute was pretty nice despite the fact that I rode into a headwind and had to wear my holey sweater. Die winter. Die already.

The ride home was comfy. We still seem to be having a problem with fair weather commuters passing too close and too fast on the Mount Vernon Trail. If it keeps up, I will break out my bicycle death ray and do the miscreant in.

After I arrived home, I showered and changed then drove (yes, drove) the half mile to a meeting on repaving and restriping the streets near my home. I drove so as not to intimidate the locals. Fortunately, Jeff (a sometime Friday Coffee Club attendee who lives in my neighborhood) rode his bike to the meeting. I am told by a certain Nelle Pierson that women are in the minority in #bikeDC. I don’t know where Nelle is getting her statistics from but I can’t swing a frame pump these days without hitting a woman on a bike. (Somehow that came out terribly wrong. You get the point, I hope.) Jeff and I had company at this meeting. One attendee was a mom who bikes her toddler around these parts in a cargo bike. She was quite vocal. (Taking lessons from Nelle no doubt.) Another attendee was Linel, who I had just met on Sunday. They both sang the praises of Nelle’s Women and Bicycles program. (Follow the link and you can donate to the cause.)

The meeting was kind of a dud. The Virginia Department of Transportation maintains the roads in our neighborhoods. Since they will be re-striping anyway, the Fairfax County bike plan folks want them to add bike lanes and sharrows. This is part of the county’s bicycle master plan. A few attendees were concerned about sharrows attracting bicyclists to danger zones where bicyclists could get hurt. The thought of holding drivers (such as themselves) accountable for incompetent operation of cars never seems to occur to these folks. I refrained from making a speech about wrong-headed contributory negligence laws, lax enforcement of traffic laws, the nine people I know who have been injured or killed by motor vehicles in the DMV in the last four years, and suspending of licenses to drivers who can’t see at night or in low light conditions. Next time I’m bringing pictures of my wife’s contusions.

A bigger concern was the issue that the county has roads that appear to have been designed by drunkards. Lanes and sidewalks come and go at random. Asphalt side paths meander over washboard tree roots. Two adjacent schools are not connected by a sidewalk so students have to walk in the street. Somebody. somewhere, at some point in time looked the other way or was downright incompetent when all this was being built. It was nice to see these points raised but, alas, they were not the focus of the meeting.

It was clear from the get go that the re-striping would not take away any parking spaces so the opposition was pretty mild.

Road by road. Stripe by stripe. Meeting by meeting. That’s how bike infrastructure gets built. It takes a long time. By the time Fairfax County is bicycle friendly I’ll be pushing up daisies. I hope that the inane roads of the county don’t make this anytime soon.

Springing for a Few Hours

It is so frustrating. I want to ride in warm air but the air doesn’t warm up until mid-afternoon.

I procrastinated like mad all morning. Finally, with temperatures in the mid-40s I headed out. I rode to Spokes Etc. Belle Haven shop, my local bike store. I was expecting a long line at the service area but there was none. I asked Carlos to check out my chain. It’s been making crunchy noises that no amount of cleaning and lubing can fix. Carlos declared my chain to be dead. Unfortunately, despite the lack of a line there was enough work in the queue that I’d have had to wait and hour for him to replace the chain and casette (which was also toast). So I decided to bring the bike in after work during the week. One of the best things about this shop is their willingness to squeeze in small jobs like this.

After my stop at the bike shop, I noticed that the temperature had risen into the 50s. Not warm, but warm-ish. I tweeted that I was out and about. Bob “Don’t Call Me Rachel” Cannon was hanging with his wife Liz and one of their foster dogs at a cafe in Del Ray about 4 miles away. I rode like the wind to join them. Well actually I rode like a gentle breeze. Fast I ain’t.

Along the way I passed a new pizza place on Belle Haven Road between Fort Hunt Road and the Mount Vernon Trail. It’s a sister store to Del Ray Pizzeria. It has an interesting menu and beaucoups beers on tap and in bottles. Just the thing for the hungry cyclist. Two caveats however. First, they have no bike racks for bike parking. Second, access from the Mount Vernon Trail involves crossing the GW Parkway at grade. This is not a lot of fun. An alternative is to take the U1 connector trail from South Washington Street to Fort Hunt Road. Take FHR to a left on Belle Haven Road.

By the time I arrived at Del Ray, where Bob and Liz were coincidentally dining, the temperature had risen into the 60s. Ahhhhh. I spent an hour or so talking to Bob and Liz. Their dog had one albino eye and one brown eye. I tried to get a picture bit he kept turning his head. Dog vanity is a bitch.

I headed home. I am pretty sure I am carrying an extra five or ten pounds because the hills on Fort Hunt Road seemed like L’Alpe d’Huez. I was so slow. Maybe I need one of those super fast Surlys like KL has. Springing for a few bucks?

Cherry Blossoms from the Sky

This week was doing so well. I had two bike commutes to start the week. Then zipless monkey conversation on Wednesday. Thursday was cool but the riding was pleasant. Then came Friday. I had been absent from Friday Coffee Club for too long. Ice on the Mount Vernon Trail and a business trip kept me away.

It was 35 degrees and raining when I left the house. No.

Then the rain turned to ice pellets. No. Just no.

We are supposed to be seeing cherry blossoms right about now.

So the ice pellets turned to snowflakes. I went with it. Lemons and lemonade. Dalai Lama Palmer plays it as it lays.

I stuck my tongue out as I rode. Time for my inner boy to come out. (I dialed it back though. In my grammar school days, I used to ride my bike down the street and jump off to see how far the bike would go before it wobbled to the ground. (Quite a long way if you are wondering.) Misery turned to play.

I arrived at coffee club with cold wet feet. I broke my SEC (Stop eating crap) rule and had a fritter. Comfort food.

Mary, Queen Errandonnista, was giving out patches. I didn’t take one but she held one up and took my picture for the historical record. Lis did take one and, true to my pathetic photography skills, I took a blurry picture.

I rode with Brian down G Street after coffee. My waterproof gloves were full of cold rain water. It was a squishy ride to work.

The ride home was better. This time of year I often bring some extra cycling gear. Yesterday I brought an extra pair of gloves. Good thing to as my morning gloves were still soaking wet.

The ride home was filled with duck quacks. In just a matter of days, the duck (mostly mallards) population has exploded. Duck weather isn’t all that good for cycling.

It is now Saturday morning. 37 degrees outside. The first full day of spring. I’m just sittin’ here doin’ time. I’d rather be riding. And seeing cherry blossoms on the trees.

Bloat and My Fusiform Gyrus

Since Sunday I have been inhaling food and beer like there is no tomorrow. (I blame the Buddha. Did you ever notice the beer belly on that dude?) On Sunday, I drank a couple of beers with my pizza at lunch. Bloat. Monday was a office happy hour. I was happy so I went and had two beers. Bloat.Tuesday was Saint Patrick’s Day. Being the decendant of assorted Gavins, Hanlons, Cairnses, and Kerwins, I did not feel the need to prove my ancestral bona fides with beer. Un-bloat.

During the day on Tuesday, I sent a text to KL apologizing for completely not recognizing her at the Swedish embassy on Sunday. This led to a flurry of texts back and forth during which KL suggested that I may have neurological issues: “You should totally get your fusiform gyrus checked out.”

Only…

in…

DC.

I raised a white flag and proposed an IRL summit. This summit was held at a watering hole in downtown DC on Wednesday evening. What we thought was going to be “a drink” turned into a four- hour remake of My Dinner with Andre. (To her credit, KL looks decidedly better than Wallace Shawn. Now that I think about it, ANYBODY looks better than Wallace Shawn, including Wallace Shawn.) Many more beers were consumed. And hummus. And burgers. Bloat. Suffice it to say that for somebody I can’t seem to recognize, KL is most excellent company. Of course, with my defective fusiform gyrus, it is conceivable that I may have been talking to just about anybody.

I expected today’s bike commute to be a slogfest complete with hangover. (Four beers are quite enough to give me a hangover. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.) Instead I woke up clear headed and ready to roll. It was a little cool outside but I had a beautiful ride to work. Of course, this included another stellar sunrise.

The rest of the ride was one of those two wheeled, hour long meditations that I love. Every so often my dream state was interupted by the sight of a bird I hadn’t seen in months. Or the realization that a beaver has been hard at work near the aptyly named beaver bridge. The water level is now up to the underside of the bridge. Or the early morning light making the monuments look more monumental. Hell, I even survived the Intersection of Doom.

The ride home was every bit as serene. In fact, I’d say that the only thing worth complaining about was the fact that fair weather bike commuters are a little rusty on their etiquette. (Call out your passes, people.)

Unless it snows like a bitch (which is not entirely out of the question) I will ride to Friday Coffee Club tomorrow. Then, this weekend I will lay off the beer. And the pizza. And the burgers. And the hummus.

And maybe I look into getting my fusiform gyrus tweaked.

Rising into Spring

Paying to say goodbye is flying on the ground.

“Use your third eye.”

“We have today; tomorrow may not come.”

“So we have learned.”

“Be safe.”

“Be happy.”

Send an apple pie to the far side of the world.

Birds return. Evening light. Riding in shorts.

“Do I know you?”

“You totally should get your fusiform gyrus checked out.”

Laughing so hard it hurts.

Well on the way to fixing a hole.

“I’ll do.” Indeed.

Dreadless Monday

You could approach the begining of the work week with a sense of dread. Or you could jump on your bike and ride to work along the Potomac River in time for this.

On the way to work I stopped for 90 minutes of torture at my physical therapist. They took measurements to see how my range of motion has improved over the last two months. My range of motion has deteriorated. This could be because I rode hard yesterday. Or it could be that my body thinks medical science is poppycock.

After work a bunch of people went to happy hour. I can always use a little more happy so I went. After two glasses of happy, I went back to the office and changed into my bike commuting gear. It was warm out so I wore less than in the morning. Riding home in shorts with regular biking gloves is also a good way to add a little more happy.

The Mount Vernon Trail was somewhat busy. This is the price I pay for warmer weather. Warmer weather brings new sounds. During the last week or so, the number of bird songs has increased dramatically. I especially like hearing the red wing blackbirds. This evening I heard another welcome sound. At Jones Point Park south of Old Town Alexandria I heard the first spring peepers of the year. Yes!

Once I left the Mount Vernon Trail I had to content with an unusual number of drunk drivers. At least that’s what it seemed like. Drivers were zigging when they should have been zagging.

So Monday ended. It wasn’t dreadful. It was dreadless.

Blueberry Soop – 24 and There’s So Much More

Today was the Vasa ride, the first #bikedc event of the year. The Vasa ride is put on by WABA in collaboration with the Swedish embassy. Then idea is to mimic the Vasaloppet, an annual cross country skiing event in Sweden. (I tried telemark style biking but have since reverted to conventional nordic style.)

Last night I traded tweets with fellow Mount Vernon bike commuter Linel. We hadn’t met in real life so it was decided that I would give her a ride to the start. I picked her up in the sea of condos in Belle Haven/View just south of Old Town. The Mule was already on my bike rack. It takes considerable effort to get it there as The Mule is actually a corruption of Molnir, Thor’s hammer, which only Thor can lift. I picked up Linel’s bike, a Trek Madone, and couldn’t believe how light it was. It was like hefting a can of beer, without the beer.

Not wanting to search endlessly in Georgetown for a parking space, I parked in Rosslyn and we rode Key Bridge into Georgetown. About 1 block from the start we rode by no fewer than ten empty parking spaces. Doh!

The starting area had an abundance of #bikedc people I knew. Gina and Michelle from WABA were working the registration area. Liz was volunteering there as well. Chris M. and Rachel “Don’t Call Me Bob” Cannon were marshalls. Ed and Mary (she less than 24 hours removed from running a marathon) and Dave and Jean were hanging out with their Co-Motion tandems. Up rolled Shawn, Brian, Jonathan, Lisa, Ryan, Will, John Roche (all the way from Baltimore), and Matilde.

Some of these folks rolled out on the 59-mile course, the rest of us headed out on the 31 mile ride. We cruised along without incident and learned that Linel’s Madone is equipped with an anti gravity device as she cruised up the hill on Reservoir Road. A few minutes later winter took a bite out of the fun as Matilde lost her phone when her bike’s impact with a pothole sent it flying.

We climbed up the small hill at the reservoir. I took off on the backside and fell in with a group of people riding in a pace line. Wee, no headwind for me. Chris B. flew by, heading back toward DC.

I continued on rather pleased with myself until we reached the hill at Great Falls Park. Here I demonstrated my craptastic hill climbing abilities. Bicyclists after bicyclist passed me and my bruised ego. The first thing to go is your legs. The second thing to go is your pride.

I rolled into the rest stop in Potomac Village and rested. Foods were eaten. Bathrooms were broken. Rest was achieved.

Back we went toward the start. As I turned left into Avenel I was pushed by a strong tailwind gust. Rather than waste the energy, I down shifted and started pedaling hard. The Mule and I went all 02134. (Obscure PBS reference.)

Peter pulled along beside me. He had been meandering around the route and decided to head back to DC. As we chatted he told me how he, too, had lost his phone. We rode side by side down Persimmon Tree Road to MacArthur Boulevard. Tailwinds made for easy work.

IMG_20150315_114859 — Sea of Bikes at the Finish

At the finish we made our way inside the Swedish embassy to partake of the blueberry soup. It was hot but not as sweet as I recalled from previous years. At the embassy we met up with Lis. This was the first time I’ve seen her in the wild. Normally, I see her at Friday Coffee Club. I also met up with Randy from the Alexandria Bike Ped Advisory Committee.

A few minutes later KL came up to me and introduced herself. I drew a blank until she explained we met at the WABA holiday party last December. She introduced her friend Magen.

After a few minutes of souping, we gathered together 11 people and headed to Pizzeria Paradiso in Georgetown where KL and Magen were already seated. (Who says bicycle events don’t do something for local businesses?)

After some fine pizza and beer, we parted ways. Linel and I rode across Key Bridge and were soon on our way homeward.

All in all, the Vasa ride provided a pretty darn good start to the #bikedc event year. I think it’s incredible that I, a pretty serious introvert, can go to a bike event in DC and see 23 people I know and meet another. Many thanks to all the volunteers who helped out. Thanks also to the WABA employees who gave up their Sunday to make this happen. Humongous thanks to Michelle Cleveland, WABA’s event coordinator. She was working on four hours of sleep and somehow managed to keep smiling throughout the day.

For some more pix of the day, check out my Flickr album.

Errandonnee Scorecard

To be an official Errandonnee finisher, you have to complete a scorecard. Since I have blogged about each of my errands my score card will just be links to those other posts. Thanks to Mary for doing this again this year. As usual, this little contest got me out of the house when I’d otherwise be loafing.

Errand No. 1: You Carried WHAT on Your Bike?

I rode to a park to go snowshoeing so I put the snowshoes on my rack.

Miles: 11

Errand No. 2: Personal Care # 1

After snowshoeing I rode to Sherwood Gourmet for a sammich.

Miles: 1.5

Errand No. 3: Personal Business # 1

I went to the bank.

Miles: 6.5

Errand No. 4: Store # 1

I rode to a shoe store to get some orthotic inserts.

Miles: 1

Errand No. 5: Non-store Errand

I wobbled across the street to buy some Girl Scout cookies.

Miles: 0.05

Errand No. 6: Personal Care # 2

On the way to work I went to the physical therapist.

Miles: 6.5

Errand No. 7: Work or Volunteer # 1

I rode my bike to and from work.

Miles: 23

Errand No. 8: Work or Volunteer # 2

I rode my bike to and from work again.

Miles: 30

Errand No. 9: Personal Business # 2

I stopped at the bank on my way home from work

Miles: 9

Errand No. 10: Arts and Entertainment

I listened to a woman singing opera on a street corner.

Miles: 0.5

Errand No. 11: Social Call

I rode to meet up with the Freezing Saddles Pi Day ride.

Miles: 6.5

Errand No. 12: Store # 2

I rode Little Nellie to the bike store for some TLC.

Miles 3

I did several more errands by bike that don’t count for one reason or another. I rode to work two more days. I went to the supermarket. And I went to the bank a third time.

Pictures can be found at each of the links. You can also check out the Flickr page.

Errandonnee # 9 and 10 – Banking and Busking

I was begining to think that the clock was going to run out on my errrand running. I only have four more days to knock off four errands. One of those four days is taken up by a business trip. So I needed to get busy.

I can’t count my ride to work because I already have two commutes to my credit. So on the way home I swung by the bank to check about transfering funds between accounts. Unfortunately, the account I need to pull the money from hasn’t recognized my paycheck yet so the trip was for naught. I still get to count the trip as Personal Business even though it’s more or less identical to a previous bank errrand.

From the bank I rode down King Street, the main drag of Old Town Alexandria. As I approached the Torpedo Factory, a former torpedo factory turned IMG_20150312_174209 arts center, I heard the beautiful voice of a woman singing opera. Where else do you find a busking opera singer? So I stopped and took in a few minutes of the show.

After she finished singing her song, a man holding a baby walked up. He launched into an opera tune of his own. Then she joined in. And then the incredibly cute baby, started howling as if to say, “Not again Mom and Dad!” The two singers suppressed laughter as they continue to sing through the howls.

Just another day on the MVT. How I love living here,

Errand No. 9: Personal Business – Bank

Miles: 9

Observation: I really should do this sort of errand online but my log in info expires from neglect.

Errand No. 10: Arts and Entertainment – Opera on the Mount Vernon Trail

Miles: 1/2

Observation: Do I have the most amazing bike commute or what?!!!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Most of the people I know in the #bikedc world live in or near DC. Their commutes are much shorter than mine. Either on their way home or after arriving at home, they often go out to restaurants, art events, or bars. I envy them.

A friend of mine moved from Adams Morgan, in the heart of the city, to subrurban McLean last summer. Her five minute commute radicaly changed. Instead of riding down a hill to work she now had a multi-modal, expensive monstrosity to deal with. She rode her bike to the Metro, rode Metro into the city, and rode to her job. To do this she had to arrive at Metro before 7 am to take her bike on the train. On the return she had to wait until 7 pm to take her bike on the train.

She complained that she had no time to do the things (yoga, meditation, Skype, blog, etc.) that she used to do in the evenings.Then I realized she was complaining about a life that I have just accepted as normal. My bike commute and job suck up at least 12 hours of my day. In winter, it’s worse because of all the layers of clothing that I have to put on and take off four times in a day.

So tonight I sat down to blog and realized it is already 10 am. I will be getting up in eight hours. I should be tired but I am not. After all, I have ridden nearly 90 miles since Monday. Yet I haven’t felt this good in months. A warm ride home along the river really floats my boat. It would be nice to be able to pull into Meridian Pint or the Right Proper Brewing Company on the way home for a pint of cold ale. Then again, I saw an amazingly beautiful great blue heron on my way home tonight. He was standing in the river motionless, as if posing for me. Yes, sir, you are one beautiful work of art.

So sometimes I wish I lived and rode in the city. Mostly, as my McLean friend was once advised, I am careful what I wish for.