Category: #bikedc

Daylight Retired Time

I’ve now been retired almost six months. If it hadn’t been for physical therapy and medical appointments, I would have no idea what day of the week it is.  (I’d also be somewhere warm, but that’s another story.) As for daylight savings time, who cares? The worst thing about standard time was riding to or from work (and for a couple of weeks each year both to and from) in the dark. Since I now get to determine where I go and when, the clock is of little concern.

Today, however, was a little different. I wanted to do some minor chores around the house, do my physical therapy, watch the Nats spring training game on TV, and go for a bike ride. I didn’t have time to squeeze my ride in before the game. But wait. It’s daylight savings time. I did the physical therapy and chores in the morning. Then I watched the game at 1 p.m. It was over by 4 p.m. and I had 3 1/2 hours of daylight left. And that’s not all; it was warmer in the afternoon than it was before the game. So I rode 24 1/2 miles afterwards.

My apologies to my bike commuting friends who will ride to work in the cold dark pre-dawn hours tomorrow. You’re tough. I’ll be thinking of you when I roll over in bed. Daylight Retired Time is hard.

 

 

Hoops, Sleep, Bike to DC, Bike Home, Nap, Repeat

The last couple of days have been killers. Our daughter’s college team is playing in an NCAA conference tournament. My wife and I watched the games. When I met my wife I was a very mellow marathon runner. Once I got behind the wheel of a car I became a raging maniac. She’s pretty much the same when watching college basketball. Her reactions to the game are as much fun as the game itself.

The games ended around 11:30 p.m. The morning after the first game, I got up before 6 a.m., skipped breakfast, and rode into a cold wind to Friday Coffee Club. It was worth it. Swings House of Caffeine once again has apple fritters. At 9 a.m. the festivities ended and I got to participate in the roll out. The remaining east bound club members ride across the Pennsylvania Avenue plaza in front of the White House then disburse to their homes and jobs. I think this was only my second roll out because I went west to my office after coffee.

I headed for home. I waited at Constitution Avenue at a red light. The Washington Monument stood to my right, encircled by flags on flag poles. All the flags were pointing straight out. Fortunately, they were pointing in my direction of travel. I still had to cross the Potomac River on the 14th Street Bridge. Long story short, I froze my ass off.

The 12 miles to home were blissfully wind aided.

I ate breakfast and took a nap.

Friday night I stayed up late again to watch Mrs. Rootchopper’s team get eliminated. This morning I awoke before 6, skipped breakfast again, and headed back to DC. This time I had a tailwind going to the city. I stopped at the Dyke Marsh bridge on the Mount Vernon Trail to renew my tradition of taking pictures of the early morning sun.

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My Cross Check jumped into the picture.

I arrived at the start of the Rock N Roll Half Marathon. This was on Constitution Avenue from about 14th Street to 9th Street. There were so many people that I couldn’t possibly find anyone I knew. I decided to find a good point on the course to view the runners.

I picked 18th and C Streets NW.  The streets were closed to cars and it was early so getting around was simple. I stood on the corner where the runners turned west off of 18th onto C. And watched.

The lead runners were incredibly fast. These folk were not messing around. Then the field became more and more crowded. I kept looking for my friends Ursula and Grace. And looking. And looking. Trying to find someone in a crowd like this brings on a kind of runner’s blindness, akin to snow blindness. Your brain just can’t process this much visual information.

Then I realized that a runner was coming right toward me. It was Ursula. She was just a few feet in front of me before I recognized her. I flinched when she gave me a high five (it’s her thing) because my hand was frozen. Right behind her was her co-worker Doug.  Another feeble high five. And they were away. I managed to get their picture from behind. (She’s got a fanny pack on. Doug is to her right.)
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I waited for Grace but I never saw her. On to Adams Morgan I rode, straight north on 18th Street.

I parked myself in the sun and waited as the runners turned from Calvert Street to go east on Columbia Road. It was still very cold, pretty much perfect for the runners. They were about a mile from running up the killer Calvert Street hill out of Rock Creek Park. Most of them had recovered, but Columbia Road was itself a bit of an incline.

Just as I began to get runner blindness again, I spotted Ursula. Yes! Then I accidentally shut off my camera. No! At least I got another high five. This time we made solid contact. Dang, it hurt. My hand was beet red.

I waited some more for Grace. She tweeted a description of her outfit (at my suggestion) so that her friends could pick her out of the crowd. I pulled out my phone to check the description and Twitter locked up on me. All I remembered from the tweet was that she was wearing gray tights (like a third of the field). Fortunately, Grace has red hair and tons of freckles. (I did too when I was a kid, so she gets bonus points in my book.)

And, sure enough, here she was. Her hair was pulled back and she wasn’t wearing glasses but she was easy to spot. And she was moving pretty fast despite the hill.

After she passed I rode across town to intercept the race again. This time I had to make my way through traffic jams. Drivers were now out and about and they were not happy to be hemmed in my street closures.

I made it to North Capitol Street. The runners were running south using the underpass to avoid New York Avenue. I had to use the side road and got stuck at a traffic light that lasted over a minute. I think the delay cost me a third shot at seeing Ursula. I set up camp at where the course turns east on K Street NE.

In just a few minutes Grace came cruising by. All smiles. She flashed a peace sign as she passed.

Grace Pooley

I turned and headed for the finish. This took much longer than I thought. At one point, on Capitol Hill I turned left where a police car was blocking off the road. My focus was in the distance and I didn’t see the yellow police tape strung across the road. I broke the tape with my helmet and apologized to the cop. He thought it was pretty funny and waved me on.

At the finish the runners were joined by family and friends. There was no hope of meeting up with anyone I knew so I decided to ride home.

By this time, I had come to realize that skipping breakfast was not the smartest move I could have made this morning. After I crossed the river, I had to contend with a strong headwind for the next 12 miles. Like yesterday, I had worn hiking boots instead of proper cycling shoes. The added quarter of an inch of sole made my knees very unhappy.

I pulled into home and ate all the things. The three cups of hot coffee could not have tasted better.

I had ridden 70 cold, windy miles in hiking boots on about 11 hours of sleep over two days. The coffee had no effect. I listened to my body and took a long nap on my bed in the warm afternoon sun.

 

Racing Underground

The weather isn’t so great around here in March so somebody came up with the idea of having indoor bike races in an underground parking garage in the Crystal City neighborhood of Arlington Virginia. I finally got around to checking this out tonight. There were three races. The first race is for novices. They ride whatever the want and go as fast or as slow as they want. One of the participants in this race wore what I wish I had wore at every Halloween party for the last 27 years.

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You can’t see it very well but the man in white is wearing a t-shirt that says “Cutters” across the front. The shirt and helmet exactly match the Cutters team at the Little Indy 500 in Breaking Away.  I didn’t check out his bike but I doubt it was a Roadmaster. Regardless, we are still a little disturbed by the developments in the middle east.

Note how the bicyclists race against the arrow indicating they are renegades who have no respect for authority.

I don’t know have any idea what the orange figure and X on the floor mean. You all should submit creative explanations in the comments section.

One of the other racers wore a donut costume, including sprinkles. He’s in pink, second from right in the front row at the start of the race below.

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The next race was the women’s race. The intensity level went up a few notches. The final race was the men’s race. The intensity went up again, in large part because the speed went up. I saw two crashes in the men’s race. Both men got up and jumped back on their bikes. I left before it was over. I couldn’t get on an elevator because EMTs were transporting a woman who apparently crashed. (She was awake and alert. Probably a case of garage rash.)

While the racers did their thing, the onlookers enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches, pie, and beverages. (I saw wine, beer, and cider. I would imaging that some non-alcoholic liquids were available as well.) It was noisy. There was an announcer, ventilation fans, music, and cheering. It was cold, thanks to the ventilation fans. But mostly it was a bit of zany fun on a chilly evening in early March.

The races in the garage beneath 201 12th Street. It’s at the northern most end of Crystal City.  Check it out next Wednesday from 6 to 8 p.m.

 

Another Sign of Spring – Errandonnee 2018

Do you have things to do? Do you do them with your car? Why not do them with your bike instead? Need a little nudge? Participate in the 2018 Errandonnee, a friendly game to get you out on your bike in the first week (or so) of spring.

Basically you run 12 errands over a 12 day period. The errands need to be spread across some creative categories, including “You Carried What on Your Bike?” To make things interesting there are rules. Lots of rules. (They’re not that bad. Really. Except if your name is Brian and you are notoriously grumpy.)

If you’re a runner, you can play under the official Run Option.

So don’t be grump. Get rolling.

Special thanks to Mary for taking this crazy thing on again.

 

 

 

 

Sundays Wear Me Out

What’s Buried in Grant’s Tomb? Winter.

The day began with another sign that winter is over. I finished Ron Chernow’s Grant. This was the last of the Christmas and get well books that have been on my nightstand since late December. It’s a mighty good biography.

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Blow Me Down

After reading, I headed outside for some wind storm clean up. We were really lucky. All we had in our yard was small branches and dead vines. It took about 90 minutes to get it picked up.

I could have worked more but I heard a cry from my bicycle shed and it sounded like my Cross Check saying “Ride me.”

So I did.

We went to the bank in Old Town Alexandria to deposit a check. On the way I passed under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge in Jones Point Park. Just beyond the bridge I saw a reminder of how lucky we were in this storm.

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Bald Eagles on My Mind

I hadn’t dressed quite warmly enough. I knew I wasn’t going to be out long. I turned around after ten miles and headed for home. I stopped to check out a bald eagle nest near the Mount Vernon Trail that I hadn’t seen before. This one is on the dirt road that goes through Dyke Marsh. The nest is about 200 yards from the marina access road (the one you cross when you leave Belle Haven Park heading south). With no leaves on the trees I had no trouble spotting the nest. It isn’t very big so I am guessing it’s new.  A good landmark is a bench on the right side of the trail facing away from the nest.

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Eagle nest with Dyke Marsh haul road in the foreground

This is one of three active nests along the Mount Vernon Trail between the beltway and the stone bridge, a distance of perhaps 3 miles. The other two are closer to the trail. A fourth nest which appears to be inactive can be seen across the Parkway from the trail about 1/4 south of the beltway.

A fifth nest, by far the biggest, is in Fort Hunt Park, about five miles south of the beltway. It is visible from the trail but it takes some searching. Go south past the Parkway ramps and across a curving wooden bridge on the trail. Once the trail rises a bit you get a clear view of the trees in the park and you’ll see a massive next. This one is definitely active.

If you don’t care to ride or walk along the trail to see bald eagles live you can always just watch them on the National Arboretum’s eagle cam. This nest is in the arboretum grounds in NE DC. The eagles are very active today so I think we’ll see an egg appear in the next day or so.

After my eagle nest diversion, I headed to my local bike shop to buy a new vest. They had all their winter clothes eon sale for 40 percent off. But no vests. Boo.

So I went to the gym to lift weights.

Then I rode 4 miles to home.

I am tired.

Nap time.

Musings on a Windy Day

  • I intended to go to Friday Coffee Club today. The founders were bringing birthday cake in honor of six years of caffeinated camaraderie. I would have had to ride 15 miles into headwinds in excess of 30 miles per hour with wind gusts up into the 50s. I went back to bed and dreamed of cake and coffee. Thanks Ed and Mary and Brian and Lane and Lisa for starting the best thing going in #bikedc. See you next week.
  • The winds have been really intense all day, so I took it as an opportunity to get new tires for Mrs. Rootchopper’s car. Her front tires were nearly bald so I wanted to replace them. As it turned out the rear tires were not a whole lot better so we bought four new ones. I am happy to say that the car passed inspection later in the day. I am done with cars for a while.
  • But not licenses. My driver’s license is expiring in mid-August. This is not good. I will need a license to board a flight home from the west coast after making my cross country tour this summer. (Knocking wood all over the place….) Fortunately I can get my license renewed well in advance. Seems like a good thing to do on a rainy day between now and May.
  • Little Nellie is being worked on by my local bike shop. She now has a new big chain ring and a new shifter cable. The mechanic found that the bottom bracket was pretty much a mess. 19,000 miles of cycling will do that I suppose. So they replaced that as well. I was going to pick it up this afternoon but…
  • On the way to the bike shop I encountered a tree that had fallen across three of four lanes of the George Washington Memorial Parkway. The tree had been uprooted by the wind. This is not entirely surprising since the soil near the Parkway is usually damp as a result of being right next to the Potomac River. On the way home from the bike shop, I took a different route and found a main road closed because of a downed power line.
  • My wife and I received $44 from the Commonwealth of Virginia for overpayment of taxes in 2012. That’s right, seven years ago. Within seconds two Facebook friends sought replenishment of beer debts. Yes, I have beer debts which is pretty strange considering the fact that I am under doctor’s orders not to drink alcohol.
  • Speaking of not drinking, I fully expected to feel some kind of fantastic from abstaining from beer. I don’t feel the slightest bit different. I probably weigh five pounds less than I would have though.
  • While the car was being repaired I went to the gym to lift weights. My body should look like the Hulk’s by now. Nope. You wouldn’t like me when I’m wimpy.
  • I thought about going to opening day at Nationals Park this year. Then I looked at the prices. $60+ for nosebleeds. I think I’ll resist the hype.
  • My TV stopped emitting sound, but not while using it for Internet Service. I called the cable company. The cable guy swapped cable boxes and tried every adjustment he could think of. Then he mentioned the fact that the TV has a mother board. I got online and saw a suggestion to unplug the TV and plug it back in. A hard reboot as you would do to a PC. Damned if it didn’t work.
  • I am enjoying the insane storm called The Beast from the East that is hitting the UK and Ireland now. Lauren (who I met at Friday Coffee Club) is a Massachusetts native in Dublin.  My daughter Lily is in London. They are both posting pictures on Instagram that look more like Boston that Dublin or London.
  • I have started to cogitate about the route I will take to ride to the Pacific. I am thinking that riding to the Pacific Northwest would be the thing to do because I have never been there. There are loads of options. Feel free to send me suggestions.

Breaking the Cycle – Again

We are very excited for the 2nd annual Breaking the Cycle Ride. There’s some new additions this year: Kick-off party, Thursday, April 26 4:00 pm – 8:00 pm 4017 Damascus Rd, Gaithersburg, MD 20882 Join us at Waredaca for happy hour on Thursday, April 26. The Dwelling Place will receive a portion of the evening’s […]

via New for 2018’s ride! — Breaking the Cycle

These things are fun (and for a good cause) and fun is good.

February Wasn’t So Bad

Without any major snow storms and some very warm days, February turned out to be a decent month for riding a bicycle in the DMV. I managed to pound out 657.5 miles, a little over 23 miles per day. That’s 101 more miles than in January when my lungs were still messed up with pulmonary embolisms.

I rode all four of my bikes, but 549.5 miles were ridden on my Cross Check, which passed 8,000 miles on the odometer. I rode only 57 miles in the basement. Up hill both ways. My longest ride was 50 miles and it was preceded by a 48.5 mile day. Not too shabby.

I got back to going to the gym and lifted weights two to three times per week. My left shoulder has been screwed up for month so I added trips to the physical therapist twice a week. The shoulder starting to come around but I can’t really say the therapy should get credit. I stopped doing some weight lifting exercises that put stress on my shoulders and this has allowed the nerves to calm down.

I pierced the 1,000 mile mark, reaching 1,204 as of the end of the month. If you asked me two months ago if I would have half this many miles under my belt, I’d have thought you were crazy. What’s even more surprising to me is how I am gaining strength on the bike daily. I go up hills without the gawdawful panting and wheezing of last summer.

I started getting up before dawn to ride to Friday Coffee Club when it moved back to its original location at Swings House of Caffeine at 17th and G Streets NW. On my last visit, I had another run in with Secret Service police who seem to think I am an evil doer.  It must have been the desperate look of caffeine deprivation. Maybe I’ll start carrying a white flag.

I had lunch today with some folks, one of whom, Marie, is doing a bike tour with her husband Roy starting next week. (You can follow their exploits on their blog.) They will ride north from Jacksonville Florida to as close to DC as they can get in three weeks. She and her husband rode cross country last summer. Just talking to her has turned my mind toward “the big one” this summer. Once the weather breaks I’ll be in full planning frenzy mode.

In the meantime I will be focusing on car-related activities. My wife’s car needs to pass inspection. The sticker cost $35. The repairs to get it to pass the inspection will be close to $2,000.

I also need to get my driver’s license renewed. This seems kind of stupid since I’ll be on a bike for 2 1/2 months, but TSA won’t let me come home without one.

 

 

February Bikabout

I expected to wake up sore and tired after yesterday’s combo of long bike ride, weight lifting, and physical therapy. Nope. I felt fine. So after breakfast I dropped off the car at a mechanic and walked two miles back home. I still felt fine so I filled up my tank with calories galore and headed out on the Cross Check. I wore shorts and a t-shirt because it’s February. And the temperature was already in the mid-60s at 10 a.m.

Crazy.

I rode bike trails 23 miles to Bethesda where I checked out Modern Market, a shop for which I have three gift cards. The place looked pretty good but my tummy was still holding the calories from back home so I headed back home the way I came.

The ride from Bethesda to Georgetown is a gentle downhill. This pretty much negated the effect of the stiff headwind. Once back to the river I had to fight the wind for about 12 miles. I I would have complained but it was well over 70 degrees.

I tacked on a few miles in the neighborhoods near home for an even 50 miles. The 98.5 miles over the last two days is by far the most I’ve ridden since the end of my bike tour in Florida back in October. Take that blood clots!

Oh, and, speaking of my medical misadventures, I just received a call from my endocrinologist. The lab tests say that the adenoma on my adrenal gland is innocuous. That’s one medical specialist I don’t have to see again.

And the foam roller arrived so that I can do my physical therapy exercises properly at home. The therapy is for rehabbing my shoulder but lying on this foam roller makes my back feel amazing.

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The Potomac River at the Kennedy Center with Theodore Roosevelt Island on the right.
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A depressing sign on the Capital Crescent Trail near the Potomac River.
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In the center rear of this picture was once a building with a tunnel through which the Georgetown Branch Trail passed.
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Dyke Marsh on the Mount Vernon Trail.
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It’s Wednesday so I had to wear my WABA socks. These legs haven’t seen sunlight in months.

 

 

Winter Weather or Not

Nine years ago today, a 32-year-old bike commuting friend of mine posted these words on my Facebook page:

“I just could not feel my body in the cold. So I damaged it without noticing it!”

What a difference nine years makes! Today was almost summer-like in DC. I saw a roadside sign that indicated it was 78F degrees at 3:30.

Of course, I saw this sign while out on my bike.

I didn’t get started until just before midday. I had spent the morning eating diner food and going to the library with Mrs. Rootchopper.  With my belly and brain satisfied, I was off on my Cross Check for a jaunt up the Anacostia River.

I began my ride on the Mount Vernon Trail. I crossed the Potomac River on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge Trail. Once in Maryland, I made the long slog up to Oxon Hill Road. The climb goes right past a massive MGM casino. The ginormous electronic sign indicated that Cher was performing there this month. I don’t gamble and I don’t Cher so let’s just say the whole casino thing is lost on me. I think the complex looks like the Imperial Star Destroyer from Star Wars. I prefer Mos Eisley bars to casinos.

Having reached Oxon Hill Road I made my way to Oxon Hill Farm and proceeded to ride right back down the hill to the river. Somebody’s got some explaining to do.

The Oxon Cove Trail winds its way to a enclave of public buildings including a police training facility, a city bus maintenance yard, some Smithsonian greenhouses and a vocational training complex. After perusing all these fine public sector facilities, I rode right back up the hill to Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue.

MLK Jr. Ave is not exactly where it’s at. I think maybe it’s were it might have been at about 80 years ago. It’s actually kind of depressing. My ride north took me past the grounds of St. Elizabeth’s nervous hospital. The complex is being taken over by the Department of Homeland Security which probably says something snarky about DHS.

The ride through Congress Heights and Anacostia was interesting. Drivers in this part of DC use the freestyle method of motoring. Random u-turns, lane changes, horn honking are the rule. I waved a thank you to a driver for not cutting me off and he laid on his horn. De nada, dude.

Suffice it to say, my rather precarious medical condition made me apprehensive for this part of the ride. I was happy to see the Anacostia River Trail which runs rather appropriately along the Anacostia River. And so, like a Yogi Berra malapropism, I took it. North. The scenery was still the grays and browns of winter but the temperature told me it was late spring.

I rolled along the trail past the garbage consolidation facility (helps with the sinuses don’t you know), past the Aquatic Gardens (the flower show happens much later in the year), through assorted fields, both natural and athletic, and around a cement plant to Bladensburg. As I crossed over the Anacostia, I passed about five priests (or, more likely, seminarians as they all looked pretty young). We waved at each other. I said “Mea Culpa” three times for good measure. (I was a altar boy who had to learn the Latin Mass and the English Mass, a biographical fact that dates the crap out of me. )

I am kidding about the Mea Culpas, by the way.

Once across the river I consulted the Google for advice on how to ride home without retracing my steps. I rode up the river until the trail split into the Northeast and Northwest Branch Trails. I took the latter and spotted a cupcake shop, a landmark from the Cider Ride last November. I didn’t stop. (I know, what a fool.) But I did find a trail that would take me back toward DC.

After a few miles I bailed on the trail It would have taken me to Queens Chapel Road which I am familiar with. Basically, it’s a bicycle death trap. So I started riding neighborhood streets and following the sun. I found myself back in DC riding a straight street to the west. In these parts “straight” almost always translates into “hilly”. As I slogged up one long hill, I passed an old man doddering around his front yard. He looked at me and remarked, “Better you than me.”

I love it when I’m mocked.

Soon I was in familiar territory. Monroe Street leads to 8th Street which leads to the Metropolitan Branch Trail. How nice of someone to put a trail with very few cross streets right in the middle of a city. The trail took me back southward and after a wiggle and waggle I was on a cycletrack that took me right past the incomparably boring Bureau of Labor Statistics.

I rode past a scrum of photographers at a courthouse. They were waiting to take a picture of a Trump associate who was being charged with treason or money laundering or some such offense. (I can’t keep it all straight, to be honest.)

Soon thereafter I was riding along the National Mall pretending I was in the Olympic tourist dodge event. I was pretty proud that I didn’t hit a single one.

After the podium ceremony, I rode around the tidal basin and over the 14th Street Bridge to the Mount Vernon Trail. The 12-mile ride from the bridge to my house was interrupted by a stop at the gym, because nothing improves a 48 1/2 mile bike ride quite like lifting weights.

Fug.

I arrived home exhausted but still had some physical therapy exercises to do. I am doing these because my left shoulder is on the blink.

Despite trying really hard, I did not damage my body. I guess you need cold weather to do that.