Let the Mayhem Begin

It’s Bike to Work Week which culminates with Bike to Work Day on Friday. Bike to Work Day is to year-round bike commuters as New Years Eve was to W. C. Fields. If people like me are going to get through the week, we have to chill. We have to have extra patience. We have to be extra aware of every minute of our ride to and from work.

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This morning’s ride to work was surprisingly normal. There were plenty of new bike commuters but they all rode predictably and sanely. Despite a cool headwind it was an enjoyable ride.

The ride home was a different matter. It was like being in a video game. I had a strong tailwind and the temperature was in the low 70Fs. Speeds were a bit higher. People were looking around. Leafed out trees and bushes were obstructing sight lines.

On the ride down to the bike trail, I made my way around two young women with two dogs taking up the entire trail. Ding! They moved. I hit the chicane and there were three people arrayed across the width of the path. The one on my side of the path jumped to the side and said “Sorry!”

A line of bikes approached me on the super nice new trail at the TR Island parking lot. One of them decided to pass the others and came right at me. Good thing the new path is wider. I made some snide remark at the pathlete and rode on.

The next few miles were cool. As I rode I directed traffic like a quarterback point out the coverage in the defensive backfield. You go. Keep coming I’ll wait. Pointing my passes out. Hike!

Approaching the beaver bridge north of Slaters Lane, two short old-ish women dressed for February were having a conversation. One on the left side of the path, the other on the right. They created a pinch point. DING! I slowed and threaded the needle without incident.

I came around the blind curve at the Slaters Lane apartments and there were people on either side of the trail. One stepped back realizing they were positioned dangerously. She said “Sorry!”

After the power plant comes a right followed by a left that takes the trail along the railroad tracks. A grandpa, a grandma, and a toddler were standing along the trail. Grandpa crossed the trail. I rang my bell. Toddler followed Grandpa. Grandma followed Toddler across the trail without holding Toddler’s hand. Grandma didn’t react to my bell at all so I slowed to a near stop. She never looked at any of the other people approaching her on the trail either. Grandma needs to see an audiologist.

I made it through Old Town without incident allowing a bus to run interference for me through the pedestrian throngs.

Under the Wilson Bridge I was cruising along when a girl on a skateboard came sailing toward me from an access path to my right. I yelled “Hey” and she stopped with a smile on her face as if to say “My bad.”

On the climb to Washington Street, I caught up to Big Ed, who was fighting gravity and losing. Ed and I rode together for the next several miles. We crossed the Cameron Run bridge. A Hispanic mom, dad, and daughter were fishing from the bridge. As I approached, mom and daughter back pedaled in front of me. I said “Hello” and veered around them. They didn’t react. Next time I’ll try “Hola.”

The rest of the ride was a slalom run around pedestrians. Lots of pedestrians.

We didn’t hit a single one. We are professionals.

I didn’t drop a single f-bomb. Ed cursed a blue streak. (Okay, I’m kidding. About Ed.)

My hope is that heat and humidity will keep the number of evening strollers down as the week progresses and the number of bike commuters increases.

Don’t Know Much about Pop Culture

Bike commuting and baseball have ruined me for pop culture. I have no idea what music is on the radio because I so rarely drive. When I do, I want something continuous – like a ballgame or NPR – because I don’t like having to change channels to avoid an annoying song. (One of the most annoying songs of my teenage days plays a prominent role in the new Guardians of the Galaxy movie. It’s all very tongue in cheek but it sucked then and it sucks worse with the passage of time.)

I have friends who “like” celebrities on social media. About a third of the time I catch myself thinking: I thought celebrity means fame. I’ve never heard of or seen this person before. Monica Bellucci? John Krasinski? Leah Dunham? Somehow life goes on without them.

The same thing goes for music. I know who Ed Sheeran and The Weeknd and Taylor Swift and Adele are but I can’t name any of their songs. Garth Brooks sold 100 million records but I would recognize not a single one. (Longtime readers know that I am a diehard Neil Finn fan, but his music is rarely on the radio.)

I am grateful for this. I know baseball. I know that when a fast runner is on first and a left handed batter is up, the runner should not steal. I know the three precepts of good pitching. I know that right field in Fenway Park is a bitch and why left handed pitchers are called southpaws and how this affects the shadows on the field late in the day. When I watch a game, the little things are way more interesting than the score.

I don’t know music because I spend hours everyday on a bike and I think riding (or running or hiking) with headphones is a crime against nature. If you are using these devices you are putting yourself and those around you at risk because you lack situational awareness. More importantly, as far as I am concerned, you miss the ENTIRE POINT of riding or walking or hiking. It’s not about the bike and it’s not about the body. When you are climbing a hill or flying down one or going through a series of turns (point your inside knee toward the turn) or concentrating on pedaling without mashing the pedals , you can only focus on keeping the rubber side down, on keeping your respiration and heart rate from red lining. During the Ocean State Marathon in Newport Rhode Island, a high school track coach used to stand on the side of Ocean Drive with its rolling hills and wind off the water and repeat his mantra to struggling runners: Keep it smooth!

When you keep it smooth, your breathing and heart rate calm. And you go on a sort of autopilot. Then the squirrels in your attic stop their chatter. You recognize random ideas and find that disparate ideas come together in interesting configurations and you gain insights. Some of my best ideas for work come to me during my bike commutes.

How people who drive to work get through the day without completely losing their minds is beyond me. Not only do they not get the benefit of the calming aspects of exercise but they expose themselves to tons of additional stress from traffic and the crap spewing out of the radio.

And they miss the sun shining through the trees or glistening off the river. They don’t hear the birds chattering. They don’t appreciate the smell of the steam coming off the asphalt after a rain or of the fresh mowed grass. They don’t see the goslings and duckings in spring. (Coming soon to my bike commute.)

They don’t see their friends riding past in the other direction (Chris, Shawn, Mike) or in yours (Kathy). Nor do they see the community of early morning trail users: Hoppy Runner, Golf Cart E-biker, Three-step Runner, Running Mom (now without the baby stroller because her son got too big), the Trash Walker, Cal, or the Overgrown Ewok.

I mean you don’t really think Katy Perry is more interesting than an overgrown Ewok, do you?

Well at Least I Didn’t Get Run Over

A few weeks ago I, and 3 co-workers, had tickets to see the Red Sox play the Nationals in an exhibition game at Nationals Park in DC. It was raining. I worked from home. I rode to the game. On the way I was hit by an SUV. A few minutes afterwards I learned the game had been cancelled. So I rode home.

Today we tried again. I rode to work in the rain. It rained all day. When I left the office, it was still raining. This game was a regular season game and it was likely to be played if at all possible. The forecast called for rain, 50F temperatures, and a wind from the east – directly at our seats which were exposed to the rain.

The bike valet at the ball park was empty when I got there. The two valets were channeling the Maytag repairman.

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I locked Little Nellie up and headed into the park. I drank a beer and looked down on the drenched playing field. Fewer things are as sad as a wet infield tarp under dreary skies.

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I made my way around the park, stopping for french fries. One advantage of being in an empty ball park is the fries are hot. Perfect. Next up was an Italian sausage (not half bad as these things go) and a second beer. I strolled around the ballpark chatting with the employees and emailing my co-workers. They had delayed their departure from the office. Then, in a fit of optimism, they drove to the game but didn’t leave the car. They stalked the ballpark like thieves casing a bank.

Fans started filling the concourses. Most of them seemed to have driven down from Baltimore. Apparent bus loads of kids included. I turned to one of the ushers and said, “It looks like we’re going to get this game in.” Then she said, “I don’t think so.” She pointed to the big screen overlooking center field.

Rainout

I rode home in the dark. It didn’t rain a drop.

The game is rescheduled for June 8.

Deets Turns Five as I Thank the Bike Gods

I was preparing to change into my riding clothes to head for home. My clothes and reading material go in one pannier, my shoes and my lock in the other. So I pick up my shoe pannier and immediately notice my lock is in the pannier.

Yep, I didn’t lock my bike this morning. I rolled it into the bike room at work, leaned it against a floor rack, and left. I have never done this before. Ever.

I went down to the bike room with a sense of dread. Deets, my Surly Cross Check, was my ride today. My newest bike. I swiped my access card and waited as the garage door rose. Slowly. So slowly.

And there it was. Right where I left it.

It would have sucked if someone had stolen it. They would have ridden it somewhere and they would have seen the odometer flip to 5,000 miles. The bike gods were kind to me today.

My Bike Commute Is Picture Perfect

One of my pet peeves is the fact that I recognize a good photo only after I have let the moment slip away. It’s like coming up with a good retort a day too late. Today on the way to work I had to stop to allow trail users to come through the narrow passage on the Mount Vernon Trail beneath the Memorial Bridge. For some reasons, I looked to my right and saw sunlight reflecting off the Potomac River. The Washington Monument was framed by the branches the tree to my immediate right along the river bank. Normally, I’d just turn back to the matter at hand and wait for the trail to clear. But today, I decided to pull out my phone and take a picture.

River and bridge

Yeah, my bike commute is that good.

Proud of my Bulldog

My daughter Lily graduated cum laude today from Butler University. I am so proud of her. She completely maxed out her undergraduate experience.

Lily majored in Sociology and International Studies with a minor in Religious Studies. She was an RA for two years and served in student government. During senior year she interned at the prosecutor’s office in Indianapolis. She did a senior survey project on LGBT issues. And during spring breaks she did community service projects.

Her entire junior year was spent abroad, fall semester at MacQuarie University in Sydney, Australia and spring semester at Sodertorn University outside Stockholm, Sweden. During her four years, she visited over 20 other countries.

I recall hearing college counselors saying “College is what you make of it.”

And how.

Rainy Day on the Prairie

It’s cold. It’s wet. It’s windy.

I am here in Indianapolis for my daughter’s college graduation. That’s tomorrow. For now I am hotel bound. We went to a movie theater last night with dinner service. Surprisingly the food wasn’t half bad. The movie was Guardians of the Galaxy 2. It was a CGI mashup of sarcasm, violence, and sci fi all set to a 70s soundtrack. Mindless entertainment for the mindless masses.

They have electric car share here. (Note the lovely weather.) My daughter says “nobody uses it.” Which is to say most people have their own cars.
I notice that despite the fact that it is flat here nobody bikes here. What’s up with that? They do have some pretty slick bike infrastructure here. There are some very cool separated bike lanes downtown and the Monon rail trail.

We are trying to figure out what to do here today that doesn’t involve standing in the cold rain. We’ve done most of the indoor stuff on prior visits.

Bury me not on the lone prairie.,,..

April in My Mirror

Well, I have released the hobgoblins of foolish cycling consistency. Instead of riding 660 miles as I did in January, February, and March, I upped my ramblings to 715 miles. 475 miles were covered going back and forth to work. What ever will I do when I retire!

I commuted 16 times, split evenly between Little Nellie, my Bike Friday, and Deets, my Cross Check. I actually broke Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, out of her winter slumber for some romps around the neighborhood. I keep thinking I should sell Big Nellie but then I have a great ride and I forget about doing such foolish things.

I did one bike event, Breaking the Cycle, on the last day of the month.

For the year I have racked up 61 bike commutes for 1,802 miles. My weekend and event rides added another 901 miles. So I am at 2,703 miles for the first four months of the year.

I also did two marches and two short hikes. No wonder my legs are tired. May promises to be a little less of a grind with many, many non-cycling events on my schedule.

Killing My Legs for a Good Cause or Two

What a busy weekend. Friday night I took Mrs. Rootchopper out for dinner to celebrate her retirement. It had been a long last week for her (she worked until 1 a.m. one night).

Climate March

On Saturday, I went to the Climate March alone. She and I had done the Science March (a small part of it, anyway) and the Women’s March. She had also done a march in support of immigration. She needed a break from marching. I rode to Union Station in DC where I met up with folks from WABA. WABA’s Nelle escorted a bunch of cyclists to our rendezvous point. Then we all walked over to take our place in line for the march. Several of our group held up a banner that Nelle had made. (Her creativity and energy astound me.) The march was preceded by much speechifying, none of which we could hear. So for a couple of hours we stood in the ironically blazing sun. At 1 p.m. or thereabouts we started to march. To my surprise we moved along pretty well.

Image may contain: 1 person, tree, sky, hat, outdoor and nature — Joe, Nelle, and Nick holding the banner

We walked down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the White House. At one point the marchers stopped and sat down and did some sort of woo woo chanting. The only chanting I would have done was to yell “Holy crap this pavement is hot!” I opted to hang out in the shade with Carrie (see below).

The organizers had wanted to surround the White House. When we got to 15th Street we were told that we could not march to the front of the White House to our right. Instead we were shunted off toward the Washington Monument to our left. By this point we were all pretty wiped out from the heat. We decided to call it a day.

I walked back to Union Station with Nick and Doug, two WABA employees. It was about 20 blocks. It was good that I had company because I would otherwise have paid attention to what a slog it was.

I recovered my bike from the bike valet, and rode home. My legs were toast. I had ridden about 135 miles during the work week. Adding the 33 miles of riding to and from the march, standing around on hot asphalt for hours, and walking several miles only made my dead legs deader.

Breaking the Cycle

So in the spirit of abject self abuse, I woke up early to do a 53 mile bike ride for charity. The event was called Breaking the Cycle and it was put on by The Dwelling Place, a nonprofit that “provides housing opportunities and support services in Montgomery County for families experiencing homelessness, helping them to achieve and maintain self-sufficiency.”

Breaking the Cycle was conceived in a typically Washington way. Carrie is on the Board of The Dwelling Place. She’s married to Greg who is the managing director of WABA. Like Garland and Rooney, they decided to put on a show. (I was a little upset that Carrie didn’t sing the Trolley Song.)

With dead legs and another unseasonably warm and muggy day, I decided to start as early as I could. I must have looked haggard because Carrie explained that there was a bail out option that would cut 13 miles off the ride. Good to know but being a cyclist of very little brain I had no intention of bailing.

The first 14 miles of the ride were in Rock Creek Park. We rode north until there was no more road then took a wooded trail further north to a lake. After that it was all suburban and country roads in Montgomery County, Maryland. I think the route was Greg’s idea. The cue sheet was five or six pages long. It rivaled the 50 States Ride for complexity. You pretty much could tell you were on the route because riders were pulled over to check their cue sheets every couple of miles.

The course was a little hilly but nothing that I couldn’t handle. It was shaped like a lollypop, a circle with a stick. The stick part was an out and back ride to Waredaca Brewery. It was early when we got there so there was no beer drinking to be done. After inhaling an apple and taking a picture for some riders, I reversed course. All went well until I discovered that one of the turns on the cue sheet was wrong. It said to go left when it meant right. So I added a mile to my endeavor. I didn’t see anyone else make this mistake. It was no big deal.

The final few miles were on a trail in Sligo Creek Park. I opted for the trail to stay in the shade but it would have been much faster to take the adjacent parkway. In any case, I arrived back at the start in semi-decent condition. Organizers of this race really know how to treat the riders. Finishers were given a metal beer glass (or maybe cup) and a coupon for a free beer at Denizens Brewery which happened to be the start and finish. I had the red ale. Then another. (It was moist and delicious.) And some soft pretzels. (They were moist and delicious too.)

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While at the bar I talked a bit with the chairman of The Dwelling Place. His name is Bond. James Bond. Didn’t look a thing like Sean Connery though.

And so the weekend ended. I am taking tomorrow off the bike to attend a dinner after work. My dead legs will thank me.

So my thanks to Nelle, Doug, Dan, and Nick on Saturday and Carrie and Greg on Sunday for making this a fun and worthwhile cycling weekend. These things don’t happen without a lot of work and thought. Cheers to you all.

Busy and Big

Back when it was cold out and I was feeling ready to jump out of my skin I scheduled a ton of stuff for late April and May. Last weekend, I did the Science march in DC. It was nerdy as hell and kind of fun for a gloomy day in the rain. Tomorrow I am riding to DC to participate in the Climate march with the folks from WABA. I plan on getting to Union Station at 9:30 so if you are in the area look for a guy in a blue Bike to Work Day t-shirt with a black bag on his back and a floppy hat on his head.

On Sunday, I am going to do a bike ride in Silver Spring, Maryland. The ride raises money for The Dwelling Place, a nonprofit that helps the homeless in Montgomery County MD. The ride (at least the one I am doing) is a little over 52 miles and involves a mid-ride pit stop at a craft brewery. There is another craft brewery at the finish.

I don’t often talk about family in this space, but today is different. Tonight, I am taking Mrs. Rootchopper out to dinner to celebrate her retirement today after over 30 years in Uncle Sam’s salt mines. Mrs. Rootchopper has an insane work ethic; she worked late into the night on Sunday and again last night. (I was asleep when she came home after 11 p.m.) She also worked her butt off over the last couple of weeks making a baby quilt for one of her staffers who is on the nest. I may have to sedate her. For a few weeks. Or months.