Today marked the 8th day of the federal government shut down. As much as not working is starting to get to me, seeing my 401K take a major hit from all this budget gridlock is really starting to piss me off. Time for a cold Yuengling.
This morning began with a quick trip to the drug store for asthma meds. I took The Mule. I like the little strip mall in Hollin Hall but I do wish they’d add some decent bike parking. Yet another reason why cycling in Fairfax County is a pain.
After watching the HVAC folks put a new humidifier on my furnace, I took Big Nellie out for a Coffeeneuring run to Buzz at the north end of Old Town Alexandria. The riding was slow as my leg muscles are still a little sore from this weekend’s riding. I had a medium house blend and a cinnamon muffin. The coffee was nothing to write home about but it carried a caffeine wallop. The cinnamon bun looked far better than it tasted. It was surprisingly chewy and flavorless.
Getting my Buzz on.
In anticipation of picking up the Millennium Falcon (our Mitsubishi Lancer) from the body shop, I headed home. The tailwind was nice. The flat rear tire wasn’t. I put a Panaracer Pasella tire on a month or so ago. It is supposed to have a Kevlar belt in it. They must have skipped that step because a small piece of glass cut right through the tire. Re-installing a tire on the Tour Easy is something of a struggle. As I was getting the chain onto the cassette, the bike flopped over breaking the mirror in the process. Then I learned that the neoprene grommet that holds the head of my pump onto the tire valve stem was not gripping the valve properly. And the rear brake was rubbing. If I had a gun, I’d have shot the damn thing right then and there!
Lacking firearms, I rode to Wheel Nuts bike shop about a half mile away and used their floor pump and bought a new mirror. I rode to City Hall and decided to prop the bike up on the low wall of a planter and work on my rubbing brake. After 15 minutes I got the tire rotating freely, but now the brakes squeal.
The tailwind helped make the ride home quite pleasant. When I got there I learned that the car would not be ready until tomorrow. Something tells me this is just not my day. To reward myself for the little frustrations of the day, I did some online shopping, including ordering replacement parts for my pump.
Shopping is almost as therapeutic as drinking a cold beer or going for a bike ride. I’ve already done the latter so I do believe I’ll do the former now.
Ahhhh. Hits the spot.
Coffeeneuring No. 3: Buzz in Alexandria
Drink: House roast. Not the best but it gave me a buzz
Eats: Cinnamon bun. Meh
Miles:17.5 (not counting the 2.5 ride to the drug store)
Observations: You can have a tire that gives a nice ride or a tire that won’t easily puncture but you can’t have both. Skar was right. Life’s not fair.
A recent comment to the blog from South Lakes Mom asked me if I was attending the Fairfax County Bicycling Summit at George Mason University (GMU) on November 4. I don’t plan on going since the focus of the summit is improving cycling in and around Tysons Corner, 23 miles from my house by bike. I have been in or through Tysons Corner about 10 times in the last 30 years. (Most of my visits were to a VW dealer to get my Golf repaired because the repairmen at the dealer near my home were incompetent.) Whether in a car or on a bike, I avoid it like the plague. I commend the County and the Fairfax Advocates for Better Bicycling (FABB) for trying to improve life in Tysons. No matter what they accomplish it will have no practical relevance to me.
The apparent reason for holding the summit at GMU is that it has lots of meeting facilities and it is centrally located in the county. It is also 25 very cycling unfriendly miles from my house. Go ahead, try and ride cross county from Mount Vernon to Springfield or beyond. I advise that you notify your next of kin before heading out.
But let me stop kvetching and add some suggestions, in no particular order, for better everyday cycling in my part of Fairfax County. Before I begin, let’s set a basic ground rule. I am talking about everyday cycling. Riding a bike to the store, the library, the farmers market, the pool, or the office. I am not talking about the Tour de Fairfax. The objective is to make cycling to these places as safe and convenient as driving. Here’s my list. It goes to eleven.
Put a flyover bridge or a traffic light at the intersection of the George Washington Memorial Parkway and Belle View Boulevard. This is a primary connecting point to the Mount Vernon Trail and the intersection has one of the highest rates of vehicular accidents in the DC region. The Parkway is owned by the National Park Service which is more concerned with esthetics than safety.
Allow bike commuters to park in Belle Haven Park (and other National Park Service lots) along the Mount Vernon Trail. Bike commuters currently run the risk of being ticketed so instead they park on the opposite side of the Parkway and have to make a crossing at grade at rush hour. These parking lots are empty during the week. The Park Service could auction off slots for half the spaces and use the funds for improvements to the trail or parks. All that is needed is a “Yes”.
There is no viable, route connecting Mount Vernon to the Lee District from the Beltway to south of Fort Belvoir. The only way I know of involves riding over Beacon Hill which is reasonable only to Claudio Chiappucci and Fausto Coppi (and Coppi is dead). There is a right of way through the northern edge of Huntley Meadows Park that would make a wonderful, flat trail connecting US 1 to Telegraph Road. Since the county is now plowing up the edge of Huntley Meadows Park near the western terminus of this right of way so that motor vehicles can travel more conveniently, how about showing cyclists a little love. Oh, and to make my case, let’s take the responsible Fairfax and VDOT officials for a ride on the current, on-road route, South Kings Highway, a hilly, high-speed, two lane, shoulderless monstrosity. After their funerals maybe we could get some traction on this idea.
Other than the Mount Vernon Trail there are very few north south bicycle routes in southeastern Fairfax County. This is a shame because the Hybla Valley area is the lowest income area of the county and cycling is the cheapest form of transportation for distances over one mile. Start by thinking of ways to build trails with switchbacks to get over Beacon Hill from all directions.
Speaking of the Mount Vernon Trail, how about a little plowing and sanding during the winter months? When left unpaved, the trail becomes a long series of icy foot prints that make the trail unusable to everyone.
Connect the US 1 connector trail to something. ANYTHING. This trail connects the Mount Vernon Trail to US 1. Then you are on your own. Was it designed by Sarah Palin?
Fix the sensors embedded in the road at the traffic light at the Belle Haven Country Club so that users of the trail can get onto Fort Hunt Road without having to run the red light.
How about some shoulders on the roads! And while you’re at it PAVE them! VDOT seems to think that shoulders are bad road design. Sometimes (e.g. Fort Hunt Road) the shoulder appears then disappears. When there is a shoulder it is sometimes paved and sometimes not.
Elected officials should be required to get to their offices by bike once per week. Pretty awful, right. Then have them ride to Old Town Alexandria on the Mount Vernon Trail. See the difference? There shouldn’t be one!
A general note about bike trails: sidewalks are not bike trails. Slapping asphalt over unimproved soil makes for a lousy sidewalk and a lousier bike trail. Don’t try to impress the cycling community with the many miles of slapdash “trails” built in this fashion in the last 20 years. They are worse than worthless; they are dangerous. Stop building them.
The recent addition of bike trail along Fort Hunt Road near the Belle Haven Elementary school is well intentioned and a big improvement over the slapdash trail it replaced. It will get very little use by everyday cyclists because it is too steep and narrow and has too many curves. If you have to ask why, imagine designing a road for your car that mimics these design features. You wouldn’t drive it. If you think it costs too much to build a better alternative, you have two possible results. Either nobody will use it and you’ve wasted your money. Or, you can build it right a second time after the county gets sued by somebody who loses it on the steep, curvy descent.
If you can sense the tone of impatience in my words, you can see why I have little tolerance of the advocacy process. These changes should patently obvious. Many of them have been suggested and ignored by our elected officials for decades. So lets start with one or two. Can we agree to do that? Then do a couple more next year.
Something odd is happening. For the last two months, despite riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, almost every day, I haven’t been able to get the bike moving satisfactorily. Every ride has been a frustrating struggle. Yesterday that changed. Riding my recumbent was effortless. After 51 miles I wanted to ride a lot more.
So, today I did. And the riding was even better. With temps in the high 80s, you cannot complain about the weather. It took me a while to get started though. I spent the first half hour of my ride doing maintenance on The Mule, my 20-year-old Specialized Sequoia. I put a 700×35 tire on the front to match the width of my new back tire. Then I took it for a quick test ride. The Mule likes wider tires. No doubt about it. My test ride did surface a problem: really squeaky rear brakes. So I fiddled with them for a few minutes.
Once General Bike Hospital was over with, Big Nellie and I hit the road. We cruised through some neighborhood streets before hooking up with the Mount Vernon Trail near the stone bridge. I had a noticeable tailwind so I knew that the easy of riding was not all my doing.
In about an hour, I pulled into Saint Elmo’s Coffee Pub in Del Ray for my second Coffeeneuring stop. The coffee was much better than yesterday’s and the blueberry and banana muffin was moist and tasty. I brought a book with me so I could linger over my brew.
I was still hungry so I dropped into the Dairy Godmother, an ice cream store two doors down from St. Elmo’s. I had one of their root beer floats. Ahhhh. Perfection!
Root beer floats should be allowed in the Coffeeneuring Challenge. Root beer is brewed, right?
Now that my diet had been shot to hell, I hit the road in earnest. In about two miles I was heading west on the Four Mile Run trail heading for the W&OD trail. I took that to the Custis trail and headed back toward DC along I 66. Just I was getting my kicks, I turned off the trail and worked my way through hilly North Arlington. My destination was Glebe Road which drops like a ski slope down to the Potomac River. Big Nellie loves street luge. Weeee!!!!
Once down the hill I headed northwest on the C&O Canal towpath. Big Nellie’s long wheel base does a wonderful job of absorbing the bumps which are pretty much continuous. I was bombing along at 15 miles per hour passing mountain bikers who must have been wondering how such a strange bike could handle the rough trail.
At Great Falls Park I turned off the trail and rode up a long, long hill. Unlike my experience at the Backroads Century the hills didn’t much bother me. At the top of the hill I mashed on the pedals. I could hear the rear tire digging into the pavement. Down the other side we went. I love doing downhills on my bent. It would have been epic had a car with a kayak on its roof not pulled out in front of me from a parking lot at the bottom of the luge run.
The ride back along MacArthur Boulevard was into the wind, but I didn’t much notice. I was cruising along at 15 miles per hour – about three miles per hour above my commuting speed – with very little effort. I turned off MacArthur and rode Reservoir Road and some alphabet streets across Georgetown. The streets were rather quiet so I rode down 17th Street straight to the Tidal Basin. I caught a bunch of lights and zipped across the Kutz Bridge, normally a nail biter of ride.
I was across the 14th Street bridge in no time and headed into the wind on the MVT going 17 miles per hour. The sun was setting and it seemed to be doing so rather quickly. I was wearing sunglasses so I knew I’d have to stop soon to switch to my regular glasses. I was having such a blast riding that I didn’t stop until Old Town Alexandria 3 1/2 miles later. There I put my light on my helmet and activated my red blinky lights.
The helmet light did a fine job of illuminating all the bike riders without lights heading my way on the dark section of the MVT south of Old Town. The light also helped give me some early warning about the clouds of gnats hanging intermittently over the trail.
I arrived home in the dark after 64 miles. Unlike yesterday, I actually felt somewhat tired. I definitely could have ridden more though.
I really think it’s unfair for my cycling fitness to peak just as the cold weather comes around. If the furlough continues, maybe I should just ride to Cuba. I’ll bet Raul could use a cycling economist. He might even find me essential.
Saturday marked the start of the Coffeeneuring Challenge, sponsored by Mary Queen of Caffeine. If you do a bunch of weekend bike rides to coffee places and follow a shedload of annoying rules, she dubs you a Knight of Espresso and gives you a pin. I can’t resist a gimmick so I headed out in search of my fix.
I hopped on Big Nellie and headed for the big city where the coffee is strong, the women are virtuous, and the men are above average (in their own minds). My journey took me along the Mount Vernon Trail for the four billionth time. Good thing it’s pretty cuz a guy could get sick of riding it over and over. I was cruising along at a surprisingly fast clip so I checked the tree tops for evidence of a tail wind. There was none to be seen. I gots legs!
As I entered Old Town, I came upon a couple of volunteers staffing a rest stop for the Ragnar run. This is a 24-hour relay that goes something like 180 miles. Too bad I can’t run anymore because this would be right up my alley. Through Old Town I rode eventually reconnecting with the MVT and heading ever north.
I turned off into Crystal City to check out the new painted bike lane on Crystal Drive. It looks marvelous. With the new bike lane and the renovated Clark Street (now renamed Long Bridge Drive), there is now a decent alternative to the MVT all the way to DC. Near the Pentagon I came upon some serious road work. They were cutting into the pavement down to the foundation of the roadway. No road riding here so I took to the sidewalk and the grass.
As I was taking pictures my camera ran out of batteries. The nearest drug store was in Rosslyn across the street from my office so I headed there, past Arlington Cemetery. Visitors were being allowed in to pay their respects which is pretty nice of the government seeing as how nearly everything else in town was shut down thanks to our profoundly stupid elected officials.
After procuring said batteries (he says in bureaucratspeak), I was off to Georgetown across the Key Bridge. M Street was bustling as usual but I managed to weave through the sea of SUVs and survive the ordeal. I felt a bit like a mongoose running through a herd of elephants. Don’t step on me!!!
I picked up the L Street Cycletrack and made fast work of it. I wanted to do a Perfect (a complete ride across town without catching a light), but my timing was off. I was treated to some shoaling by an annoying guy on a hybrid bike. He cut in front of me at two lights. Big Nellie was offended. We stepped on the figurative gas and left the guy in our bent wake.
My destination for java was Eastern Market where I dismounted for a house brew and a chocolate chip scone. The brew was mediocre but the scone was not half bad. After my snack, I walked through the outdoor marketplace making a mental note of possible Christmas presents as I walked. I decided to go for a cruise along the Anacostia River.
Finding the trail on the west side of the river was frustrated by construction going on near the 11th Street Bridge. I used my 50-States-Ride knowledge of an obscure alleyway to ride to the Sousa Bridge. On the far side of the river I found the trail alongside the closed roadway. The parkland was empty but for a couple of cyclists and an old man sitting under a gazebo.
At Benning Road I crossed back to the west side of the river and took the trail back toward 11th Street past the hulk of RFK Stadium.
Once back in southeast DC I picked up M Street. I was spinning along effortlessly and having a great time. A taxi cab tried to pancake against a line of parked cars but even that couldn’t ruin my mood.
I decided to ride down to Hains Point which has also been closed thanks to the brilliant minds in our government. Instead of riding the road, I rode along the sidewalk on top of the retaining wall next to the river. The sidewalk is a decrepit mess. Nobody wants to pony up the money to fix our national parks. I have an idea. Why don’t we set up ticket booths on the national mall. Sell passes to the Smithsonian museums and National Parks. Ten dollars a day per person. Five for kids and seniors. Maybe sell week and annual passes too. Take the money and fix it all up. This would have the added benefit of keeping down the visits from your annoying relatives who found out they can have a free vacation by staying in your guest room and going down to the mall for a week.
Now that we’ve solved some serious problems, we return to the ride.
As I rolled along the sidewalk, I watched the planes from National Airport taking off. They seemed to take an awfully long time getting airborne. The sidewalk in front of me dipped down with a fence on the river side to my left and a retaining wall to my right. I could see some mud at the base of the ramp. I got not more than 20 feet into the mud when Big Nellie’s front wheel slid out from under me and down I went. It was like falling on snow except the mud was much slicker and slightly warm. When we stopped sliding I went to stand and I couldn’t. The mud was a quarter to a half inch deep. I couldn’t get my footing. After a good laugh, I managed to plant on hand and a knee in the mud and carelfully extract myself from the quagmire.
Other than a tear in the underside of the fabric cover of my bike seat, Big Nellie and I were unharmed.
We rode out of DC on the 14th Street Bridge and bombed down the Mount Vernon Trail at great speed. My speedometer read “Lickety Split” so I know we were going fast. Gravelly Point park was practically empty thanks to the closed parking lot. Just past the park, I passed a couple of bike tourists who were finishing their ride from Pittsburgh to DC. They reminded me that my friend Lisa is starting the same trip today. Have a blast, Lisa.
I rode along Union Street in Old Town and spotted a bride with her groomsmen on the sidewalk. Did they ditch the bridesmaids?
The rest of the ride home was effortless. I can’t remember a time when riding 50 miles seemed so easy that I felt like doing it again right away. As a matter of fact, I think I just might.
The alarm went off. I stayed in bed still tired from yesterday’s climbfest. I missed Friday Coffee Club and from the sound of it I may be the only bike rider in town who did.
I spent the morning like an old retiree: read the paper, watched some telly, did a little laundry. Then my body said, “Get outta here.” So Big Nellie and I did.
It’s eerie riding around here during the furlough, a bit reminiscent of the days after 9-11.
I watched a Park Service officer give a ticket to a driver who had parked at Belle Haven Park which is officially closed. Better to have people park across the Parkway and walk through high speed traffic, right. I think the Park Service should stand down and leave people alone. Put up signs that say Park Closed – Use at Your Own Risk instead.
I rode up to the 14th Street bridge past an empty parking lot at Gravelly Point. I am sure that blocking off the lot will solve a lot of problems. Somehow.
Near the DC end of the 14th Street bridge I encountered about 10 people riding Bikeshare bikes heading my way. They didn’t seem to get the idea that you ride on the right. Maybe they were Brits. Maybe they were clueless. Fortunately they moved to the right before crashing into me.
I rode over to East Potomac Park to check out Hains Point. The road was barricaded but the sidewalks weren’t. There seems to be uneven enforcement of the closure of things. I think the Park Service should close everything including the GW Memorial Parkway and Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway. This will piss off the Republicans in McLean and the Democrats in Bethesda, not just the tourists and bike commuters. Share the love, NPS!
I headed for home past the Pentagon which has a suspicious number of cars in the parking lot. Lots of essential people here. Didn’t the evil doers get the memo about the government shutdown?
I stopped at Long Bridge Park to use the facilities. They are clean and open. Thanks, Arlington County.
In Crystal City I watched some workers painting a brand spanking new bike lane green. This is the finishing touch to making Crystal Drive a two way street. Now cyclists can ride directly from Long Bridge Park to the trail that connects with the Mount Vernon Trail. Why this took over decade to do is beyond me, but thanks again, Arlington County. By the way, Crystal City no longer is for mole people. There is actually a bona fide street scene with storefronts and pedestrians.
I rode back through the new city in Potomac Yards. A guy in a sports car buzzed by me in my lane. He was in a hurry to catch the next red light. Dude, it’s not a race.
At the south end of Old Town, I was riding along Washington Street when a car came up behind me and started beeping. I was in a good mood so I kept my middle finger on the handlebars. A few minutes later I was at a right angle to Washington at a stop light when the car came by. It was a little old lady who was barely tall enough to see over the steering wheel on which she had a death grip. I hope I have enough common sense to know when my driving days are over. (My daughter would say they already are! Yes, she’s the one who accounted for scraping up both sides of her mother’s car in the last 18 months.)
I arrived home to a celebratory Dove Bar – it was pretty hot out. After that, I conducted a silent funeral for an old friend. In 1991 B. K. (before kids) I rode Bike Virginia where I picked up a bike hat. I’ve been wearing it off and on ever since. It’s falling apart and appallingly scuzzy so I gave it the heave ho. Adios, amigo.
On the third day of Furloughmas my bicycle gave to me, a ride in Virginia Hunt Country.
I spent my first two days of being unemployed getting caught up on non-biking things. Today I decided to go for a ride. I pulled out my ancient copy of the Washington Area Bicycling Atlas and found a challenging 55-mile ride that I did about 10 years ago. The ride was a big oval running east then south then west then north then east back to the start in the town of Marshall in wine and hunt country.
My recollection from the last time I did this ride is that there is nasty hill at about 30 miles. Much of the ride was on windy two lane country lanes. When I wasn’t gawking at the pretty farms, I was taking in the Blue Ridge Mountains looming in the back ground. I could have taken pictures all day but put my camera away after a shot of the road ahead. You wanna see pretty go ride out yonder.
I chose The Mule, my old Specialized Sequoia, for the ride. After missing my first turn, I got back on course and headed for the country. After riding about 10 miles with a couple of respectable hills included, I rode through the crossroads town of Waterloo. The next ten miles headed west toward the Blue RIdge. I stopped for lunch at a store in Orlean, another crossroads town. I had a bologna sandwich because I haven’t seen a bologna sandwich on a menu in decades. Bologna is regarded as bad food. You don’t want to know what it is made of. It also happens to be pretty awesomely tasty. I also ate a bag of Route 11 tater chips. I washed it all down with an Arnold Palmer. I somehow managed to survive the feast.
View from the hip
Back on the bike, I continued west through the town of Hume. My brain said that the serious climb was only a couple of miles ahead but I recollected the terrain incorrectly. There were hills but none of them were all that steep. After the course turned to the north, my memory was abruptly refreshed. The road rose and rose past the Naked Mountain Winery and rose some more. I was in my granniest gear but the “hill” was winning. I reached the top, stopped, bent over the handlebars and huffed and puffed for 30 seconds or more. Then I got back on the bike, turned the corner, and discovered that there was still more climbing to be done. Fail. If only I had eaten free range salmon on gluten free flaxseed bread and washed it down with acai berry juice. Of course, then I would have puked my guts out, thereby lightening my load and making it up the mountain robustly (but with fierce dragon breath).
I made it to the top and set in for the 39 mile per hour ride down the other side. I’d have gone faster but for the crappy chip seal road surface. After bouncing around and holding on for dear life, I managed to make it to route 17 where the pavement was smooth and the cars were fast. The shoulder was plenty wide (a rarity in Virginia) and I buzzed along to route 50. This was also a smooth highway but with precious little in the way of a shoulder. The cars passing me gave me lots of room though, including a right hand drive Mini.
The last ten miles involved a bit more climbing (they apparently don’t call one of the towns Upperville for nothing) but after the ride up Naked Mountain I couldn’t complain much.
At the finish, I was, well, finished. Pooped. The ride was just long enough to get me to forget about the mess in DC.
I highly recommend this ride if you like to look at immense estates with horseys and cows. And the Blue RIdge. And dozens of vultures gorging on road kill (not me thankfully).
I suppose you could stop at the dozen or so vineyards I rode past. I seriously doubt you’d make it up Naked Mountain with a belly full of wine. Then, again, I am pretty sure you wouldn’t much care.
I have been furloughed, sucked into the maw of the federal budget beast. So I spent a few hours on Big Nellie riding to Elevation Burger (meh) at National Harbor, then to the HVAC place in Old Town, then to Mount Vernon. I fell in behind these two folks (the woman is Megan, the man I dunno). They climbed the hill to Mount Vernon like they had nothing on their bikes. Very impressive. They are riding from Lake Placid NY to Florida. Once there they are heading west for California. Megan said they are raising money for a charity but I didn’t get the details. (I’ll post them if I do.) If you see a bike tourist passing through DC, say hi. Buy them lunch. Let them camp in your yard.
Despite a trip out of town and lots of car-related disruptions, I did a pretty decent amount of riding in September. For the most part, the weather cooperated. I rode 858 miles for the month. I did four metric centuries: the Southern Maryland Century, the 50 States Ride, the Backroads Century, and a ride to Dulles with the Randos. With a few other rides on the weekends, my non-commuting riding totaled 309 miles. The other 549 miles came from 19 commutes, 16 on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. I haven’t driven my car to work now in about 3 1/2 months.
The Tour Easy did the bulk of the lifting this month, 609 miles. The Mule, my 20-year-old Specialized Sequoia, racked up 213. Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, contributed but 36 miles.
During the 50 States Ride, probably around the time of the monsoon, I crossed the 5,000 mile mark for the year. I now stand at 5,299 miles with 138 bike commutes.
Today, I was furloughed and didn’t ride to work. I spent the entire day running mostly car-related errands. I hope to get out on the bike tomorrow.
Mike is a randonneur, a cyclist who rides appalling long distances on cans of Coke. Mike is loquacious. Mike is to talk as a hungry fat man is to chips and queso. Mike also likes airplanes, the bigger the better. And for some reason, Mike is hell bent on cycling me to death.
Mike invited me to join him and some other cyclists of the randoneuring persuasion for a ride out to the Air and Space museum at Dulles airport.
The weather was perfect: 70 degrees, light winds, puffy white clouds on a background of blue, blue sky. Mike and his wife Lisa left their home in Tacoma Park in DC (pretty much at the northernmost corner of the city). They were riding a DaVinci tandem. This particular tandem has an interesting feature: the stoker (rider in the back) pedals completely independently of the captain (the rider doing the steering in the front). Ed and Mary were riding their gray Co-Motion tandem with synchronized pedalling. Lane was riding a single bike, blue and of indeterminant ethnicity and vintage. It had a little plastic spaceman zip tied to one of its seat stays and a little plastic rocket facing aft, zip tied to the rear fender. He’s either a Bill Lee fan or works in the aerospace industry.
Now one thing I should mention about these five folks is that they ride everywhere and NEVER get tired! Mike knows every back road from Charlottes to Canajoharie. They also ride fast even when they aren’t trying.
Since I am not similarly indefatigable and expeditious, I left my house in Mount Vernon VA about 30 minutes before they headed out. I spent the first hour or so dodging runners on the Mount Vernon trail. They were out in great abundance because the weather was perfect for running and their fall marathons are only a few weeks away. After a while I started thinking of them as moving bollards.
At National Airport I hung a left and followed Four Mile Run to Shirlington where I picked up the W&OD trail. I had planned to meet the randos at the intersection of the Custis trail and the W&OD in eastern Arlington County. The randos had stopped for coffee in Arlington. Caffeine is to randos as the blood of virgins is to vampires.
In short order they appeared and stopped to allow Lisa the first of her 453 wardrobe changes. Leg warmers, arm warmers, long fingered gloves, and jacket went on and off throughout the day, more often than not while we were moving.
Once we were underway I could tell we’d be riding fast, because my speedometer had 17, then 18, then 19 displayed. These are numbers that I, the 12-mile-per-hour commuter, makes rare use of. Not that I was having trouble keeping up. The Mule was cruising along and I was not breathing hard at all. It probably didn’t hurt that I was often in the slipstream of a tandem or two.
Up the W&OD we went to Vienna VA where we stopped at Cafe Amore for rando blood. I was disappointed that Dean Martin was not singing “When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, “ when we rolled in. After a wardrobe change, we were back on the bikes. After about five miles of trail, Mike took us off the trail and onto the roads of Reston. The first quarter mile was a bit of a shock, being that we had to climb a rather steep hill, but the remainder of the ride through McMansion heaven was on rolling roads with little traffic. Here I learned that you don’t want to be in front of a tandem on the crest of a hill. They go downhill like Big Nellie with a fairing. Voom.
After a few wrong turns (Mike knows the roads but sometimes doesn’t speak their language), we found ourselves blasting down narrow bike paths between neighborhoods. How Mile knew about these trails of certain death is beyond me. We managed to survive and inexplicably popped out a couple of miles east of the museum where we stopped at a strip mall for food and blood.
I tried a Slim Jim type food-type product. I don’t think it is coincidental that the diameter of said Slim Jim is about the same as the diameter of my carotid artery – at least before I ate it that is.
While we were dining on the sidewalk of strip mall, we heard a roar. We had thought we were too late for the arrival of the enormous new Airbus Stratohippo, a two decker jumbo jet. Alas, by the time we spotted it, it had already flown behind some trees. All we could see was it’s tail fin passing by above the tree tops like a shark fin in the water. I could almost hear the cello from Jaws as it went by.
A few minutes later we were parking our bikes for free next to the museum. It costs $15 to park a car there but the museum is free, so biking is the way to go. Lisa watched the bikes as we took ten minutes (which is how randos say “half an hour”) in the museum. There are planes and spacecraft galore in this place. The big ones are a Concorde SST, a retired space shuttle, and a big, sleek, stealthy, black Blackhawk spy plane. There are scores of others parked and hanging from the rafters willy nilly throughout the place.
Mike and the Blackhawk
After getting our fix of aerospace and aviation stuff, we mounted our bikes for the ride back. The first five miles were another Mikeroads fest. I swear the locals don’t know these roads like Mike does.) If not for the sun casting an easterly shadow in front of me, I would not have had a clue as to what direction we were riding. We eventually rejoined the W&OD and headed for Reston Town Center. There most of us bought gelatto, but Ed went for espresso. He will henceforth be known as Vlad the Imbiber.
Back on the trail we headed east. I started to lag, no doubt the result of toxic gelatto. The others were riding at 20 miles per hour while Lisa made origami bicycles on the back of the DaVinci. I noticed that several times during the ride, she would sit up, stop pedalling and adjust her hair. The tandem never slowed as Mike compensated with more pedal power. Sheesh.
Every so often, Ed and Mary would let free the reins and the Co-Motion would zoom ahead like one of the cruise missiles at the museum.
The four randos kindly let me catch up east of Vienna. In Falls Church they left the trail for the streets. I stayed on the W&OD and made my way through a charity 3K fun run. Once in to Arlington the two-legged bollards dissipated so that I could enjoy the gradual downhill all the way to US 1 near the river. I doubled back at US 1 and rode through the streets of Alexandria to avoid riding on the Mount Vernon Trail for a few miles. I rejoined the trail south of Old Town and found my butt to be rather sore. The discomfort was soon forgotten when I noticed that I was going 0 miles per hour. Somehow the motion sensor on my bike computer had gone kaput. Argh!
Aside from that little technical glitch, I was pretty darn happy with the day’s events. A good 76-mile ride in good weather with good folks to a good museum is always a good thing. Thanks to Mike for thinking this ride up and to the rest of the randos for humoring me and The Mule.
After Saturday’s grueling (but fun) 50 States Ride, I woke up at 5 a. m., just rarin’ to go. Not. My legs felt like lead but I managed to get myself downstairs and planted my face in a bowl of Cheerios. Feeling my oats, I plunked Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, on the bike rack on the back of my car and headed off to DC.
The plan was to do the Backroads Metric Century in the northern Shenandoah Valley with Kristen. I volunteered to pick up Kristen’s friend Elizabeth (@ymax) in DC on my way to Berryville. I arrived at her place at 6 on the dot.
The drive took about 90 minutes, including a good 10 minutes waiting in the long line to park. We were somewhat concerned that it would be hard to find Kristen who had already transported Elizabeth’s bike. Just before pulling into our parking space we spotted Kristen and her husband standing a few feet away. We took this to be a good omen.
We lingered for just a moment at the start. A recumbent trike rider offered to sell me a lightly used fairing for Big Nellie. I just might take him up on the offer.
And we’re off, me on a recumbent, Kristen on her hybrid, and Elizabeth on her carbon fiber road bike. In addition to having a rocket ship for a bike, Elizabeth is the perfect body type for hilly cycling: thin, fit, and small. Once she warmed up, she was gone!
Kristin, as it turns out, is a mom on a mission and a hill climbing machine. Her technique is to ride down hills in a tuck and then power up the next rise. I spun my ass off on Big Nellie but there was no power at all in my legs. This was going to be a long day.
We rode more or less together for the first leg of our journey, through farmers’ fields with views of the fog rising from the crops with the Blue Ridge to the east. The first rest stop was at an old mill. It was a food fest. The highlight was the baked potatoes with salt and butter. There was also a trio of musicians including banjo and harp for our musical enjoyment. As much as we wanted to stay, we had play to do.
On the road to the next stop, I found myself lagging behind my posse. Along comes Jeff who I saw at the start of the 50 States. Jeff has a talent for sneaking up on me. He once spotted me in a crowd in the rain on Bike DC. Jeff crashed on the 50 States Ride and hurt his right arm which he said was quite painful. Even one armed, Jeff can bury me on a bike. He was gone in short order.
Up, up, up. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Into a headwind.
The next rest stop came at the top of a hill at around 11 a.m.. We had expected to see Kristen’s husband and kids, but he was out boozing again. Just kidding. There was a little interspousal miscommunication.
After a few minutes we were spinning back down the way we came with the wind at our backs. Fields of hay and corn and soy, cows and sheep and alpacas and horses, stone walls and white fences. Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River.
The course is entirely on backroads. Duh. We crossed a couple of busy highways but never rode along them. I learned after the ride that there is about 10 percent more climbing on this ride than on the 50 States. It felt like it.
Many miles and hills later we came to our next stop at the town of White Post, so cleverly named after the white post at the center of town where two roads meet. (It would suck if they replaced the post with a big trash can.) While munching some tomato and mayo sammiches, Kristen spotted an amazing sight. About a month ago on the 2013 Hoppy 100 ride, our band of merry beer hounds helped a guy get medical help after he crashed his bike in the rain on a bridge in DC. He was a bloody mess and was clearly going into shock. So it was pleasant surprise to see him in one piece out on his first bike ride since the crash. Except from a couple of gnarly looking fingernails, he looked quite well. While talking to him, Mike, a regular at Friday Coffee Club appeared. Mike was doing the full century so he was soon off on a mileage quest of his own.
After chatting we headed out under threatening skies. Thankfully, the rain stayed away but we rode the next ten miles under cloudy skies. More hills made my legs achy, but spin we must. I could feel my quadriceps spasming from time to time. How it would suck if they seized up, but, at the last rest stop after eating some mango gelato, it was Kristen who started having leg cramps. Fortunately they went away with some stretching.
As we were leaving somebody said that there was a 16 percent incline in the last few miles. I couldn’t recall one and I was right. The last big hill was 6 percent and plenty long but nothing we couldn’t handle. A few times on this ride we rode passed roadies in Lycra doing the walk of shame, waddling up the steep hills in their cleated bike shoes. The three of us are proud to report that we rode every single blessed uphill without dismounting.
At the finish there was food and hugs all around. Despite the dead legs, I had a great time.
50 States Postscript: When I got home, I changed the flat on The Mule. The tire must have had 20 small cuts in the casing. Time for a fresh tire. I could use some fresh legs too.
Thanks to Kristen for getting me to sign up. It was great to ride with Elizabeth too. You may see her around these parts on a bike. She’ll be that little black dot receding into the distance in front of you.
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 