The Cycling Underground

No this has nothing to WWII. It’s winter. The National Park Service refuses to plow the Mount Vernon Trail making biking to work virtually impossible. It’s also incredibly cold and windy outside. And I am still recovering from food poisoning. Are those enough excuses?

I moved Big Nellie, my recumbent, into the basement the other day and put her on a resistance trainer. It attaches to the big back wheel. You then ride it like you would outdoors. Except for the important fact that you don’t go anywhere or see anything.

I used to do this a lot before I joined the Order of the Holey Sweater. Now I do it only when I would lose my mind without exercise. If I want, I can use this mutant exercise device to become a workout monster. I can shed buckets of sweat on the damn thing.

I used to do that. Now I read and pedal. Over the years, I have found that I read much faster and become more absorbed in whatever I am reading when I am riding. It’s also oddly meditative. I completely forget about the world. It’s just me, the book, and the endless hum of the chain. Hmmmm.

For people who are not used to it, this can be torture. In fact, I’ve been thinking of a second career as an enhanced interrogator. I could put some Doris Day movies on a TV in front of the bike. I’d break the most badass terrorist in 30 minutes. “Please, sir, I’ll tell you anything you want, but not another minute on that godforsaken bicycle.”

Hurry spring. I’m losing it.

On the Mend

I spent the better part of the last 34 hours either asleep or lying around moaning. I’ve been on my back so much I’ve had to change venues. First, a recliner, then a couch, then my bed, then another couch. My back actually hurts from lying down so much. This concerns me because my back has been in exceptionally fine fettle for over a month.

I had planned to go outside to shovel the snow but Mrs. Roorchopper took one look at me and said, “Fuggitaboudit.” So I did. Zzzzzzz.

About 9 a.m. I ate an English muffin. It tasted sooo good. I hadn’t eaten any food in my system in over 2 days. Then I drank ginger ale. Then water. Then Gatorade. I did a bit of work and fell asleep on the couch for 30 minutes.

At lunch time I has some Jewish penicillin and, throwing caution to the wind, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I am happy to report that it has not re-appeared in four hours. Will wonders never cease?

I still feel slightly light headed. Probably because of dehydration. I sure hope that my self diagnosis of food poisoning is correct because I would hate to give this to anybody.

Nap time.

Godzilla Sleeps

Last night Mrs. Rootchopper and I went to the movies (Kinsgman: The Secret Service. Save your money unless you like faux Tarentino and/or Colin Firth.) After the movie we went out to dinner. I had fish tacos. They seemed fine.

This morning they weren’t. After staggering around the house (it’s a federal holiday), trying to eat a little breakfast, and feeling unwell, I did my best Godzilla breathing fire imitation. Yes, I called Ralph on the porcelain phone. I made an offering to the porcelain god.

When it was over I felt awful. So I went back to sleep. Or tried to. An hour later I was ingesting over the counter drugs like there was no tomorrow. (And there is no physical therapy tomorrow because I canceled it.)

At 2:40 pm I woke up. I feel better now. Not quite to James Brown but really how’s he doing these days. Snow was just starting to fall. I went outside to retrieve Big Nellie for indoor use. I put it on a trainer in the basement. Not a lot of fun but it is a bit better than nothing at all. Next I postitioned my Wover next to the front door. It’s a warning to the snow gods that they’d better not mess with me.

Now I am back under a pile of Snuggies (don’t knock them, they are really warm). And I amd drinking a ginger ale that Mrs. Rootchopper just brought from the store. When I am sick ginger ale is the nectar of the gods. When I am well, I can’t look at the stuff.

Now I lay me down to sleep….

And the Nominee Is

Fellow bike commuter and blogger Bri nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award. This is a nice thought and I appreciate it. The award does have all the earmarks of a chain letter though. It asks participants to post seven facts about him/herself. And link to 15 other blogs you like.

I’m not going to perpetuate the chain but for those of you who don’t already know, here are seven facts about me:

I used to run marathons. I’d give my left knee to run again but alas it’s already trashed.
I have met, by my count, 65 people because of the 50 States ride. This astounds me because up until the 2006 ride I did nearly all my riding alone.
I spent two summers driving a cab in Boston. It has taken me nearly 40 years to unlearn all the bad habits I acquired.
I hate traveling but have managed to rack up several foreign countries including Denmark, Portugal (twice), England, India, Canada, and West Virginia (at least 100 times)
I used to contribute material to Crazyguyonabike.com . This is an excellent website dedicated to bicycle touring.
I once smoked two packs of cigarettes a day and quit cold turkey.
I once lost 70 pounds in a year.
I am the son of an ophthalmologist. Ironically, I have worn glasses since 3rd grade and have had 6 eye operations in the last 15 years. If I were born 100 years ago, I’d have been eaten by wolves before I turned 40.

If you want to know my favorite blogs you can look at the list on the right. Here are the ones that I really look forward to:

The Impermanent Resident – The adventures of my friend Florencia who dropped out of conventional life to travel the world, explore her spirituality, and live by her wits.

Chasing Mailboxes – The biking, running, and fitness blog of Mary whose incessant picture taking indirectly resulted in me meeting about 50 of the 65 people above.

Tales from the Sharrows – Brian’s blog contains often surreal tales of his travels back and forth between work and home in DC.

Ultrarunnergirl – Kirstin’s blog is mostly about running incredibly long distances and the nutrition, medical, and mental requirements to get from here to there on two feet.

Bike Like Crazy – Bri’s blog is all about bike commuting through the winter in the frozen north of upstate New York. I simply don’t know how she does it.

My Year with Kerouac – Michelle tries to kill me with her WABA events. To make up for it, she writes in the style of the master.

We’ll Eat You Up We Love You So – The addictive tales of Shannon, a bicyclist new to the parenting game in suburban Rockville MD.

Pennine Pedalling – Georgie bikes in scenic rural England. Georgie is currently very pregnant.

PortaJohn – John invented the Hoppy 100 ride. I have done many rides with him. Most of them involve consumption of craft beer. He moved to Baltimore a few weeks ago but I’ll keep tabs on him through his blog posts.

Bike and Brain – I have always said that running and cycling are not about the body. They are about the mind. Matthew’s blog explores that train of thought.

Bikeyface – Becca bike commutes in Boston. Her humorous cartoons about riding in the city are always entertaining.

RamblingRider – Lisa and I have done many rides together since meeting three years ago. She doesn’t post often enough but I always look forward to her tales.

A Girl and Her Bike – Kate rides Molly and Kermit on the streets of DC. She used to ride for work, as a DC police officer. She’s still a LEO but no longer on two wheels for work.

Longer Baca – The off and on blog of Alex, who moved to San Francisco for career and boy, but misses DC something awful. We miss her too.

The Daily Randonneur – Ed and Mary (yes, that one) ride bikes incredibly far.

International Freeze Your A$$ Day

Somebody, somewhere decided that today is International Winter Bike to Work Day. This is the day when all the bike commuters in South America laugh at us up north. In keeping with the spirit of the day, Jack Frost returned with a vengeance. It was 13 degrees when I left home this morning. To make the ride to work more fun, there was a 10-15 mile per hour headwind.

I wore everything I could which makes for difficult pedaling. The sunrise was stunning today but you’ll have to take my word for it because there was nothing that was going to get me to stop my bike lest I freeze in place.

At Gravelly Point the treeless field let me experience the headwind in all its winter glory. I was struggling to maintain 8 miles per hour. This 1/2 mile stretch seemed like it would take forever. Since today is Friday, I rode into DC for Friday Coffee Club. The ride across the 14th Street Bridge was actually painful. The wind was cutting through my balaclava and causing the left side of my face to sting.

I briefly considered riding north on 15th Street to be officially counted by the people from Bicycle Space who somehow became the official counters of this event. Instead I banged a left on Pennsylvania Avenue and headed straight to Swings House of Caffeine. To my surprise there were already about 10 people there. In short order, we were up to our usual 20 or so

One of the folks at my table had some interesting artwork in his cup. Check it out.

The rode from Swings to Rosslyn was pretty nasty too. I crossed back over the river but only had to stop twice for inbound bike commuters.

During the day I had an asthma attack. The worst one I have had in years. A couple of puffs from my albuterol inhaler took care of it but now I know that cold air is a trigger. Whew!

The pedaling home was much easier for a several reasons. First, I wore only three layers on my legs instead of four on the ride in. Second, the headwind was gone. And it was about ten degrees warmer. Warmth is relative.

As difficult as today was, we are fortunate that the coldest weather will not arrive until Sunday. I am thankful that I don’t have to commute in that.

Let’s end on a warm thought. In one week, pitchers and catchers report for spring training. Batter up!

Throwback Thursday: Like Yesterday

I bought my first bike as an adult (sort of) when I was 22. It was a Raleigh Grand Prix and it cost me an entire week’s wages. I rode it for a summer in Boston and then moved to Providence for grad school. My Raleigh was my only means of transport and it served me well (until its left front fork fell off during a ride, but that’s another story). After class I’d go for rides in Providence and its environs until, that is, the days grew short. Back in those days bicycle lighting was patheticly inadequate. How was I going to de-stress without my bike.

I had a pair of Jack Purcell tennis shoes so I figured why not try running. My first run lasted about a quarter of a mile before I stopped due to lack of oxygen. With each passing day I added a bit of distance. After a few weeks, my tennis shoes were nearly destroyed so I bought a pair of running shoes and kept at it.

Over the course of the next two years my mileage increased incrementally. I still rode my bike but only to run errands or go on the occasion long (usually well under 30 miles) ride. I hit the 1 mile barrier, the 3 mile barrier, and the 5 mile barrier. Getting past each barrier took major effort. 7 miles. 10 miles. Once I cleared 13 miles I was cooking with gas. I quietly entered the Ocean State Marathon in Newport.

About a month before I tried my first 20 miler. It nearly killed me. A week later I tried again and finished, to my uttter amazement, in a full out 1 mile sprint. Dang. The day of the marathon came and some grad school friends and I drove to Newport. It was November 1. About a third of the course traversed Ocean Drive, with winds off Rhode Island sound. It was cold. I wore a t-shirt and cheap gym shorts.

And I ran. And I ran. And I ran. At 20 miles I felts awesome. At 23 I felt awful. The kind of awful that simply can’t be described. I could barely bend my legs. I forged onward walking and jogging until I could run slowly. My legs were beaten to death by the crown in Ocean Drive and the incredibly hard surface of Belleview Boulevard, pretty mansions all in a row.

The last half mile involved the biggest hill of the course. I was so mad when I saw it I took off in a full out sprint. When I crossed the finish line the congestion of the runners ahead of me caused me to stop abruptly. I was given my medal (which I still have), memorized my time (3:10:18) and started to cramp up something fierce. My crew of grad school friends came to my side and help me walk away.

As the Brits say, I was chuffed and knackered. I remember that run like it was yesterday. I wrecked my left knee playing volleyball three years later and had to give up running. I miss it every day still. When I walk downstairs to my family room I pass a wall with framed certificates from four of my seven marathon finishes. Glory days.

I Shoulda Known Better

Today’s title comes from one of John Lennon’s songs in A Hard Days Night. It’s been one of my favorites for a long time. It also describes how I felt about 40 minutes into my ride to work.

On the up side, I didn’t need to use a headlight today. Props to Copernicus.

It was cold. I had a headwind. Most importantly it had rained and sleeted and snowed a bit overnight. My lawn had a dusting of white. The streets were perfectly rideable. So I headed out on The Mule.

The three miles to the Mount Vernon Trail were uneventful, but for the fact that getting warm was a bit of a problem. As most of my readers already know, the National Park Service owns the Mount Vernon Trail. They do not treat it or shovel it in winter. This morning the asphalt parts were fine, but every wooden bridge was icy. The Dyke Marsh bridge is a couple hundred yards long. I didn’t slip at all as I rode across it. There were no signs of crashes in the this white layer that sat on top of its wooded deck. A very short wooden bridge near Belle Haven Park was also not a problem.

I made it to the bricks on the Washington Street deck. I expected to see ice but it was clear. My next challenge was along the trail near the river just north of Fords Landing. This too was snow and ice covered but I could see tire tracks had made it through this section successfully. I rolled right on through.

My next challenge came from the concrete bridge that skirts the power plant. A cyclists was walking his single speed bike up the hill from the bridge. Not a good sign. I rolled across the bridge and around its tight turn without incident, but I took note of the icy mud in the middle of the turn.

I figured that the farther north I rode, the lower the ambient air temperature and the higher the chance that one of these bridges would be bad news. I figured right.

The next bridge is a wooden deck that skirts the Slaters Lane apartment building. It takes a leftward 90 degree turn midway. The first half was rideable, but I spotted a smear mark in the thin layer of ice and snow on the boards. Someone had crashed. I made it through the turn in good shape despite several more smear marks. Then with out warning my rear tire began to slide sidewards. I gradually tried to steer out of it. Then down I went in a pretty decent imitation of an albatross landing. Somehow I ended up lying flat across the bike’s frame with my upper body and left ribs landing on the downtube (the diagonal one from the handlebars to the pedals) and my legs smacking the top tube (the one from the seat to the handlebars.

Oof! Am I hurt? Nope. Then I untangled myself from The Mule. Ow. Ribs hurt a bit. I stood the bike up. It slid. I was going to take a picture of my smear but the bike would not stay upright. So I walked off the bridge. As I did I could barely get traction. I made it off the bridge, straightened the handlebars and brake hood and rode away thankful that all my personal parts were working. I credit my not getting hurt to the fact that the bike frame cushioned the blow and the bike and I slid on contact.

100 yards further on was the beaver bridge, a similar wood bridge notorious for crashes. I decided to walk this one. Smears were all over the place. A walker was practically skating as she approached. I made it around the curve and went down. Walking! That’s how slippery it was. I carefully got up and pulled The Mule up and we started sliding backwards with the slant of the bridge! I arrested the slide and ever so gradually made my way to the side of the bridge where I grabbed the chain that acts as a sort of guardrail. Just as I grabbed hold I heard a thump. A rider fell 20 yards behind me. “I’m alright. Planned for it!”

He got right up and walked with me to the end of the bridge.

We both mounted our bikes. He sped off into what had become a pretty strong headwind. We’re having fun now!

As I approached the Humpback Bridge a rider coming toward me warned that the wooden Trollheim Bridge (the boardwalk beneath the TR Bridge) was covered in ice. I decided I’d had enough fun for one morning and turned off the MVT and toward Arlington Cemetery. I rode the path around the cemetery to the gate at Fort Myer, banged a right and rolled straight to the office. While I showered I looked down and saw a pretty impressive imprint of my top tube across my right knee.

Funny thing is, last winter at just about this time, I fell riding Little Nellie on the glazed streets near my home. You’d think I’d learn.

Getting the Docs Out of My Way and Mate

I took a voluntary day off today to go to three medical appointments. I drove to all three which were spread all over Alexandria. First, came the dentist in the west end of Alexandria. I think every one of my teeth has a filling or a crown so dentist visits are usually an opportunity for financial disaster. This one went perfectly. No issues to deal with. I am done with my teeth for 6 months. Yay!

After a stop to kill time at a Starbucks (I rarely go there but it was convenient), I went to the dermatologist for a full body skin screening. I am of Irish/English stock so I am the king of sunburns. My skin is so pale that a childhood friend called me Boo Radley. (I am not making this up.) The dermatologist had a field day freezing various suspicious growths off all parts of my body. I lost count at 15. It wasn’t a lot of fun, but, unlike last year, I had nothing worthy of a biopsy so I am done with my skin for 6 months, too. Yay x 2!

My final stop was at the physical therapist. I hate doing all the crunches and dips and assorted other strange exercises but when I am done my back feels wonderful. The really good news is that other than when I drive my car, the numbness in my right foot seems to be fading away. Yay x 3!

Basically all this means that I have only three more doctor’s appointments to deal with. One more PT session. A return visit to the neurologist. And an ophthalmologist appointment. It’s possible that I could be done with doctors until July or August which means more time for riding and hiking.

Not related to medicine but worth talking about is an interesting alternative to coffee and black tea that I tried over the weekend. Yerba mate is a tea popular in South America. It has about 2x the caffeine of a can of Diet Coke but none of the acidity of black tea or coffee. I have been meaning to try mate for years but never could find it until now.

Tomorrow, I am back on The Mule for another bike commute. By the way, did you know that Friday is International Winter Bike to Work Day? You should sign up.

Spring Training

We are training for spring. Today the temperature on my back deck reached 66 degrees. After weeks of freezing our asses off, the people of DC are all smiles. Except, perhaps, for the tourist I saw crashing on his Segway, but I am getting ahead of myself.

I started the day doing physical therapy for my foot. It was barely numb when I awoke but I decided to forgo yoga or my other exercises and just do what the PT people told me to do. Dang, it hurts. Raise this, lower that, keep your stomach and your butt cheeks tight. After about a half an hour our was done. My stomach muscles wanted to be traded to another body. And the lacrosse ball that is beating the knots out of my calves is seriously in danger of getting thrown out the window. Ouch.

After a morning of relaxation, I headed out the door on Big Nellie. I was bound for an everything bagel in Bethesda, about 24 miles away. It was 50 degrees outside. Yesss.

As I was waiting for cars at an intersection with Fort Hunt Road near my home, an SUV drove by and made friendly tooting sounds with its horn. I have no idea who it was but I waved at them

I made it to the Mount Vernon Trail which was not particularly crowded. In Old Town Alexandria I took South Washington Street. My physical therapist ran past. Small world.

The ride to the city was so peaceful I went on auto pilot. I stopped at Gravelly Point to watch a plane land overhead – easily one of my favorite free things to do.

Over the 14th Street Bridge I rode then up Ohio Drive to M Street to the Capital Crescent Trail. The long ride up to Bethesda took time. Recumbents simply don’t do uphills very well. And since I am not exactly a badass on two wheels let’s just say it took a while.

When I got to Bethesda Row I headed straight for Bethesda Bagels. Since it was well after noon there wasn’t a line. I picked up my everything bagel, toasted with veggie cream cheese and a sweet tea. I proceeded to inhale these comestibles with great vigor. Ah!

I rode the Georgetown Branch Trail over to the Rock Creek Trestle. The trail was somewhat muddy. Recumbents are the best mudders so it was a tense ride. I slipped this way and that several times. The view from the testle differs by time of year. The winter view is, of course, leafless but it’s always fun to be at treetop level with the world. IMG_20150208_142017

I reversed course then headed down into Rock Creek Park. All the climbing has its rewards and for most of the next 7 miles I was cruising downhill. The number of people on Beach Drive was impressive. Many families out riding bikes with their kids. I had to be careful not to hit any of them. They wobble and waver and dart out in front of you unexpectedly.

I got on the trail at Klingle Road. This was a mistake. The trail at this point is narrow and crowded and has numerous bumps from tree routes. Once I reached the zoo entrance, I took Harvard Street to climb into Adams Morgan. It’s a healthy climb, too. To recover from my exertion I took a very slow speed spin through Meridian Hill Park. There was a healthy number of people there, no one I knew though. I rode by the drum circle but there was only one man with drums so I decided to head back home.

I took 16th Street which is a nice straight downhill shot to the White House. Along the way I saw the indefatigible Ted a.k.a @MrTinDC.

I shifted over to the 15th Street cycletrack and got behind a long line of tourists on Segways. Normally, Big Nellie looks weird to people I pass but in a cluser of Segways, Big Nellie doesn’t get a passing glance. At the intersection with Pennsylvania Avenue, the Seqways stopped to regroup. One tourist’s Segway jolted to a stop throwing him to the ground with an audible SPLAT. Should’ve rented bikes.

I crossed back over the river and headed home on the Mount Vernon Trail. It was packed with people, most of whom were oblivious to the fact that some people were actually trying to make forward progress. At the south end of the airport I balied out, opting to cut through Del Ray.

I cut over to Old Town and rejoined the MVT at the southern end of Old Town. Mistake. This part of the trail was every bit as chaotic as what I had bailed out on.There was no point in getting upset about it. I slowed down and took in the madness that warm weather brings. And besides, by this point my legs were started to tell me that all that time off in January had taken its toll on my fitness.

I arrived home. Mrs. Rootchopper had opened the windows. The temperature was 66 degrees. (One degree off the record, so I am told.)

So I ended up riding 170 miles in seven days. Not half bad for winter. Tomorrow is a day off the bike as I am going to three doctors appointments.

We now return to our regularly scheduled winter.

‘

A Perfect Kind of Spinal Tap Smile

I woke up with a sense of dread. I could just tell it was as cold as Nome outside. I went out to get the newspaper. Yep, Nome. I checked the thermometer. It said this:

11

Gulp. This is a Spinal Tap morning.

I ran upstairs for another layer of clothes. After eating breakfast I stepped out into the cold.

Mostly I was warm in about two miles. Except my fingertips just would not warm up. Dang, they hurt. The sun was rising when I arrived at Dyke Marsh but I didn’t take a picture because I would have had to take my hand out of its glove. Take my word for it, the sunrise was mighty fine.

I continued riding. The cold air took my mind of of everyday concerns. It was just me, my breathing, and the passing scenery. I was in the zone. Just rolling along. This is the only way to go.

I made it to Friday Coffee Club and was surprised to see so many bikes parked outside. I was followed inside by Dr. McMurdo, Science Mom. We had a chat in line waiting for our brews. Frankly, they could have just poured the stuff on my feet. I wouldn’t have cared.

The bike commuter crowd had already packed itself around two tall tables, so I was lucky to commandeer a third. I was joined by Ricky, Ted, Lis (not a typo, she’s peculiar about thiz), Jeff, and Andy (whom I had not previously met). We discussed physical therapy (which most of us seemed to have some experience with) and nerve flossing (easily the sketchiest thing I have heard of in a long time.)

After coffee, I rode to the office. I reached the TR bridge and rode all the way across its narrow side path without havingf to stop for a single DC-bound cyclist. This is called a “perfect” by Brian. It is only my second TR bridge perfect since I started riding to coffee club three years ago.

I managed not to get nearly kiiled in the Intersection of Doom.

The ride home was notable for only two things. As I rolled past a massive storm drain conduit where run off from Rosslyn’s streets dumps into the river, I noticed the water was an unnatural blue/green/slime color. Right at the edge of this nasty looking liquid was a great blue heron all tucked in onto itself.

A few miles later I passed an oncoming runner. It was a young woman bundled up against the cold. Our eyes met and she gave me an ear to ear smile. It was the perfect exclamation point to a might fine week of biking to work.

The rest of the ride home was pretty much as good as it gets for a Friday in winter. The sun stayed up for most of the ride home. Good of you to cooperate Mr. Sol. (Mr. Sol being one of Neil Young’s awesomest songs, by the way.)

Despite the lingering cold of winter, this week’s bike commutes went to 11. Practically perfect in every way.