Sleet and Other Gifts

Today was one of those days that everything seemed to lift me. A picture on Facebook of a friend who recently passed away was posted by her widower. She was dressed in winter clothes and smiling her signature radiant smile. A gift from the beyond.

I left the house ready to greet the day with the smile in my mind’s eye. The day had yet to break. The Mule and I rode off in the dark thankful that the 26 degree air was calm. Within a mile I was completely comfy in my layers of pathetic looking winter gear. If I wasn’t on a bike, I am pretty sure passers-by would give me money for a hot meal.

I arrived at the Mount Vernon Trail still before sunrise. About 1 1/2 miles into the ride, the predawn sky was an hallucination. I stopped to admire it and take a picture. A gift for the eyes.

The rest of the ride just flowed. Without effort, I reached the 14th Street Bridge. Dawn had broken. The monuments, cathedral, and other DC buildings were reflected in the calm river. A gift on the water. I paused to admire the tableau then climbed the ramp to the bridge and headed into DC.

Riders coming towards me were bundled up so much that I could see only part of their eyes and noses. They all looked unhappy. Cheer up people it’s awesome out here!

I arrived at Swings House of Caffeine and bikes were parked everywhere. It was the third anniversary of Friday Coffee Club. The joint was packed with bike commuters. Coffee Club co-founder Ed had brought a cake and was handing out slices to the throng. Aside from Ed there was Lisa (who hasn’t been to Coffee Club in months) and Kirstin and Kristen and Reba and Chris and Ricky and Lawyer Mike and Michael and Ted and Brook and Jesse and Ryan and Jacques and Mary and Jeff and Sam and on and on. I even met a first time attendee, Jessica who commutes most days by bike from Capitol Hill. And so I enjoyed the gift of friends, old and new.

Ricky with the 8-ball helmet and Jacques behind him

The ride to work back across the Potomac was serene. The river was ice free and I spotted a magnificent great blue heron wading next to the river bank on the Virginia side. A gift from the skies.

The workday was uneventful. Just before I left work a friend who had recently left DC posted a short video of her feeding baby goats some milk. It was the first time I had heard her laugh in months. A gift for the ears.

The ride home began in a cold, light rain. The path downhill to the Mount Vernon Trail had been sprayed with brine. The Trail itself is never treated. Could I make it home if the rain started to freeze? The rain shone like tinsel in my headlight. Then sleet came down, stinging my face. I stuck out my tongue to feel the icy cold pellets. A gift for the senses.

As I rode along a cyclist approached. It appeared to be a woman but her face was covered in a scarf. She said something to me in passing. Someone I knew? No way to tell. [I subsequently learned it was Sam who was not getting this whole gift of sleet idea.]

I gingerly made my way home, taking what route the elements allowed. I stayed off the busier streets and arrived home intact, grateful for the gift of shelter from the elements.

Chill

I have said it many times before but I love my commute. It allows me time to think or to just shut my mind off. I do more of the former than the latter these days. It doesn’t much matter what I am thinking about. Mostly stuff that may be annoying me. I often talk to myself, sometimes out loud. These days you can get away with that sort of thing because people assume you are on your phone.

This time of year I often get a bonus on the ride to work. If the weather and my departure from home align I get to see the sun rise over the Potomac River. More often than not I stop to take a picture from the Dyke Marsh boardwalk on the Mount Vernon Trail. This morning the boards were covered with rime but I managed to come to a stop without slipping. After the picture I took a moment just to take the colors in. I guess this is what causes me, as @sharrowsdc once said, to be “chill”.

I also like to take in the view of Washington National Cathedral, standing tall above the city as I make my way along the river between the airport and Rosslyn. It is such a beautiful structure. I used to gawk at it when my kids went to school up in Woodley Park.

In the evening, my ride home usually coincides with nightfall. The monuments of DC are lit up, either by artificial lights or by the colors of the setting sun.

I suppose you can see these things from a car, but you really can’t appreciate them at a glance. Too often we are consumed with the goal of getting to our destination rather than enjoying the ride. That sentiment is a rarity when I commute by bike. I think we’d all be better off if we took some time to chill on the way to and from work.

Seven

I was talking with Sam at Friday Coffee Club. The conversation was about holey sweaters. Sam (and Lawyer Mike) both were chatting about the virtues of old wool sweaters as a mid layer for winter biking. We should form a club or something. Sam is also a redhead for which she gets special bonus points. When I was a kid, and had, um, hair, I was a redhead too. In fact I still am. In places.

As she was about to leave, Sam mentioned that she had to go to a physical therapy appointment. I asked why and she said she was recently hit by a car. Incredulous, I mentioned that she makes six people, all women, that I know who’ve been hit by a car in since May 2011. Then she said, “Make it seven. Jeff was hit recently too.” Jeff is her husband who was standing across the room. He appeared to be okay.

Are you kidding me? Why is walking and riding a bike around here a blood sport?

It makes me think that I have a target on my back and that it’s only a matter of time before my number gets called.

I May Be Sick but I’m Not a Yogi

Last night Mrs. Rootchopper and I went out to dinner in Old Town at a place called Everwood. It’s pretty nice; the food is tasty, the beer and wine selection is good, and you can actually hold a conversation. Mrs. was especially happy that she could ogle her man. Not me, Paul Pierce who was playing basketball on the TV over the bar. (It doesn’t bother me. If she runs off with him, I get Keira Knightly.)

I had a couple of pints of craft beers with my meal thinking nothing of it. This is because I am an idiot. Nine times out of ten beer keeps me from falling to sleep. (Of course, one solution would be to drink ten craft beers and I’d lapse into unconsciousness. That is undignified, however.) So I was up most of the night. Tossing and turning and, of course, obsessing about all the things that I promised myself I would not obsess about. Just as I was finally nodding off around 6 a.m., Mrs. Rootchopper let out a howl. Leg cramp. This is no doubt a residual benefit from being run over by an SUV. It was over in a few minutes (easy for me to say) but the drama did its thing and I was awake for good. Need less to say, so was she. I stayed in bed for another 90 minutes to no avail.

I surrendered and went downstairs to do my Saturday morning yoga routine.This involves nearly every posture in the yoga book we have (plus a few more I have seen on friends’ facebook pages). I say “nearly” because there are a few that ain’t going to happen.

Head stand – I like my cervical vertibrae just fine the way they are, thank you
Lion – this involves making a face and spastically extending you arms, fingers and tongue. In short, it looks as if you are having a seizure. And there is drool. Not for me.
Bow – Lying on your stomach you reach back and grab your ankles and gently rock. Reach back and grab my ankles? LOL
Behind the back hand pull. You reach one hand over one shoulder and the other hand under the opposite shoulder blade. Glasp you hands mid-back and gently pull. The last time I was limber enough to pull this off I was wearing Doctor Dentons.
Scalp pull – yes, take fistfuls of hair and gently but firmly pull from several directions. I lack sufficient hair for this one.
Alternate nostril breathing – Seriously?
Candle concentration – stare at a candle for a long time. I have enough vision problems without seeing a candle in my line of sight for an hour, thank you very much.

I can do pretty much all of the other postures, at least to the extent that my steel hamstrings allow. So I spent 40 minutes contorting and stretching and bending and balancing. I am pretty sad at the balancing part. I try to stay away from breakable household objects during the balancing bits. I do try though. I am pretty proud of the fact that after several weeks of trying I can do a backward bend and sit on my haunches without crying.

Once done with the self abuse, I launched a 20 minute video with nondescript relaxing music and I meditated. This involves sitting still and thinking about your breathing and only your breathing. The idea is not to get frustrated when you mind inevitably drifts, but to simply refocus on your breathing. When the time is up, I feel infinitely better than when I started. I have yet to rule out the distinct possibility that my improved state of mind is the result of hyperventilating, however. Today, I learned that 20 minutes is a bit too much for my level of competence so it’s back to 15 minutes for the forseeable future.

After breakfast I was planning on going for a bike ride but all of a sudden my tummy did not feel so good.

I tried to nap. No go. An hour passed. Two hours passed.

I put on my homeless-man-on-a-bike gear and went out for a ride. I had nothing. I managed to cover 11 1/2 miles before packing it in. I gave myself a pat on the back (figurative, see discussion above) and chalked up my first 100-mile week of the year.

And now I am going to sleep.

It’s Not the Cold, It’s the Mileage

Something is terribly wrong. For the second day in a row, I looked forward to riding to work in sub-freezing temperatures. This morning I left well before daybreak to arrive at Friday Coffee Club at a reasonable time. I was mighty cold for the first mile but warmed up and settled into a rhythm following the white circle that my headlight makes. It’s a bit like following the bouncing ball from those old sing-a-longs on TV from before the dawn of time.

The roads and trails appeared to have an ever-so-thin patina of ice on them but I only slipped once and that was on a patch of slush that I decided to ride through. The patches of ice on the trail that were there yesterday morning were gone taking away those moments of indecision and nail biting (nail biting while riding with lobster gloves on is an art, let me tell you). I crossed over the Potomac River on the 14th Street Bridge which is actually named for a man (no his name is not 14th Street) on the Air Florida plane that crashed into the icy river on takeoff some 33 years ago. He gave up the rescue line so that others could be saved. He ended up at the bottom of the river.

I digress. The river had frozen into sheets of ice that had buckled. They overlapped haphazardly. So I took a picture.

On the DC side the curb cuts and other smooth bits of sidewalk looked like sheets of ice but my tires held their line. I made my way to Swings House of Caffeine unimpeded by big metal things. Just before arriving Aaron pulled up alongside me on his massive cargo bike. I think he is overcompensating for something.

At Swings cyclists were just beginning to arrive. I can’t remember the last time I arrived so early. Last year at this time I recall arriving and being part of a grumpy quintet of frozen male bike commuters. Not today. Within 20 minutes there were more than 20 bicycle commuters, including six or seven women. Nobody, male or female, seemed the least bit grumpy. Except perhaps for Aaron, but, as I said, he has issues.

The ride to work involved the usual re-crossing of the river on the TR Bridge. A gaggle of geese took off from the river and began to form a V as they passed overhead. One lone goose remained on a small sheet of ice in midstream. I wonder if his feet were frozen to the ice.

When I left the office it was 20 degrees warmer and I had a tailwind. By contrast with the morning it felt like July. I was tempted to pull over and bask in the sun but thought better of it.

When I arrived home, I checked the odometer on The Mule. It said this:

As Indiana Jones said, “It’s not the age, it’s the mileage.”

You Look Yet You Do Not Observe

I have been riding to the same office for over three years. And with only a handful of exceptions I always ride from the Mount Vernon Trail up a switchback, across a bridge, then up to the fabled Intersection of Doom. The switchback offers a pretty nice view of Theodore Roosevelt Island. But it’s a blur lost in my negotiating the turn. Until tonight.

I rode down to the switchback and I saw this tree. This magnificent tree on the bank across the way on the island. It looked spooky and majestic and menacing. Or maybe it was waving at me. I think it’s a beech tree. I had to stop and admire it. Hiding in plain sight.

My Right Foot #6 – Huge Improvement

I laid off the bike for over a week hoping it might make a difference in my numb right foot. Nada.

So I rode to work yesterday braving the black ice.The ride in involved temperatures in the mid-30s and a stiff headwind. I managed not to slip once. Much thanks to the southbound riders who warned me of icy spots ahead. #bikedc people are the best. It took me a while but The Mule would not be stopped.

It was about 30 for the ride home but I had a tailwind which meant I was comfortable. And, wonder of wonders, it was light out for nearly one-third of my ride. We’ve added 17 minutes of daylight, mostly in the evening, since the solstice. It feels wonderful. There was quite a bit more ice but I knew where to look for it so I had no worries and not a single slip. Along the way I could feel the tendon that goes into the numb area of my foot snapping like it was a string on McCartney’s Hoffner. It feels totally strange but doesn’t hurt.

Today I drove to work listening to Los Lobos’s Kiko. If you can’t bike commute, you should at least have the proper cartunes. In the afternoon, I went to a new neurologist for the numbness in my left foot. I had gone to a neurologist a month ago but he was a disheveled old man who gave me the creeps. He didn’t examine me or look at the MRI disk I brought. I decided to switch.

My new neurologist took a thorough history of my back and nerve problems, looked at my MRI from last May and showed me the area of concern, and gave my feet, legs, and lower back a careful, methodical examination. She was really interested in my tendon too. And the acupuncture. And the orthotics. She told me my case matches her medical training to a T and was genuinely interested in my symptoms and me. I had trouble suppressing a smile through the entire visit. She is soooooooooo much better than Dr. Creepy.

And, not that it matters to my medical situation, she’s gorgeous. So’s my dermatologist. I can’t help it if I’m lucky.

And for the 8th day in a row, I practiced meditation. Why didn’t I do this before?

It’s going to be 29 degrees tomorrow when I get up. Sounds like a good day for a bike commute, don’t you think?

Why Worry Indeed

My drive to work streak is now at 5 days. I have bike commuted once in 2015. The reason is ice. I don’t do ice. Why don’t I get studded tires? They are very expensive for a start. Even if I had them they’d slow me down. I don’t want to be bike commuting for 90 minutes each way in 15 degree temps either.

Driving isn’t half bad when schools are delayed. Today I made it to work in under 25 minutes. That’s like driving to work on a Sunday. I am getting caught up on cartunes. I have listened to Le Vent du Nord, Los Lobos, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, and Dire Straits so far. Quebec, East LA, North Florida, and Scotland. I think I’ve got it all covered.

I had a stressful day today at work. I was interviewed live on the radio. The interview went very well but the interview was at 4 pm so I had to wait all day for the unknown. When I had to give speeches in high school, I’d freak out beforehand. To get rid of my nerves I’d pretend that I was screaming and clench my fists. (Actually, something similar to this technique is in the yoga book I use. Of course, I had no idea I was doing a yoga technique at the time.) The only downside is you look like you should be taken to a nervous hospital.

After going through some tough times in the last few months, a friend advised me to try meditation. Then I saw Dan Harris, a TV reporter, give an account of how his anxiety attacks almost destroyed his career. The video is really hard to watch. He turned to meditation and it saved him. Like Harris, I’m not so much interested in the religious/spriritual aspect of mediation. I don’t follow any isms, except, perhaps, cynicism. I have seen too many people use religious clap trap to rationalize boorish behavior for a start. I had to admit that Harris makes a pretty convincing case, however. So, I did some research online. Then I found some 15-minute YouTube videos with useful dreamy music and sounds and such. And I gave it a go.

I’ll be damned. It really helps. Very much like my fist clenching technique but infinitely more relazing. I’ve done my little meditation thing now 7 days in a row. I hate starting. It’s hard for me to sit still and concentrate on essentially nothing. When the 15 minutes are up, I feel like somebody took away my favorite toy. Wait! I gimme that back!

The last four or five weeks I have been a bundle of worries. Worry is my natural state. The professed benefits of meditation remind me of a time when I was just starting a bike tour to Indiana. I was about 50 miles from home, cycling west on the C&O Canal towpath, and I was absolutely miserable with “what if this goes wrong” and “what if that goes wrong” thoughts. Then it hit me. You idiot! You are on vacation! Chill! Nothing is wrong now. Enjoy this. I purposefully pushed the worries out of my mind. The rest of the ride was joyful.

Of course, I did have problems. Three days later my back rim failed oustide of Frostburg. I found a not-yet-open bike shop. The owner and his manager agreed to help me out overnight! I missed maybe 2 hours of riding time. Three days after that my brake cables seized. I found the best bike mechanic ever in Little Washington PA. He did an amazing job on my bike. Why worry? (A pretty decent Dire Straits song, by the way.)

I don’t know whether I will keep practicing meditation. Or if I will try something other than the simple breathing meditation that I learned. For now, it floats my boat.

During the day I learned that smoke had filled the Metro station near my wife’s office. Tonight I found out that one person had died. Yet another reminder (not that I needed another one after three people I know died in the last four months) that you better enjoy life while you have it.

Why worry, indeed.

Cold Walking, Calm Mind

Three things I like about riding a bike are (1) it allows me to get exercise while I am doing something useful (like getting to work or going to the store), (2) on hot days I generate my own cooling wind, and (3) it calms my mind.

I didn’t have anywhere I needed to go today and it was 21 degrees outside so a cooling wind was not desirable, but after four days of inactivity I had to get outside and do something physical. I laced up my hiking shoes and went for a long walk.

I was bundled up with a wool cap and neck gaiter to cover my head. I wore a t-shirt (my 2014 50 States Ride shirt), a polyester fleece, and a leather jacket. My hands were covered in mittens. My legs, which were going to do most of the work, were clad in light weight blue jeans. I wore wool socks in my hiking shoes.

I was cold. It was a bit windy. I started trucking. Within a half mile I was perfectly comfortable. Within a half mile my body wanted to run. The orthotics in my shoes made it feel like I was being propelled down the street. Even so, I resisted the urge. Running would almost certainly mess up my gimpy lower back.

There’s one thing you can say about the suburbs and you can’t sugarcoat it: suburbs are boring, especially when nobody is out and about. I was walking for 2 hours and saw one person outside who was not in a car. One.

Another thing you can say about suburbs like the Fort Hunt area of Fairfax County where I live is the good folks at VDOT have absolutely no clue about pedestrians. In someplaces there is a concrete sidewalk. In others there is an asphalt path, typically bulging with tree roots. In others still the sidewalk disappears. And sometimes when the sidewalk disappears there is no shoulder to walk on. That means you get to walk in the road on busy, narrow streets like Fort Hunt Road. VDOT it seems is all about cars.

I had nowhere to go and didn’t need to get there at any particular time. I tried my best not to think about work or people or anything in particular. Many years ago when I was a runner, this was what completely turned me on about running. I could just turn off the chatter in my head and go on autopilot. When I was in really good shape, I’d do what I called run from the hips. This meant that my stride was automatic, almost robotic, effortless. When you get to this point running becomes moving meditation. It’s prettty awesome.

So that’s what I was striving for. I can’t say I was successful. You can’t really zone out when you’re worried about getting run over by a Subaru. But I tried.

My speed slowed a bit after three miles. I started running over work stuff in my head. After about a half mile of that I refocused on not focusing (if that makes any sense). I made my way to a deli and bought lunch to go. Then I trucked the rest of the way home. When I arrived the thermometer said it was 26 degrees. Bangor tanning weather.

It wasn’t as good as a walk in the woods or a bike ride on country roads on a sunny summer day, but it served it’s purpose. It got my outside. I broke a sweat. I calmed my mind.