Coffeeneuring Day 1: Fifty Miles for a Cup of Joe

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.

For pix of the ride, check out my set on Flickr.

Coffeeneuring Stats:

Place: Port City Java

Drink: House Roast. I’ve had better. The scone was good though.

Miles: 51

The Fourth Day of Furloughmas: Say Goodbye to My Little Friend

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.

The Third Day of Furloughmas

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.

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.

Bike Tourists at Mount Vernon

Bike Tourists at Mount Vernon, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

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.

September by the Numbers

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.

To Dulles with Randos

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.

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.

Some more pix of the ride are over here.

Let’s Ride Two: Dead Man Biking

Backroads 2013

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.

Here are a few pix of our Backroads adventure.

Let’s Ride Two: Fifty States and a Monsoon

Prelude

Last year, the 50 States Ride and the Backroads Century were scheduled for Saturday and Sunday on the same weekend. Being a biker of very little brain I signed up for both and survived to tell about them.

During the 65-mile 50 States Ride, Liza (@ramblingrider) dropped out in Tacoma Park thereby missing out of the joys of Alaska, Oregon, Utah, Wisconsin, Nebraska, Arizona, New Mexico, Idaho, and Connecticut Avenues. She swore she’d ride the whole thing this year, so I agreed to ride along with her. Unlike last year, Lisa did not sign up for Backroads this year. Kristen (@Bobbishaftoe), however, did and asked if I’d ride it with her. Not recalling the ride to be particularly difficult (and proving that I have long term memory issues) I agreed to join her for the metric (65 mile) version.

Fifty States in a Monsoon

After a rude 5:30 wake up, I drove to DC and parked my car about 1 mile uphill from the start of the ride in Adams Morgan. The course is hilly and the forecast called for rain so I was riding The Mule my best bike for both conditions. The forecast called for a long, soaking rain in the mid to late afternoon. I rode down to the start and there were all kinds of people I knew: First, I ran into Mike with whom I used to work. Then I talked with Ryan Sigworth (@ryansigworth) who was a volunteer at the check in desk. Ted (@MrTinDC) and Jean (@jerdling) took off early. We saw Kate (there’s always one Kate) (@girlonabikedc) sneak away into the pack of early departers, too. Jeff, who has ridden with me on a dozen rides over the years, stopped by to say hello. Kevin (@bicyclebug), Lisa, new dad Justin (@jantos), Dave (@darsal), Kirstin (@ultrarunnergirl) and Tom (@ultrarunnerhubz – okay, I made that up) gathered together and started en mess at the back of the crowd. As we pulled away, Felkerino (@dailyrandonneur) and MG (@gypsybug) appeared, disguised as husband and wife bike rider. As usual, they planned to skip a few states in favor of coffee shops.

The start of the course was very different this year. Instead of spiralling around the streets of downtown hitting one stop light after another we picked off a few states then headed east and then south to Capitol Hill. Somewhere along the way Felkerino, MG, Kirstin, and Tom headed off course for espresso. Near Union Station the rest of us missed the unsigned Delaware Avenue. Being dedicated to the task and anal retentives, we circled back for the entirety of Delaware’s magnificent 100 yards of pavement. What a thrill.

The course took us across Capitol Hill and down Independence Avenue where Justin and Dave stopped to help a rider whose rear rack had fallen off and was dragging behind his bike on the pavement. Next we cruised over to Hains Point, a favorite flat ride along the Potomac River. One year not long ago, the course passed by a massive construction project in what is now called Near Southeast DC. Seeing the beautiful Nationals Park at the same location was an indication of how DC is changing for the better. Riding past the Navy Yard a few blocks later was a reminder of another sort.

Once over the Anacostia River, we rode over a whole bunch of tree roots into Anacostia Park where we hit the aptly named Anacostia rest stop. Here we rejoined the espresso club and watched Kate ride away. I think she was on a mission from God.

We launched anew into the hills of Anacostia. Pedal, pedal. Huff and puff. Last year I rode most of the ride with Laurie, a loquacious course marshall. It was nice to fall in with her once again as we rode into the wind up the first hill up Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. We were rewarded with a tailwind and much funny chatter from Laurie and her entourage as we climbed up Stanton Road and Alabama Avenue. In short order we picked off Texas and were zooming down Massachusetts Avenue at great speed. Most of the riders were trying to stay in the narrow bike lane but I said PSHAW (which is my wont) and got in the main right lane and let ‘er rip. Big fun.

Soon we were back across the Anacostia River and at the mid-ride lunch stop at Eastern Market where Kate was waiting with her gorgeous bike Kermit. I snarfed a chicken burrito and chatted with Kate and Alex (@alexbaca) who was communicating her ass off for the Washington Area Bicyclists Association.

After lunch we did another loop on east Capitol Hill then headed north where abundant hills awaited us. Pedal, pedal, huff, and puff. Damn this city is hilly. Riding up Hawaii wasn’t exactly Haleakala but it sure felt like it.

The ride took us into a bunch of spirals to pick off Colorado, Iowa, and other states of hilly repute. We then reached the third rest stop at the home of Mike (@rattlingfender) and the other Lisa (Eaker), to whom he claims to be married. Mike shouted my arrival (ROOTCHOPPER!!!) causing me great embarrassment and ego inflation. The awesome Rachel (@rachelcannon) from WABA was staffing the rest stop. We made tentative plans to do a ride in October.

We, now rejoined by the espresso crowd, spent way too much time hanging out and were rewarded with the first raindrops of the day shortly after heading out. Along Alaska Avenue the rain began to fall. We entered Rock Creek Park and stopped to don rain gear causing the rain to stop for about 15 minutes.

Along Rock Creek, the espresso gang peeled off for the after party (SLACKERS! This will go on their Permanent records – a little randonneuring pun there). Kevin zoomed on ahead of us and Lisa and I rode as a duo as the skies opened. Nothing like a monsoon, hills, and traffic for a fun day out on the bike.

We passed Kevin at the last rest stop enjoying some rest in the rain. We were now focussed on getting out of this rain. Down we rode to Arizona Avenue with cars all about. I am hereby recommending that we kick Arizona out of the union. At the base of a long hill, we turned onto a side street and started the steep, bumpy assault on Mount AU. Curse you, gravity.

Rejoined by Kevin, we rode a few more hills in the rain and the traffic. Kevin and I took the sidewalk to avoid a road closure. Lisa decided to be a good citizen cyclist and took a detour. Not knowing what happened to her, Kevin and I waited in the rain next to a police station for 10 or 15 minutes before concluding that Lisa was not dead.

Ten soggy minutes later we were done, and celebrating at Mellow Mushroom, site of the post ride party. There were Rachel, Kate, Felkerino, MG, Dave, and many other soggy cyclists. We had ourselves some pizza and hoisted (can you say “hoist” when it’s a plastic cup?) us some beer, still crazy after all these years.

After the party I went to get on the Mule and it’s rear tire was flat. I pumped it up the best I could and rode a mile uphill to the car, hearing the squish of my flattening rear tire all the way.

Despite the rain and hills and the flat tire, I had a great time. I’ve done this ride six times over the last decade. It’s always a great social experience. If it wasn’t for this ride, I wouldn’t know most of the #bikedc people I know. I wouldn’t have seen first hand how all areas of the city have blossomed. The people of DC, especially in Anacostia, never fail to cheer you on and make sure you stay on course. If you haven’t done this ride, DO IT.

Lastly, a tip of my skivvy 22-year old rain hat in thanks to Ryan, Alex, Mike and Lisa, Rachel, and all the other volunteers who made this ride happen. You are awesome.

My pictures are here. Lisa’s blog is over there. Kirstin’s is down yonder. And MG’s blog post is up this way.

Post Traumatic Weekend Syndrome

As many of my readers know, I did two hilly metric centuries this weekend. Since my accounts and a few pictures are long and I am still pooped, I will blog about them in the days to come. For today I present what it’s like to commute on two legs of lead: not exactly expeditious!

I left home a few minutes early to be sure to arrive at work in time for an 8:30 commitment. About a mile from home I rode up a short steep hill on my way to the Mount Vernon Trail. Dang! My legs were dead meat. Undaunted, I continued on flat Alexandria Avenue. I spotted some kids waiting for a school bus. Their heads were dropping as they drowsily ignored each other and mourned the end of the weekend. On my recumbent I have a nice view of the sky. Just before I passed the kids, a big bald eagle came soaring right over the tops of the trees toward us. Not one of them saw it. Then, another bald eagle came right behind the first. The kids missed that one too. Kind of hard to get inspired for the start of the week if you don’t look up now and then, no?

The ride into work featured a nice cold headwind. Lovely. The Hoppy Runner seemed not to mind as he had the wind at his back. Nancy “Two Sheds” Duley waved hello and yelled “Enjoy the wind!” as she cruised by on her way south.

As I cleared the 14th Street bridge a passing rider commented on my weekend riding. How the heck he knew I rode both rides is beyond me.

The rest of the ride north was uneventful except for the hill up to Rosslyn. It seemed much steeper today. A block from work I admired a black Maserati as it waited at a traffic light in front of me. If I owned a Maserati I don’t think I’d drive it in rush hour traffic.

The ride home featured a welcome tailwind. I could tell I was still a little out of it when I passed a jogger pushing one of those fancy baby carriages. I could see a bike approaching from ahead of us. Normally, I’d just accelerate but today when I called on my legs to push they said, “Not today”. Thankfully, the approaching rider was alert and I managed to veer out of his way. My apologies if you read this.

I have a short climb to get up to Washington Street at the beltway. My legs were convinced we were on Alpe D’Huez. At the top, I started to turn left to cross an intersection. I saw a runner coming from that direction. My eyes fixated on him. Instead of stopping, I glided a bit. Just as the runner reached the curb cut on my side of the intersection, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something big. I hit my brakes and stopped just before hitting a light pole. My legs aren’t the only things that are tired.

I managed to get home from there in one piece. As I crossed the Dyke Marsh boardwalk, I huge Great Blue Heron flew from right to left in front of me, coming to a soft landing in the water to my left.

Even tired and sore, my bike commute is still pretty damned nice.

Tomorrow, part one of Let’s Ride Two.

Bike Crash Aftermath

Bike Crash Aftermath, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

There are a few spots along the Mount Vernon Trail that are poorly designed and difficult to navigate safely. One is the “S” curve near the general aviation terminal at National Airport. According to this sign, a cyclist was seriously hurt in a head on collision here last weekend. If you saw the collision, call the number. Having a witness can help with insurance claims.