Easy Does It

Last week I did a good bit of mileage on my bike. On Sunday, I rode 60 miles at the Southern Maryland Century at Indian Head Maryland. Then I did my usual 150+ miles of bike commuting during the week. That’s over 210 miles in six days for those of you with dyscalculia.

The weather this weekend was spectacular, very reminiscent of early fall in New England and upstate New York where I spent most of the first half of my life. Time to knock out some long rides. Or not.

Next weekend I have two rides scheduled: the 50 States Ride and the Backroads Century. The 50 States Ride is a little over 60 miles entirely within the confines of Washington DC. It may be 60 something miles on the odometer but it feels much more like 100. It’s quite hilly and there are scores of stops and starts as riders wend their way through the city. The next morning I will awaken around 5 a.m. and drive to Berryville Virginia (after a short diversion into DC to pick up a passenger). There  I will ride a metric century, another 60 plus miles, over beautiful country roads. I did these rides back-to-back last year so I know what I am in for. Two-wheeled bliss.

As usual, I plan on riding all five days to work this week which should total about 150 miles before Saturday. So riding straight through next weekend would mean that I’d have way over 400 miles of cycling without a break. That’s a recipe for a really lousy experience next weekend at best and overuse injuries at worst.

Many years ago I was a distance runner. At one point I got up to 70 miles per week, even doing 84 miles in a week once.  With that much running it was inevitable that I was going to get hurt. And I did. My longest mileage for a year was 3,000 miles which comes out to fewer than 60 miles per week.  Once I realized that I was averaging 60 miles per week, it occurred to me that I should just lower my weekly mileage to 60 miles and take one day off per week. And two weeks off per year. I saw no drop off in my running performance at all.  And my legs were much happier. During this time, I also tried to find out how many days in a row I could run a minimum of five miles. I don’t recall how many days I did but it wasn’t many before my body told me to stop.

I’ve carried these running lessons over to my bike riding. If I notice that I’ve ridden ten days in a row, I take a day off, even if the weather is nice. So that’s what I did yesterday.   Even though the weather was perfect.

Today I did a 33 1/2 mile ride on flat terrain. I deliberately took it easy.  It was very tempting to go out and ride 60, 70, 80 or more miles.

That’s for next weekend.

New Bridge on the Mount Vernon Trail

After many weeks, the National Park Service finally finished replacing three bridges on the Mount Vernon Trail today. All three are located just south of the Dyke Marsh bridge and north of Northdown Road. The workers did a nice job and trail users will be happy that they no longer have to deal with two detours.

Radar Love

Bike tourists love maps. They pour over them before their trips and imagine lovely country roads with barns and cows and Mail Pouch tobacco signs. They don’t give much thought to steep hills and dogs while doing this because it’s all about imaging the perfect tour. On my 2003 tour from Indiana to DC, I carried an absurd number of maps, most of which I mailed home after a few days.

Bike commuters are radar junkies. Today, the forecast was for afternoon storms. If you’re going to slog through puddles and mud, you ought to be riding a mule. So, The Mule got the call. The morning ride was enjoyable with a nice tailwind and warm temperatures.

At noon, I checked the radar. I kept checking it throughout the afternoon. I was stuck in a meeting in my boss’s office but he has a nice few to the north and west. The skies looked pretty ominous. From 3:30 on I kept refreshing the radar on my computer. I wasn’t getting a whole lot of work done, so I packed up my bags at 4:30, a little earlier than usual, and headed out. My last radar check showed that the heavy rain was a couple miles west and north.

I didn’t factor in the delay in posting the radar. I hit the street with a reflective vest and my head and tail lights shining. The rain had just begun. I managed to catch a red light and the rain intensified while I waited. By the time I turned onto the Mount Vernon Trail for the ride to the southeast, it was pouring. The raindrops were big and long. They caught the light of my headlight and looked like silvery fish. I was riding through bait.

Within a mile I was completely soaked. Once you’re wet, you’re wet. You might as well keep riding, that way you’ll at least stay warm.

It was raining so hard that I was actually getting a drink from the water pouring down my face as a I rode. It was a nice bonus, but the nicer bonus was the strong tailwind pushing me down the trail. In fact the only downside to riding in the downpour was the stinging in my eyes. It’s a good idea to wear a cycling cap in rainstorms to keep the water out of your eyes. My cap was back home. One of these days I’ll get around to buying few more.

Riding blind in a down pour isn’t all that dangerous when you know the path ahead. I’ve ridden the Mount Vernon Trail a couple thousand times at least so I wasn’t about to veer off the pavement.

Under the 14th Street bridge, their are three huge downspouts that carry the rain from the roadway above straight down onto the trail. (Proving once again that trail users get no respect.) There was so much water gushing down that the flow of water looked like waterfalls.

As usual, there were several people under the bridge waiting out the storm. Judging from the radar they were in for a long wait.

About 100 yards south of the bridge, the rainfall slowed. The farther south I went, the lighter the rain. In fact, it didn’t pick up again until I was about 1/2 mile from home.

I pulled in to my yard soaked to the bone. My saddle and pants and shoes were all making squishing sounds. Rather than feeling miserable I was chuffed. Sometime after your tenth birthday, you lose track of the fact that playing in the rain is a lot of fun.

No rain tomorrow. My liquid refreshment will be a jumbo coffee at Swings near the White House.

Kelly on the Run

Kelly on the Run by Rootchopper
Kelly on the Run, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

There I was riding Big Nellie, about half way to work, enjoying a tailwind. I ride past a runner as I do dozens of times every week. As I went past, I heard the runner say, “Hi, John.”

I must be famous! Again.

I slowed down and waited for the runner to catch up. It was Kelly who works in my office. (So much for that fame thing.)

Kelly recently did her first bike commute. (Tres awesome, Kelly.) Today, she was running the ten miles to work to get ready for her first half marathon.

It was pretty muggy out and she was working hard. As a former marathoner, I can say that she had the form and the pace down pat.

She later told me that she has been having difficulty running beyond 8 miles. This is pretty typical of distance running. You hit these barriers that seem impregnable, then, all of a sudden, they aren’t there any more. I hit barriers at one mile, three miles, five miles, seven miles, 12 miles, and 20 miles. I never did solve the 23-mile wall where a bear jumps your back and claws your thighs.

Kelly hit a wall of her own at about 9 miles, about a mile from work. The last mile includes the climb up to Rosslyn, so I am sure it wasn’t much fun. Hell, it wasn’t a whole lot of fun for me. I haven’t been sleeping well the last couple of nights and my legs are sore. I am pretty sure that the pace I set during Sunday’s metric century was a tad too brisk.

The ride home had no surprised other than unseasonable 3Hs – heat, humidity and headwinds. Not that I am complaining. Give me this weather any day over the cold winds of March.

Big Nellie Turns 34

Big Nellie Turns 34 by Rootchopper
Big Nellie Turns 34, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

For the first couple if miles on the way to work this morning, I was distracted by a rattling front fender. I stopped to fix it and took off again. After 3 more miles. I realized that I had just missed another milestone. 34,000 miles on the odometer.

I left for work about 30 minutes earlier than usual so I was pretty groggy. Yesterday’s 60 mile ride took some bounce out of my legs so I was also sloggy. Groggy and sloggy is no way to start a work week. Add a headwind and you’re looking at a sloooowww ride.

A guy from Friday Coffee Club (I forgot his name cuz I was groggy) blew by me without breaking a sweat. Coming off the second flyover bridge at National Airport, I started to pass a wedgie rider (wedgie’s are what bent people call regular bikes). I got around him and there was a bike coming right at me. Good thing it was Justin from Friday Coffee Club. Although maybe not, since his new baby lets him have only about 2 hours of continuous sleep each night.

After a very busy day at work, I headed for home into another headwind. (Was it uphill both ways too?) I was a bit worried about the massive traffic heading to the Redskins home opener but then I remembered, I’m on a trail not one of the highways headed to the stadium. HA. HA.

I gloated the rest of the way home. Near the stone bridge on the parkway I saw a truck on the side of the road. It appeared to have a giant piece of sheet metal sticking out the back. The sheet metal was actually the top of the truck which was just a tad too tall for the bridge underpass. This happens two or three times per year. Yet another tragedy of distracted driving.

Punked by a Stag at Indian Head

Today was the day for the Southern Maryland 100 bike ride. The ride begins and ends in Indian Head Maryland. There’s not much there but a navy installation. I’ve done the metric century (100 kilometers) several times before. It’s a lovely place to ride and only about 40 minutes from my house by car.

I rode Big Nellie today. The weather was as good as it could be for bike riding. I took a cue sheet but I didn’t need it. I just followed the green arrows on the road.

This ride is put on by the Oxon Hill Cycling Club. They do a wonderful job of staffing the rest stops with interesting food. The first stop had English muffin sandwiches with ham, eggs and salsa. Also, peanut butter sammiches!  The next stop had enthusiastic junior high (or maybe high school) kids cheering us as we rode in. Their special treat was tomato and mayo sammiches. I couldn’t resist. The last rest stop had cherry slushies and veggie sticks (sort of like potato sticks but more better).

The terrain is not very difficult. Oh, there are maybe 10 hills to climb but none of them harder than the Park Terrace hill near my home. Of course, on a recumbent, you get passed by lots of roadies going up. Going down is another story; I hit 37 miles per hour on one downhill and reached the mid-30s on the rest.  Too bad I didn’t have my fairing on.

The riders were very respectful of each other. The lycra pacelines announced their passes and gave me plenty of room. This is not the case at Backroads (my only complaint about a ride that I love).  People said “Good morning” as they passed or chatted about how nice a day it was.

I needed to get back home to take care of a few things so I didn’t socialize or hang out at the rest areas. The last big hill is called Rose Hill. Even the roadies were flagging on this one. I had stayed out of my granny gear all day, but I dropped into it on Rose Hill. I was surprised at how good my legs felt near the top. I down shifted and passed a bunch of wedgie (that’s recumbent speak for a conventional bike) riders just before the top of the hill.  After 33,998 miles, I’m starting to get the hang of this recumbent thing.

I had plenty left in the tank when I got to the finish. I could easily have ridden the century. I am downloading the cue sheet for the 100 mile ride for future use.

When I got back to my car, my rear window had been defaced, or besmirched, or disrespected. My kids attended the Maret School for high school. I have a Maret sticker on my back window, but it was covered with a sign from a Dematha person.  In nature, stags crush frogs, but in DC, FROGS RULE.

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Sunrise and Segway

Shorts and a t-shirt are so two days ago. Yesterday, I took off from home on Big Nellie in complete denial which is to say I wore sandals, a t-shirt, and shorts. Not bike shorts, just regular old, wear-around-the-house shorts. The 55 degree/12 mile per hour breeze on my arms and up my pants was rather…um…invigorating. The 30 mile per hour ride down the Park Terrace hill woke my ass right up. Literally.

Today, I pulled out some arm warmers which cut my morning thrill in half, I suppose. Then came the Park Terrace Hill. Hello, sailor!

Since I left early so that I would be on time for our scintillating annual office strategy and planning meeting, I arrived at Dyke Marsh just in time for a pretty awesome sunrise. So I stopped and took a picture.

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Then it was back to the commute. A nice little tailwind pushed me along. After I passed through Old Town, I spotted a guy in a tan suit with a manbag riding a Segway. It isn’t often that an old Fred like me on a recumbent sees somebody who is considerably dorkier looking. It’s pretty impossible to ride a Seqway in a suit without looking like an escapee from Camp Devo. Of course, young women who give Segway tours to DC tourists look impossibly cool and sexy on them. (He says to cover his ass the next time he runs into Rachel who used to give Segway tours. My motto is: Be kind to women with power tools.)

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The rest of my ride was dork-free (myself excluded).

After a day of strategerific coffee-less meetings, I was back on the bent and headed for home with my second tailwind of the day. Big Nellie is feeling her oats now that she has a new chain and cassette.

Ready to launch to Friday Coffee Club in the morning.

Above the Fold Today, Beneath the Parrot Tomorrow

Well, it has certainly been an interesting day. It actually all started a month or so ago.

I saw a notice online that a Washington Post reporter was looking to talk to people who commuted by bike on the Mount Vernon Trail. I sent my contact information and, within a few days, found myself talking to Pat Sullivan, a reporter for the paper of record in these parts.

Pat and I talked about my commute, what I liked about it and didn’t. I gave her the URL of this blog and that was that. A couple of weeks went by and there was no article. Just as I thought the article had been round filed, I received an email from Pat asking if she could talk to me again.

Pat had written an article about bike commuting in general and her editor wanted a more personal angle. So I found myself on the phone with her again. Since the previous call, Pat had gone to school on the trail. She knew the milestones, the pinch points and other characteristics and nuances of the trail from one end to the other.  This

conversation was much more focused on the good and the bad of my commute. How the headlights from the cars on the adjacent George Washington Memorial Parkway can blind winter commuters, how ninjas pose a hazard to themselves and other trail users, and how the Rosslyn Circle of Death is my bête noire (by which I do not mean a Bryan Ferry record). Part of the discussion involved the automatic counters that are positioned at intervals along the trail. (I had always thought that these were inactive as they emit no light or sound and have no obvious power source.)

A few more weeks went by. I went out of town this weekend to deliver my son’s stuff to his college apartment in upstate New York. I arrived home last night after ten, tired from eight plus hours of driving in busy Labor Day traffic and wired from way too much caffeine. Not being able to sleep I surfed the net for an hour and there it was., just posted on the Washington Post website, an article about the traffic and traffic counters on the Mount Vernon Trail. I clicked on the link and the first two words of the article were my name!  Eek!!

When I opened the paper in the morning there it was, a huge article with pictures and an infographic. Sheesh!! And there was my name above the fold!!

I rode my bike to work very cautiously. Wouldn’t it be a scream if I crashed the day of the article? Nothing bad happened. The Three Step Runner was cruising down Park Terrace drive. Traffic was suspiciously light on the GWMP.  Small waves on the river were lapping the riverbank. Just another day on the MVT.

My Office Door This Morning
My Office Door This Morning

I arrived at work to find the article posted on my office door with my name circled. I checked my Facebook page and Twitter feed. There were many kind words said. My sarcastic (I hope) daughter Lily had the comment of the day: “What a loser. He should just buy a car.” Have a nice 12-hour bus ride home for Thanksgiving, Lil.

The ride home tonight was a blast. Big Nellie, a tailwind, and fresh legs made for a brisk pace. What a terrific day.

Then it occurred to me. Tomorrow, I am yesterday’s news. My name will be at the bottom of some parrot’s cage, with bird poop on it.

Fame is fleeting.

August by the Numbers

I have to say that I am a little surprised by my riding in August. I missed five days because of a car trip to Indiana. With the 26 other days of the month, I kept my stable of bikes pretty busy. I rode to work 18 out of 18 days (not counting one day of telecommuting). My parking space at work has grown some cobwebs this summer. (I haven’t used it since mid-June.) I had a false start with one commute when the chain on Big Nellie broke 6 miles from home. 

All but one of my 18 commutes were aboard The Mule. Big Nellie had the other one. Big Nellie spent most of the month in dry dock, because its manufacturer twice screwed up sending a replacement fork. First, they sent the fork to the wrong bike shop. (I am told by Tim at Bikes at Vienna that this isn’t the first time they have confused his shop with this particular other one. ) Then the sent a second fork to the right shop, but it was the wrong size. If not for Tim’s intervention, they’d be unaware that their inventory is messed up.

I did some casual rides, two of which were metric centuries (around 62 miles). One was aboard Little Nellie, the second was the Hoppy 100.

I rode 563 miles just getting to and from work. I did another 218 miles on the weekends. That’s a total of 781 miles for the month, and 4,444 for the year.  I ridden to work 119 times.