Tag: bike commuting

Long Time No See

After five days without Internet service, I am back at the blog, sounding a bit like Jackie Stewart’s commentary at the winter Olympics, to boot. (It’s a beautiful day here at the blog.) Conditions for bike commuting have been positively eclectic.

Friday’s commute featured a big surprise. I left home early to go to Swings and Friday Coffee Club. I looked for Nancy Duley under the 14th Street Bridge where she has been known to lurk. There were two cyclists there but no Nancy. I continued into the city without incident, pulled into Swings, bought coffee, and sat down at one end of the long table filled with bike commuters. People at the opposite end started yelling for me to come to their end where there was woman with curly hair that I hadn’t seen before. It was Nancy Duley, whom I have never seen without a helmet on. She, of course, fit in perfectly with the gang and had a fine time.

Nancy Duley (left foreground with glasses) at Friday Coffee Club
Nancy Duley (left foreground with glasses) at Friday Coffee Club

Monday’s commute was so uneventful I don’t remember it. When I get into the bike commuting zone, I get into the zone!

Tuesday morning was pretty muggy. Not much happened on the way to work. In the evening I rode shotgun in a Prius to my friend Kate’s (yep, another Kate!) happy hour party at Bar Louie in Penn Quarter. On the way we stopped at the light at Constitution and 15th just as French Braid Kate (no relation to the Bar Louie Kate) rode across the cross walk in front of us. I am not stalking her. Honest.

I had a couple of beers and commiserated with Bar Louie Kate who was celebrating her new job at a new agency. We met during Earth Day activities. We shared a display table, me doing the bike commute thing and she doing the walk commute thing.

I left the bar at 7 and took the subway back to Rosslyn. I changed and headed out on The Mule at 7:20 with an ominous line of clouds just to the west. I didn’t know there was a severe thunderstorm warning in effect. Oops.

It was still light out so I didn’t bother putting my headlight or taillight on. I knew I’d need them for the second half of the commute so I figured I’d stop and put them on when it got dark.

The ride down the Mount Vernon Trail to Old Town began into a headwind. The trail wasn’t crowded and the riding was peaceful. As expected, by the time I reached Old Town Alexandria it was dark out, suspiciously so. What I didn’t realize was that the weather front had blocked out any remaining daylight and moonlight.

I kept rolling right through Old Town. It was dark but I could see just fine. South of Old Town I rolled along the trail when all of a sudden I entered a cloud of gnats that went on for a half mile. It was biblical. I had to keep my mouth closed. They were hefty little bugs, bouncing off my arms, legs and face. I think if I had my headlight on the size of the swarm would have freaked me out. South of Belle Haven Park the darkness was jet black. I had to slow way down.  Seeking street lights, I bailed out on the trail at Tulane Drive, opting to trade the climb up the Park Terrace hill for the blackout.

I noticed that I now had a tailwind. Uh oh.

The good news was the bug swarm was behind me. The bad news was the storm hit. I was drenched in a minute with two miles to go. And the rain was COLD!!! No worries. Pedal, pedal.

I pulled into the Rootchopper Institute and rolled my bike to the backyard  shed. It was so dark I had to fish my cell phone out of my panniers to shed some light the lock on the door. Fortunately, by this time, the rain had stopped. When I got inside the house, I noticed that most of the gnats had been washed off my skin.

In the house, home and wet. Nine o’clock.  All is well.

July by the Numbers

July is one of the peak bike riding months of the year and Big Nellie and I took good advantage of it. For the month I rode 858.5 miles, all but 39 of it on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. The other 39 miles were on The Mule, my Specialized Sequoia. Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, took the month off.

I commuted to work 20 times, 19 on Big Nellie. My total commuting mileage was 565 miles. That’s about 22 gallons of gas or $55+ in my pocket. The rest of the miles were fun rides on the weekend, a total of 260.5 miles. The longest ride was my 109.5 mile ride on Big Nellie to Haute Dogs and Fries in Purcellville.

For the year, I’ve ridden 4,184.5 miles and 100 commutes.

Of course, all this riding takes its toll on my bikes. As I write this, Big Nellie is in dry dock at Bikes at Vienna. She’s getting a new cassette, new chain, new rear tire, new fork, and new cables. I hope to have her back in a week or so to get ready for the fall riding season.

Break These Chains, Felkerino

There used to be a tech education company that advertised it’s certification programs for people chained to dead end jobs with the phrase “Break those chains!” Apparently Big Nellie is feeling frustrated with her role in this whole bike to work thing. About six miles into the ride to work I came to a stop sign at South Franklin and Union Streets in Old Town Alexandria. I stopped a little late as a car came through the intersection from left. I didn’t downshift. When I started up, I pressed hard on the pedal and BANG the chain snapped.

This chain is rather long, about 2 1/2 chains long. It has a long and sordid history. It’s first escapade was attacking my friend Flor’s pants at her farewell party in Meridian Hill Park. About a week later it snapped on the hill to Rosslyn about 1/2 mile from work. It held together for a while then this year it decided to rebel. Three times in the last two months the chain has broken. The first two times the outside plate on a link just flaked off, like it was made out of sugar.  Then today, the link just spontaneously came apart.

So there I was with my nonfunctioning bike and a chain tool on the wet sidewalk of Old Town cussing under the window of a million dollar townhouse in Ford’s Landing. After about 15 minutes of frustration , I called Mrs. Rootchopper for a ride home. While waiting I, of course, reassembled the chain except I twisted it and now my bike had a Mobius strip for a drivetrain. I thought about re-breaking the chain but it occurred to me that the bike gods were sending me a message: GET A F%@KING NEW CHAIN, DUDE!  This is exactly what Felkerino, known around these parts as The Sage of Swings, advised me to do at the last Friday Coffee Club (without the profanity, of course). And, so, it shall be. Big Nellie is going in for a bunch of maintenance on Saturday courtesy of the folks at Bikes at Vienna.

I spent the morning working at home. It poured buckets for about 1 1/2 hours. When the clouds cleared, I headed out on The Mule. With a light tailwind, I made rapid progress, a bad day turned good.

The ride home was better. After struggling to get some sort of rhythm on this bike over many months, I finally got it. The ride home was effortless. Just what I needed. And, somehow, the breathing problems that have been plaguing me for months have disappeared.

One thing that’s bothering me is that the steering on The Mule feels off somehow, like I’m pushing the handlebars to make the bike turn. I suspect that something is wrong with the steerer tube, perhaps damaged in an accident a couple of years ago. Maybe, after 20+ years, it’s time for a new touring bike.

Just Another Boy on the MVT

After yesterday’s bout of miserable chest congestion, I popped an evening Benedryl and my symptoms disappeared in about one hour. I woke up in pretty decent shape and headed out on Big Nellie. I had  little congestion on the way to work but nothing that slowed me down. The weather was once again splendid so no complaints here.

At the office I asked for building maintenance to check my office for mold. They responded within an hour.  They took down ceiling panels and removed my white board from the wall where a leak had occurred,  No sign of mold anywhere. They decided to increase the size of the air return in my office while they were there,

The day went without any noticeable change in my breathing.  I decided not to call the doctor until I had some symptoms to display.

The ride home began with two commuter buses gumming up the traffic (and the bike lane) outside my office. That’s okay Loudonites, your cops can harass cyclists but you don’t respect the laws in Arlington.

I took the right onto the trail that connects the Custis Trail to the Mount Vernon Trail. Paramedics where blocking the trail, preparing to take a man, who appeared to be a runner, out on a stretcher. He apparently had some sort of seizure. A passing bicyclist had called 911 and stayed with him offering moral support.  This is the second time I’ve seen the Arlington paramedics on this section of the trail and I am very impressed with their calm and professionalism.Image

The rest of the ride featured the occasional sprinkle but the skies didn’t look too nasty. At Gravelly Park near National Airport a long line of Mennonites, of all ages, sat along the edge of the trail watching planes taking off and landing. They probably got the idea from Wayne’s World. I liked the look of wonder that I got from a little boy with his straw, wide brimmed hat as Big Nellie and I rolled by. His eyes said “WOW!”Image

The rest of the ride home was a little faster than yesterday. It’s amazing what a little oxygen in your lungs can do for your speed. South of Old Town, I took the Park Terrace and Ridgecrest hill instead of the Mount Vernon Trail. I hit 34 miles per hour on the Park Terrace section this morning. The ride up was about 30 miles per hour slower.

I arrived at home and decided not to water the gardens. Good choice. In 20 minutes the clouds darkened and a downpour commenced. I was inside breathing easy.

The 2013 Bike Commuting Century

After yesterday’s chain problems, I switch over to The Mule, my much neglected Specialized Sequioa steel touring bike. The difference between riding it and Big Nellie, my Tour Easy long wheel base recumbent, was incredible.  I felt like I was somehow riding a big rock with handlebars. Initially, my legs were moving me along at a much faster than normal pace, probably the result of engaging leg muscles that have been in hibernation for months. After about five miles, my pace slowed as my pathetic legs started to wimp out. I was back to my normal 12 miles per hour, my trance speed. Once I lock into the 12 mph groove, I feel like I could ride to Kansas without stopping. I don’t breathe hard. I don’t remember the ride. I arrive and have one of those “how did I get here moments”.

Nothing much happened on the ride in. I saw the Three Step Runner and the Trash Walker, two of my regulars, but nobody else. This is the norm for days when I leave work early, like today when I was headed for Friday Coffee Club.

The weather was splendid so it’s not at all surprising that attendance at Swings House of Java was high. I handed over my third bag of roma tomatoes to Kirstin, who will eat them tonight after killing a deer in Rock Creek Park to satisfy her paleo diet needs. (She uses humane methods: she runs them to death.)

I am the anti-Paleo person. I eat fritters or what I call sugar encrusted pastry bombs and wash them down with coffee. What better way to end the work week than a caffeine-buzzed insulin spike.

I asked Felkerino who does much of his own bike maintenance (in his dining room, no less) about my chain problem. He is usually pretty thrifty so I was expecting him to tell me some clever way to fix the chain and ride it forever, but he quickly advised me to replace the chain. So my plan is to spend some time tomorrow practicing chain link replacements on it which should get me another couple of weeks worth of use out of it. (And possibly a sheepish trip to my local bike store to have them fix my fruits of my mechanical ineptitude.)  Near the end of August, I will take it in to my not-so-local recumbent store for some major repairs (new chain, new chainrings, new cassette, new cables, etc.)

The ride home was a slog. My body and The Mule were not in general agreement as to proper propulsion mechanics. And my butt hurt.  I think it’s time to buy a new saddle. My Brooks Champion Flyer is starting to look like a sling. Normally, I’d tighten the leather up using the adjustment screw, but it’s been broken for a couple of years.

I arrived at Casa Rootchopper to throngs of cheering fans. They were celebrating my 100th bike commute of 2013.. A bike commuting century!  They ran alongside me as I made my way up the street to my house shouting “Allez! Allez!” and patting my back.

Okay, the part about the 100th bike commute is true, but I was greeted at home by the cat that eats the birds off my bird feeder. The cat was running fast around my house. He had been flushed out from under my daughter’s car by my neighbor’s dog Amy who was standing on my front lawn with what looked like a “Heh, heh, heh” snicker on her face. I don’t think she was aware of the neighborhood cycling history that was being made.

Fried Surly Tomatoes

Our heat wave continues. Of course, that’s no reason not to ride my bike to work. And so I did. It’s Friday which means I got up early for Friday Coffee Club at Swings House of Fritters near the White House.

I left at 6:25, way too early, especially considering my attendance at Bike Arlington’s Happy Hour yesterday evening. There’s not a whole lot going on at 6:30 in the morning, so it was just me, Big Nellie, and gallons of sweat. Pedal, pedal.

I saw the Trash Walker near the airport, but he was my only regular du jour. I looked for Nancy Duley under the 14th Street bridge, but she was back in her sumptuous estate in tony Hollin Hall running her AC at 11.

Despite the weather and the fact that we sat outside, Friday Coffee Club was hopping. Ed and Mary had returned from bike touring the high mountains of Colorado. They were still in vacation withdrawal looking just a tad thinner than usual and sporting the kind of smiles only an awesome vacation can paint on your face. Good to have them back.

I carried some extra cargo to Swings today. We have a tomato plant that is producing an insane amount of fruit. Katie beat Lisa to claiming my surplus inventory so I presented her with a bag of ‘toes. This is only fair since Katie stood in the cold of early March to staff a rest stop in Potomac during the Vasa ride. Thanks, Katie.

IMG_0329
Katie and Her Stash O’Toes

Kirsten showed up on her new Surly Long Haul Trucker. Talk about a happy camper. She LOVES her new bike. It fits her like a glove. I must say that I have serious new bike envy.  I’d go out an buy one myself, but that might start a chain reaction that would cause my bank account and my shed to explode. You see, I have bent lust too. And trike lust. It’s a disease, I tell you.

Image
Lisa, Surly, and Kirsten

At happy hour last night, Shawn was talking about bringing shears to trim back the overgrown vegetation on the TR bridge. He and another cyclist (who’s name shouldn’t escape me but does) were out on the bridge in the heat and humidity working away.  Nice going, guys.

For the ride home, I had a surprisingly strong headwind. Normally, this is refreshing, but tonight it was just more hot sticky air over my skin. I am taking the weekend off from cycling. When I get back to it on Monday, the heat wave should be over. Ahhh!!!

June: No Century. No Problem.

I finished off June today with a 22 mile ride on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. The repaired chain seems to be working fine. I did notice when installing new brake pads yesterday that my front fork has some surface rust on it. I think I’ll replace it when I swap out the chain and drive train.

It was a pretty busy month. My daughter graduated from high school. All eyes are now on late August when she starts a new chapter in our lives when she heads west to Butler University in Indianapolis. I missed several days of riding dealing with graduation and other family events. I still managed to ride 672 miles. 508 ½ of those miles were aboard Big Nellie. The big hoss has become my go-to bike this summer. The Mule, my old Specialized Sequoia touring bike, came in with 125 miles, all while riding to work. Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, got light use with only 38.5 miles.

I rode to work 16 times, 11 on Big Nellie, 4 on The Mule and once on Little Nellie. My longest ride of the month was 64 miles on Big Nellie in Prince Georges County, Maryland.

For the year, I have 3,526 miles with 82 bike commutes.

I haven’t signed up for any fall rides this year. I will probably do the Southern Maryland Century and the 50 States Ride again. Once the kids go to college, I may jump in the car and go for some long rides in the boonies. That’s what they’re there for.

Riding with Mr. Moonlight

Since it is the longest day of the year, it makes sense to go all in on activities. The day started with splendid weather. It was actually sweater weather when I woke up. (This is especially odd since it was 100 degrees on the same day last year.) The day quickly warmed up to the comfortable 80s. Ahhh.

I left home early despite staying up late to watch the NBA finals. On six hours of sleep, I rode Big Nellie into town. The Mount Vernon Trail is just indescribably nice on summer mornings like this. I left about a half hour early so most of my regulars were still messing with visions of sugarplums. The Trash Walker, however, was doing his thing, keeping me on my toes. Under the 14th Street Bridge, Nancy Duley stood next to her bike. This is as far as she goes, like there is a force field just beyond. It would be interesting to see her bounce off the force field while riding. BOING.

She was turning around after escorting Mr. Nancy Duley most of the way to his office in DC. Next time, I am taking her through the force field and into the city. I have to figure out how to get through the barrier because I can’t use my bicycle death ray. It turns out death rays are illegal. Who knew? We’ll breach the barrier somehow.

Friday Coffee Club was once again a men’s only affair for the first hour or so. Kirstin (@ultrarunnergirl) showed up to liven things up a bit. Then, as always, we went our separate ways to earn a buck. Crossing the TR Bridge, the river looked beautiful, the breeze felt splendid, and the skies were blue. I went to work anyway.

After work my son and I took Metro to Nationals Park to watch a ballgame. It was on of my Fathers Day gifts. Our seats were on the lower level behind the third base dugout. As Wayne Campbell would say, “Excellent.” I resisted the urge to yell, “Let’s go! EXPOS!!!” through out the game. (This whole Nationals thing is a charade. They should wear those goofy looking Expos hats a few times a game. Maybe even have the announcers repeat everything en francais.)

The game was a pitching duel with Steven Strasburg striking out 9 in 7 innings. The highlight of the game came when my son and I, singing like a couple of eunuchs, hit the high note of “Take On Me” during the seventh inning stretch. We were tempted to start singing “Staying Alive” in faux Bee Gee falsettos, but thought better of it. (Another beer, though, and I would have gone for it.)

Well, the Expos won and we made our way back to Rosslyn to retrieve the car and Big Nellie. We were prepared to put the bike on the back of the car and call it a night, but the weather was perfect and I was not the least bit tired. So my son drove home and I hit the Mount Vernon Trail.

It was the summer solstice. I expected to find all kinds of Shakespearean characters along the way but only saw 6 cyclists. Three were riding without lights. When I had a solitary stretch of the trail, I turned my headlight off. The moon was intense!  Big and nearly full. Combined with the clear skies it was casting a glow on the river and the greenery along the trail. It looked almost as if someone had sprayed silver on the grass and leaves and water.

I cruised along at 12 miles per hour taking in the views and making sure to keep my mouth shut so as not to take in the bugs. I arrived home at 12:30 ready to call it a day.

Thank you, Mr. Moonlight.

Ray Allen, Leave Me Alone

I stayed up past midnight watching an NBA finals game. Ray Allen hit a shot for Miami which prolonged the game annoyingly. I woke up on 5 ½ hours of sleep. Not ideal commuting 14+ miles on a bike.

Big Nellie was back in action, if you can call it that. I was a zombie on wheels. Thankfully, the weather was splendid;  I didn’t much mind the headwind.

Three regulars made appearances in the morning. Hardware Store Man came rolling by south of Beltway. Lately, he’s been doing a lot of gliding. Trash Walker showed up near Washington Marina. He had a full back of garbage. Why do people litter on the trail? After a day off, French Braid Kate made an appearance near the airport. Lovely as usual.

As I made my way past the pinch point between the airport fence and the Parkway, a superb specimen of cycling stupidity made a close pass. He’s a fair weather commuter on a road bike wearing a back pack. His mountain bike shorts sagged nearly treating me to a view of his ass crack. He passed on a blind curve as a bike approached from the opposite direction. I veered into the brush overhanging the side of the trail, just managing to stay on the pavement. If you are, by chance, reading this, be advised. The next time you pull a stunt like that I am going to hock a loogie in your general direction.

Rains came but passed through just before I left work. Shawn (@shawnofthedread) came rolling by on his way to the Custis Trail in Rosslyn. He waved. Yo. Broken Ankle man came by a mile later near the airport. His right foot is severely toed in as if his ankle was broken and never reset. WABA mom came tootling by. She wears a WABA cycling shirt and has an unoccupied trail-a-bike attached to her bike.

The rest of the ride was regular-free. The trip through Belle Haven Park was smelly. It’s taking a long time for the park to dry out. The ducks don’t mind but humans are having a hard go of using about ⅓ of the park.

When I got home, my son told me that we are watching the Bruins-Blackhawks Stanley Cup game tonight.  What’s slower than a zombie? Tomorrow we’ll find out.

Kono Coffee

The weatherman warned of nothing but sprinkles for my ride to work. It sounded like a good day for me to wear sandals and ride Big Nellie to Friday Coffee Club. I stepped out of the house ready to go when the sprinkles became a steady rain. Urgh! I prefer to ride The Mule in the rain so I went back into the house to put on some cycling shoes and a vest. Back outside, I saddled up and headed for DC.

I’d only ridden 6 or 7 miles since Sunday. Biking with fresh legs is joy. The pedals seem to go round automatically. I could hear the gears make a buzzing sound. Pedal, pedal, buzz. Riding up North Royal Street in Old Town Alexandria I watched as a young girl broke away from an older girl and dashed across the street in front of the SUV that I was behind. The SUV stopped and the girl made the crossing unharmed. She had a sheepish look on her face that made it clear that she knew she had done something foolish. As I rode past, I told her “Don’t do that again!” I hope she remembers. SUVs make for unpleasant pedestrian experiences.

Trash Walker said hello as I passed him near the airport. It must be good to be retired and healthy.

I crossed Maine Avenue and something seemed different. It wasn’t until I saw a tweet from Katie later that I realized that the terrible rutted and potholed road surfaced and been repaired.

I arrived at Swings to see the early birds already in attendance. As usual most of the Friday Coffee Club folks in attendance were guys except for Lisa who usually leaves before I arrive and Kel who I haven’t seen in quite a while.  Chris rode his monster bike. I forgot to get a picture. The tires are so wide that I couldn’t get my hand around the tread. (As the owner of a clown bike and a rolling lawn chair, I am in no position to make disparaging remarks about his choice of two-wheeled transpo.)  A few months ago Jesse was visiting from Seattle. He was back today with the news that he had moved to DC.  Welcome to the madhouse!

Felkerino arrived on his massively impressive CoMotion tandem with his daughter riding in the stoker seat. Then one by one women began arriving. It was a cascade of femininity, the likes of which the Coffee Club has not seen in ages. Reba, Rachel, Mary, Kristin, Katie, Kirsten, and Kate (making it a 2-Kate Coffee extravaganza) all grabbed a seat. Somehow Mike and Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon sneaked in undetected.  Even with satellite versions of Friday Coffee Club now operating in the burbs, we were overflowing with cheerful faces.

Finally, our guest of honor arrived. Lauren (@lkono), a Coffee Club fixture from early on (which is to say last spring), moved to Dublin last fall to go to grad school. I am ever impressed with how she can bike around this city dressed in stylish clothing and not look the least bit disheveled when she arrives at Swings. (I ride ten feet and I look like I slept in  a ditch all night.) She’s only here for a couple of days before jetting off to do field work in rural Brazil. (Lauren, can I have your life please?)  Suffice it to say, we were all happy to see her. Felkerino took a picture of Lauren and me. (Lauren, can I have your bangs while we’re at it.)

After Coffee Club I still have a couple of miles to go to get to the office back in Virginia. The Teddy Roosevelt Bridge has become my route of choice. I was passed by two inbound cyclists who didn’t register with my brain. I think they were Shawn and Mark, who have both been known to appear at Swings on Fridays.

The ride home was marked by the usual car hassles in the Rosslyn Circle of Death (RCOD). Two cars, one in the left-most lane and one in the center lane, were about to take right turns on red, directly in front of me. I yelled at both and they stopped but not before fully obstructing the crosswalk and curb cut I use to get onto the bike path. (Bitch about scofflaw cyclists all you want, but I can show you some seriously dangerous drivers on a daily basis in the RCOD.)

There are few things more life affirming than a tailwind on the ride home on a Friday night. The Mule and I felt like Dave Stoller and his racing bike. I could almost hear the overture to Rossini’s Barber of Seville. (You’ll note that I felt like Dave Stoller, but The Mule does not follow semis doing 60.)

The Mount Vernon Trail was somewhat crowded, mostly with bike riders going too fast and not announcing their passes. It won’t be long before I see another rider on the ground from this stupidity.

At Gravelly Point a man sat under a tree and played his trumpet  Bike  commuting is often made better when you have musical accompaniment.

Down near home, the Mount Vernon Trail merges with Northdown Road. Road construction crews are busy rebuilding the road. It needed it because it was nothing but one bumpy patch after another.

Tomorrow I hope to get out for a long ride in the country. This will require getting out of bed early which seems dubious in light of the fact that it is 12:45 as I type this.

Buona notte, Fellini.