Tag: #bikedc

The Cider Ride: Fourth Time Is a Charm

Yesterday was the fourth annual Cider Ride, the last ride of the year for WABA, the Washington Area Bicyclist Association. The Cider Ride was the creation of Michelle Cleveland whose mission in life is to see me die of exhaustion, nasty weather, and other calamities while on a bike. I am happy to report that she failed again.

Michelle handed the reins for this ride over to Nick Russo. Every so often, a really good baseball team gets a new manager. Success is defined by not screwing a good thing up. Nick succeeded. This is partly because he went into the basement of WABA’s World Headquarters and disabled the WABA weather machine which is notorious for dialing up hurricanes, freezing rain, swamp heat, and tsunamis.

The first Cider Ride took us to the wilds of Prince Georges County, Maryland in early December. It was cold. The roads were bumpy and the drivers were somewhat impatient. One of them ran over a friend of mine. So it was decided to move the ride to Montgomery County, Maryland. This ride was colder than the previous ride plus it had wind and rain. Most people cut their rides short. I took the sag wagon. (Thanks Gina!)

Then somebody got the great idea to move the ride up a month to November and to make use of all the trails running through the Anacostia River watershed. Genius! Pretty fall foliage plus minimal car traffic made for a vastly improved experience. It also imported a tradition from WABA’s 50 States Ride: the impossibly complicated cue sheet. WABA’s  motto: “Getting lost is part of the fun!”

(Actual cue written by Michelle Cleveland: “Just after the little intersection but before the traffic light, take a right on the sidewalk. Avoid the light poles, loose concrete, and accumulated sand while you thread your way under the darkest overpass ever constructed until you take a right to take a left at a the Walker Road traffic light. May god have mercy on your soul.” Michelle’s motto: “I have nothing to offer but my own confusion.”)

Last year’s ride was mighty fine. I got lost. I had fun. And donuts. And pie. And I got a mug. This year’s ride was the same except that in the weeks before the ride, a new section of the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail opened up. So the route was revised adding 5 more miles of complexity and confusion. Brilliant!!!

With no rain, calmish winds, and temperatures holding in the 50s the ride was a pleasant meander. Riders stopped to adjust their clothing. The cool air was just that sort of in between temperature that gives autumn bike commuters fits. The discomfort was minor. The foliage was major! Peak!

We endured the blinding colors.

After riding the streets of Northeast DC we hopped on the older Anacostia trails and headed north along the river. In College Park we stopped at Proteus Bikes where hot cider and doughnuts awaited. Next, we passed through the low traffic roads of the Agricultural Research complex and the National Wildlife Federation facility near Beltsville Maryland.

We headed back south and toured Greenbelt Maryland, a planned community dating to the New Deal. At a rest stop in a Greenbelt park we inhaled pie and hot cocoa. Also, a yellowjacket stung my right middle finger. It swelled up so much it was useless against obnoxious drivers for the rest of the day. (Actually, it didn’t swell up and I abstained from using my BSL, bicyclist sign language, for the duration of the ride.)

Somewhere on the return through Riverdale Maryland I lost my cue sheet. This was Michelle’s fault because I blame her for everything. Actually, I had lost my cue sheet holder thingie and forgot to bring a binder clip. So I was pulling the cue sheet out of my vest pocket throughout the ride until I apparently missed when I went to put it back in. Derp.

I followed the slowest group that ever remained upright on bicycles to another rest stop at a bakery where I hooked up with another more faster group that I hoped was going my way. It was.

We made our way to the brand spanking new section of the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail. Bravo to WABA for adding this to the route. This trail rivals the Mount Vernon Trail and the W &OD Trail west of Leesburg for scenery. Fortunately the riders ahead of me knew where to get off the trail (Benning Road) so that we could make our way to the finish. I overheard one of them say “C Street” before they rode away. No worries. I decided to take C to the 1st Street cycletrack to the Metropolitan Branch Trail. Two riders who were unsure of the route gave me their cue sheet and it confirmed that my route exactly matched the official route.

And so we rode the last few miles together.

I arrived at the finish at the Dew Drop Inn rather exhausted. Here’s why:

  • Monday and Tuesday – 30 mile commutes
  • Wednesday – fast, as in no food, 30 mile commute
  • Thursday – colonoscopy
  • Friday – 30 mile commute
  • Saturday – 36 mile ride
  • Sunday – 26 mile ride
  • Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday – 30 mile commutes
  • Cider Ride.

Suffice it to say that my legs were dead throughout the ride. But I still had a good time. And I got to see several #bikedc friends during the ride and at the after party at the Dew Drop.

After four years, the Cider Ride has really hit its stride. It’s an excellent addition to the Vasa Ride in March and the 50 States Ride in September.

Many thanks to the the volunteers, the providers of snackage and cider and cocoa. Special thanks to Nick for his hard work. And to Michelle, the Ginsberg of cue sheets, who I kid relentlessly and admire intensely.

 

 

How the Grinch Stole Blinkiemas

About this time every year, various local groups hand out free bike lights. It’s like early Christmas for Trail Ninjas. I thought this would begin next week with the end of daylight savings time. I was pleasantly surprised to see people handing out lights at the intersection between the Crystal City connector trail and the Mount Vernon Trail last night. The giveaway was sponsored by the Crystal City Business Improvement District.

Last year at this site the CCBID bike light elves were rousted by the Grinches from National Park Service Police because they didn’t have a permit. This year, a Park Service person was helping to hand the lights out. You could practically hear Whos singing.

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Some time ago WABA started reaching out to the Park Service in the hopes of making it more bike friendly. Looks like it’s working. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that WABA’s Director Greg Billing and Deputy Director Nelle Pierson were on hand for the giveaway last night.

I believe that there are more light giveaways next week. There is one at the Intersection of Doom in Rosslyn on Monday night.

And WABA announced these giveaways last night.

If you already have bike lights, change the batteries this weekend.

 

Brain Squirrels on the Trail

  • Since Monday I’ve ridden 150 miles. Just riding back and forth to work. The Cider Ride is tomorrow. They added a few miles to it. Now it’s over 50 miles. I think I’m gonna need a bigger doughnut.
  • I did my 150th bike commute of 2016 on Tuesday. One of my commutes was done on 4 hours of sleep thanks to the Cubs. I am now prepared for when the Nats win it all next November.
  • I have 300 days to go before I retire. Not that I am counting down the days or anything. When I became eligible to retire a few years ago, I took all the plaques and awards that I had received over my career and threw them away.
  • There are 15o days to go before opening day at Nats Park.
  • A numerologist would wet his pants reading this blog post.
  • The number of sightings of #bikedc commuters  I know is declining. This week only Lawyer Mike and Shawn. I saw Hoppy Runner this morning though.
  • The foliage is pretty awesome this week. I haven’t taken a single picture. Others are doing a much better job of it.
  • I am not riding to work at all next week. This is not a protest. I will be away on business travel.DC to Palo Alto is a little beyond my bike commuting comfort zone.
  • I forgot a password at work. I called our IT help desk. They said, “Just keep guessing.” After some research online, I ended up doing just that. Only when I gave up and guessed my very first computer password (on which most of my subsequent complex passwords are based) did I hit the jackpot. When I retire, I am going to become an IT desk professional.
  • My boss used to use the word “oublier” as a password. It’s French for “to forget.”
  • Nick Hornby is one of my favorite authors. He also reviews books. He once observed that there are well-written books that are not read well. You know the kind that everyone says is the greatest but it doesn’t do a thing for you. For me, The Great Gatsby falls into this not well read category.
  • A friend of mine is like a good book that I don’t read well anymore. The first 7 chapters were a great read. The last 2 not so much. No matter I how much I re-read them, they don’t work for me at all anymore. I was hoping chapter 10 would turn things around. No luck. It’s very discouraging.
  • Friendship is a one-way street in Providence. I am not making this up.
  • I watched a video that claims Donald Trump is illiterate. I disagree. Based on the video and personal experience, I am pretty sure that he is severely dyslexic. As it turns out, many executives are dyslexic. From an early age they learn how to manipulate people to do things on their behalf.

Happenings and Other Random Nonsense

  •  I was nearly hit less than a quarter mile from home tonight. I saw it coming. The car was coming from a side street to my right. The driver was looking to her right, away from me. When she saw she had no cars coming from the right, she started her left hand turn, directly into my path. I turned to her, shined my helmet-mounted light right into her eyes, and said in a very loud and measured way “WHAT…THE…FUCK….ARE…..YOU…DOOOO….ING?” She stopped abruptly. Then she honked her horn at me. I guess she felt embarrassed at her own incompetence. Better her red face than my dead face.
  • What would she have done if I were a truck instead of a bike? I guess it would depend on how quickly her ambulance arrived.
  • Yesterday, I had a close encounter with a deer for the second time in a week on the Mount Vernon Trail. It’s that time of year. Seeing deer up close is disconcerting. Not nearly as freaky as a kangaroo though.
  • Tonight I saw a once well-known, local corporate executive running on the trail near Rosslyn. He sued his father in a dispute over the family business. He always looks like he just bit into a lemon. Every time I see him I wonder what his karma will be.
  • I often see a local sportscaster/play by play man on the trail running north as I head south toward Old Town. He was my son’s baseball coach freshman year in high school. The way he interacted with umpires cracked me up. Instead of yelling and getting mad, he’d calmly walk toward the ump, wag his finger, shake his head, and say in a quiet voice: “No. No. No.”
  • My high school baseball coach was a genius. One of his players screwed up a defensive play. Coach: “What are you doing?” Player: “I thought…” Coach: “Don’t think. DO.” It’s funny what you remember from high school.
  • My high school French teacher got mad one day when he smelled something foul in his classroom. “Fellows. Nobody gonna fart in my class.” Needless to say not a lot got done for the next half hour.
  • Have you ever seen a baby learn to crawl? They try with every cell in their body to move forward and they move backward instead. They haven’t gotten to the “do” part yet.
  • Dogs probably don’t think to much about lying down. But they always seem to spin around three times before they do.
  • And, because this blog is supposed to be about cycling, tonight I passed 7,000 miles for the year.

Another Surly Month

October is done and another 819 miles are behind me. Of course, I am right where I started so the universe remains as nonsensical as ever. I rode to work 15 times this month. I rode Little Nellie once for 21 miles while on a business trip. Otherwise it was all Deets, my Surly Cross Check.

I finally rode the Seagull Century and did the Great Pumpkin Ride for the umpteenth time.

Poor Deets is starting to wear down. He clearly needs a new chain and cassette. I’ll keep riding him until I get through Saturday’s Cider Ride. Then it’s off to the bike shop for some TLC.

For the year, I have logged 148 bike commutes for 4,300 miles. I have also done weekend rides and an 832 mile bike tour which bring my year to date total to 6,975 miles. So, with any kind of luck, I’ll break 7,000 miles tomorrow on the way home from work. Somehow Deets has managed to become my favorite bike. I have ridden it for 2,654 miles, nearly 600 more than The Mule, my old Specialized Sequoia.

October has also seen several deer sightings on my rides home. Tonight there was a young buck with a rather feeble looking set of antlers standing right next to the Mount Vernon Trail at the turnoff to go around the Slaters Lane apartments north of Old Town. We looked at each other. I don’t know who was more surprised. As I came even with him, he bolted into the woods along the river.

 

Biking a Marathon: The Two-Wheeled Spectator

Last week my friend Katie Bolton asked me to talk to her about strategies for watching the up coming Marine Corps Marathon. Her article hit the interwebs over the weekend:

I met Katie through Friday Coffee Club. She is an unassuming soul who is infinitely more talented, likable, and bright than she’ll ever know. She is between careers and blogs about the travails of finding the sweet spot in the work/life world, a topic that seems to consume so many of my young friends in DC.

I used to run. A lot. One year I ran 3,000 miles. My marathon best is 3:04:29, good for 24th place at the Heritage Trail Marathon in Troy, NY. No brag. Just fact.

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Then I hurt my left knee playing volleyball. Sad face.

I miss running, especially on days when it is just a little too cool for bike riding. That’s prime long distance running weather.

You might think that runners don’t appreciate the cheers from the crowd in a marathon. You’d be wrong. The energy boost that the crowd gives is potent. I’ll never forget the boost I got from the crowds in Newport RI during the final run through downtown in the Ocean State Marathon. (Too bad they weren’t around when I hit the wall three miles later!)

Of course, a great way to cheer your friendly marathoner on is to ride a bike to various spots along the course. In DC you don’t even need a bike. You can use the bike sharing system. Any bike will do.

I know a few people runing Marine Corps so I’ll ride up to DC to cheer them on. if there is a marathon in your neck of the woods, check it out. Make some noise. The runners will definitely appreciate it.

Blowin’ in the Wind

Bob Dylan is getting a Nobel. He wrote the theme song to the 2016 Great Pumpkin Ride. It’s called Blowin’ in the Wind.

We had a nice Indian summer this week. Temperatures were in the 80s during the day. Then a front came through and autumn was back. In force.

The ride continued nonetheless. Apparently the 20 -30 mile per hour winds and the 40 mile per hour gusts turned some people off. I signed up for this ride when Ultrarunnergirl asked me about it. She planned to ride with another friend. She ended up spending the day at a vineyard not far away. Can’t say I blame her.

I met up with some other friends, Paul, Amy, and Jody, at the start. We were going to ride the 48 mile route. Slowly. We left a little after the official 9:30 start.

Adding to the fun was the fact that I have a sore throat and a pretty nasty cold. I was shivering when we started and my energy levels were very low. I ate an energy bar left over from my June bike tour.

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The wind seemed to be mostly at our backs for the first 15 miles, with the occasional crosswind to nearly blow us off the road. We mostly had protection from trees. One cool aspect of this was the fact that leaves were falling like rain. Every so often they’d dance in the air pocket in front of my body. As if to tip their caps to the end of warm weather.

The scenery could not have been better. It took my mind off the random blast. Jody led the way for the start. Paul and Amy rode together. I played shutterbug.

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This was Amy’s first long ride. The conditions not being ideal, we decided to stop and give her a chance to chop off 10 miles of the route. Amy didn’t take the bait. We rode on to the first rest stop. It was at a church. Warm apple cider. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread. Even Paul’s favorite: pumpkin whoopie pies.

I said hello to Dave and Jean who were riding the 60+ mile route. They had been contending with lots of headwinds.

Leaving the rest stop, we encountered open farm land. No trees to protect us. And we were getting blasted. Not surprisingly this broke our group of four up. I was just plugging along keeping my heart rate where it likes to be kept. I ended up being way out in front. Probably has something to do with riding 6,500 miles already this year.

I stopped at the top of a hill. Riders struggled with the headwind as they climbed. Then came Jody. And we waited. After many minutes, Paul and Amy arrived. Dang. We may be old, but we are slow.

I told Amy the next rest stop at Old Bust Head brewery was four miles away. Jody corrected me and said it was six. “Amy, I rounded up.”

And away we rode. More pretty country stuff. Leaves. Farms. Dessicated corn stalks. A pony being trained.

The brewery was a welcome retreat. I had two pints. The bubbles felt good on my throat.

We set out for the last ten or so miles back to the start. I became separated from the three. I fell in with an old guy. (As Jody later pointed out, “We’re all old!”) He told me he had only recently started biking again. He said he was old and fat. He didn’t look it.We played leap frog.He actually rode faster than me on the flats but the hills were really challenging for him. He walked a few, huffing and puffing, but never gave up.

For most of the time I was riding I was in my usual meditative trance. When I rode past a turn early in the ride, Jody had to yell at me to get me back on course. Be one with the cue sheet.

I zoned out for the last few uphill miles. I have no idea how fast I was going. The scenery, the hills, the wind. As Robbie Robertson once said, “The wind just sort of took me there.”

At the end of the ride, I watched as the after party closed up shop. I waited and watched old guy finish. Then Jody. Then some others. Where were Paul and Amy. Worry began to set in. They finally arrived having been escorted by the police. Amy was la lanterne rouge. But she finished.

I rode to my car. I was the last car in the vast horse show grounds.

I drove off. Into the wind.

Here are some pix on my Flickr page.

From Arte Johnson to Tater Tots in 39 Miles

Those of you old enough to know who Arte Johnson is know that he made famous a couple of bits of schtick. One was a lecherous old man who mumbles and grunts at Ruth Buzzi’s old lady in a hairnet until she whacks him with her purse. The other was of a man on child’s tricycle riding until he falls over sideways.

I pulled Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, out for the first time in over two months. I planned on looking at colorful leaves and the upright seating position on this bike is just the thing I needed for maximum enjoyment. Sadly, peak foliage around her is at least a week away. (This is great news for those of us who will be riding the Great Pumpkin Ride in Warrenton VA next week, however.) Of course, if I wanted to see foliage, I should have gotten out of bed and driven to the Blue Ridge. But I slept in.

Big Nellie is my only bike with clipless pedals, the kind that attached to the bottom of your shoe. I anticipated that this might be a problem and I wasn’t disappointed. After dodging 4,397 runners, walkers, cyclists, and escaped convicts on the Mount Vernon Trail, I made my way down Union Street in Old Town Alexandria. I had made it half way through the tourist zone near King Street when I came upon a Mazda stopped in front of me at a stop sign. I rolled slowly up to it. It didn’t move. Nobody was in its way. It just didn’t move.

As I came up to its bumper I realized I was going to have to stop. I went to unclip and nothing happened. My left foot wouldn’t release. So I veered to the right of the car as I frantically twisted my foot to no avail. I lost my forward momentum and started falling to the left. I reached out to brace myself on the Mazda’s back left fender. Then it moved and I completed my Arte Johnson and landed on my side on the pavement.

My recumbent seat is only a couple of feet off the ground to begin with. Breaking my fall by contacting the Mazda made the normally uneventful fall even less so. Yet I was still lying on my side in the middle of the street with this ginormous bike attached to me.

A Latina pedestrian came over to help. She was saying something in frantic, accented English but I couldn’t understand her. During the fall, my left foot unclipped but my right foot stayed attached. As she was speaking, I was twisting my right foot and hoping it would release so I could get my body out of the street.

The driver and the passengers in popped out of the car in a panic. ARE YOU OKAY? No, I have a really bruised ego! An my foot is stuck!

A cyclists with gray hair flowing out from under his helmet appeared. Her grabbed my right arm to pull me up. No. Please. I am fine. I just feel like a complete dweeb lying in the street with this chaise lounge attached to my right foot.

Finally, my right foot released and I stood up. Latina smiled. Gray hair bike rider looked relieved. Mazda people got back in car free from the fear that they had somehow contributed to the clumsiest cycling accident of the month. (As I write this four hours later, only my left knee feels any pain. Mostly from getting whacked by the bike’s top tube as I twisted my right leg to free it.)

Well, if any of the people who were there are reading this, thanks for your concern.

I continued riding up the trail of a million weekend warriors until I reached Teddy

Teddy

Roosevelt Island. I ride by TR Island every day on my way to work, but the last time I set foot on it was at least 20 years ago.

 

I locked the bike and went for a calming walk on its dirt trails. The island is an oasis of green in the Potomac River only a few hundred yards from the Sunday brunchers on the riverfront in Georgetown. It would be an incredibly relaxing place but the noise from airplanes flying into National Airport and the cars rumbling across the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge ruined the ambiance.

Teddy Trail

Before leaving I did an Interwebs search for pizza. I was hungry. There’s an Italian place right next to the Custis Trail about 2 miles away. It’s called The Italian Place. Damned clever if you ask me. So I rode up the long hill out to Rosslyn then up some more until the universe decided I had had enough. After a half mile down hill run, I came to the place. They should change its name to The Place with the Incredibly Long Line. I was took a number. 87. Then I heard them call “47!” I walked out.

I continued on the trail up/down/up/down/up/down etc. Until I came to a flat stretch. Lance Mamilot came riding past from the other direction. He blew a snot rocket to his right. Then just as I reached him he blew one to his left. What an asshole! I got a misty spray of his nasal excretions on my left leg. Ewwww!

At the W&OD Trail I headed back toward home. Nineteen miles down, only 17 miles to go. I decided to leave the trail at US 1 and work my way through the Del Ray neighborhood of Alexandria. I stopped at Del Ray Pizzeria. I was going to get t

Burp

hat pizza after all. Sadly, they don’t serve individual slices. This was almost as upsetting as the snot rocket and the Arte Johnson. I had a cheese steak instead.  It was humongous. I looked great but did not live up to its visual wonderfulness. It was probably a good cheese steak as cheese steaks go, but I am not much of a cheese steak person. Nick Hornby once remarked that there are well written books that are poorly read. Perhaps this was a good cheese steak that was poorly tasted.

In any case, the cheese steak came with tater tots. Tater tots cure everything. I’ll bet that if Arte Johnson ate tater tots, he’d have stayed upright.

 

 

 

Doing All the Things

What a beautiful Saturday. I could have gone for a hike but I had things to do. Eight things to be exact.

Thing 1

I rode my bike to the government center down the street and I voted. I could vote early because I will be out of town on election day. The only down side to voting early is that other voters don’t get to see me bike to the polls. Oh well, at least I got a new sticker.

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I bike and I vote

Thing 2

Next up, I rode to the drug store to score some drugs. Okay, it was asthma medicine which isn’t all that exciting until I don’t have it when I need it.

Thing 3

I rode the Mount Vernon Trail to the farmer’s market it Old Town Alexandria. The place was packed. There were apples. LOTS of apples. I didn’t buy any. I was just people watching. There were people. LOTS of people. I didn’t know any.

Thing 4

Next up was a Thai massage. After all the biking I’ve been doing, it was time to cash in the gift card that Mrs. Rootchopper gave me on my birthday in August. It was for a one-hour session including a foot bath. I’d never had a foot bath like this before. The therapist kneaded my feet. I laughed through the whole thing except when it hurt. I have tender puppies. So it hurt quite a lot. When it was over, it felt pretty awesome. If you are a runner, you should have a soaking foot massage.

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Thai massage place in Old Town

Then the message happened. Dang are my muscles tight. After 20 minutes, I asked to extend my message for an extra 30 minutes. This was going to take some time. My massage therapist was Dau. She did a great job. Some of it hurt but I told her to keep working on the sore parts anyway. It differed from the other Thai massage I had last year. For one thing, I was on a massage table instead of on a cushion on the floor. This gave Dau a different angle on manipulating my body. Another difference is that, although my legs were tight, I did not have numbness in my right leg. Last time the therapist had to limit the work on my thighs.

When it was over I walked out feeling totally relaxed. My thighs were so relaxed. I had no idea how tight they were. And my back felt like new.

I am not a massage kind of guy. I usually feel like I have better things to do with my time. This was different. It was definitely worth the time and money.

Thing 5

Mrs. Rootchopper does the grocery shopping after her Saturday morning Pilates class. I forgot to tell her that we needed coffee and raisins. So I swung by the grocery store to get some. They fit nicely in my Carradice saddle bag.

Thing 6

After I got home, I mowed the lawn. During summer our back lawn grows much faster than the front. In autumn, the front grows faster. Either way, it’s much easier to mow the lawn when it’s not 95 degrees outside.

Thing 7

I read the paper. Two hours later I woke up. This is primo napping weather. Resistance is futile.

Thing 8

I bought tickets for my daughter to fly home for Thanksgiving. Free. Boy am I glad Southwest flies into National Airport.

 

Closing Day

When I went to sleep Wednesday night, my intention was to spend Thursday at work then ride home and watch the Nationals play the Dodgers in the deciding game of their baseball playoff series. Having watched scores of games both at the ballpark and on television (not to mention listening to a few on the radio), I was totally psyched that this would be a ballgame for the ages.

So, during the morning, I bought a ticket. I headed to the ballpark on Deets and prepared for a long night. The game started just after 8 pm, an hour after the normal starting time, to accommodate a national television broadcast. This meant that the game would probably not be over in time for fans to take the subway home. The subway system steadfastly refused to extend its hours. So fans had to improvise. The hashtag #natsride and account @natsride sprung up over the last few days to facilitate carpooling. Many others chose to bike to the game, like me.

Prior to the game I ate dinner after which I ran into Kevin from the bike tour. Later in the evening, he offered to get me some World Series tickets which was incredibly thoughtful. We were sitting in opposite sides of the ballpark so we parted ways. Soon after reaching my seat in the left field grandstand, Klarence and Lauren walked down the aisle to my left. They had come to try and get a ball during batting practice. Klarence and I had a long talk, probably our last one for quite a while as our social paths rarely cross anymore. Hugs happened. Then they went off to keep score in their perch in the seats high above the Nats on deck circle.

Normally, when I go to a baseball game alone, my introversion melts away and I strike up a mini-friendship with the folks sitting nearby. It’s a very conversational vibe. Last night was different. Fans were on their feet for most of the game, cheering and waving red towels. The atmosphere was more like a football or hockey game.

The Nationals’ ace was on the mound. The Dodgers eventually got to him and some relievers for four runs. The crowd stilled. Then the Nats scored a run. Woot! Then a Nats pinch hitter hit a two run homer. Pandemonium!

Since this a win or else situation, the managers used every trick in the book and played nearly everyone they had. At 11:30 the scoreboard announced that the last train was leaving the nearby subway station in a few minutes. The crowd booed! Loudly! (Good luck getting support for fare increases, Metro.)  The game dragged on. Finally, in the bottom of the ninth inning, the Nationals sent up the best hitter in baseball to face the best left handed pitcher in a generation. Our man popped up. Down to their last pinch hitter, the Nationals sent a rookie to the plate. It would have been so cool if he got a hit. Alas, he struck out lamely and the Dodgers won. After over 4 1/2 hours, the longest 9-inning post season game in baseball history.

What a strange feeling it is to go from sensing a euphoric victory to suffering a buzz killing defeat. The crowd went silent. In the distance, you could hear the Dodgers celebrating on the infield. Fans, wiped out from emotion and the late hour, began their long slog home at 12:30 in the morning.

The bike valet was stuffed with bikes. Some were locked to the top of a ten foot high chain link fence that contains the bike racks. Many were simply leaning against other bikes. I was lucky to get out in a reasonable amount of time. After greeting Kevin again, I thought of waiting to say goodbye to my other friends at the game but it was already close to 1 am so I rode off into the dark.

Most of the crowd stayed until the final out. The traffic outside the ballpark was insane. Traffic signals were ignored. Traffic control officers seemed to be completely overwhelmed. Riding a bike under these conditions is like being a running back going off tackle. You just look for the gaps and ride to daylight. Or in this case, headlight.

The ride home along the Mount Vernon Trail featured a steady tailwind. I was groggy but I have ridden this trail so many times that I was nearly confirming that I can ride home in my sleep. Another cyclist followed me all the way to Old Town, about nine miles from the ballpark.

Then I was on my own. The only sign of life I saw was two lights next to the trail. A fox? Raccoon? Opossum?

I pulled into my yard at 2:30.

What better way to soothe the disappointment of a season ending loss than to ride 16 miles under the stars in a crisp autumn breeze.

Only 171 days until opening day.