Tag: #bikedc

Dang, It’s Spring

Yesterday was opening day in DC. Other than the fact that the Nationals have a shortstop who can’t field for shit early in the season, it went well. So 0-1 means we’ll just have to settle for a 161-1 record.

I went to a get together last night at a brew pub in DC. I am slowly learning that the concept of craft beer and my enjoyment of craft beer are not in sync. I had two beers and neither did much for me. Also my inability to remember names presented itself. When you can’t remember the last name of the person who invited you you’re in seriously deep social yoghurt. So if you see me at a social event and I call you Kate and you’re female don’t take offense. I figure the odds are about 1:3 that I get your name right. Also, if you give me a fritter I am infinitely more likely to remember your name for some mysterious reason. Dr. Pavlov, phone home.

I drove home from last night’s festivities in a good mood despite the memory glitch. I proceeded to get lost and ended up somehow in Trinidad, which is a DC neighborhood not an island in the Caribbean. This does raise the interesting question: Why isn’t there a DC neighborhood named Tobago? I shouldn’t make Trinidad jokes because one of my bestest bike mechanics is from there (the island, not the city). And one of my favorite #bikedc people whose name I recently forgot is from there too (the neighborhood not the island).

I made it home under a full moon unscathed by the scary drivers on 295.

This morning it looked like I might be dealing with rain so Little Nellie got the call. She was feeling forgotten. We rode briskly as I had fresh legs from not riding on Saturday or Monday. (I am participating in the 25 Days of April riding event. It’s lonely but somebody has to do it.) I spotted a young deer, probably a yearling, trotting through a wooded neighborhood park near home. Trees here and there had blossoms. Birds were making a racket. I wore shorts and t-shirts (still layering in fear of a surprise attack from winter). The ride in was pretty damned splendid.

At Gravelly Point I stopped to help a bike commuter with a flat. He’d been riding on the rim for several hundred yards. If you are a bike commuter and do not look like Kate Upton, you should carry a tube and a pump. (Kate Upton is followed by horny men in lycra who will buy her a new bike if she has a flat or even when she doesn’t.) You might also think about buying a new tire every decade or so. Spring for the kind with a kevlar belt so you get only one or two flats every 5,000 miles. Since Little Nellie’s tires are, well, little and Mr Flat’s tires were big, I didn’t have a tube I could give him. We tried pumping up his tire but the leak was so big that the outflow from the tire exceeded the inflow from the pump. Mr Flat said he only had a half mile to go so I decided not to waste 20 minutes messing with a patch. I hope you had a nice walk, Mr. Flat.

The evening bike ride was pretty darn splendid too. I took the 14th Street bridge into DC to check out the cherry blossoms. They were not yet at peak but a worthwhile show nonetheless. After two laps of the Hains Point circuit I headed for home.

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On the way home I decided to leave the Mount Vernon Trail and take Fort Hunt Road instead. I made a left turn onto Fort Hunt interrupting a steady stream of right hand turning cars. I had no choice really. I was stuck in the intersection when the light turned red. One of the cars that I cut in front of was driven by a nice young lady who gave me the finger. It must suck to be her.

Even such rude behavior could not ruin such a lovely ride home, however. With fresh legs I rode up three hills on the way home with no difficulty at all. Spring will do that to you.

Perfect, Pants, and Cheese Fries in OT

Yesterday I received my new fancy rain pants in the mail. Today, the weather gods cooperated and I got to try them out. They fit me a tad tight which is to say they fit me like bicycle pants. My previous rain pants were of the hiking persuasion. I had my doubts that my new pants would get the job done but they performed flawlessly.

The ride to work was mostly wet and gray. The rain stopped for a few minutes around the ten mile mark then resumed.

I rode into DC to attend Friday Coffee Club. At the traffic light at Maine Avenue I ran into (not literally) Mary, Coffeeneur, Randonista, Errandonnista, and co-founder of Friday Coffee Club. It’s not every day you meet a celebrity, Sadly, I forgot to ask for her autograph, At the Washington Monument she hung a looie and I banged a right. She beat me to Swings House of Caffeine by a couple of minutes. I don’t mind taking a longer route since I got to ride in front of the White House which I regard as a pretty cool way to start the day.

For a crummy weather day, Swings was pretty crowded. Over 20 bike commuters showed up. I knew all but a couple of them, not bad for an introvert.

The ride to work featured a rare Perfect on the narrow TR Bridge. A Perfect means that I did not have to stop to let a DC-bound rider pass.

I planned to work until 2 then sneak out to a bar with my co-worker Allison, who, like myself, attended Boston University. We were going to watch the BU-Yale NCAA hockey playoff game. At 1 my boss and several other co-workers got all hyper and agitated about something and called a meeting for 3 pm. Lovely.

Somehow the meeting was moved up to 2:30. After 30 minutes the agitated folks decied that I would do all the work while they went home. As soon as that meeting was over, Allison was sucked into a vortex of Friday afternoon deadline anxiety.

If we ever get out of here, thought of giving it all away… (Wait, somebody else wrote that.)

Finally, we escaped the maelstrom and made it to a nearby bar. We joined the game with a little over 3 minutes remaining and the score tied 2-2. BU had a nice power play opportunity and squandered it. Then with seconds remaining in regulation, Yale committed another penalty. Then the game went into overtime.

To sustain us through the wait for OT Allison ordered some cheese fries. They were disgusting. Of course, I ate some. I needed help digesting them. So I had a few Shiner Bocks. Fortunately, BU scored a goal and my digestive system was saved from further abuse.

I rode home in my new fancy pants. They were a bit tighter thanks to the cheese fries and the Shiner Bocks.

I am presently tired. I rode over 160 miles in the last five days. Just getting to and from work. If I keep this up, I’ll be in fine shape for the mid-May bike trip from Pittsburgh to DC that I am doing with Ryan and Kevin. Ir will be perfect. I will not need fancy pants. There will be beer. I think I’ll pass on the cheese fries, though.

Springing for a Few Hours

It is so frustrating. I want to ride in warm air but the air doesn’t warm up until mid-afternoon.

I procrastinated like mad all morning. Finally, with temperatures in the mid-40s I headed out. I rode to Spokes Etc. Belle Haven shop, my local bike store. I was expecting a long line at the service area but there was none. I asked Carlos to check out my chain. It’s been making crunchy noises that no amount of cleaning and lubing can fix. Carlos declared my chain to be dead. Unfortunately, despite the lack of a line there was enough work in the queue that I’d have had to wait and hour for him to replace the chain and casette (which was also toast). So I decided to bring the bike in after work during the week. One of the best things about this shop is their willingness to squeeze in small jobs like this.

After my stop at the bike shop, I noticed that the temperature had risen into the 50s. Not warm, but warm-ish. I tweeted that I was out and about. Bob “Don’t Call Me Rachel” Cannon was hanging with his wife Liz and one of their foster dogs at a cafe in Del Ray about 4 miles away. I rode like the wind to join them. Well actually I rode like a gentle breeze. Fast I ain’t.

Along the way I passed a new pizza place on Belle Haven Road between Fort Hunt Road and the Mount Vernon Trail. It’s a sister store to Del Ray Pizzeria. It has an interesting menu and beaucoups beers on tap and in bottles. Just the thing for the hungry cyclist. Two caveats however. First, they have no bike racks for bike parking. Second, access from the Mount Vernon Trail involves crossing the GW Parkway at grade. This is not a lot of fun. An alternative is to take the U1 connector trail from South Washington Street to Fort Hunt Road. Take FHR to a left on Belle Haven Road.

By the time I arrived at Del Ray, where Bob and Liz were coincidentally dining, the temperature had risen into the 60s. Ahhhhh. I spent an hour or so talking to Bob and Liz. Their dog had one albino eye and one brown eye. I tried to get a picture bit he kept turning his head. Dog vanity is a bitch.

I headed home. I am pretty sure I am carrying an extra five or ten pounds because the hills on Fort Hunt Road seemed like L’Alpe d’Huez. I was so slow. Maybe I need one of those super fast Surlys like KL has. Springing for a few bucks?

Cherry Blossoms from the Sky

This week was doing so well. I had two bike commutes to start the week. Then zipless monkey conversation on Wednesday. Thursday was cool but the riding was pleasant. Then came Friday. I had been absent from Friday Coffee Club for too long. Ice on the Mount Vernon Trail and a business trip kept me away.

It was 35 degrees and raining when I left the house. No.

Then the rain turned to ice pellets. No. Just no.

We are supposed to be seeing cherry blossoms right about now.

So the ice pellets turned to snowflakes. I went with it. Lemons and lemonade. Dalai Lama Palmer plays it as it lays.

I stuck my tongue out as I rode. Time for my inner boy to come out. (I dialed it back though. In my grammar school days, I used to ride my bike down the street and jump off to see how far the bike would go before it wobbled to the ground. (Quite a long way if you are wondering.) Misery turned to play.

I arrived at coffee club with cold wet feet. I broke my SEC (Stop eating crap) rule and had a fritter. Comfort food.

Mary, Queen Errandonnista, was giving out patches. I didn’t take one but she held one up and took my picture for the historical record. Lis did take one and, true to my pathetic photography skills, I took a blurry picture.

I rode with Brian down G Street after coffee. My waterproof gloves were full of cold rain water. It was a squishy ride to work.

The ride home was better. This time of year I often bring some extra cycling gear. Yesterday I brought an extra pair of gloves. Good thing to as my morning gloves were still soaking wet.

The ride home was filled with duck quacks. In just a matter of days, the duck (mostly mallards) population has exploded. Duck weather isn’t all that good for cycling.

It is now Saturday morning. 37 degrees outside. The first full day of spring. I’m just sittin’ here doin’ time. I’d rather be riding. And seeing cherry blossoms on the trees.

Bloat and My Fusiform Gyrus

Since Sunday I have been inhaling food and beer like there is no tomorrow. (I blame the Buddha. Did you ever notice the beer belly on that dude?) On Sunday, I drank a couple of beers with my pizza at lunch. Bloat. Monday was a office happy hour. I was happy so I went and had two beers. Bloat.Tuesday was Saint Patrick’s Day. Being the decendant of assorted Gavins, Hanlons, Cairnses, and Kerwins, I did not feel the need to prove my ancestral bona fides with beer. Un-bloat.

During the day on Tuesday, I sent a text to KL apologizing for completely not recognizing her at the Swedish embassy on Sunday. This led to a flurry of texts back and forth during which KL suggested that I may have neurological issues: “You should totally get your fusiform gyrus checked out.”

Only…

in…

DC.

I raised a white flag and proposed an IRL summit. This summit was held at a watering hole in downtown DC on Wednesday evening. What we thought was going to be “a drink” turned into a four- hour remake of My Dinner with Andre. (To her credit, KL looks decidedly better than Wallace Shawn. Now that I think about it, ANYBODY looks better than Wallace Shawn, including Wallace Shawn.) Many more beers were consumed. And hummus. And burgers. Bloat. Suffice it to say that for somebody I can’t seem to recognize, KL is most excellent company. Of course, with my defective fusiform gyrus, it is conceivable that I may have been talking to just about anybody.

I expected today’s bike commute to be a slogfest complete with hangover. (Four beers are quite enough to give me a hangover. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.) Instead I woke up clear headed and ready to roll. It was a little cool outside but I had a beautiful ride to work. Of course, this included another stellar sunrise.

The rest of the ride was one of those two wheeled, hour long meditations that I love. Every so often my dream state was interupted by the sight of a bird I hadn’t seen in months. Or the realization that a beaver has been hard at work near the aptyly named beaver bridge. The water level is now up to the underside of the bridge. Or the early morning light making the monuments look more monumental. Hell, I even survived the Intersection of Doom.

The ride home was every bit as serene. In fact, I’d say that the only thing worth complaining about was the fact that fair weather bike commuters are a little rusty on their etiquette. (Call out your passes, people.)

Unless it snows like a bitch (which is not entirely out of the question) I will ride to Friday Coffee Club tomorrow. Then, this weekend I will lay off the beer. And the pizza. And the burgers. And the hummus.

And maybe I look into getting my fusiform gyrus tweaked.

Blueberry Soop – 24 and There’s So Much More

Today was the Vasa ride, the first #bikedc event of the year. The Vasa ride is put on by WABA in collaboration with the Swedish embassy. Then idea is to mimic the Vasaloppet, an annual  cross country skiing event in Sweden. (I tried telemark style biking but have since reverted to conventional nordic style.)

Last night I traded tweets with fellow Mount Vernon bike commuter Linel. We hadn’t met in real life so it was decided that I would give her a ride to the start. I picked her up in the sea of condos in Belle Haven/View just south of Old Town. The Mule was already on my bike rack. It takes considerable effort to get it there as The Mule is actually a corruption of Molnir, Thor’s hammer, which only Thor can lift. I picked up Linel’s bike, a Trek Madone, and couldn’t believe how light it was. It was like hefting a can of beer, without the beer.

Not wanting to search endlessly in Georgetown for a parking space, I parked in Rosslyn and we rode Key Bridge into Georgetown. About 1 block from the start we rode by no fewer than ten empty parking spaces. Doh!

The starting area had an abundance of #bikedc people I knew. Gina and Michelle from WABA were working the registration area. Liz was volunteering there as well. Chris M. and Rachel “Don’t Call Me Bob” Cannon were marshalls. Ed and Mary (she less than 24 hours removed from running a marathon) and Dave and Jean were hanging out with their Co-Motion tandems. Up rolled Shawn, Brian, Jonathan, Lisa, Ryan, Will, John Roche (all the way from Baltimore), and Matilde.

Some of these folks rolled out on the 59-mile course, the rest of us headed out on the 31 mile ride. We cruised along without incident and learned that Linel’s Madone is equipped with an anti gravity device as she cruised up the hill on Reservoir Road. A few minutes later winter took a bite out of the fun as Matilde lost her phone when her bike’s impact with a pothole sent it flying.

We climbed up the small hill at the reservoir. I took off on the backside and fell in with a group of people riding in a pace line. Wee, no headwind for me. Chris B. flew by, heading back toward DC.

I continued on rather pleased with myself until we reached the hill at Great Falls Park. Here I demonstrated my craptastic hill climbing abilities. Bicyclists after bicyclist passed me and my bruised ego. The first thing to go is your legs. The second thing to go is your pride.

I rolled into the rest stop in Potomac Village and rested. Foods were eaten. Bathrooms were broken. Rest was achieved.

Back we went toward the start. As I turned left into Avenel I was pushed by a strong tailwind gust. Rather than waste the energy, I down shifted and started pedaling hard. The Mule and I went all 02134. (Obscure PBS reference.)

Peter pulled along beside me. He had been meandering around the route and decided to head back to DC. As we chatted he told me how he, too, had lost his phone. We rode side by side down Persimmon Tree Road to MacArthur Boulevard. Tailwinds made for easy work.

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Sea of Bikes at the Finish

 

At the finish we made our way inside the Swedish embassy to partake of the blueberry soup. It was hot but not as sweet as I recalled from previous years. At the embassy we met up with Lis. This was the first time I’ve seen her in the wild. Normally, I see her at Friday Coffee Club. I also met up with Randy from the Alexandria Bike Ped Advisory Committee.

A few minutes later KL came up to me and introduced herself. I drew a blank until she explained we met at the WABA holiday party last December. She introduced her friend Magen.

After a few minutes of souping, we gathered together 11 people and headed to Pizzeria Paradiso in Georgetown where KL and Magen were already seated. (Who says bicycle events don’t do something for local businesses?)

After some fine pizza and beer, we parted ways. Linel and I rode across Key Bridge and were soon on our way homeward.

All in all, the Vasa ride provided a pretty darn good start to the #bikedc event year. I think it’s incredible that I, a pretty serious introvert, can go to a bike event in DC and see 23 people I know and meet another. Many thanks to all the volunteers who helped out. Thanks also to the WABA employees who gave up their Sunday to make this happen. Humongous thanks to Michelle Cleveland, WABA’s event coordinator. She was working on four hours of sleep and somehow managed to keep smiling throughout the day.

For some more pix of the day, check out my Flickr album.

Errandonnee # 9 and 10 – Banking and Busking

I was begining to think that the clock was going to run out on my errrand running. I only have four more days to knock off four errands. One of those four days is taken up by a business trip. So I needed to get busy.

I can’t count my ride to work because I already have two commutes to my credit. So on the way home I swung by the bank to check about transfering funds between accounts. Unfortunately, the account I need to pull the money from hasn’t recognized my paycheck yet so the trip was for naught. I still get to count the trip as Personal Business even though it’s more or less identical to a previous bank errrand.

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From the bank I rode down King Street, the main drag of Old Town Alexandria. As I approached the Torpedo Factory, a former torpedo factory turned IMG_20150312_174209arts center, I heard the beautiful voice of a woman singing opera. Where else do you find a busking opera singer? So I stopped and took in a few minutes of the show.

After she finished singing her song, a man holding a baby walked up. He launched into an opera tune of his own. Then she joined in. And then the incredibly cute baby, started howling as if to say, “Not again Mom and Dad!”  The two singers suppressed laughter as they continue to sing through the howls.

Just another day on the MVT. How I love living here,

Errand No. 9: Personal Business – Bank

Miles: 9

Observation: I really should do this sort of errand online but my log in info expires from neglect.

Errand No. 10: Arts and Entertainment – Opera on the Mount Vernon Trail

Miles: 1/2

Observation: Do I have the most amazing bike commute or what?!!!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Most of the people I know in the #bikedc world live in or near DC. Their commutes are much shorter than mine. Either on their way home or after arriving at home, they often go out to restaurants, art events, or bars. I envy them.

A friend of mine moved from Adams Morgan, in the heart of the city, to subrurban McLean last summer. Her five minute commute radicaly changed. Instead of riding down a hill to work she now had a multi-modal, expensive monstrosity to deal with. She rode her bike to the Metro, rode Metro into the city, and rode to her job. To do this she had to arrive at Metro before 7 am to take her bike on the train. On the return she had to wait until 7 pm to take her bike on the train.

She complained that she had no time to do the things (yoga, meditation, Skype, blog, etc.) that she used to do in the evenings.Then I realized she was complaining about a life that I have just accepted as normal.  My bike commute and job suck up at least 12 hours of my day. In winter, it’s worse because of all the layers of clothing that I have to put on and take off four times in a day.

So tonight I sat down to blog and realized it is already 10 am. I will be getting up in eight hours. I should be tired but I am not. After all, I have ridden nearly 90 miles since Monday. Yet I haven’t felt this good in months. A warm ride home along the river really floats my boat. It would be nice to be able to pull into Meridian Pint or the Right Proper Brewing Company on the way home for a pint of cold  ale. Then again, I saw an amazingly beautiful great blue heron on my way home tonight. He was standing in the river motionless, as if posing for me. Yes, sir, you are one beautiful work of art.

So sometimes I wish I lived and rode in the city. Mostly, as my McLean friend was once advised, I am careful what I wish for.

Errandonee #8 – Looking through the Bentback Tulips

Today’s errand was my 18th bike commute of the season. Having taken the better part of three weeks off, I am finding my commute to be really hard. I am confident that I will get the hang of it soon and be back to mindless mindfull commuting.

On the way home I passed a Beatles song. Can you guess which one?

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Maybe tomorrow I’ll make a dovetail joint.

Errand No. 8: Work

Miles: 30

Observation: I’d have prefered spotting the kind of girl who makes the News of the World

Daylight Errandonnee Time

Today dawned cold-ish. The “ish” refers to the fact that it was not COLD just seasonably cold.

I left home after sunrise to get to a physical therapy appointment in Old Town. I suspected that there was some lingering ice on the Mount Vernon Trail so I rode Fort Hunt Road to Alexandria. I arrived at the PT place about 20 minutes early.

Here I am before the torture began:

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Note the pre-torture trace of a smile.

After 90 minutes of flossing (that’s what they call manipulating the leg to free the entrapped nerve), foam rolling, core work, and other delights I was back on the bike.

The trail was ice free but for a ten yard stretch near the power plant. I walked this because I am an ice wuss.

When I got to the Intersection of Doom, I had to wait because a truck was DSCN3631_766being positioned in the middle of Lynn Street. A police officer was “helping” in a way that was mysterious to my eyes. There was confusion. I waited until I had safe passage. Then I passaged.

Work happened.

Then I left the office in shorts. The trail was very busy. There were many runners. Mostly female. Mostly wearing very little clothing. I didn’t mind. A week ago they were wearing anoraks.

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Here’s the score card.

Errand No. 6: Personal Care – Physical Therapist

Miles: 6 1/2

Observation: My numb left foot is getting better incrementally.  My patience is getting worse.

Errand No. 7: Work or Volunteer – Work

Miles: 23

Observation: What a joy it is to ride a bike in shorts.