Tag: Friday Coffee Club

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.

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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.

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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!!!

Once You Get Wet….

Woke up. Fell out of Bed.

You know the drill. It was Friday morning. Once I get out that door, I’m good.  Drink some OJ. Eat a banana. Boogie.

I left early to maximize my Friday Coffee Club time. Big Nellie was on autopilot. I don’t think I passed any regulars. Frankly, I could have passed the Preservation Hall Jazz Band and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Into the city and around the Jefferson Memorial. I passed two runners and out of the corner of my eye I recognized one. Of course, her name is Kate (the first of three today). She was talking intensely (when your running in swamp air it’s hard to look anything but intense) so she didn’t see me on my rolling lawn chair. Gypsybug says to ride like your invisible. I apparently am.

In the 15th Street cycle track, Kel came flying by, riding downhill to my uphill. She had to leave Friday Coffee Club early.  She had to be to work by 8. Poor Kel

At Swing’s, Reba and the aforementioned Gyspybug were keeping a dozen guys entertained. They looked grumpy. (The guys, not Reba and Gypsybug. They always look smashing.) Okay, only Aaron looked grumpy, but this is his natural state. Next Jon showed up with his two little girls in a bike trailer. They are beyond CUTE! And very well behaved.

Two big girls, Katie and Kate (the second and third Kates of the day) showed up. Katie just finished a minibike tour. And Kate is soon to leave us for grad school. (Sad face.)

Katie and Kate
Katie and Kate

Then the star of the day showed up. Nicole was riding her bike from Minnesota to Massachusetts. One of the Coffee Clubbers ran into her near the C&O Canal and invited her to join us. She got a round of applause and fit right in to the group. I am beginning to think that Swing’s spikes their drinks with nice juice.

Nicole
Nicole

Around 9 we all went our separate ways. Hi ho! Hi ho!

Eight-ish hours later the skies opened up. Every bike commuter in DC had the radar on his computer at work. I missed my first chance at a dry escape around 4:30. A half hour later, a cap in the storm appeared. Hiyo, Nellie. Away!

I got about a mile before it started raining lightly. I rode very gently because Big Nellie’s front wheel has a bad habit of sliding out on wet pavement. This is not a lot of fun for yours truly and I have plenty of scars to prove it.

I looked over at the city and could see distinct areas of heavy downpours. The downpours didn’t look like much fun. Near the 14th Street Bridge underpass an old regular came by. She’s literally old, gray hair, maybe in her 60s. Her mouth is usually open. She’s been riding to and from my neighborhood for at least ten years; I seem to recall seeing her in Mount Vernon Hospital. Ironically, despite her experience, she wears her helmet back on her head. For all the miles she’s put in, she can wear her helmet however she pleases.

I could see a line of clouds rolling in as I biked past the airport. Every so often I would get a little rain from the front edge of the storm. Pedal, pedal.

A commuter rode by. He asked me a couple of weeks ago if I liked my waterproof Ortlieb panniers. I highly recommended them. He took my advice and bought a pair.

Another commuter passed me and said, “Nice shirt.” I was wearing a Backroads Century t-shirt. He was wear a Backroads cycling jersey. Monday is Bike DC t-shirt day. Please make a note of it.

I started thinking about places to seek cover in case of lightning or high winds. There are buildings with overhangs in Old Town Alexandria. The Wilkes Street tunnel. The underside of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. No need. Of course, as soon as all the good cover spots were behind me the clouds opened up. For the next  3 miles it poured. After a mile, it hardly mattered. I was making squishy noises with each pedal stroke. Big Nellie’s seat stayed dry because I had covered it with a white kitchen trash bag. (No, I was never a boy scout.)

At Northdown Road, the rain stopped. A cyclists stopped in the middle of the road to clear some fallen limbs. We rode together on the east side of the GW Parkway. The road had a fresh later of asphalt. Sooo nice.

The last 1 1/2 miles of my commute puts me on Collingwood Road. Dark clouds were ahead. I reached back and turned on my red blinky light. As I approached a red light at Fort Hunt Road, lightning flashed a couple of miles to my right. I rarely run red lights but GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!! Pedal, pedal.

I made it home and got in the house just as the clouds opened up. It didn’t much matter. I was already wet.

Pix from Friday Coffee Club are over here.

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.

Dead Beavers Tell No Lies

I was back in the saddle – er, foam pad – for an early morning departure. I haven’t been to Friday Coffee Club in a long time so I was looking forward to it. It was nice of Mother Nature to give Big Nellie and me a tailwind assist. The miles seemed to fly by. I spotted a garbage bag next to the trail just south of Belle Haven Park. It turned out to be a beaver all balled up. I think he was dead. He certainly wasn’t looking very spunky.

Since I left earlier than usual, most of my regulars weren’t out yet.  So the critters kept me entertained. Near the power plant another critter caught my eye. It was a black snake coiled up in the middle of the trail. I think he’s with the beaver in critter heaven.

Near the airport I cruised by Trash Walker, my first regular of the day. Trash Walker hoofs it along the trail and picks up trash as he goes. And he always waves and says “Hello”.  He didn’t get the memo about crumpy-assed bike commuters like me.

The early morning brings out the Lancelots, the bike riders who have delusions of cycling grandeur. (Digression No. 1: Look people, you’re on a bike trail with hardly any hills. You don’t look badass passing a bike commuter carrying 30 pounds of crap on his recumbent. You are pathetic. Chill.)  I came off the first of two flyover bridges at National Airport at considerable speed. Three cyclists coming toward me decided to pass a walker just as I came upon them. (Digression No. 2: The levers on your handlebars activate your brakes. Don’t pull out into the path of an on-coming bike when you don’t have to. Wait your turn, just as you would when you’re driving your car. Otherwise I will have to use the bicycle death ray on you. You’ve been warned.)

I rode into the city with two other commuters. At the Jefferson Memorial I was overtaken by a vast bicycle commuting conspiracy. This included one of my regulars, the guy with the mountain bike with slick tires and aerobars who looks slow but goes lickety split.

Crossing Maine Avenue, French Braid Girl came past. Normally I see her four miles closer to home, so I had a good idea how early I was. As I passed the Garbage TruckWashington Monument, a bike came from my right and a runner came from my left. Somehow we avoided a calamitous collision. At Constitution Avenue the light was green (which never happens without a long wait) making up for all of life’s early morning injustices. Soon, another injustice appeared in the 15th Street Cycletrack.

At Swings, the weekly meeting of the WAAMCCD (Washingtion Area All Male Cycling Coffee Drinkers) was in session. Fortunately, we were soon joined by Kate Drake, fresh from her vacation in the high Sierras, and her friend Kate. New Kate makes the fifth cycling Kate that I know in DC, and sixth overall. The three Lisas  (all local) need to up their game.

Out of the garage I bolted into the bike lane on Lynn Street, kinda cutting off a cyclist. My bad. I caught all the lights and made for the bike trail. Two cyclists on the sidewalk to my right passed me unexpectedly on my right. No warning. Thanks, guys. (Please see discussion of the bicycle death ray, above.)  Down on the Mount Vernon Trail there were all sorts of walkers milling about. I came to a stop until they finished milling. All the way to the airport the wind was gusting into my face. A bike commuter passed my and said “This sucks!” Dude, try it in February. This is positively lovely. Takes the edge off the heat and humidity.

Once south of the airport the trees gave me relief from the headwind. Big Nellie and I tootled home. We stopped to take a picture of the beaver. He was still dead.

Kate Drake asked me about the bald eagle nests. I put her off coming down to see them. The trees have made them very hard to find.  It’s a shame. I should have put together a bald eagle ride earlier in the spring.

Tomorrow is the Tour de Fat.It’s a big party with bikes, acid rock, live nude girls, and beer.  Oh, and it’s family friendly. I know this because every ten minutes somebody tweets or posts something on Facebook about it. (If you are fat, they let you in for free, I hear.) I was tempted to go for the entire event which lasts something like six hours. I can do six hours of bikes or beer or acid rock or live nude girls. (Okay, I am kidding about the live nude girls. There will be at least 1,200 Kates in attendance so that counts for something.) Owing to my age and marital status, I decided I’d go for one hour. My plan is to ride to the Washington Folk Festival at Glen Echo Park to see my friend Lisa’s Japanese taiko drum group at 2 then ride to the Tour de Fat.  I hope they have some beer left.

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Today was [Trumpet fanfare!!!] my 50th bike commute of the year. I knew it was supposed to rain this morning so I watched the radar on TV very closely and set out for work when there was a clear gap in the storms. About 1/4 of a mile into the ride, I saw a flash and heard a boom. It then occurred to me that the guy at the TV station  who lines up the doppler radar echos with a map needs to find a new job.

I wore shorts and a shirt under a rain jacket. It worked okay. There was a whole lot of standing water along my route so my feet got soaked.

I lucked out in that there wasn’t any more lightning and thunder. Just rain. Lots and lots or rain.

The upside to this nasty weather was that the Mount Vernon Trail was empty. No tourists. No people with dogs on 15 foot leashes. No five year olds careening all over the place on training wheels. No Lancelots blowing by me without warning inches from my left elbow. Just me, Little Nellie, and a few bazillion gallons of cold rain.

As I rounded the bend at Gravelly Point, the rain was joined by a gale force crosswind. I had to lean into the wind to avoid being blown into the Potomac River, where white caps were dancing.

The westerly wind came in handy when I turned onto the 14th Street bridge. It blew me across the Potomac. As I reached the Tidal Basin, I could see that the cherry blossoms had succumbed to the storm. Thousands of little blossom petals littered the sidewalk and street. I’m sad to see them go, placed along the trail by eastern redbuds’ purple blossoms.  And soon we’ll soon be dealing with the 17-year cicadas. Eek!

I walked into Swings for Friday Coffee Club and the six cyclists who were there laughed at me. I probably looked like a wet rag. We stood around a couple of tables, drinking coffee and letting the morning’s rain run off our clothes onto the floor. Normally, on Friday mornings I take my coffee with a heaping spoonful of estrogen. Not today. For the first time ever, it was all guys. Was it something we said?

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The ride to Rosslyn across the narrow path on the TR Bridge featured a first: not one stop for DC-bound cyclists.  I did have to slow to squeeze by a runner but she gave me plenty of room.

When I arrived at work, I was greeted with this:Image

The bike parking had been taken over by movers. I pushed some of their moving stuff out of the way and tied Little Nellie to the hitching post. Then it was off to the fitness center where I used an abundance of towels to dry off my stuff.

By the end of the day, my office reeked of wet wool. It’s amazing what an odor just two wet wool socks can put out.

The ride home was dry and warm. The MVT was clear sailing all the way home. My pair of geese is back where they belong in Dyke Marsh but there were no gosslings. Yet.

Nearly Spring

Here in DC we are being tormented by a winter that just won’t let go. We have had one day over 60 degrees so far this year. March was colder than January. The wind has been blowing day in and day out. No mas.

I didn’t ride to work yesterday so that I could attend my daughter’s lacrosse game. She is the goalie. Watching your kid in goal is difficult. If she performs well she will come home with bruises and contusions all over. If she doesn’t the team probably loses.

It rained overnight, right up to the moment I left the house. It was in the low 40s or high 30s and I had a headwind. So I put on all my rain gear.  Of course, it stopped raining.

Despite the wind, the ride in was pleasant. Two ospreys were messing around at and in the air above the Belle Haven bald eagle nest. I think they are taking over. Ospreys are pretty impressive, unless you have a bald eagle around. Bald eagles are rock stars. Ospreys sing folk tunes.

I have noticed this week that some of the geese are sitting in the grass. I am pretty sure they are mothers about to lay their eggs. Every year two geese set up house on a very narrow piece of grass where the waters of Dyke Marsh pass underneath the GW Parkway. There were two geese there the last few days. By next week we should be seeing fuzzy goslings along the Mount Vernon Trail.

I rode Little Nellie to the Friday Coffee Club. I passed by DC’s famous cherry trees. They are still not in bloom, but the big show should start in a day or two.

Coffee Club was crowded again. This week some Arlington bike commuters began a separate get together. I say “accept no substitutes!!”

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Work was work-like.

By the time I left for home, spring had made an appearance. It was 60 degrees and I had a nice tailwind to end the workweek. I packed my rain gear and went with shorts and short fingered bicycling gloves. My fingertips were pleased to be liberated from long fingered gloves.

At the south end of Old Town the Mount Vernon Trail passes a small wooden area that has river overflow in it. I could hear spring peepers making their calls as I rode by. In a couple of days, the frogs near my house will be making quite a racket.

 

 

Springtime in Sweden

Today was the first event of my 2013 riding calendar. Each year the Washington Area Bicycling Association and the Swedish Embassy get together to hold the Vasa ride.  In Sweden, them crazy Swedes hold a really long cross country skiing event called the Vasaloppet. Thousands of Swedes, nearly crippled by cabin fever, go skiing for hours and hours. Somehow, like chocolate and peanut butter, WABA and the HofS decided to merge the Vasaloppet concept with bicycling and, voila (sorry, don’t know any Swedish), a ride was born.

The Vasa event is held in March, because Swedes don’t give a damn about cold weather. This helps keep the number of participants in the Vasa ride down. Still we had several hundred folks doing one of the 3 rides. There’s the full Vasa of 59 miles. Then there’s the Halv Vasa of 31 miles, and finally there’s the Kort Vasa of 16 miles. (Swedes ain’t so hot at fractions apparently, but we at the Rootchopper Institute of Anal Retentive Arithmetic are a forgiving lot.)

At the end of the ride, the HofS gives riders hot blueberry soup. It’s actually pretty tasty, buy I wouldn’t want to drink it every day.

The infamous Friday Coffee Club came out in great numbers, a few even brought along their significant others. You can tell it’s true love when your partner will ride 30 or 60 miles in the cold for a cup of blue soup and your company.

Temperatures were around 40 degrees and winds were light. At 8 a.m. a gaggle of FCCers took off with the Full Vasa riders. Our group included Mary and Ed on their amazing Co-Motion tandem, Ryan, Aaron, Will, Shawn, and Lisa. Leslie, another FCCer, was riding as a ride marshall. Thanks for volunteering, Leslie.

Lisa is now the official riding buddy of this blog. We’ve done five or six rides together in the past year and she hasn’t cussed me out once yet. (She shows remarkable restraint.)  The last official riding buddy of this blog was run over by a pick up truck, so, Lisa, watch your back. Although I didn’t see them during the ride, Shawn and Will were also in the Full Vasa pack as we headed out.

The ride went out the Capital Crescent Trail, crossed over to MacArthur Boulevard and headed to Potomac Maryland. At Potomac Village we stopped to chat with Megan and Katie, two WABA people who were giving out drinks and maintaining good cheer despite standing in the cold all morning.

At this point, Lisa and I made the executive decision to turn around while the rest of the group forged on. Their plan was to do a 3 Kort Vasa, the full ride less a portion in Rock Creek Park.  Lisa and I had fun riding back despite feeling a  bit chilly.

Back at the HofS, we met up with Dave, another FCCer who had ridden the Kort ride with Jean, his wife. Jean did the ride despite disintegrating riding slacks, a recent purchase gone sadly wrong. I am sure she will get her money back.

While at the HofC we met up with Rachel and Kate, FCC regulars, and their partner in cycling crime, Katie Ann. Other FCCers we met up with at the HofS included Crystal, John and Kate, and Justin and his wife, whose name escapes me. (This has been a problem of late. I mixed up Kevin with Ben, another FCCer, at the start. I may have to up my coffee consumption.)

The Rootchopper Institute would like to thank the House of Sweden and WABA for putting on this event. I’d list all the names of the WABA peeps who got up super early to pull this shindig off, buy I’d miss a few names (see previous paragraph). Special thanks go to Alex, who managed to take pix with an SLR, tweet on her phone, and use a megaphone in the same morning.  Her stirring pre-ride safety speech was beyond compare. And also to Megan who was standing in the cold at the Potomac Village rest stop with Katie despite having run a half marathon yesterday and getting only 3 hours of sleep.

As usual, the only thing that could have made this a better ride was warm sunshine and more FCCers. These folks are a joy to ride with.

Mary, Ed, Lisa, and I took pictures. You can check them out here, here, here, and here. WABA’s pix are here.

Friday on My MInd

Can you say “It’s Friday” and not smile? I can’t.

I headed out in the dark aboard Big Nellie. I made the Park Terrace descent at high speed and crossed the Parkway without having to stop for the second day in a row. I hit the Mount Vernon Trail at 17 miles per hour with a smile on my face.

I was hoping to see bald eagles, because they tend to be out and about at sunrise.  I was rewarded for my early departure with two eagles. The first was perched on a branch above the Belle Haven nest.  I am pretty sure it was a male, because he looked very big. The second was on the wing near Daingerfield Island between Old Town and National Airport.  This is an unusual place to see eagles so it was an extra bonus. Riding a recumbent is advantageous in this regard, because of the heads-up riding position.

Just before the second bald eagle, I had a Nancy Duley siting. Normally we pass on Union Street, but my early departure moved today’s passing to the beaver marsh north of Slaters Lane. She later said that I made her think she was late.  I like to mess with people’s minds. I saw French Braid Rider, one of my regulars, well north of our normal passing point. She had a concerned look on her face. I’ll bet she thought she was late too.

A light tailwind made the ride honest, but workaday, which is appropriate because it is a work day after all.  I came off the second fly over bridge at the airport with an impressive head of steam, maxing out at 25 miles per hour. I passed the airport fence where it juts out into the trail and there was a small executive jet right above me. It was coming in for a landing on the secondary runway. It’s creepy how they seem to appear out of nowhere.

After I passed under the flight path to the main runway, a 737 landed. A few seconds later a black duck flew from the river into the plane’s air wake. He went haywire, looking as if he had hit an invisible wall. It was like something out of a cartoon. He somehow gathered himself midair, turned, and hightailed it back to the river where the air was calm.

On the way to Friday Coffee Club, I nearly clipped the concrete base of a wrought iron fence at 15th and Constitution. I had to rein in Big Nellie. Whoa, Nellie. I met up with famous local blogger, bike commuter, and curmudgeon Brian in front of the White House. We chatted until we tied up our steeds outside Swings Coffee Saloon.

Friday Coffee Club was crowded, mostly with people I don’t know.  Even so, I had lively conversations with seven or eight people. When warm weather comes, we will definitely have to  move the group outside.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rootchopper/8561386658/in/photostream

(Please note that WordPress refused to embed the photo of the Friday Coffee Club, even when I used html. What lovely software.)

After FCC, I rode past the wooden elks at the Kennedy Center and across the TR Bridge to Rosslyn. The trip up Lynn Street through the Rosslyn Circle of Death was a challenge. At the I-66 off ramp, a white SUV trying to make a right turn on red blocked my access to the crosswalk.  I yelled to get the driver’s attention since she was looking away from me to see if she could turn. She didn’t hear me. So then I really hollered.  She looked at me from her perch behind the wheel with derision as I rolled in front of her grill. I yelled “Get out of the crosswalk” to her and she honked at me. I’m just trying to keep you from putting me in the ER or the grave, you incompetent, scofflaw dipstick.

A block later I watched as two cars coming down Lee Highway ran the red light on Lynn Street to get onto the I-66 ramp. Don’t mind the rest of us. Getting to the office one minute quicker is far more important than anybody else’s lives.

Another block later at 19th Street, a shuttle with a U.S. Forest Service decal on the side, pulled into the crosswalk on red.  I yelled at the driver who was looking the other way. He couldn’t hear me. Rather than take a chance that he would execute his turn while I was in the crosswalk in front of him,  I stopped. Instead of turning, he waited for the green light. Better safe than roadkill. Still four dangerous driving incidents in a quarter mile is ridiculous.

Once I reached the far side of 19th Street, I encountered the Vamoose bus crowd. Arlington lets intercity bus operators to use the corner of Lynn and 19th as a bus terminal. The Vamoose employee had his back to me when he waved the soon-to-be passengers across the sidewalk in front of me. I duck walked through the crowd. Yabba dabba do.

When I got to the parking garage, I knelt and kissed the ground. I cheated Rosslyn once more.

I rode home into a headwind. I won. No one tried to run me over. I won again.

Tomorrow I rest. Sunday I ride for soup. It’s a Swedish thing.

Last Days of Blindness

Friday’s are usually tough.  This week was different. Wednesday brought a day off from work courtesy of some meteorological legerdemain. I took Thursday off in anticipation of ice on the Mount Vernon Trail. I woke this morning with fresh legs. I needed them.

This whole week has been day after day of  strong winds out of the northwest.  A headwind every morning.  It can be dispiriting. It feels as if you are trying to move forward with the huge hand pushing against your chest.  By the time I reached Old Town I was already sick of it and I was not even half way to DC. In my mirror I spotted a rider who eventually pulled up behind me for protection from the wind. This lasted for about a mile when the rider passed me, probably after realizing that my recumbent was too low to provide much of a wind break. To my surprise the trailing rider was using aero bars. Misery loves company.

I crossed the Potomac on the 14th Street Bridge. The wind was now a cross wind. With the fairing on Big Nellie I can sometimes tack like a sailboat. I wasn’t having much luck though.

I walked into Friday Coffee Club well around 8 a.m. and it was already crowded. Two tables were full and it was still early. I newbie came in and took a spot at my table. He said I looked familiar. As it turns out, he lives in my neighborhood and has seen me voting in my cycling clothes on election day. Small world. Welcome to Coffee Club, Jeff.

Jeff - Friday Coffee Club Noobie

There were perhaps 20 people in attendance. Many of them I didn’t know. Some I had never seen before. And many of the regulars weren’t there. I can’t imagine how crowded it will get when it warms up. At least then we’ll be able to sit outside.

I left Coffee Club in the company of Brian, who works for American University. Brian has a tough uphill ride every morning that he chronicles in his entertaining, informative, witty and grumpy blog. You should read it. It’s way good. We fought our way up G Street through the George Washington University campus. (You can tell it’s a stellar school because they insist on using the word “The” in their name.)

After Brian turned for his long uphill slog, I made for the TR Bridge. It was particularly challenging in the strong cross wind that actually made my fairing flap. I made it without incident and spent the next 8 hours working for the man.

The man is merciful and let me go home to my wife and child. Once clear of the winds in Lynn Street Canyon, I turned onto the Mount Vernon Trail. Tailwind!!!!!  Big Nellie pretended to be going downhill the whole way home.  Near the airport the trail makes a big “S”. As I turned into the S, the tailwind became a cross wind. I literally had to lean into the wind to stay upright. Once out of the S, I could lose myself in thought.

This week the National Women’s Bicycling Forum was held near DC. One of the themes was that the cycling industry does a lousy job of meeting the needs of women cyclists and encouraging women to ride. As I saw tweets during the event, I thought of all the women I have met through Friday Coffee Club in the past year. According to Myers-Briggs I am a huge introvert, so it kind of flabbergasting to me that I know so many women cyclists around here.:

Charmaine, Reba, Mary, Laura, Lauren, Kirsten, Kristin, Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, Katie Ann, Kathy, Rachel, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Heather, Nancy, Jean, Jane, Liz, Crystal, Claire, Leslie, Meg, Florencia, Veronica, Amy, Erika, Shane, Alex, and Bec.

In the first 20 years of cycling as an adult, I can name a whopping total of six women that I rode with: Becca, Anne, Kate (not one of the above Kates), Bev, Jody, and Mrs. Rootchopper.  Times have definitely changed.

By the way, at least two of the women listed above had ridden coast to coast. (One of them actually did the ride during Bikecentennial in 1976.) If you guess who they are, I’ll buy you a coffee next week.

There’s one thing that I am troubled by: what the hell is with all the Kates?

Today marks the end of cycling during Eastern Standard Time. Beginning Monday, I can ride home without headlights in my eyes. It doesn’t take much to make me a happy camper.

The Infinite Bike Commute

It’s Friday. Had to get up early. Had to get out of the house. Conversation and smiling faces awaited at Swings House of Caffeine. So off I rode on Big Nellie. She was missing me after three days of wet-ish weather.

All this switching back and forth has cost me my recumbent legs. Ask anybody who rides one. It’s true. You use different leg muscles on a ‘bent. Spinning is the key. Mashing the pedals is bad. Your arms are rendered useless. They really should put a steering wheel on ‘bents instead of a handlebar because it feels more like driving, except when your going downhill.. Downhills are like luge runs. Woosh!

One of the bald eagles was perched in the tree adjacent to the tree with the Belle Haven nest. He was just hanging out, chewing on his talons, and having a smoke. Actually, I made that part up. It’s hard to tell what he was doing. My suspicion is that eagles perch in trees at sunrise to warm up a bit before heading off to the office. Eagles are not allowed to work at Yahoo.

Somehow I managed to make all the lights going up 15th Street. This is a first. I felt like the caffeine gods were on my side. I ahd to get creative at the White House. Crews closed off Pennsylvania Avenue as they disassembled the viewing stands for the inaugural parade. I rode a windy path through Lafayette Park. Some tourists were walking toward me. A little boy spotted Big Nellie and his eyes widened. You could hear his head saying, “Wow!”  I waved at him. As I went past, I heard him jabbering to his mom about that cool bike. In five more years, he’d bea tween and would be telling her, “That guy looked like such a dork.”

I arrived at Swings ready to medicate. As usual the crowd was chatty. Espresso and the prospect of the weekend perks (sorry) everybody up.

Today’s surprise attendee was Reba. Reba lives down near me, but I haven’t seen her in ages. Welcome back! Bob (Don’t-Call-Me-Rachel) Cannon was at the same table. Screw Siontz and Kirk; come to Friday Coffee Club for all your lawyering needs. We also had Chris, Ricky Lee, Will, John (Mr. Hoppy 100) and Aaron at our table.

I had a chance to talk to GOTB (Groupie-of-the-Blog) Kirsten (officially the bestest hugger at Friday Coffee Club). She keeps asking me to take her on the Rootchopper tour, the one where I summon bald eagles and members of the #bikedc community out of thin air. If I had any cartilage left in my knees I’d do a swap. I’d have her give me the Ultrarunnergilr tour of trail running.  In my 20s and early 30s I ran a lot (My marathon PR was 3:04:29. Never forget it.), but nearly all of it on the roads. Trail running sounds like a lot of fun, although I am not sure I could have ever done the 50K run (over 30 miles) that she did last weekend.

The hope is that when I ride to Rosslyn from Swings I get to go across the TR Bridge without stopping. This has only happened once in the last year. The trail on the bridge is too narrow for safe passage of two bikes so I always end up pulling over and stopping. I will get points for this when I go to bike commuter heaven.

Considering it was Friday and I was tired and grumpy by day’s end, the ride home went lickety split. (Yes. I just said lickety split.) I had a consistent tailwind so I broke 20 miles per hour on several stretches between Rosslyn and Old Town. Yowza.

In Old Town, I checked the flexipost that I hit last night. It looked none the worse for wear. I did notice, however, that it was positioned in the middle of the street directly in line with the right edge of the trail. That explains why I hit it (well, that and my general incompetence). I veered to the right to avoid a couple of cyclists cutting across my direction of travel. When I leaned to head back to the left I hit the post.  The reflective material on the post was facing away from me, which explains why my headlight didn’t illuminate it.

I managed to avoid all obstacles, foreign and domestic, on the rest of the ride home. It was another 150 mile bike commute week.

There was a lot of talk about retirement at the office. Retirement is an infinite bike commute.