Yesterday I took part in the Washington Area Bicyclists Assocation’s Cider Ride. This annual event is about 13 years old. There are three routes; I rode the longest, 60 miles. This is a relatively flat ride, involving only 2,000 feet of climbing. After riding through residential neighborhoods in Northeast DC, participants hook up with the Anacostia River Trail system. The route has used these trails for 11 years after a couple of unpleasant forays in early December on suburban streets.
This year’s version was held in cool and windy conditions. There was no rain but temperatures didn’t seem to crest 60 degrees until the last third of the ride.
I rode with Chris, Michael, and Kevin. Despite the fact that Michael was riding on a bum knee, he kept pace with Chris and Kevin who seemed comfortable rolling along at 15 miles per hour. I decidedly was not. I woefully lagged behind, bothered by a mystery noise coming from my front wheel when I applied my brakes. The first pit stop came at 13 miles at Proteus Bikes in College Park, Maryland. There, a mechanic found the cause of my aggro, a small burr on the right side of my rim. He filed it down with a sanding stone and all was copacetic thereafter.
With my companions itching to ride on, I snarfed a half a donut and a small metal cup (provided to all participants) of warm cider. The next pit stop was 23 miles away. As someone who gets about 15 miles to the donut, I regarded this as a challenge.
After the first pit stop we headed north into the Beltsville Agricultural Preserve where federal farm scientists work on such farm things. (I am a city boy so you’ll get no insights from me.) On the north-ish edge of the Preserve we turned east onto Powder Mill Road, a two-lane highway with smooth pavement and wide, paved shoulders. A couple of miles later we turned into the grounds of the Patuxent Wildlife Research Refuge where the access road wound through pretty darned amazing foliage.
We turned around and headed back the way we came taking a meander through suburban Edmonston, Maryland. At this point we began to whine about the winds which seemed to be headwinds no matter which way we turned.
Pedaling right back into the Agriculture Research Preserve, we headed straight across the mostly barren landscape on the cleverly named Research Road. Because of the shut down, a gate blocked our way but we gingerly rode in the grass around it. Take that, Congress!
Alas, the rest of Research Road climbs up the biggest hill of the ride. Just before the top we came to a gate that is always closed (to prevent commuters from cutting through the Preserve, I guess). Kevin and I walked through the narrow gap around the gate.
We rejoined the speed twins, Chris and Michael, who were waiting patiently at the top of the hill and rolled down to Pit Stop #2 at Buddy Attick Lake Park in Greenbelt. This pit stop is known for serving apple pie but there was no pie this year. (No loss. I’m not a fan.) There were donuts and cider, and plenty of bees competing for the refreshments. I had an entire donut and a cup of cider, thankfully without getting stung or swallowing any of my flying friends.
After the pit stop we returned toward the Anacostia River trail system, Along the way we passed a MAMIL (middle-aged man in lycra) who had crashed in the bike lane. He was being tended to by tow other riders so we soldiered on. Back on the trail system my youthful riding companions dropped me like a marketing call. Thankfully, they waited and led me into Hyattsville where there was some low speed congestion getting onto the Trolley Trail.
The Trolley Trail took us back to the Anacostia River trail system, around Lake Artemesia (which we rode around on the way north), and south to the final pit stop at Bladensburg Waterfront Park. Michael’s knee was starting to hurt so we made short work of the refreshments and headed south on the east side of the Anacostia.
Now Michael’s knee might have been hurting, but Kevin and I still couldn’t keep up with him and Chris. Our travels took us south on the east side of the Anacostia then back north on the west side. Here we rode around the skeleton of RFK Stadium which is being razed for a new football palace. We took the C Street protected cycletrack (which looks like it was transported from a European city. So nice!) on the gradual climb up the east side of Capitol Hill. After playing with cars for a half mile or so we picked up the 1st Street Northeast Cycletrack and connected with the Metropolitan Branch Trail which led us mercifully to the finish.
We convened for post-ride pizza (thanks Chris and Michael) and liquid refreshment at Metrobar, a repurposed Metro subway car.
I drove home with the expectation that I would fall sound asleep during the deciding game of the World Series. I glad I didn’t.
Thanks to the volunteers and WABA staff who woke up early to check us in and endured bees galore at the rest stops. Thanks to Chris, Michael, and Kevin.
And so ends my event riding season. I am pooped.
Getting ready to head back south at the Patuxent Research Refuge
The view at Buddy Attick Lake Park
Amazingly bee-free shot from Buddy Attick bee farm. Photo by Michael.
Michael’s snack at Bladensburg Waterfront Park. Photo by Michael.
We ate all the pizza! (L to R: Michael, Kevin, me, Chris). Photo by Michael.
The event is the 50 States Ride, the Washington Area Bicyclists Association annual trek on the streets of DC. The route rambles all over the city so that participants ride on each of the streets named for a US state (plus Columbia Road for those who want statehood for DC).
The distance is normally about 60 miles. Each year WABA tweaks the route. This year’s version clocked in at 58.4 miles. Nobody complained. Did I mention that the route is notoriously hilly? Well, now I did. And now that I think about it, you should know that the streets are open to car traffic. Hats off to all those DC drivers who waited patiently for us.
According to WABA’s Jordan Mittleman, the route included some 200 turns. The cue sheet, for those of us old timers who hate digital maps, is 22 pages long. I kid you not.
Since I turned 70 this year, I was expecting to be challenged. Indeed I was. I found out when we hit 18th Street Northeast at about 2 1/2 miles into the day that my granny (climbing) gears were not working. Yeah well. Suck it up, gramps.
Weather conditions were as good as it gets. Overcast skies, light breezes, temperatures in the 70s. It was a bit humid but I wasn’t complaining one bit.
So here is the tale of my 17th 50 States Ride.
The Posse
Each year I ride with a group of friends. For the first time that I can recall this year’s posse contained no rookies. Michael, Chris, Kevin, and I are the most experienced. Next come Sara, Neena, Domitille, and Domitille’s husband Timotheé. (Michael has a painful bone bruise in his knee; he would depart the route at about 15 miles, but met us at the finish with pizza in hand.) Lastly, we were joined for the first eight miles by Jon who had to speed ahead after the first pit stop at the eight-mile mark to make a soccer daddy pickup in the afternoon.
Gear Woes
Weirdly, Domitille had the same granny gear problem that I did. Sad face. Sara had an issue with her front derailleur as well but cleverly found a bike shop near the first pit stop and had it repaired.
The Ride Itself
We began near Metrobar in Eckington in Northeast DC, close to the center of the city. To avoid congestion and other problems, we left just before WABA released the first of many groups led by ride marshals.
The first eight miles took us through northeast DC, west of the Anacostia River. We encountered only a couple of hills along the way and, thanks to route changes, we spent all but 200 yards on Michigan and South Dakota Avenues, two notorious car sewers. Heading south we passed Gallaudet University and, shortly thereafter, the ghost bike of our departed friend Dave Salovesh on Florida Avenue.
The route started a spiral through Capitol Hill, the Navy Yard, and Hill East neighborhoods. In five miles we bagged seven states.
Have celery, will ride
As we rode through Hill East and over the river to Anacostia, we began to encounter a problem. The marshal-led groups began to swallow our group up, causing delays at stop lights and, worse, numerous near crashes. We made a nearly three-mile climb up to Alabama Avenue Southeast. We rode on level ground for three miles in an annoying cluster of apparently novice riders mixed with cars and Metrobuses.
As per tradition, I made a wrong turn onto 18th Place Southwest, but corrected myself before trailing riders followed me. We turned down 18th Street Southwest and hit the long mile of Mississippi Avenue with its humongous speed bumps. We then turned straight back up for 3/10s of a mile back to Alabama. Mississippi was so no worth it. On the bright side we were about to begin 16 miles of nearly level terrain.
Another couple of miles mostly on Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard took us downhill to the 11th Street Bridge where Neena has stopped to direct us onto the ramp to the bridge. Thanks, Neena.
Here’s where the congestion really began to cause problems. We now had at least two marshalled groups and our posse all trying to ride on narrow cycletracks. To make matters worse, the marshals stopped to figure out the route. Ugh.
On the Virginia Avenue cycletrack the rides all queued up for nearly a block at a red light. Not gonna work folks. I jumped on an empty adjacent brick sidewalk and rode past the group. The light turned green but the marshal in the lead was not paying attention. No wonder we were clustering up. Only when I rode past him did he wake up. We came to a crosswalk with some pedestrians in it. I slowed and signaled for trailing riders to stop. After we were underway again, the ADD marshal pulled up along side me and told me in a patronizing tone of voice how I did a good thing. Thank you, Mister Wonderful.
After another pit stop we began another spiral in the southern part of Northwest DC. For sanity’s sake, I left the pit stop ahead of the marshal groups. I Street Northwest has a cycletrack with synchronized traffic lights. I sped up to 14 miles per hour and ran the deck. (My friend Brian would call this “a perfect”.) After passing the District Wharf I rode up the hill toward L’Enfant Plaza where I saw two middle aged tourists on rental e-bikes. Rather than use the protected bike lane the first tourist used a curb cut to ride onto the sidewalk. The trailing tourist did the same but hit a low concrete barrier and took a tumble. A pedestrian ran to her aid. The rider landed in some soft-looking grass so I am sure she will be fine after a couple of beverages.
I rode the Case Bridge over the Washington Channel into East Potomac Park to loop back onto Ohio Drive Southeast. As I did I passed back under the bridge to see the parade of marshal-led riders overhead. Soon I found myself riding on Independence Avenue in a big gap between marshalled riders. Nice.
Our route took us around the Capitol and over near Union Station. The posse had caught up to me here. The next few miles involved a short ride on a sidewalk to Delaware Avenue and a yards-long turn on and off Louisiana Avenue. (We actually missed this one a couple of years ago.)
We took D Street into the core of downtown and made our way to our third pit stop. Domitille and I hoofed it three blocks to a restroom. I’d never have found it without her. South one block. East two blocks. South one block. Down a glass elevator! Maybe WABA should have a 50 bathroom hike.
After the pit stop we played Pac-Man, wending through downtown, Adams Morgan, and Kalorama picking up eight states land Columbia Road. This was a bit traffic-y but we were no longer riding with the marshalled groups.
At E Street Northwest we crossed over Rock Creek Park into Georgetown. It was time to get serious.
We rode the rollers on Reservoir Avenue past Georgetown University Hospital and the French and German Embassies. After a one-mile respite on MacArthur Boulevard we turned to climb the dreaded Palisades hill. We climbed for about a mile. Some of the grades were around 12 percent. I stopped once to catch my breath and let my granny-deprived legs cool down. But I rode the whole damned thing.
Domitille had to walk some of the hill but Timotheé, rode back down the hill to escort her. Awww.
The climb was followed by a short descent to another half mile uphill stretch to Cathedral Heights. Fortunately we had only a mile to go before our next pit stop at a Wegman’s in the City Ridge development.
After about a 20 minute rest, we forged ahead around Fort Reno and through Chevy Chase, DC, picking up five more states in four miles. Oregon Avenue took us down into Rock Creek Park. Shady. Car free. Yay. Short-lived. Boo. We climbed a mile out of the park, topping out at Alaska Avenue, fittingly the northern most state street on the route. This was the last big climb of the day. Double yay. As we turned off of Alaska Avenue we were captured in all our sweaty splendor by the camera of Patti Heck. Each year, rain or shine, Patti takes pictures of the riders here. Over 500 pictures this year alone.
We crossed into Tacoma for our final pit stop at the home of Mike and Lisa and their cats (so many cats). Such nice people. With eight miles to go, we could smell the finish. After scarfing some snacks, we set off down to Petworth for five more states in three miles. Sara and I lost contact with the rest of the posse but picked up Cathy and a young guy who’s name I didn’t get. Nice people, We rolled over to and down Hawaii, our 50th state! (Well played, WABA.)
We continued down to Catholic University. At one point the route cuts through the campus but Cathy convinced us that simply riding the adjacent Metropolitan Branch Trail straight to the finish made more sense. We finished at 4 p. m., about eight hours after we started.
At the finish, we picked up our t-shirts and re-joined the posse for post-ride drinks and food. I was feeling every one of my 70 years.
The Posse: (L to R) Kevin, Sara, Neena, Michael, Domitille, Chris, Me, and Timotheé
Congrats to the posse. Well done, especially Sara, Domitille, and Timotheé who did the ride on next to no training.
As for me, despite all the miles I ride, I was a hurting unit. 50 > 70 it seems. I should have eaten the celery.
Thanks
Thanks to the crew at WABA that put this whole thing together. This year’s course tweaks made for an interesting ride. Also, I am thankful that this year there was more than enough water and snacks at the pit stops. And there were plenty of t-shirts for late arriving riders at the finish line.
WABA people with volunteers at the start
Also, thanks to the volunteers at the pit stops, especially Mike and Lisa.
Saturday was the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s annual big fundraising event: the 50 States Ride. The ride is a triumph of marketing over sanity. Participants pay $80 to ride 60 hilly miles in the heat and humidity (when it’s not raining), all within the eight wards of the District of Columbia. Did I mention that the streets are open to traffic? We’re havin’ fun now!
This year was the 21st running of the 50 States and my 16th time participating. I’ve been riding WABA events with Chris, Michael, and Kevin for several years now. Remarkably they have not grown tired of my company. A couple of years ago Chris invited Sara with whom he worked. The five of us form the core members of the posse. (Domitille, a sixth recent member, had to miss this year’s ride due to injury. We hope to have her back in the fold for WABA’s Cider Ride in November.) Our posse members invite others to join us. This year Chris invited Isabon, Sara invited Jenna and Richard, Kevin invited Neena. Isabon brought her father, Wolfgang. Monica, who rode the last couple of rides with us, decided to volunteer at a pit stop but sent along Constance and Mac.
The course changes every year. Lately it has gone clockwise around the city. The course is tweaked to show off new bicycle infrastructure, sponsors’ projects, and changes to the cityscape. Having done this ride since 2006, I can attest to the fact that DC today is vastly different than it was 18 years ago.
Funny. It looks flat on this map.
The dozen of us lit out from the start in the Edgewood neighborhood smack dab in the middle of DC. We timed our departure to avoid other groups whom the ride organizers send out at intervals with ride marshals. We don’t mean to be antisocial but when you get over 20 people of different skill levels riding together in the city the congestion can get stressful. There were a few miles where we were bunched up with other groups but by and large we were successful riding as an independent unit. As is often the case, we adopted a couple of course marshals, Micah and Stephen, along the way. At the rest stop around 45 miles into the ride I was greeted by an old friend. John is the father of one of my son’s best friends from high school. He was riding the event for the first time and looked considerably fresher than me.
Two Johns at the Wegman’s pit stop in Northwest.
Michael decided to ride the entire ride on bikeshare bikes. Every so often he’d veer off course to trade in his bike for another. I think he gets some sort of points from the bikeshare folks and avoids rental charges. He managed to obtain electric assist bikes for the hillier sections. We hate Michael.
Chris told me that his GPS file indicated there are 11 significant climbs along the route. I counted 45, a triumph of misery over digital mapping science. The worst climb goes one steep mile from MacArthur Boulevard to Macomb Street in the northwest section of the city. After a brief downhill, this monstrosity is followed by a second, soul-sucking half-mile climb up Cathedral Heights. Six miles later we descended into Rock Creek Park only to climb right back out for a mile. Dang.
Instead of using the digital file, I use the paper cue sheet. Actually, it’s a 18-page booklet containing nearly 270 cues. This virtually ensures that I will make a wrong turn. This year I set a PR, making four wrong turns. (Actually one was semi-intentional as I saw three of our riders obeying the GPS audio instruction and turning a block early and going off route. I followed them in order to lead them back to the course.) Ironically, earlier in the ride after we crossed over the Washington Channel, a course marshal made a wrong turn entering East Potomac Park. I ignored the error and stayed on route. The Mule abides.
The clockwise course seemed somehow hillier than in prior years. I struggled for most of the ride even though The Mule had a new, lower climbing gear thanks to Beth at Bikes at Vienna. It may have just been the heat (mid-80s) and humidity at work or perhaps the fact that I’m old, decrepit, and grumpy.
By 58 miles I had had enough. We could have gone straight to the finish but the course meandered through the campus of The Catholic University, along the super nice cycletrack on Irving Avenue Northwest, and past the bizarre looking McMillan Sand Filtration site which is being developed into a mixed used community by one of the event sponsors. After McMillan we had a tedious one-mile ride in heavy traffic to loop back to the finish.
After the ride, the posse hung out at the after party which, owing to our slow riding pace, was all but over. Still we ate some sammies and hydrated our weary bodies. (I went all Stanley Kowalski and had a Stella.) I guess the ride was a success because several posse members expressed an interest in doing the (considerably easier) 60-mile Cider Ride in November. Well done, y’all.
Most of the posse after the ride. Clockwise from left: Richard, Chris, Me, Sara, Michael, Constance, Mac, Jenna, Micah, Kevin, Neena.
Many thanks to all the volunteers and WABA staff for all their hard work on this event. Special thanks to Mike and Lisa who convert their home in Tacoma into a very welcoming pit stop every year. And to Patti Heck who stood at the corner of Alaska Avenue and Geranium Street Northwest to take photos (links above) of riders as she has done for many years now.
Once again it’s time to take stock in stuff that happened over the last 12 months. Here we go in no particular order.
The Boy Comes Home – After four years, our son came home from Thailand for a visit. We rode bikes and went to baseball games and hung out. During his travels, he also managed to see West Virginia, Indiana, Chicago, Montana, New York City, and Romania. Go figure. It seems impossible that he is 32 and living on the other side of the world. If you ever want to learn to scuba dive in Thailand, he’s your man.
Cold, Rain, Hills, Smoke, Mud – Bike Tour 2023 – I’ve never ridden in Maine but I’ve been to Oklahoma. Okay, I’ve never ridden in Oklahoma either, but the line worked for Hoyt Axton. After the southern half of the Adventure Cycling Atlantic Coast Route by riding from DC to Key West in 2017, I decided to finish the route by riding from DC to Bar Harbor, Maine. Rather than re-trace my steps down the coast, I made a big loop from DC to Bar Harbor to Lake Ontario to Niagara Falls to Erie, PA to Pittsburgh to DC. The first month was cold and wet and brutally hilly. I managed to avoid the smoke from Canadian wildfires until Erie, PA where I rode in Code Purple air with an N95 mask on. No problem. I rode in a foreign country for the first time, riding along the Niagara River in stormy Ontario. The final push on the C&O, which was supposed to be the easy part, featured slogging through miles and miles of thick mud and a brutal hike over a mountain to bypass the closed Paw Paw tunnel.
Bike Events – I rode five bike events this year. The Washington Area Bicyclists Association changed the name of its May ride from the Spring Fling to the Bike How You Like Ride. I rode the Spring Fling a few years ago and it was brutal. I swore I wouldn’t do it again. Fool that I am, I learned the morning of the ride that the BHYLR was the same course. Oof. Somehow it was easier this time. In September, I rode the 50 States Ride for the 15th time with a splendid posse. The route took us all over DC clockwise for the first time but we still had to contend with a brutal climb through the Palisades to Cathedral Heights. In October, I rode the Great Pumpkin Ride in the Virginia Piedmont for the umpteenth time. This time I brought my own snacks and rode it solo nonstop. The weather was perfect and avoiding long lines at the pit stops cut my time by nearly two hours. In November, I rode the Cider Ride with most of my 50 States posse. On this year’s ride one member of the posse rode all 60 miles on little more than water, a slice of apple pie, and a stalk of celery. Incroyable! Later that month I rode the Bike for Your Life event. The point of the ride was to raise awareness of the problem of traffic violence in our area. We passed four ghost bikes (indicating where a driver killed a cyclist) before ending at the ghost bike of a five-year old girl.
Big Nellie Hits 50,000 Miles – It’s been over 20 years but persistence paid off as Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, finally broke the 50,000 mile barrier. (This does not count the hundreds of miles ridden on the bike indoors during the winter months.)
Little Nellie and The Tank Re-born – I had all but stopped riding Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, because of the intense lower back pain I experienced after even short rides. I decided to swap out the drop handlebars for more upright H bars. It made a world of difference and I ended up riding the bike over 2,000 miles this year. In late December I was ready to get rid of The Tank, my Surly CrossCheck. Riding it gave me weeks of intense nerve pain in my back, arms, shoulders, and neck. Then I made seemingly minor adjustments to the seat and handlebar height. The bike now goes considerably faster with less effort and my nerve problems have all but disappeared. With a few twists of an allen key and some headset spacers, I saved a bike and avoided the medical merry-go-round for the winter.
50th High School Reunion – I attended my 50th high school reunion. My high school classmates are so old! During the trip, I visited with family and did a bike ride with my brother Jim on the new rail trail that runs from the Hudson River to the village of Voorheesville west of Albany. I also managed to check out the Walkway over the Hudson in Poughkeepsie, the home of Franklin Roosevelt in Hyde Park, the graves of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt in Hyde Park and of Chester A. Arthur near Albany, and my parents’ and my brother Mike’s graves. I also found the weathered tombstone of my great grandfather Sylvester.
King Lear at Shakespeare Theater – My wife, daughter, and I saw a mind blowing performance of Patrick Page as King Lear, He stole the show when we saw him as Iago in Othello many years ago but his Lear was next level stuff. From the second he stepped onto the stage we were gobsmacked. It helped that we were in the second row.
TheMule Gets Some TLC – I took The Mule into the bike doctor for a physical and found out that, among many other things, the rims had multiple cracks in them. The new rims were right as rain after my summer bike tour. Later in the year, after years of frustration over rear brake rubbing issues, I finally forked over the big bucks and had an expensive brake installed. It works great.
Crowded House – My favorite band from the Antipodes was supposed to play DC in September 2022 but the drummer injured his back. I can relate. The concert was rescheduled for March and was worth the wait. Liam Finn, a band member, opened the night with a frenetic solo performance. The main event was terrific, marred only by two drunken idiots who sat in the row behind us and talked loudly through most of the songs.
Museum of African American History – I finally got to see this amazing new Smithsonian museum. We spent hours in the place and only saw half the exhibits, mostly about slavery, Jim Crow, and civil rights. I need to go back to see the rest, most of which is likely to be more upbeat.
And one more for Nigel Tufnel: In January I became a lifetime member of the Adventure Cycling Association. Without ACA maps and advice, I’d never have done so much touring or had so much fun. I should have done this years ago (and saved 20 years worth of annual membership fees) but I didn’t think I’d ever do this much touring.
This year for the first time I participated in the Ride for Your Life, an event that is tied to World Remembrance Day for Traffic Victims. The purpose of the ride is to remember those who have been killed in our area while using our roads. The motivating force behind the event is Dan Langenkamp. Last year Dan’s wife Sarah was run over by a flatbed truck and killed in Bethesda, Maryland while riding home from a daytime event at her sons’ school.
The 17-mile ride connected the dots between five ghost bikes. Traffic safety advocates place these bikes painted white at the sites where people have been killed. They are grim reminders that road users need to be mindful of vulnerable road users.
After Dan and others gave some speeches, several hundred riders headed down Old Georgetown Road in Bethesda. Within a half mile we passed the ghost bike of Enzo Alvarenga who was 19 when her was killed in 2022. His family stood around the bike and his grieving mother said “Thank you” through her tears as we rode past.
We crossed the road and soon passed another ghost bike, that of 17-year-old Jake Cassell who was killed three years ago. (The four-lane highway now has protected bike lanes on either side, evidence that our civic leaders often wait until it’s too late to make simple safety modifications.)
After a meander through some neighborhood streets, we took the Capital Crescent Trail to Georgetown. Along the way we rode on a bridge over River Road. Down below was Sarah’s ghost bike.
The group proceeded cautiously, mostly in single file, as they passed dozens of weekend trail users enjoying the sunny 50-degree weather. We stopped at Georgetown Waterfront Park to regroup then proceeded across downtown DC past the fourth ghost bike, that of Nijad Huseynov, a 23-year-old graduate student from Azebaijan. After crossing into the Northeast quadrant of the city, we ended up in the seemingly serene residential neighborhood of Brookland. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you were in a small town. Lovely little single-family houses along two-lane streets with sidewalks. Each intersection seemed to have four stop signs and crosswalks. It was in a crosswalk at 14th and Irving Streets Northeast where five-year-old Allie Hart was killed by the driver of a passenger van . The van, like so many others in the area, drove through a stop sign. The intersection is next to Allie’s school where she had been attending kindergarten.
Allie Hart’s ghost bike.
There were more speeches. Allie’s mother told us of her dashed dreams for her daughter. I looked around and saw tears in the eyes of the people in the crowd. Christy Kwan of DC Families for Safe Streets spoke about how her organization, here and with chapters all over the country, works to advocate for the cause.
Dan and one of his sons stood near the bike. His son, perhaps ten years old, had ridden the entire route. He sported a red motocross helmet and cool reflective son glasses. He reminded me of my own son who, at about the same age, proudly rode his bike in an event through the streets of Baltimore so many years ago.
I left the ride and headed back up to North Bethesda to get my car. (The start was over 30-miles from home so riding there would have been quite a slog on a cold morning.) My route took me across DC to Rock Creek Park. Once on Beach Drive I traveled about ten miles, nearly car-free. The cool breeze and the low-angled sunlight made for a meditative ride.
We all know someone who has been hit by a car. The lucky ones, we (my wife, Charmaine, Rachel, Jeff, Nelle, Kate, and me, to name but a few) survive. Others like Dave and Lorena aren’t so fortunate.
It happens every autumn. Seemingly sensible people pay good money to ride 62 miles all over Washington, DC for the right to say, “I rode 50 states in a day.” The 50 States Ride is the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s biggest fundraising ride. Participants ride through all eight wards of the city, up and down hills, through alleys, on side paths, over bridges, and past stadia (active and derelict) following a route that takes them on the streets named for all 50 states plus the District of Columbia (Columbia Road to be specific). The event takes place on open streets, meaning riders share the roads with everyday DC area drivers. Eek.
This year was the 20th anniversary, not to mention my personal 15th anniversary, of the event. Every year the route is tweaked, partly to make things interesting for returning riders but also to guide riders through interesting new sites like new multipurpose developments and new bike infrastructure. The organizers at WABA threw participants a curve ball this year by changing the direction of travel from counterclockwise to clockwise. Once familiar streets were now backwards. Bring it on.
Although the ride is 62 miles long, if feels like it is much longer. DC is surprisingly hilly. And, like any big city, has scores of stops signs and traffic lights. You have to slog your way up the hills, but the downhills are interrupted by traffic lights and such. This makes the route feel much longer. It also means that it takes about 50 percent longer than a 62-mile ride in the country.
I arrived at the start (and finish) at the Kraken indoor sports facility at 7 a.m. Kraken is pretty much in the middle of the city. I met up with my posse, a rag tag group of people, many of whom were new to me. Posse regulars Michael B., Kevin W., and Chris M. returned for the fifth or sixth time. Sara, a 2022 50 States rookie, came as well. Domitille, who joined the five of us on the 2023 Cider Ride last November, surprised me by joining the gang. I invited Monica who normally volunteers to sell merchandise at WABA events. Monica is a veteran of many DC Bike Party events. These are anarchic rides at night through the center of the city. Monica make a good anarchist. Rounding out the group were Jacob and Bryan, and Lili and Nina.
The twelve of us launched at 7:45 following the course through Northeast DC. The clockwise routing meant that we rode on Michigan, South Dakota, and Montana Avenues before they became mid-day traffic sewers. We continued south through Ivy City and Trinidad to the Capitol Hill and Hill East neighborhoods knocking off West Virginia, Maryland, Tennessee, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, and Kentucky is rapid succession.
Next we cruised along the west side of the Anacostia River and passed RFK Stadium, former home of the Washington [Old-Racist-Name] Football team. After a pit stop, we picked off Oklahoma Avenue, crossed the Anacostia River and, using trails, side streets, an alley, and a pedestrian bridge, we made our way to Minnesota Avenue in Southeast DC. Minnesota is another trafficy mess but the new route kept us on it for only a tenth of a mile.
Winding our way through streets in Anacostia, we came to the first hill of the day, the climb up Texas Avenue to, eventually, Alabama Avenue. We stayed on Alabama for three miles, the second half of which was a screaming downhill. I blew right past the left turn on 18th Street, thereby continuing my tradition of messing up at least once during the ride.
After I did a u-turn, I headed down 18th Street to Mississippi Avenue. Mississippi would be a great one-mile, flat romp but for the enormous speed humps every two hundred yards. At Wheeler Road, we climbed up a steep hill back to Alabama. After some side streets, we turned onto Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, the main drag of Anacostia. MLK goes through the Saint Elizabeth psychiatric hospital complex (once home to John Hinkley, Jr.) then downhill toward the elevation of the Anacostia River. I bombed down this hill, barely touching my brakes. The bumpy asphalt made for a scary fun descent. The rest of the posse probably thought I was crazy. Who am I to disagree?
We crossed back over the Anacostia on the 11th Street Bridge and followed a path on the river back along the Navy Yard complex until we reached a pit stop across the street from Nationals Park. This was the half way point. The posse was still in one piece although a few of us were pretty worn out from the big climb to Alabama. I let the rookies know that the next eight miles were relatively flat. (Yeah, suuuurrre.)
With temperatures rising into the seventies, layers were removed for the second half.
We left the stop and rode past Nats Park, Audi Field, and Fort McNair on a series of protected bike lanes. M Street turned into Maine Avenue, past the District Wharf neighborhood. After a short rise to L’Enfant Promenade we used a side path along I-395 to cross Washington Channel to reach Ohio Drive in East Potomac Park.
The 3.5 mile ride down to Hains Point was a nice break from car traffic, but soon we were back in the thick of things riding up 15th Street to Independence Avenue, heading east. A zig and a zag had us riding on Virginia Avenue for a few blocks. More zigging and zagging put us onto Washington Avenue at the base of Capitol Hill.
D and 2nd Streets took us gradually over the hill, and with a few more turns and a side walk we were on Delaware Avenue on the north side of the Capitol. After riding down the hill, we were to take a right on Louisiana then a quick left (after 0 miles on the cue sheet) onto North Capitol. (We actually missed the right turn and only a day later did I realize that the slip lane we used to turn onto Louisiana was actually North Capitol Street. Many other riders went up Louisiana to E Street, missing North Capitol entirely. The confusion is really the product of the fact that the DC street grid includes two grids, one at 45 degrees to the other. Oy!) In any case, we diffidently tagged Louisiana then quickly turned back onto North Capitol.
For the next four miles we rambled through downtown bagging New Jersey, Indiana, New York, Vermont, and Rhode Island Avenues, stopping at a pit stop along the way.
The route became a bit more rolling as it crossed up and past the Adams Morgan and Kalorama neighborhoods using New Hampshire and Florida Avenues, California Street, Wyoming Avenue, and Columbia Road before riding briefly past several embassies on Massachusetts Avenue.
Having disposed of several states in a couple of miles, we now crossed Rock Creek Park on the Q Street bridge into and through Georgetown, exiting to the west on Reservoir Road. Reservoir took us to MacArthur Boulevard which was mercifully flat, the calm before the storm.
With a right onto Arizona Avenue, we began the big hurt: up steep Garfield Street for a lung-burning quarter mile. Garfield topped out at University Terrace which continued up for another quarter mile. (This climb was part of my first two 50 States Rides back in 2006 and 2007 except this time the pavement was new and smooth.) University connected with still more uphill on Loughboro Road which became Nebraska Avenue.
I had been trying to ride just ahead of the posse most of the day in the hope of spreading us out a bit. For a good deal of the ride, however, our group was joined by other riders making my good intentions futile. When we reached Garfield, I decided to shift into my granny gear, find a comfortable rhythm, and climb as if on my own. Once I had the rhythm I stuck with it and I made it up in good shape.
After a bit more climbing we turned onto Macomb Street. At the top of one last bit of uphill, I stopped to wait with Monica for the posse to reassemble.
No rest for the weary was the order of the hour as we dipped and climbed over Cathedral Heights on New Mexico and Idaho Avenues coming to a pit stop at the new City Ridge development. This new neighborhood epitomizes something that I love about this ride: every year, the ride showcases new features of this dynamic city.
At the pit stop I learned that an hour earlier Annette had texted us that she had a flat. I had no idea that we had lost her. We lingered at the stop for 20 minutes or so as Lili and Nina arrived looking tired but determined.
They elected to rest a bit more as the remaining posse members headed out for the last 15 miles. The route took us briefly on busy Wisconsin Avenue before winding through side streets around Fort Reno to Connecticut Avenue. After Connecticut, we rode through Chevy Chase DC using Nevada and Utah Avenues.
Next was the dip into the urban canyon of Rock Creek Park, riding on Oregon Avenue along the way. After a mile of riding the flats on the park floor we turned to climb out of the park using windy, shaded Sherrill Drive.
After a merciful red light, we took a left on 16th Street and a right onto Alaska Avenue, appropriately the northernmost state street on the route. Turning off Alaska onto Geranium Street, we passed Patti Heck, an amateur photographer who takes pictures of every rider who passes by.
The downhill on Geranium took us into Takoma DC where we stopped at the last pit stop at the home of Mile and Lisa on 8th Street. Snacks! Mile helped Rosanne with a problematic shifter cable. Eight iles left babee!
As we were about to roll out, Lili and Nina arrived giving us confidence that they would finish the trek in our wake.
We headed south and eventually east across the Petworth area, conquering North Dakota, Missouri, Colorado, Georgia, Arkansas, Iowa, Kansas, and Illinois. The posse could smell the finish line.
At this point, Michael, who knows the city far better than I, was leading. (Okay, he also had the GPS file of the route pointing the way, but still.) I would surely have taken us off course at least twice. We finally reached the 50th State: Hawaii. (Well played WABA.)
After that, it was downhill and past Catholic University and back through Eckington to the finish at Kraken.
We assembled inside for food and drink and conversation. Normally, at least one person says, “Never again” but not this time. There was even talk of re-uniting for the Cider Ride in November.
What fools these bicyclists be.
Many thanks to the good folks at WABA, especially Jordan Mittelman. Jordan was the lead staff person who designed the clockwise route and had to deal with an unprecedented, one-week weather delay. Thanks also to the volunteers who staffed the start, the pits stops, and the finish as well as the course marshals who did their best to keep us safe throughout the ride.
I have no idea what these symbols meanLogo from back of shirt
Last Saturday was the final event of my bicycling year, the 60-mile Cider Ride. This event is run annually by the Washington Area Bicyclists Association (WABA). I’ve ridden all six Cider Rides.. The first two were held on suburban roads in December. Riding in 40-degree weather on roads with impatient Maryland drivers did not make for a fun time. The second Cider Ride also featured rain. Woo boy. Thankfully my friend Reba’s chain broke about 13 miles into the event. We spent about a half hour in the cold rain trying in vain to fix it but we had neither the parts nor the expertise to get her rolling again. Cold and wet, we called for the WABA sag wagon and Gina picked us up in her blissfully warm van.
Ever since that lovely day, the event has been held in early November. This year’s event featured light breezes and 75 degree temperatures.
I rode in a group of ten riders. Michael, Kevin, and Chris and I have been doing WABA events together for several years. We rode the 50 States ride together in September. Chuck, Catherine, Jonah, and Sara who were also part of our 2022 50 States posse joined us for this ride as well. Our 50 States alums welcomed Jean and Domitille. It was a coincidence that they are both French. I seem to be making a habit of meeting French bicyclists after chatting with the French sisters in Boulder, Utah in 2018 and to two separate French riders in close succession this summer near the Oxbow, Oregon this summer.
Domitille only recently moved to DC so she was not at all familiar with where we were going. And she expressed uncertainty about her ability to make it beyond 30 miles. Little did she know that we at the Rootchopper Institute specialize in the care and support of newbies – such as Chris and Katie (Cider Ride), and Shane, Veronica, Richard, Tito, Jeremy, Emilia, Larraine, Jeannie, Elizabeth, Lisa, and Kristen (50 States Ride).
At about 9:15 we were off. The ride took us through middle-class, residential Northeast DC into Mt. Rainier, Maryland. There we jumped on a succession of bike trails along the Anacostia River and it’s northeastern tributary. Occasionally we’d ride under a canopy of trees with leaves floating down like giant puffy orange snowflakes. Near College Park we passed through a running event. Here I was surprised as I passed my old biking friend Lisa running in the opposite direction. Hi Lisa
Around the University of Maryland campus and the College Park airport we spun. Michael who knows these trails and the course by heart, led the way, keeping a steady 12 mile per hour pace. We arrived at the first pit stop at Proteus Bicycles in College Park. Warm cider and donuts! Yes!
Domitille pulled out a bag of personal healthful snacks and pulled out a stalk of celery. Domitille, you got some learnin’ to do. The truth is that the food table included healthful things like bananas and apples but they were right next to the icing-covered chocolate donuts. Mon Dieu!
In her defense, Domitille did explain to us how celery, in addition to being nutritionally beneficial, is every bit as good at cleaning your teeth as a toothbrush and toothpaste. Oh, give me some of that dental goodness! On my next event ride I’ll be sure to pack some Colgate.
All kidding aside, she was holding up quite well and having a good time so who am I to deny her such utterly healthy habits.
With full tummies and clean teeth, we headed off towards the Greenbelt USDA research farmlands. At the pit stop, I had assured Domitille that there was only one bad hill on the entire course. Sadly, I had forgotten about the four miles of rollers along Beaver Dam Road. It’s a wonder she didn’t whack me with a celery stalk.
Once clear of the farm land we rode into the Patuxent Research Refuge. It was a lovely three miles out and back through the woods. The turnaround had a pit stop of sorts: no food, just bathrooms. As we rode back toward the farm area we split off to the right, riding a big circle through a suburban neighborhood. I somehow caught my stride and sped clear of the group. They reeled me in after a mile or so. Back at the farmland we used Research Road to cross our outbound path. Now we had a noticeable headwind just in time for the day’s big climb. (At this point I was hoping that Domitille did not have a knife in her food bag.)
We all made it up the hill and around a couple of annoying gates designed to keep drivers from cutting through the Greenbelt neighborhood ahead. A mile of so later we arrived at Buddy Attucks Park and our second pit stop. There was more cider. More donuts. Snacks. And pie! Pumpkin or apple. Or, as Sara was to discover, BOTH! Also, there were lots of bees buzzing about. I made sure to check my cider cup before drinking.
By now we had gone about 35 miles. Domitille was holding up fine. Maybe there’s something to that celery thing after all. We headed back toward DC. Our route took us around Lake Artemsia which we had skirted a few hours earlier. Down the Northeast Branch of the Anacostia, the route took some streets through Hyattsville to ride the Trolley Trail. It was hard not to stop at the gastropubs along the trail but somehow we managed. (Did you know that IPA makes an excellent mouthwash?)
Back to the NE Branch Trail we crossed the Anacostia at Bladensburg and stopped for our last rest stop. I ate an apple. Domitille ate a donut. Will wonders never cease?
The next ten miles involved a ride down the river on the Anacostia River Trail (ART). We rode past an athletic field where a high school cross country race was underway. I must say some of the runners look quite unhappy with the heat and humidity. At Eleventh Street, we crossed back over the river and headed north to the RFK Stadium complex. We rode around the hulking decrepit concrete hulk, Joe and I reminisced about separately attending the Tibetan Freedom concert where lightning struck a young woman. (It was in my seating section. I was getting some liquid refreshment on the concourse above when I heard the BOOM.)
D to 14th to C Streets Northeast took us to and around Lincoln Park. After a brief spin along Massachusetts Avenue we rode around Columbus Circle and up the 1st Street cycle track to M Street. M took us to the Metropolitan Branch Trail which we rode a mile or so back to the finish at MetroBar.
We celebrated with a group picture and some snacks and liquids. We all made it in great shape. Celery and donuts for the win!
Kevin and Domitille following Jean on the Northeast Branch Trail
Me, powered by donuts on Beaver Dam Road.
Catherine leading Domatille on the ART
Kevin, Me, Michael, Jean, and Jacob on the ART
Chris, Kevin, Jean, Michael, Monica (our finish line greeter), Me, Jonah. Domitille, Sara, Catherine and Joe. All smiles after nearly 60 miles of riding. Not pictured: Chuck (who finished as well, see below).
L-R: Chuck, Me, Micael, Domitlle, Joe, Sara, Kevin, and Jonah at Metrobar after the ride
The DC area does a pretty darn good job of falling. Here’s some examples.
Foliage
It always seems to take longer than last year, but the fall foliage around these parts, while not in the same league as Vermont, isn’t half bad. My vote for tree of the year is this one, located near the Virginia side of the Memorial Bridge.
Stopped me in my tracks
Cider
The last bicycling event ride of the year, at least for me, is the Cider Ride. It is staged by the Washington Area Bicyclists Association. There are three routes of which I picked the longest, 55-mile one. The course winds its way up and down the branches of the Anacostia River and spends about ten miles meandering around a United States Agriculture Department research facility and its adjacent suburban neighborhoods. On the return the course passes through Greenbelt (which I always confuse with Beltsville). The three pit stops had dozens and dozens of donuts (I had one with white frosting and sprinkles), apple pie, and, of course, warm cider. (The Greenbelt pit stop also includes yellow jackets which find cider irresistible.) Normally I don’t like cider but on a cool autumn afternoon, warm cider is just about the perfect drink.
Kevin W. contacted me the night before and we rode together from the start. At the first pit stop about 13 miles into the ride at Proteus Bicycles in College Park we were joined by Michael B. These two gents have been the anchors of my last several 50 States Ride posses and are the best riding companions. They wait for me at turns because I am old and they are not. At the end of the ride we indulged in libations. A pleasant time was had. As you can see, the weather was splendid.
Kevin (L) and Michael at the after party
A big thanks to the folks at WABA who spend many hours planning this event. On the day of the event they get up way too early and resist the temptation to eat all the donuts. So thanks to all the WABA staff Garrett, Ursula, Kristin, and, Anna (as well as any I haven’t met or didn’t see), and the scads of volunteers. Somehow volunteer Dana got assigned pie duty at the furthest pit stop from his house in Arlington. Hope you didn’t get stung. And a big shout out and thanks for the hug to Monica, the queen of merch at the after party.
Floods
Although not strictly limited to autumn, the flooding of the Potomac River is always an interesting thing to see. A week ago, we had the highest water since the epic storm surge from hurricane Isabel in 2003. This picture of the lower end of King Street (the main tourist street) in Old Town Alexandria was taken several hours before the high water mark. News reports showed a couple canoeing here.
Fall Back
We just switched back to standard time this weekend. One annoying aspect is that I have to reset all four of my bike computers. Of course, I have three different kinds, each it its own sequence of buttons to be pushed. My big worry is that when I start futzing around with the buttons I’ll accidentally delete the mileage on the odometers. So, before I start, I take a picture of all four computers’ odometer settings. I’m a bit over 155,000 miles on these four bikes. This means I ride a lot and I, and my bikes, are old. (This does not include mileage from my Raleigh Grand Prix and my Trek 1200, both of which left the stable decades ago.)
Clockwise from top left: The Mule (Specialized Sequoia), Big Nellie (Tour Easy recumbent), Little Nellie (Bike Friday New World Tourist), and my Surly Cross Check.
Welcome to the El Norte Zoo
It has now been over two years since the Irish government received my application for citizenship. (My paternal grandmother was born in County Mayo.) Between Brexit and the pandemic, the delays have become rather frustrating. I guess I’ll have another Guinness while I wait.
My experience is not uncommon so I get chuffed when I learn that someone I know has been granted U. S. citizenship. The latest is my friend Peter’s wife Ona. I confess that I barely know her but it’s quite obvious that Peter is an hombre con suerte. Ona became a US citizen over the weekend. I saw her at the Cider Ride after party and she was still beaming. Congratulations, Ona.
The 50 States Ride, the Washington Area Bicyclist Association’s signature event, is my (nearly) annual exercise in self abuse on a bicycle. I’ve done it all but three years since 2006. making this my 13th time. The course is about 60 miles long, weaving through all eight wards of DC so that riders pedal their steeds on the avenues named for all 50 States.
Each year the course is tweaked. This year for the first time that I know of the start of the course was moved from centrally located Adams Morgan to Yards Park in near Southeast DC, on the banks of the Anacostia River. The change moved the first 15 miles of flat terrain to the end of the ride. Yay! Oh, wait.
Starting at Yards Park meant that the first of countless hill climbs came at about one mile into the ride instead of 18 miles. Put on your big boy pants, this is gonna hurt.
And it did. Riding up Martin Luther King Boulevard in Anacostia, I was dropped by my posse – Michael B., Kevin W., Peter K., and Chris M., augmented by Shira and Steve O. piloting tandems with blind stokers. All of these riders are young whippersnappers and I knew I had no hope of keeping up.
After a brief descent from Alabama Avenue and a flat section on Mississippi Avenue we climbed right back up to an even higher point on Alabama. Dropped again. My posse humanely waited for me to catch up. Another flat-ish section was followed by a descent to Texas and another climb back up. Whose idea was this, anyway?
Kelsea (a short-lived addition to the posse) and Kevin (left); WABA’s Colin (with name tag) and Michael B. (in red)
The next 10 miles or so was relatively easy as the route descended to and over the Anacostia to the Hill East and Capitol Hill neighborhoods. Despite its name, Capitol Hill isn’t much of a hill. We rode north through NoMa and into Trinidad past my friend Dave’s ghost bike (a bicycle painted all white as a memorial to and reminder of Dave’s demise from an out-of-control driver in a stolen van).
After a brief pit stop, we began to climb again up aptly named Montana Avenue and up 18th Street Northeast. This long stretch on 18th was designed to put us on busy and traffic crazy South Dakota Avenue for the shortest distance possible. After three quick turns we were headed southwest on busy and traffic crazy Michigan Avenue. We took the lane and rode in a pack which gave us the illusion of safety.
Once past Catholic University we began another climb up bumpy Hawaii Avenue. At this point, Michael left us. He was riding a single speed bike and wisely opted to swap sanity for knee cartilage.
Next up was the Petworth neighborhood. This section was not particularly hilly but involved several turns (and a walk through a farmers market on Colorado Avenue). We headed north to the northern peak of the city. (DC is shaped like a diamond with a bit taken out of its lower left quadrant.) Here we stopped at the Takoma pit stop, home of Mike and Lisa, about whom I can’t say enough nice things. So I won’t.
(No seriously. They do this pit stop thing every year allowing totally sweaty total strangers to use their restrooms and trample their front yards. And they are Nats fans. Lisa maintains a bobblehead shrine. And they ride a tandem that has weird asynchronous pedaling. And Mike has a DC area GPS in his head and knows every street within a 50 mile radius. Also, he laughs at my jokes.)
Lisa and Mike – They’re the pits
After the pit stop we headed to Alaska. As we made the turn back toward the southwest we had our pictures taken by Patti Heck, who does this every year rain or shine. She posts the pix on her Flickr page so check them out. She even got a group picture of my posse. (And an shot of me too.)
We rode down into Rock Creek Park then back up the opposite side into Chevy Chase, home of posh single family homes. We continued working our way south to encounter a climb up Fessenden Street. Somehow I always forget about this monster. Dropped again.
Down and back up to ride Nebraska past American University. Then down a looong way to MacArthur Boulevard in the Palisades neighborhood. Now came the hard part. Up a short, steep stretch on Aspen. Then a reprieve for a mile followed by the longer, steep climb up Garfield Street. When the route started in Adams Morgan this beast came around the 55-mile mark. This year it came around 40 miles when legs were not completely spent. We managed it without much difficulty at all.
Unfortunately, about a mile after a descent from the top of Garfield came Cathedral Avenue, another tough climb my brain had blocked out. Fortunately, there was a water stop at the top of the hill. Unfortunately it was out of water. No worries; all of us had plenty of water to spare on our bikes.
The remainder of the ride took us back across Rock Creek Park to the start of the old route. From there we weaved our way down to downtown on flat streets. During this part someone on a bike yelled out to us. I had no idea who it was but one of my posse recognized the voice. It was Ursula who works for WABA. When we reached the final pit stop at City Center, she re-appeared. She was riding a shorter route with her parents. We chatted a bunch then the posse headed out for the finish. Down to Penn Quarter, over to Union Station, around the Capitol, through Southwest, past the Tidal Basin. We did a 3 1/2 mile loop to Hains Point in East Potomac Park. I had been feeling dead at that last pit stop but adrenaline kicked in and the wind-assisted ride back from the point felt like I was sailing.
The last bit of the ride took us past The Wharf and around Fort McNair. We then did a close pass of the northern end of the brand new Frederick Douglas Bridge, being careful to navigate a construction zone and beaucoup bridge traffic. After a half lap around Nationals Park we arrived at the finish. Knackered and chuffed, we joined the after party where we picked up our t-shirts and shared a victory beer and a slice of pizza.
The things this idiot will do for a t-shirt
As an added bit of pleasantness we were greeted by Jesse, a member of my 2018 50-States posse, and her friend Mike (the two of them housed me at the end of my 2019 tour in San Francisco) and Kitty, a friend who has been living in Brazil for the last few years.
As always, big thanks to all the volunteers (including my friends Monica and Josephine) and to the WABA folks, especially Anna McCormally WABA’s events coordinator, for making this ride a success once again.
As most readers of this blog know, my favorite bicycling event is the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s 50 States Ride. It involves riding 60 miles through the streets of DC on a route that includes the avenues named after the 50 States. I have done this ride a dozen times (2006, 2007, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020). This year’s ride is scheduled for Saturday September 11. Barring an onset of sanity, I intend to ride it.
T-shirts are awarded to finishers. I have worn mine all over the country and am often asked, “Wow. did you really ride in all 50 states?” Which begs the question “How many states have you ridden in?”
Emilia (R) and I posing with the 2017 t-shirt
Through no planning, between 1960 and 2019, I have ridden in 34 states: New York, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Virginia, Maryland, Hawaii, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Montana, Colorado, Kansas, North Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Delaware, New Jersey, Vermont, and Pennsylvania.
I have had in the back of my mind the notion to ride the remaining 16 in five tours: New Hampshire and Maine; Alaska; South Dakota, Wyoming, and Nebraska; Arizona, New Mexico, Texas. Oklahoma, and Arkansas; and Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Since they are not bunched together, this endeavor would take me several years.
I started my 2019 tour from Indiana to California with an ache in my left hip and left knee. The mountainous terrain and long days (made necessary by a lack of support services on the route) in Colorado, Utah, and Nevada beat my body up something fierce. The pandemic was a blessing in disguise, allowing me to get medical treatment (physical therapy, cortisone shots, and other therapies). Even now, however, I feel worn out. Perhaps this is father time’s way of telling me to change my approach.
The pandemic and scores of rides in mid-Atlantic weather these past 24 months, have conspired to make me proficient at another activity: napping. Today I rode 46 miles in suffocating heat and humidity to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens in DC. At the garden I spent about an hour walking around in the hot sun. When I got home, I had some lunch, took a shower, and laid down on the couch to meditate. I woke up two hours later.
It occurred to me that maybe riding in all 50 States is a younger man’s game. Maybe napping in all 50 States is more my speed these days.
So how many states have I napped in already? It’s a difficult question to answer because, well, I was asleep at the time. I am pretty sure I have napped in these states: New York, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Hawaii. Texas, California, Oregon, Wisconsin, Michigan (on the ferry on the lake), West Virginia, Indiana, Colorado, Florida, and Arizona. I have 36 states to go!
Maybe I could establish the Washington Area Nappers Association.
I could have a t-shirt made: I Snored the 50 States.
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 