Tag: WABA

A Ride with the Rookies: 50 States in a Rainy Day

The Fifty States Ride is an event put on each September by the Washington Area Bicyclists Association (WABA). The ride covers every nook and cranny of Washington DC so that participants can ride their bikes on every street named for a state. I’d done the ride six times: 2006, 2007, 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013. In 2006 and 2007, the ride was held in the sweltering heat of August. WABA moved the ride into September but the 2010 ride had all the heat and humidity of the August rides. Last year it poured buckets for the last hour. No matter what the weather, riders have to be prepared to climb a dozen (probably more, I lose track) hills. Every few blocks, riders come to a stop sign or red light, making for sore hands from so much braking.

When I lived in Boston, I drove a cab during the sunmers. The only part of the city my college friends knew, was the half mile around the subway stops they used. The same happens in every city. DC-area residents know the area near work and home, and a few other often frequented parts of town. The rest is a mystery. Riding the Fifty States ride gives a cyclist the chance to experience the entire city, warts and all.

Getting to know the city is a plus, but the real secret to the Fifty States Ride is the fact that all the starting and stopping all but forces riders to sociallize. I’ve met dozens of people because of this ride and they represent an incredible breadth of humanity. Students, writers, scientists, lawyers, educators, police officers, librarians. Black, white, asian, latino. Young and old. Incredibly fit and not so much.

A Plan Falls Apart

My friend Florencia and I have never done the entire ride together, In 2007 she abandoned me in the oppressive heat of Rock Creek Park. In 2011, she took off after we reached the lunch stop. So the plan was to ride the entire route together. Then life interceded and she had to cancel. Sad face. As it turns out, her friend Emilia had signed up but didn’t know anybody. So I agreed to ride with her.

Family Planning

I drove to my office in Rosslyn and rode the 3 1/2 miles to Adams Morgan in DC for the ride start. While waiting for Emilia, I started talking with Lorraine, a first-time rider who was having some anxiety about getting lost. I invited her aboard the Rootchopper Bike Bus. Next I spotted Emilia. As I introduced Lorraine, she said she was my “daughter” so I introduced Emilia as my wife. Instead of adopting a son, we added Jeremy Cannon, the son of Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon. Bob was marshalling the shorter 13 Colonies ride. I did the Great Pumpkin Ride with Father and Son Cannon last October. Then we added rookies Kristen and Elizabeth with whom I did the Backroads ride last September. Up stepped John Roche, Mr. Hoppy 100. Dave Salovesh, man with the Green Bay Packers bike, joined in. (It had belt drive. You gotta have belt drive in your group!)  We tried to draft Rachel (Don’t Call Me Bob) Cannon, but she had commited to riding with Ursula Sandstorm who was a volunteer ride marshall and her friend Jordan. So we went into the draft and picked a ringer: Friday Coffee Clubber, Michael Brunetto a man who knows DC like the back of his bicycling gloves. From my pix, I can see we were joined by a tenth rider, a woman in green, whose name I neglected to get.

Leading Is Overrated

Kristen decided that we should leave before the formal ride start.  This turned out to be a great idea because it meant that we avoided the usual congested roads for the first 10 miles. Since I was the grizzled veteran I was dubbed the point man for our group. I nearly missed the first turn, so Michael grabbed the reins and off we went spiralling through DC neighborhoods and downtown.

Making Progress

Despite gray skies, there were smiles all around as we picked off states in quick succession without much effort. We skirted a 5K race near the Mall, and zipped over Capitol Hill and into Southwest DC. The route took us to East Potomac Park where the friskier riders among us sped away. We regrouped at a public restroom and headed for Maine, crossing the path of the riders who had started after us.

Smiles - Before the Hills
Smiles – Before the Hills

We rode past Nationals Park where Emilia proudly told me that three of her Venezuelan countryman (Ramos, Cabrera, and Lobeton) were on the ballclub. Go Nats! Go wife!

I led the posse through the confusion of near Southeast, through an alley, and over the Souza Bridge. We hit the pit stop in Anacostia Park, chatted with some friends and headed out for the first hills of the ride. We climbed Martin Luther King, Junior Avenue. It was a bit of a shock as the climbers among us got their ya yas out. All I could think of was: this ride is going to suck if I don’t get my legs in order. The next climb came a mile later on Stanton Road. By this point my legs were loose and I made a decent showing of things. Our climbing contingent – Elizabeth (QOM), Justin, Michael, and Jeremy- put us to shame but they kindly waited at the top for the rest of us.

On the way to Texas a woman riding ahead of us almost took a wrong turn. It was the first of many wrong turns we witnessed and thwarted throughout the day. We zoomed down Massachusetts Avenue (a real thrill on the 20 inch wheels of Little Nellie, my Bike Friday) and headed back to Anacostia Park.

My peeps were pretty happy to arrive at the Eastern Market rest stop for lunch. Our rookies were smiling so we knew that the pace was reasonable. We took our time and steeled ourselves for the second half.

Staying Off Track

The route took is through the eastern side of Capitol Hill which combined flat roads with numerous turns. As we headed northward, we encountered a closed road. I took us down H Street which has trolley tracks right where we would be riding. At the next cross street, I dismounted and walked across the tracks, fearful that our entire posse might catch a rail and fall. (This is not a good road design, folks!)

The climbers took off up the steep hill on Mt. Olivet Road. They waited for the rest of us to pull up the rear. We crossed over the railroad and US 50 in pursuit of scary North Dakota Avenue. The gray skies had given way to a light rain. I was grateful that the traffic was light and we made it unscathed to Taylor Street. Soon we were riding busy Michigan Avenue and lucked out again with light traffic.

After riding past Catholic University we were treated to Hawaii Avenue, another big climb. We plodded on undaunted. The rookies were holding it together. The rabbits were humoring by waiting at the top of each climb.

Hail Rootchopper!

Zig, zag, pedal, pedal. We made good work of long stretches in Northwest, as the rain started coming down hard. Jackets came on. Lorraine and a bunch of other riders from other posses headed back home. The rest of the crew plowed ahead, thankful to reach the Tacoma rest stop at the home of Mike and Lisa. For some reason, Mike gets a kick out of my Twitter name, Rootchopper. Last year he stood on his porch shouting ROOTCHOPPER as I rolled in. This year, he had a banner up that said “Hail Rootchopper!” It’s nice to be loved.

Hail, Rootchopper!
Hail, Rootchopper!

As I walked around at the rest stop, a funny thing occured to me: this is the best I have felt after 50 miles of biking ever. I felt like I could have ridden for hours and hours more. This soon would fade into memory.

The Rookies Start to Work

After the rest we climbed to Alaska and flew down into Rock Creek Park. On Beach Drive we saw a woman rider on the ground with several riders looking on. They had called an ambulance so we left her in their hands.

On the west side of the park we rode into Chevy Chase, the high rent district. Yes, there were more hills. The Rookies were starting to ask, “Are we there yet?” Shut up and climb.

The route differs from year to year. One of this year’s new wrinkles was 36th Street. It is a pretty little windy street with dense tree cover. And bumps. And a steep hill. Ugh. My wife wanted a divorce. When she reached the top of the hill she had a big smile on her face, but then she said “My legs were gone.” Fortunately, the final rest stop had coffee which seemed to revive her. For the climb up Wisconsin Avenue. Ugh.

Is Arizona a State?

After riding past American University, we rode downhill, picking up newly paved Arizona Avenue, and giving up all our climbing work from 36th and Wisconsin. After a flat stretch on MacArthur Boulevard, it was payback time. With five miles to go we rode up Ashby, up 49th Street, then up the sadistically steep Garfield Street. My wife had given up pn divorce; instead she wanted to kill me in my sleep.

After recoveinrg, we forged ahead. This neck of the woods is called Cathedral Heights. To get there you have to go….up. Emilia was one hurting unit but still she climbed. What a warrior. Finally, we crested the heights and made the gradual ride back down to the start. Of course, it wouldn’t be loads of fun without riding on busy Connecticut Avenue. A ride marshall (Rod Smith, perhaps) had taken the left lane in preparation for the left hand turn onto Calvert Street. We followed his lead.

Happy Campers

We arrived at the after party with big smiles on our faces. We were triumphant. Photo ops with our hard-earned ride shirts were taken. Beer was imbibed. Other riders arrived. Rachel and Jordan and Ursula appeared with had big smiles. Fists were pumped. Riders were hugged. Faces wore satified smiles.

Acknowledgements

Very big thanks to the folks at WABA, especially Michelle Cleveland, who works for months putting this ride together. Thanks to the volunteers, especially Mike and Lisa, who literally opened their home to us.

Thanks to Flor for getting me to ride this again. I missed you.

Thanks to the posse. To Lorraine, Dave, John, Justin, Kristen, Elizabeth, and Jeremy. Thanks to Michael who refused to let me get us lost! And special thanks to my new friend Emilia, mi esposa por un dia. Muchas gracias, senorita.

Emilia Shows Off Her Trophy
Emilia Shows Off Her Trophy

Sooooop!

The first event ride on my calendar every year is the Vasa ride, a joint production of the Washington Area Bicyclists Association (WABA) and the Swedish Embassy. It is held as a nod to a huge annual cross country skiing event in Sweden. Them Swedes are crazy. At the end of the ride, we cyclists get to go inside the embassy and drink warm blueberry soup. As I said, them Swedes are crazy.

So I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30 still groggy from the Nyquil I took last night to combat my lingering cold. I did some yoga to start the day. Actually, that’s not quite true. I do this thing that looks like a grown man having convulsions. You see, yoga is no match for the steel in my hamstrings and quadriceps. I am about as flexible as an I-beam.

I changed into my biking clothes and headed out the door. I drove to my office building in Rosslyn across the river from the start of the ride at the embassy on the Georgetown waterfront. The ride on The Mule across Key Bridge was invigorating owing to the fact that I didn’t wear enough warm biking clothes. The thermometer on my bike said it was 50 degrees. My body disagreed.

I rode past Baked and Wired, a coffee shop in Georgetown. It was not yet open. I cried. So, I just went to the starting point of the ride to hang out.

Soon Kate C. (@girlonabikedc) arrived on her awesome bike Kermit. Kate volunteered to be a ride marshal for the 15-mile ride. We chatted for until she was called to listen to the ride marshall training lecture.

I then began a conversation with Dave P., a bike rider from Arlington who organizes an annual brunch for bike trail users at an Indian restaurant in Shirlington. After wearing his ear out, I welcome Alex Baca (@alexbaca), the WABA communications goddess, online grad student, and binge TV watcher who has been known to ride me into the ground on occasion.

Then the waves of the Friday Coffee Club crowd began arriving. Dave S. (@darsal), Jacques (jarsenault) , with his Dad and toddler son Hugo, John R. (@dirteng) and Kate S. (@katesyl) (proving that Kate is the number one name for women cyclists), Kevin (@BicycleBug), Kirstin (@ultrarunnergirl) and Tom and their friend Betsy, and Lisa. Ed (@dailyrandonneur), riding a single bike, rolled in sans Mary (@coffeeneur), she who pushes Ed over the hills on their tandem. Peter (@jopamora), Ricky (@bikeeveryday) appeared, too. And Ted (@MrTinDC) and Jean (@jerdlngr). I was hoping to see Rachel (@rachelcannon) “Don’t Call Me, Bob” Cannon, who came to marshal the 15 mile ride, but, alas, she had the good sense to stay in bed an extra hour. I did bump into Lesly, who fell in with during the 2012 and 2013 50 States Ride. Lesly (@DCxFitChic) has the ability to ride fast and talk a blue streak simultaneously. It’s as if she can’t breathe without taking. Good thing she’s funny and upbeat.

Ed and Ricky, being more better than the rest of us, took off on the 59-mile route. The rest of us left a half-hour later on the 31 mile jaunt.

It was a cold start. I was literally shivering. My front wheel was wiggling left and right with each shake of my arms. Lisa and I rode side by side for the first 7 or 8 miles. I think the last time we rode together was in September so it was good to get caught up.

On the Capital Crescent Trail, I man rode by me and said, “Rootchopper! Hi! Haven’t seen you in a while.” He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. (Lisa later told me that it was Joe (@josephlrc), an infrequent but cheerful Friday Coffee Clubber. Once he took off his helmet and whatever he was wearing on his head, I recognized him immediately.)

We were also passed by a man on a Penny Farthing, a big wheel bike from the 19th Century. He was hauling buns. (We’d later see him pushing the bike up a hill.)

Crossing over the C&O Canal we passed Tony, yet another Friday Coffee Clubber. “Hi, Tony!”

Along MacArthur Boulevard I started feeling my oats. This may have had something to do with my feet and fingers thawing out.  I climbed over the hill at the reservoir without difficulty. As I crested the hill, a paceline of lycra clad bicyclists went past. I decided to hitch a ride. The Mule can motor when motivated and off we went. Weeeee.

Now I was warmed up. I got into a rhythm and rode fast-ish (when you ride The Mule speed is relative). At the western end of MacArthur was the half mile long hill to Falls Road. Kate S. and John buried my sorry ass but I remained calm and rejoined them near the top.

We all came together again at the rest stop at the turnaround point in Potomac Village. I bought some coffee and it made my central nervous system happy. Lisa bought a scone and shared a bit with me. Twas yummy.

I spotted Nelle (@NellePierson) from WABA and made note of her amazing tights with tigers on them. Of course, I didn’t think to take a picture of them so you’ll have to take my word on this.

Kirstin, who is following a Paleo diet, couldn’t find any animals to kill so she snarfed a muffin. And Tom ate quiche proving, I suppose, that real men do eat quiche.

We left the rest stop in waves. I got absorbed by a cluster of people I didn’t know, but the caffeine had me focused on spinning my ass off. And so I did.

Somewhere in the posh Avenel development, I pulled over to take a picture of my bike odometer. 35,000 miles. Not too shabby. (Lest you get all impressed, I’ve had this bike since 1993. Any other sane person would have bought a new bike 15 years ago. I may be slow but I’m frugal.)

Back on the bike, I found Dave P. and rode with him along Persimmon Tree Road past Congressional Country Club, occasional home of the U. S. Open. Soon we were back on MacArthur and retracing our route home. Once again I was riding solo and making pretty good time.

I climbed up over the reservoir hill and bombed down the backside.

One thing I should point out is that we all spent the entire ride dodging potholes. There were hundreds of them. A couple looked like impact craters. It’s been that kind of winter.

I rolled into the embassy feeling fresh and ready to go for more, but warm blueberry soup awaited me. It tasted wonderful. Spring is officially here!!!!

I started chatting with some of the folks in our group and a young woman said, “Hi, Rootchopper.” And, for the second time today I thought, “Who are you and how do you know me?” It was Ursula (@sobacase). She said we had ridden with me during part of the Cider ride in December. It was cold that day. My brain must have stopped working. Once we started talking I kind of remembered her. She had on tights that were about as loud as Nelle’s. This time I took a picture.

After hanging out in the embassy for a while we went outside to wait for Ed to arrive from the 59 mile ride. A man walked up to me and said, “Hi, Rootchopper.” And my brain silently said “Who’s this? AGAIN!” I was so flustered by his third encounter of the day that I forgot his name almost immediately. (I think he said he was Stan, but I won’t know for sure until the next time he picks me out of crowd.)  I am terrible with names but three in one morning?

Ed arrived and we soon followed Dave S,’s lead to the Luna Grill near Dupont Circle where we dined like kings on a budget. The food was good and the conversation was better. Mary came back from her beauty rest and joined us. She gave our Errandonnee badges to Kirstin, Lisa, and me. She sewed them herself while stoking the tandem on a brevet a couple of weeks ago. I swear it’s true.

I indulged myself with a root beer float, a tuna melt, and more coffee. Life is good.

After a couple of hours of gabbing we went our separate ways. Some went east, Some went north. I followed Ursula west until she tuned off for the wilds of Foggy Bottom. I cruised through Georgetown which was absolutely packed with cars and pedestrians. The ride across the river took much longer. The sidewalk was filled with people on a nearly 70 degree, sunny afternoon.

My thanks to the folks at WABA (especially Michelle Cleveland, WABA’s events coordinator) and the Swedish embassy, as well as all the people who volunteered to help sign us up and marshal us along the course.

Pix of the ride are over on my Flickr page.

Lisa’s account of the day is here.

Shutout

It rained. It sleeted. It snowed. True to its policy, the National Park Service refused to sand, salt or plow the Mount Vernon Trail, leaving all of its bridges an icy mess for the week.

Lovely.

I fell on icy roads last winter and noticed that it was painful, so I decided to forgo orthopedic chaos this week and either drove to work or worked from home. I haven’t looked at my records but this may be my first weeklong shutout since Snowmaggedon.

The week wasn’t a complete loss. Since I had my car at work, I drove up to the fabulous WABA World Headquarters to pick up my prize for winning their membership drive. During the drive, I chose to sign people up for WABA memberships on the Mount Vernon Trail at the 14th Street bridge. It was my good fortune to pick the spot that several hundred bike commuters passed that evening.

My prize was a Chrome bike messenger bag filled with bicycling goodies: socks, a U-lock, a water bottle and cage, a refrigerator magnet, EPO, and a jersey.  (Just kidding about the EPO.) II was really kind of excited about the jersey. I don’t own a single bicycle jersey. The one I won is a large. I suspected that it was probably a little small for me. So I tried it on. Apparently, they acquired this jersey from.the new City Bikes store in Lilliput.  I looked like Will Ferrell in the cowbell sketch. I’m sure I can find some svelte person to give it to.

On Thursday night I drove to the WABA holiday party at the Bier Baron, which is located in the west end of DC, between Dupont Circle and Georgetown. Car traffic was gridlocked so after 15 frustrating minutes I kind of gave up on the party and turned toward Georgetown. Within a block I found free on-street parking. It was sign from God that I should not give up. I parked my car and walked a mile to the venue in the cold.

Inside there were a flabbergasting number of WABA people, so many that it was impossible to get a drink. I followed Alex and Chris to the basement bar. We hung out with other thirsty refugees including Dave, Brian, Chris B, and Lolly. The beer was pretty good except for a habanero laced pint that fearless Lolly ordered. It was muy picante. I sipped it and my mouth burned for 20 minutes. I can’t comprehend how anyone could ingest more than an ounce or two of the stuff.

After a while Chris B and I went back upstairs to mingle. I said hello to Megan and Colin along the way. We hung out with Katie (I’m pretty sure there’s a Kate Bicycle Cult in this town)  and her sister Liz. The hour was getting late-ish so I bid my farewells and braved the frigid temps to walk back to my car. Beer is good antifreeze. It felt great to walk with my jacket open. Take that winter!

Sixty Miles for Some Cider

Today was the inaugural Cider Ride put on by the Washington Area Bicyclists Association (WABA). In the tradition of the Vasa ride held in early March, this ride was all about riding in the cold in order to partake of a warm, sweet beverage. Despite the fact that December in DC is not exactly or even remotely warm, the event sold out. There were three rides named after apples. I rode on the Honeycrisp ride which was 60 miles long. Another ride was 47 miles. The third ride was 15 miles. (They didn’t get any cider on the 15-miler. They were first in line for quiche though.)

The ride departed from Canal Park in Near Southeast DC. This park which also has a tavern, site of the after-party and an outdoor ice rink, is on M Street near Nationals Park and the Navy Yard.  We headed out for a farm somewhere near Bowie MD to the east northeast of the start at 8:30. There was a fair contingent of people from Friday Coffee Club including new-ish Dad Justin, Ryan, and Ed and Mary on their scary big tandem (which does not yet appear to have a name. Dave, a veteran of this year’s version of the Hoppy 100, was working the registration desk. Nelle from WABA was also there working. (One of the ironic things about working for WABA is that you rarely get to do the rides!)

Off we went to the east, over the new 11 Street bridge into Anacostia where we took the first left and started climbing away from the Anacostia River. The Coffeeneurs were in a pack until gravity grabbed Little Nellie and me. Bye, everybody. I was fell in with a back of young women who were kind enough to suppress their snickers at the sight of a big guy on a clown bike. After about a mile we were on roads that I’ve never ridden on before. We were soon in Prince Georges County MD. Inside the beltway PG County is not exactly Shangrila, but it does have paved roads which were useful for this sort of ride.

We rode by the federal complex in Suitland MD. I pity the weather service and Census workers that work in that place. It looks like a maximum security prison.

On we rode, turning this way and that. I became separated from the ladies and fell in with a couple of ride marshals (volunteers who help the riders fix flats, find their way, etc.). My ride marshals soon missed a turn. I think we all thought someone else was paying attention to the directions. We got sorted out and back on course. The course itself had lots of rolling hills which kept us honest. Not having a map with me, I was utterly lost.

We crossed over the beltway and suddenly some of the roads started to look familiar. I think I rode on these on the way to Annapolis about ten years ago. We popped into subdivisions then back out onto mostly two-lane roads. Then we crossed the busy Crane Highway (US 301) and, as if by a snap of the fingers, we were are two-lane country roads. We passed fallow farmers’ fields, creeks, woods, and the occasional misplaced McMansion  and soon found ourselves at the rest stop at the halfway point. Here I enjoyed some warm cider, some junky snacks (tasted great), and a brief conversation with Megan from WABA. I think the last time I saw her at an event like this was at the halfway rest stop at the Vasa ride in March. Megan is from Florida so cold is not her thing but she had four layers on today. As for me, the only part of my body that was cold was my toes. Before leaving, I slipped some toe warmers into my shoes. Ahhh.

We took a mostly different route back. It seemed to have few turns so the navigation was a lot easier. One road was a rutted mess. My back, already beaten up by the morning’s ride not to mention 150 miles of bike commuting this week was really unhappy. I survived. Somehow I was now in a group with three course marshals. How nice of WABA to provide such personal service. After a while a couple of the marshals peeled off to assist other rides and Chris one of the marshals that had been with me for the last 40 miles and I soldiered on. We made pretty respectable time too. Chris knows how to ride in traffic so we really didn’t have to worry about each other.

Somewhere around 45 miles we saw a lone rider about 1/4 mile ahead of us. We caught up to Katie, an American University student, and rode the rest of the way in. The return route included a ride-by of FedEx field (what a monstrosity!) and an unexpected climb up Southern Avenue on DC’s border. When we got to the top, we were treated with a long downhill back toward the Anacostia on Massachusetts Avenue. This downhill is part of the 50 States Ride so I knew it was coming but Katie and Chris didn’t. I’m sure they had a gas flying down the hill.

We made our way back over the 11th Street bridge and went to the after party at the Park Tavern in Canal Park. Pizza and hot spiked cider. Perfecto.

For a brand new ride, I thought this one went pretty well. It’s always fun to explore new territory on a bike, even if it is right next store. The downsides to the ride were few. It was cold and a bit windy but not nearly as cold as the Vasa ride or most of my winter commutes. A few drivers came very close to Chris and me. I think these close passes were intentional. PG County probably doesn’t see this many cyclists in one day very often. A couple of the roads could have used some re-paving some time ago, like maybe, 1974. These nasty parts were only about a mile in total length.

My thanks to Chris for riding most of the ride with me. And with Katie who lifted our spirits for the last ten miles. And special thanks to all the WABA people and volunteers who helped out.

I only took a few pix. They’re on my Flickr page. And some from others are on the WABA Flickr page, too.

 

The Intoverted Volunteer

The Washington Area Bicycling Association (WABA) is a membership funded bicycle advocacy organization. They’ve been hard at work for over 40 years helping the DC area become a better place to ride a bike. This week they are holding a membership drive so I volunteered to help out at a sign up location on the Mount Vernon Trail near the 14th Street Bridge.

I arrived early and waited for the WABA staff person to show up with the sign up materials. It was warm and the sun was still shining. At around 5 o’clock I saw something that I have not noticed before. There was a torrent of bicycles streanming down the ramp from the bridge. This was especially surprising to me since I hadn’t seen many bike commuters in the morning. They were coming fast and all I could think of was how do you get them to stop?

After a few minutes, Lolly showed up. She is WABA’s membership coordinator. She had all the paperwork, clipboards, pens, and a gizmo on her smartphone for taking payments. And she had sidewalk chalk. After getting our bikes secured, she went up the ramp to write WABA and draw arrows on the trail. She is brave. And crazy. Meanwhile I decided that this membership gig called for some serious extroversion. Being a total introvert, I decided to put on an accent and bark like a hot dog vendor at a ballpark (Get your WABA memberships heah!) Cyclists just kept zooming past probably wondering what that lunatic on the side of the trail was yelling about. Many of them had ear buds in. I HATE earbuds. I thought, “This is going to be a long evening.”

Lolly
I bike therefore I am Lolly

Then, as if by a miracle, a rider stopped. Lolly did her smartphone thing and I ran off with the chalk to write on the trail to the north and south. More ballpark vending ensued. This is TOTALLY not like me. I was really uncomfortable, but no guts, no glory. Another person stopped and another. One was a guy who had let his WABA membership lapse. He originally joined in 1973! He re-upped. Go team!

Mr. WABA 1973
Mr. WABA 1973

Dana, a jovial and somewhat insane bike commuter and frequent attendee at cycling get-togethers like Friday Coffee Club and the Third Thursday happy hour, stopped and pitched in. His voice and enthusiasm project better than mine and he worked the trail like a man possessed. More and more people stopped to sign up. I kept barking out my pleas for members. “Sign up for WABA or I’ll kill my cat!” (Note: I don’t own a cat.) Dana handed out some chewing gum to us which helped immensely as I was starting to lose my voice.

Our numbers grew again when Larry showed up. He had walked over for the Columbia Island parking area on the opposite side of the George Washington Memorial Parkway. Unlike the rest of us, he looked like a grown up in normal office clothing. He started right in soliciting memberships. Somehow he managed to speak entire sentences to passing cyclists. Meanwhile, I was falling to my knees shamelessly begging for people to sign up. An old school DC lawyer once was overheard telling his protégé. “Never be afraid to make a fool of yourself for your client.” I took his advice to heart.

After a while Dana rode off. Thanks, for helping. We really couldn’t have done it with out you, sir. WABA owes you a tall latte and a fritter.

Occasionally, people would stop by to chat. An “old” (hey, he looked about my age but he self identified as old) man came by with a big yellow bucket sitting on the top tube of his bike. He had a fishing rod, broken into two parts like a pool cue, strapped to the top tube a well. The bottom of the inside of the bucket was covered with bait fish. He didn’t sign up but he talked a blue streak about fishing and his 1955 gas guzzling Chevy. I tried to be polite but the cyclists were still passing by and the sun was setting. What made it doubly stressful is that (a) I don’t know diddly about fishing and (b) I am an introvert (see above). After about five minutes, he rode off to land the big one.

In the process of the event, Darren Buck stopped by. We hadn’t met in the flesh before, but knew each other from various Internet dicussions. He will be working the same site on Thursday night with WABA’s Alex. Also Lane, one of the DC randos and a Friday Coffee Club regular, blew on by with a wave. And Bike House Chris, who was in the 2013 Hoppy 100 posse and an excellent two-bikes at once rider, came by to shoot the breeze.

Larry and Lolly at the End of the Day
Larry and Lolly at the End of the Day

We called it a night as the sun set. Lolly was a happy camper with a great big pile o’ memberships. Larry walked off into the sunset. Big Nellie and I rode off into the dark with my introversion restored.

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.