Do you remember that feeling you used to get when you were a child and you knew you were going to be in trouble? Not just 'trouble' but life ending, seriously deep, capital T-trouble. At the time you were committing whichever atrocity it might have been you knew that if you got caught then that would be the end of you. The fundamentally ominous foreboding experienced at the words, “Wait until your father gets home,” or “Go to your room until I talk to your mother.” Only prisoners on death row dining on their last meals can relate to the sense of knowing terror awaiting the child caught with their hand in the cookie jar; awaiting the inevitable spanking, chewing out or interminable grounding to come.
Riding in today amidst the warmth of the rising sun, a cool 30 morning on this eve of Thanksgiving, I gave thanks. I gave the thanks of a cyclist, the thanks of a child, who knows he is about to be punished. I’m so thankful for all that I’ve been given…and while I’m at it…I’m really sorry too for a whole bunch of stuff and whatever…amen. On the north western horizon of the metro area stands a wall of seriously heavy dark clouds. The blizzard, arriving as promised to the northern and central front range. By nightfall our temperature may be 6 degrees. The winds might be blowing at 30mph. It also might be snowing…or raining frogs…or both, who knows? All I know is that I’ll be on a bike headed westbound at about 4:30pm…preparing to be spanked.
Showing posts with label commuting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commuting. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Farewell Sunshine
This afternoon I greeted the final rays of daylight savings light with the same knowing of one who knows their last days are nigh. To add insult to injury, the fleeting sunshine carried with it a warmth and comfort more akin to a May evening than an early November one. I concurred with Kate’s sentiment entirely, I could kept on riding as well. Instead, as I climbed the driveway after a long, meandering, detour filled, ride home tonight I turned and looked towards the growing shadows all around me and heading inside turned my back on one more summer. This is a bittersweet time of year. It marks the end of what is generally a hectic season of activity (riding or otherwise) and ushers in the season of long nights inside reflecting and relaxing. On the other hand it marks the onset of a 4 month stint of cold, dark rides home, the roadway illuminated solely by the passing lights of cars and the small lumen output of my CatEye headlight. There’s something isolating and saddening about riding home on a chilly 32 degree night in the dark. The prospect is not something to anticipate with enthusiasm or relish. I enjoy being seen clearly while riding. I enjoy seeing clearly while riding. I don’t exactly enjoy feeling my way dumbly in the dark. But there’s no use hoping against the inevitable; its time to ‘fall back’. So, popping the top off my festive, snowy bike bottle cap on my New Belgium Two Below, I toast the fading light of summer; all hope, warmth and memory saved within their diminishing glow. Here’s to another summer put to rest, and a fine one at that.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
I'm a Person for Bikes...Are You?
So I found my way to the People for Bikes website, an organization looking to build support for bike related needs at the national political level by collecting e-signatures for 1 million bicycle supporting individuals. Their major aim is to create demonstrative clout for lobbying local, state and federal legislators for enhanced funding and support for cycling related transportation projects. To accomplish this goal, essentially all they ask is that you sign their online pledge for support. They don't give many more specifics than that, but at face value it definitely is a worthwhile effort. Below is some pasted info from their website as well as a link. If you're feeling inclined to be 1 in a million, then complete their online pledge.
"Every day, millions of Americans like us ride for their health, for the environment, for their communities, and for the pure joy of bicycling. But until now, only a tiny fraction of riders have stood up to help improve bicycling in America.
Peopleforbikes.org is going to change all that. They're building a national movement with the clout and influence to get things done. That means promoting bike riding on an individual level, but also sending a unified message to our elected leaders, the media, and the public that bicycling should have their full support."
Check out their great new website to take a pledge for biking and learn how you can help:
http://www.peopleforbikes.org
"Every day, millions of Americans like us ride for their health, for the environment, for their communities, and for the pure joy of bicycling. But until now, only a tiny fraction of riders have stood up to help improve bicycling in America.
Peopleforbikes.org is going to change all that. They're building a national movement with the clout and influence to get things done. That means promoting bike riding on an individual level, but also sending a unified message to our elected leaders, the media, and the public that bicycling should have their full support."
Check out their great new website to take a pledge for biking and learn how you can help:
http://www.peopleforbikes.org
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A Case of the Dundies
"Is that a wadded up pair of boxers in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" Oh no baby its boxers, and you know why??? --cause its Double-Undies Day (Dundies...that's my new word. You heard it here first, add it to your spell check its going to be big...I've been big on firsts lately...maybe its my lack of racing turning me competitive in other, far more mundane, exploits...)
Dundies occurs when its so miserably wet and soggy outside that you get soaked all the way to the core by the time you get to work such that you either end up going ‘sans-culottes’ or you have to cart around another pair of boxers, briefs, panties (or worse) with you. I can’t recall the last time it rained on a commute IN to work. The summer occasionally boasts rainy rides home, generally preferable to the 90+ heat, but the Dundy day is a rarely experienced joy most common to spring and fall. Today it rained, heavy, cold, fat drops my entire ride in to work. Despite my rain jacket and pants, by the time I got to the office I was more or less soaked to the core; the tops of the legs really get the brunt of the rain hence the penetrating sodden condition of one’s boxers. My shoes likely won’t dry out for another day. My socks were still wet and cold when I put them back on for the ride home. My gloves…ditto.
And yet don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining. A Dundy ride is almost a badge of honor. Ben at work also road in today, so the camaraderie in the bike room this evening was extra heightened; the commiseration in the morning’s dreariness and discussion of best lube for post-rain rejuvenation being the hot topics of conversation. Plus a truly dreary, gray, rain-fest of a morning ride only portends more ominous and inhospitable conditions to come: I love it. Not that I’m a huge fan of winter commuting (especially come April when I’m fed up with it), but right now its novel, new, a sign of the changing of seasons; time to really get down to business. Soon it won’t just be commuting by bike, on some days it almost becomes an exercise in survival or at least coping with wet drawers. So get out the good lube, the Swiss Army knife, those extra boxers and other survival gear; winter’s on its way, time to get ready!
Dundies occurs when its so miserably wet and soggy outside that you get soaked all the way to the core by the time you get to work such that you either end up going ‘sans-culottes’ or you have to cart around another pair of boxers, briefs, panties (or worse) with you. I can’t recall the last time it rained on a commute IN to work. The summer occasionally boasts rainy rides home, generally preferable to the 90+ heat, but the Dundy day is a rarely experienced joy most common to spring and fall. Today it rained, heavy, cold, fat drops my entire ride in to work. Despite my rain jacket and pants, by the time I got to the office I was more or less soaked to the core; the tops of the legs really get the brunt of the rain hence the penetrating sodden condition of one’s boxers. My shoes likely won’t dry out for another day. My socks were still wet and cold when I put them back on for the ride home. My gloves…ditto.
And yet don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining. A Dundy ride is almost a badge of honor. Ben at work also road in today, so the camaraderie in the bike room this evening was extra heightened; the commiseration in the morning’s dreariness and discussion of best lube for post-rain rejuvenation being the hot topics of conversation. Plus a truly dreary, gray, rain-fest of a morning ride only portends more ominous and inhospitable conditions to come: I love it. Not that I’m a huge fan of winter commuting (especially come April when I’m fed up with it), but right now its novel, new, a sign of the changing of seasons; time to really get down to business. Soon it won’t just be commuting by bike, on some days it almost becomes an exercise in survival or at least coping with wet drawers. So get out the good lube, the Swiss Army knife, those extra boxers and other survival gear; winter’s on its way, time to get ready!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
News Flash... and Random Aside
Below is a link to what may very well be the best story about cycling of all stories about cycling ever written. Now some of you skeptics might be saying to yourselves, "Surely not. Think of Lance's comeback from cancer tour victories. Lemond's gloriously narrow TT win over Fignon. Any of the cannibal or badger's celebrated exploits in the heyday of cycling nicknames. Or better yet, more stories of Spanish riders testing positive for eating bad food and Saran Wrap." Well to those who would doubt I only suggest you follow the link and decide for yourselves. Perhaps I'm wrong...but I doubt it.
Greatest Bike Story Every Told
On an entirely unrelated note...to the greatest bike story ever told that is...I would assert that while Volvo may indeed make the safest vehicles on the planet, these feats of Swedish engineering perfection attract some of the unsafest of drivers. That's an opinion of course, I'm still doing my homework on the figures but I'd say I'm definitely on to something. If you need empirical evidence for your own then by all means get on a bike and ride around the Denver Highlands around rush hour...in the bike lane...preferably with children about (Those Volvo's are magnets for children, I saw a commercial on it once. And I almost saw some serious magnetic power this afternoon but not quite in the manner the makers of Volvo may have intended.) Apparently the 'safeness' feature of this guy's Volvo must have been an option he decided he didn't need; in favor of a better stereo, wood paneling, a talking map or something important like that. Maybe Volvo needs a disclaimer at the end of their ad with the taxes titles and fees gibberish. Something like, "Safety implied. Not standard for morons."
Greatest Bike Story Every Told
On an entirely unrelated note...to the greatest bike story ever told that is...I would assert that while Volvo may indeed make the safest vehicles on the planet, these feats of Swedish engineering perfection attract some of the unsafest of drivers. That's an opinion of course, I'm still doing my homework on the figures but I'd say I'm definitely on to something. If you need empirical evidence for your own then by all means get on a bike and ride around the Denver Highlands around rush hour...in the bike lane...preferably with children about (Those Volvo's are magnets for children, I saw a commercial on it once. And I almost saw some serious magnetic power this afternoon but not quite in the manner the makers of Volvo may have intended.) Apparently the 'safeness' feature of this guy's Volvo must have been an option he decided he didn't need; in favor of a better stereo, wood paneling, a talking map or something important like that. Maybe Volvo needs a disclaimer at the end of their ad with the taxes titles and fees gibberish. Something like, "Safety implied. Not standard for morons."
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Bike Tuesday
A double stuffed Oreo of bike fun, the last Tuesday of the month is bus Tuesday and its Golden Cruise Tuesday as well…wholesome fun for the entire family. Bus Tuesday occurs the 4th Tuesday of the month where I get to hop on the bus with my bike and ride out to Golden for a recurring committee meeting. A couple months ago I was selected to serve on a committee for work. On some levels getting the nod to serve on a committee can be compared to getting into a car accident: it is bound to happen to just about everyone at some point and when it does you only pray that you’re able to stand up and walk away from it. So while I was ‘voluntold’ to be on this committee, the meetings have been effectively organized and astoundingly on-topic to the point of being productive (shocker for a committee I know), and the real plus has been the once monthly opportunity to flee my gray walled hole during the middle of the day.
Riding to work and traveling to a committee meeting can be a challenge by bike. In the past I’ve managed to only get the call to serve on committees within a mile or two from my office: easy bike to meeting range. A couple years ago I had the pleasure of serving on a group that convened out in Aurora. Fortunately they met early in the morning so I was able to get up and bike down to the main bus depot and hop the express out to the location. Getting back to work was an easy express ride to Denver. Faced with the proposition of an afternoon meeting in Golden I found myself again busing it once a month with my bike. While the commute via bike and bus takes about 15 min longer than driving, I find the time on the bus to generally be more productive work-wise than sitting in a car. I can get caught up on email, read docs or reports and actually prep for the upcoming meeting (which otherwise wouldn’t happen if I went straight from office-to drive-to meeting…there’s just no time for luxuries like effective preparation.)
Today I was able to check some email and get caught up from some lingering items outstanding from last week’s time out of the office, and I got to enjoy the company of some of my fellow bus travelers. Most of the afternoon’s conversation centered around a fellow with macular degeneration who talked at length about how he rides his bike downtown to Golden frequently much to the dismay of his wife who gives him a fair bit of grief about it. When pressed about his route he indicated that the roads are in fact smoother and more direct than the path, which got a chuckle out of everyone around him now listening to the conversation. “I usually take the road down, and then the path back he said,” which made perfect sense to me I suppose; as he had in fact already acknowledged his inability to effectively see either. He also told us a funny story about how he got a call indicating that he was qualified to win a scooter: he just had to answer a few questions. His response to the caller was “Well hopefully the first question isn’t: can you see to drive the thing!” This again got a pretty good laugh from the other riders. He got off at the same stop as I did and cane in hand made his way down the sidewalk. It goes to show how far one can get on sheer willpower and strength of character (if not a bit of stubbornness as well), even despite seemingly limiting obstacles. People all the time say, “Oh I’d probably be able to ride my bike but this and that and such and such.” Well this man could barely see and apparently had a nagging wife: that didn’t stop him!
Home at last from all my biking and busing in a professional sense, its time to load up the bikes for the monthly Golden Cruiser Ride. Tonight marks the second to last installment of this wonderful summer institution. The theme tonight apparently is PJ Party…which is not a theme I can really get behind. I don’t really P or J and I assure you that no one wants to see the alternative. So its shorts and a shirt tonight but for next month’s Halloween Costume Cruiser Ride we’ll be pulling out all the stops. Stay tuned for more on that front!
Riding to work and traveling to a committee meeting can be a challenge by bike. In the past I’ve managed to only get the call to serve on committees within a mile or two from my office: easy bike to meeting range. A couple years ago I had the pleasure of serving on a group that convened out in Aurora. Fortunately they met early in the morning so I was able to get up and bike down to the main bus depot and hop the express out to the location. Getting back to work was an easy express ride to Denver. Faced with the proposition of an afternoon meeting in Golden I found myself again busing it once a month with my bike. While the commute via bike and bus takes about 15 min longer than driving, I find the time on the bus to generally be more productive work-wise than sitting in a car. I can get caught up on email, read docs or reports and actually prep for the upcoming meeting (which otherwise wouldn’t happen if I went straight from office-to drive-to meeting…there’s just no time for luxuries like effective preparation.)
Today I was able to check some email and get caught up from some lingering items outstanding from last week’s time out of the office, and I got to enjoy the company of some of my fellow bus travelers. Most of the afternoon’s conversation centered around a fellow with macular degeneration who talked at length about how he rides his bike downtown to Golden frequently much to the dismay of his wife who gives him a fair bit of grief about it. When pressed about his route he indicated that the roads are in fact smoother and more direct than the path, which got a chuckle out of everyone around him now listening to the conversation. “I usually take the road down, and then the path back he said,” which made perfect sense to me I suppose; as he had in fact already acknowledged his inability to effectively see either. He also told us a funny story about how he got a call indicating that he was qualified to win a scooter: he just had to answer a few questions. His response to the caller was “Well hopefully the first question isn’t: can you see to drive the thing!” This again got a pretty good laugh from the other riders. He got off at the same stop as I did and cane in hand made his way down the sidewalk. It goes to show how far one can get on sheer willpower and strength of character (if not a bit of stubbornness as well), even despite seemingly limiting obstacles. People all the time say, “Oh I’d probably be able to ride my bike but this and that and such and such.” Well this man could barely see and apparently had a nagging wife: that didn’t stop him!
Home at last from all my biking and busing in a professional sense, its time to load up the bikes for the monthly Golden Cruiser Ride. Tonight marks the second to last installment of this wonderful summer institution. The theme tonight apparently is PJ Party…which is not a theme I can really get behind. I don’t really P or J and I assure you that no one wants to see the alternative. So its shorts and a shirt tonight but for next month’s Halloween Costume Cruiser Ride we’ll be pulling out all the stops. Stay tuned for more on that front!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Rumors and Hearsay
Spoked has definitely been offline for much of the summer. And with any hiatus or departure from the public eye, gossip begins to spread and rumors grow. So in the interest of rekindling my intimate relationship with all you wonderful bike loving, blog reading folk I thought I’d enter the confessional booth and say my Hail Mary’s and Hello Dolly‘s. I’ll try to address all of the speculation and rampant rumor mongering to cut off many of these ill-truths and falsehoods at the head.
Do you even still ride a bike any more? I heard you quit.
Well don’t believe everything that you hear. Of course I ride my bike…all the time. I still get around town on my trusty Surly and have racked up over 3,500 miles on it since Feb. (Don’t pay attention to that there odometer to the right just yet, I’ve not sorted it out.) I’ve enjoyed riding to work around the 2 dozen detours and construction projects which have made my commute an exercise in backtracking and circumlocution.
Well do you race? I heard you quit.
Well don’t believe everything that you hear….ok this one is more or less true. I did: I raced. I raced this season (like 4-5 times) and that was that. I don’t train. I don’t measure my food, weigh myself in the morning each day, and check my resting heart rate when I get up before I pee and then weigh myself again. I don’t name my days of the week: interval, hill repeat, recovery, active recovery, LSD, race-day. They’re back to Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday etc. I just couldn’t find the mojo to get it working for racing this year. While I miss hanging out with my team I don’t miss the second job…amateur bike racing. I now enjoy my bike and when I want to park it, I enjoy parking it.
Have you secretly been using your bike as a tool to invoke a communist, UN led revolution here in Colorado?
Sort of…that’s about all I’ll say. You can thank Dan Maes for ruining that one though: if it weren’t for that pesky kook-pot, tin-foil hat republican, and his dog too (reread that last bit and think about Scooby Doo…it makes this quasi true story much, much better.)
What happened to the Dick?
Well the Dick finally got caught. Alas I was not the one to catch him, but I did hear all about the tale and will be updating you all on that fantastic sea-yarn very shortly. It involves a harpoon, a stakeout, and the Wheatridge PO.
What about the trip across CO?
Oh yeah baby what about it? Its happenin’…next weekend. I’ve actually been training for this event over the past month or so with several preparation rides and other bouts of prolonged suffering on my heavy bike with bags full of heavy stuff. I’m heading out to the eastern border Thursday night and then I’m going to guide my Surly LHT westward to the CO border near Fruita. While I’m out there I might just mountain bike my Surly with all its pannier weight on some sweet Fruita single track…or I might just drink some wine and pass out instead. Who knows? I’m gearing up for this ride so I’ll be posting all my ride details, experiences and in’s and out’s on this here blog. Just stay posted.
Did Elin hit you with a golf club too when you told her all about Tiger?
No, she was pretty grateful to find out about her DB husband. I won’t see any of that cash though which is a bummer, I thought we had something real special…like a connection or something.
So what’s new in bikes?
Nothing. It is still a simple, gear driven, human propelled machine. It’s the most efficient method of human conveyance. I think they make them out of aluminum now though which is pretty cool.
Any funny commuter stories?
Well I was riding home from work the other day and I got passed by this racer, all kitted up for his weekday afternoon glory. He passed me at the light at Pierce heading up the hill before Wadsworth and then made a big acceleration up to the light. But he stalled! He kind of looked back and then down at his bike. His SRAM doubletap failed him and he dropped his heavy, sponsor laden chain like a CAT 4 amateur in a Pink Floyd jersey. I smoked him after that, laughing all the way to Paris…oh wait. Did that really happen? Now who’s spreading rumors?
Well I think that covers it for now. And you know what? I feel much better. Don’t you?
Do you even still ride a bike any more? I heard you quit.
Well don’t believe everything that you hear. Of course I ride my bike…all the time. I still get around town on my trusty Surly and have racked up over 3,500 miles on it since Feb. (Don’t pay attention to that there odometer to the right just yet, I’ve not sorted it out.) I’ve enjoyed riding to work around the 2 dozen detours and construction projects which have made my commute an exercise in backtracking and circumlocution.
Well do you race? I heard you quit.
Well don’t believe everything that you hear….ok this one is more or less true. I did: I raced. I raced this season (like 4-5 times) and that was that. I don’t train. I don’t measure my food, weigh myself in the morning each day, and check my resting heart rate when I get up before I pee and then weigh myself again. I don’t name my days of the week: interval, hill repeat, recovery, active recovery, LSD, race-day. They’re back to Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday etc. I just couldn’t find the mojo to get it working for racing this year. While I miss hanging out with my team I don’t miss the second job…amateur bike racing. I now enjoy my bike and when I want to park it, I enjoy parking it.
Have you secretly been using your bike as a tool to invoke a communist, UN led revolution here in Colorado?
Sort of…that’s about all I’ll say. You can thank Dan Maes for ruining that one though: if it weren’t for that pesky kook-pot, tin-foil hat republican, and his dog too (reread that last bit and think about Scooby Doo…it makes this quasi true story much, much better.)
What happened to the Dick?
Well the Dick finally got caught. Alas I was not the one to catch him, but I did hear all about the tale and will be updating you all on that fantastic sea-yarn very shortly. It involves a harpoon, a stakeout, and the Wheatridge PO.
What about the trip across CO?
Oh yeah baby what about it? Its happenin’…next weekend. I’ve actually been training for this event over the past month or so with several preparation rides and other bouts of prolonged suffering on my heavy bike with bags full of heavy stuff. I’m heading out to the eastern border Thursday night and then I’m going to guide my Surly LHT westward to the CO border near Fruita. While I’m out there I might just mountain bike my Surly with all its pannier weight on some sweet Fruita single track…or I might just drink some wine and pass out instead. Who knows? I’m gearing up for this ride so I’ll be posting all my ride details, experiences and in’s and out’s on this here blog. Just stay posted.
Did Elin hit you with a golf club too when you told her all about Tiger?
No, she was pretty grateful to find out about her DB husband. I won’t see any of that cash though which is a bummer, I thought we had something real special…like a connection or something.
So what’s new in bikes?
Nothing. It is still a simple, gear driven, human propelled machine. It’s the most efficient method of human conveyance. I think they make them out of aluminum now though which is pretty cool.
Any funny commuter stories?
Well I was riding home from work the other day and I got passed by this racer, all kitted up for his weekday afternoon glory. He passed me at the light at Pierce heading up the hill before Wadsworth and then made a big acceleration up to the light. But he stalled! He kind of looked back and then down at his bike. His SRAM doubletap failed him and he dropped his heavy, sponsor laden chain like a CAT 4 amateur in a Pink Floyd jersey. I smoked him after that, laughing all the way to Paris…oh wait. Did that really happen? Now who’s spreading rumors?
Well I think that covers it for now. And you know what? I feel much better. Don’t you?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
With a little help from my friends
Usually when I spy a race slick tire coming up alongside me on my commutes I figure I’m most assuredly about to get “schooled.” Sometimes these riders just blow by, unencumbered by the weight of a full pannier and hefty touring bike. Other times they think they’re going to blow by but actually end up stalling out in front of me at a hill or other such obstacle. I find the latter group a bit more annoying than the first. You can’t blame someone for passing a slow moving vehicle, but you can blame them for becoming one in return.
Today I’d gone out to our office on the northeast side of Denver. When I left work the morning’s benevolent tailwind now met me head on as I slogged my way westward. In addition to the wind I found myself in a somewhat sour mood. Riding downtown, which I don’t do too often, I’d been buzzed, honked at, flipped off and passed while stopped at a light by a cyclist who thought it more prudent to just run it. Deep down inside I hold him partially accountable for the buzzing and honking culture I have to contend with. I was annoyed and each gust of the 30+mph headwind only egged on my sense of annoyance. Can I just say that on a particularly windy day it is especially insulting to ride by those “Your Current Speed Is: “ displays, only to have your whopping 14mph speed displayed in bright yellow brilliance for all the world to see. So when the light changed at Sheridan and 26th and I heard the tell-tale sign of Keo’s clicking behind me I thought for sure I knew what to expect next. In truth fate did not disappoint and just passing the Burger King I caught the approach of skinny tires out of the corner of my eye. However, when the rider passed me today he quickly slid back over and said, “I’ll pull for a while.”
Dumbstruck but comfortably in the safety of the draft my speed increased dramatically and I breathed easier. I sat in for a while and then took a pull up to the light at Wadsworth. I never caught the rider’s name. He was commuting home from work as well with his gear in a Timbuktu messenger bag. He was new to the area having recently come back to Denver from Spokane. He rode a Specialized. He had an optimistic view of the weather and the impending change back to cold and rain due in the latter half of the week. I enjoyed swapping pulls with him and shooting the breeze…no pun intended. I arrived home more refreshed than I would have if I’d made the trek alone, and I was in much better spirits having shared the suffering with another rider. Sometimes it is nice to be out on the open road, enjoying the solitude of the ride and the peace of your own thoughts as company. And yet when the headwinds are a blowin’ and the horns a honkin’ its almost always better riding with a friend; even one you‘ve just met and may never see again. But if I do see him again he’s definitely got a wheel. I owe him that much.
Today I’d gone out to our office on the northeast side of Denver. When I left work the morning’s benevolent tailwind now met me head on as I slogged my way westward. In addition to the wind I found myself in a somewhat sour mood. Riding downtown, which I don’t do too often, I’d been buzzed, honked at, flipped off and passed while stopped at a light by a cyclist who thought it more prudent to just run it. Deep down inside I hold him partially accountable for the buzzing and honking culture I have to contend with. I was annoyed and each gust of the 30+mph headwind only egged on my sense of annoyance. Can I just say that on a particularly windy day it is especially insulting to ride by those “Your Current Speed Is: “ displays, only to have your whopping 14mph speed displayed in bright yellow brilliance for all the world to see. So when the light changed at Sheridan and 26th and I heard the tell-tale sign of Keo’s clicking behind me I thought for sure I knew what to expect next. In truth fate did not disappoint and just passing the Burger King I caught the approach of skinny tires out of the corner of my eye. However, when the rider passed me today he quickly slid back over and said, “I’ll pull for a while.”
Dumbstruck but comfortably in the safety of the draft my speed increased dramatically and I breathed easier. I sat in for a while and then took a pull up to the light at Wadsworth. I never caught the rider’s name. He was commuting home from work as well with his gear in a Timbuktu messenger bag. He was new to the area having recently come back to Denver from Spokane. He rode a Specialized. He had an optimistic view of the weather and the impending change back to cold and rain due in the latter half of the week. I enjoyed swapping pulls with him and shooting the breeze…no pun intended. I arrived home more refreshed than I would have if I’d made the trek alone, and I was in much better spirits having shared the suffering with another rider. Sometimes it is nice to be out on the open road, enjoying the solitude of the ride and the peace of your own thoughts as company. And yet when the headwinds are a blowin’ and the horns a honkin’ its almost always better riding with a friend; even one you‘ve just met and may never see again. But if I do see him again he’s definitely got a wheel. I owe him that much.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
"We Are Traffic"
Today I pulled up to the light at Federal and 14th and chatted with a rider about broken glass on the path just south of the intersection. In his 50’s, outfitted in shorts, nylon jacket and riding a mountain bike with slick tires, rear rack and double panniers, he was heading downtown this morning. Other than his frustration at the insensitivity and rudeness of others, he seemed to be in high spirits. Yesterday I pulled up to the light at 17th and Federal and exchanged pleasantries with a fixed gear rider on the topic of my Surly frame, which lasted the following two blocks until we headed in different directions. He indicated that he has been considering getting a Long Haul Trucker frame to build up for touring and was curious about the weight and quality of the stock components. These types of exchanges are not uncommon when cycling. I’ve never had someone say good morning to me while driving but when riding it happens quite frequently. My most social interactions with other motorists (on the positive side at least) only occur when I’m driving my Vanagon and I pass another one: the other driver almost always waves.
And like the cult of Happy Vanagon Drivers, with the weather finally proving to be reliably pleasant, bicyclists are out in mass and generally seem to be enjoying themselves immensely. The other day I passed three riders heading up 20th on my way in to work. I almost always see bicyclist on the way home, usually in route to or from the quality hill climbing around Golden. In the morning I now see several riders around work navigating the mess of RTD construction detours which have the Platte River Trail routed through the neighborhood. Most people seem very pleased to be out riding and it is not uncommon to get a “Hello”, “Good Morning”, a simple nod of acknowledgement, if not a full on conversation even if just for the cycle of a stoplight.
I don’t begrudge this mass of fair-weather new riders, even the one’s who use these fine days as an excuse to once again emerge from hibernation to plague the rest of us with their poor bike handling, traffic navigation and riding skills. I wish more folks saw the feasibility and practicality of riding throughout the winter season, but in any case it is good to see so many people out on their bikes: even the tools and douchebags. There is something about being in the company of other cyclists that represents a kindred spirit of sorts and makes one feel a little less alone on the road. In Jeff Mapes book, Pedaling Revolution: How Cyclists Are Changing American Cities, he discusses how safety for cyclists improves as a result of an increased presence on public roadways. The central contention is that it is not necessarily improved bike lanes, road ways or signage which will ultimately make roads safer for cyclists, it is increased numbers. The more riders who take to the streets for recreation, sport or travel purposes, the greater the presence cyclists have in terms of contributing to the natural flow of traffic. One bicyclist is an exception and easily regarded as an annoyance by motorists, whereas dozens if not hundreds of cyclists become an equally substantial component of road volume as vehicles and traffic. For examples of how this plays out in reality one need look no further than European cities in Belgium or the Netherlands.
While there is certainly value to being unique or exceptional, there is some level of comfort derived from being part of the group. Previously, I compared cyclists to wolves in the sense that a wolf needs its pack for protection and survival. The more riders we have in the fold the stronger our pack and greater our presence and legitimacy amongst other users of the road. So to that end I am glad to see other bikes on the road. It has been a long, cold winter riding alone and the extra company is a welcome change of pace. And that even extends to those two guys out for their “training ride” the other day who blatantly blew the stop sign by my work and nearly ran me down as I, who had stopped by the way, was starting to turn left. I’m glad you’re out riding your bikes with me…even if I called you illiterate douche bags and wanted to beat your wannabe, poser asses with my U-lock. Its nothing but brotherly love, honest.
And like the cult of Happy Vanagon Drivers, with the weather finally proving to be reliably pleasant, bicyclists are out in mass and generally seem to be enjoying themselves immensely. The other day I passed three riders heading up 20th on my way in to work. I almost always see bicyclist on the way home, usually in route to or from the quality hill climbing around Golden. In the morning I now see several riders around work navigating the mess of RTD construction detours which have the Platte River Trail routed through the neighborhood. Most people seem very pleased to be out riding and it is not uncommon to get a “Hello”, “Good Morning”, a simple nod of acknowledgement, if not a full on conversation even if just for the cycle of a stoplight.
I don’t begrudge this mass of fair-weather new riders, even the one’s who use these fine days as an excuse to once again emerge from hibernation to plague the rest of us with their poor bike handling, traffic navigation and riding skills. I wish more folks saw the feasibility and practicality of riding throughout the winter season, but in any case it is good to see so many people out on their bikes: even the tools and douchebags. There is something about being in the company of other cyclists that represents a kindred spirit of sorts and makes one feel a little less alone on the road. In Jeff Mapes book, Pedaling Revolution: How Cyclists Are Changing American Cities, he discusses how safety for cyclists improves as a result of an increased presence on public roadways. The central contention is that it is not necessarily improved bike lanes, road ways or signage which will ultimately make roads safer for cyclists, it is increased numbers. The more riders who take to the streets for recreation, sport or travel purposes, the greater the presence cyclists have in terms of contributing to the natural flow of traffic. One bicyclist is an exception and easily regarded as an annoyance by motorists, whereas dozens if not hundreds of cyclists become an equally substantial component of road volume as vehicles and traffic. For examples of how this plays out in reality one need look no further than European cities in Belgium or the Netherlands.
While there is certainly value to being unique or exceptional, there is some level of comfort derived from being part of the group. Previously, I compared cyclists to wolves in the sense that a wolf needs its pack for protection and survival. The more riders we have in the fold the stronger our pack and greater our presence and legitimacy amongst other users of the road. So to that end I am glad to see other bikes on the road. It has been a long, cold winter riding alone and the extra company is a welcome change of pace. And that even extends to those two guys out for their “training ride” the other day who blatantly blew the stop sign by my work and nearly ran me down as I, who had stopped by the way, was starting to turn left. I’m glad you’re out riding your bikes with me…even if I called you illiterate douche bags and wanted to beat your wannabe, poser asses with my U-lock. Its nothing but brotherly love, honest.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
A Thank You Note
Dear Mother Nature,
Boy, you are one messed up lady; very schizophrenic this time of year aren’t you! This is Jason: I ride my bike a lot to work and around town and stuff. I just wanted to write and thank you for the torrential downpour yesterday morning. That was really entertaining. I could swear it wasn’t raining when I left my house…but I could be wrong (silly me!) I’m sorry I missed the hail though, that would have been a real hoot. I guess I got to work too early for that. But your 40+mph headwind last night on the ride home really gave my thighs the much needed workout they’ve recently been missing. I fought pretty hard on that downhill along 26th to Kipling and still only made 17 or 18 mph. That Surly Long Haul Trucker just isn’t aero enough for your gale force winds: I need to get some TT bars and slap them on it, maybe that will help!
But really, the snow today was top notch; really a great touch. It picked up just enough to smack me full on for my entire ride to work: I’m glad I didn’t miss any of it. You know that wet spring snow, its so tenacious: I had rain pants and full shoe covers on and my socks are still wet! Very well done MN! I do however wish more of the snow would have stuck to the roadway. The slush helped a bit, but really the snow didn’t stick...fortunately that left plenty to stick to my drive train components! The Surly makes a great single speed once you freeze up the rest of the cassette with ice and slush. Good thing that happened on the long downhill along 20th so I would get to enjoy my 11 tooth cassette ring the rest of the way to work. I now appreciate the full heft of a laden, cromoly steel, touring bike even more after today: thanks again MN you’re swell! I’m glad I brought that towel to wipe my bike down, too bad you can’t wipe away frozen slush from in between the teeth of cogs—I guess it will just have to melt naturally and rust my components even more; golly that will be great.
Well, I’m sure glad you’re having fun with yourself. You really look to be in rare form this spring. If I’m lucky maybe there will be locusts this afternoon or it will rain toads like in a cataclysmic biblical sense. That would be the cherry on top for sure.
Bye For Now!
--jason (of the Surly—surely—wet sock and boxer clan)
Boy, you are one messed up lady; very schizophrenic this time of year aren’t you! This is Jason: I ride my bike a lot to work and around town and stuff. I just wanted to write and thank you for the torrential downpour yesterday morning. That was really entertaining. I could swear it wasn’t raining when I left my house…but I could be wrong (silly me!) I’m sorry I missed the hail though, that would have been a real hoot. I guess I got to work too early for that. But your 40+mph headwind last night on the ride home really gave my thighs the much needed workout they’ve recently been missing. I fought pretty hard on that downhill along 26th to Kipling and still only made 17 or 18 mph. That Surly Long Haul Trucker just isn’t aero enough for your gale force winds: I need to get some TT bars and slap them on it, maybe that will help!
But really, the snow today was top notch; really a great touch. It picked up just enough to smack me full on for my entire ride to work: I’m glad I didn’t miss any of it. You know that wet spring snow, its so tenacious: I had rain pants and full shoe covers on and my socks are still wet! Very well done MN! I do however wish more of the snow would have stuck to the roadway. The slush helped a bit, but really the snow didn’t stick...fortunately that left plenty to stick to my drive train components! The Surly makes a great single speed once you freeze up the rest of the cassette with ice and slush. Good thing that happened on the long downhill along 20th so I would get to enjoy my 11 tooth cassette ring the rest of the way to work. I now appreciate the full heft of a laden, cromoly steel, touring bike even more after today: thanks again MN you’re swell! I’m glad I brought that towel to wipe my bike down, too bad you can’t wipe away frozen slush from in between the teeth of cogs—I guess it will just have to melt naturally and rust my components even more; golly that will be great.
Well, I’m sure glad you’re having fun with yourself. You really look to be in rare form this spring. If I’m lucky maybe there will be locusts this afternoon or it will rain toads like in a cataclysmic biblical sense. That would be the cherry on top for sure.
Bye For Now!
--jason (of the Surly—surely—wet sock and boxer clan)
Monday, April 5, 2010
The Colorado Spring Commute
“Mostly Cloudy and 30…” This is easy, long underwear and shorts, long sleeve shirt and t-shirt with hat and full finger gloves.
“…with a high of 65…” Alright, scratch the long sleeve shirt and t-shirt for jersey and arm warmers. Trade the full finger gloves for half fingers with thin liners. Tough it out and wear shorts with a knit hat for the morning and nothing in the pm.
“…gusty winds likely; 30 mph…” Hmm...ok, switch back to long underwear and shorts, t-shirt, arm warmers and maybe a vest. Definitely keep the full finger gloves. Knit hat for morning and maybe a bike hat for the afternoon. Ditch the vest if it gets windy but stays sunny and warm.
“…and a chance of rain.” Mother f#$%@!... Toss the shorts and go with: trusty old thrift store khakis (which can be rolled up if dry and kept long if wet), keep the t-shirt and arm warmers, knit hat, toss in a rain jacket, bike hat for the afternoon. If it is dry, the jacket can go in the bag or be worn with the t-shirt if wet but warm, or with the long underwear shirt if it wet and cold, or with both if wet, cold and windy…ahhh screw it just bring everything.
“…with a high of 65…” Alright, scratch the long sleeve shirt and t-shirt for jersey and arm warmers. Trade the full finger gloves for half fingers with thin liners. Tough it out and wear shorts with a knit hat for the morning and nothing in the pm.
“…gusty winds likely; 30 mph…” Hmm...ok, switch back to long underwear and shorts, t-shirt, arm warmers and maybe a vest. Definitely keep the full finger gloves. Knit hat for morning and maybe a bike hat for the afternoon. Ditch the vest if it gets windy but stays sunny and warm.
“…and a chance of rain.” Mother f#$%@!... Toss the shorts and go with: trusty old thrift store khakis (which can be rolled up if dry and kept long if wet), keep the t-shirt and arm warmers, knit hat, toss in a rain jacket, bike hat for the afternoon. If it is dry, the jacket can go in the bag or be worn with the t-shirt if wet but warm, or with the long underwear shirt if it wet and cold, or with both if wet, cold and windy…ahhh screw it just bring everything.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
"How you like me now Denver?"--Mother Nature
Mother Nature spited the Primal 1st Bank Training camp on Friday and Saturday last weekend, but in an apparent extension of good will gave us a great Sunday for riding. Well not wanting to lull us into a false sense of self confidence she’s back and kicking us in the balls again. Denver’s getting nailed by the biggest snow storm to strike Denver in the local media’s recent (short attention span) memory. And while I generally disregard all the talk of blizzards and such nonsense, this one might live up to the hype.
Thanks to the crap weather which struck landfall here in Denver around 3:00...in earnest at least…the ride home SUCKED. The cold, driving, north wind; the stinging sleet and damp snow; the frosty, opaque glasses; wet socks; slush and splash back from cars; you name it this ride had it. Its almost April, what have we done to deserve this? I want to ride my bike on dry, sandless streets. I want to wear shorts, without knee warmers. I want a warm breeze and sunshine. Well I could carry on like this for a while, but at this point I’m home safe and so is my wife so I’m hoping for the best: Blizzard 2010, sock it in baby…I want pancakes for breakfast.
Thanks to the crap weather which struck landfall here in Denver around 3:00...in earnest at least…the ride home SUCKED. The cold, driving, north wind; the stinging sleet and damp snow; the frosty, opaque glasses; wet socks; slush and splash back from cars; you name it this ride had it. Its almost April, what have we done to deserve this? I want to ride my bike on dry, sandless streets. I want to wear shorts, without knee warmers. I want a warm breeze and sunshine. Well I could carry on like this for a while, but at this point I’m home safe and so is my wife so I’m hoping for the best: Blizzard 2010, sock it in baby…I want pancakes for breakfast.
I can tell by the tracks...bikes were here.
All smiles: snow won't stop this intrepid rider.
Blowing snow.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sianara Path, Its Been Real
Today afforded me the opportunity to play young urban professional one more time, this time with a full commute eastward into the belly of the beast: Cherry Creek. So after two days of high profile urban riding and path trolling, I now feel myself a learned expert on the subject. Before my ride tomorrow, which will once again push me head long into the world of industrial parks and tenement housing, I figured I’d dispense my wisdom and be shed of it.
- The small dog trend really needs to stop. These pocket puppies are the canine equivalent of a bag of Skittles to larger predators (like squirrels and such) and thus really serve no role in nature. Take your teensy-weensy poopsie and get it off the bike bath before an errant valve cap flies off and crushes its skull.
- There are a lot of people out there who enjoy the comfortable ride of a full suspension mountain bike. There are those who enjoy the effortless glide of road bike tires. And there's the third group who has no qualms about enjoying them both simultaneously.
- Aero bars…*&@#$%! aero bars. The market for aero bars is apparently very good despite our slumping economy and near 10% unemployment rate. Here’s a stock tip, buy shares of Performance because they must be making a killing selling tri bars to hybrid owners for their daily Tour de Pathlete.
- Old men on old road bikes are a trip to watch; overly loaded for their 20 mile constitutional, inappropriately dressed for any weather, they always seem to be suffering…even when waiting for the light to change.
- If you have no agenda, no job, no initiative to do anything or get anywhere then head out to the bike path around 2:00 in the afternoon and weave amongst the old men, path racers, hipsters and poopsie pocket pups. In fact bring your significant other or 12 and just make a parade of it while you’re at it. The more slowly pedaling weavers the merrier.
- The slowly pedaling, agendaless weavers always end up laying on the grass in the sun at the park, that one you pass as you make that last turn and head towards your schmuck job...who's laughing now office boy?
- A kitted up female cyclist will never wave or nod at you…ever.
- A kitted up male cyclist will only wave or nod if they think they’re faster than you, otherwise they’ll just pedal harder and over compensate.
- Most kitted up male cyclists cruising the path at 8:00am think they are faster than everyone.
- The IQ of driver’s in Cherry Creek goes down 10 points for every 10 grand of pre-tax income.
- There are a lot of people running at 2:00 in the afternoon; most of them are in really good shape and are apparently unemployed or nocturnal…so that’s how they do it.
- “I can ride my bike with no handlebars, no handlebars” While that might be true for the Flobots, its not true for most of the people who attempt it on the bike path. Just hang on tight for Pete’s sake. Pete is a nice guy and you’re complete lack of control or sense of balance is going to f* his shit up.
- The hardest part about riding a bike is selecting a helmet that fits properly on one’s cranium. Apparently few have mastered this skill, and many fail at it publicly every time they go out for a ride.
- Any guy riding in non-existent drops on his mountain bike, chain a-grindin' and a-squeakin', with a sweatshirt with “Ted” on the back will most assuredly be a douche bag. He’ll pass and then slow down right in front of you. He’ll cut people off at random. He’ll be wearing those radio headphone combo things. He’ll attempt riding with no hands--poorly and he will do it all just to spite you…and he will enjoy every minute of it.
- You can say “on your left” as loudly as you want, but if a runner is in their Ipod zone they will never hear. And as you go by right in the midst of their 'bringing sexy back' they will always give you that, “scary, fast passing, asshole cyclist” look as you pass.
- If you try not to pay attention to the fact that they are homeless people cheering for you, it almost feels like you are in turn 1 entering onto the Champs Elysees for the Tour and it might smell like it too.
- Any attempts by the city to “fix” cracks in a bike path only ends up making it worse. Say yes to crack, it is less annoying than rehab.
- Painting yellow lines on the bike path to help designate opposing lanes heading into tight turns or corners is a big mistake, as the amateurs look down at the lines to make sure they’re in the right place and inevitably end up veering into the other lane anyway.
- They could plaster the roadway with airport runway lights, neon signs and dancing purple monkeys in share the road shirts and drivers would still think that the marked bike lanes on city streets are their turf to be contested with a level of aggression and hostility one typically only associates with the West Bank or when the people in your office fight over the last Krispy Kreme in the break room.
- There is a moment in every cruiser bike rider’s ride when they realize that despite the cool appearance of their vintage ride, the posture, fit, weight and gearing of their heft machine is entirely inappropriate for their chosen route and distance. If you’re lucky enough you just might be around to witness this realization when it happens. Its like shooting stars and magic and nirvana and stuff.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Home Sweet Suburban Hole
I’ll preface this by saying first and foremost that I’m not really much of a city person. I’m not inclined towards the crowded living arrangements, noise and general din of urban living. I didn’t move to Colorado for its urban offerings; if I wanted urban culture and amenities I would have stayed in St. Louis or Indianapolis or better yet would have moved to Chicago as many of my collegiate friends did. Chicago is a big city. But city life was never my bag, which is why Denver held such an allure: it is urban but not really a ‘big’ city. So I’m somewhat conflicted. After our move down from the foothills we acted decisively on our anti-city inclinations and settled somewhere in the funky black hole that is the burbs: it was like committing but not really committing, one foot in one foot out as it were. Now I’m not talking about tract home burbs…but in truth our current neighborhood is not far off though. The net result of our move here, while positive on many levels, ultimately is clearly less than ideal. With my disclaimer aside, I go about my business on days such as today and feel myself tugged in a host of different directions leaving me questioning my sense of place.
Every time I travel into the heart of Denver for work purposes it impresses the hell out of me how easy navigating the city by bike truly is; there are many aspects of this city which I feel work really well in terms of car free accessibility and layout. People can get to the heart of the city via light rail or bus, or they can make their way by bike as many choose to do. I can approach Denver via one of three easily accessible east-west bike routes which span the distance between Lakewood/Golden here on the west all the way into downtown. Today I opted for the route down 26th past Sloan’s lake jogging south to the 23rd ave bike route. I easily could have taken 32nd through ’the Highlands’ or 20th more or less to 23rd again at Sloan’s Lake. These on street routes offer wide lanes for bike travel, are clearly marked and generally boast a number of riders heading in either direction. My route ultimately connected me with the Platte and Cherry Creek trails, what I would characterize as Denver‘s main bike and pedestrian super highways. In typical fashion I was not the only bicyclist out during the morning rush hour not by a long shot, and it was 28 degrees when I left my house (on its way to 60--only in Denver). The span of humanity coursing along the bike paths downtown today included young professionals on commuter style rigs, women and men kitted out for early morning training rides, hipsters heading to class at UCD, people cruising on their cruisers to wherever; it ran the whole gambit, each one representing a car not on Speer or some other major metro arterial. For a bike commuter the sight is about the most refreshing thing one can find save a trip to Holland or something like that. I got off the path near the convention center and headed up to catch the bike lane along 14th towards the Webb Building. Here I parked my bike in a secure location and after a short walk I hopped the 16th street mall ride between my meeting locations.
In route I passed all of the retail and dining offerings of the downtown area. I’m not much for nightlife, clubs, bars etc., they have their place and all, but I can fully appreciate the spectrum of coffee shops and breakfast sites open early in the morning. I love breakfast and good coffee and it is easy, if not obligatory, to find a local shop for your cup of jo versus the multitude of Starbucks coffee burners strewn about the place like dandelions in a well manicured lawn. Everything is easily within an easy walk or ride: banks, food, retail etc. While not on the scale of a New York City, one can easily find an outlet for whatever their needs may be all within a comfortable, car-free distance. For those who choose to (or can afford to) living and working downtown makes the option of a car free existence very attractive. In my opinion this should be the goal for any densely packed urban area with both commercial, entertainment and residential options. Yet, as highly as I regard the ease of navigation and travel within the Denver area, I still find myself conflicted in terms of my desire to live close to town versus out in the woods somewhere.
As I said earlier, I’m not a fan of urban living. I prefer to live out in the country or back up in the hills where I used to live. Yet it is hard to weigh my desire for a more rugged or rural lifestyle with the environmental costs of residing on the periphery of town and commuting in for work, shopping or recreational purposes. I don’t look back on my days of car commuting fondly with the added stress, time wasted, traffic, and long hours idling on the interstate. Unfortunately the burb-hole we now call home lies almost too far outside the periphery of the city to regularly take advantage of its conveniences more readily. I consider our neighborhood somewhat of a purgatory of sorts, sandwiched between the true subdivision burbs (hell in short) and the inner city (not really heaven in my mind, but better than the alternative). Our void is sorely lacking in accessible entertainment and dining options; days like today only reinforce how inconvenient and car dependent our neighborhood truly is. We have easy access to a grocery store and other such box retailers, yet prefer not to patron such establishments…unfortunately all of the friendly, local big-box competition is closer to town and not exactly in our hood. Similarly the streets lack the bike routes, bike parking, easy connection points and types of regular public transportation that make true urban living so convenient. Plus, we don’t work here. So while our commutes are now bikeable its still a commute and another door to door form of travel, more or less bypassing anything of value in the process. With Denver trying to market itself as a greener, alternative travel friendly, active place to live, I suppose we’re the target demographic for many of its in-fill efforts. At this point I suppose I am still resistant to its charms, yet after a day like today I have to admit my defenses are weakening, if even just the slightest, tiny bit
Every time I travel into the heart of Denver for work purposes it impresses the hell out of me how easy navigating the city by bike truly is; there are many aspects of this city which I feel work really well in terms of car free accessibility and layout. People can get to the heart of the city via light rail or bus, or they can make their way by bike as many choose to do. I can approach Denver via one of three easily accessible east-west bike routes which span the distance between Lakewood/Golden here on the west all the way into downtown. Today I opted for the route down 26th past Sloan’s lake jogging south to the 23rd ave bike route. I easily could have taken 32nd through ’the Highlands’ or 20th more or less to 23rd again at Sloan’s Lake. These on street routes offer wide lanes for bike travel, are clearly marked and generally boast a number of riders heading in either direction. My route ultimately connected me with the Platte and Cherry Creek trails, what I would characterize as Denver‘s main bike and pedestrian super highways. In typical fashion I was not the only bicyclist out during the morning rush hour not by a long shot, and it was 28 degrees when I left my house (on its way to 60--only in Denver). The span of humanity coursing along the bike paths downtown today included young professionals on commuter style rigs, women and men kitted out for early morning training rides, hipsters heading to class at UCD, people cruising on their cruisers to wherever; it ran the whole gambit, each one representing a car not on Speer or some other major metro arterial. For a bike commuter the sight is about the most refreshing thing one can find save a trip to Holland or something like that. I got off the path near the convention center and headed up to catch the bike lane along 14th towards the Webb Building. Here I parked my bike in a secure location and after a short walk I hopped the 16th street mall ride between my meeting locations.
In route I passed all of the retail and dining offerings of the downtown area. I’m not much for nightlife, clubs, bars etc., they have their place and all, but I can fully appreciate the spectrum of coffee shops and breakfast sites open early in the morning. I love breakfast and good coffee and it is easy, if not obligatory, to find a local shop for your cup of jo versus the multitude of Starbucks coffee burners strewn about the place like dandelions in a well manicured lawn. Everything is easily within an easy walk or ride: banks, food, retail etc. While not on the scale of a New York City, one can easily find an outlet for whatever their needs may be all within a comfortable, car-free distance. For those who choose to (or can afford to) living and working downtown makes the option of a car free existence very attractive. In my opinion this should be the goal for any densely packed urban area with both commercial, entertainment and residential options. Yet, as highly as I regard the ease of navigation and travel within the Denver area, I still find myself conflicted in terms of my desire to live close to town versus out in the woods somewhere.
As I said earlier, I’m not a fan of urban living. I prefer to live out in the country or back up in the hills where I used to live. Yet it is hard to weigh my desire for a more rugged or rural lifestyle with the environmental costs of residing on the periphery of town and commuting in for work, shopping or recreational purposes. I don’t look back on my days of car commuting fondly with the added stress, time wasted, traffic, and long hours idling on the interstate. Unfortunately the burb-hole we now call home lies almost too far outside the periphery of the city to regularly take advantage of its conveniences more readily. I consider our neighborhood somewhat of a purgatory of sorts, sandwiched between the true subdivision burbs (hell in short) and the inner city (not really heaven in my mind, but better than the alternative). Our void is sorely lacking in accessible entertainment and dining options; days like today only reinforce how inconvenient and car dependent our neighborhood truly is. We have easy access to a grocery store and other such box retailers, yet prefer not to patron such establishments…unfortunately all of the friendly, local big-box competition is closer to town and not exactly in our hood. Similarly the streets lack the bike routes, bike parking, easy connection points and types of regular public transportation that make true urban living so convenient. Plus, we don’t work here. So while our commutes are now bikeable its still a commute and another door to door form of travel, more or less bypassing anything of value in the process. With Denver trying to market itself as a greener, alternative travel friendly, active place to live, I suppose we’re the target demographic for many of its in-fill efforts. At this point I suppose I am still resistant to its charms, yet after a day like today I have to admit my defenses are weakening, if even just the slightest, tiny bit
Friday, March 5, 2010
Bike Commuting Can Suck When...
- You need to leave at 3:30pm at the latest to meet a contractor at home at 4:00.
- You get a call at 3:20 which eats up your time for changing and getting out the door.
- You get stuck behind a DB in the narrow parking lot at work who can’t get his Expedition unstuck and pulled around the Explorer coming the other way vying for the spot.
- You run smack into a monster headwind.
- You’ve now got 20 min to travel a distance you’d be pushing it to make in 25.
- You’re riding a 25+ lbs behemoth bike with all your crap in a stuffed pannier.
- You ran 5.5 hard miles at lunch (but in your fastest time yet!) and are subsequently spent.
- You hit every freaking light, even the one at Wadsworth and 26th which you busted your ass uphill to try and catch.
- A German Shepherd, although ‘restrained’ by its owner, lunges out at you and almost pushes you into oncoming traffic.
- Every pedal stroke on your monster truck bike, translated to your road bike (comfortably sitting in the dining room at home) would easily net you 5+ more mph for the effort…and you make this calculation with every pedal stroke.
- The damned wind just won’t stop.
- You kill yourself to get home and make it by 4:02 and hope that like all contractors, delivery persons, and repair men these guys are late…but nope, they’re standing in your driveway and they give your sweaty, exasperated ass the, “hey get a load of this guy” look.
"It really shifts it, your fog."
Thank you Eddie Izzard for running through my head all morning on my foggy, foggy commute. Actually out in Lakewood it was gorgeous for early March and really only gooped up towards Denver...typical.
Here's a shot from across Sloans Lake (still a sheet of ice) towards the skyline of Denver.
This pic of Mile High, Denver and some misc. industrial junk turned out better than I thought for a 2 mpix, crap, camera phone.
Happy Friday riding!
Here's a shot from across Sloans Lake (still a sheet of ice) towards the skyline of Denver.
This pic of Mile High, Denver and some misc. industrial junk turned out better than I thought for a 2 mpix, crap, camera phone.
Happy Friday riding!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Oh, you horny baby?
Picture this:
Cyclist heads down residential street towards a three way stop; the road he’s on either turns right or left at the stop sign. He sits about 100ft from the sign moving at a relatively respectable pace for a guy on a commuter toting dress slacks and shirt, a lunch and running shoes. A car poised at the stop in front of him delays a bit before making its turn; now about 75ft out from the stop. From behind him the cyclist hears the hum of a motor and the distinct sound of acceleration. To hold his rightful spot in traffic, and signal his intent to turn left at the stop, the cyclist gives a glance back to see how much room there is, sticks out his left hand indicating he’s coming over and at this point coasts to the stop. Track stand, glance right, then left, and onward: no harm no foul right? Once the Toyota RAV 4, or some such equivalent, makes its turn the driver proceeds up behind the cyclist and hits the horn before driving past. WTF!?!
I can appreciate that the horn was designed for a distinct purpose, to allow motorists to communicate to other motorists that they may be in danger of collision. It apparently also works well to tell people in houses that you’re impatiently sitting out front idling and racking up greenhouse gases, but I digress. But with our over personification of vehicles as extensions of our very being, the horn has become a stand in for our loud mouths or lewd gestures (sometimes you still get the gestures.) Yet, I’ve rarely been honked at while driving. It has happened of course, but few and far between and usually I did deserve it. On the other hand I get honked at while cycling all the time. What is it about a guy on a bike that instigates some type of ‘vocal’ response from a driver via their horn?
I SELDOM ride in the middle of traffic, the exceptions being there’s something in the shoulder or I’m keeping pace with the cars in front or behind me. When its crappy and icy you bet your beeping horn I’m going to enter traffic (safely) to avoid ice on the side of the road. Similarly, because I’m generally faster than rush hour traffic downtown, if I’m riding around 15th, Larimer, Wazee etc in Denver, then I’m in the lane. I can hold 25-30mph long enough to hit the next light just like any car. I’m no Lance Armstrong but I can move a bike with authority when needs be. So there should be no reason to honk. People don’t honk at school buses slowing to pick up kids (no one did this morning), yet these large yellow vessels are clearly impeding their flow of motion. They likely wouldn’t honk at a geriatric barely hitting the speed limit; I suppose some might. A driver wouldn’t be apt to honk at farm or construction equipment driving on the shoulder, half in the lane, half out of it. So why honk at a bicyclist? Cars don’t honk at kids playing, people walking, joggers, ice cream trucks, police cars or UPS guys….all of which could be impeding their beloved right of way more than any cyclist…it just doesn’t make any sense!
Sometimes the honk is clearly a message that the driver is excited to see people on bikes. I’ve been honked at by people I know and I’ve been honked and waved at by total strangers who just think someone on a bike is a cool thing. I suppose I can accept this, however not expecting the blare (or gentle toot) of a horn from behind, you never know if you’re getting honked at out of love or out of a warning that you should consider your last rites: “How fast can YOU say the Lord’s Prayer before my bumper knocks the shit out of you.” And then there are clearly the jerk honkers…they honk cause they’re intimidated and angry at people on bikes and obviously lack the self control to just shut the hell up and get on with their lives. They perceive some sort of infraction against their beloved rolling steel cage on the part of the bicyclist, so they feel obligated to speak in its defense. “MY RAV 4 is precious and you made me stop at a stop sign…rot in hell @$%#%^$!#!” I can’t get my head around it, but it perturbs me greatly. When honked at I used to respond in turn with the bicyclist horn; usually some obscene gesture and ignorant comment. Now I just ignore it: what’s the point? Maybe eventually I will just be able to shrug it off…then again, maybe not.
On an unrelated note, I want to doff my hat to the mid 40’s, male pattern baldness driver of the Khaki (that’s Jeep’s official color) colored Jeep Wrangler Sport with black soft top at 26th and Kipling last night. We sat at the light, me behind you and waited for the drag race to begin. I totally thought I had the edge with my incredible capacity to overtake speeding cars... from behind…being a super-human bicyclist and rocking a 48X11 on my Surly and all. When you had to stop for that car turning left across from Gold’s Grocery I thought it was over and in the bag. Yet you put me in my place with your crunchy, hasty shifting, bat out of hell acceleration around the turning car from behind me in the bike lane. I thought I had your 6 cylinder 200+ horse engine beat over that mile before my turn but clearly should have thought again. You destroyed me and my manhood. I’ll never be able to look at my wife again and feel comfortable in my sexuality knowing that you and your large gas pedal are out there waiting to embarrass me again. This will inevitably ruin my marriage and my life...I'm looking at Enzyte ads now just to compensate, but it will never be enough. How foolish I was. It will never, ever, ever happen again. If I see you I will just pull over and vomit on my shoes in terror and deference…like a scared dog that wets itself upon first meeting strangers. Thanks for teaching me such a valuable lesson. (PS… I gladly would have testified in court on behalf of that Mazda who didn’t signal to turn left at Miller had your weak willed, small packaged, dumb-out-of-control-speeding-in-a-residential-area ass rear ended them…it looked close from where I stood, way too close for a freaking drive home. Hope your race home was worth it to get indoors so you could spank it alone to soft core porn on Skin-emax and visions of how you "beat that bicyclist"you loser. You’re a douche bag; likely always have been and likely always will be. And now everyone reading this will know it too.)
Cyclist heads down residential street towards a three way stop; the road he’s on either turns right or left at the stop sign. He sits about 100ft from the sign moving at a relatively respectable pace for a guy on a commuter toting dress slacks and shirt, a lunch and running shoes. A car poised at the stop in front of him delays a bit before making its turn; now about 75ft out from the stop. From behind him the cyclist hears the hum of a motor and the distinct sound of acceleration. To hold his rightful spot in traffic, and signal his intent to turn left at the stop, the cyclist gives a glance back to see how much room there is, sticks out his left hand indicating he’s coming over and at this point coasts to the stop. Track stand, glance right, then left, and onward: no harm no foul right? Once the Toyota RAV 4, or some such equivalent, makes its turn the driver proceeds up behind the cyclist and hits the horn before driving past. WTF!?!
I can appreciate that the horn was designed for a distinct purpose, to allow motorists to communicate to other motorists that they may be in danger of collision. It apparently also works well to tell people in houses that you’re impatiently sitting out front idling and racking up greenhouse gases, but I digress. But with our over personification of vehicles as extensions of our very being, the horn has become a stand in for our loud mouths or lewd gestures (sometimes you still get the gestures.) Yet, I’ve rarely been honked at while driving. It has happened of course, but few and far between and usually I did deserve it. On the other hand I get honked at while cycling all the time. What is it about a guy on a bike that instigates some type of ‘vocal’ response from a driver via their horn?
I SELDOM ride in the middle of traffic, the exceptions being there’s something in the shoulder or I’m keeping pace with the cars in front or behind me. When its crappy and icy you bet your beeping horn I’m going to enter traffic (safely) to avoid ice on the side of the road. Similarly, because I’m generally faster than rush hour traffic downtown, if I’m riding around 15th, Larimer, Wazee etc in Denver, then I’m in the lane. I can hold 25-30mph long enough to hit the next light just like any car. I’m no Lance Armstrong but I can move a bike with authority when needs be. So there should be no reason to honk. People don’t honk at school buses slowing to pick up kids (no one did this morning), yet these large yellow vessels are clearly impeding their flow of motion. They likely wouldn’t honk at a geriatric barely hitting the speed limit; I suppose some might. A driver wouldn’t be apt to honk at farm or construction equipment driving on the shoulder, half in the lane, half out of it. So why honk at a bicyclist? Cars don’t honk at kids playing, people walking, joggers, ice cream trucks, police cars or UPS guys….all of which could be impeding their beloved right of way more than any cyclist…it just doesn’t make any sense!
Sometimes the honk is clearly a message that the driver is excited to see people on bikes. I’ve been honked at by people I know and I’ve been honked and waved at by total strangers who just think someone on a bike is a cool thing. I suppose I can accept this, however not expecting the blare (or gentle toot) of a horn from behind, you never know if you’re getting honked at out of love or out of a warning that you should consider your last rites: “How fast can YOU say the Lord’s Prayer before my bumper knocks the shit out of you.” And then there are clearly the jerk honkers…they honk cause they’re intimidated and angry at people on bikes and obviously lack the self control to just shut the hell up and get on with their lives. They perceive some sort of infraction against their beloved rolling steel cage on the part of the bicyclist, so they feel obligated to speak in its defense. “MY RAV 4 is precious and you made me stop at a stop sign…rot in hell @$%#%^$!#!” I can’t get my head around it, but it perturbs me greatly. When honked at I used to respond in turn with the bicyclist horn; usually some obscene gesture and ignorant comment. Now I just ignore it: what’s the point? Maybe eventually I will just be able to shrug it off…then again, maybe not.
On an unrelated note, I want to doff my hat to the mid 40’s, male pattern baldness driver of the Khaki (that’s Jeep’s official color) colored Jeep Wrangler Sport with black soft top at 26th and Kipling last night. We sat at the light, me behind you and waited for the drag race to begin. I totally thought I had the edge with my incredible capacity to overtake speeding cars... from behind…being a super-human bicyclist and rocking a 48X11 on my Surly and all. When you had to stop for that car turning left across from Gold’s Grocery I thought it was over and in the bag. Yet you put me in my place with your crunchy, hasty shifting, bat out of hell acceleration around the turning car from behind me in the bike lane. I thought I had your 6 cylinder 200+ horse engine beat over that mile before my turn but clearly should have thought again. You destroyed me and my manhood. I’ll never be able to look at my wife again and feel comfortable in my sexuality knowing that you and your large gas pedal are out there waiting to embarrass me again. This will inevitably ruin my marriage and my life...I'm looking at Enzyte ads now just to compensate, but it will never be enough. How foolish I was. It will never, ever, ever happen again. If I see you I will just pull over and vomit on my shoes in terror and deference…like a scared dog that wets itself upon first meeting strangers. Thanks for teaching me such a valuable lesson. (PS… I gladly would have testified in court on behalf of that Mazda who didn’t signal to turn left at Miller had your weak willed, small packaged, dumb-out-of-control-speeding-in-a-residential-area ass rear ended them…it looked close from where I stood, way too close for a freaking drive home. Hope your race home was worth it to get indoors so you could spank it alone to soft core porn on Skin-emax and visions of how you "beat that bicyclist"you loser. You’re a douche bag; likely always have been and likely always will be. And now everyone reading this will know it too.)
Friday, February 26, 2010
Surly Anton Oh-No!
Leaving the Lucky Strike bowling alley downtown around 9:00 last night, the “storm” that arrived just in time to turn the rush hour commute into a wet mess had more or less run its course. The blanket of clouds unveiled a few dark holes revealing the faint trace of dim stars. What a lovely evening it turned out to be. Heading home Kate asked if I thought the heavily soaked roads would dry or at least remain wet by morning…the appropriate answer at that point should have been “No way in hell.” But I coolly replied that I thought they’d likely dry if the clouds parted and drier air moved in overnight. I am no meteorologist.
After walking the dog this morning Kate returned and pronounced after “nearly falling twice while crossing 20th,” that she would be taking her bike on the bus with her to work today. I contemplated my options but succumbed to my far-sighted mannishness and hopped on the bike. I can say that I have jumped out of a plane, led multi-pitch climbing routes with both traditional and free techniques, flown on a Russian airline and slept under a bridge in Texas in the winter. I have done many crazy and seemingly stupid things. Yet I cannot recall a time in recent memory where I’ve had more “Oh Shit” moments than on the ride in to work today. I wish I could have effectively captured the conditions of the road with my crap Sanyo camera phone, but the radiating glare of mirrored black ice only translated into hazy white splotches with every picture taken. I’d need some serious equipment and actual photographic abilities to truly do photographic justice to the god awful state of this morning's roads.
While I made my way through the neighborhood, I managed to keep to the shoulders where the snow accumulated at least enough to provide some sense of traction. On 20th the crusty ice in the bike lane crackled, snapped and popped like Rice Krispies or Pop Rocks. If you want a test of your bike handling skills very quickly get your bike out to Lakewood, Colorado before the temp rises and head down 20th to Carr. I could have brushed my teeth and combed my hair while looking at my reflection on Carr St. The entire stretch from 20th to 14th, my typical snow day detour, was a full curb to curb sheet of ice. The handful of drivers that slowly inched past me gladly returned my look of terror and panic because no one was going to have traction on that crap (the zig zag of previous vehicle tracks assured us of that). I actually think Kim Yu-Na passed me on Carr near the Volkswagen dealer…she didn’t give me 3ft either #@!%&. Cars spun their wheels in a futile effort to purchase hold of the asphalt while trying to cross Colfax. Turning onto 14th I fish tailed but managed to catch myself without putting my foot down; I only unclipped a half dozen or so times but never had to step down…doing so likely wouldn’t have helped much as my shoes had less traction than my tires. I scientifically tested this theory every time I stopped at a light. With every pedal stroke I shifted my weight to find balance and prayed that I wouldn't eat shit. I had a close call with some tracks on 14th. I ran out of shoulder and barely made it into the lane of traffic by Sheridan. I both cursed and prayed to every god and deity imaginable before I finally made it to drier land; I even busted out some chants from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom just to be safe....Kali-Ma owes me big time.
Leaving Lakewood and heading into Denver the conditions improved with each block towards the city center. By the time I neared Federal I felt much more relaxed. I was no longer tasting bile and my heart rate had edged back considerably (back to Zone 2 where Cat 3 Captain Jordan "I don't bowl" says I should be). I knew I’d make it at this point...maybe Kali-Ma likes me afterall. Perhaps next time I’ll be a bit more judicious in my decisions to ride in to work on ice. On the other hand as I’ve repeatedly proven in the past, what hasn’t killed me actually makes for a really great story. It also serves to increase the thickness of my skull such that, when the opportunity arises and being the dimwitted fool that I inevitably am, I’ll eagerly do it again, and again, and again...good times.
After walking the dog this morning Kate returned and pronounced after “nearly falling twice while crossing 20th,” that she would be taking her bike on the bus with her to work today. I contemplated my options but succumbed to my far-sighted mannishness and hopped on the bike. I can say that I have jumped out of a plane, led multi-pitch climbing routes with both traditional and free techniques, flown on a Russian airline and slept under a bridge in Texas in the winter. I have done many crazy and seemingly stupid things. Yet I cannot recall a time in recent memory where I’ve had more “Oh Shit” moments than on the ride in to work today. I wish I could have effectively captured the conditions of the road with my crap Sanyo camera phone, but the radiating glare of mirrored black ice only translated into hazy white splotches with every picture taken. I’d need some serious equipment and actual photographic abilities to truly do photographic justice to the god awful state of this morning's roads.
While I made my way through the neighborhood, I managed to keep to the shoulders where the snow accumulated at least enough to provide some sense of traction. On 20th the crusty ice in the bike lane crackled, snapped and popped like Rice Krispies or Pop Rocks. If you want a test of your bike handling skills very quickly get your bike out to Lakewood, Colorado before the temp rises and head down 20th to Carr. I could have brushed my teeth and combed my hair while looking at my reflection on Carr St. The entire stretch from 20th to 14th, my typical snow day detour, was a full curb to curb sheet of ice. The handful of drivers that slowly inched past me gladly returned my look of terror and panic because no one was going to have traction on that crap (the zig zag of previous vehicle tracks assured us of that). I actually think Kim Yu-Na passed me on Carr near the Volkswagen dealer…she didn’t give me 3ft either #@!%&. Cars spun their wheels in a futile effort to purchase hold of the asphalt while trying to cross Colfax. Turning onto 14th I fish tailed but managed to catch myself without putting my foot down; I only unclipped a half dozen or so times but never had to step down…doing so likely wouldn’t have helped much as my shoes had less traction than my tires. I scientifically tested this theory every time I stopped at a light. With every pedal stroke I shifted my weight to find balance and prayed that I wouldn't eat shit. I had a close call with some tracks on 14th. I ran out of shoulder and barely made it into the lane of traffic by Sheridan. I both cursed and prayed to every god and deity imaginable before I finally made it to drier land; I even busted out some chants from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom just to be safe....Kali-Ma owes me big time.
Leaving Lakewood and heading into Denver the conditions improved with each block towards the city center. By the time I neared Federal I felt much more relaxed. I was no longer tasting bile and my heart rate had edged back considerably (back to Zone 2 where Cat 3 Captain Jordan "I don't bowl" says I should be). I knew I’d make it at this point...maybe Kali-Ma likes me afterall. Perhaps next time I’ll be a bit more judicious in my decisions to ride in to work on ice. On the other hand as I’ve repeatedly proven in the past, what hasn’t killed me actually makes for a really great story. It also serves to increase the thickness of my skull such that, when the opportunity arises and being the dimwitted fool that I inevitably am, I’ll eagerly do it again, and again, and again...good times.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
DMV
Surprisingly I was the only visible cyclist at the Jefferson County Dept of Motor Vehicle Office this afternoon...I know shocked the shit out of me too. The Jeffco DMV (off Wadsworth) boasts a grand total of 0 bike racks. Not even a well placed handicap parking sign or slim light post. Fortunately the security guard out for a smoke when I pulled up let me place my bike inside the lobby. So I was the only bicyclist and my bike the only bike at the DMV today; kind of surreal. Especially so since I got to skip the typical DMV "take a number" routine because I just needed to pay for new tags. All the seething motorists already in the midst of the DMV-mind-melt eyed me with even more contempt once I sauntered up to the lady at the counter and handed over my cash. In and out in less than 5: this cyclist is fast! I’ve seen that look of bitter jealous rage before at stoplights, when I’ve ridden up to the front to be out of the way of the cars behind me and in the line of sight for oncoming vehicles potentially turning left. I'm sure that pisses drivers off more than anything (though technically its permissible in just about every state and municipality across this great nation.) Well I guess they got a taste of that medicine again at the DMV, cause I rode right up to the front and voila', on my way! Bike: 1 Car: 0....ha-ha-ha, suckas! Ok that probably took it a bit too far. I generally don’t like to play the “privileged cyclist” card because it upsets people to an inordinately irrational degree (and besides I’m not really out to pick a fight…can’t we all get along yadda-yadda). But in this instance the irony of the entire scene was too much to ignore; best DMV experience of my life.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
You Gotta Try This
Yesterday when I cracked the cover on the freshly delivered copy of VeloNews I couldn’t help my amazement when I saw a 4-5 page spread on bike commuting towards the back; just before the table that subtly guilt’s you for not riding 50 miles a day for your March training plan. However I digress, back to my shock: bike commuting…in VeloNews? Maybe in Bicycling Magazine or some more germane, proletarian publication but not the great homage to cycle sport and racing that is VeloNews. But sure enough my eyes had not deceived me and back towards page 60, underneath the obligatory season opening Lance cover, replete with similarly obligatory Mellow Johnny’s photo op, there in fact was an article and gear review on bike commuting.
Although the article only grazed the superficial details of bike commuting (remember to pack clothes, ride the path, plan for the weather etc) it was good to see commuting get some press in between coverage of Will Frischkorn using the computer and the Tour Down Under. Granted, the editor’s idea of gear selection includes $200 Rapha pants and other such nonsense, but this article represents a pretty good start. They even play to some of the stereotypes that cyclists (read road bike purists) have of folks who commute; largely that they are nostalgic remnants of the oil crisis, clad entirely in neon, riding rusty, beater mountain bikes…slowly. And while I’m almost 100% positive VeloNews sports one of these stories every year (about this time when race season isn’t fully underway) I like to think that this story represents an opening of the fold if you will, to let commuters in to the greater biking family. The tongue in cheek characterization of the bike commuter that VeloNews satirized slightly, as they also imply, really ought to fade into history. It is about time we got past the image and focus on the ends that justify the means.
Sure I race, I did, I do…its day to day some times, but regardless of my ACA or USAC classification I am above all else a bike commuter. To me the bicycle is the simplest, healthiest, most enjoyable form of transportation, especially for an urban dweller like myself. As a commuter turned racer I generally never really saw much of a distinction, however now that I’ve been amongst bike race culture for a little while now there clearly is a bit of stereotyping or judgment of commuters on the part of road cyclists. I’m not sure why this should be, unless there is a sense that endurance or anaerobic capacity is somehow the only yard stick by which the quality of cyclist can be measured. I’m sure to the typical VeloNews reading, race crowd enthusiast (or wanna-be) the accomplishments of the full season bike commuter pale in comparison to a yellow jersey, podium finish or high water Power Tap reading. Yet the draw of being out on a bike seemingly unites both camps. Additionally, the broader role that bikes could play in our society, building a more bike friendly and bike reliant culture similar to what one might encounter in some European cities, opens the doors for both commuters and sport cyclists. I’m glad to see that VeloNews recognized this connection, at least for one article.
The weekend at home sitting around the house made me realize the importance of regular daily exertion of some kind; in short, if I don’t ride I go crazy. I considered myself lucky to have the means and nerves to ride in to work yesterday and today, despite the snow, ice and freezing morning temps. And today while I pedaled my ass in to work at a balmy 16 degrees, not breaking zone 3, not pushing serious wattage, not setting a blistering pace I still enjoyed my ride and got a lot out of it in return. Considering the alternative of sitting around in traffic in a car, I figure my return to be quite a bit more than most. So for all the accomplishment that regular bike commuting is not in terms of race output and impressive ability: I was out riding and it seemed at least on my route today I was the only one.
Although the article only grazed the superficial details of bike commuting (remember to pack clothes, ride the path, plan for the weather etc) it was good to see commuting get some press in between coverage of Will Frischkorn using the computer and the Tour Down Under. Granted, the editor’s idea of gear selection includes $200 Rapha pants and other such nonsense, but this article represents a pretty good start. They even play to some of the stereotypes that cyclists (read road bike purists) have of folks who commute; largely that they are nostalgic remnants of the oil crisis, clad entirely in neon, riding rusty, beater mountain bikes…slowly. And while I’m almost 100% positive VeloNews sports one of these stories every year (about this time when race season isn’t fully underway) I like to think that this story represents an opening of the fold if you will, to let commuters in to the greater biking family. The tongue in cheek characterization of the bike commuter that VeloNews satirized slightly, as they also imply, really ought to fade into history. It is about time we got past the image and focus on the ends that justify the means.
Sure I race, I did, I do…its day to day some times, but regardless of my ACA or USAC classification I am above all else a bike commuter. To me the bicycle is the simplest, healthiest, most enjoyable form of transportation, especially for an urban dweller like myself. As a commuter turned racer I generally never really saw much of a distinction, however now that I’ve been amongst bike race culture for a little while now there clearly is a bit of stereotyping or judgment of commuters on the part of road cyclists. I’m not sure why this should be, unless there is a sense that endurance or anaerobic capacity is somehow the only yard stick by which the quality of cyclist can be measured. I’m sure to the typical VeloNews reading, race crowd enthusiast (or wanna-be) the accomplishments of the full season bike commuter pale in comparison to a yellow jersey, podium finish or high water Power Tap reading. Yet the draw of being out on a bike seemingly unites both camps. Additionally, the broader role that bikes could play in our society, building a more bike friendly and bike reliant culture similar to what one might encounter in some European cities, opens the doors for both commuters and sport cyclists. I’m glad to see that VeloNews recognized this connection, at least for one article.
***
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