Bike Commuting Thoughts

In honor of Bike to Work Week, here are a few random thoughts from a commute home recently. I had most of these thoughts in a very short stretch of road as I climbed Indian Canyon Drive. This is a climb (I suppose it is only a climb one direction, but I only recall going down it once on a bike and I have gone up it closer to 100 times on a bike) from Government Way up to the Sunset Highway along the edge of the Indian Canyon Golf Course. It is a very pretty stretch of road if you don't mind going uphill.

About a third of the way up the hill last week I encountered what I believe was someone's Verizon bill, which had been very deliberately into squares that were approximately 3/4" x 3/4". I don't know why, but my guess is that someone was unhappy with the bill and wanted the satisfaction of tearing it up and throwing it out the window. I wish they hadn't. I was tempted to pick up enough pieces to figure out who it was and then call the litter police, but that didn't seem like a good use of time for the hour it would take, but I was amazed at what people think is a good idea. Being on a bike makes you much more aware of what the ground looks like.

Within a few hundred yards of this littering, I had some of the best and worst of car behavior with regard to cyclists. As I came up a steep bend, a car had the choice of going around me or waiting. As any of you commuter/riders know, 99% of the time drivers will zoom past without regard to whether that is safe or not. If they can't see oncoming traffic, they will just move over and if someone comes, they feel free to cut you off or run you off the road. In this instance, amazingly, the driver just waited behind me. I kept pedaling up the hill and around the blind corner and waived them around as soon as I could see. This was also about the time they could see, since they were closer to the center-line and the whole thing was very pleasant. My guess is that I delayed this driver for a maximum of 20-30 seconds, but it was probably closer to 15-20 seconds. Whether this caused the driver's total trip to be 30 seconds longer is very unlikely, but it is remarkable what people will do to avoid these few seconds of delay. In this case, I was not surprised to see a bike rack on the back of the Subaru that went around me. It takes one to respect one, maybe.

Not long after this experience, while I was onto a straight section of road, I had another encounter with a Subaru. In this case, the driver had a clear view of the road, but for some reason decided to either shift down a gear or speed up and cut next to and in front of me as fast and close as possible, as if I was a pylon on a stunt-driving course. I take most things in stride out cycling, having ridden enough miles to have encountered it all many times, but this was genuinely upsetting. I was being toyed with like an inanimate object and it is not a good feeling. It is hard to understand how you can have so little regard for a fellow human being. On "The Office" this past week, Ed Helms' character took Steve Carell's character to meet the husband of the wife with whom he was having an affair. They did it in their usual zany, wacky way, but the point was to not ignore the human behind the actions. I would like to introduce myself to the Subaru driver treating me like a pylon and suggest that he would be unhappy with any of the negative outcomes from his behavior. His few seconds of mirth would hardly be worth the tragedy or ticket or whatever might happen.

This experience made me think of a great police operation/sting. Have a "commuter" who was actually a police officer ride along any arterial or non-arterial with a police cruiser down the road. The biking officer could radio the cruiser all of the idiotic, unsafe, unnecessary, unreasonable, illegal and ticketable offenses. Even if most drivers just got pulled over for a discussion, I think most would have second thoughts the next time they went around a cyclist. Think we will see that in Spokane? No, I think not either. Our community may have some progressive ideas, but our police force doesn't appear to.

Lower on the hill, I had another experience that makes me ponder human behavior. A Harley motorcycle was coming down the hill going to fast for the archaic technology or the driver's ability or both, but he crossed the center-line and then scrapped a foot peg or platform trying to correct to get back. It scared me to have a hulking piece of idiocy coming at me, but I'll bet it scared the motorcycle driver worse. I hope he will consider that it was embarrassing and maybe scary with a cyclist in the other lane, but it would have been a funeral if it had been a pick-up truck or school bus.

On a lighter note, a couple of years ago I had a set-up at work where I could take a week or so of clothing to work and then I was daily hauling back and forth just my "work" for the day in a messenger bag. It was convenient and it enabled me to ride a lighter bike. This year I am hauling panniers on a heavy bike but carrying the day's clothes back and forth. I haven't decided which is better.

Last thought. It is really a treat to ride my bike to work and home. Last week I had one day where I was working later than I wanted and it was stressing me a bit to know that it was going to take longer to get home than it would if I had had my car. Thankfully, as soon as I hit the street to ride home that feeling melted away. Instead of taking a "training" ride home, I just went directly home. It took a very few minutes longer to get there and it is a mind-cleansing way to travel.

If you bike to work, you know what I mean. If you don't, you should give it a try - despite the occasional idiots out there "sharing" the road.
Commuter Three

Say What?

This morning I did something that I have not done in 25 years of riding my bike. I decided yesterday that I would meet the Morning Ride guys at 5.45 am this morning. I haven't been out for a couple of weeks due to wheel/bike/schedule/life/work issues, but on the days I am not riding my bike to work, I would like to be sure to get a ride in and the morning is the best time to ensure that happens. Add in on Tuesdays that I drop my son off at school, which means a slightly later start for me every Tuesday, and it seems like the perfect day to get up at 5 am, ride my bike up Hatch so that I would have the privilege an hour later of watching 20 guys ride away from me up Hatch. Sounds like a good plan, no?

At 5.08 am this morning I woke up and looked at the clock. That is as late as I can get up and still hope to ride the 20+ minutes to join the ride. I was held up by various issues, the biggest being the thick, dense fog that was firmly settled into my brain that would not clear. I checked the outside temperature and noticed that at my elevation on the valley floor there was great visibility but about halfway up the bluff there was a layer of fog similar to that in my brain. No problem, though, so I got dressed a bit warmer to accommodate the cold, moist air, including putting on a light cap that fits under my helmet. Made my way to the basement to check air pressure and roll away.

As I was putting on my shoes I realized my brain was engaging in a round of yes/no. Yes I should ride; no I should not ride. Yes I needed to get in some miles; no I did not feel like going. Yes I would enjoy the ride eventually; no I did not want to go outside. Yes I have riding goals this summer that will be well served by riding; no I wasn't feeling like riding. Yes, the concrete floor did look comfortable for sleeping; no, I hadn't had a cup of coffee yet but could use one. Yes, it was still early enough to go back to sleep; no, that didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

You can see that this was a struggle. Normally I am happy to be getting on my bike, but this morning I could not muster that feeling at all. This was exacerbated by the time, which was looking more like I would be missing the ride start even if I climbed Hatch like a pumped up Marco Pantani (or Vinokurov if you are looking for a more recent example). Nonetheless, I put on my shoes, booties, gloves, pumped up the tires and rolled away from the house.

I have to ride along Highway 195 for about a mile and a half to get to Hatch. My brain was fuzzy and the air was seeming very wet and cold. I was still not enjoying myself, but at least I had stared down the negative thoughts and gotten out there. I was just a bit before Hatch when my brain started to very slowly process something. My thoughts went something like this, although to really get the feeling, pretend that you are reading this the way a 78 rpm record sounded when you put it on 33 1/3 rpm. In other words, like the words are translated through molasses.

Hmmm. Sommmethhhhinnnng is nnnnnoooot quiiiiiite rrrrriiiiight.

Whhhhhyyyyy doooooeeeessss mmmmyyyyy hhhhheeeeaaaad ffffffeeeeeeelllll diiiifffffeeeerrrrrreeeennnnt?

There is more wind on my head, I think, or it feels different, or maybe not.

I wonder if I put a helmet on this morning. No, that can't be right. I never ride without a helmet.

I wonder if I can see my helmet with my eyeballs if I look up. No, maybe not. I wonder if I should feel my head to check for a helmet. Yes, that is what I should do.

What. I don't have a helmet on my head. How can that be. What does that mean. Where is my helmet. Why am I riding down Highway 195 with semi's blowing past me while I have no helmet. Oh right, like a helmet is going to mean jack-squat if one of these 18-wheelers mows me down. But I should have a helmet. I wonder where there is one. I suppose back at home. Why don't I have a helmet. What does this mean.

You can see that these thoughts were moving very slowly in my cranium. I think that normally 1) I wouldn't leave without a helmet and 2) if I managed to do that, I would have an instantaneous "oh crap!?" reaction that would be jolt rather than a slowly dawning realization.

At that point, I started wondering whether this had been a subconscious sabotage of my ride. Part of my brain was saying "ride" but clearly some part of my brain had been putting up a valiant "no ride" fight. "Ride" had won the battle of getting out the door, but clearly "no ride" had won the war.

I turned around at Hatch, feeling a bit naked and vulnerable, and rode slowly back to my house, wondering all the time what had happened and what I should do next.

What I ended up doing was putting my bike back on the wall, taking off my cleats, and going up the the family room to lay down on the couch. Hopefully my head and body will get together for the next ride and I will cover more than 3 miles before 6 am.
Rider Thhhhrrrreeeeee.

Hamilton Tests Positive / Pro Night Canceled

It is hard to imagine that you haven't checked the blog each day for cycling commentary, but just in case, here is a reminder that Pro Night with Kit Vogel is canceled for this Friday. Kit has had a family emergency that will prevent her from making it to Spokane this weekend. Due to the short notice we were not able to secure a replacement speaker, so we will reschedule with Kit some time when she is available and we will put together another program soon.

In other news, bike enthusiasts everywhere can continue to have their joy sucked out of professional cycling. When Tyler Hamilton was first accused of doping violations it was almost unthinkable that this boy scout troop leader type cyclist would ever consider such a thing. Today, it seems unfortunately inevitable.

For a bit of irony, check out Rudy Pevange's comments in the First Edition Cycling News FROM TODAY literally hours before the Hamilton story was released, "The others - [Ivan] Gutierrez, [Tyler] Hamilton and [Francisco] Mancebo - have suffered so much of their history that they will never touch doping again." This is in the midst of comments about the common knowledge of blood transfusions in 2006.

More discussion is due on this topic, but for now, let us mourn the passing of Hamilton's dignity and our collective appreciation of his prior achievements, most or all of which are called into question as this story continues to unravel.

On a more positive note, let's ride our bikes! At least around here, the weather is looking great.

The Ride of the Damned - A Story in Two Parts

This a tale of two rides. They were the worst of rides and the worser of rides. Let me begin, as so many tales do, with an unreasonable hope that will ultimately be dashed against the shoals of despair and roads of asphalt.

For riders in the southern climates, this year's riding and racing season began around Thanksgiving. For those of us in Spokane, a Thanksgiving or New Year's Day ride is often possible but it is a triumph of spirit and will over the elements. And yes, I recognize that riders in Saskatoon think we are pansies since they don't start riding outdoors until the annual Saskatchewan Moose Husbandry Festival, which coincidentally coincides with our Fourth of July, and their season usually ends at the start of the Saskatchewan Ice Festival, which coincides with our August 1st. But this year in Spokane we have had a wretched and unending winter that has let loose hail, snow and cold rain day after day after godforsaken day.

So, when the promise of decent weather on a Saturday morning presented itself, it was a welcome relief and indication that we Spokanites might actually experience a change of season. As men of action, one of the members of Team Two Wheel took to electronic notification to our various friends, companions and fellow riders. We agreed to meet at The Scoop, an ice cream and coffee shop known to be friendly to cyclists, and roll away at noon. At the appointed hour it was a welcome sight to see 22 riders rolling up from literally every direction to take part. We had a range of riders, from some members of the GU cycling team to some members of the AARP cycling team. The weather was decent, in the mid-40's and it appeared that we picked a nice break in the intermittent rain.

There was brief discussion about a route, but no one was particularly committal. With a general sense of "Let's go" or "You lead the way", we headed out. There was minimal discussion of "about two hours" and "we can pick a spot where some people can head home and others can go longer". With a plucky sense of adventure suitable to a Gilbert and Sullivan production we followed Quicksilver off the South Hill, through Vinegar Flats and to the West Plains. Personally, I am never thrilled to heading up Thorpe Road, because it is not so steep as to be an actual hillclimb, but it too steep and too long to ignore. I gamely kept pace with the group, but was troubled to see that I was huffing and puffing mightily while my compatriots were talking pleasantly. We regrouped at the top, a welcome relief since I had exerted myself to stay with the front group, and moved on. The next bit along Spotted Road gave us a tail wind and we charged along 2 by 2 feeling good about being outside on our bikes in the nicest weather we had experienced yet this year. I noticed that our speed was high, but then again, so were our spirits.

Following well known roads, albiet with a few more noticable lumps of hills, we made our way to Cheney. There was still enough zest in the group to have some members sprinting for the City limit sign. At this point, though, there were the first rumblings about when to "turn back" or just what route. In a spirit of comraderie, some suggested we all stick together and a suitable turn off would be forthcoming. It was a few miles later that the first signs of fatigue started to be noticeable. Along the roller strewn Salnave Road, the group broke up for the first time. I was in the rear and was glad to no longer be holding on to the faster bunch. I knew the quickest route back, but the reality is that by turning left, instead of right, in Cheney, we were adding many miles to the route no matter what.

Somewhat to my surprise, I found the front group waiting for us on Clear Lake Road. We pulled up to the group and put a foot down for members to deal with various nutritional and natural functions. To my further surprise, Rider 1 posited that "some" of us, meaning me and whoever was foolhardy enough to go with me, should ride down Clear Lake Road while Rider 1 and 2 offered suggestions to the GU cycling team members on team time trial techniques and they tried to chase us down. My immediate response to this was something similar to "What if I don't want to be your f___ing rabbit? Okay, that was actually my exact response.

Nonetheless, always endeavoring to be a companionable individual, I agreed and invited some of the group to go with me. Keep in mind the following important facts when we consider the next thing that happened: there were 22 of us total; Rider 1 and 2 had volunteered to work with 3 members of the GU team, which basic math would indicate left me and 16 others who were available to ride up the road; and that just prior to this proposal, I was part of the "second" group, aka, the ones who didn't have the legs to stick with the first group. Therefore, it is completely logical that only one person was willing to come with me. Thankfully for me, he was a strong rider. We took 30-60 seconds pulls and worked well together right up until the time I was ready to blow chunks and collapse beside the road. Nonetheless, we upheld our honor and made it to the intersection with Medical Lake Road ahead of everyone else. So, honor fulfilled, legs completely depleted. No problem except the 20 miles to get home.

At this point, the group agreed to make its way to Medical Lake, where the hearty souls looking for a longer ride would go one way and the rest of us would head home. Rider 1 and 2 took the "hearty souls" option. I took the "head home" option.

As one exits Medical Lake, you go down a small hill and head into an exposed area, which today, had a reasonable head wind. One member of the group, who shall remain nameless, decided that after sitting in the group the whole day, this was the time to prove his manhood and he went full gas down the hill and charging into the plains. Decision time for most of the group; dig deep and grab a wheel or let go. I drifted back to find a suitable wheel, held on a for a bit and saw our group of 12-14 strung out over a distance. Instead of being a "group", we were suddenly clumps of 2-3 with small gaps between. I looked back and saw someone trailing off quickly and realized that I hadn't seen a couple of riders I was sure were in the "head home" group. I assumed that the group would see the wisdom of finishing the ride together and would wait up the road a bit, so I dropped off the back to pick up one rider and wait for the other two.

After soft pedalling with one rider for a few minutes, I realized that I was mistaken about the other two being behind or that they had gone another direction. So the two of us picked up the pace so the rest of our group wouldn't have to wait too long. I shouldn't have worried about the rest of the group, since, as it turns out, they certainly weren't worried about us.

As a result, my companion and I never saw the group again and we turned into our own small Ride of the Damned. It turns out, though, that my companion was Damned not just by the wind and softening legs, but also by the Man with the Hammer. The Man with the Hammer is a French phrase for "bonking", not to be confused with the French pastime "boinking". For the one reader hereof who may not be familiar with the term "bonking" (Hi Mom!), it technically means that you have depleted your muscle glycogen. Non-technically it means the tank is empty. You feel as if you can't turn the pedals and sitting by the road is the only reasonable alternative.

With a promise that the ride was "mostly downhill", I promised this rider that if we could make it to my house I would give him transportation to his home, which effectively cut about ten miles out of his return journey. He motored on to the best of his ability, but it was diminishing ability. Having been in that spot I was as sympathetic as I could be, but there is no other way to do it but just pedal along as well as you can. We had the misfortune of adding a rain to the final 20 minutes of our ride, but salvation finally came for the Damned in the form of escape from the elements, a warm home, some food and drink, and motor transportation home.

It reminds me of another ride, from Hope to Despair, but that is a story for another day.
Rider Three

Part Two, Sunday's Ride of the Damned, tomorrow.