Group Ride, Alright

When I first got into cycling my lovely little bike shop helped me out a lot. They put on an inexpensive front brake when I discovered that it does actually take a little practice to safely ride a fixed gear without brakes (I think it was the scare of trying to control my speed downhill that really did it) and they've dispensed endless useful knowledge and help to yours truly.

They also have a weekly group bike ride on the weekends made up of friendly and staunchly non- douchy competitive people from the area. I've met a lot of cool peeps from those bike rides and for a time I went weekly like clockwork, until a new job required me to work on Saturday and I couldn't go for over a year. Recent unemployment has cured that though, and although it took me almost two months to go on another one (infants take a lot of time out of your life, who knew!) today I got to suit up and join the ranks once again.

Somewhat counter intuitively it would seem that having no job would make it easy to get more riding in, but sadly this was not so. In the last two months I've only ridden twice and my expanding midsection and shrinking legs were definitely in mind when I rode out to join a group of men and women with very nice bikes with lots of gears. I knew I wouldn't get dropped but no one wants to be the slow poke (except in certain situations, right ladies? Right, right?) so I was determined to keep up even if it was pathetically difficult.

As I approached the shop the group was already assembled: about eight men and women covered head to toe in cold weather gear with only faces peaking out from hats and balaclavas. At first no one recognized me until I unmasked to adjust my flowing locks and then the regulars all came over to say hi. It was nice. People bitched about the cold and soon we were off on a thrity-plus mile bike ride through the surrounding neighborhoods. The No Drop rule is particularly useful to me as our routes wind through many neighborhoods and I'd get lost in a heartbeat and have no fun making my way back home alone.

Happily my legs remembered their previous life and performed admirably. My lungs, not so much. Also my sitting bones, despite the use of a technical liner. I'd say my booty's performance degraded the most over my two months of full time fatherin' which was both surprising and a little uncomfortable. With temperatures in the mid-thirties to low-forties I was glad I had multiple layers and a full head covering, and as we got moving I quickly warmed up. We had two "climbs" which in my area of Virgina always means a bridge or an overpass and I took the opportunity to break ranks and climb my little heart out. It was lovely.

With ten miles left to go we stopped at a coffee joint to rest and drink up. In a move that I'm sure sport nutritionists would flinch at I put a double espresso into my empty stomach instead of water or anything really useful. What can I say, I like coffee. The standard complaints were heard again as we had to warm back up and one good climb later I was experiencing a slight metallic taste from my lungs as they worked out all the sediment my sedentary lifestyle has deposited there.

Back at the shop I BSed with an old friend I hadn't seen a while and then headed home to a waiting baby and tired lady. No soreness yet, just a lingering smile and the wish to do it again. I really need to do this more often. I missed it.

- David

Oh Thank Heaven, 7-11

I like to race. I'm not a competitive person in 99% of my life, but when it comes to bike racing I like to do well. Or at least feel I've done well. If I'm exhausted that night or sore the next day, that's enough for me, placing be damned. I guess you'd call it more of a personal challenge thing than a public opinion thing.

In my little community someone puts on an alleycat about once a month. Usually it's the same four people rotating organically and getting word out by Twitter or e-mail and the same ten or so people show up for every race. Numbers dwindle as the weather turns cold but you can count on the same peeps to put out (hurr) and participate in races on a pretty regular basis. This past month I put on my very first one (which sadly only six people showed up for, despite my early announcement and copious flier placement) and I got a good view behind the scenes and plan to contribute regularly. It was a different kind of fun but fun all the same.

Yesterday a pillar of the cycling community and good guy Wes put on a Recycled 7-11 race which had us broken up into two-man teams and visiting "recycled" 7-11's in the area to gather trivia as well as receipts from current ones. Wes' races are always well thought out and have a certain style to them. Namely teams instead of individual riders and usually some kind of community service like cleaning up glass or food drives. My very first alleycat was one of his, gathering certain food items from grocery stores and piling all of our goods into his bike trailer bound for a local church on Thanksgiving, which was a ton of fun.

That being said I don't usually come out for his events. The team thing has never worked out well for me and usually the actions to be completed at each checkpoint are kind of annoying. Not that cleaning up glass isn't fun and all, but when you have to get there with another person and have them take a picture of you doing so with a prominent landmark in the background to validate it just seems like too much. I've done a race where we had to change a tire, drink a beer, and ride an impossibly small and small-geared seatless child's bike down a bike path and back, but those all seem a little different to me.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when Wes announced we'd be splitting up into teams as eleven or so riders hung out in the parking lot of the gas station and awaited spoke cards and instructions. I had already asked my friend Kurtz to partner up when I heard that we'd be on random teams based on the pairing of spoke cards. Balls. Oh well, most of the guys I knew pretty well and our riding abilities were about even. I'm also still learning some of the finer details of our fair city and always welcome a more experienced guide.

As luck would have it though I got paired with a guy who'd just moved here from Albany, New York. He had no knowledge of Norfolk. I'd been looking his bike over (as all riders do almost subconsciously; see above picture, far left) and gauged from the well-worn appearance and brakelessness that he was probably a decent rider. Oh how wrong I was.

The map we were handed had eleven 7-11's marked both nearby and in some far reaches of Norfolk I've never been to before. We were to choose seven of the eleven to hit, with the farthest four being "premiums" which subtracted from our overall time if we hit them. Three of the seven I deemed my little team should hit were within the scope of my riding familiarity. No matter, they were marked on our maps and I had luckily brought a detailed map of the city with me on a whim. I was sure we'd be fine.

The first of seven was just off of my normal commuting route and started a nice crescent that would hit all of the necessary checkpoints and bring us back nicely to the finish. Before my partner and I had even gone two miles I knew I was in trouble. Even in my small pond I'm no Eddy Merckx but I can hold my own. With maybe a quarter mile under our tires I looked back to see he was at least two blocks behind. "Maybe he got caught behind a car or something," I thought and slowed my pace a little. As I waited at a busy intersection for the light to change (very un-hardcore of me, I know) my other half caught up with me. I explained our route and he replied that he heard the area up ahead was a little dicey. I laughed and said, "Not really." We were on Colley Ave which was a relatively quiet and straight shot up to Hampton Blvd which was right near where we needed to go and had both been traveled countless times by yours truly as part of his daily commute. Even keeping a modest cadence with a tailwind my team member fell farther and farther behind, many times to the point of being out of site. Oh, he also didn't have a headlight.

I slowed my pace even more but it was no use. I couldn't leave an out of towner behind this early in the race; that'd be pretty dickish of me. But this was a race, and I wanted to do well. Plus, riding in general and races in particular provide a kind of catharsis where the stress and stiffness from being a new parent and living in an imperfect world can get worked out constructively. I didn't want to waste it.

Things degraded from here. The map we had been so helpfully handed wasn't that helpful at all. The majority of the placemarks on the map were not necessarily tied to their geographic locations. Even the intersections given under each checkpoint turned out to be wrong at least 50% of the time. Add in an unfamiliarity with the area, very busy streets, darkness, neighborhoods that I wouldn't be comfortable walking through alone, and a slow partner and I was getting frustrated. More than once we were unable to locate the recycled 7-11 and opted to head to the next one when we'd come upon it blocks away from where it was said to be. We didn't even find the last one. About halfway through I remarked that it appeared Wes was trying to get us shot.

Locative problems wouldn't have been so bad had I been able to hurriedly search around. But this was not so. As the night dragged my random companion drew out the distance between us more and more. Once I even looked back to see him sitting up in his seat, hands off the bars, in the middle of the lane, apparently more interested in balancing than in keeping up. At one 7-11 we were unable to find a stray receipt so he went in to buy a candy bar and after standing in line came out and said through chocolate teeth that he'd forgotten to get the receipt. I know these things are supposed to be fun, but fun means different things to different people. For me it's finishing a race in under three hours, which we almost didn't do.

Back in familiar territory I lead us confidently to the finish only to find my partner was nowhere in site. I stopped at the next intersection and waited. And waited. Finally I opted to leave him to his devices and his own map and sped towards the last and largest 7-11, taking a fast road in the hopes of at least getting some exertion out of the night.

By the time I pulled in all the other riders were standing around, jackets on as they had already cooled down from their own riding and enjoying beers and BS. Someone asked where my guy was. I told them I didn't know. They laughed and remarked that it was the guy who just moved here. I related how I'd lost him about five minutes ago and he should be able to follow his map here. Times were tallied and the only guy who'd been a solo act came in first by far. I envied his unhindered situation. Your humble writer was dead, dead last. We had started at 7:11 and I had rejoined our group at 9:31. Longest race ever, both factually and emotionally.

As we were taking pictures under the glare of the gas pump overhang Mr. Buffalo, NY skidded up behind us and everyone cheered. Pictures were taken, people were invited to other people's houses for drinks and movies, and all riders now jacketed and gloved in the cold night departed. I felt like a guy on a date who's sexual exploits seemed assured but had just dropped his lady off after some light kissing and hand holding.

But hey, at least I went. It was far more preferable than being home and only placing exertion on myself, if you catch my drift.

- David

GUILTY!

About a year and a half ago, I reported on an incident in LA that has now become the rallying cry for holding violent drivers accountable for endangering cyclists. Today, we find that the defendant, 60 year old ER doctor Christopher Thompson has been found guilty on all counts. For better coverage, check out the VeloNews reports.

It's a relief to see at least one case where the obvious offender has to pay for their actions despite having the best legal representation money can buy. I will say that the defense argument was stupid, basically saying Thompson was pulling over to take a photo of these belligerent cyclists, and that they crashed due to the "inherent instability of the bicycle". You couldn't find two more sympathetic plaintiffs, Ron Peterson was a cycling coach at USC and UCLA and a racer, and Christian Stoehr was a very experienced racer. They had corroborating witnesses and a police report from two other cyclists of a prior incident with the same car.

My hope going forward is that incidents of road aggression don't require as compelling a body of evidence in order to hold violent drivers accountable. We all know most incidents don't leave as much evidence in their wake, but are no less dangerous.

Safe riding out there.

To the BikeStation!

This past Friday, DC had a grand opening for BikeStation, something I've been looking forward to for a while. This has been a dream of transportation planners and cyclists here since the late 1990s, and has been under serious planning and subsequent construction since 2005. One part of the story I know about is that DC used Denver's bike station feasibility study as part of their justification for citing it at the main train station. But the joke is on Denver, while RTD paid for a study that clearly made a favorable impression on some, the actual station(s) at Denver Union Station have been on the skids for years.

I was planning to go over in the afternoon to check it out and collect the mandatory schwag (in this case, a metal water bottle), but I found out there was to be a ribbon cutting at 10:30 with all the planning and bicycling professionals sure to be in attendance. I also happened to have my co-worker Lilly's SmartBike card from the day before (farmer's market run, those bikes have baskets), and I thought it would be a sad day if I couldn't drag one of my co-workers along for the hullaballoo. With about 10 minutes to get there, I ended up heading out with my colleague Nish, and taking him on his first SmartBike ride.

After a brisk three miles of bobbing and weaving through traffic, we got to Union Station later than the appointed time, but found out that it was all waiting on Mayor Fenty's arrival. He got there a few minutes later, and they set up a podium for speeches. Here is the mayor with DDOT director Gabe Klein and (bike-riding) Councilman Tommy Wells behind him:

The actual bike station is pretty slick. The exterior is supposed to evoke a bike helmet, but is pretty rad any way you cut it. A local rental fleet operator, Bike and Roll has a shop on one side where they sell the small necessities and have a repair stand. The majority of the station is racks, which ingeniously trap your bike when you roll it in. The whole thing is operated by a group called "BikeStation", and they do all the membership things. $150 a year gets you 24 hour access, but anyone can purchase shorter term usage and have supervised access from 7 AM to 7 PM.

Because of where I live, I doubt I'll be using it unless I take a train ride to NYC or something, but BikeStation is going to be great for a lot of train commuters coming in daily from outside of DC. I think they mentioned that out of the 260 potential memberships they can sell, they already sold 70 of them so far, and the place just opened. Apparently, DC also has the 7th most bike commuters per capita in the country, and second most on the East Coast. This all bodes well for a variety of other bike initiatives, including expanding Smart Bike.

So basically, a day of warm fuzzies for us bike commuters. One other good thing came out of it, after a return trip to work by bike with Nish (which I later overheard him describing "... Will is a maniac."), Nish has become impressed with, and decided to join SmartBike ($35 a year). Good on you, mate.

Overflowing With Bikes

I just moved in to Karen's apartment on Saturday on account of us getting married this coming weekend, and it forced me to collect all my bikes and bike stuff from the basement where they had been living, and put them all in one place. I am now confronted with their multitude.

I have seven at present, a single speed, a tandem, a cyclocross racer, a steel road bike, an aluminum road bike, a steel mountain bike, and an aluminum/carbon mountain bike. It's kind of a lot. I have had plans to sell the CX bike and the AL/C MTB, but wedding planning and having a blast got the better of my summer. I think five will be a reasonable number to have and maintain, especially since I have been known to race in four disciplines, it seems to be the smallest number I should have to keep my options open.

To get a few other things off my mind, Kanye, though a total inappropriate jerk, was right. Beyonce's video was way better than Taylor Swift's. But that's what MTV gets for cultivating an audience of tasteless children while alienating all of us who once upon a time thought we might see a music video by tuning into Music Television. Seriously, do they show anything besides Twilight previews and horrid retreads of old reality shows? Beyonce's video is a minimalist display of ingenious lighting and choreography, not easily appreciated by young minds lacking a full catalogue of videos in their brain against which to compare.

Taylor Swift's video, by contrast is a saccharine sweet ode to the old tale of the ugly duckling set against the backdrop of a high school football / suburban drama. If I were a 14 year old girl, I would pick this video. However, as someone who spent thousands of daytime hours in the Las Vegas summer cowering inside from the searing heat under the cool electric glow of MTV's video broadcasts, I have the experience to know better. See for yourself, and let me know if you agree.

And you thought this blog was just about biking... it also covers important social phenomenon.

PS: I may be biased against any media that maligns the talent and efforts of cheerleaders. My sister was a highly accomplished "flyer" on her cheer squad in high school and in college (Go App State!), was recognized repeatedly for her talent and dedication, and incurred a variety of serious injuries in a testament to her daring fearlessness. Portraying them as the villainous airhead in a childish music video does a disservice to the thousands of cheerleaders who compete in this full contact, spectacular sport.

Third Party Report: Brendan, Nick and Will Are Bad For Surly Bikes

Or at least that is what it seems like. Here's what I know from chat/email exchanges with Nick N. and Brendan:

Brendan: crashed into a car in an alley behind work on his Cross Check, apparently unharmed, but having buckled his downtube and putting large dents into the car.

Nick: got crashed into by a car and took a ride on the hood for a few feet before the lady driving decided to stop, also apparently unharmed. I don't know what happened to his bike, but conspicuously, it is a Karate Monkey.

Both incidents occurred on the same day, and taken together with my recent crash, I think we are blowing through mere anecdote, and now represent a growing epidemic.

I'll let Nick and Brendan describe the incidents in more depth (seriously, post something already).

This is in no way a slight on Surly bikes, which are quite popular among urban cyclists, and I have found to be quite utilitarian.

The Sunshine of Rain City

Whoever said Portland was rainy was full of it

One of the cool aspects of my job is traveling around and organizing work in the transportation world. This week, I'm in the Pacific Northwest (in this order: Eugene, Portland, Seattle), and lucked out with the best weather I could have imagined. It's been in the high nineties, and dry, which is a real treat compared to the high humidity heat of DC and all of the East Coast.

I got to Eugene via AmTrak at about 6:00 on Tuesday, and the folks I was meeting were kind enough to plan out a tour with the best Eugene had to offer. We started out from the train station by bike, I had a loaner Bike Friday Tikit (Made in Eugene!) in the hot pink colorway (I've always said it takes a real man to rock a pink bike). We first rode over to the new Eugene Bus Rapid Transit (the EmX) station, and met up with Mark, the general manager of the Lane Transit District for a tour. We got a special dispensation from Mark to bring onboard more than 3 bikes (normally the limit), and we were able to fold up the Bike Fridays and put them under the seats. The EmX is awesome, and the system really feels more like a light rail train than a bus (it has its own signals and some dedicated right-of-way), and connects downtown Eugene to nearby Springfield.





Our Guide Mark and the view from the pilot's seat



The hot pink one is mine, I regret not doing a proper portrait with it


The EMX


Lane Transit District loves bikes

Our return trip was via the bike path network adjacent to the Willamette river, which is as wide as a two lane road in many parts, and was just super under blue skies. The Friday rode well, especially for a bike that was just under a bus seat. We crossed back into Eugene at the Peter DeFazio bicycle and pedestrian bridge, which was pretty cool to see (he's the subcommittee chairman with the most responsibility for producing the upcoming transportation bill).

We had dinner at the Steelhead Brewpub, and a couple of people asked about the Bike Fridays leaned against the wall next to us. The ladies really liked the pink model I was borrowing, so if you need a good present idea for a wife, girlfriend or other special lady in your life, a pink Tikit has good WOW potential.

The next morning I was off to Portland via the 5:30 AM train (remarkably, it was on time the whole way). This was my first time to Portland, and I anxiously awaited arrival in bike city, USA.

Very quickly it was obvious, these people love the hell out of bicycling. At each traffic light, the bike lane (yes, they had them everywhere) backed up with about 10 cyclists every time. I also admired the general law abiding tendencies of Portland cyclists, there wasn't nearly the amount of red light running I've become accustomed to in DC. I was able to rent a bike for the day at the Safe Routes to School conference, and I got to all my meetings with no trouble. One myth that I can dispel about at least the downtown, it's not that hilly, and I also didn't see any rain whatsoever.


Portland's light rail has a special space for bikes

What I did see plenty of were groups of the young, disaffected street kids that are known throughout the Pacific Northwest. Dirty, hairy, and often traveling with one or more dogs, they seem to be an able bodied bunch that chooses street life for something like the adventure of it. If you've seen "My Own Private Idaho", imagine that in the summer. The region's congressman, Earl Blumenauer mentions the number of unemployed people who move to Portland for the quality of life, I think this too extends to the homeless who can ride transit in the downtown loop for free, and get by through begging and the other downtown social services available.

After finishing my meetings for the day, I thought I would ride over to the Columbia river. This was not a realistic idea, I discovered, after I went about 8 miles into the Port of Portland on the frontage road with only more working port infrastructure as far as I could see. The Willamette and the Columbia meet somewhere around there, but I definitely didn't go the right direction to see it (and I later realized that I had been given an area bicycling map at an earlier meeting that I just threw in my bag with all the other handouts I had).


My rental


I was tempted to keep going on a Goonies rally

There was one last landmark I had to see before I left, Burnside Skate park. It was smaller than I imagined, but the concrete glowed in the streetlights with a burnish earned by a million skate wheels. I rode back over the bridge, and had a rad view of the "Made in Oregon" neon sign.

I came away from both Eugene and Portland with a strong sense of envy for what they've accomplished in a short time, and for the political and community will that made it happen.

A New Bike for the Bicycling Professional

Earlier this summer, I decided I was going to cull my herd of bicycles from eight down to a more reasonable five. Of course, I have eight bikes because they all do something a little different. Since I would still want to do all these cycling disciplines at different times, I thought I'd look for a bike that has some additional built in flexibility and sell of the three that I thought would be easiest to part with.

Not having any discipline when it comes to bike acquisitions, I decided to buy a Surly Traveler's Check that I saw on ebay in just my size.



I've been a big fan of Surly for years, and I thought this would cover a few tasks I perform routinely. 1) commuting to work 2) riding trails with the simple addition of CX tires 3) single speed CX races that I tell myself I will participate in someday 4) accompanying me on business trips (it comes apart at the top and downtubes and fits in a suitcase) 5) replaces the fixie I sold when I moved to DC.

So far, I've been pretty impressed with its commuting, trail and fixie qualities. I may have forgotten to consider one aspect of travel, the $450 suitcase accessory that I don't have (anyone have one they no longer need?), but I think this will come in handy soon.

I was just getting used to the new bike about three weeks ago when I had my first disappointment with the way it was rigged. It had a matching blue KMC chain, which I now know only come in 1/8th width. Meanwhile, it has a bigger 46T 3/32nd chainring, and a 3/32nd 17T freewheel. Previously, I had understood 1/8th to be compatible with the narrower teeth with no issues on a single speed or fixed gear. I know better now, and thought I would share.

Whilst climbing a hill on my way home from work, I was about five pedal strokes into standing up when I threw the chain and myself hard to the right and onto the pavement near the National Zoo. What I think happened was that the lateral deflection from the high torque (climbing, remember) on the 46T ring was enough to pull the small amount of sideways play of the 1/8th chain to opposite sides on the 3/32nd freewheel and ring. The chain must have slipped over one of the ring's teeth, and after that, my foot hammered down to the right with no resistance on the chain, tossing me to the street.

I was a little bloody from a hip scrape and smashing my normal landing elbow yet again. A kind passerby with a medical kit in their car helped me with some gauze. Even though I managed to kick my bike the other direction into a lane of traffic, it somehow didn't get hit. I was on my feet to retrieve it in seconds, and aside from a scuffed seat, some scrapes on the brake levers and bell and a mangled Oury, it was no worse for the tangle.

I have since changed the chain to 3/32nd, and pulled it piano-wire tight, to avoid any repeat episodes. Also switched to narrower bull horn bars for more confidence while lane splitting.

But not to be dismayed, the great bike cull of 2009 still continues!

The first bike I sold off was my Trek 520, which was a great ride, just one that I never used for any actual touring. It cleaned up real nice, and while I kept the wheels (a Christmas present), I was able to sell the frame for more than I bought the whole bike for about a year ago, how's that for an investment! One thing that never was right on it, it was built for 27" wheels, and I could never adjust the cantilever brakes to have satisfying stopping power on a 700c wheel, I tried every kind of canti brake they make, but the position of the boss is too high for what I wanted to get out of it. So off it went.




















Since then, I've been trying to do the Craigslist thing with this animal:



But Craigslist is the place for $300 bikes, not $1000 bikes,and I'm running into a lot of flakes and barter offers, so next stop is ebay.

If anyone has a penchant for cross country mountain bikes, and would like to be this one's new owner, shoot me a message and I'll send you some info.

So there it is, apologies for not posting for some time. I'm getting married in September, and while I bike commute every day still, I rarely seem to have time to write about it. Hope to see some more action here soon, we didn't even get a RAGBRAI rundown... Josh, are you out there?

Triumphant Return

Recent life changes *coughcough*new parent!*cough* have seen me and my bike neglected for the better part of a month. It's been bad. No sleep, no exercise, no playing in traffic. Driving to work everyday sucks. I don't know how people do it. But this week has seen a dramatic increase in bikely activities, and I intend to ride the momentum until I'm back to my former level.

On Sunday a couple of buddies showed up at my back porch and yelled, "Grab your bike!" They were figuring out checkpoints for our upcoming Tour de Pants race and wanted me to come along. I rushed out the door, no wallet, no lock, no helmet (ssh) and pedaled around Norfolk for a few hours. It was wonderful. The weather was warm, there was a good breeze, and we were riding just to ride. Four people seems to be about the perfect group size to bike randomly from one place to the next. We picked several public locations in which to stop and change pants before moving on to the next. I'm looking forward to this Sunday and having lots of pantless fun.

At one point we came up to a railroad crossing right as a train approached. Suddenly my friend took off down the gravel path next to the tracks and we all followed, three track bikes and one mountain bike. I'm always paranoid when I'm riding over things like sand, gravel, and cobblestones that my tiny wheels are just going to slip out from under me. But (knock on Phil Wood) that hasn't happened yet. What did happen though was some of the palm-sized rocks conspired to tear a big ass gash in the sidewall of my front tire, causing an instant flat. A flat we fixed before realizing it was a hole in the sidewall, through which the new tube promptly bubbled out of and popped again. Hooray. While two of us tag-teamed the problem the rest occupied themselves by throwing rocks at an old building across the tracks.

The problem was resolved with a Gerber (which we dubbed The Pleatherman), an old military supply membership card, some electrical tape, and lots of hand pumping motions that prompted obvious jokes. Thus fixed I rode around for another hour or more without any trouble, and even when I checked the tire again four days later it had held it's air just fine. As we saddled up someone remarked that little adventures like this on a bike were fun, even if was just fixing a flat by the train tracks for thirty minutes.

Then yesterday I was interviewed by a fellow cyclist for almost two hours about how and why I got into cycling in general and the community events like alleycats and Critical Mass. I got to ride my beloved ferry to get to the interview and showed up early enough to play in the streets for twenty minutes beforehand. Talking to another cyclist about angry drivers, garbage bag raingear, finding commute routes, getting doored, and any number of tangents was super fun. His digital recorder actually died before we got finished. It felt a bit like a blind date meeting a stranger to sit down and talk but my nervousness went right away and I'm sure he wished I wasn't quite so forthcoming with all of my thoughts and stories!

I'm getting used to my new sleep schedule and looking forward to hitting the roads again. As our new little addition gets familiar with being born and cries less I'll be more apt to go out and race, joing CM, and maybe even go for a solo ride or two. And it can't come soon enough.

- David

It's time to get psyched for RAGBRAI

RAGBRAI starts on Sunday. It's time to get psyched, folks. We have assembled a small, ragtag gang to take part in the festivities. Actually from Denver, it's just me, Nick and Emily - but we will be joining upwards of 20,000 of our closest cycling friends in Iowa.

Here are some pics from previous years....

The bikes seem to go on forever.

Unfortunately, no Lance frenzy this year.


Here is Denver's own Emily Latta (St. Mark's coffee Barista extraordinaire) featured on the RAGBRAI site.

How to break in a Brooks saddle

It's happened. And, I can't be more excited. My Brooks saddle is finally broken in. How did I do it? I rode it for 10 months, 3 weeks and 5 days. I'm not sure if this is a normal time period - but the honey-colored leather definitely took longer to break in than my black leather one.

It was definitely a watershed moment for me.

Great Things About Riding in DC: Fireflies

One of the charming aspects about summer riding in DC, and probably throughout the East Coast, is firefly season.  Lasting from roughly late May through mid July, many species of firefly larvae gestate into their adult form for what appears to be a mass firefly rave.  After two years of pupal squirming, the fireflies look to their remaining two weeks of life as their one and only chance to mate, and lay some eggs.  

To the casual human observer, this all means pretty blinking ethereal lights between dusk and dawn.

Having spent the past decade predominantly in the Western U.S., I was cheerfully reminded of nature's light show a few weeks ago while riding home.  Hovering before me on my night ride through Rock Creek Park were thousands of fireflies, creating a slightly psychedelic sensation as I rode down the narrow forested path.  It is somehow comforting to see these little flashes of brilliant light amidst the canopied darkness.

Their numbers seem to be slowly dwindling, perhaps they will follow the diminishing daylight as harbingers of fall.  I hope they stick around a little while longer.  And I hope that you, dear reader, are so lucky to see them illuminating your way on a night ride sometime soon.

Credit to this New York Times article for reminding me of the uniqueness of this wonder of nature.