Braggy Blogger

As of today, I've ridden my bicycle over 500 miles in the last 8 weeks. For some cyclists, that wouldn't be much of a milestone. For me, it's pretty darn cool. I've noticed that the same hills whose slopes used to make me want to vomit, fall over, and cry (Beacon Hill, Jackson, MLK, I'm looking at you) aren't the obstacles they used to be.

In fact, these days I tend to prefer riding up over Beacon Hill to travel to and from work: the streets are wider, and the views are enough to make me forget all about my sweat and toil. Every time I cross the Jose Rizal Bridge and see downtown spread out below me, Elliott Bay and the Olympics in the distance, or cruise south down the Chief Sealth Trail and gawk at the panorama of Mount Rainier and Lake Washington, I fall in love with Seattle a little bit more.

(The steep streets behind Interlaken Park, among others, continue to make me want to vomit, fall over, and cry, so I still have plenty of room for improvement.)

November ride!

I rode my bike to work this morning for the first time since early October. It turns out that riding 8 miles on a chilly, foggy morning is in some ways much more pleasant than making the same trip in warmer weather.

With both lanes open on MLK finally (for all but a couple of short segments), I made it to work in about 40 minutes. I think I improved my time by crossing over to 23rd at the top of the hill instead of continuing down MLK into the Madison Valley. The latter route takes me down too far, and I then have to climb back uphill just before work. It's not much uphill, but it's enough to get me all out of breath again. By sneaking over to 23rd via side streets atop the hill, and then whizzing down 23rd, I don't have to climb at all after Cherry. I do, however, have to clutch fervently at the brakes all the way down the other side of the hill.

What Thel Saw

On Cloverdale
A brown-and-white pit bull is resting halfway out of an open second-story window, his front legs casually crossed, looking contemplatively out at the street like a jowly middle-aged man planning his escape.

On Lake Washington Boulevard
There is a woman wearing a yellow jacket and black shorts, her curly grey hair flowing in the breeze, who rides her bicycle every morning along Lake Washington Boulevard. She rides south in the mornings and north in the evenings, so we cross paths with a nod on the days that I ride. She, however, rides every single day. I have seen her every morning from my car for the past three or four months, rain or shine. Usually in the mornings when I drive our paths cross just at the top of the Seward Park hill--the same hill I had to get off and walk up the first time I encountered it. She crests it smoothly, seated, her legs moving sedately. When I ride my bike I am on the road much earlier, and our paths cross up north of I-90. She rides with just as much easy grace on the flatter road there--not for her the hunched-over grimace and the racing whirl. She gives me a slow nod without losing cadence, and I feel like I've crossed paths with a queen.

The best thing Thel saw
Coming up away from the lake near the end of my ride, the road climbs through a series of S-curves. Non-athlete that I am, I always slow down to become the pokiest little puppy imaginable up that hill. This morning just where the slope begins, a bad-ass man came whizzing up past me, clad in black and blue spandex. Perched high up on his back was a wee pink backpack sporting the Dora the Explorer logo. I only had a few moments to take it in before he was gone around the corner, far fitter and faster than I. And although you didn't bother calling "on your left" as all the polite bicyclists do, I salute you, swift athletic Dora-loving man.

Pedal to the Metal

I'm on track to ride 3 days this week--more days than driving! And heaven knows I must ride on Friday, the actual Bike to Work Day!

In response to comments on the last post (comments!) I'm still pondering the car sale. I've spent so many years struggling with a credit card debtload...it would be ever so lovely to get out from under it all at once. I do hesitate because, well, yeah...riding my bike to work for a week in lovely May weather, when the sun is up before 6:00 a.m. and the birds sing as the wispy mist on the lake melts away, is a far cry from riding to work and back in the dark and rain and mud and puddles of December. I know my willpower will quail before such a prospect.

BUT. Luckily for me, I happen to live one block from the bus line that takes me directly to work with no transfers. It's a poky sort of route right now, especially with MLK down to one lane each way for the light rail construction, but it still only takes about an hour--about the same amount of time as riding to work, actually. So if I did sell the car and end up desperate for warm transport to work of a freezing winter morn, I would have a pretty easy alternative. This makes the idea of going carless easier to swallow.

I'm so glad you guys commented...what else am I missing? I want to run this past as many skeptics as possible! Lord knows I already know what the folks at the Cascade Bicycle Club forums would say, so this is far better critique of the proposal.

There can only be one

I'm not a very hard-core "Bike to Work Month" participant, but I've done it 3 out of 9 days now. And I no longer have to get off and walk that last little bit up the hill past Seward Park, either: on Wednesday I (ever so slowly) pedalled all the way up it without a pause.

Riding my bicycle to work is a joy in part because my brain has hard-wired a connection between "experience of being on a bike" and "experience of being on vacation." As a kid in the sticks we rode our bikes a lot all summer long. And every time we went camping for a weekend, which also happened frequently in the summer, we loaded up the bikes and took them with us. So now when I hop on a bicycle my brain says, "Ah, sweet, we're on vacation," even if my body is actually taking us to work (haha brain, PSYCH!!).

It is also a joy because it feels like cheating to transport myself for free. Like giving a finger to "the man." The oil-selling man, anyway.

Which brings me to say...I'm thinking about selling my car. Mr. Thel has recently replaced his shiny car with an oldish truck for work, and yet I am pondering the plunge to becoming a one-vehicle household. If I can ride my bike to work the majority of the time...first of all, I'll be healthier and perhaps lighter in due time. Selling the car would allow me to pay off all my debts that aren't related to my house and my education, and THAT, my friends, would be a load off my mind. In addition to letting me pay off those debts, it would save me at least $300 a month in vehicle expenses. It would be better for the world in terms of reducing my carbon footprint, naturally.

It's a lifestyle change, for sure, but I can't stop thinking about it longingly. It feels liberating. We'd still have a vehicle capable of carrying us all in case of emergency or camping or whatever, so why not stick with just one?

I'll keep you posted. We'll see if I can actually get to the point of bicycle commuting every day for a solid week, at least, and then...

From the department of "funny because it's true"

What the yeti said:

By the time I arrive at the office, my body is flooded with my three favorite substances: adrenaline, endorphins, and self-righteousness.

It's "Bike to Work Month," and I cautiously joined the wee team at work. You have to ride at least five times during the month, so I figured it would be a good way to start getting into the habit again. I rode to work some last summer, but the ride was only half as long...so I needed to convince myself that I could make a ten-mile ride to work in the morning.

Well, I can. Turns out that ride earlier this year wasn't just a fluke achievement. And it's nice: I get in an hour of exercise (yes, I am rather slow), and rather than still needing to get ready and go to work, bam! I'm already there. I do still shower when I get there, because nobody likes to stew in their own sweat and stink all day. And I'm pretty sure nobody in this small office would like to smell me stewing in my own sweat all day, either.