The past week was a good one for bike commuting. Despite some misting rain, I managed to ride to & from work several times. The most aggravating part of commuting is when we're riding on the multi-use path along everyone's favorite: Late Otis Parkway.
Several schools line the route and one evening riding home with Jon we noticed cars leaving one of the parking lots. We slowed and watched, looking for that moment of recognition. The first car slowed and pulled across the path and into the street without a glance. Right behind it, another. Then we were at the intersection.
The next car's driver rolled right into the pathway intersection and I pulled in front of her, swerving close to the street (not a smart move, I admit). Jon, on the other hand, aimed for the driver's door and stopped just short of hitting it - an intentional move designed to get the attention of a driver who is being... well... inattentive.
Cars began to stack up behind her as she powered down her window and said to Jon: "I know, I know."
Yep. They all know it's not good to hit a cyclist. It's not good to drive through an intersection without stopping and looking both ways. It's not even legal!
I was lucky all I got was a hit of adrenaline for my move. I've had a few close calls but I'm usually Little Miss Safety First. I promise from here on out to be even more careful. And I wish all the people one my route would promise that as well.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
29er
Yesterday I hopped on the ol' 29er for the first time in awhile. I had an appointment in midtown before work & didn't want to ride my full-susp. bike. Nor did I want to lock my road bike outside the building. So, I pumped up the tires, wiped the chain and headed out.
I forgot how much fun it is to ride it - it being a Gary Fisher X-Caliber. The tires whirred on the pavement as I made my way along the path in the mid-morning. The sun was just starting to heat the air and the grass was wet with dew and maybe even frost from the night. September morning; about 40 degrees.
Riding home was even more fun. The bike responded positively when I stood to climb, racing the sun's descent. Jon was on his road bike but kept his pace to mine so we could enjoy the ride home together. Just a little Termination Dust (first snow on the mountains) on a few of the peaks. The birches turned yellow almost overnight.
This time of year we ride when the riding is good & sometimes when it isn't. Despite satellite weather reporting, I'm not sure if it will rain tomorrow or be clear and sunny. Today, it's been raining and the wind is picking up, blowing the leaves from the trees in the front yard. It's the season of homemade soup, fresh-baked cookies, fenders and rain gear. It also looks like a good time to book a ticket to somewhere sunny. Eventually.
Tomorrow I have to go to work a bit early - if the rain keeps up, it'll be another 29er day for me. I guess I should thank the rain for that.
I forgot how much fun it is to ride it - it being a Gary Fisher X-Caliber. The tires whirred on the pavement as I made my way along the path in the mid-morning. The sun was just starting to heat the air and the grass was wet with dew and maybe even frost from the night. September morning; about 40 degrees.
Riding home was even more fun. The bike responded positively when I stood to climb, racing the sun's descent. Jon was on his road bike but kept his pace to mine so we could enjoy the ride home together. Just a little Termination Dust (first snow on the mountains) on a few of the peaks. The birches turned yellow almost overnight.
This time of year we ride when the riding is good & sometimes when it isn't. Despite satellite weather reporting, I'm not sure if it will rain tomorrow or be clear and sunny. Today, it's been raining and the wind is picking up, blowing the leaves from the trees in the front yard. It's the season of homemade soup, fresh-baked cookies, fenders and rain gear. It also looks like a good time to book a ticket to somewhere sunny. Eventually.
Tomorrow I have to go to work a bit early - if the rain keeps up, it'll be another 29er day for me. I guess I should thank the rain for that.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Eklutna rain ride
It's not so tough riding in the rain if you know you're heading someplace warm and dry. So I ventured out with my friends on the Eklutna Lakeside trail, towing my BOB (Beast of Burden) trailer, something I'll admit I haven't done since touring New Zealand a few years ago.
Jo-Ann had rented the cabin a few months ago, hoping enough people would fill the bunks. Five of us pedaled out to stay the night and three day-trippers endured the rain all the way to the cabin, had lunch and a hot drink, then turned around and faced the rain for the 12-mile ride back! I don't know that I would have done that.
Things to pack on such an overnighter: warm, dry clothes, lots of socks, cabin shoes, dry shorts for the next day! Also, no matter how many times you hear that you don't need to bring something, such as a stove or cook pots, or cups - bring them! Besides one very large soup-making sized pot, there was nothing to cook in, so I was happy that I'd thrown in my cook kit. We didn't need the stove, but we may have, so it was good we had it just in case.
We did have a newspaper to use for fire starter, but there was only a small amount of dry wood, so we conserved what we had while hauling in what little we could find, even damp wood we could dry inside for morning or for the next visitors. Next time, I'll tell each person to bring at least one log (if we have a dozen people, that should get us through the night).
The colors were changing almost as we rode, the rain blew at us in the headwind coming from the glacier, upvalley. Arriving at the cabin was a pretty happy moment, knowing we could peel off the wet socks and pants, hang our rain jackets and just hang out and relax.
I did pull out the nalgene filled with wine a little early, but the sun's going down a little earlier these days also. And I certainly wasn't going anywhere - except the outhouse - in the storm. We dined on halibut burritos by candlelight before climbing into our sleeping bags in the cubbie-like bunks.
Listened to the rain and wind much of the night, but in the morning were able to pack and get on the trail with no wind or rain... the rain did start falling again as sprinkles a few miles from the parking lot, then became a full shower as we packed our bikes & gear to return to Anchorage.
I've biked in the rain plenty of times, but to set out in the rain to a cabin a dozen miles in is somewhat of a leap - hoping you have everything you'll need to get through the night. This trip with my friends proved that we can put together an adventure and have fun despite the challenges of the weather. Sign me up for next year!
Jo-Ann had rented the cabin a few months ago, hoping enough people would fill the bunks. Five of us pedaled out to stay the night and three day-trippers endured the rain all the way to the cabin, had lunch and a hot drink, then turned around and faced the rain for the 12-mile ride back! I don't know that I would have done that.
Things to pack on such an overnighter: warm, dry clothes, lots of socks, cabin shoes, dry shorts for the next day! Also, no matter how many times you hear that you don't need to bring something, such as a stove or cook pots, or cups - bring them! Besides one very large soup-making sized pot, there was nothing to cook in, so I was happy that I'd thrown in my cook kit. We didn't need the stove, but we may have, so it was good we had it just in case.
We did have a newspaper to use for fire starter, but there was only a small amount of dry wood, so we conserved what we had while hauling in what little we could find, even damp wood we could dry inside for morning or for the next visitors. Next time, I'll tell each person to bring at least one log (if we have a dozen people, that should get us through the night).
The colors were changing almost as we rode, the rain blew at us in the headwind coming from the glacier, upvalley. Arriving at the cabin was a pretty happy moment, knowing we could peel off the wet socks and pants, hang our rain jackets and just hang out and relax.
I did pull out the nalgene filled with wine a little early, but the sun's going down a little earlier these days also. And I certainly wasn't going anywhere - except the outhouse - in the storm. We dined on halibut burritos by candlelight before climbing into our sleeping bags in the cubbie-like bunks.
Listened to the rain and wind much of the night, but in the morning were able to pack and get on the trail with no wind or rain... the rain did start falling again as sprinkles a few miles from the parking lot, then became a full shower as we packed our bikes & gear to return to Anchorage.
I've biked in the rain plenty of times, but to set out in the rain to a cabin a dozen miles in is somewhat of a leap - hoping you have everything you'll need to get through the night. This trip with my friends proved that we can put together an adventure and have fun despite the challenges of the weather. Sign me up for next year!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
racing is dead; long live cycling
Most cyclists I know ride their bikes for fun and/or commuting to & from work. Sometimes their friends will talk them into doing a race or two. Or, they may even convince themselves that this is what they want to do. I've been there. I've done a few bike races, a couple 5-K and 5-mile runs. I even did a triathlon! Yes, my friends had alot to do with it. But once I set my sites on my goals, I was pretty focused on meeting them.
Last year, as I was training for the triathlon, I would do the prescribed workout on the trainer in the garage, then hit the door opener, jump off the bike and take off running through the neighborhood. I took swimming lessons to develop a stroke that didn't resemble a dog-paddle. I followed the regimen. I tried to eat enough to keep up with the training. I was working at least 50 hours a week, but I missed commuting to work. With all the training, I felt like a poseur. A fraud. When people asked if I commuted to work I'd answer, "In theory." I'll admit, I was pretty embarassed!
After the tri - in which I did meet my goal time (yes!) - I missed the swimming but I was also most relieved that it was time to get back to commuting. I was especially happy to return to mountain biking. The dirt trails were about to open and I wanted to ride through the woods with the colors and smells of spring. The bonus from the training was that I felt pretty strong.
But why does it take a race to get so many of us motivated? Testing ourselves and comparing our results to others is such a part of our culture - even beyond the cycling culture. And on the pro-level, we tag people with the name "hero" for winning a race, for turning their life around or pulling themselves up by their cleats. We aspire to be like them; train like them; ride their bikes and eat the same food.
Well, my friend, pass me another slice of Moose's Tooth pizza and pour me a Pipeline Stout. I may get drawn into another race in the future, but for now, I hope each ride and each meal is a celebration. Cheers!
Last year, as I was training for the triathlon, I would do the prescribed workout on the trainer in the garage, then hit the door opener, jump off the bike and take off running through the neighborhood. I took swimming lessons to develop a stroke that didn't resemble a dog-paddle. I followed the regimen. I tried to eat enough to keep up with the training. I was working at least 50 hours a week, but I missed commuting to work. With all the training, I felt like a poseur. A fraud. When people asked if I commuted to work I'd answer, "In theory." I'll admit, I was pretty embarassed!
After the tri - in which I did meet my goal time (yes!) - I missed the swimming but I was also most relieved that it was time to get back to commuting. I was especially happy to return to mountain biking. The dirt trails were about to open and I wanted to ride through the woods with the colors and smells of spring. The bonus from the training was that I felt pretty strong.
But why does it take a race to get so many of us motivated? Testing ourselves and comparing our results to others is such a part of our culture - even beyond the cycling culture. And on the pro-level, we tag people with the name "hero" for winning a race, for turning their life around or pulling themselves up by their cleats. We aspire to be like them; train like them; ride their bikes and eat the same food.
Well, my friend, pass me another slice of Moose's Tooth pizza and pour me a Pipeline Stout. I may get drawn into another race in the future, but for now, I hope each ride and each meal is a celebration. Cheers!
Saturday, August 18, 2007
the pursuit of blueberries
Mid-August here in Southcentral Alaska and I've been off the bike for a couple of weeks. What to do when not able to ride?
Hike.
So, for the past two weeks, I've been doing some hikes - even went for a run... once. The first longer hike was on my own on the newly-reopened trail from the end of Canyon Road back to Rabbit Lake. I had a sunny Wednesday off and hadn't been to the lake in a long time. Ran into a few people, but mostly enjoyed the day & just sitting by the lake. I only glanced around for blueberries.
A few days later, Jon & I did a hike after work starting at the same trailhead, but hiking up to a ridge. Waning daylight left us no time to pick berries, but you could call it a scoping mission, because the main reason Jon hikes in August and September is for the blueberries. He'll pick for hours - all day if he can. He can fill a backpacking pack with containers and come home with all of them filled. He will pick til sunset, so focused he gets in his quest.
I did go back to the trail once more with him to pick after work. We each filled one large container before calling it a night. We didn't do much hiking, but we scoured that berry patch!
Then, just this past Thursday we had a day off (one of two, actually, but the first it rained). We packed a few containers and headed to Little Peter's Creek. I'd never hiked the route, but knew the destination. It looked like about a six mile trail each way. On the way up we made note of a few promising spots and continued til the trail disappeared into the tundra. We ate a snack and started picking, each of us making our way along the side slope. In the sun the entire time. Containers filled, we started back, stopping at different berry patches until they played out or we lost interest.
Jon says if a location doesn't look amazing, to move on until you find one that does. I can see his point. You can spend a lot of time picking eight berries off a bush or find a bush that's covered with dozens. It keeps my attention better.
Our final picking spot was where the winter and summer trails were close to each other. I remembered an impressive blue while hiking up and promised I would return to it, but didn't mark the spot. So, moving away from Jon, I strolled along the narrow trail as it wound through roots, trees and berry patches. Picked a few just to hear the plunking sound in the bottom of the container. Did I remember it wrong? Did it only impress me because it was the first patch we had come to? I wished I had placed a branch on the trail to mark the spot so I wouldn't have to wonder.
I stepped over a tree that had fallen on the trail and made my way a little farther when there it was. More berries than leaves on this particular plant. I whistled for Jon to join me, but he didn't hear. I squatted to pick, container on the ground, both hands pulling the berries from under the branches. I looked up and around me trying to be alert for the bears who might be traveling through the area, hoping they were all at the creek catching salmon.
It was quite a haul I'd discovered and some nearby plants were almost as filled, but none quite like the one that first got my attention. Soon the patch played out and, not wanting to get very far off the trail, I joined Jon at his spot. It was eight in the evening - we began the hike just before noon - and we still had about two miles to hike back to the trailhead.
At home, Jon put the berry containers on the scale - about 17 pounds! Time to get out the freezer bags and get to work!
Hike.
So, for the past two weeks, I've been doing some hikes - even went for a run... once. The first longer hike was on my own on the newly-reopened trail from the end of Canyon Road back to Rabbit Lake. I had a sunny Wednesday off and hadn't been to the lake in a long time. Ran into a few people, but mostly enjoyed the day & just sitting by the lake. I only glanced around for blueberries.
A few days later, Jon & I did a hike after work starting at the same trailhead, but hiking up to a ridge. Waning daylight left us no time to pick berries, but you could call it a scoping mission, because the main reason Jon hikes in August and September is for the blueberries. He'll pick for hours - all day if he can. He can fill a backpacking pack with containers and come home with all of them filled. He will pick til sunset, so focused he gets in his quest.
I did go back to the trail once more with him to pick after work. We each filled one large container before calling it a night. We didn't do much hiking, but we scoured that berry patch!
Then, just this past Thursday we had a day off (one of two, actually, but the first it rained). We packed a few containers and headed to Little Peter's Creek. I'd never hiked the route, but knew the destination. It looked like about a six mile trail each way. On the way up we made note of a few promising spots and continued til the trail disappeared into the tundra. We ate a snack and started picking, each of us making our way along the side slope. In the sun the entire time. Containers filled, we started back, stopping at different berry patches until they played out or we lost interest.
Jon says if a location doesn't look amazing, to move on until you find one that does. I can see his point. You can spend a lot of time picking eight berries off a bush or find a bush that's covered with dozens. It keeps my attention better.
Our final picking spot was where the winter and summer trails were close to each other. I remembered an impressive blue while hiking up and promised I would return to it, but didn't mark the spot. So, moving away from Jon, I strolled along the narrow trail as it wound through roots, trees and berry patches. Picked a few just to hear the plunking sound in the bottom of the container. Did I remember it wrong? Did it only impress me because it was the first patch we had come to? I wished I had placed a branch on the trail to mark the spot so I wouldn't have to wonder.
I stepped over a tree that had fallen on the trail and made my way a little farther when there it was. More berries than leaves on this particular plant. I whistled for Jon to join me, but he didn't hear. I squatted to pick, container on the ground, both hands pulling the berries from under the branches. I looked up and around me trying to be alert for the bears who might be traveling through the area, hoping they were all at the creek catching salmon.
It was quite a haul I'd discovered and some nearby plants were almost as filled, but none quite like the one that first got my attention. Soon the patch played out and, not wanting to get very far off the trail, I joined Jon at his spot. It was eight in the evening - we began the hike just before noon - and we still had about two miles to hike back to the trailhead.
At home, Jon put the berry containers on the scale - about 17 pounds! Time to get out the freezer bags and get to work!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
paddling and pedaling
For our nineth anniverary, our friend Alan invited my husband Jon & me to join him on a short river trip. Just a day trip with pretty straight-forward logistics: Pack up two inflatable kayaks and three bikes plus gear and drive from Anchorage to Portage. Where Portage creek crossed under the Seward Highway, we stashed & locked our bikes and helmets in the brush out of view of the highway. We would use those to get back to the car.
We then drove to Portage Lake visitor center and parked under the bridge that goes to the first tunnel enroute to Whittier. Inflated the kayaks - Jon & I would share the double - donned our equipment, rain pants, pfds. Packed food & beers, etc. It's been awhile since I've been in a boat, but each time I'm in one I enjoy being on the water so much it makes me wish I didn't have to drive somewhere to get to these conditions.
Alan gave us lessons on how to use the kayaks in the creek since we've only been in them in open water. We started by paddling upstream into the corner of the lake that's open to kayaks and canoes. Caught a glimps of part of the glacier before heading to the creek.
So, I think I know how to maneuver the boat and Jon thinks he does too, but we end up out of sync with Alan trying to shout a tip over the sounds of our voices and my paddle splashing the water since I'm not placing it far enough into the water. "An anniversary challenge," I say to Jon. And it is a challenge. To not get frustrated with Jon; to operate this equipment without frustrating him; to laugh when one of us does something wrong and realize we'll get it figured out. For Jon to not get annoyed when I splash him.
Alan offered perspective by telling us that the person in the front understands the maneuvering from where they sit (behind the pivot point of the kayak), while the person in the back understands it from in front of the pivot. To understand the other person's perspective, it would take switching positions. Walk a mile in my shoes; paddle for a while from the front of the boat. Nine years is a milestone. I hope we can continue appreciating each others' persepectives even if we can never really stand in each others' shoes.
I thank Alan, who was our best man 9 years ago, for the gifts he continues to give to us. I can't stand in his shoes either.
We then drove to Portage Lake visitor center and parked under the bridge that goes to the first tunnel enroute to Whittier. Inflated the kayaks - Jon & I would share the double - donned our equipment, rain pants, pfds. Packed food & beers, etc. It's been awhile since I've been in a boat, but each time I'm in one I enjoy being on the water so much it makes me wish I didn't have to drive somewhere to get to these conditions.
Alan gave us lessons on how to use the kayaks in the creek since we've only been in them in open water. We started by paddling upstream into the corner of the lake that's open to kayaks and canoes. Caught a glimps of part of the glacier before heading to the creek.
So, I think I know how to maneuver the boat and Jon thinks he does too, but we end up out of sync with Alan trying to shout a tip over the sounds of our voices and my paddle splashing the water since I'm not placing it far enough into the water. "An anniversary challenge," I say to Jon. And it is a challenge. To not get frustrated with Jon; to operate this equipment without frustrating him; to laugh when one of us does something wrong and realize we'll get it figured out. For Jon to not get annoyed when I splash him.
Alan offered perspective by telling us that the person in the front understands the maneuvering from where they sit (behind the pivot point of the kayak), while the person in the back understands it from in front of the pivot. To understand the other person's perspective, it would take switching positions. Walk a mile in my shoes; paddle for a while from the front of the boat. Nine years is a milestone. I hope we can continue appreciating each others' persepectives even if we can never really stand in each others' shoes.
I thank Alan, who was our best man 9 years ago, for the gifts he continues to give to us. I can't stand in his shoes either.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Spring commuting
Break-up is in full swing on the snow trails in Anchorage.
Unless you get to the snow in the early morning, it's now too soft to ride. And if you get there early, it's sure to be bumpy.
Biking in to work yesterday, Sunday, I was surprised that I didn't have to get off my bike to push it across a short stretch of trail. Instead I rode about a quarter mile on the frozen, bumpy trail.
On the way home in the early evening, I had to get off and push. Pushing through soft snow is like pushing your bike in sand. I commented to my partner, "this is why you'll never see me do the Susitna 100!" I'm impressed with the dedication of people who do that 100-mile winter race and the Ultrasport (350 miles), but I don't think I'd want to do either of them because of all that pushing.
You know we're heading toward spring because last week I began riding without studded tires. I pulled out the 29-er and will be biking on that beast until my route is clear and swept - then I'll ride the road bike to work.
My goal this year is to commute to work more - a good goal; I just need to be dedicated and organized enough to get those miles in. We'll see how I do. In case you didn't notice, last week we hit the hundredth day of the year, so I'd better park the car more and start riding toward my goal.
Unless you get to the snow in the early morning, it's now too soft to ride. And if you get there early, it's sure to be bumpy.
Biking in to work yesterday, Sunday, I was surprised that I didn't have to get off my bike to push it across a short stretch of trail. Instead I rode about a quarter mile on the frozen, bumpy trail.
On the way home in the early evening, I had to get off and push. Pushing through soft snow is like pushing your bike in sand. I commented to my partner, "this is why you'll never see me do the Susitna 100!" I'm impressed with the dedication of people who do that 100-mile winter race and the Ultrasport (350 miles), but I don't think I'd want to do either of them because of all that pushing.
You know we're heading toward spring because last week I began riding without studded tires. I pulled out the 29-er and will be biking on that beast until my route is clear and swept - then I'll ride the road bike to work.
My goal this year is to commute to work more - a good goal; I just need to be dedicated and organized enough to get those miles in. We'll see how I do. In case you didn't notice, last week we hit the hundredth day of the year, so I'd better park the car more and start riding toward my goal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)