I had a great ride home this evening, and it wasn't just because my Fargo was dressed up with flowers on the handlebar. The air was cleansed by the rain. Just a few sprinkles landed on me after I left the shop at around 9. I could see some clouds moving over toward the inlet, but there was hardly a breeze.
Drivers cooperated as I rode through the construction at the Seward Highway. Pickup trucks waited for me. People backed away from intersections when they saw me. They yielded when they had the right-0f-way. Along Elmore Road, I saw two moose browsing in a meadow near the mushing trails.
I turned onto the path alongside the new Martin Luther King, Jr. Avenue, passed the ballfields and climbed a small hill at Tudor Center Drive. That's when I saw three black bears on the north side of the avenue. I stopped and turned my bike sideways on the trail, prepared to backtrack if I had to.
It was a sow and two cubs. They were shiny and their fur rippled as they moved together and began running across the road. Bear cubs sometimes seem like they could tumble head-over-heels at any moment; their legs seem so small in proportion to their bodies. The family crossed two lanes of pavement, the median and another two lanes as a few cars slowed to let them pass. I watched and waited; saw them disappear around a fence and into the forest.
People have been seeing bears on the trails on the edge of town: in a municipal park a little closer to the mountains and in the state park. I wasn't expecting to see this family tonight but it put a big smile on my face to see my first bears of the year.
Just a side note:
I can't let this moment pass without mentioning that before I climbed the little hill near Tudor Center, I'd noticed the wide underpass that was built under the road. It includes a branch of the paved trail system and a wide grassy area. Planners said it would be a safe wildlife crossing, preventing animals from crossing the road and getting hit by cars. I think I'd rather I encounter the bears at street level as I did this evening instead of under the overpass.
Showing posts with label commute. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commute. Show all posts
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
commuting encounters
I'm half-way through my commitment, working at the shop for the two busiest months of the year. It's a good time to put in some hours: it's consistently busy so the time flies, and the riding is not so interesting right now. It's that awkward season between winter's snow riding and the dirt trails opening. Riding to work on the pavement is my main form of biking right now. As Jon says: I'm pretty good at biking 9 miles fast.
During the commute, there's lots to watch out for. Glass on the paths, potholes and mispositioned curb cuts. Motor vehicles, of course. People and dogs and piles of gravel. Last week I had a few moments of frustration. First, there was the pedestrian on Lake Otis Parkway. I saw him from a distance as he looked at the bus schedule. I slowed a little as he stepped away from it. I called out to him. As I drew closer, he looked at the traffic that was coming from the other direction, stepped in front of me then began crossing the street. He neither heard nor saw me even though I was shouting to get his attention.
Finally, as I rode past, I said: Dude! You just stepped in front of me! He stopped in the street, turned around and looked at me with a blank stare, white cords dangling from his ears. Yes, I should always expect that pedestrians have tuned out and won't hear me no matter how loud I ring my bell or shout "Biker! Biker behind you!" I'm used to car drivers not paying attention and not seeing me; it becomes more annoying when it's a pedestrian.
A truck driver did notice me a couple days later. He noticed Jon as well. We were riding in. I was on my road bike and we'd decided that rather than biking on the root- and frost-heaved path along Abbott Road (between Elmore and Lake Otis), we would ride on the road. There was still lots of gravel on the shoulder, but we managed to find enough clean pavement between the white line and the loose gravel to make for a fast ride.
Then I heard some shouts and the words "bike path!" hurled at me. As the pickup drove by, I raised my hand in a wave and a peace sign. Whatever. Then he yelled at Jon, who also waved. (Jon later told me he thought the driver was someone from one of the other shops teasing him. I've had friends do that to me: shout at me to get off the road, then wave madly as they go by.) Just after he passed Jon, Jon made a left turn and I followed so we could cut through a parking lot. The driver was paying attention through his mirror because he turned into the next driveway for the parking lot and headed my way. I stopped and prepared for a chat.
It went something like this:
Truck man: You should be on the path, not on the road. Me: I was riding in the bike lane. TM: That's not a bike lane; it doesn't have a bike painted on it. Me: I'm on my way to work. I ride on the road because there are so many intersections on the path and people don't stop at them to look. More people are hit by cars on the path than on the road. Drivers turning right are dangerous. TM: I don't want to hear your reasons. I'm sick of you bikers everywhere. I have a bike but I ride it on trails, when I'm hunting. Me: Well, I'm on my way to work.
The encounter happened so fast. I'm not entirely sure of the order of the comments. His volume was rising (along with his blood pressure) as he became more excited. I felt strong. I knew I was right. He was the one who instigated this encounter when he could have just continued past. It was just after 10 a.m. and maybe his day had started out crappy and he was taking it out on us, but I figure every encounter is a chance to educate. Perhaps I should thank him for noticing us.
Me: I just appreciate that you're watching out for cyclists! TM: I'm going to call DOT about this. Me: That reminds me, I'm going to call DOT to get them to sweep the shoulder. Truck Man grumbled and was turning red. Finally he began driving away and headed out the parking lot, returning in the direction he came. I don't think Jon had a chance to get more than a few words in.
It's strange; about half our route is on paths and just before we'd hopped on this short stretch of road, Jon and I had been talking about bike safety. Earlier that morning I'd read a Compass piece in the paper by a friend of the cyclist who was killed in early April after being struck and dragged by a car. Anchorage police had ruled the accident to be the fault of the cyclist, but the writer wasn't convinced. I'm not convinced either. An experienced cyclist is ever cautious. Aware of the danger spots on our familiar routes. We make choices based on past experiences. We know where it's safest to ride.
Jon and I made a choice last week to ride on a short stretch of road. I was riding safely and felt safer than I do when riding on the path. I don't want anyone to think I'm a big risk-taker. Far from it. I'll ride the road when there's room and it's clear. I'll ride the path when the road isn't any good. I'll hope the cars give me some space when I'm on the shoulder and will stop before the path when I'm on the pathway. Yeah, it could happen. But I'm not counting on it.
Whether riding legally on the road or on the path, my goal is to get to and from work safely. Is it too much to ask other people to pay as much attention to their surroundings as I do? Whether they're in a motor vehicle, on foot or on a bicycle. Sharing the road and sharing the trails aren't just nice sentiments, they are good practices that require people to be alert. I'll do my best to keep my eyes open and to give people plenty of room. Including when I'm in my car.
During the commute, there's lots to watch out for. Glass on the paths, potholes and mispositioned curb cuts. Motor vehicles, of course. People and dogs and piles of gravel. Last week I had a few moments of frustration. First, there was the pedestrian on Lake Otis Parkway. I saw him from a distance as he looked at the bus schedule. I slowed a little as he stepped away from it. I called out to him. As I drew closer, he looked at the traffic that was coming from the other direction, stepped in front of me then began crossing the street. He neither heard nor saw me even though I was shouting to get his attention.
Finally, as I rode past, I said: Dude! You just stepped in front of me! He stopped in the street, turned around and looked at me with a blank stare, white cords dangling from his ears. Yes, I should always expect that pedestrians have tuned out and won't hear me no matter how loud I ring my bell or shout "Biker! Biker behind you!" I'm used to car drivers not paying attention and not seeing me; it becomes more annoying when it's a pedestrian.
A truck driver did notice me a couple days later. He noticed Jon as well. We were riding in. I was on my road bike and we'd decided that rather than biking on the root- and frost-heaved path along Abbott Road (between Elmore and Lake Otis), we would ride on the road. There was still lots of gravel on the shoulder, but we managed to find enough clean pavement between the white line and the loose gravel to make for a fast ride.
Then I heard some shouts and the words "bike path!" hurled at me. As the pickup drove by, I raised my hand in a wave and a peace sign. Whatever. Then he yelled at Jon, who also waved. (Jon later told me he thought the driver was someone from one of the other shops teasing him. I've had friends do that to me: shout at me to get off the road, then wave madly as they go by.) Just after he passed Jon, Jon made a left turn and I followed so we could cut through a parking lot. The driver was paying attention through his mirror because he turned into the next driveway for the parking lot and headed my way. I stopped and prepared for a chat.
It went something like this:
Truck man: You should be on the path, not on the road. Me: I was riding in the bike lane. TM: That's not a bike lane; it doesn't have a bike painted on it. Me: I'm on my way to work. I ride on the road because there are so many intersections on the path and people don't stop at them to look. More people are hit by cars on the path than on the road. Drivers turning right are dangerous. TM: I don't want to hear your reasons. I'm sick of you bikers everywhere. I have a bike but I ride it on trails, when I'm hunting. Me: Well, I'm on my way to work.
The encounter happened so fast. I'm not entirely sure of the order of the comments. His volume was rising (along with his blood pressure) as he became more excited. I felt strong. I knew I was right. He was the one who instigated this encounter when he could have just continued past. It was just after 10 a.m. and maybe his day had started out crappy and he was taking it out on us, but I figure every encounter is a chance to educate. Perhaps I should thank him for noticing us.
Me: I just appreciate that you're watching out for cyclists! TM: I'm going to call DOT about this. Me: That reminds me, I'm going to call DOT to get them to sweep the shoulder. Truck Man grumbled and was turning red. Finally he began driving away and headed out the parking lot, returning in the direction he came. I don't think Jon had a chance to get more than a few words in.
It's strange; about half our route is on paths and just before we'd hopped on this short stretch of road, Jon and I had been talking about bike safety. Earlier that morning I'd read a Compass piece in the paper by a friend of the cyclist who was killed in early April after being struck and dragged by a car. Anchorage police had ruled the accident to be the fault of the cyclist, but the writer wasn't convinced. I'm not convinced either. An experienced cyclist is ever cautious. Aware of the danger spots on our familiar routes. We make choices based on past experiences. We know where it's safest to ride.
Jon and I made a choice last week to ride on a short stretch of road. I was riding safely and felt safer than I do when riding on the path. I don't want anyone to think I'm a big risk-taker. Far from it. I'll ride the road when there's room and it's clear. I'll ride the path when the road isn't any good. I'll hope the cars give me some space when I'm on the shoulder and will stop before the path when I'm on the pathway. Yeah, it could happen. But I'm not counting on it.
Whether riding legally on the road or on the path, my goal is to get to and from work safely. Is it too much to ask other people to pay as much attention to their surroundings as I do? Whether they're in a motor vehicle, on foot or on a bicycle. Sharing the road and sharing the trails aren't just nice sentiments, they are good practices that require people to be alert. I'll do my best to keep my eyes open and to give people plenty of room. Including when I'm in my car.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
pictures along my commute
I haven't had any photos for you lately, so here are a few things I saw on my commute yesterday:
A sign of spring on the Campbell Tract...
Generated by this other sign of spring... also on the Campbell Tract:
(by the way, that's bear scat)
This guy was pacing his driveway, a vocal & flamboyant sentry remains on duty while the hens run away:
Shortly after I arrived at work, Jon suggested I take a look in the parking lot. "Do I need my camera?" "Oh, yeah!"
The owner told me he bought the motor home at a junkyard in the Lower-48. It had suffered a fire, so he rebuilt it from the blue lower section up. Notice the fish on the front and the peaked roof!
Well, that's it for this post. Next: I'll tell you my plans for a short bike tour!
A sign of spring on the Campbell Tract...
Generated by this other sign of spring... also on the Campbell Tract:
(by the way, that's bear scat)This guy was pacing his driveway, a vocal & flamboyant sentry remains on duty while the hens run away:
Shortly after I arrived at work, Jon suggested I take a look in the parking lot. "Do I need my camera?" "Oh, yeah!"
The owner told me he bought the motor home at a junkyard in the Lower-48. It had suffered a fire, so he rebuilt it from the blue lower section up. Notice the fish on the front and the peaked roof!Well, that's it for this post. Next: I'll tell you my plans for a short bike tour!
Monday, August 31, 2009
not all out to get us
I was lurking on the local bicycle forum where someone had posted a link to some stats about bicycle fatalities. Knowing what mistakes drivers and cyclists make might help protect us from ourselves and others out there. This summer, two of my friends were involved in out-of-state bike/motor vehicle collisions. They're both okay, mostly. One was a hit & run. No known witnesses, no memory. He just doesn't know. I've suggested he post something on Craigslist in the area where it happened in case someone showed up at home & told their partner or parent that they didn't know what they hit with the car. I guess I'm just the kind of person who likes answers. Because if I don't have the answer, I'll just make up a story.
Who?
In my mind, the story has now evolved into an illicit affair, a sports car (based on seeing the bike), drugs or booze and lots of denial on the part of the driver. (Maybe I should write fiction.) I don't understand not wanting to know. I have so many curiosities and unanswered questions jumping around in my mind. For example, what is kitty thinking when I place the laptop upon my lap and she decides there's still room for her? Does she think she's being replaced as official lap warmer? Is she competing? Does she realize she's covering the mouse? You see what I mean: I like to have mysteries solved. But, I digress.
I haven't been bike commuting to a job for over a month. Doing a little mountain biking and riding my single speed across town occasionally. I'll admit my mileage is down. So, the other day I decided to ride over to my sister's place in South Anchorage for a little family get-together. My nephew's 29th birthday. (Happy birthday, Craig!) It was mostly the commute I used to make to the shop, except instead of descending to the business park, I had to climb up her winding street at the very end.
Even though I haven't biked the route in awhile, I'm very familiar with the motorists' behavior at the intersections, especially my favorite: Lake Otis and Abbott. Here's what happened. The traffic had the red. As the crosswalk light turned white, a pickup driver pulled through the crosswalk without stopping, slowed down and turned right in front of me. "That was my light!" I yelled through the open window as his passenger gave me a "what the hell is your problem?" look. After I crossed the intersection I laughed at how they probably couldn't even hear me but I was right. They hadn't stopped. They didn't yield. Hadn't looked. But I never assumed they would. Never assuming is part of our protection.
After having biked that route to & from work for years, I never expect any right-turn-on-red drivers to stop. But I almost always yell something at them. Maybe, over the years, I've even called some a bad name. Or two. I was commuting, what do you expect? Bikers can't occasionally have a little commuter rage? At least I've never purposely run into a car like someone I know. Of course, not all drivers are so ignorant or arrogant.
On occasion, a car will pull slowly up to the crosswalk, see me and stop. I am able to make eye contact with the driver, get a wave to go ahead. When they do that, I smile and say "thank you." By taking the time to notice and acknowledge me, they have just brightened my day and for a few moments, I have hope. Not every driver is trying to run us over. I figure they're another biker. Or they have actually read the rules of the road. Or they're Chechakos and haven't learned that in Anchorage stop lines are just a suggestion. To those drivers who follow the rules: thanks! To those who don't look and don't care: I wish for your children to become cyclists; avid cyclists. Will you see us then?
Who?In my mind, the story has now evolved into an illicit affair, a sports car (based on seeing the bike), drugs or booze and lots of denial on the part of the driver. (Maybe I should write fiction.) I don't understand not wanting to know. I have so many curiosities and unanswered questions jumping around in my mind. For example, what is kitty thinking when I place the laptop upon my lap and she decides there's still room for her? Does she think she's being replaced as official lap warmer? Is she competing? Does she realize she's covering the mouse? You see what I mean: I like to have mysteries solved. But, I digress.
I haven't been bike commuting to a job for over a month. Doing a little mountain biking and riding my single speed across town occasionally. I'll admit my mileage is down. So, the other day I decided to ride over to my sister's place in South Anchorage for a little family get-together. My nephew's 29th birthday. (Happy birthday, Craig!) It was mostly the commute I used to make to the shop, except instead of descending to the business park, I had to climb up her winding street at the very end.
Even though I haven't biked the route in awhile, I'm very familiar with the motorists' behavior at the intersections, especially my favorite: Lake Otis and Abbott. Here's what happened. The traffic had the red. As the crosswalk light turned white, a pickup driver pulled through the crosswalk without stopping, slowed down and turned right in front of me. "That was my light!" I yelled through the open window as his passenger gave me a "what the hell is your problem?" look. After I crossed the intersection I laughed at how they probably couldn't even hear me but I was right. They hadn't stopped. They didn't yield. Hadn't looked. But I never assumed they would. Never assuming is part of our protection.
After having biked that route to & from work for years, I never expect any right-turn-on-red drivers to stop. But I almost always yell something at them. Maybe, over the years, I've even called some a bad name. Or two. I was commuting, what do you expect? Bikers can't occasionally have a little commuter rage? At least I've never purposely run into a car like someone I know. Of course, not all drivers are so ignorant or arrogant.
On occasion, a car will pull slowly up to the crosswalk, see me and stop. I am able to make eye contact with the driver, get a wave to go ahead. When they do that, I smile and say "thank you." By taking the time to notice and acknowledge me, they have just brightened my day and for a few moments, I have hope. Not every driver is trying to run us over. I figure they're another biker. Or they have actually read the rules of the road. Or they're Chechakos and haven't learned that in Anchorage stop lines are just a suggestion. To those drivers who follow the rules: thanks! To those who don't look and don't care: I wish for your children to become cyclists; avid cyclists. Will you see us then?
Friday, April 10, 2009
turn, turn, turn
Spring is a long, awkward season in Anchorage. The streets and paths vary from crunchy ice to slushy, from running rivulets to ponds, or even dry and dusty. And that's just within a mile of my house. Turning it into a nine-mile commute just means I'm grinding through more bumpy, crusty ice in the morning. In the evenings, it's slush and running water with a cover of ice that's as fragile as the crust on creme brulee. What flies up from the trail is not nearly as tasty. (Note to self, re-install the front fender that fell off last week while riding the very bumpy trail.)
This week I tried it all. Commuting with the studded-tire bike, described above. Then on Wednesday, after hearing that the road conditions were shaping up on the west side, I installed pedals and a saddle on my road bike and hauled it across town in the car to check for myself. Despite a little water on the road in places and some sand and gravel on the sides, it felt great to get out on the light, skinny-tired bike - it probably weighs 10 pounds less than the commuter!
Around the airport, float planes were tied down on the shore of Lake Hood. Others were still out on the lake, though they'll have to be removed before the ice melts. Soon. After riding on the smooth roads, effortlessly accelerating away from the intersections, the thought of getting back on the commuter just is not appealing at all. I'm done with it. I want to be on something light and fast. Something that is silent, instead of filled with the buzzing vibration of each carbide stud as it hits the pavement. Then today, I had a chance to do a snow ride.
Yesterday, Jon had the day off and hit the snow trails in Bicentennial Park & the Campbell Tract on his Pugsley. Hardpacked and perfect, he told me. So after breakfast, we headed out on the snow bikes. A little soft at first. Dirt was starting to show through the white snow. Ash is still on top of the snow, making it melt faster. Tour of Anchorage. Blue Dot. Getting softer in the open areas where it gets more sun. Lower tire pressure helped. Baseball Boogie had some ice on it. Last time I rode it, everything was hardpacked - in prime condition. Then we made our way to the Trail of Many Names (Area 51, Regen., Speedway) where, had I followed my instincts, I never would have ventured.
see what I'm mean?
The section that skirts the meadow was so rotted that every tree root and stump was exposed. Mud and slush, I walked a bit, looking around the meadow at plants that have started emerging from the snow. A moose chewed on the bark of a downed tree. Back in the trees, it was mostly rideable, until we came to a few more open areas.
anybody for a slushie?
A ride like today's, while fun, signals an end for the winter riding season. Unless we get a late snow followed by some cold weather, this was it for the Pugsley. Now it's time for a month and a half of pavement riding until we can ride on the dirt trails in June. Ah, June. It seems so far away.
This week I tried it all. Commuting with the studded-tire bike, described above. Then on Wednesday, after hearing that the road conditions were shaping up on the west side, I installed pedals and a saddle on my road bike and hauled it across town in the car to check for myself. Despite a little water on the road in places and some sand and gravel on the sides, it felt great to get out on the light, skinny-tired bike - it probably weighs 10 pounds less than the commuter!
Around the airport, float planes were tied down on the shore of Lake Hood. Others were still out on the lake, though they'll have to be removed before the ice melts. Soon. After riding on the smooth roads, effortlessly accelerating away from the intersections, the thought of getting back on the commuter just is not appealing at all. I'm done with it. I want to be on something light and fast. Something that is silent, instead of filled with the buzzing vibration of each carbide stud as it hits the pavement. Then today, I had a chance to do a snow ride.
Yesterday, Jon had the day off and hit the snow trails in Bicentennial Park & the Campbell Tract on his Pugsley. Hardpacked and perfect, he told me. So after breakfast, we headed out on the snow bikes. A little soft at first. Dirt was starting to show through the white snow. Ash is still on top of the snow, making it melt faster. Tour of Anchorage. Blue Dot. Getting softer in the open areas where it gets more sun. Lower tire pressure helped. Baseball Boogie had some ice on it. Last time I rode it, everything was hardpacked - in prime condition. Then we made our way to the Trail of Many Names (Area 51, Regen., Speedway) where, had I followed my instincts, I never would have ventured.
see what I'm mean?The section that skirts the meadow was so rotted that every tree root and stump was exposed. Mud and slush, I walked a bit, looking around the meadow at plants that have started emerging from the snow. A moose chewed on the bark of a downed tree. Back in the trees, it was mostly rideable, until we came to a few more open areas.
anybody for a slushie?A ride like today's, while fun, signals an end for the winter riding season. Unless we get a late snow followed by some cold weather, this was it for the Pugsley. Now it's time for a month and a half of pavement riding until we can ride on the dirt trails in June. Ah, June. It seems so far away.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
goodwill to all
I made it almost to work in a mostly pleasant commute. The sun, though behind the clouds, was rising. The temperature was in the high 20s. My route was almost entirely ridable. The pedestrian signal at Lake Otis and O'Malley was working again.
The most nerve-wracking part of my ride was upon me. The short stretch on Huffman Road between Gregory and Huffman Park Drive, then the shop. I had a clear shot with a green light, keeping just left of the soft snow off to my right. I was in the traffic lane, because I am traffic.
View Larger Map
A car passed me just before the underpass, getting very close. We got to the next light at the same time, me in the right lane, him in the left. That's when he powered down his window and yelled at me, asking why I hadn't moved over. He answered his question by calling me a f*ing idiot. Then he kept yelling until the light turned green and he sped off. I pulled off my mitten with my teeth and flashed him a peace sign. I tried to find him after he pulled into the business park. No luck but my adrenaline was going.
I was working on what to say, and kept thinking about it as I let myself into the store. Now, every one of us has those days when we say something that we wish we could take back or rephrase. And I've even yelled at people on my commute, usually to let them know I'm at an intersection they just rolled through... But on my commutes I've never experienced quite this level of verbal assault. Someone asked if it made me mad, but that's not the word for how I feel. Confounded. Shocked, saddened.
Just because this guy couldn't wait two seconds to get past me and had to try to tear me down with words, I've let him control many of my thoughts for the day. But it's reminded me that I should try to remember that every person I encounter has other things on their mind; other things going on in their life and I should try to be patient with them. Because I don't want to be that guy.
What if I'd found him? All I had wanted was a chance to say "peace on earth; goodwill to all."
The most nerve-wracking part of my ride was upon me. The short stretch on Huffman Road between Gregory and Huffman Park Drive, then the shop. I had a clear shot with a green light, keeping just left of the soft snow off to my right. I was in the traffic lane, because I am traffic.
View Larger Map
A car passed me just before the underpass, getting very close. We got to the next light at the same time, me in the right lane, him in the left. That's when he powered down his window and yelled at me, asking why I hadn't moved over. He answered his question by calling me a f*ing idiot. Then he kept yelling until the light turned green and he sped off. I pulled off my mitten with my teeth and flashed him a peace sign. I tried to find him after he pulled into the business park. No luck but my adrenaline was going.
I was working on what to say, and kept thinking about it as I let myself into the store. Now, every one of us has those days when we say something that we wish we could take back or rephrase. And I've even yelled at people on my commute, usually to let them know I'm at an intersection they just rolled through... But on my commutes I've never experienced quite this level of verbal assault. Someone asked if it made me mad, but that's not the word for how I feel. Confounded. Shocked, saddened.
Just because this guy couldn't wait two seconds to get past me and had to try to tear me down with words, I've let him control many of my thoughts for the day. But it's reminded me that I should try to remember that every person I encounter has other things on their mind; other things going on in their life and I should try to be patient with them. Because I don't want to be that guy.
What if I'd found him? All I had wanted was a chance to say "peace on earth; goodwill to all."
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
the good, the bad & the ugly
Two recent stories in the Anchorage Daily News highlight some of the ups and downs of commuting in Anchorage. While we have a great system of recreational trails, many of us commute on more direct routes, such as on roads and streetside paths where we must remain incredibly diligent about safety at every single intersection. Not to say that I'm not careful when I'm in my car, but we're a little less visible and much more exposed when on our bikes.
Years ago, when I was learning to drive a car, my brother Mike told me this: always expect the other person to do the wrong thing. Good advice whether you're driving a car, riding a bike or even on foot -- don't expect people to see you or wait for you. It's been years since I listened to that advice, but its simplicity is something everyone on the roads and trails should remember.
The least pleasant part of the commute: the nasty fumes
from poorly-maintained vehicles and diesel trucks.
Why do drivers want to floor it to go by me?
Years ago, when I was learning to drive a car, my brother Mike told me this: always expect the other person to do the wrong thing. Good advice whether you're driving a car, riding a bike or even on foot -- don't expect people to see you or wait for you. It's been years since I listened to that advice, but its simplicity is something everyone on the roads and trails should remember.
The least pleasant part of the commute: the nasty fumesfrom poorly-maintained vehicles and diesel trucks.
Why do drivers want to floor it to go by me?
Monday, November 17, 2008
good to be out
commutersSunday I had a lovely commute to and from work. Snow was falling in the morning and I didn't have to rush to get there on time. It felt good to ride the route with snow under my wheels. On the way home, Jon and I took our favorite little commuting route through the woods - Lynx Trail, Moose Track, Salmon Run. We stopped to look at the ice on the creek. Not too cold. It was nice to be on a route I know so well riding by the light of my headlamp.
Truth be told, up until Saturday yours truly hadn't been outdoors on the bike in a week. The temps were rising but instead of riding to work, I have been in the midst of making changes. If there's one thing a biking vacation tells me, it's what kind of shape I'm in. This year, not so good. Not enough long rides to make long rides in the sun easier. It didn't help that I acquired what I called "desert crud" just a week into the trip. Darn cough morphed into bronchitis, the other reason I thought I'd stay indoors.
Instead of subjecting my sad lungs to the cold, I climbed on board the trainer. I know, I know! But sometimes it's the only way. The happy part is that the new trainer we have is less boring than the old one. It rocks! Literally, it rocks. It's a Kinetic Rock & Roll and it sways from side to side when I ride. I think it makes it more comfortable because it's more like riding on the road, but without the fear of crashing on rollers.
The other change is that I'm trying to make time to go to Pilates. It's been ages but I went to last Monday's class and my abs still hurt when I arrived at the Wednesday class! I'm not big on suffering, but feeling that muscle soreness told me one thing: they were working.
One thing that keeps me from going to Pilates classes is that it doesn't work with my bike commute. So my goal is to find a balance of enough commuting, enough Pilates and enough riding on the trainer. Plus knowing when to say "enough!," and push away my dinner plate. Now that's hard.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)