Seriously…how did it get to me May already? I’m not sure, but apparently it’s bike month. So, let’s see how I do!
The Bike Everywhere Challenge Recap
The Bike Everywhere challenge is over! Our team captain, Jessie (also a Wooleater) led our team of 10 riders to logging no less than 1550 miles! Between the 10 of us, we took 283 riding trips in one month. Not bad for a bunch of nerds! I personally rocked it. I usually ride about 65 miles a week, but I exceeded that this month somehow. No wonder I've been so tired!
Happy Cinco de Mayo!
I earned all 8 tacos for Bike Everywhere Month in just 3 days! I set me goal next week for 12 tacos! Will I make it? Only taco will tell!
Tacos!
It's "Bike Everywhere Month" once again. Bike Month happens every May, and each time I feel bittersweet about it. This year I have a new goal. Tacos! Can I burn/earn 8 tacos in 1 week? I am new to the taco measurement system, so I am not sure what it takes. Needless to stay, I'm already 1.41 tacos down and it's the first day. Looking good!
Ride in the Rain Challenge 2016 Results
The results are in! I am happy with my participation in this challenge. I ranked first in distance out of all the other co-workers on my team and 2nd for number of trips. I am happy to rank first in distance. The challenge itself looks at numbers of trips. I assume looking at number of trips is more inclusive, because folks who are not cyclists can still ride their bike here and there. I am all for including more people, but when it comes to commuting, I think distance should be just a commendable. The shorter your distances the more trips a rider can make. There is a direct socioeconomic correlation with how close people are able to live from work and the grocery store, etc. I looked at the rankings, and the people who made the most trips did so by logging several quarter and half mile trips every day. I look at them and think, “lucky duck! Can I be your roommate?” When I looked at the participant who logged the most miles, I felt real respect. This guy had a 25 or 30 miles one-way commute to work depending on which route he took. And he biked to and from work every day. Respect, dude, respect.
It was a good month. November gave me decent weather and decent drivers. Yeah, it rained, but it wasn’t crazy Noah-gets-PTSD sort of rain. It was just rain. It was cold. But not so cold. It was dark, but I am not yet tired and blind to daylight. I actually like riding in the rain better than most of my other options. Rain means fewer people out on the road and more cautious drivers. During the beautiful sunny days of summer, I am often stressed by the congestion of bikes on the road, the wayward tourists and overall distracted state of people in general. The people who come outside in the rain mean business. These are good people to share the road with.
Fremont Bridge bike count: 129
Now that the Ride in the Rain Challenge is over, I am down to “winter numbers” on the bike counter. I likely won’t have more than 250 people riding before me until February when people start training for Chilly Hilly. On rainy days, I’ll be in the low 100s. Good days ahead. Indeed.
Thinking of a kayak for my commute
Hey average rider, I am totally kicking your butt!
This October made history as the wettest October ever recorded here in Seattle. Not only did the rain fall, it fell hard. November is traditionally the wettest month of the year, and with my commutes mostly in the darkness already, I didn’t look forward to the Ride In the Rain Challenge. My count at the Fremont bridge rapidly dropped down to winter levels in the 150’s. I opted to join the challenge at the last minute. How could I not? This sort of thing is very much Seattle and I just have to do it. I have another long, dark, wet winter ahead, might as well make it as fun as possible, right? As soon as November started, my count jumped back up to the 250's, meaning there must be 100 commuters before me who are doing it just for this very challenge. Way to motivate us, Washington Bikes!
To commemorate the rain, I’ll share with you an epic rain ride experience:
Rain fell heavily on the way to work the other day. No matter, I have top end waterproof cycling jacket, and warm thinsulate gloves, and gore-tex shoes. It wasn't until half way through my ride that I noticed my jacket failed. My jackets has never failed me in the 3 years I've been riding in the rain, but today my arms, shirt, and phone all got a drippy layer covering them.
Then, I turned an unforgettable corner. I turned right onto 34th from Stone Way, a turn I make every day. Usually my only concern is making sure there isn't another oncoming cyclist in my line of pedal. However, on this day, I turned the corner and everything stopped. So many sensations hit me all at once. I felt my bike come to a halt. This was the sort of halt when you suddenly find yourself going up a very steep hill and you shift in the wrong direction. If felt like the front of my bike got punched. At the same moment, I felt water cover me. Streams of cool water poured inside my clothing. My shoes, submerged in water, filled more quickly than I could register. As I watched water pour over my knees, my body responded automatically, involuntarily. Out of some soul unknown to me, my legs pushed down with all their might. My body didn't hesitate, when the force of my legs did nothing, my body reflexively stood up and pushed down. And pushed. And pushed. My mind felt like a bystander, a watcher in all of this. One leg moved. Then another leg moved. Sometimes bikes halt suddenly in a ride, perhaps a strong wind or a skipped gear, and the body does everything it can to keep from falling over. As if falling meant terrible, irrecoverable doom. My brain the bystander finally caught up to the moment, "I am not falling. I'm upright. I'm a-OK. Let's observe the situation. What is going on?" I looked out and realized I hit a giant puddle. It was dark outside so the glossy black of the puddle was hard to distinguish from the black gloss of wet asphalt. I looked ahead, "where does this puddle end?" It seemed to reach forever ahead of me, ending in the middle of the car lane beside me. Reflexively, I started to turn toward the edge of the water. I stopped myself, realizing that would mean me turning into traffic and I was working too hard to pay attention to what's behind me. I looked down. One foot, gone, lost in the black glass. Waves crested over my knees. The other foot, gone. I thought, "How is it even possible that this water is so deep? I am on a road, I am on this road every day, how did it suddenly become a river I have to cross?" I got through the thick of it, the pool became a more typical wake of water splashing up form my tires. I, dripping from wet, looked around, frantic to find another cyclist. I pedaled alone.
The next day, the river had drained. What I noticed though, is that the road takes a particular dip at this corner, making it much lower than all the road around it. What I also noticed was small walls of sandbags built up at the edges of the asphalt. I couldn't figure out what the sandbags where trying to protect, but that explained for the added depth in the puddle. To this day, the corner is covered in a thick, wet muck of leaves and road debris. It's easy to see how drainage grates wouldn't stand a chance in this spot.