Learning to Ride

On my ride home yesterday, I saw a young boy. He was straddling the bike sheepishly. He was unsure of himself, but determined. His left foot was hopping along the ground as his right foot was busy coaxing the corresponding pedal to the 1:00 o'clock position. By this time, I drew abreast of him and quickly passed by. I glanced over my shoulder to gauge his success to find that he and the bike were a cohesive heap on the road. He immediately jumped up, grabbed the bike patiently and started to attempt the whole process again. I smiled to myself and thought, bravo, keep at it lad. The joys and freedom that await you once you get up on two wheels will far outweigh the bumps and bruises you suffer while learning to.

My Typical Commute - Mile 0

The alarm goes off at 4:30 AM and my day begins.  I throw some beans in the grinder and start the coffee a brewing...

The smell of coffee does it to me every time, so its off to the throne...

I let the dog out...

I get dressed...

I pour a cup of coffee, piddle a while on the computer and enjoy the peace and quiet.  The mornings are my time.   In the next couple hours, I'll be at work enduring constant interruptions and being pulled in a million directions.  When I finally make it home, it will be time to invest in this wonderful thing called marriage.  I'll sneak in a drink or two.  I'll go to bed early.  The mornings are my time and I protect them religiously and savor them immensely.

I don my riding gear...

I load the bike...

Before I get to the end of my drive way, I am faced with a choice...

Do I turn right and take the longer route to work (10 miles) or do I turn left and take the shorter route (5 miles)?  It's cold and still dark out, so I turned left.

The Musings of My Spinning Instructor

This year, I've started participating in a spinning class on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays.  This isn't my first foray into this form of exercise.  10 years or so ago I found myself enthralled with spinning on a regular basis.  My instructor at the time was this drop dead gorgeous brunette that looked phenomenal in tights.  She would position her bike at the front of the class facing us.  Behind her was a wall of mirrors.  We were afforded an all around view of her assets.  It was like surround sound and 3D on steroids!!  I never missed a class.  After too short a time, she quit to pursue other career opportunities.  I lost all interest in spinning, until just recently.

Now I am proud to admit that it is all about the bike.  My motivation to spin is no longer driven by a shallow obsession with a scantily clad, drop dead gorgeous brunette.  Bob positions his bike amidst the rest of the class and leads us through an hour long sufferfest.   I think he fancies himself a bit of a philosopher, cause as the sweat pours, he occasionally throws out a tid-bit or two of things to chew on mentally.  Case in point, as we were spinning along yesterday morning, he yells out this jewel above the hip-hop music...

"When you think you're at you're end, the BIKE calls for more!  Repent!!  Repent!!!"

I fancy myself a bit of a philosopher as well, so I smile, put my head down and pedal harder!  I repent!!  I repent!!!

PS - Bob if you're reading this, I like you, but if the drop dead gorgeous brunette ever shows up looking for a job, I'll be leading the charge to have you replaced.  Sorry - It's nothing personal!

Commuting Persistence

I was riding home from work.

It was late - It was dark - It was raining.

The visibility wasn't the best, but I was taking my time and actually enjoying the even slower than usual pace.  I was in no hurry.  I had no place to be.  I had no schedule to keep.  It was me - the bike - the darkness - the rain.  We weren't  in each others way.  No matter what else the world was doing at that moment - we were coexisting in harmony.

I approached a side street and noticed a car pulling up at that instant.  I instinctively tapped the brakes and it was a good thing I did.  It wasn't until my headlamp was shining bright in the drivers shocked face that she became aware of my presence.  It was too late, they had already pulled out.  If I had not slowed down and pulled slightly onto the street they recently vacated, their first inkling of my presence would have been me sliding, none too gracefully I'm sure, across their hood.

Commuting on a bike is dangerous business.  I don't do it cause I like flirting with danger.  I do it cause I like riding.  I take every possible precaution to minimize my risk.  I obey the law.  I wear bright clothing.  I avoid main thoroughfares.  My bike is lit up like a Christmas tree.  I ride defensively.  I like to think that these things reduce my risk.  The operative word is "reduce".  Yet despite my due diligence, there are times when the unexpected happens.  This night I was ready.

Tomorrow morning, despite the close call, I will once again straddle my bike and pedal away.  Given the danger, why do I persist in riding?  The answer is quite simple really - The alternative is something I cannot and will not brook!

A Roaring Wind

 I first heard it as I regained consciousness from a sound night's sleep.  I thought the nearby Air Force base was flying training runs in the early hours.  It wasn't until I drug myself out of bed and stumbled to the coffee pot that the true source of the sound manifested it's way into my brain.  As the coffee brewed, I leaned against the counter and, in my groggy mind, hoped it would be a tailwind. 

It was still quite dark as I slung a leg over my bike and pushed off for my morning commute.  As I rode through the neighborhoods making my way to the gym, the presence of the wind made itself eerily known.  It was too dark to see it blowing the trees about.  I was sheltered by the houses and could not feel it.  But the sound - oh the sound.  It was veritable roar as it rushed overhead.  It sounded like the echo of an angry giant.  I cringed and pedaled on.  Hoping to escape its notice.

When I left the gym, daylight was starting to dawn.  I stopped a moment to gaze upon the James River and the tempest into which it had been thrown.  In the daylight, I no longer feared it, but instead was simply grateful it was to my back.