BLOG ACTION DAY, Aftermath - Why It’s Important to Ease Into New Things
The plan was to bike home after work yesterday, taking a few pictures along the way and posting about the overall experience once I got home.
As you’ve probably figured out by now… it didn’t work out.
I altered my return route slightly, detouring through Patapsco State Park to avoid the somewhat hairy patch of Route 1 I had to traverse on the way in. As a bonus, this new route even shaved 1/10 of a mile off of the total distance.
On paper, anyway.
Before I even got that far, I missed a turn during mile 2 and ended up pedaling exactly 1.35 miles (trust me on that - I checked) in the wrong direction - almost every inch of it uphill. The ride back down the hill was fun, at least, but the detour sapped a lot of my strength.
Just before entering the park, I stopped to take a picture and found a $10 bill in the gutter along the sidewalk. In retrospect, I feel like this was probably the universe’s way of apologizing to me for the rest of the trip.
The first mile inside the park went pretty well. The roads aren’t marked clearly, but they’re very well-kept, even once they become bikes-and-pedestrians-only. And the scenery can’t be beat. At this point, I noticed that my back tire was a little low. It didn’t have a leak as far as I could tell, but I probably should have given it a pump or two before I left the house that morning. It was a drag (literally), but I didn’t think it was enough to keep me from getting the rest of the way home.
And then my intended route brought me to the foot of a hill that climbed at a nearly vertical angle for a mile and a half. Not surprisingly, I had to push the bike up this monstrosity, feeling a bit like Sam must have felt lugging Frodo up the side of Mount Doom. Like Sisyphus, eternally rolling that fershlugginer boulder uphill in Tartarus. Like Jack, following Jill day after day to help her with that stupid pail of water, hoping beyond hope for a little kissy-face. It was exactly like that.
(Along the way, I met a guy carrying his garbage out to the end of his driveway. “Beautiful night for a ride,” he opined, politely refraining from pointing out that I wasn’t, in fact, riding.)
By the time I reached the top I was completely exhausted. Between getting lost and all that walking, I’d been on the road for an hour and a half and hadn’t even covered 4 miles of my 12 mile trip. I sailed down the other side of the hill at warp speed because damn, why wouldn’t you, but then I called for a dust off.
Fortunately, Trelina hadn’t gone to her bellydance class that night. If she had, I’d have been screwed. I kept moving while she drove out to meet me, pushing the bike up any hills I came to and riding down the other sides. At this point, either the back tire had deflated even further or I just had nothing left to give. It was a Herculean task to ride even when the ground was flat.
Trey caught up with me at about Mile 5, we tossed the bike in the back of her truck, and then she took me to Arby’s to soothe my mangled ego with a roast turkey reuben. That, as they say, is the stuff.
So what did I learn from my brief foray into bicycle commuting?
I was a lot too ambitious. I didn’t - as Dirty Harry taught me I should - know my limitations.
I think biking to work is worth doing at least a couple of times a week - good exercise, fewer cars on the road - but I should have started off by driving part way and biking the rest. There are several places I can park along my route, so that I can slowly build up to the full 12-mile route.
Will this happen before next spring? Probably not, but I should be able to get some shorter rides in before the weather goes completely to hell.
You can bet your ass that I drove into work today, though.
As you’ve probably figured out by now… it didn’t work out.
I altered my return route slightly, detouring through Patapsco State Park to avoid the somewhat hairy patch of Route 1 I had to traverse on the way in. As a bonus, this new route even shaved 1/10 of a mile off of the total distance.
On paper, anyway.
Before I even got that far, I missed a turn during mile 2 and ended up pedaling exactly 1.35 miles (trust me on that - I checked) in the wrong direction - almost every inch of it uphill. The ride back down the hill was fun, at least, but the detour sapped a lot of my strength.
Just before entering the park, I stopped to take a picture and found a $10 bill in the gutter along the sidewalk. In retrospect, I feel like this was probably the universe’s way of apologizing to me for the rest of the trip.
The first mile inside the park went pretty well. The roads aren’t marked clearly, but they’re very well-kept, even once they become bikes-and-pedestrians-only. And the scenery can’t be beat. At this point, I noticed that my back tire was a little low. It didn’t have a leak as far as I could tell, but I probably should have given it a pump or two before I left the house that morning. It was a drag (literally), but I didn’t think it was enough to keep me from getting the rest of the way home.
And then my intended route brought me to the foot of a hill that climbed at a nearly vertical angle for a mile and a half. Not surprisingly, I had to push the bike up this monstrosity, feeling a bit like Sam must have felt lugging Frodo up the side of Mount Doom. Like Sisyphus, eternally rolling that fershlugginer boulder uphill in Tartarus. Like Jack, following Jill day after day to help her with that stupid pail of water, hoping beyond hope for a little kissy-face. It was exactly like that.
(Along the way, I met a guy carrying his garbage out to the end of his driveway. “Beautiful night for a ride,” he opined, politely refraining from pointing out that I wasn’t, in fact, riding.)
By the time I reached the top I was completely exhausted. Between getting lost and all that walking, I’d been on the road for an hour and a half and hadn’t even covered 4 miles of my 12 mile trip. I sailed down the other side of the hill at warp speed because damn, why wouldn’t you, but then I called for a dust off.
Fortunately, Trelina hadn’t gone to her bellydance class that night. If she had, I’d have been screwed. I kept moving while she drove out to meet me, pushing the bike up any hills I came to and riding down the other sides. At this point, either the back tire had deflated even further or I just had nothing left to give. It was a Herculean task to ride even when the ground was flat.
Trey caught up with me at about Mile 5, we tossed the bike in the back of her truck, and then she took me to Arby’s to soothe my mangled ego with a roast turkey reuben. That, as they say, is the stuff.
So what did I learn from my brief foray into bicycle commuting?
I was a lot too ambitious. I didn’t - as Dirty Harry taught me I should - know my limitations.
I think biking to work is worth doing at least a couple of times a week - good exercise, fewer cars on the road - but I should have started off by driving part way and biking the rest. There are several places I can park along my route, so that I can slowly build up to the full 12-mile route.
Will this happen before next spring? Probably not, but I should be able to get some shorter rides in before the weather goes completely to hell.
You can bet your ass that I drove into work today, though.