Like buttah

Loaded down for this morning's commute.

There's something about the loop frame that makes me appreciate the world around me more than I ever did on the hybrid. I haven't decided if it's the upright posture, the lady-like step-through mounting, or something entirely different. And aside from a short bout of Cat 6 racing -- there were commuters riding in the same direction as me: I was morally obligated! (And I won.) -- I kept my ride at an relaxed pace and arrived at my destination barely glowing from the exertion.

Aaahhh.

Scott asked me, just before her maiden voyage, if I was going to get a cycling computer for the C8. No, I don't think so. He said that he was mostly kidding. I replied that I'd given serious thought to it and eventually decided that I wouldn't because, to me, it would ruin the experience of such a lovely ride. I don't need to be so analytical and goal-oriented on my commutes and leisure rides.

We'll see how long this zen attitude lasts.

Thank you!

Many, many thanks to Rootchopper of A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel for the donation to my fundraising effort for the American Diabetes Association. You've helped put me at 18% of my goal. THANK YOU!

In other news, today's commute was another glorious one. There was a light, warm breeze for most of the trip and birdsong filled the air. I even stopped to listen to a robin perched on the branch of a bare tree. At first I though he was a cardinal because I could see only bright red, but then he turned and I saw the definitive robin profile and brown wings. A couple of commuters smiled at my floral basket (or maybe my bare knees when my skirt hiked up a bit).

Speaking of the skirt, I noticed absolutely no Mary Poppins effect on Smith Switch and Waxpool. In fact, I got more crowded and squished against the curb than usual with vehicles accelerating and passing aggressively. I get more space in jeans and a windbreaker! Hmph. And I am NOT going helmetless to see if that "helps".

I've decided to rename the Ariel as "Lily". I find it rolls off the tongue more easily, and I'm pretty fond of lilies. I'll refrain from renaming her "Tulip" or "Hydrangea" in the future. Maybe.

Social engagement

My friend Co. hosted a Lia Sophia party this afternoon (like Tupperware or Partylite, but jewelry) and I'd been going back and forth mentally on whether I'd drive or bike. As of this morning I was still pretty tired and sore from yesterday's excursion and, for the first time ever, I was not excited about the prospect of riding. The overpass bridges between my house in Sterling and hers in Reston are steep and I was afraid of the mile of playing in traffic I'd have to do between trail and her neighborhood. However, as I showered and dressed my enthusiasm perked back up and I felt jazzed by the challenge of trying something new.

My ensemble of heels, tights, skirt, tank, and bolero (I stowed my cardigan in my bag so it wouldn't be all sweaty) garnered a few stares along the route. I felt so prissy and girly with a bag in my basket and dinging my bell to alert pedestrians I was passing. The overpasses weren't nearly so tough today; probably because I was taking it nice and slow to keep the sweating to a minimum. The playing in traffic part of the trip wasn't nearly as scary as I'd feared it would be, either. Co. and everybody else in attendance at the party were amazed that I'd ridden my bike the 7.5 miles there, and in dressy clothes. Hee!

The first part of the ride home held a bit of excitement, mostly because I had forgotten the number of turn lanes to get onto the street that would take me to the trail and I wound up in the leftmost left turn lane. At the top of the lane, too, with cars stacked up next to me and behind me. Interestingly, I was faster off the line than the truck in the lane to my right. After making that turn and determining that the right lane was open, I signaled and moved over. The car that had patiently stayed behind me continued past at a polite and non-threatening speed. Bless.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful except for being startled by three does leaping across the trail just after I'd crossed the county line. Apparently I have a preferred expletive for deer crossings because it's the same word I used Thursday night.

Eek!

It was full dark again when I left work tonight but I felt little fear with my trusty head- and tail-lights and blinky lights and reflectors and near-fluorescent jacket. Rawr. Traffic was a breeze and I got an appreciative up-and-down look and smile from a cute guy in the SUV next to me at the stoplight. Oh yeah, the plaid skirt, red tights, and red heels got me a LOT more attention than jeans or lycra ever have. Heh.

Once on the trail, I tried not to let the feeling of isolation get to me. I've been able to follow another female cyclist most of the way to Pacific the last two nights, but she wasn't around tonight. I got a little mesmerized by the moon but quickly put my attention back on the trail and made myself not ride ahead of my light.

I'm so glad I remembered to do that since a ghostly, deer-shaped form appeared at the farthest reach of my illumination in one of the darkest parts of the trail. I dinged my bell a few times and the doe startled and jumped off the trail. Unfortunately, a second doe jumped onto the trail. I think my scream scared that one off.

I passed a couple of west-bound commuters further up the trail and hollered "deer ahead!" I didn't hear any screams or crashes, so I guess everyone got past the danger successfully.

There was one semi-casualty this evening, though. I hit a speed bump too fast in the neighborhood across the street and wound up ripping one of the rivets which holds my Basil Mirte's hooks. I heard a grinding crunching sound behind me and the bike shuddered and skidded. I thought I'd popped my rear tire. Nope. The poor, overloaded bag had shifted down and back and the corner was caught in my back spokes. I wasn't happy about that, but at least I didn't have to change a tire for the first time in the dark or walk my bike the quarter mile home. I limped over the other speed bumps (good lord, there are a lot of them in our neighborhood!) and got home without further incident. I should be able to put in a new rivet to fix my bag. I hope so anyway. In the meantime, I'll just use my Basil Shopper as my glove compartment/trunk.

Another experiement with biking in real clothes

It's been nippy in the mornings this week (32F Wed, 39F Thu, 46F Fri) and I decided to ride in regular clothes and give the Lady Cyclist thing another try.

On Wednesday, I wore jeans, cami, cardigan, SmartWool socks, loafers, wool cap, heavy gloves, and a light jacket. I was chilly when I left home, but quite sweaty when I got to work. Stupid overpasses (although, I am grateful not to cross many streets at grade) and the two long, steady inclines just before I get to the campus. Plus, while the hat kept my ears toasty, it trapped too much heat for the rest of my head. My hair was soaked and I kept the hat on until I could spend a fair amount of time in the "privacy" of my cube. Thank goodness I keep a dish towel in my drawer. The ride home in 60F was lovely with the jacket, heavy gloves, and hat stowed in my pannier. I swung up the access path along Pacific to visit the bank and Ulta which gave my legs a rest before tacking my nemesis: the Rte 28 overpass. Clothes were soaked when I got home, but that's okay.

On Thursday, I wore jeans, long-sleeved shirt, SmartWool socks, boots, Buff (to cover my ears), heavy gloves, and a light jacket. My arms were chilly when I left home, but I warmed up quickly. I'm starting to figure out where I can coast and using that to my advantage. I also unbuttoned most of my coat (kept my neck covered) to cool off while playing in traffic during the last mile of my commute. My clothes were mostly dry when I parked the bike, but my hair under the Buff was soaked. *sigh* The afternoon commute was nearly as delicious as the day before, minus the side trip for shopping and plus throwing my chain at the top of the Rte 28 overpass; my clothes were soaked and streaked with chain grease when I got home. I made sure to transfer the baggie of wet wipes from another bag into my pannier for the next post-chain throw clean-up.

I'm making this bike commuting thing sound like fun, aren't I? No really, it is! Plus, if I remember to grab my external speaker thingie for my iPod, I can listen to music or podcasts on the commute. (I am not going to wear earphones while on the bike.)

For Friday, I realized that my third and last pair of jeans was in the hamper. Oh noes! I didn't want to wear my light-colored cotton slacks because they might show super embarrassing sweat spots. I've got to get more dark colored pants. What I did find was the skirt that I wore as part of my cheerleader costume. I picked the orange and white triangles out of the gores, and with the addition of a black cami, black leggings, multi-colored SmartWool socks, black boots, white & black cardigan, and a red scarf I was set to be an elegant-ish Lady Cyclist commuter.

The elegance mostly worked. At least I managed not to get my red lipstick on my cheek, chin, or forehead (which is a total win). My face was flushed and damp, but my clothes were dry. The hair? Well, the hair is going to continue being a problem, but if I get it cut into a choppier style which lets me just shake my head and go, it will be less of a problem. Biking in a skirt? So. Much. Fun. Plus, there was no flashing of an unsuspecting public, whoo hoo!

The Lady Cyclist dream versus my sweaty reality

I am fascinated by the Lady Cyclist movement. That is, women who wear regular work/play clothes while biking instead the Under Armour tees and Canari padded shorts like I do. These women are wearing slacks or dresses and heels whilst biking city streets on their way to their places of work or meeting up with friends at a pub or market. It seems so much more elegant than wearing workout gear. They hop off their bikes, dab away the sweat, and get right to whatever they want to do at their destination. I hop off my bike, lug my trunk bag into the gym locker room, shower, dress, apply make-up, and then settle into my cube while still sweating a bit and being red-faced despite the shower.

I want to be elegant like them.

Monday night, I experimented. Scott needed to run some local errands and I wanted to ride my bike. We combined our needs and wants and rode to the drug- and grocery stores in street clothes. Well, sort of. Scott donned his pair of shorts which look like normal shorts but have a padded bike short liner, a t-shirt, and sneakers. I kept on the shirt, camisole, capris, flats, and jewelry I had worn to work. I'm not wild about riding on Sterling Boulevard and don't like riding on sidewalks -- even though it's legal in Virginia -- now that I'm getting more comfortable with riding in traffic, so we took the scenic route through the neighborhood and rode through parking lots to the drug store. I was huffing and puffing from the hills and a little sweaty. I realized that I should have brought a rag of some sort for mopping up. Oops. Scott, for some bizarre reason, had removed his trunk bag and all groceries went into the basket on the back of my bike. By the time we got home, I was drenched. I'd soaked through my bra and the waistband of my capris wasn't faring much better. The worst part is that it was the cool part of the day and we'd ridden only three and a half miles round trip.

So, I suppose the moral of this story is that I shouldn't try to be an elegant biker just yet. I'm not cruising down the streets of New York or Seattle or Chicago to get to work. I'm cycling past industrial parks and car dealer lots and a golf course and open fields. Plus, I'm lucky enough to have a shower at my destination and I don't have to wear sweaty clothes all day.

However, none of this is stopping me from browsing Cruiser, Townie, and Euro-style bike manufacturer sites and dreaming of being an elegant biker cruising around a picturesque town in a dress and heels.