A little bit lighter, a little bit warmer.
This morning was a somewhat typical start. It seems like when I am in my house it sounds/looks like it is raining quite hard, but when I begin riding it is either not raining at all OR it is raining so lightly the wind dries my jacket before the rain can wet it. This morning was that kind of morning. By the time I got to my school, I was not in the least bit wet, although it seems like there was rain falling the whole time. That is Eugene for you. We talk about the rain so much and yet when you really live it, there isn't that much to it.
Anyway, on to the theme, Duck-Duck-Goose. There was a huge amount of water running in the Amazon after the real rain we had over the weekend. The result of all the water was an unusual number of ducks on the path. I happen to love how the ducks stand in the bike path in pairs. I am careful to go around the ducks behind them so they can keep waddling along in the direction their head is pointing. It is not uncommon for me to see a pair or two, but this morning I passed 4 pairs of ducks perched out of the rushing creek on the path.
The other part of the theme is goose. In this case it is more accurate to say geese. As I approached my school I noticed an unusual number of geese circling the fields of Churchill High School. It felt like a great indicator of spring arriving, no offense to the groundhog of 6 weeks ago! On the other hand I spent the entire morning reciting lines from Yeats' "The Second Coming" which although talking about a falcon and a falconer reminded me of the geese circling in an ever tightening gyre. It was a beautiful, engaging, creepy, overwhelming experience to see that many geese (over 2oo) flying in a lose formation, but clearly swirling around in the same direction. I will put the poem below so you can have a little Yeats in your life.
The Second Coming--- W.B. Yeats
TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Monday, March 16, 2009
When your body is your engine
I have been thinking quite a bit about the odd relationship I have with my own body as a bike commuter. Unlike the majority of people who get to work some other way (bus, carpool, car) in the event that my body is compromised, it affects my travel to work. This is made very clear to me this evening as I ready myself for tomorrow's ride.
On most Sunday afternoons I ready myself for the ride by checking over my bike, oiling the chain, testing the brakes, looking over the gear and wiping away the last week worth of grime. Today, as I was giving my bike the check over I bent down to see the tires and my legs screamed because I had gone running earlier. I am training for the Eugene Marathon (May 3, 09) and today I ran a 1/2 for training. While it felt great at the time, now as I contemplate my getting to work, I think I will need to leave a bit earlier in case my legs are sore or tired. This is unique to people who use their body as their transportation. When I go for a run, or play ultimate or whatever, I have to consider the impact that choice will have on my next morning's ride to work. So, tomorrow I will see how the legs feel. I have set the alarm a bit early just in case. I hope to see you on the path...
jeremy
On most Sunday afternoons I ready myself for the ride by checking over my bike, oiling the chain, testing the brakes, looking over the gear and wiping away the last week worth of grime. Today, as I was giving my bike the check over I bent down to see the tires and my legs screamed because I had gone running earlier. I am training for the Eugene Marathon (May 3, 09) and today I ran a 1/2 for training. While it felt great at the time, now as I contemplate my getting to work, I think I will need to leave a bit earlier in case my legs are sore or tired. This is unique to people who use their body as their transportation. When I go for a run, or play ultimate or whatever, I have to consider the impact that choice will have on my next morning's ride to work. So, tomorrow I will see how the legs feel. I have set the alarm a bit early just in case. I hope to see you on the path...
jeremy
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Sheep in the creek
On my way home yesterday, I saw what has been an odd, albeit not totally unique event. Down on the Amazon creek bed, along the Fern Ridge path in between City View and Oak Patch there are two dark brown sheep that graze the flats. The first time I saw them, maybe 4 or 5 months ago I nearly fell off my bike because they look like small bison. Exactly the color of bison (a deep chocolate with darker tips at the end of the "dread" hair) and roughly the right shape, they are only smaller. I have gotten quite used to seeing nutria, feral cats, ducks, heron/crane birds, and the homeless, but these sheep are always alarming. Yesterday, as I rode home with a brisk tailwind I slowed down to look at them as they munched along the bank.
It reminds me of an essay I read in the New Yorker a few years back. An ornithologist was explaining his fascination with "hunting" for bird sightings in New York City. He mentioned that some birds are quite rare as they migrate through the city on their way to wherever they are going. Explaining why he is so adamant about seeing them as they pass through, he likened it to seeing other rare species in the city. Imagine how many people would turn out if there was a mountain lion walking down Broadway or a bison in times square. Certainly a few sheep eating grass in the creek are not a bison in NYC, but the sheep are worth a slow look. If you find yourself in the area in the afternoon, check em out!!
jeremy
It reminds me of an essay I read in the New Yorker a few years back. An ornithologist was explaining his fascination with "hunting" for bird sightings in New York City. He mentioned that some birds are quite rare as they migrate through the city on their way to wherever they are going. Explaining why he is so adamant about seeing them as they pass through, he likened it to seeing other rare species in the city. Imagine how many people would turn out if there was a mountain lion walking down Broadway or a bison in times square. Certainly a few sheep eating grass in the creek are not a bison in NYC, but the sheep are worth a slow look. If you find yourself in the area in the afternoon, check em out!!
jeremy
Monday, March 9, 2009
DST cold morning
March 9, 2009. First Day of DST. 36F cloudy. Sunrise 7:37
As I thought, it was dark on the ride this morning. One of the greatest aspects of riding to work everyday throughout the year is the intimate relationship I have with the weather. I know, for instance, the difference between the rain that will actually get me wet on the ride and the rain that will dry from the wind as quickly as it hits my jacket. I know the slight temperature differences from day to day and morning to evening. I don't want to linger on the weather, as that seems like such a commonplace complaint, but I would like to document my experience with it.
I knew it was colder this morning because my legs first felt it on the walk up my driveway to the street. This morning I was wearing tights and even in them I felt cold. The first part of my ride is down an amazingly steep hill, and in the mornings, this is the most brutal part of the ride. Like jumping into a chipped out hole in the frozen lake surface in northern Minnesota, the first few minutes of riding in the morning are difficult to handle. I simply tuck down, clip my pedals and wait frigidly until the speedometer slows to 21, the point my pedal strokes will contribute to the ride. Above 21 and I am spinning but not helping.
As I ride down the hill I know it is colder because my forehead begins to ache. Like a teenager with a frozen 7-11 mountain dew drink, I got a whopper of a cold headache this morning. Once I start pedaling, however, things start to go better for me. I begin to generate heat and I can feel my body easing into the rhythm. It is at this point I am ready to pay attention to the world around me. The chill in the air is reflected throughout the ride in various ways. The first is the gentle white coating that covers lawn, rooftop and car window. Frost is one of the earliest signs it will be a particularly cold ride. This morning the tall plants that line the Amazon creek alongside the bark trial on East Amazon were coated in a delicate white frost, like feathers from a downy chick.
If I didn't realize it was a bit colder by now, the steady stream of steam coming out of my mouth will tell all. By the time I get to work, my beard and moustache will be soaking wet and dripping, and my hands will be blocks of ice. I wear one of three pair of gloves each day and today I was working the Smartwool/Leather gloves. Big, warm and comfy, but today the cold won the battle as I had lost most feeling in the fingers by the fairground.
Perhaps the best part of the DST rides is that I am on the Fern Ridge path by the time the sun rises. With the artificially controlled time, I have become more likely to see the sun rise and all its comlimentary sky-shows. This morning the sun had to compete with the clouds and each had clearly won at least once.
What I wore to ride today: Black running tights, white "tech" t-shirt, orange MEC longsleeve running shirt and my REI Randonee jacket. On my feet I wear regular socks and my mountain bike clipless pedal shoes. I wear gloves and a helmet (ALWAYS!!) and my iPod. This morning I wish I had brought a forehead warmer!
Gettin' there with two wheels,
jeremy
As I thought, it was dark on the ride this morning. One of the greatest aspects of riding to work everyday throughout the year is the intimate relationship I have with the weather. I know, for instance, the difference between the rain that will actually get me wet on the ride and the rain that will dry from the wind as quickly as it hits my jacket. I know the slight temperature differences from day to day and morning to evening. I don't want to linger on the weather, as that seems like such a commonplace complaint, but I would like to document my experience with it.
I knew it was colder this morning because my legs first felt it on the walk up my driveway to the street. This morning I was wearing tights and even in them I felt cold. The first part of my ride is down an amazingly steep hill, and in the mornings, this is the most brutal part of the ride. Like jumping into a chipped out hole in the frozen lake surface in northern Minnesota, the first few minutes of riding in the morning are difficult to handle. I simply tuck down, clip my pedals and wait frigidly until the speedometer slows to 21, the point my pedal strokes will contribute to the ride. Above 21 and I am spinning but not helping.
As I ride down the hill I know it is colder because my forehead begins to ache. Like a teenager with a frozen 7-11 mountain dew drink, I got a whopper of a cold headache this morning. Once I start pedaling, however, things start to go better for me. I begin to generate heat and I can feel my body easing into the rhythm. It is at this point I am ready to pay attention to the world around me. The chill in the air is reflected throughout the ride in various ways. The first is the gentle white coating that covers lawn, rooftop and car window. Frost is one of the earliest signs it will be a particularly cold ride. This morning the tall plants that line the Amazon creek alongside the bark trial on East Amazon were coated in a delicate white frost, like feathers from a downy chick.
If I didn't realize it was a bit colder by now, the steady stream of steam coming out of my mouth will tell all. By the time I get to work, my beard and moustache will be soaking wet and dripping, and my hands will be blocks of ice. I wear one of three pair of gloves each day and today I was working the Smartwool/Leather gloves. Big, warm and comfy, but today the cold won the battle as I had lost most feeling in the fingers by the fairground.
Perhaps the best part of the DST rides is that I am on the Fern Ridge path by the time the sun rises. With the artificially controlled time, I have become more likely to see the sun rise and all its comlimentary sky-shows. This morning the sun had to compete with the clouds and each had clearly won at least once.
What I wore to ride today: Black running tights, white "tech" t-shirt, orange MEC longsleeve running shirt and my REI Randonee jacket. On my feet I wear regular socks and my mountain bike clipless pedal shoes. I wear gloves and a helmet (ALWAYS!!) and my iPod. This morning I wish I had brought a forehead warmer!
Gettin' there with two wheels,
jeremy
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The first day of daylight savings
Hello Bike commuters and bike commuter-lovers,
I am launching this blog on the evening before the first ride of DST. UGH!! While I will no doubt enjoy the later evening light with my daughter at the playground, my morning ride just got dark again. I have been riding to work everyday since school started last September (I have had to drive 3 days so far, once because of needing to bring heaps of stuff to school, once because the ice-storm made the bike lanes a death-trap, and once because I had to be at a different school immediately after my school day ended.) Some details about my ride:
--I ride a gray SWOBO single speed with pink fenders and handlebar grips
--I ride to work at 7:15am and home around 4:45pm
--sometimes I have a trailer (empty to work, full of 2.5 year old daughter after work)
--my commute is 7.5 miles to work, 7.5 back home, 12 home if I am on daughter pick-up
--So far this school year I have ridden just over 1500 miles
--I have gone through 4 tubes, and one tire so far.
--I ride with an iPod shuffle, soft enough that I can hear approaching bikes, dogs and cars
--I wear glasses, which fog and bead on rainy days until I wipe them with my glove.
--Of my 7.5 miles, 5 are on paved bike path (amazon and fern ridge)
--I have nearly hit the following so far: an already dead opossum, 2 nutria, many ducks, many can-collectors with large shopping carts full
--I have nearly been hit by: cars, trucks, can-collectors, school busses, city busses and SEHS students getting off the bus and not realizing they are walking on a bike path
Tomorrow will be the first day of the active blog, enjoy. Comments are welcome.
jeremy
I am launching this blog on the evening before the first ride of DST. UGH!! While I will no doubt enjoy the later evening light with my daughter at the playground, my morning ride just got dark again. I have been riding to work everyday since school started last September (I have had to drive 3 days so far, once because of needing to bring heaps of stuff to school, once because the ice-storm made the bike lanes a death-trap, and once because I had to be at a different school immediately after my school day ended.) Some details about my ride:
--I ride a gray SWOBO single speed with pink fenders and handlebar grips
--I ride to work at 7:15am and home around 4:45pm
--sometimes I have a trailer (empty to work, full of 2.5 year old daughter after work)
--my commute is 7.5 miles to work, 7.5 back home, 12 home if I am on daughter pick-up
--So far this school year I have ridden just over 1500 miles
--I have gone through 4 tubes, and one tire so far.
--I ride with an iPod shuffle, soft enough that I can hear approaching bikes, dogs and cars
--I wear glasses, which fog and bead on rainy days until I wipe them with my glove.
--Of my 7.5 miles, 5 are on paved bike path (amazon and fern ridge)
--I have nearly hit the following so far: an already dead opossum, 2 nutria, many ducks, many can-collectors with large shopping carts full
--I have nearly been hit by: cars, trucks, can-collectors, school busses, city busses and SEHS students getting off the bus and not realizing they are walking on a bike path
Tomorrow will be the first day of the active blog, enjoy. Comments are welcome.
jeremy
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