Collapsible Helmet?

As I wonder around our fair city, on my heavy duty tough guy 400 lb Bikeshare bike, I usually stick to the sidewalks.

Technically? This is not actually illegal in (most parts) of D.C., I learned tonight, after a quick spin around the Interwebs, spurred on by some of you who questioned the legality of such an activity. (And by the way, thanks for the welcome back from all peeps who have NOT forgotten me after all!)

But even though it's not illegal doesn't make it smart. Most of the time.

Here's my rationalization:

a) Most pedestrians are moving faster--way faster--than I am.
2) I'm only going a short distance.
iii) I have no helmet.

Or, more correctly, I have no helmet actually WITH me when I need one.

Take last Saturday, for instance. We strolled about a mile down the hill from our cozy nest to this lovely restaurant for brunch in Cleveland Park. I had some shopping to do afterwards down in Dupont Circle, about 3 miles or a few Metro stops away. But it was such a gorgeous day, I couldn't bring myself to head into the bowels of the earth to ride the Metro. So I hopped on a handy Bikeshare, and boddabing, Bob's your uncle.


View Larger Map

OK, so technically? I do have a helmet, but I don't want to have to schlep it everywhere just in case I need it.

So, as I was swimming tonight (swimming, yes!) I started thinking. "What I need," I thought, "is a helmet that I can fit into my backpack. Or my purse. If I carried a purse. Which I don't. I need a smaller, more compact helmet. Like a folding helmet. Or, even better, a collapsible helmet!"

For some reason, this made total sense to me at the time.

Now, however, in the comfort of my bed, several hours later, I'm sensing there just might be a flaw in my thinking.

I just bet you there's a market for this.

You Should Have Seen the Other Guy*

Setting: One fine May evening.

Activity: Short (but hilly!) 11 mile ride out of Conte's Bethesda.

Partner: The long suffering Michelle from GoMDgirlGo

Location: Second hill, of many.

I am pathetic. I cannot get this freakingfracking chain back on! But I'm digging this greasemonkey look.

You want grease? I got grease.


Cute cyclist-dude stops to help. Takes him 10 seconds. I am happy happy happy! Is there anywhere I don't have grease?? (No, not really. You'd be surprised.)

We cut our 11-mile ride very short. I left the bike at Conte's Bethesda for their spring race tune up ($75!), but sadly, did not remember that I was wearing bike shoes and my car was parked 6 blocks away.

So I did what any normal person would do: I walked 6 blocks in my socks, past the tony shops and chic diners lining the sidewalks of Bethesda Row.

What, you think that's WEIRD?

*No, really, you should have!

So Much Fun It Should Be Illegal

How come no one ever told me how much FUN triathlons are? HOW COME? I want answers.

D.C. Tri held a "brick-nic" today, at Centennial Park in Columbia, Maryland.




What's a brick, you ask? (Remember, there are No Dumb Questions.)

What's a "brick" and why is it named so?

* Bike-Run-ICK!
* That's how your legs feel for the first part of the run.
* Named by Mark Sisson and Scott Zagarino one day in 1988 after they completed a Bike-Run workout -- "Just another brick in the wall".

The "nic" part--well, that's from picNIC. Get it?

The regular part of the club was there, riding and running the course in preparation for the upcoming Columbia Triathlon . The new triathletes were riding the Irongirl course, with a 10-minute run afterwards. A brick.

I have to admit I did NOT want to go. I even called Number One Daughter (OK, R, we'll rename her D¹), to whine about it. I hadn't signed up for it, I was nervous about it (It was Far Away! There were Serious Triathletes there! People I don't know!) and she told me to HTFU and go and do it.

So I did.

I carefully printed out the "cue" sheet (Why is it called that? I have no idea. It's also known as a "map" or "route") and then after feeling very smug for having printed it out, whereas some Other People Did Not, I promptly left it in the portapotty at the meet-up site.

Which wouldn't matter so much if I was going to be say, riding with Other People. And not 100 miles behind.

After much hemming and hawing about "Do I wear the jacket...or not? Will I get hot? But what if it rains. Then I'll be cold," everyone got sick of hearing me and we all left.

We were on some major roads with some major traffic and an itty-bitty shoulder.

I took this while driving the course afterwards. I'm not crazy enough to take pictures while riding! Only while driving.




I felt good and confident. Right up until I reached for the map in my 27 pockets and could find it nowhere.

Sh**!!!!

That got my heart rate up. Especially because one of the tri-club peeps had said about 100 times before we left, "You will get lost without this map."

Somehow I kept catching people at red lights, or whose bikes had broken, or whatever, and got enough directions to keep me on the right path.

Just for the record, I'd like to state that I have NEVER RIDDEN HILLS before. Or run them. Or even seen them. The course was rolling, long, rolling, looooong endless hills. Like this:
Again, afterwards, in the car.

And this:
This was called something like Mount Kill Me Now Road

Which is where I dropped the chain, or it dropped me. Whatever. It fell off is what happened. Luckily, there was another slow-ish woman in front of me, riding with her AWESOME triathlete brother. I yelled (or cried) and this fellow came back and got my chain back on.

I was instantly smitten.

But that was nothing.

John and his sister Barbara took off up the hill and I soldiered on. Only I noticed a high-pitched whining noise, that got faster as I got faster. It was ANNOYING, and it was coming from my bike.

When I got here:
You don't see THAT in Bethesda!

I caught up with them and said "Do you hear something?" as I passed by. Um yeah. They did.

They both stopped and John pretty much took my bike apart. The bike wheel was misaligned or something.

It was VERY interesting:
You seeing what I 'm seeing?

And that's how John SAVED MY LIFE.

Soon it was time to turnaround. I cut my ride short by 3 miles so that I wouldn't keep people waiting.

14.5 miles in 1:30, a whopping 9.67 miles / hour.

It. Was. Awesome.

It was the most fun thing I've ever done in my life.

And the run? Was. Cake.

Cake!!!

Not the usual I-can't-feel-my-legs thing.

And then we had a big picnic, and the next time I get married, I'm doing it in the middle of a triathlon.

A bike store exploded.

A gear store exploded.

L-R, New friends, Lindsey and Sandy, and moi.

The whole group.

And to top off this very long tale, when I got home I discovered a check for $600 in my mailbox, something about an "escrow overpayment."

Now if I were smart and clever, I would totally put that money in my teensy little savings account.

Or if I were smart and clever and spoke Latin, maybe I would say carpe diem, I gotta buy me a lighter bike.

Triathlon Here I Come

Well, I tried. Whoever you are, I hope you got the help you needed. The weird thing is that I know so few people in this area who ride ... well few people who ride who can't change a tire!

But enough about the mystery woman. Back to me.

The weekend started early with Number One Daughter making a quick trip home to do...what? Buy a dress of course! And she needed her mummy! So I took off from work early.

Both of us hate to shop. With a passion. We consider it a form a torture (did I raise her right, or what?!!)

She had another reason for coming home: She's doing some kind of photo project for school and needed a SUBJECT. Knowing how camera shy I am, she picked me. The topic sentence being something along the lines of "old lady mature woman attempts triathlon." So Friday night I hauled the bike up to the trail and rode back and forth while she took action shots; then tossed my helmet aside and ran back and forth.

I learned a few things.

One: I run like a zombie. See for yourself:
See?

I noticed this same phenom last month in the National Half:

What the hell?

So by studying NOD's photos, I've learned that I apparently ... don't know diddly about how to run.

I decided to test the whole move-your-arms-while-you run theory on this morning's run ...and wouldn't you know? I WENT FASTER.

I really wish you people would tell me these things.

After a few thousand shots, we finally got one that show me running with BOTH FEET OFF THE GROUND:
(Now, that's how it's done, people. I think.)

If you want to view the whole ordeal, be my guest. I'm thinking I'll be milking these photos for quite a while.

(Someone please tell me why I look moronic in a bike helmet? Is my head too big? Am I wearing it backwards?? What?!!)

Lots of other cool stuff happened this weekend too, so don't touch that dial.

Bike Me

Yesterday, D.C. Rainmaker generously spent about 14 hours with me (OK, three), teaching me how to change the tire on my bike. And then he taught me how to change the BACK tire, too! Because you know, it hadn't ever occurred to me that the back tire might go flat. There's all that stuff back there. Scary looking, complicated, bike stuff.

But before I ingratiated myself into his headquarters (watch your head or you'll hit the kayaks hanging from the ceiling, no kidding, is there any sport this man can't do??), he had to first TALK ME INTO GETTING THE BIKE INTO THE CAR. Which involved taking off the front tire. I actually printed out his directions and read them while performing. Cuz performing was what I was doing in my parking lot at work (where I keep my bike), trying to read while unscrewing this and moving the seat, and the pedals...well, heck, I'm might as well just share it all with you, should you ever have a need.

Tips for getting bike in back seat of car:

1) Take off front wheel.
2) Move forward passengers seat
3) Open rear passenger side door.
3A) Adjust the pedal so the left pedal is up, and the right pedal down.
4) Insert fork into the car first, in a downward motion towards where the right rear passengers feet would be
5) Right before your fork reaches the midpoint of the car, pull up on it (while now pushing your seat post down into the passenger foot well)
6) The fork should now be behind the drivers seat, angled up and slightly back - close to the left rear window
7) Adjust a bit so that the rear wheel is now in the right-rear foot well. The pedals should be at the mid-point of the car.

In theory, your bike will now be in the car. I can show you the trick as well once you arrive. I've yet to find a car (no matter how small, including some really tiny rentals) that it doesn't work on.

It worked. The man is a genius.

Now for the hard part, getting it back out. Ha.

No, the hard part was the changing the tire part, which, p.s. you are not actually changing at all, you're actually changing the TUBE inside the tire.

(Don't feel bad, we bikers know stuff like this.)

First, he pulled out a box of rubber gloves (I am so not making this up). Then the teensiest tool set I'd ever seen:
(4.99 at Performance Bikes.)

Plus, some tire-taker-off tool thingys:
(4.99 at Performance Bikes.)

This was gonna be good, watching him.

Oh, what's that? Who, me? You mean me? You pointing at ME? In his quiet, laid-back way, he started barking commands: Insert this, move that, squeeze this, align that.

I asked him how long it took him to change a tire. I think he said one minute. After an hour, I finally got the brake thing released. THEN, I started trying to remove the tire. (I could kick myself for not bringing a camera.)

Mr. Rainmaker is the perfect instructor. Unbelievably patient, thorough, and willing to stand by while watching me contort myself to perform the simplest maneuver. Like put a valve through a hole. I mean REALLY, how hard can that be?? I finally finished the front tire, and though it was getting late in the day, D.C. insisted I learn how to change the back tire.

And a few hours later I had finished!!

After accidentally breaking the valve. "Never mind," he said, "It will be good experience for you to change the tube at home." Err, right!

I was so excited I wanted to stop everyone I met and tell them that I, me, Jeanne, now know how to change a flat tire! And, not only that, I could also load a bike into a car. In fact, I did regale my lunch companions today with my prowess.

I feel so...clever! And exhausted!

So, today, I set out to fix the real flat that I had accidentally caused yesterday. Which required a trip to the bike shop to get some tape stuff...nevermind.

And an hour and a half later I had finished!

Obviously on a roll, I then tackled screwing on the cutest little bike pump (I had asked DCR, "Doesn't that require drilling??"), which, no, it did NOT require drilling, it just attached to the holes underneath the bottle holder.

Getting that bike pump holder on was so easy, I started feeling like maybe I just could build a house one day. Tools are our friends!

Carefully examine the two (unretouched) photos below.

(Son of a $#@!!)


(Finally.)

The good news is: I can change a flat tire.

The bad news? By the time I finished, there was no time left to actually RIDE the bike, which I'm just guessing here, is kind of the point of all of this.

And the lesson is: BIKERS ARE AWESOME PEOPLE.

Real World

Well, it's finally happened. The real world has taken over my virtual life.

I had my First Date in, oh, five years, with rower guy last Wednesday, after work, downtown. The short version: We met at a bookstore, it was raining, had coffee, he talked about himself and I didn't. He was very nice, but didn't get my jokes. I consider the date a total success because I learned, after much agonizing and e-mailing of girlfriends, that shoes don't matter. It's true!! So it's not like it was a waste of time or anything.

That's one down, 99 men to go!

Then came:

Saturday a.m.: First day of 1/2 marathon training with the newly formed informal DCRR training group. They were doing three miles. It was raining. I ain't driving 20 miles to run three. I turned over and slept til 8.

Spent the entire morning searching for a restaurant for this group
(R to L: Peter, surrounded by women as usual. K., Bex, moi.)
to celebrate Peter and K's Chicago victories, and Bex's new job and visit to D.C. We ended up at Tallulah: modern. hip. classy. That sums us up nicely. But before Saturday night, there was Saturday Noon. In which your heroine drives to the YMCA where she ... JOINS. I have spent months hemming and hawing about where to swim. They have an outdoor year-round pool at this Y and a special deal where the first month and the membership fee was waived. It was a sign.

Saturday night: Pajama party with Bex. It was wild. We might have had cups of tea. Hard to recall.

Sunday morning: Up at 7 a.m. to get ready for the Marine Corps Marathon. Bex had the brilliant idea to give out candy. So we bought six bags of candy and went from Mile 13 to 15 to 21 to 23 to 24—where the death march began.

(Bex is obviously starving. Those runners look perfectly fine!)

("Alms! Alms for the poor!")

("Take some! It's candy! Really! It's good!")

We both got told "I love you" from different runners. (Can't remember if they were male or female. No matter!) Seriously, I was touched by the runners who, at mile 24, while obviously struggling, took the time to say "No thank you" or just "Thank you." Like we were at the dinner table. I mean really. I remember my first marathon at mile 24 and if I'd had a gun ... well, nevermind. Who knew handing out candy could be so fun?? I also handed out words of wisdom because, well, that's how we roll here at NBTR headquarters. You eat the candy, you get the sermon: "This is your race!" "You own this race!" "Make it count!" and my personal favorite: "It's all mental from here!" to which someone said "All runners are mental?" Well, you said it buster, not I. See more pics here.)

From there, Bex and I walked 26.2 miles to another subway; she headed off to visit some other peeps; I headed off to a lead a hike with my church group, along the C&O Canal near Great Falls, which I was NOT looking forward to, but, which of course, turned out to be fun. After the hike it was yet ANOTHER dinner out at the Irish Inn at Glen Echo. I got home just in time to catch the next installment of Mrs. Pritchard—thank God.

Monday 5:30 a.m.: Day One of Triathlon training! Be very afraid. Cuz I was.

There are so many steps along the way to triathlon training that people forget to tell you. Like:
1. Join pool
2. Get bikini wax

So yeah, I forgot #2. Oh well, turns out it's pitch black dark at 5:30. Oh, also there's
3. Buy swim cap
4. Buy goggles.

So I bought 3 and 4 from the guy on duty (I stopped short of #2).

I headed outside in the 45F moonlit morn, and slid into the pool. And dang, if I didn't remember how to swim! I did 15 x 50. Or 30 x 25 (I'm still learning to speak pool). Took about 1/2 hour. I am blind as a bat so there's
5. Get contact lenses immediately.

That's gonna be some $$$. Contact me (get it??!) if you can donate any used ones.

Monday night: Out to bell-ringing practice (that's after Monday day working. Goes without saying, but I have to keep saying it). Home at 10 p.m.

Tuesday 5:30 a.m.: Run! Four miles! In the dark! Again with the 45F! It felt good. I threw in a few fartleks just for fun. I really love running in the dark. It makes you feel faster.

Work ass off all day.

Go out on yet another worknight to see "I Love You. You're Perfect. Now Change." With a friend.

Start experiencing computer withdrawal. Get home at 10:30, which is akin to midnight.

That brings us FINALLY to

Wednesday 5:30 a.m.: Back to the pool! Same beautiful moonlit morn. Steam rising off the pool. Same laps. I'm practicing bilateral breathing (that's how triathletes say breathe on one side, then on the other), and today I tried to count my strokes. a.j., who unbeknownest to all of us, was some kind of swim champion freak genuis in high school, has been answering my endless stream (get it??) of idiot swimming questions. (aj also sent me free pedals! she rocks!)

For instance, NO ONE TELLS YOU THERE IS MATH INVOLVED IN SWIMMING. NO ONE. Count strokes so you know when to breathe; count strokes to swim one length; count lengths; count laps (btw? laps are TOTALLY different from lengths), count this, count that.

Lose count. Start over.


I LOVE SWIMMING. Love it. I've never had so much energy.

The rest of my week, you ask? Spinning tomorrow morning and then probably running Friday and Saturday. I've got to get my run on! Apparently, after one too many, I inadvertently might have agreed to run this with Susie. I'm sure this is a set up, cuz I just decided to run this the week before! God help me.

Next up: Biking with Jeanne!

We Got Bike

Susie says goodbye. She might look happy but she's crying on the inside.

Yours truly has no mixed emotions whatsoever.

BIKE is now safely ensconced at my office, which is craftily located right next to a bike shop.

I'm jazzed.

In other running news:

Eight miles this morning, and two of them were straight uphill on the Custis Trail. I hemmed and hawed about whether or not to take the watch, but decided at the last minute to wear it in case I needed to run by time instead of distance, since we were coach-less.

I headed out with my friend K., who is faster than me and has a Garmin. She kept me at 10:40 min miles for the first 3 miles. Then she took off. I am proud to say I DID NOT walk for those four miles, not even on the endless, freakin' totally endless uphill. I did slow down, but don't know my pace because we switched trails and the mile markers had all changed. So I ran a total of 48 minutes, which I'm sure was at least four miles.

On the way back, I ran with another strong runner, E. I took two walk/water breaks, but they were on purpose, not at all the kind of thing I've been experiencing, the just-give-up-and-start-walking-for-no-reason thing. Has the SPELL BEEN BROKEN?

My last mile took 11:40, which is fine by me.

But, curiously, I accidentally erased all my splits and my final time once I got back to the car. I guess I secretly didn't really want to know, because, as a famous German father of psychiatry once said: There are no accidents in life.


I did it. A good long hard run, with no iPod either.

Try One Thing Every Day That Scares You

Well said my good and trusty friends!

I (metaphorically) threw away the watch this week, even before I read all your good advice. I ran three miles on Wednesday and Friday morning, before work, sans watch. Ya can't fret about time when you have no idea what your time is. Tomorrow is an eight-miler and I'm pretty sure I'll be doing that watch-free, too, and like all my long runs, I'll do it sans iPod. Just me and my God, who might make another appearance, since the temps are expected to be high 90s. Good times.

I'm still pretty nervous about running, though. But I know that if you do the thing you fear often enough, the fear dissipates. So that's the plan. Just keep running.

Meanwhile, tomorrow is a big day for a few reasons.

First, someone very special is giving me one of these:


That's right! Ask and ye shall receive! I'M GETTING A BIKE! Susie swears she doesn't want it and is GIVING IT TO ME. I can't begin to tell you how excited I am about this. Soon I'll be talking about watts and flats, and all that other jazz. Now all I need to do is learn how to swim. Oh yeah, and run.

And speaking of triathletes, I'll be (sorta) live blogging it over at a.j.'s site this weekend. A.J. is a spectator extraordinaire at Ironman Wisconsin (also known as IMMOO, don't worry, my first job is to find out why it's called that, other than the obvious cow thing), and there are all kinds of meetups and shenanigans planned for the spectators. The plan is for a.j. to call me or text me and I'll do my best to impersonate her over there. Which if I'm going to do it up right, should involve drinking, trying lots of cute hairstyles, and telling funny stories about men. In between working out like a maniac. So, I'm pretty much screwed. (Updates will also be posted on the IM Wisconsin 2007 site, here.)


SHOUTOUT: To my very special peep and bestest friend, Mark, the running blogfather, who is running the Regina, Saskatchewan (that's somewhere in Canada) Marathon on Sunday. Good luck to Mark! And to all the IM Wisconsin folks, too!

My Secret Life

"D.C. Hears Our Cries, Plans for Bicycle Rental Program"
—(from DCist)

Did you know I dream about being a biker? It's true, I do.

Just last night I was very busy bitching to someone about how I don't have the dough for a bike (right now) and then voila (or is it viola?), ta da, maybe someone waived a magic helmet or something, because today I read this (cynically, but with a smidge of hope):

DDOT has announced that it will be launching an automated bicycle rental system in DC in partnership with Clear Channel. Similar to car sharing, the system would allow members to swipe a card and release a bike from a kiosk (DDOT says to think of it as kind of like an airport luggage carts -- but better).

Yeah, we know, Clear Channel is the devil, blah blah but come on, rental bikes! That work like Zipcars! Sounds pretty neat. This sort of arrangement would also do little to offer bikes to tourists, since you'd have to have an account set up to be able to rent one, but if the pricing structure makes sense and they're put in good locations around town, there's more than a few of us who would consider using them.

Tourists? Who cares about tourists?!?!

Yes, I was very busy telling this person that, back in the day, I was quite the biker. In fact, I said, I biked all over Boston for all the years I lived there. Year-round. On itsy-bitsy teensy thin tires on my 10-speed Peugeot that i bought used. (Don't even start talking to me about granny gears—I was thrilled I had any gears.) I biked thru Nor'easters and wind that would freeze your eyeballs and blizzards (for real: how else to see the boyfriend? That a-hole!).

Wait, where was I?

Then I moved to Richmond, Va, where Number One (yes and only, David) Daughter was born. When she turned eight, I bought two bikes (on credit) for $700 and it was the most money I'd ever spent in my life. And then I dragged HER all over creation on family outings.

I even wrote about "Biking with Kids" for the local newspaper.

I was a biker babe!

And then they invented triathlon and I moved to D.C. and I think now I could maybe get a bike for $350 at Wal-Mart. Maybe kid size.

I should look into that.

ADDED: If you live in or around D.C., don't forget to take the survey!

It's All About the Helmet

<rant>
Every single day on the lovely Capital Crescent trail, my trail, I see loads of bikers. Triathlete bikers with all their gear, little old lady bikers with all their gear, fancy-ass D.C.- lobbyists/lawyers on bikes (you can just tell), CIA agents, kids riding to school, and toddlers trucking along with their parents in tow. I can't even begin to count how many of these idiots are wearing their helmets like this:



In fact, just the other day, I saw a girl who was about 10-years-old riding with both her parents (neither one wearing a helmet) wearing her helmet like it was a sun bonnet. She fell splat right in front of me. I immediately went to see if she was OK, and her parents said she's fine, she's fine, and the kid said "I'm fine, I'm fine" and I said, "She needs to wear her helmet corectly because next time, when she falls on her forehead, she might not be so fine," you stupid morons.

Or something to that effect.

What really kills me is when grown-up normal looking people are wearing their helmets like this:


Is that better than no helmet at all?? You bikers out there, tell me!

Cuz every single time I see someone wearing a helmet like they're trying to get a suntan on their forehead, I most desperately want to correct them and thereby, possibly save their lives. (But then, I want to correct most people about something, so there you go.)

I want to say, "People, The Helmet is not an accessory!"

Please wear it like this:


Wow, I'm grouchy.

</rant>

Want a Free Bike?

Um, heck yes!

While waiting in one of my numerous doctors-dentists-oralsurgeon's-offices, I happened to pick up a copy of Bicycling magazine.

Flipping through, I came across a story about an organization that is giving away 50 bikes in several cities this summer: BikeTown.

The Web site is here. You have to write an essay, and the program only operates in several cities, and I'm guessing there are judging criteria (though I couldn't find them), but whatevah! This is a cool program!

Here's the history, which apparently began, like most save-the-world ideas, in California.

About 15 years ago, long before he was primarily known as a wonkish proponent of utility cycling, or the idea that bikes should be ridden to get somewhere rather than for sport, Joe Breeze was downing beers at a party in Northern California...when someone asked, just making party conversation, "Can bikes really save the world?"

"Wrong question," Breeze said. With a hand holding a red plastic beer cup he gestured around the room at the cycling cognoscenti.

"The real question is how can we get enough people on bikes to save the world?" ...

Change lives? You bet. Change the world? ...

If you're in one of the target cities (alas, not I), who knows, you just might qualify. Check it out.