Carbon Fork

Pedal to Preserve (Pour On the Heat!)

Jeff and I biked Pedal to Preserve last week, a ride we've not done before. It was for a good cause, and I'm glad we did it, but boy, did we get BROILED. It was gawdawfully hot, and by the time we were done, we were DONE. Cooked. Toasted. Fortunately, we elected to do the short version, the 21-mile course. There was a 50-mile option, and up until today dawned, we actually contemplated doing it. Wowee. Good thing we didn't go longer, as it turned out.

The ride itself was a typical Lancaster County ride. We covered many roads we've been on in the past, of course, some of them we could probably do in our sleep. There were a couple of water stops -- mostly water, not much in the way of snacks. (That's OK; always, always carry your own, that's my motto.) Pictures? Of course!

Cows! Always my favorite subject:

MoooOOOOooo to you, too, madame! I am NOT La Vache Qui Rit! Rather, I am -- how you say -- très taciturn!!

Water stop:

Plowing the fields:

Amish wagon ahead; let's pass it!

Heading on down . . .

The open road.

Schule Weeg:

Now . . . I did mention something earlier, along the lines of "as it turned out." Well, here's what turned out.

The morning after the ride, Jeff came downstairs, after having slept in for a bit. As he moved past me into the kitchen proper, he said, "My lower lip feels funny, like it's swollen." I took a look.

Yikes! It was HUGE! "A LITTLE swollen?? How long has it been like this?" I demanded. "Oh, it was a little big last night, I think, but it apparently got worse overnight," he mumbled. "Why didn't you say something LAST NIGHT!?" I shrieked. "It didn't seem important."

Ok. Ok. Jeff's having an allergic reaction . . . but to what? He's decidedly un-allergic. Heat? Sun? Dunno. I called our doc, and got patched through to the weekend warrior-MD (not our regular physician). I explained the situation, and then passed the phone over to Jeff, who answered a few questions, wrote down a couple of things, and then passed the phone back to me. Short answer: it was probably some sort of allergic reaction, as I figured -- the solution was to take some Aleve, and go get some Zyrtec.

After showering up -- during which I discovered that Jeff had large welts all over his midsection in addition to a swollen lip -- off we went to Walgreen's. After more than an hour, we finally left the store with some Wal-Tec, Walgreen's generic version of the Z drug. (I will spare you the drama of actually buying the stuff: inadequate staff, being given the wrong drug, having to turn right around and return it, and reaming out the manager over the slooow service.) Twelve hours later, Jeff's lip was pretty much back to normal. I had him take Zyrtec (excuse me, Wal-tec) for a two more days. We both figured that was the end of that. Sun reaction, mystery solved.

Two days later, though, I noticed that Jeff would welt up a bit around the midsection after his shower, in reaction to the heat of the water. "Gosh," I thought to myself, "maybe it wasn't sun . . maybe it was the heat." It was a very, very hot day, after all. But why now? We've biked in extreme heat before. Then, something else clicked in my mind: maybe it wasn't just the sun or the heat. Maybe Jeff was developing a reaction to Zoloft, despite having been on it for 2 years. I told Jeff to email his psych. She immediately responded, confirmed it could be a developing allergy, and asked him to immediately discontinue Zoloft and come see her ASAP.

Jeff is now on Prozac. His doc said that the next time, it could be worse -- his throat could close up. Prozac's effective dose is many, many fewer milligrams than Zoloft's. So far, so good. It seems to be as effective, so far, and we're not seeing any weird reactions.

Hopefully, the next really, really hot ride will be uneventful, other than for the cold beers afterward.

Tsk, Tsk. How People Do Throw Their Money Away . . .

This is $2.25. I found about half of it at one intersection on this morning's ride, and the rest near a bus stop on Rt. 28. Given how beat-up all the coins are, they obviously have been lying around more than a day or two. Guess nobody else bothered to pick them up . . . or never even saw them. (Oh, the view you get from a bike.)

The US Mint says these are "mutilated coins." No kidding. (There may be one or two "uncurrent" coins - those that are recognizable and can be machine-counted.) Mutilated currency can be redeemed at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing; mutilated coins, apparently, have to be sent to the US Mint in Philadelphia. Here is a FAQ on redemption.

Looks like I need to have a minimum of 1 lb per denomination, though, to mail 'em in. Oh, well. Guess we'll see which ones are "machine-countable," next time we dump a load of change into Commerce Bank's Penny Arcade. Perhaps the bank will be kind enough to redeem the rest.

Cool as this morning's find was, it doesn't trump the time I found a $10 DC Metro farecard at a New Jersey Turnpike rest stop. THAT was amazing.

Smooth

Until I went out this morning on my newly gussied-up bike, I hadn't realized the sad shape my shifters and brakes were in. I was used to a bit of a difficult shift -- having to push hard to click the real derailleur into the next position. They worked, and they didn't grind. Seemed OK to me.

Well, they weren't. Wow. What a difference. Now, my gears shift fluidly. The guys at Revolution Cycles installed the new GORE™ RideOn® Sealed Low Friction cables, front and rear. "Completely protected from the elements by continuous liner and GRUB™ Seals. Patented cable coating technology designed for low friction and durability." No kidding. Moving from one cog to the other is now so smooth, it's like a knife through soft butter. Amazing. It's clear that this system was originally developed for mountain bikes, but it works well on a road bike, too -- especially if you end up riding in rain and on soggy streets, like I sometimes do.

I also got new brake cables and housing (they were bad too, it turned out), a new chain complete with a master link for easy removal, and a through clean-and-lube.

My baby's so beautiful now . . .

PS - isn't this just the best bike shop picture EVER? Taken on our trip to Rome in February.

Oh, My Baby's in the Shop . . .

There's something about gloomy skies and solo Sunday rides. Something that always seems to go wrong, that is. Usually, it's a flat. This time, it was worse.

Yesterday, I was supposed to have my second inline skating lesson . . . but threatening skies and incipient rain caused my instructor to cancel. I didn't find this out, of course, until after I'd showed up in Rock Creek Park (me and another class member), skates over my shoulder, bikes and hubby in the car, ready to ride through the park and into DC after the lesson.

So, what to do at 9:30 in the morning, when there's no skating lesson and it's still not warm enough to ride? Well, go to Caribou, of course, and wait for it to warm up! So, off we went, and spent a pleasant hour or so over coffee and books. I managed to finish Born on a Blue Day, by Daniel Tammet, an autobiography by a high-functioning autistic/Aspergers gentleman of how he perceives the world.

Only thing was . . . one hour later, it was no warmer, and there was a wicked breeze blowing (but no rain, thankfully). Relying on weather.com, I really had dressed for high 50s/low 60s, not low, windy, clammy and damp 50s. Ugh. Well, OK, we said to ourselves, let's go have lunch, and maybe it'll be warmer by the time we're done.

Off we went again, this time to Arlington and Ravi Kabob, one of the best little hole-in-the-wall Pakistani kabob joints you'll ever have the good fortune to stumble across. After chicken kabobs, rice, chickpeas, and naan, we went outside . . . into the same gloomy, cold day we'd just left. Still no rain, but raw.

We decided to go home. So much for Rock Creek Park, DC, and beyond. Another day.

Once we got back, I opted to do some inline skating practice. Remembering my terror at the small declines on the last parking lot I'd practiced on (stopping is a Very Important Skill I'm still working on mastering), I went to the nearby tennis courts. They have the advantage of being mostly flat, with a chain link fence for emergency stops . . . but they are a little too smooth. The heel brake takes longer to engage (and makes a horrible tooting sound, to boot).

While I was there, a tennis instructor showed up and informed me that I was not supposed to be using the courts for anything but tennis. He pointed out a sign, well above my short li'l head, that I'd failed to notice. But he did say he'd not need the court for about another half hour, so I kept up the practice, telling him that I just needed the stopping power of the court's chain link fence for another session or so. Really, I am going to get this braking thing down.

After I'd had my fill of skating, I trudged back home, hauled my bike out of the car and told Jeff I was going for a ride. I'd changed into UnderArmour, was feeling warmer, and wanted to shake the blues off my body. Off I went.

As I tooled down Route 28, my usual course, I noticed I was having trouble shifting the rear derailleur. I'd click the lever, but nothing would happen. I'd click it again, and the chain would (reluctantly) move. Huh. Not good. I continued down the road, turning onto Seneca, testing the lever several times more. By the time I got to my turnaround point, I figured I'd better take a look at the cables. Something was definitely not right.

And indeed it was not. I spent several minutes looking at the cable, and the insertion point into the brake calipers. I tried clicking the lever up, then down. Suddenly: CLICK! Oops. that didn't sound good. Sounds like something broke. Oh, yeah, something did break. Look, the cable housing came right out of the caliper! This cable's busted, for sure.

The problem with busting a rear derailleur cable? You're effectively in high gear, with no way of shifting out of it. Hills are a bitch, and even getting started is hard.

Time to call out the cavalry. I dialed Jeff at home. "Hey, I busted a cable. Can you come and get me? Oh, and can you see if Revolution Cycles is open?"

About 20 minutes later, Jeff showed up in the old RAV. Fortunately, I'd called at the end of the Mets game (they won). We loaded the bike and headed off to Revolution. I tried calling them, but T-Mobile's 411 could not find it. At. All. Oh, well . . . they will either be open, or not.

Yes! They were open: 'til 6 pm, both Saturday and Sunday. I wheeled my baby in, and signed up for front and rear cable replacement, chain replacement, and a full cleaning and tuneup. I was planning to do all of this anyway, soon; my bike's got 9,000+ miles on it and I need my baby to be in top shape for summer event riding.

She should be healed and ready for pick-up Wednesday evening. Yeah!

In the meantime, if the weather ever clears up (rain did put in an appearance, after all), I'll go out on my old Panasonic a couple of times. The old girl's probably feeling a bit neglected.

Icicle Ride

The Icicle Metric is next week, but I'm not sure I need to do it . . . I think I did it today.

Seriously, the weather today was wacko. That clipper system that dumped a ton of snow on the Midwest is passing us by; we're on the southern most edge (fortunately). Weather.com shows extensive rain and ice just over the Pennsylvania border. We haven't gotten any real precip today, but we've had some spits here and there -- anything from rain, to sleet, to huge snowflakes. It's sunny, then it's dark and threatening . . . and then sunny again.

I didn't go out until midafternoon - it was 46 degrees and breezy, but I needed to take a break from cleaning the shower with weapons-grade bathroom cleaner. (All these years I've been using this stuff and NOW the label says that it can be "harmful if absorbed through the skin"??) It was a quick ride - out Seneca and back, with a stop at Starbucks. I really hauled ass, and managed to break a 14 pace, for the first time this year since Florida.

On my way back, I saw a kid on a sidestreet, bouncing about on a pogo stick - how cool! I didn't know they still made those. I had one, once. My Dad bought it for me . . . and as was typical of my Dad, he bought one that he thought would be comfortable for HIM (never mind what I thought). It didn't have a bar at the top; it had a ball, about the size of a softball. I remember him telling me that he thought that would be easier to grip. Um, no, Dad. It wasn't.

Funny . . . I don't remember whatever happened to it. I probably tired of it quickly, and it ended up in the basement.

Speaking of sports equipment other than bikes . . . next month I begin inline skating lessons. I'm really looking forward to this; I loved rollerskating when I was a kid. Not only will skates give me an alternate way to tear down shared-use paths, they're much easier to pack. I want to take 'em to California, Illinois, wherever. Jeff can rent a bike, and I can skate. Rental bikes just do not fit me AT ALL. The few times I've rented 'em, I've been pretty miserable. Even in the Cotswolds -- cycling past impossibly cute thatched houses just isn't much fun when you nearly disfigure yourself every time you dismount.

Oh. Just kidding about the Icicle ride. We'll definitely do it, unless the weather sucks in a stupendous way.

W&OD

It's still not quite warm enough yet for morning rides (or perhaps I've become a wuss, after this cold winter). But it's now light enough in the evening - and warm enough - to do evening rides after work. Yippee!!

Monday evenings, Jeff plays bridge in NoVA. I usually go to do a spin class and then wait for him . . . but why go spin when I can bike outdoors, for real?

So, this morning, I packed my bike in the car, along with 50-temps weather gear. Jeff picked me up after work, and I made the trek to the W&OD in Falls Church, without incident (which for me means not getting lost or making a wrong turn) . . . but not without some trepidation. Jeff's the human GPS; I'm not. We live in Maryland, and while I can drive OK in VA with some preparation, I tend to misplace roads -- as in major highways -- from time to time. I simply cannot, for the life of me, remember driving routes I've not driven for a while; it's not a talent of mine.

So, late this afternoon, I began obsessing: will I remember how to get to the Knights of Columbus (bridge game) at 10 pm? Can I find my way to Falls Church? What about Clarendon??? I pulled up Google Maps, as well as a map of the W&OD. Argh. Where's Route 29? How do I get from Route 7 to Wilson Blvd? As time ran down and I had to change clothes and leave, I printed out a couple of maps, and continued to wrack my brain.

Once in the car, I said to Jeff, "I'm not sure how to get to the KofC. It's been a while. I turn at Glebe Road, right? Then I get to 29 . . . and I turn where?"

Jeff: "Harrison Street. Where the Harris Teeter is."

Me: "Oh, yeah. I can never remember the name of that street. Harrison . . . Harris Teeter. Why can't I remember that? 29 goes to Falls Church, right?"

Jeff: "It goes right to Route 7 -- in the middle of Falls Church."

Me: "Oh, yeah. I remember now. And do I turn left, or right, to get to the trail?"

Jeff: "Right. Outbound. Look, all you have to know is two roads: 29 and 7. It's not hard."

Me: "For you it's not, but I'm incapable of remembering a route after several months have passed. It gets all fuzzy in my brain, I get confused, and misremember."

Jeff: "You'll remember when you see it."

Me: "OK, I guess. Now, I have to make sure I can get back to Clarendon to wait for you at the usual Starbucks. I go back on 7 and turn at Seven Corners, and I have to watch that I don't end up on 50."

Jeff: "Why don't you go to the Starbucks in Falls Church . . . you know, the one where the Original Pancake House is. You'll waste a lot of time driving back to Clarendon."

Me: "OK, good idea. Now, is that before or after where the trail is?"

At this point, Jeff stifles a sigh. "It's before. You'll see it. There's a Panera nearby, remember?"

Me: "Oh, yeah." (I say this a lot, apparently.)

And, I did indeed find everything OK -- I did not, as I said, get lost or make a wrong turn. I actually parked right next to the trail in Falls Church, on a sidestreet. I unpacked my bike and set off around 6 pm.

. . . and then promptly turned around. I'd forgotten to switch to my Oakleys, and my pitiful little street glasses were doing nothing to protect my dry eyes. After switching eyewear, I set off again.

We've biked the W&OD several times of late, but always farther out -- Reston or Vienna, and beyond. I hadn't been on the stretch of trail from Falls Church to Vienna for a while . . . and there are some improvements. Better signage, for one -- cross streets are now not only labeled with street names, but also city: Dunn Loring, Falls Church, Vienna. Also, there appear to be more benches and rest areas, and a new (to me, anyway) bright blue parcourse.

The trail was not too crowded; a few walkers, a few cyclists. No one passed me, though I passed a few other cyclists. I felt good, despite the fact that I did 40 miles this past weekend with little preparation. I saw a deer near the trail; he (or she) bounded off into the woods. I smelled a couple of lit barbecues -- mmm, I love the smell of a fire, whether it be wood, or charcoal.

I only had daylight enough for about an hour's ride. I did an hour and 15, a little over 17 miles' worth. I didn't quite break a 14 pace, but that I attribute to the multiple stop signs along that section of the trail. On the way back, I turned my headlight on, for greater cross-street visibility. I finished at 7:15, about at sunset (though it was a little cloudy at that point).

After packing up the bike, I drove to the Falls Church Starbucks, and spent nearly a couple of hours reading my new weight training book, and planning a new lifting routine. Unfortunately, that Starbucks closes at 9:30 -- I explored a bit after I got kicked out, and found another one that stays open until 10. Also, the Panera appears to stay open late, so maybe next week I'll have dinner after my ride, rather than before.

I think this will be my new Monday routine for a while -- sure beats spinning class on F Street.

Windy Morning

This morning, it was 64 degrees. At 5:30. Time for a ride. Wahoo! I put on my bike duds (UnderArmour) and hit the street. These warmish winter days are really rare, and they must be taken full advantage of.

The streets were a little wet, but I didn't get rained on. Guess it must have rained overnight, tho' the cars really didn't have any droplets on 'em. Huh. (Jeff later confirmed that it must have rained in early a.m. . . . he told me he got up in the middle of the night to put out the trash for pickup.)

There was also wind. No, not horrible, leg-busting wind, not like that one Lancaster ride we did last year where we had trouble even going downhill. This was a wild, swirling wind, almost like what you get in March. I love it. There's something about riding at night, in the wind, that really appeals to me. (Now, don't tell me I was a bat in a former life. They're blind, y'know, and they don't get any style points for wearing brownish black.)

I had to stop at my Starbucks, of course, and get a mocha . . . iced . . . shaken, not stirred. My UnderArmour and shell jacket were enough to counter the wind while riding, but I did get a little chilled, just sitting on the Sbux bench with an iced drink.

On the way back, a car courteously tried to let me ahead of him at a rather bad intersection -- I waved him on. Problem with that road is, once you get through the light, the road necks down AND it's in bad shape. I have to ride in the middle for maybe 50 feet or so. I did appreciate the gesture, but most of the time, I do like it when cars do what I expect them to . . . go ahead of me when I'm hanging back to let 'em pass.

Don't know if I'll get to do this again tomorrow. I think we are supposed to have torrential rains later today. (Better'n snow.)

Feeling Sorry For Myself

Ugh. It's been so cold lately. And we have snow that just won't LEAVE! (My house has the most; it's a little known fact that the snow in Montgomery County melts last on my little plot of ground.)

I'm into major withdrawal. WAAAAHHH!!

Anyway . . . I haven't done any cardio for the past 3 days, just because I was in such a funk. So today, I kicked myself in the butt and went down to the dungeon basement, and did 45 minutes on my spinning bike, to the rhythm of my iPod.

I feel better now. :-)

My second glass of wine probably has something to do with that, too.

Maybe tomorrow, if it doesn't decide to snow again . . .

Pedaling in Pinellas County

For the first time in years, Jeff and I were able to take a 2-week vacation this year. December/January is our Florida vacation time, and as we can’t spend more than a week at Baytree, we decided this year to go to the Gulf Coast. We found an incredibly convenient hotel in Dunedin, right on the 45+ mile Pinellas Trail.

What could be better?

Why, nothing, of course!!!

We had a great time. We biked over 150 miles in 5 days, including 45 miles (me, anyway; Jeff did 30, as I biked to and from the ride start) with the Suncoast Cycling Club, on the Saturday we left. The Pinellas Trail is a great connector. Martin County, where we usually vacation in Fla, has nothing like it, and if you want to bike distances there, you either have to take your life into your hands on less than optimal roads, or else haul the bikes to where you want to go.

Pinellas County, though, has not only some great trails, but also an extensive bike lane system, more extensive than Martin County. We weren’t restricted to the trail; we biked to the shore, to a couple of Starbucks (well, what did you expect?), and to downtown Clearwater.

It’s amazing how far you can go, effortlessly (and how fast) when all the miles are flat. (Well, the trail does have overpasses, and Floridians consider these to be part of a HILL ride.) I don’t think we did less than 20 miles a day, and usually much more.

Scenes from a Pinellas County biking vacation . . .

Nothing like having a neighborly Tiki Bar in your back yard. This one fronts onto the Pinellas trail in Dunedin, and on Christmas Day, it was actually open (TV blaring and all). The neighbors must love this guy.

The Starbucks we "adopted" for our stay. It was, blessedly, open on Christmas, as there were few other pee stops to be found.

Neener, neener, neener . . . sitting outside the Palm Harbor Starbucks on a balmy Christmas day. (Wow, my handlebar needs a rewrap job.)

View of the ocean from the top of a "hill" in Palm Harbor. Yes. Waaay in the distance.

A delightful day, and a beautiful trail.

A "hill" on the trail:

The Pinellas trail has nice railroad-y signs announcing each town:

 

Tarpon Springs is a little (unfortunately quite touristy) Greek town, formerly the center of the sponge industry in Fla.

It was about 10 miles north of where we were staying; we biked to it once on our own, for lunch and baklava, and a second time with the Suncoast group (it was early and the bakery was closed, dammit). My Mom visited the town years ago, on a visit to see her best friend, sometime in the 70s. She brought back a little Greek fisherman's cap for my Dad, which he wore just about until he died. (I still have it.)

Mykonos . . . highly recommended, and truly good.

Me . . .

Jeff . . .

And the town, all decked out in Christmas.

I kid you not: a "sponge" Christmas tree, set up by a homeowner on a back street.

 

Dunedin itself had a lovely little downtown, and a public fishing pier. This birdie just stood around waiting to be fed . . .

And so did this guy.

South of Dunedin, we found a nice bike shop with a great message. (One of the shop employees said the message was put up to jerk the owner's chain; he apparently needs to drop a few pounds.)

One of the parks/rest stops on the Pinellas.

Sunset over the Gulf. (No, not on the trail; we were driving to Sarasota.)

Biking’s not nearly as fun, of course, unless there’s great eats. Besides Mykonos, here’s where we ate, and what we thought (most of these were from suggestions made by the many helpful and knowledgeable denizens of Chowhound):

Dunedin Brewery -- nice brewpub, with some strooong brews. I had an apricot pint (6%),  then I had to try their their cherry-flavored Christmas beer (8%). Good thing we were walking. OK. I might have staggered a bit.

Kelly’s Chic-a-Boom -- decent enough place; we just wanted a snack after the brewery stop. I had a cheese plate and a glass of wine. Nice outdoor covered patio, with heaters. Kelly's bills itself as Tampa Bay's state-of-the-art martini bar. I'd had too many brews, though, to sample any.

Jolly Mon -- really great Key West/Jamaican eatery right by our hotel AND the Pinellas trail . . . more visible from the trail than the road, really. The Suncoast club oftentimes eats there after rides, so we had a nice lunch after biking with them on Saturday. Their french fries set the standard for all subsequent french fries I'll ever again eat (Jeff said their fish sandwich did likewise for him). Their jerk chicken is also awesome. Pretty much all the outdoor tables were filled up with cyclists in full mufti.

Ceviche -- tapas bar in St. Petersburg, with another location in Tampa. We sat outside and had a number of small dishes, including steak, rice, green beans (not that great), and a few other bits and pieces. Excellent.

China Yuan -- authentic Chinese restaurant serving the real thing . . . we were the only non-Asians in the restaurant. Great dim sum, noodle dishes, whole fish.

Vizen -- outstanding sushi, in a nondescript little strip shopping center in Sarasota. Recommended highly by Chowhound. Fabulous presentation and creativity, and the prices were not out of the ordinary, even though there really weren't that many tables in the place. SillyGoose has a good review here.

Cristino's Coal Oven Pizza -- good pizza, though not a huge variety of toppings. High heat makes a wonderfully crispy crust, and this was among the better pizzas we've had. Wood-fired pizza joints are everywhere, but we are only now starting to notice coal-fired places. Cristino's web site says the pizzas cook in less than 5 minutes. Wow. That's a hot oven. Don't try this one at home.

Hellas Bakery -- in Tarpon Springs . . . we went there for baklava right after eating at Mykonos. We went back on Saturday to get more baklava to cart with us to Stuart. They make these round jobbies, thick, heavy, about the size (and weight) of a hockey puck. Um . . . they also come drenched in chocolate.

3,000

A couple of weeks ago, I really thought I had a shot at logging 3,000 miles this year. But as soon as I voiced that thought, of course, events (i.e., the weather) began to conspire against me.

So, here it is December 15, and I need 230 miles to make it to 3K by 12/31. I don't think I'll make it. I am taking 3 days off this week, but I'll be able to ride maybe 20 miles each day IF I am lucky. And while we will be going to Florida on the 22nd, I don't think my knees would take nearly 200 miles in 7 days.

Oh, well, it was a nice thought while it lasted, I guess.

I should make it to 2,800, and maybe even 2,900. That is far and away more than I've done in any previous year. Not bad, considering I had knee surgery on February 2, and was off the bike several weeks as a result.

I am hoping that next year my knees will graciously permit me to do a multi-day ride. I've got my eye on FANY -- I'd love to ride with one of my WW friends, who's now done it 2 years in a row.

I did get out today, for a quick 16 miles . . . it was cold and cloudy. And tomorrow it will rain torrential buckets, and we'll have 50 - 60 mph winds.

See what I've been up against?

I hate winter. Love to watch snow fall, but I want it gone 5 minutes after the flakes stop falling.