Holy sh*t

I am still flabbergasted.

It was a great post-work, 40+ mile ride, muchly in the dark. Near the end of it all, the manhole cover I rode over must have been a bit deeper set than it appeared.

I hit it, both my hands shot up off my handlebars, I swerved yet maintained immediate control likely due to being clipped in, and caught my handlebars with the insides of my wrists when my arms came back down. I'm amazed I didn't crash to the ground, am even more amazed I didn't crash into Matt, and am very appreciative that he is a totally unflappable rider.

I had been planning on posting either about my sweaty fast ride this past weekend or the pretty yet short fall rides I've taken around town, but really, all I can keep thinking is exactly what I said to Matt after disaster was averted: "Holy Sh*t!"

Caught between two extremes

I spent a lot of time on my bike this past weekend, and then not at all since. Still haven't figured out my new work routine.

Saturday's highlight was a slow moving bike tour of St. Paul buildings designed by Cap Wigington, a lead civil architect of the first half of the 1900s - - a noteworthy accomplishment, given the fact that he experienced a lot of racism as an African American. Coolest thing to learn? He designed most of the winter carnival ice palaces that have ever existed.

We went to a church he'd worked on - St. James A.M.E. (African Methodist Episcopal). Interestingly, the congregation built its first church in 1880 (scraping together gifts averaging $0.55). The first A.M.E. church was started about 100 years earlier after the Methodists were total jerks, in short, to their own church members who were black.

Sunday, I rode as fast as possible to and from yoga, met some Bike MS teammates and did a nice ride that meandered along the Mississippi, ate a great burrito, and bought myself a glass mosaic at the neighborhood art crawl. The mosaic artist has a lot of her stuff on display at the coffee shop where I ate my burrito, and I've been admiring it for months. Her work, not the shop or the burrito. Although I would recommend the burrito without hesitation. Plus the coffee shop now sells beer, which goes great with burritos.

Tonight's MS Society fundraiser event was a good reminder to me of why I do much of what I do on a bike. I'm lucky to be able to support their work.

Excuses, excuses

On the bright side, I do not have a blood clot in my leg again, I managed to get my flu shot, and clinic staff think I am fit.

I *am* curious to know what the heck is up with this weirder-than-my-normal-swollen-ankle-tendonitis-10-day mystery calf pain and new random swollen calf patch.

I was going to take my fat tire bike on a dirt trail tonight. Are leg ultrasounds and the embarrassment of being seen in my least flattering undies the lengths I go to, to avoid trail riding??

Seriously, though, I suspected that all was fine (my only risk factors that are the same as in 2010 are my genes), but if there's anything I learned this year from a good friend's experience is that you don't mess around with the vascular system.

And now, to reschedule that trail ride...

The Power of Music

As we are headed to Duluth to see country/folk musician John Prine [our debate in the car (me: "it's country, admit it"; him: "no, it is folk") was settled by Wikipedia], we are listening to U2's Joshua Tree album again.

Last night's discussion of this tour being the 30th anniversary of the first Joshua Tree tour reminded me that I'm kinda old.

It apparently has been 30 years since I was a freshman in high school, meeting the cool, public-school skateboarding boys at the library, trying cigarettes in Jones Park (so glad they were disgusting), listening to this album a ton, agreeing with my friend Adrienne that the drummer was the hottest member of the band (uh, not anymore - yikes!).

It is amazing to me how things like scents or music can strip away decades and return you to a point in time.

When my grandma was in her final years, she mentioned to me that her body felt old and she surely was wiser, but she still felt like the same person as when she was a young girl. I get that, especially when I sit here singing about running to stand still and one tree hills.

A few of my favorite things (Sept 3 and 4 bike ride edition)

1. Riding on new routes (e.g. I'd never heard of Centerville before, much less ridden there).

2. Missed turns and unexpected discoveries (thumbs up to Egg Lake Road).

3. Riding by lakes, horses, and cows.

4. Taking unflattering photos of myself because they make me laugh (cue sweaty grey hair and crinkly eyes).

5. Being able to offer others something that I had been carrying on my bike just in case, like a snack.

6. Not being the one with a flat tire.

7. Standing at a familiar vista point and seeing something unexpected (like a tall sailboat on the Mississippi).

8. Riding where a race just ended and there are lots of biffies.

9. Chocolate chili brownies.

10. Being able to take the lane less stressfully due to riding with someone (and even better when it's around a pretty lake).

11. Lemonade stands.

12. Having the windy, cold rain storm pass through after I'm home.

Recalibration

After rereading my last blog post, typed on my phone in the delirious haze induced by a lack of sleep, I am reminded of the virtues of brevity, especially when phone-created posts put all the photos at the end.

Tonight I was in a funk. I'm trying to figure out what working from home means for me, schedule and biking-wise, and how to be most productive and yet emerge from my cave.

I took the dogs (Piper and dog-sittee Bailey) for a long walk, which helped. I then had the option of going to my dance class for the first time in months or going for a bike ride. I opted for the latter. I wanted to move swiftly, outside.

I realized, while riding, that I had to adjust my route to avoid areas I prefer not to ride through alone in the dark. So, I took a route that allowed me to see some toads. I take that as a good omen.

One thing I learned: after you clean the gum (yes, not sure how that happened) out of your bike cleats and adjust the tension on your pedals, your feet might come unclipped much more easily than planned, which is better than the alternative reality in which I was living.

Second thing I learned: you have to stop pedaling if you take pictures in the dark and expect them to turn out.

Dark to Dawn

As I type this, I have been up for over 38 hours. Last night I went on an all-night bike ride through Minneapolis and St. Paul, sponsored by the Major Taylor Bicycling Club of MN, and now am just winding down before going to bed.

The club promotes safe and fun cycling geared towards the Twin Cities' African-American community by hosting group rides, and also educates the public about its namesake - the cyclist Major Taylor who, in 1899, became the first African-American world cycling champion. 

We were encouraged to think of our bikes as time machines. As exhaustion and some disorientation about the date and time set in (we met at 7:30 p.m. Saturday, and finished just before 7 a.m. on Sunday), this became really easy.

We mostly followed the planned route as we visited communities most impacted by the development of the interstate highway system (I-94, I-35, and Hwy 55): communities of color. We rode through many neighborhoods and made many stops to highlight a person or an event through educational content, vocal performances, and reenactments focusing on the government's failure to address community concerns while enacting public policy. We were fed very well by a terrific African American-owned catering company, and got to try a cashew brittle-maker's wares.

Every rest stop throughout the night was recorded, with the plan to make an interactive map of the educational and artistic program.

I didn't take many photos because I was focusing on the content, or had food in my hands.

These are the highlights I remember:

- Singing, food, reenactments of discussions related to destruction of the Rondo neighborhood for I-94, a recitation of a MLK speech, and some kickoff speeches at the start (MLK park).
- Riding over a pedestrian bridge that one of the riders (an artist) is re-designing. Meeting a nice guy named Jeremiah.
- Stopping at the idiotic Kmart that was built 50 years ago in the middle of a major thoroughfare (Nicollet Ave.) and hearing stories of those who lived in the neighborhood at the time. Riding down 1st Ave to downtown.
- Learning about a different bridge created by the same artist commemorating the site of old, unsafe housing projects. (He just won $50,000 for being so awesome.)
- Visiting the library in N Mpls by Van White Dr that was relocated when the highway was built, eating cashew brittle, hearing some good singing. Riding to Wirth Park and on a new bike route while meeting a communications professor named Leelah (sp).  Seeing the new Webber pool.
- Visiting a super cool barbershop in N Mpls at around midnight, having a snack, watching another performance.
- Riding through North (a guy yelled out his truck to make sure we knew it was 1:30 a.m.) to NE Mpls just as the Ferris wheel lights went out at Betty Danger's.
- Riding through NE with a nice guy named... shoot. I'll remember later.
- Seeing another performance at Nicollet Island ending in the posing of questions about race and privilege. Riding through Dinkytown.
- Ending up at the witch's tower at about 3 a.m. and having delicious soup and coffee while a U of M professor and his wife showed us maps of development that disproportionately burdened communities of color.
- Getting a hotel to open its bathrooms for us.
- Riding down the river back near my neighborhood, learning about land bridges as elements of urban design. The presentation was by the nice guy whose name I've temporarily forgotten. Darius! That's it.
- Backtracking and taking Marshall to the site of the new Rondo Plaza coming next summer, a component of which also was designed by the artistic rider. Learning from the project instigator and manager (the former head law librarian for the state) about the plans, at about 5:45 a.m., and getting a group photo taken.
- Flying to breakfast on the mostly downhill route that had no traffic, riding right down the middle of a vacant Lake Street, eating a delicious meal, and riding back home at about 8 a.m.

I like riding at night. It is peaceful and there's no traffic. It also allows you to be a little more contemplative. I loved this ride. It was educational, the singing was beautiful, the people were super nice, and it was cool that we were all lit up with bike lights. It was much more enjoyable and thought provoking than I expected it would be.

I apologize for my poor editing skills... zzzz.... zzzz...