Bike the Drive
south of the loop
Retro: Training Begins
This is me at age 3, already starting to train for the MS 150.
I am cross-posting this in hopes of sending some traffic over here.
Introducing… My Newest Blog
My friend Harriett and I have decided to do the MS 150: Tour de Farms this June. It’s a two-day, 150-mile bike ride through the farmlands of Illinois. We’re not actually that crazy: it’s a ride, not a race, and we’re raising money for the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Illinois. It’ll be awhile before I start training for it, but I went ahead and got my fundraising page set up, and then decided to set up a blog so you can follow my progress as I complain about how sore my butt is from spending several hours at a time in the saddle. You can be assured that I’ll be asking you for a donation in another couple months; in the meantime, please add http://ridingforMS.wordpress.com to your RSS feeds so you’ll know when the fun begins!
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current book: I got coffee ALL OVER the beautiful white cover of Annie Dillard’s The Maytrees. I was so mad at myself that I didn’t even open it. I’ll be starting The Amazing Adventure of Kavalier & Clay shortly. Thanks, jaq!
current music: A three-CD mix from Justin called Gay Skate Night. It is just as awesome as it sounds.
current socks: New stripey SmartWools from my mom.
Happy Bike to Work Week!
I biked to and from work today—WITHOUT CRASHING ONCE, although the Navy Pier Trolley did want a piece of me—and was surprised this morning by a cheery crew on the lake path around 31st Street. A guy in full bike regalia was yelling through a bullhorn for bikers to pull over for free water! free coffee! free vitamin water! And so I did the sensible thing and pulled over.
They were from the Chicago Bike Federation and were celebrating Bike to Work Week. One of the guys struck up a conversation with me, wanting to know how often I biked to work, and he told me a little bit about the bike federation and all the work they’ve done to make Chicago the bike-friendly city that it is. (When I lived in Indy, I biked to work every once in a great while, and feared for my life every second of it. You’d think the drivers had never seen a biker before. I am in awe of my friend Carol who takes her life in her hands several times a week.) As I biked off, a couple bike geeks had collected around the kiosk and were discussing which brand of pedal clips were best. I felt a little out of place; after all, I don’t even have spandex that matches.
But did I mention that I didn’t crash once in twenty-four miles? I think that’s badass enough for me.
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current book: I think the only problem with biking to work is that I lose 40 minutes of reading time each day.
current music: The Shins’ Wincing the Night Away.
current socks: Just boring Smartwool® athletic socks. But they do have a bright orange racing stripe on them.
Bike v. World
Today was the second day I biked to work, and also the second day I sustained a bike-related injury. I know that I’m Klutzy McFallsalot, but this is pretty bad luck.
I followed up last Friday’s twisted ankle with some good old fashioned flesh wounds. While trying (also for the second time) to find Company’s parking garage, my bike—I call her Gertrude—got stuck in a railroad track. She stopped; I didn’t. I skidded along the pavement on my right side, resulting in a gritty mess of skinned hands, elbows, and thighs. I don’t think I’ve skinned an elbow since I was nine or 10—it hurts!
Perhaps the lesson to be learned is to stick with nonvehicular exercise. As my friend Carol says, “biking is a full-on contact sport. It’s bike vs. world.” Yeah. World: 2, Gertrude: 0.
(I did finally find the parking garage, but only after three different people gave me the grand tour (because the spill wasn’t embarrassing enough? Now I’m going to go down in Company history as “that girl who couldn’t even find the parking garage!”).)
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current book: On Beauty. Still wonderful.
current music: The sound of my own bitching all day.
current socks: Green sandals; but I was wearing athletic socks and shoes on the ride in the morning, so I can’t blame unstable shoes for my own clumsiness or for Gertrude’s inability to negotiate railroad tracks.
