Sunrise at the Grand Canyon.
The paramedic students we went to Applebee's with in Roswell.
Endless mountain climbs.
Getting stranded on a massive downhill on I-40 with a flat tire, no tubes, while I was sweep and my sweep buddy was miles ahead of me.
Riding through the flooded fields in Illinois.
Roden crater.
Bible verses on billboards.
Dealing with my fear of lightening.
Impromptou dance parties in front of famous landmarks.
Meeting future Habitat homeowners.
Biking in and out of Palo Duro canyon. Voluntarily.
The endless valley on the day into Pietown but making it because of Kyle M. and Lynn.
Roadside peeing.
Cornfields. Wheat fields. Pastures. Feedlots. The smell of feedlots.
My inability to keep a pair of sunglasses.
Hose showers.
The first California farmstand after the desert.
Days without stoplights.
Being in the middle of nowhere.
What we talk about when we're riding in the middle of nowhere.
The terribleness of headwinds.
Skinny dipping in Oklahoma.
The days when I really really really didn't want to ride anymore.
Route 66.
Superhero day (there was underwear over spandex! And fake mustaches!).
Falling in the parking lot in Boston and worrying that I would never make it cross country.
Slowly realizing that I was going to make it cross country.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
viva las vegas
So, I know I'm giving you the oldest excuse in the business: my computer wrote my blog entry. But it's true! I wrote the best, most thorough entry about the day into Las Vegas. It wrote all about the rumours that we couldn't find a host in Vegas, our excitement upon learning that, in fact, all our leaders are dirty liars (well we'd known that since Illinois) and we were getting the ultimate hook-up: free rooms in the Imperial Palace on the strip.
Then, I had a long description about the absolute awfullness what was our ride into Kingman, AZ, the stop before Vegas. The short version is as follows. We had a choice between 95 miles on I-40 (incredibly boring, lidden with tire-puncturing debris, ungodly amount of climbing) or 110 miles on old route 66 (less climbing! less debris! one third of an ironman!). We picked the second option. The day before my front tire bit the dust (not literally... well it always kind of is biting the dust literally), so Jo lent me one of her recently switched out armadillos. Now, Jo didn't get a single flat this whole summer. I figured with Jo's tire, I'd be golden.
I got a flat on my front tire around mile 15. The rest of the morning and early afternoon were relatively uneventful: generally downhill, hot, threatening thunder showers, some beautiful scenery. Second lunch was in the parking lot of a zoo which contained animals rescued from abusive owners (such as a panther and a cow). The afternoon was worse: hot, windy, and endless. Then Lynn and I got lost in Kingman, just in time to be hit by a duststorm -- I'm serious, a full-on Grapes of Wrath style dust storm. I freaked out a bit. Ok, maybe a lot. Luckily, Skip rescued us in the van and drove us the last three miles to the church. And by church, I mean tiny little house next to the church where there also wasn't enough dinner. After switching Jo's tire for a brand new Armadillo that Hilary kindly bought for me, I passed out under a table.
I wasn't very happy the next morning. I don't think any of us were. We were exhausted, in the desert, and facing another 100+ mile day that had some serious climbing at the end. Jorge, as always, managed to save the mood, giving us one of the best motivating speeches ever. When we rolled out I was feeling pretty optimistic and spent a wonderful morning riding through a desert valley with Lynn, singing Jason Mraz and Smash Mouth at the top of our lungs.
After lunch I ended up riding with Jane and Emma, two people who I hadn't gotten to ride with much during the trip. We hit the beginning of the climb just as it started to get hotter. The landscape was unlike anything we'd encountered before: jagged gray mountains with absolutely no plants or water or really anything. It looked a bit like Mars; probably because, as Emma pointed out, they must film all the Mars movies here. At the top of the climb, we passed through a security checkpoint (oooh, thanks homeland security) before beginning a harrowing descent to the Hoover Dam that involved dissapearing shoulders, slippery gravel, and speeding traffic. Our reward? 120 degree heat and a really big dam. As we crossed the dam we ran into Kyle R. and Lenny, usually two of the faster riders, who'd spent the morning hanging around the dam (eating lots of dam burgers and dam fries, no doubt). We posed for some photos with them on the dam and at the Nevada state line before they left us in the dust climbing out of the dam. Emma started feeling sick so Jane and I waited with her in some shade for a bit before we all continued on.
I actually really enjoyed the climb out of the dam. It was really really hot and the road was pretty narrow, but the opposing lane of traffic was at a standstill because of traffic slowing over the dam, and the looks on the drivers faces as we rode by made me feel pretty dam hardcore. Towards the end of the climb the van passed us, and Emma, who looked and felt miserable, wisely got in. While she and Jose loaded her bike I climbed into the van to enjoy the marvelous air conditioning (and left a trail of dirty sweat on the door. eeew). Then, Jane and I pushed on, finally finishing the climb. When we got to the beginning of our descent into we could see a giant storm cloud covering the city. Well less a cloud than just a giant black thing with lightening occasionally flying out of it. I was pretty excited about the end of the heat. Then, riding into the city, the wind began to blow. And blow hard. To avoid being pushed off the road or into traffic, Jane and I finally stopped and took cover under the awning of a casino. Fitting huh? A half hour or so later the storm cleared enough for us to continue into Vegas. If only that was it.
As we rode, the pavement got wet from the rain we'd missed. Then, there were puddles. And then there were more puddles. We found ourselves in the middle of a flash flood, as foot-deep water rushed across the road. I am so glad I was with Jane, because alone, I would have just called it a day. But she pressed on through the water, around the stopped cars, and I just clung onto her wheel, following her through the chaos. And it was chaos: it must not rain this much in Vegas ever. All around us were stopped and stalled cars, dazed pedestrians, general madness. We must have looked absolutely crazy -- which I have to say, we must have been. When we finally got to the strip, we were soaked and splattered with muddy water, and I was so exhausted, I almost couldn't take in the lights and craziness around me. But suddenly I realized: I am riding my bike down the Vegas strip, past the casinos and the tourist, after riding 105 miles through the desert and the mountains and that f-ing flood to get here! I am so badass!
Then I fell smack on the ground in front of the Flamingo. One block from our hotel. Ouch. It was bruising, both for my legs, and my ego. But I'm glad to say I got back on my bike and rode, slowly, to our hotel.
We'd had big plans for all the crazy things we'd do in Vegas. But after a shower and a giant meal at the buffet, all I could do was fall asleep in my glorious glorious bed. The next morning, I found myself wide awake, as normal, at 4:30 am, so I took a walk up and down the strip, past the casinos themed to look like a pirate ship, or a cleaned up Venice. I was definitely the only person I saw who'd already slept, and slept over eight hours at that. After weeks in the peaceful, deserted, desert, the lights of Vegas just seemed bizarre. We went to a build site that day, and after, walked around some of the other casinos. I'm glad, I guess, that we went to Vegas, because now I never need to go back there ever again.
Then, I had a long description about the absolute awfullness what was our ride into Kingman, AZ, the stop before Vegas. The short version is as follows. We had a choice between 95 miles on I-40 (incredibly boring, lidden with tire-puncturing debris, ungodly amount of climbing) or 110 miles on old route 66 (less climbing! less debris! one third of an ironman!). We picked the second option. The day before my front tire bit the dust (not literally... well it always kind of is biting the dust literally), so Jo lent me one of her recently switched out armadillos. Now, Jo didn't get a single flat this whole summer. I figured with Jo's tire, I'd be golden.
I got a flat on my front tire around mile 15. The rest of the morning and early afternoon were relatively uneventful: generally downhill, hot, threatening thunder showers, some beautiful scenery. Second lunch was in the parking lot of a zoo which contained animals rescued from abusive owners (such as a panther and a cow). The afternoon was worse: hot, windy, and endless. Then Lynn and I got lost in Kingman, just in time to be hit by a duststorm -- I'm serious, a full-on Grapes of Wrath style dust storm. I freaked out a bit. Ok, maybe a lot. Luckily, Skip rescued us in the van and drove us the last three miles to the church. And by church, I mean tiny little house next to the church where there also wasn't enough dinner. After switching Jo's tire for a brand new Armadillo that Hilary kindly bought for me, I passed out under a table.
I wasn't very happy the next morning. I don't think any of us were. We were exhausted, in the desert, and facing another 100+ mile day that had some serious climbing at the end. Jorge, as always, managed to save the mood, giving us one of the best motivating speeches ever. When we rolled out I was feeling pretty optimistic and spent a wonderful morning riding through a desert valley with Lynn, singing Jason Mraz and Smash Mouth at the top of our lungs.
After lunch I ended up riding with Jane and Emma, two people who I hadn't gotten to ride with much during the trip. We hit the beginning of the climb just as it started to get hotter. The landscape was unlike anything we'd encountered before: jagged gray mountains with absolutely no plants or water or really anything. It looked a bit like Mars; probably because, as Emma pointed out, they must film all the Mars movies here. At the top of the climb, we passed through a security checkpoint (oooh, thanks homeland security) before beginning a harrowing descent to the Hoover Dam that involved dissapearing shoulders, slippery gravel, and speeding traffic. Our reward? 120 degree heat and a really big dam. As we crossed the dam we ran into Kyle R. and Lenny, usually two of the faster riders, who'd spent the morning hanging around the dam (eating lots of dam burgers and dam fries, no doubt). We posed for some photos with them on the dam and at the Nevada state line before they left us in the dust climbing out of the dam. Emma started feeling sick so Jane and I waited with her in some shade for a bit before we all continued on.
I actually really enjoyed the climb out of the dam. It was really really hot and the road was pretty narrow, but the opposing lane of traffic was at a standstill because of traffic slowing over the dam, and the looks on the drivers faces as we rode by made me feel pretty dam hardcore. Towards the end of the climb the van passed us, and Emma, who looked and felt miserable, wisely got in. While she and Jose loaded her bike I climbed into the van to enjoy the marvelous air conditioning (and left a trail of dirty sweat on the door. eeew). Then, Jane and I pushed on, finally finishing the climb. When we got to the beginning of our descent into we could see a giant storm cloud covering the city. Well less a cloud than just a giant black thing with lightening occasionally flying out of it. I was pretty excited about the end of the heat. Then, riding into the city, the wind began to blow. And blow hard. To avoid being pushed off the road or into traffic, Jane and I finally stopped and took cover under the awning of a casino. Fitting huh? A half hour or so later the storm cleared enough for us to continue into Vegas. If only that was it.
As we rode, the pavement got wet from the rain we'd missed. Then, there were puddles. And then there were more puddles. We found ourselves in the middle of a flash flood, as foot-deep water rushed across the road. I am so glad I was with Jane, because alone, I would have just called it a day. But she pressed on through the water, around the stopped cars, and I just clung onto her wheel, following her through the chaos. And it was chaos: it must not rain this much in Vegas ever. All around us were stopped and stalled cars, dazed pedestrians, general madness. We must have looked absolutely crazy -- which I have to say, we must have been. When we finally got to the strip, we were soaked and splattered with muddy water, and I was so exhausted, I almost couldn't take in the lights and craziness around me. But suddenly I realized: I am riding my bike down the Vegas strip, past the casinos and the tourist, after riding 105 miles through the desert and the mountains and that f-ing flood to get here! I am so badass!
Then I fell smack on the ground in front of the Flamingo. One block from our hotel. Ouch. It was bruising, both for my legs, and my ego. But I'm glad to say I got back on my bike and rode, slowly, to our hotel.
We'd had big plans for all the crazy things we'd do in Vegas. But after a shower and a giant meal at the buffet, all I could do was fall asleep in my glorious glorious bed. The next morning, I found myself wide awake, as normal, at 4:30 am, so I took a walk up and down the strip, past the casinos themed to look like a pirate ship, or a cleaned up Venice. I was definitely the only person I saw who'd already slept, and slept over eight hours at that. After weeks in the peaceful, deserted, desert, the lights of Vegas just seemed bizarre. We went to a build site that day, and after, walked around some of the other casinos. I'm glad, I guess, that we went to Vegas, because now I never need to go back there ever again.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
aliens, hippies, and hypothermia
Since my last update, our merry band has been flying across the Southwest. First, New Mexico, or as I called it, the state of plagues. First, there was extreme heat as we rode into Roswell. A sign around mile 20 proclaimed "last food and fuel for 65 miles." While 65 miles would only take an hour in a car, it's a long time on a bike. Luckily, Jose kept us fed and watered with numerous van stops. Then, from Roswell to Corizozo we faced extreme cold. Well not, extreme cold, but 60 degrees and rainy is really cold when you're riding all day in a jersey and shorts. The day from Corizozo to Socorro we were graced by a violent thunder and lightening storm. It wasn't until I found myself crouched in a ditch while the rest of the riders debated what to do that I realized that I am terrified of lightening. Then, a woman drove up and told us to get out of the ditch because of flash floods. So we rode through the storm, which ended up not being so bad. The next day was the day of extreme altitude: we climbed 4,000 feet in one day and I discovered that you actually can bike enough altitude to give you altitude sickness. Thankfully, the next day we crossed into Arizona and the biking was pretty smooth (despite the bits of wire and glass covering the sides of I-40 giving us tons and tons of flats).
Despite all the craziness, New Mexico and Arizona have been my favorite parts of the trip so far. We had a day off in Roswell where I got to go to the alien museum (eh) and eat some delicious Mexican food (yay). The rides through the mountains in New Mexico were absolutely beautiful, as have been the desert rides in Arizona. We biked past the Very Large Array and the painted desert. We've also had great hosts. Pietown, New Mexico -- a town of 60 people straddling the continental divide -- went all out for us. They made us a huge dinner, lots of pie, and let us stay in the amazing 'Toaster House,' which had toasters hanging around the entryway, and tons of other cool artwork around. Two days later, we were in Houck, a town on the edge of the Navajo reservation, where our hosts made us 'Navajo Tacos' -- tacos with frybread instead of tortillas -- and taught us a bit about life in the Navajo Nation. We've also slept in some pretty crazy places, like the raquetball courts at Eastern New Mexico University in Roswell (have you ever slept in a giant white box?) and an indoor astroturf field in Eager, Arizona. Now, I'm in Flagstaff, which is one of the coolest towns we've been in: lots of cool shops, resturaunts, and bike shops. It has a very hippie vibe.
It's pretty crazy that there are less than two weeks left in the trip. I feel like we still have so much to see: the grand canyon, Las Vegas (just wait until you hear about where we're staying), the California desert, and then... the Pacific!
Despite all the craziness, New Mexico and Arizona have been my favorite parts of the trip so far. We had a day off in Roswell where I got to go to the alien museum (eh) and eat some delicious Mexican food (yay). The rides through the mountains in New Mexico were absolutely beautiful, as have been the desert rides in Arizona. We biked past the Very Large Array and the painted desert. We've also had great hosts. Pietown, New Mexico -- a town of 60 people straddling the continental divide -- went all out for us. They made us a huge dinner, lots of pie, and let us stay in the amazing 'Toaster House,' which had toasters hanging around the entryway, and tons of other cool artwork around. Two days later, we were in Houck, a town on the edge of the Navajo reservation, where our hosts made us 'Navajo Tacos' -- tacos with frybread instead of tortillas -- and taught us a bit about life in the Navajo Nation. We've also slept in some pretty crazy places, like the raquetball courts at Eastern New Mexico University in Roswell (have you ever slept in a giant white box?) and an indoor astroturf field in Eager, Arizona. Now, I'm in Flagstaff, which is one of the coolest towns we've been in: lots of cool shops, resturaunts, and bike shops. It has a very hippie vibe.
It's pretty crazy that there are less than two weeks left in the trip. I feel like we still have so much to see: the grand canyon, Las Vegas (just wait until you hear about where we're staying), the California desert, and then... the Pacific!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Everything's bigger in Texas...
There are a lot of stereotypes about Texas. And, now that I'm here I can tell you that they are all true.
First, there was the state sign. The Texas state sign was the biggest state sign we'd seen so far: a towering green homage to the Texas flag, driving safely, and underneath it, a plaque proclaiming Texas "the proud home of President George W. Bush." Yee-haw. I rode in with Jo, Jess Leon, Dani, and Jorge. Jorge, a native Texan, kissed the ground.
Before we got into Texas, Jorge taught us the UT fight song. Here's how it goes, sung to the tune of "I've been working on the railroad":
The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live long day.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, you cannot get away.
No you cannot escape them in the night or early morn.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, till Gabriel blows his horn.
After 15 uneventful miles, we arrived in the small farming town of Wheeler. We showered in the locker rooms at Wheeler School (one school for K-12) and admired the rows upon rows of football trophies lining the halls.
The First Baptist church hosted us and really did a great job of welcoming us and also, showing us what Texas was all about. They fed us a delicious dinner ("We made brisket. I know ya'll have vegetarians, but this is Texas). The church had a really cool youth center in the basement, complete with a giant movie projector: I'd never seen the Bodies and Motion video so big. And while, you might think a group of college kids mostly from the coasts and a group of high schoolers from a small town in Texas wouldn't have much in common, we discovered that we shared one important thing: a love of Chuck Norris quotes. We shared our favorite quotes and they told us theirs: "Jesus could roundhouse kick Chuck Norris in the face ... but would he?"
The next day we had a tough ride: 99 miles into Amarillo, on jarring roads, uphill and into a headwind the whole way. But actually, it wasn't so bad. I spent most of the day with Lynn, Jess L., and Jo. After second lunch though, I ended up on my own. I was a little daunted by the idea of riding the next 3o miles on the flat, boring road all by myself, but it actually went by pretty quickly. In Amarrillo, Lynn caught up to me again and we road the last few miles together.
It's time to get ready for our build day, so I'll have to share the story of Jorge and the 72 ounce steak another time...
First, there was the state sign. The Texas state sign was the biggest state sign we'd seen so far: a towering green homage to the Texas flag, driving safely, and underneath it, a plaque proclaiming Texas "the proud home of President George W. Bush." Yee-haw. I rode in with Jo, Jess Leon, Dani, and Jorge. Jorge, a native Texan, kissed the ground.
Before we got into Texas, Jorge taught us the UT fight song. Here's how it goes, sung to the tune of "I've been working on the railroad":
The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live long day.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, you cannot get away.
No you cannot escape them in the night or early morn.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, till Gabriel blows his horn.
After 15 uneventful miles, we arrived in the small farming town of Wheeler. We showered in the locker rooms at Wheeler School (one school for K-12) and admired the rows upon rows of football trophies lining the halls.
The First Baptist church hosted us and really did a great job of welcoming us and also, showing us what Texas was all about. They fed us a delicious dinner ("We made brisket. I know ya'll have vegetarians, but this is Texas). The church had a really cool youth center in the basement, complete with a giant movie projector: I'd never seen the Bodies and Motion video so big. And while, you might think a group of college kids mostly from the coasts and a group of high schoolers from a small town in Texas wouldn't have much in common, we discovered that we shared one important thing: a love of Chuck Norris quotes. We shared our favorite quotes and they told us theirs: "Jesus could roundhouse kick Chuck Norris in the face ... but would he?"
The next day we had a tough ride: 99 miles into Amarillo, on jarring roads, uphill and into a headwind the whole way. But actually, it wasn't so bad. I spent most of the day with Lynn, Jess L., and Jo. After second lunch though, I ended up on my own. I was a little daunted by the idea of riding the next 3o miles on the flat, boring road all by myself, but it actually went by pretty quickly. In Amarrillo, Lynn caught up to me again and we road the last few miles together.
It's time to get ready for our build day, so I'll have to share the story of Jorge and the 72 ounce steak another time...
Monday, July 14, 2008
Tulsa, Oklahoma
I'm writing from Tulsa, home of Garth Brooks and the Hanson Brothers (we biked here from Vinita, Oklahoma -- hometown of Dr. Phill). The last few days have been really great: flat, sunny, and with lots of fun stops along the way. We've gone swimming in the most beautiful river, posed for pictures with a giant blue whale, and run around in a giant field of sunflowers. Today's been one of those days where it just seems really unreal. I'm in Oklahoma! I biked from Boston to Oklahoma!
Boy am I tired.
Boy am I tired.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
joplin, missouri
Since my last post, our merry band has biked diagonally across the state of Missouri.
Highlights include:
Walking 6 miles of gravel road in the rain.
Camping out in Potosi: We were staying at a Boy Scout camp. The camp was rented out to a Christian youth group so our host ('Potosi Paul') found us a field next to a very old church and graveyard where we could pitch tents. Then it thunderstormed. We ended up cramming into a half-finished house for the night.
Back to back centuries through the Ozarks. Oh yeah. I was sweep (ride behind the rest of the group to make sure everyone gets there safely) the first century, so unfortunately (or fortunately!) was picked up at 5pm around mile 60. But I finished the second century day, making it my 3rd 100 miler of the summer. I'm really really impressed at the rest of the Bike and Build crew who pedaled through both.
Lots and lots of frozen custard. Yum.
Working on the first day of a blitz build in Springfield, Missouri. They're building a house in front of a golf course during a big tournament and then moving it over to its real location. We spent the morning posing for pictures and then sitting around waiting for something to do (I took a wonderful nap). But in the afternoon we got some work, and I got to use a saw for the first time ever.
Uttering the sentence: "today was a short day -- 80 miles"
It's 9pm, which means bedtime. Goodnight all!
Highlights include:
Walking 6 miles of gravel road in the rain.
Camping out in Potosi: We were staying at a Boy Scout camp. The camp was rented out to a Christian youth group so our host ('Potosi Paul') found us a field next to a very old church and graveyard where we could pitch tents. Then it thunderstormed. We ended up cramming into a half-finished house for the night.
Back to back centuries through the Ozarks. Oh yeah. I was sweep (ride behind the rest of the group to make sure everyone gets there safely) the first century, so unfortunately (or fortunately!) was picked up at 5pm around mile 60. But I finished the second century day, making it my 3rd 100 miler of the summer. I'm really really impressed at the rest of the Bike and Build crew who pedaled through both.
Lots and lots of frozen custard. Yum.
Working on the first day of a blitz build in Springfield, Missouri. They're building a house in front of a golf course during a big tournament and then moving it over to its real location. We spent the morning posing for pictures and then sitting around waiting for something to do (I took a wonderful nap). But in the afternoon we got some work, and I got to use a saw for the first time ever.
Uttering the sentence: "today was a short day -- 80 miles"
It's 9pm, which means bedtime. Goodnight all!
Monday, July 7, 2008
meet me in St. Louis
I was really excited about riding over the Mississippi River. When I woke up on a church social hall floor in Salem, Illinois, it hit me: today was the day. We'd had two days of beautiful flat riding since Bloomington, and one more 80 miler would take us to the Mississippi. At breakfast though, things began to look dark. There were rumors that today would be hilly... really hilly. We're biking through the Ozarks today, someone said. Aren't the Ozarks in Missouri, not Illinois? Anyway, the elevation chart on the cue sheet confirmed it: big big hills -- mountains really. But I set out determined. I was going to bike across the Mississippi today, no matter what.
Ten miles into the ride, it became clear that yes, the Ozarks are not in Southern Illinois (ha ha Kyle Magida) and an uneventful but pleasantly flat ride brought us to the outskirts of St. Louis. I've been told that this area is unusually cool right now. But that can't be true because it was very very hot. We stopped at a nice air conditioned Dairy Queen (where Oliver somehow downed a blizzard bigger than his head) before heading out down a nice bike path. Biking on the path was really fun -- no traffic to worry about. It felt a bit like we were all just out for a nice leisurely Sunday afternoon ride, not spandex clad biking machines who've ridden over 1000 miles in the last 4 weeks. Well it was leisurely until we realized that the YMCA where we could shower closed at 3:30 -- then we started to book it.
The bike path spit us out into a treeless, baked, neighborhood. Confusing cue sheet directions had us following the arrows chalked by those before us until all of a sudden we were riding onto the McKinley Bridge. I guess I was a little disappointed by the Mississippi. It was much smaller than the Hudson and it was so so very hot and I wanted to shower so badly that we barely stopped for pictures at the Illinois/Missouri line before rolling on. After the bridge we headed south on the "Riverside Bike Path," which was not so much riverside as concrete-wall-and-industrial-wasteland-side. Then the bike path turned and ended in a wall, so we continued on the street, up a hill, past the correctional facility, into St. Louis proper, which smelled a bit like boiled asphalt and vomit. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on St. Louis. Maybe I've just gotten used to the smell. But at that point all I wanted was to be out of the heat and in a shower.
When we rolled up to the church at exactly 3:28pm where Skip Burns met us outside, informing us that the Y had actually closed at 3:00. Luckily, Allie's grandmother invited us to her assisted living home in the burbs to shower, which was amazing. After that, and not one but two dinners, and a nice 20 minutes lying on the grass under the arch, I was finally feeling pretty happy to be on this side of the Mississippi.
Ten miles into the ride, it became clear that yes, the Ozarks are not in Southern Illinois (ha ha Kyle Magida) and an uneventful but pleasantly flat ride brought us to the outskirts of St. Louis. I've been told that this area is unusually cool right now. But that can't be true because it was very very hot. We stopped at a nice air conditioned Dairy Queen (where Oliver somehow downed a blizzard bigger than his head) before heading out down a nice bike path. Biking on the path was really fun -- no traffic to worry about. It felt a bit like we were all just out for a nice leisurely Sunday afternoon ride, not spandex clad biking machines who've ridden over 1000 miles in the last 4 weeks. Well it was leisurely until we realized that the YMCA where we could shower closed at 3:30 -- then we started to book it.
The bike path spit us out into a treeless, baked, neighborhood. Confusing cue sheet directions had us following the arrows chalked by those before us until all of a sudden we were riding onto the McKinley Bridge. I guess I was a little disappointed by the Mississippi. It was much smaller than the Hudson and it was so so very hot and I wanted to shower so badly that we barely stopped for pictures at the Illinois/Missouri line before rolling on. After the bridge we headed south on the "Riverside Bike Path," which was not so much riverside as concrete-wall-and-industrial-wasteland-side. Then the bike path turned and ended in a wall, so we continued on the street, up a hill, past the correctional facility, into St. Louis proper, which smelled a bit like boiled asphalt and vomit. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on St. Louis. Maybe I've just gotten used to the smell. But at that point all I wanted was to be out of the heat and in a shower.
When we rolled up to the church at exactly 3:28pm where Skip Burns met us outside, informing us that the Y had actually closed at 3:00. Luckily, Allie's grandmother invited us to her assisted living home in the burbs to shower, which was amazing. After that, and not one but two dinners, and a nice 20 minutes lying on the grass under the arch, I was finally feeling pretty happy to be on this side of the Mississippi.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Bloomington, IN
Today I'm writing from the wonderful Monroe County library (you mean I can use the computer for more than fifteen minutes?) in Bloomington, Indiana. This was an especially exciting stop for me because it turns out that I'm going to be living in B-town, as they call it, for a year after Bike and Build. I'd never been here before so it's been really cool to get to see my future home, as well as meet my future boss for the first time and sign my lease. Bloomington seems to have an amazing cycling culture (have you seen Breaking Away?) and I've been loving the competent bike shops, well-marked bike lanes, and friendly drivers. I'm pretty much really excited to be moving here in two months.
So in between Indiana and P.A., we rode through Ohio and a tiny sliver of West Virginia. I didn't really get much of a feel for West Viriginia during our 4 mile jaunt, but I did like Ohio. First of all, it was pretty flat (well anything's flat compared to the Appalachians). Also, the people we met in Ohio were so incredibly friendly. In Stuebenville (home of Dean Martin), Newcomerstown (home of Cy Young), Columbus (???), and Yellowsprings (home of Dave Chapelle!) we stayed at some very friendly churches and got to meet a lot of cool people.
Ohio was also a bit of a tough state, between the blistering wind, torrential downpours, thunder and lightening, and treacherous gravel. Treacherous gravel you say? Well ... I did manage to wipe out on some gravel thirty miles away from Newcomerstown. I, for once, emerged without a scrape, but my bike wasn't so lucky. My deraileur (the thing that switches gears on the rear wheel and takes up chain slack) didn't so much break, as explode, the metal twisting around itself in a pretty spectacular way. Even the surly bike shop mechanic in Columbus was forced to admit that my predicament was pretty rare. Luckily, I was only off the road for a day, and now, Bobbi Bicycle is back in action.
Tomorrow, to Illinois!
So in between Indiana and P.A., we rode through Ohio and a tiny sliver of West Virginia. I didn't really get much of a feel for West Viriginia during our 4 mile jaunt, but I did like Ohio. First of all, it was pretty flat (well anything's flat compared to the Appalachians). Also, the people we met in Ohio were so incredibly friendly. In Stuebenville (home of Dean Martin), Newcomerstown (home of Cy Young), Columbus (???), and Yellowsprings (home of Dave Chapelle!) we stayed at some very friendly churches and got to meet a lot of cool people.
Ohio was also a bit of a tough state, between the blistering wind, torrential downpours, thunder and lightening, and treacherous gravel. Treacherous gravel you say? Well ... I did manage to wipe out on some gravel thirty miles away from Newcomerstown. I, for once, emerged without a scrape, but my bike wasn't so lucky. My deraileur (the thing that switches gears on the rear wheel and takes up chain slack) didn't so much break, as explode, the metal twisting around itself in a pretty spectacular way. Even the surly bike shop mechanic in Columbus was forced to admit that my predicament was pretty rare. Luckily, I was only off the road for a day, and now, Bobbi Bicycle is back in action.
Tomorrow, to Illinois!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
pittsburgh, pa
I'm writing from a public library in Pittsburgh with a very strict internet policy -- nine minutes before my internet cuts out!
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind. We biked across Mass., over the Berkshires and into NY where we spent two days in Poughkeepsie. Then we biked to Port Jervis, up into Mt. Pocono (whew that was tough), then we started skyrocketing across PA. I rode my first century (100 miles) into State College which was pretty fantastic. I had no idea I would be able to ride that far, but I somehow did. The last 30 miles of the ride were through Amish country. I'd never seen Amish people before, and the rolling hills, horse drawn carts, and laundry lines hung across the yards were absolutely beautiful. One of the coolest things about riding a bike (beyond the blazing endorphins) is how accessible it makes you. People wave, say hi, ask where we're going. I mean, there's 31 of us dressed in red, white, and blue spandex. It makes me feel so much more a part of the country than if I were speeding past in a car. Yesterday, on a particularly busy stretch of road through a series of big box stores outside Pittsburgh, two women dressed in cutoff jeans asked us where we were going while we stopped at a red light. It turned out that one of the women's daughters was living in a Habitat for Humanity home -- pretty cool, huh?
This trip has also been much much harder than I ever expected. First of all, there's a the biking. I love riding my bike but I don't think any amount of training could have prepared me for riding my bike five, to eight, to sometimes ten hours a day. It gets really really tiring, both physically, and mentally, having to push myself up every hill. I bonked twice in the last week, both time around mile fifty: I got queasy and tired and teary and just could not keep riding no matter what I did. It was pretty miserable. So now I am dutifully trying to eat and drink around the clock to make sure it doesn't happen again -- I'm actually getting pretty tired of constantly stuffing my face. Who knew eating was so hard?
Second, it's been pretty hard to get used to life off the bike. A common saying in Bike & Build is, "privacy is biking alone." It's true. Getting used to living with a family of 31 other people, sleeping in the same big rooms, eating the same food, sometimes even showering together -- it's pretty tough. But I think I'm slowly getting used to it, and the other people in our group really astound me with their strengths and experiences. I think I'm going to get a lot more out of this trip than just strong quads.
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind. We biked across Mass., over the Berkshires and into NY where we spent two days in Poughkeepsie. Then we biked to Port Jervis, up into Mt. Pocono (whew that was tough), then we started skyrocketing across PA. I rode my first century (100 miles) into State College which was pretty fantastic. I had no idea I would be able to ride that far, but I somehow did. The last 30 miles of the ride were through Amish country. I'd never seen Amish people before, and the rolling hills, horse drawn carts, and laundry lines hung across the yards were absolutely beautiful. One of the coolest things about riding a bike (beyond the blazing endorphins) is how accessible it makes you. People wave, say hi, ask where we're going. I mean, there's 31 of us dressed in red, white, and blue spandex. It makes me feel so much more a part of the country than if I were speeding past in a car. Yesterday, on a particularly busy stretch of road through a series of big box stores outside Pittsburgh, two women dressed in cutoff jeans asked us where we were going while we stopped at a red light. It turned out that one of the women's daughters was living in a Habitat for Humanity home -- pretty cool, huh?
This trip has also been much much harder than I ever expected. First of all, there's a the biking. I love riding my bike but I don't think any amount of training could have prepared me for riding my bike five, to eight, to sometimes ten hours a day. It gets really really tiring, both physically, and mentally, having to push myself up every hill. I bonked twice in the last week, both time around mile fifty: I got queasy and tired and teary and just could not keep riding no matter what I did. It was pretty miserable. So now I am dutifully trying to eat and drink around the clock to make sure it doesn't happen again -- I'm actually getting pretty tired of constantly stuffing my face. Who knew eating was so hard?
Second, it's been pretty hard to get used to life off the bike. A common saying in Bike & Build is, "privacy is biking alone." It's true. Getting used to living with a family of 31 other people, sleeping in the same big rooms, eating the same food, sometimes even showering together -- it's pretty tough. But I think I'm slowly getting used to it, and the other people in our group really astound me with their strengths and experiences. I think I'm going to get a lot more out of this trip than just strong quads.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Poughkeepsie, NY
Today we crossed the state border into New York -- our first state line. While bunch of us stopped to take some photos at the state line, a car drove up and the driver leaned out to ask if we were all ok. We laughed, and someone shouted "we're just happy to be here!" Other highlights from the day included posing with a giant wooden chair, racing a 14 year old on a BMX bike in Hudson, meeting a dairy farmer, an amazing peanut butter - honey - granola sandwich, and singing Hakuna Matata at the top of our lungs while riding into Poughkeepsie. Also, I rode 89 miles today!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
building
Today was our first build day in Lawrence, Mass -- an old mill town a few miles from Andover. After a delicious breakfast (thank you Webbers!) we drove to Lawrence from the school we're staying at in Andover. It was crazy to see the transition out the car window from Andover's large stately houses to the rundown cramped Lawrence area.
When we got there, the site director quickly seperated us into three groups: 1. people with construction experience who weren't afraid of heights, 2. people with construction experience who are afraid of heights, and 3. people without construction experience. You can guess which group I was in. As most of the group started tackling the frame and walls of the house, ten of us drove off to another site, where we would dig holes and place the posts separating three new habitat houses from two older habitat duplexes behind them.
I thought it would take us a few hours tops. But then, I started digging. I'd remembered learning in my environmental history courses about the rockiness of New England soils. Well... they're rocky. It took hours of hacking out the ground with shovels, post diggers, and even a crowbar in order to dig the 19 holes (each 2 feet deep) that we needed. After lunch (again, thanks to the Webbers) we returned to our site to mix and pour cement around the posts. It was pretty tiring, but cool to see what we accomplished, and also to get a chance to talk to my fellow B&Bers one-on-one while we struggled through the rocky soil.
When we got there, the site director quickly seperated us into three groups: 1. people with construction experience who weren't afraid of heights, 2. people with construction experience who are afraid of heights, and 3. people without construction experience. You can guess which group I was in. As most of the group started tackling the frame and walls of the house, ten of us drove off to another site, where we would dig holes and place the posts separating three new habitat houses from two older habitat duplexes behind them.
I thought it would take us a few hours tops. But then, I started digging. I'd remembered learning in my environmental history courses about the rockiness of New England soils. Well... they're rocky. It took hours of hacking out the ground with shovels, post diggers, and even a crowbar in order to dig the 19 holes (each 2 feet deep) that we needed. After lunch (again, thanks to the Webbers) we returned to our site to mix and pour cement around the posts. It was pretty tiring, but cool to see what we accomplished, and also to get a chance to talk to my fellow B&Bers one-on-one while we struggled through the rocky soil.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Andover, MA
Just checking in -- internet access has been limited but I'm having a great time. It's finally hitting me how crazy this undertaking will be. I'm also astounded at the generosity of our hosts, those who've donated food (eggplant parm beats peanut butter and jelly any day), and just the people who wave and cheer as we bike past.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
t minus
I leave for Boston tomorrow for the first day of Bike and Build. For a few days I was really nervous about it. I put the poor workers at CitySports through an epic meltdown. I went in on a lark, thinking that I needed an extra fleece because I might get cold on the trip. Somehow, that morphed into needing tank tops because I only had two packed and I should really have three, because what if I want to wear a tank top three days in a row and don't have a chance to do laundry? After trying on an armload of tank tops I remembered that I had another one that just needed to be washed, so I didn't need a tank top after all. Then i went through the sweatpants (it might be too cold for shorts and i won't feel like jeans), before slinking out of the store with just an on-sale sports bra, trying my best not to look like a crazy person.
After that faze, I've started to become less worried about the trip and more aware of the fact that starting the trip also means leaving Providence, my home for the last four years. I've really gained a family here of people I really care about and will really really miss. I've been so happy here, I can't imagine not being here. Tonight I spent some time with a bunch of different friends trying to do things I think I'll miss (meeting street cookies, swinging in the playground, going to the gcb) and I kept wanting to just stop time and stay in those places forever.
After that faze, I've started to become less worried about the trip and more aware of the fact that starting the trip also means leaving Providence, my home for the last four years. I've really gained a family here of people I really care about and will really really miss. I've been so happy here, I can't imagine not being here. Tonight I spent some time with a bunch of different friends trying to do things I think I'll miss (meeting street cookies, swinging in the playground, going to the gcb) and I kept wanting to just stop time and stay in those places forever.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Providence to Newport
On a gray New England morning, Jason and I set off for Newport. We rode over the Seekonk River and flew down the East Bay Bike Path with a brief stop at Your Bike Shop (winner of the best bike shop location ever) in Warren, so I could buy a much-needed pump. The guy in the shop even managed to attach my new pump to the ridiculously curved top tube of my bike. Thanks!
With fully inflated tires, we pressed on, through Bristol to the Mt. Hope Bridge. Now, I'd heard stories of the Mt. Hope Bridge. I'd heard that it was narrow -- only one lane in each direction -- and thus, terrifying. As we rounded the bend towards the bridge, Jason yelled "Good luck!" at me and I took a deep breath. I wasn't prepared for how tall the bridge was but after the long flat bike path I had plenty of strength to power up the bridge and then coast, white-knuckled, down the other side, to Aquidneck Island.
From here, the path was more confusing. We made a wrong turn onto 114 instead of 138 and encountered some of the biggest hills I've ever ridden (ok, smaller than the Appalachians, but still big.) We rode up and down and up and down until we managed to find a road we knew. We took a brief stop for a wander through an old-growth beech forest I'd been to before (I ignored Jason's grumbling about cycling with a biology major -- it was beautiful.)
From then on, it was downhill, through farms and suburbs until we reached the beach.
And even better than the beach, lunch!
So after lunch, we just maybe got lost, and spent an hour riding through the farms in Portsmouth and Middletown. And just maybe, we got tired and turned around and took the ferry home. Not that I consider that giving up or anything, because all together, we rode 50 miles (!!!) and had a great time.
The End.
View Larger Map
With fully inflated tires, we pressed on, through Bristol to the Mt. Hope Bridge. Now, I'd heard stories of the Mt. Hope Bridge. I'd heard that it was narrow -- only one lane in each direction -- and thus, terrifying. As we rounded the bend towards the bridge, Jason yelled "Good luck!" at me and I took a deep breath. I wasn't prepared for how tall the bridge was but after the long flat bike path I had plenty of strength to power up the bridge and then coast, white-knuckled, down the other side, to Aquidneck Island.
From here, the path was more confusing. We made a wrong turn onto 114 instead of 138 and encountered some of the biggest hills I've ever ridden (ok, smaller than the Appalachians, but still big.) We rode up and down and up and down until we managed to find a road we knew. We took a brief stop for a wander through an old-growth beech forest I'd been to before (I ignored Jason's grumbling about cycling with a biology major -- it was beautiful.)
From then on, it was downhill, through farms and suburbs until we reached the beach.
And even better than the beach, lunch!
So after lunch, we just maybe got lost, and spent an hour riding through the farms in Portsmouth and Middletown. And just maybe, we got tired and turned around and took the ferry home. Not that I consider that giving up or anything, because all together, we rode 50 miles (!!!) and had a great time.
The End.
View Larger Map
bike and build is everywhere
I went to Ben and Jerry's last night with Ayelet and Jonah and while we were sitting, eating our ice cream, a huge group of people walked into the shop. Who are all these people, I wondered, and why are they descending on Ben and Jerry's? Luckily, Ayelet had the answer: they were the Providence to Seattle Bike and Build trip, getting started on a summer of ice cream eating.
The more I run into Bike and Builders in Providence, the more and more I get excited about leaving for Boston next week.
The more I run into Bike and Builders in Providence, the more and more I get excited about leaving for Boston next week.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
in the merry month of may...
When I was in high school I sang in a choir where we gave a concert every may and sang this ear worm "in the merry month of may..." I love the month of May, especially now that I live in a place where May means sunshine and warm weather have finally arrived. What happened this May, while I wasn't posting on my blog?
First, I graduated college. That was pretty exciting. It's a little wierd to realize I'm not a student anymore, especially since I'm still kicking around Providence. I moved out of my house and into a sublet I have until the trip starts but whenever I walk past my old house, I want to go inside.
I've also been doing lots of bike training. My friend Liz showed me an area in Seekonk, Mass which is full of winding roads through forests and farms. It's been a great place to train and I've been doing a lot of 20-30 mile rides. At first the rides were pretty hard, but now, whenever I finish, I feel like I could keep going all day. I'm planning to ride to Newport tomorrow, which will be 37 miles each way, by far the longest I'll ever have ridden.
I also made a brief appearance at the Providence to San Francisco orientation a few days ago looking for a bike pump to borrow since the floor pump I usually use is back in PA with my roommate. I didn't know quite where orientation was -- my friend just knew it was in a church near Wayland Square. So biked over there and found a car with a black and pink Dolce strapped to the back. Aha, I thought, a Bike and Builder! I followed the car for a bit, then lost it, but managed to find a group of guys with matching Allez's and clip-in shoes at a stop light -- more Bike and Builders! They directed me to the church where i found a pump to borrow and also probably confused a lot of people. Anyway, thanks guys -- having fully inflated tires made my ride much more pleasant and it was also pretty exciting to see so many bike and builders in one place.
First, I graduated college. That was pretty exciting. It's a little wierd to realize I'm not a student anymore, especially since I'm still kicking around Providence. I moved out of my house and into a sublet I have until the trip starts but whenever I walk past my old house, I want to go inside.
I've also been doing lots of bike training. My friend Liz showed me an area in Seekonk, Mass which is full of winding roads through forests and farms. It's been a great place to train and I've been doing a lot of 20-30 mile rides. At first the rides were pretty hard, but now, whenever I finish, I feel like I could keep going all day. I'm planning to ride to Newport tomorrow, which will be 37 miles each way, by far the longest I'll ever have ridden.
I also made a brief appearance at the Providence to San Francisco orientation a few days ago looking for a bike pump to borrow since the floor pump I usually use is back in PA with my roommate. I didn't know quite where orientation was -- my friend just knew it was in a church near Wayland Square. So biked over there and found a car with a black and pink Dolce strapped to the back. Aha, I thought, a Bike and Builder! I followed the car for a bit, then lost it, but managed to find a group of guys with matching Allez's and clip-in shoes at a stop light -- more Bike and Builders! They directed me to the church where i found a pump to borrow and also probably confused a lot of people. Anyway, thanks guys -- having fully inflated tires made my ride much more pleasant and it was also pretty exciting to see so many bike and builders in one place.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
who needs to shift?
Trek introduces an automatic shifting bicycle:
"It's easy, you just hop on and ride," Correa said. The bike, meant for recreational riders, shifts through three gears using an electronic shifter in its rear hub and powered by a generator in its front hub. Though Correa had a few reservations, he was impressed. He liked the bike's retro styling and ergonomics--an easily adjustable seat and handlebars make it comfortable. He had to get used to not reaching for the gears, but said, "It can really handle the hills."
I don't know -- I like being able to decide how hard, or easy, I want to take a hill.
"It's easy, you just hop on and ride," Correa said. The bike, meant for recreational riders, shifts through three gears using an electronic shifter in its rear hub and powered by a generator in its front hub. Though Correa had a few reservations, he was impressed. He liked the bike's retro styling and ergonomics--an easily adjustable seat and handlebars make it comfortable. He had to get used to not reaching for the gears, but said, "It can really handle the hills."
I don't know -- I like being able to decide how hard, or easy, I want to take a hill.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
rain!
With all the beautiful clear weather over the last few weeks I forgot what weather in Providence is really like. Yesterday Rachel, my friend who's biking Providence to San Francisco this summer, and I biked to Providence Bicycle in this fog that was so wet it turned into rain once we got moving on the bikes. We bought clipless pedals (really, they should be called just clip pedals, since you clip your foot into them). The guy who sold them too us refused to install the pedals on a rainy day so I'll have to go back sometime in the undetermined future (if it ever stops raining). I don't really mind riding in the rain too much, but I don't have the clothing to do it without getting soaked through very quickly (note to self: rainpants aren't very useful in California anyway, so don't leave them at home).
Rachel and I went fundraising in Keeney, the big freshman dorm. It went much better than expected: people were so friendly and almost everyone gave us a few coins. We raised $85 in an hour and a half, and only interrupted one freshman 'special moment.' He didn't give us any money.
Today I'll try and get all my school work done so I can go riding when the sun finally comes back.
Rachel and I went fundraising in Keeney, the big freshman dorm. It went much better than expected: people were so friendly and almost everyone gave us a few coins. We raised $85 in an hour and a half, and only interrupted one freshman 'special moment.' He didn't give us any money.
Today I'll try and get all my school work done so I can go riding when the sun finally comes back.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
bike-tastic weekend
Riding around on my new bike has been divine. I finally get why people get so excited about road bikes.
On Friday afternoon I went on a nice slow ride down the bike path with my spinning teacher, who's also a prof. for the intro bio class at Brown, and a bunch of other professors and T.A.s for the class. My roommate Kristen also came along. There were not one, but two former Bike and Builders on the ride and it was pretty cool to get advice from them.
We didn't go that fast but it was nice to get used to my bike, especially the shifting system, which still seems counter-intuitive to me. There are levers, kind of under the thumb, to switch the smaller gears up and the bigger gears down and pulling the brakes sideways switches the smaller gears down and the bigger gears up. Yeah, I know. For a while I'd just pull something whenever I wanted to change gears and see what happened, but now I think I've got it.
I also wiped out in a pretty spectacular fashion. Going way too fast plus trying to turn plus gravel is apparently a great recipe for having the bike fall out from under you, smacking you on the ground. While I lay dazed on the ground, my professor ran up to me asking "is your bike ok?" Luckily it was and I escaped with a few scratches on my arms and elbows and a fabulous purple bruise that's bigger than my fist from where my inner thigh hit the top tube. Once I was back on the road, one of the former Bike and Builder's told me about this day on his trip in Iowa where they had ten miles of straight gravel. Just great :)
We turned around at Riverside, about a 20 mile round trip.
Even though the ride wasn't so hard, my arms, shoulders, and butt were all pretty sore the next day. Since it's biking, the solution always seems to be, more gear! I went to Caster's bike shop in Warwick, which has the friendliest staff I've ever encountered at any store, and bought my first pair of bike shorts, padded biking gloves, and a seat bag. I also stopped by The Hub, a bike shop down the block from me, to get a spare tube and a pump in case I get a flat.
I of course needed to try out all the new gear, so on Sunday I tackled the bike path again with my friend Stuart, who biked from Providence to Seattle with Bike and Build a few years ago. We biked to Bristol and back, 30 miles total, and even though it threatened to rain the whole way, it didn't.
On Friday afternoon I went on a nice slow ride down the bike path with my spinning teacher, who's also a prof. for the intro bio class at Brown, and a bunch of other professors and T.A.s for the class. My roommate Kristen also came along. There were not one, but two former Bike and Builders on the ride and it was pretty cool to get advice from them.
We didn't go that fast but it was nice to get used to my bike, especially the shifting system, which still seems counter-intuitive to me. There are levers, kind of under the thumb, to switch the smaller gears up and the bigger gears down and pulling the brakes sideways switches the smaller gears down and the bigger gears up. Yeah, I know. For a while I'd just pull something whenever I wanted to change gears and see what happened, but now I think I've got it.
I also wiped out in a pretty spectacular fashion. Going way too fast plus trying to turn plus gravel is apparently a great recipe for having the bike fall out from under you, smacking you on the ground. While I lay dazed on the ground, my professor ran up to me asking "is your bike ok?" Luckily it was and I escaped with a few scratches on my arms and elbows and a fabulous purple bruise that's bigger than my fist from where my inner thigh hit the top tube. Once I was back on the road, one of the former Bike and Builder's told me about this day on his trip in Iowa where they had ten miles of straight gravel. Just great :)
We turned around at Riverside, about a 20 mile round trip.
Even though the ride wasn't so hard, my arms, shoulders, and butt were all pretty sore the next day. Since it's biking, the solution always seems to be, more gear! I went to Caster's bike shop in Warwick, which has the friendliest staff I've ever encountered at any store, and bought my first pair of bike shorts, padded biking gloves, and a seat bag. I also stopped by The Hub, a bike shop down the block from me, to get a spare tube and a pump in case I get a flat.
I of course needed to try out all the new gear, so on Sunday I tackled the bike path again with my friend Stuart, who biked from Providence to Seattle with Bike and Build a few years ago. We biked to Bristol and back, 30 miles total, and even though it threatened to rain the whole way, it didn't.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
bike!
My bike came today -- on my birthday which is pretty much the best thing ever. I can't get over how light it is. Kristen has already named it "bobby."
Friday, April 4, 2008
New York Times Survey
31% of respondents said they were "very worried" about being able to afford housing costs and 38% were somewhat concerned.
When asked, "what do you think is the most important economic problem facing the country," the third and fourth most common answers were "the home mortgage crisis" and "housing' respectively.
More here
When asked, "what do you think is the most important economic problem facing the country," the third and fourth most common answers were "the home mortgage crisis" and "housing' respectively.
More here
Monday, March 31, 2008
rolling along
It's the first day after spring break and I am feeling very blah in the gray Providence weather. I spent a week in Puerto Rico with a couple of friends which was amazing. I'd never been to the Carribean before, nor had I really ever "done spring break." Well, it wasn't the typical college spring break at our old folk and family resort, but the beach was beautiful and I had a wonderful, relaxing time. I got to go hiking in a rainforest, swimming at the bottom of a waterfall, and kayaking in a bioluminescent bay at night (which was pretty extraordinary).
Now that I'm back at Brown I have a week and a half before my thesis presentation and a little over two weeks before my first draft is due. I made a resolution to ride my bike every day but already on the second day I've fallen down on the job -- I spent the morning working in the lab with some data, and then I had class, and after that it was raining and I was back in the library (where I still am). I just discovered this amazing piece of software called endnote which will apparently organize all of my citations and references for me and even write the bibliography -- so all is not gloomy.
I'm taking a spinning class which meets Tuesday and Thursday mornings as part of my training for the trip. When I signed up I was pretty sure that I would hate it; I mean, an hour of super-intense cycling, in place, crammed in a room with a ton of other people, being yelled at by some fitness-crazed instructor? What's to like?
But, it turns out it isn't that bad. My instructor is actually the physiology professor at Brown who's both knowledgeable and (thankfully) calm. He talks a lot about heartrate zones (from 1 to 5) and the importance of recovery. Now when I bike around campus I'm more aware of how hard I'm working it helps to know that even though the hill I'm biking on may look long, I know from spinning that I can keep going at this intensity for enough time. So I'm gaining a lot of confidence in my riding. It's also kind of a rush to imagine when we're biking up a "hill" in class that I'm biking up some huge mountain in the desert or something.
Another piece of good news is that I'm going Wednesday morning to get fitted for my bike! I am so excited. Here's the bike I will most likely get (unless the guys version fits my unlady-like self better) . It's quite a step up from Esmerelda.
Now that I'm back at Brown I have a week and a half before my thesis presentation and a little over two weeks before my first draft is due. I made a resolution to ride my bike every day but already on the second day I've fallen down on the job -- I spent the morning working in the lab with some data, and then I had class, and after that it was raining and I was back in the library (where I still am). I just discovered this amazing piece of software called endnote which will apparently organize all of my citations and references for me and even write the bibliography -- so all is not gloomy.
I'm taking a spinning class which meets Tuesday and Thursday mornings as part of my training for the trip. When I signed up I was pretty sure that I would hate it; I mean, an hour of super-intense cycling, in place, crammed in a room with a ton of other people, being yelled at by some fitness-crazed instructor? What's to like?
But, it turns out it isn't that bad. My instructor is actually the physiology professor at Brown who's both knowledgeable and (thankfully) calm. He talks a lot about heartrate zones (from 1 to 5) and the importance of recovery. Now when I bike around campus I'm more aware of how hard I'm working it helps to know that even though the hill I'm biking on may look long, I know from spinning that I can keep going at this intensity for enough time. So I'm gaining a lot of confidence in my riding. It's also kind of a rush to imagine when we're biking up a "hill" in class that I'm biking up some huge mountain in the desert or something.
Another piece of good news is that I'm going Wednesday morning to get fitted for my bike! I am so excited. Here's the bike I will most likely get (unless the guys version fits my unlady-like self better) . It's quite a step up from Esmerelda.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Esmeralda
The photo at the top of my blog is a picture of the first bike I ever called mine. It wasn't really mine but an old beater left behind by some scientist who'd moved away from Koeln before I got there. Alexis, one of my co-workers, had locked it on an outside bike rack a few blocks from her flat in Ehrenfeld. When we went to get it, there was a flat tire and one of the rods holding the fender had been pried loose. It was bright emerald green fading the bright sparkly purple, covered in spots of rust.
I didn't know how to fix a flat tire and neither did Alexis, so we found her roommate -- a muscular German who I think worked as a telemarketer or phone operator and was trying to learn Spanish so he could expand his clientele. We needed a new tube and the hardware store would close in five minutes. So the three of us ran to Alexis's roommate's car and he zipped through the city to the hardware where I bought a tube. Then we zipped back and Alexis's roommate repaired the tire. Oops, he said, we bought a size too small. When I got onto the bike, the front tire sagged. It will be ok, he reassured me. He then pointed out other things i'd need to have fixed: the bald patch on the rear tire, the protruding fender-attacher thing.
I wasn't very good at biking back then, especially on the narrow pathways in the central city, so I walked my bike to the U-bahn and carried it down the stairs and on to the train. When I got back to my own U-bahn stop, Aussere Kanalstrasse, I weighed taking the bus closer to home but, feeling adventurous with my new bike, I decided to ride. I was really shaky and with each pedal the bike crunched. On the one hill I faced, I tried to shift gears but nothing happened.
The next day Alexis showed me the toy store/ stationary store in Vogelsang which also fixed bikes. The repairer didn't speak English but I could sense his disapproval when I wheeled my sorry looking bike into the shop. He started mumbling to himself, as if taking notes of everything that needed to be fixed. I managed to explain that I'd only be using it for two months and all I needed was it to be safe -- not perfect. Ok, Ok, he said and I walked out into the garden outside to wait. I read and two children played around me. One ran up next to me and screamed "Hier ist ein schoene Ort fuer PISSEN!" I didn't need an interpreter to understand and I spent the next hour walking around until the bike was ready. The gears still didn't work but the crunching was a bit better.
I biked all over Koeln on that bike: to the healthfood store on Venloerstrasse, into the Neumarkt to go shopping, and up the Rhine just to explore. I still have faint scars on my forearm from when I crashed into a thorn bush on it. Leaving my bike in the bike rack at the Max Planck was much sadder than i thought it would be. I like to name bikes, and I named this one Esmeralda. I wonder if she's still sitting on that bike rack or whether some poor temporary worker at the MPIZ is riding around on her, cursing the gear changer.
I didn't know how to fix a flat tire and neither did Alexis, so we found her roommate -- a muscular German who I think worked as a telemarketer or phone operator and was trying to learn Spanish so he could expand his clientele. We needed a new tube and the hardware store would close in five minutes. So the three of us ran to Alexis's roommate's car and he zipped through the city to the hardware where I bought a tube. Then we zipped back and Alexis's roommate repaired the tire. Oops, he said, we bought a size too small. When I got onto the bike, the front tire sagged. It will be ok, he reassured me. He then pointed out other things i'd need to have fixed: the bald patch on the rear tire, the protruding fender-attacher thing.
I wasn't very good at biking back then, especially on the narrow pathways in the central city, so I walked my bike to the U-bahn and carried it down the stairs and on to the train. When I got back to my own U-bahn stop, Aussere Kanalstrasse, I weighed taking the bus closer to home but, feeling adventurous with my new bike, I decided to ride. I was really shaky and with each pedal the bike crunched. On the one hill I faced, I tried to shift gears but nothing happened.
The next day Alexis showed me the toy store/ stationary store in Vogelsang which also fixed bikes. The repairer didn't speak English but I could sense his disapproval when I wheeled my sorry looking bike into the shop. He started mumbling to himself, as if taking notes of everything that needed to be fixed. I managed to explain that I'd only be using it for two months and all I needed was it to be safe -- not perfect. Ok, Ok, he said and I walked out into the garden outside to wait. I read and two children played around me. One ran up next to me and screamed "Hier ist ein schoene Ort fuer PISSEN!" I didn't need an interpreter to understand and I spent the next hour walking around until the bike was ready. The gears still didn't work but the crunching was a bit better.
I biked all over Koeln on that bike: to the healthfood store on Venloerstrasse, into the Neumarkt to go shopping, and up the Rhine just to explore. I still have faint scars on my forearm from when I crashed into a thorn bush on it. Leaving my bike in the bike rack at the Max Planck was much sadder than i thought it would be. I like to name bikes, and I named this one Esmeralda. I wonder if she's still sitting on that bike rack or whether some poor temporary worker at the MPIZ is riding around on her, cursing the gear changer.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Affordable Housing in New York
When I started thinking about Bike and Build, I knew that affordable housing is an important cause, but i had no idea how widespread it is, nor how cdeeply it effects those that I'm close to. My cousins Rhonda and Eric and their son Ethan live in Manhattan which is, as Rhonda described, in an affordable housing crisis right now as skyrocketing rents are pushing those who aren't very wealthy out of the city. Here's an article from the NYTimes from last December about the building my cousins live in.
The New York Times
December 10, 2007 Monday
Late Edition - Final
School Moves to Sell Its Middle-Class Housing
BYLINE: By FERNANDA SANTOS
SECTION: Section B; Column 0; Metropolitan Desk; Pg. 3
On June 6, Meryl Fenster, a retired public school teacher, arrived home to find a letter from her landlord taped to her front door. It said that her building -- the last one on the Upper West Side to offer subsidized rental apartments under the state's Mitchell-Lama program -- was being sold to a private developer.
Ms. Fenster has lived in the building, known as Trinity House, for 30 years. ''The whole idea for Mitchell-Lama was to enable middle-class and working-class people to stay in Manhattan, which was a wonderful thing,'' Ms. Fenster, 65, said yesterday. ''But no one cares anymore. Everything is about making money these days.''
Trinity House, on West 92nd Street between Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues, was built in 1968 by the Trinity School, a private institution that occupies the first three floors and charges tuition of up to $30,000 a year. The letter on Ms. Fenster's door explained that the school had decided to sell the building to ''concentrate its resources and expertise on its core mission,'' and assured residents that there would be no change in the ''quality of the building services.''
''We're not in the business of being landlords,'' Myles Amend, director of development and alumni relations at the school, said in an interview yesterday. ''Our business is education.''
But for Ms. Fenster and many of her neighbors, the sale of Trinity House is unsettling -- a prelude, they believe, to the creation of the kind of upscale housing that few of them could afford. More than a dozen of the building's tenants staged a protest rally outside the school yesterday, chanting, ''Don't sell, save our homes,'' and holding signs that read: ''Teach by Example: Don't Sell Out.''
''This is not about individual fortunes,'' said James Paul, co-chairman of the Trinity House Tenants Association. ''This is about preserving affordable housing in the neighborhood.''
The state Mitchell-Lama program was created in 1955 to encourage the construction of lower-income housing. Developers agreed to charge below-market rates for rentals and co-op purchases in return for tax breaks and government-sponsored loans. After 20 or 25 years, owners are allowed to leave the housing program by paying off the low-interest mortgage. In recent years, with the rental market surging, many of them have done just that.
In its own letter to Trinity House tenants, the developer, Pembroke Properties Inc., said that once the sale was complete, it would apply to withdraw the building from the Mitchell-Lama program and turn 161 of its 200 units into rent-stabilized apartments. (The school will retain ownership of 39 units now leased to some of its teachers.) The terms of the sale must be approved by the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development, which guarantees mortgages under the program, and the city's Department of Housing Preservation and Development, which oversees 81 local Mitchell-Lama buildings, including Trinity House.
In a separate letter to elected officials, Pembroke wrote that its ultimate goal was to convert the apartments at Trinity House into condominiums, which would be offered to current tenants at a below-market price. Tenants who could not afford to buy would be allowed to continue renting their apartments, the letter said, but once those units were vacated, the developer could renovate and sell them at market price.
At the Leader House, at 100 West 93rd Street, a former Mitchell-Lama rental building Pembroke bought several years ago, a refurbished two-bedroom unit is listed for $1.2 million.
''There are all kinds of households in our building, all kinds of backgrounds, and it's a shame if this diversity is lost,'' said Eric Weisberg, 54, who has lived at Trinity House with his wife and son since 1981.
The rally coincided with the school's annual holiday celebration, forcing parents and students to walk past a long line of protesting tenants to get inside. Many of the parents said they did not know anything about the sale; one woman told her son that ''the people are upset because the school wants to sell their home,'' but she refused to speak to reporters, as did several other parents.
Mr. Amend, of the Trinity School, said that the school had never made money from its ownership of Trinity House and, at times, subsidized its operation. For years, he added, the school has been looking to sell the building, which was constructed as part of a deal with the city and other entities to allow for the school's expansion and contribute to the redevelopment of the Upper West Side, then a more unstable neighborhood.
''We believe we've found a buyer that has the best interests of the tenants in mind,'' he said. ''And we do not believe that the tenants will suffer as a result of the sale.''
A spokesman for Pembroke could not be reached for comment yesterday.
The school stands to make $24 million from the building's sale, and the money will be added to its endowment to provide more financial-aid opportunities, improve its curriculum and increase teachers' salaries, Mr. Amend said. He said that the school had no plans to expand, as it did in the early 1990s, when it tried to take over the tenants' community room and fourth-floor recreation area. The tenants revolted, and the school eventually lost the fight.
''Everyone said back then that we would never win, but we did win,'' said Mr. Paul, of the tenants' association. ''We feel that we can win this battle, too. Our cause is just and our tenants are united.''
Saturday, February 2, 2008
the second half
I've talked a lot about biking but not so much about building. Today I went with the Brown Habitat for Humanity Chapter on a build. The site supervisor for the house we were supposed to work on wasn't there so we ended up at another house which was pretty much done. We built the last part of the fence, poured some cement, and shoveled a lot of dirt. I really think that cement is one of the coolest substances ever: want to make a rock? Just add water and stir. If only everything else was so simple.
Afterwards, we got to watch the dedication ceremony where the new homeowners got the keys to their house so they could move in. The new house was absolutely gorgeous and it made me really happy to see how happy they were about it.
Afterwards, we got to watch the dedication ceremony where the new homeowners got the keys to their house so they could move in. The new house was absolutely gorgeous and it made me really happy to see how happy they were about it.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
First Ride
January 26, 2007
Miles: 14
Flat Tires: 1
My roommate Kristen and I went on our first official training ride on Saturday. It was a gorgeous windy 32 degree day. We rode east, over the Seekonk river and down the East Bay bike path, which is this gorgeous path that runs along the Narragansett Bay. Our goal was Bristol but the path was closed at Riverside, so we turned around and went home.
Actually, it was so cold that we didn't really mind.
On the way back, the wind was behind is, perfect for getting up to the 'Big Three' gear and practicing no-handed cycling. On the trip I learned that my bike seat isn't as comfortable as I thought it was and that crotch-denumbing breaks are really the quickest route to hyperthermia. I also learned that I can have a good time even if I can't feel my feet.
Miles: 14
Flat Tires: 1
My roommate Kristen and I went on our first official training ride on Saturday. It was a gorgeous windy 32 degree day. We rode east, over the Seekonk river and down the East Bay bike path, which is this gorgeous path that runs along the Narragansett Bay. Our goal was Bristol but the path was closed at Riverside, so we turned around and went home.
Actually, it was so cold that we didn't really mind.
On the way back, the wind was behind is, perfect for getting up to the 'Big Three' gear and practicing no-handed cycling. On the trip I learned that my bike seat isn't as comfortable as I thought it was and that crotch-denumbing breaks are really the quickest route to hyperthermia. I also learned that I can have a good time even if I can't feel my feet.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Starting
Hi and welcome to my new journal (isn't blog such a strange word?)
As you may already know, I will be biking from Boston to Santa Barbara this summer with Bike & Build, a nonprofit which raises money and awareness for affordable housing causes. I'm more than a little nervous: will I make it over the Appalacians and across the desert? Will I even be able to balance on skinny tires of my road bike? Will I make my $4,000 fundraising goal?
But beyond the nervousness, I am SO EXCITED. I decided to make a list about what I'm excited to do:
1. Spending the whole summer traveling.
2. Learning something about house building (anything would be a start).
3. Meeting people along the way (I feel very sheltered in a way, only having lived in California and Providence, like there's this whole other world in the middle of the country, the red states if you will, that I know nothing about).
4. Getting what my mom calls "Shwartzenegger Legs."
5. Seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time (and also the Hoover Dam, Las Vegas, the very large array, and Poughkeepsie: the town that convinced my father to move to California)
6. Being outside all the time.
7. Seeing the parts of the country I normally just fly over.
8. Challenging myself (no matter how corny that sounds I think I mean it).
9. That deep sound sleep I get after working really hard.
10. Making it to the Pacific.
11. Writing about it.
The trip starts June 11 which feels like a century away. But before then I need to graduate college (which means finishing my thesis and surviving organic chemistry), find a job for after Bike & Build, raise a whole lot of money, and do a whole lot of training. Whew.
Thanks for reading!
As you may already know, I will be biking from Boston to Santa Barbara this summer with Bike & Build, a nonprofit which raises money and awareness for affordable housing causes. I'm more than a little nervous: will I make it over the Appalacians and across the desert? Will I even be able to balance on skinny tires of my road bike? Will I make my $4,000 fundraising goal?
But beyond the nervousness, I am SO EXCITED. I decided to make a list about what I'm excited to do:
1. Spending the whole summer traveling.
2. Learning something about house building (anything would be a start).
3. Meeting people along the way (I feel very sheltered in a way, only having lived in California and Providence, like there's this whole other world in the middle of the country, the red states if you will, that I know nothing about).
4. Getting what my mom calls "Shwartzenegger Legs."
5. Seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time (and also the Hoover Dam, Las Vegas, the very large array, and Poughkeepsie: the town that convinced my father to move to California)
6. Being outside all the time.
7. Seeing the parts of the country I normally just fly over.
8. Challenging myself (no matter how corny that sounds I think I mean it).
9. That deep sound sleep I get after working really hard.
10. Making it to the Pacific.
11. Writing about it.
The trip starts June 11 which feels like a century away. But before then I need to graduate college (which means finishing my thesis and surviving organic chemistry), find a job for after Bike & Build, raise a whole lot of money, and do a whole lot of training. Whew.
Thanks for reading!
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