Morning rash hour

Ever have one of those mornings? One of our staffmembers had a bit of a skid on his ride to work a few days ago. (His face has been cropped to protect his identity. But his name rhymes with Schmen.)

This afternoon we're starting a New Yorker style contest for our fans: Caption The Photo. We'll announce a winner in about a week, so send in your captions (via the blog comment feature). The winner gets... um... one of those handy little tire patch kits.

Actually, considering my flat record, perhaps I will send in a few entries myself. Now off to recruit some judges....

Easter finery = Spandex

I had planned to meet Team FeXY (www.teamfexy.com) this morning at 6:15 for a ride up Mt. Weather, but when I rolled over to silence the alarm at 4:30 this morning and saw the temperature sitting at a less than balmy 38 degrees, and felt my whole body protest that 5 hours was not enough sleep to pull of that ride, I decided that my next best option was the 9am shop ride!

I figured it would just be Caleb and me, since it is Easter Sunday, and many people were getting dressed up in Easter finery to head to church services, family events and brunches. I rolled out of bed at 7:30 feeling much more rested for the extra 3 hours sleep! I picked out my Easter outfit... Louis Garneau tri shorts, Pearl Izumi tights, a CHB jersey, a PI jacket, my helmet, some mid weight gloves, wool socks, and my bike shoes... so much better than the days of being forced into frills and lace and ridiculous hats.... Yep, I was always the girl who managed to get mud or grass stains on every outfit within minutes of putting it on.

I drove to the shop... I know, that was a slacker move. I got there with enough time to ride up to Peregrine for a mocha. I met a guy named Gene on a sweet Indi Fab rockin Campy Chorus there. He was waiting for friends to join him for another group ride. We talked a bit and drank coffee, then I headed back to the shop.

Arriving a couple of minutes before 9, I found a lone cyclist. He indicated to me that he was deaf, and did not seem to read lips. Without benefit of pen and paper, or sign language skills, I was at a loss for how to communicate with him. Another guy on a yummy Ti Seven rolled up. He introduced himself as Gary. We waited a few more minutes, and decided to go. Just Gary and I took off, our unidentified friend declined to join in.

Leading by default, I decided to go with my old standby... Mt. Vernon Trail! I knew I could get there without getting lost, which is always a bonus when leading a ride! It was a little chilly, but not nearly as chilly as it would have been at the crack of dawn! Cold is not my friend, but I am not a fan of the trainer by this time of year... we have spend a few too many hours together in the previous months.

The wind was stiff, which was great when we were riding with it... 20+mph with very little effort! Of course it balanced out when we were fighting it... Gary said he wanted to do a couple of hours, and I was just happy to have company for the first half of my long ride for the week. I was pretty sure no one was going to want to play for a few extra hours on the back end of the group ride.

We went south through Old Town Alex, through Belle Haven, and decided to hit Mt. Vernon before turning around. Traffic on the trail was light for a gorgeous Sunday on the way out. We hit a small mulch covered detour around trail maintenance, as we neared Mt. Vernon... I guess that is what cyclocross is like, and if my fantastic wreck into the orange mesh barrier was any indicator, I will not be trying cross anytime soon!

When we reached Mt. Vernon, we had a snack and headed back north. By this time, more people were out on the trail, and we had to slow more often. It gave me time to notice how the sun danced on the river. It looked as if the night sky had not disappeared, obscured by the sun, but had fallen into the water. It is moments like that when the yogini in me breathes deeply, and silently expresses gratitude for nature, life, and the ability to ride!

We navigated the trail back to 14th St without incident, and made our way up M to 8th and back to the shop. I waved goodbye to Gary and encouraged him to return. Then it was on with the rest of my workout!

Smuggling stuffed animals

One of the funniest comments I have heard thus far in my time at the shop came from a woman who was trying on padded women's cycling shorts yesterday:

"I feel like I'm smuggling stuffed animals in my pants."

In fact, I was not present during the sale of the abovementioned shorts, but I couldn't stop giggling when I heard about it and figured it might brighten up a few of your own days this grey Friday afternoon. Have you tried on padded bike shorts before? If so, you know what she's talking about. For my part, I'm hoping to get some padded shorts with the more swim-trunk-style over shorts for my trip. With pockets. So I can smuggle more teddy bears across state lines.

NO boys allowed

Today was our first women's lunch ride, and I kinda wish I'd brought lunch...

I am house sitting this week, so my stuff is scattered about, and I showed up this morning without a bike. I hadn't announced the ride on Facebook, and I figured I wouldn't have any takers. I was a bit disappointed, because it's a NICE day!

Ibti and I waited to see if anyone would show, and I made arrangements to "test ride" a shop bike..... About 1120, a girl named Carolyn came in to get her brakes looked at and asked about any group rides! She was in luck!!

I grabbed a Bianchi Elena, rolled up the cuffs of my jeans, grabbed a test ride helmet and off we went! Short sleeves! It felt great! We rode over the 14th Street bridge into Virginia. There was a still breeze coming in off the river. I was feeling a little overly excited to be riding off the trainer, and I nearly took a spill when I dragged a pedal in a curve near the marina.

The traffic on the trail was light, and the conversation lively! We made it into Old Town Alexandria and stopped for a snack... a snack that I didn't bring. DOH! I knew this as one of those familiar moments when my tri coach would want to smack me in the head with an aero-bar! I have a bad habit of forgetting to fuel up while riding... and running.... and swimming.

The whole ride was at a moderate pace, which I'd post had I been on a bike with a computer! We stuck together well, and Ibti gets props for being a new rider with a touring bike hangin with the road and tri girls!

So, now that the inaugural ride is over, I promise not to forget my bike or my food again! Come join us on Thursdays at 11:30 for a lunch break! We won't leave you behind... No boys allowed... unless you come in drag that is.

"What do you think this is, Candyland?"

Sometimes you just hear things that make you raise an eyebrow. Sure, maybe the context would help explain things, but sometimes it's just funnier to speculate. Here are a few of my favorite lines I've heard around the shop:

"Sometimes we're back here talking to each other, but sometimes we're talking to ourselves."

"I'm an ultra-endurance vegan."

"Yeah, who doesn't have a friend in intensive care?"

"Real men ride them big bikes. Now, where them big bikes at?"

"Nobody interviews the finance guy!"*

The new staff profiles are up. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guess which staff member utttered each incriminating statement above. The winner gets... a sense of satisfaction. (Hey, this isn't trivia night at Wonderland -- I'm not handing out free Miller High Life.)

*Note: Okay, that last one would be easy if Mike, the finance guy, would let me interview him. But he's somewhat shy. You won't see his profile pic on the staff page, so that was kind of a tricky one.

Capitol Hill Bikes and Art and Go Seek

It was a beautiful Saturday morning and the staff at the Capitol Hill Arts Workshop was preparing for Art and Go Seek, their annual scavenger hunt/fundraiser. For the second year in a row Capitol Hill Bikes participated as a stop along the route. We chose the theme (the benefits of cycling to the people and the Earth) and the project (window painting) and the CHAW volunteer, Theresa, did the rest. The result? A beautiful, collaborative window painting at the Capitol Hill Bikes Service Center. Check it out before the rain washes it away!

Hubris, anyone?

So I was talking yesterday about how I have gotten pretty efficient at changing bike tires. Well, apparently the gods perceived this as bragging, and I was put back in my place this morning. You guessed it: ANOTHER flat tire. (This is the first rear flat on Ollie).

I had gone to volunteer at the Capital Area Food Bank this morning before my shift at the bike shop. The radio forecast warned of extreme fog, but with my blinkers on I found the ride quite nice. (Certainly more pleasant than splashing through Rock Creek yesterday in the driving rain.) The ride was almost a straight shot east on Irving Street, then onto Michigan Avenue (a bit dicey during rush hour, though), and up John McCormack. No problems. The ride from the food bank to work, however, was significantly more eventful, starting with the popping sound of my rear tire not 10 minutes into the ride and ending with... well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was riding down 4th Street, NE, with plenty of time to get to Eastern Market and daydreaming about getting in early enough to swing by Peregrine and grab an espresso before work, when I heard a pop. Then grinding. Then I was bouncing around on the bike seat. A flat tire. How nice. It's been... hours. So I pulled out my gear. Tire patches: check. Sandpaper: check. Plastic tire shoe horn thingies: check. Tire pump: doh! I walked back up 4th Street for about 5 blocks to where I'd noticed a gas station on the ride past. I flipped Ollie over, removed the wheel, the tire, the tube. Then I went to grab the air pump outside of the station. And of course the attachment was the wrong size. So I left the bike with the mechanic, Paz (nice guy), and headed over a few blocks to the Auto Zone where I rummaged around a few aisles and picked up some pump adaptors. Which, when I returned to the gas station, I discovered didn't work. Luckily I was only out $3 at this point, but now I would be late for work. And I had no idea how I was going to get there.

Now, I consider myself a relatively savvy city girl. I've been stranded all over the place (too many to get into here, but Yerevan, Guatemala City, and rural Bolivia come to mind) and have always managed to get where I needed to go eventually. I'm in Washington: there's public transit. I wasn't sure about putting just the back wheel on with no tire, so I carried my bike to the Rhode Island metro station which, conveniently, was only about 5 blocks away. (P.S.- Walking around town carrying a bike: not a bad workout, either. Yeah, maybe I'm just not getting enough exercise these days.) Not much to report about the next portion of my journey, but I did get some funny looks on the train with Ollie slung over my shoulder and tire/wheel/tube in my hand. Oh, and I was covered with grease. That might have been part of it. In general, people were pretty nice on the metro, and I chatted with someone or other for most of the ride. Lots of sympathy, which I hadn't expected. I made it to Eastern Market and then had a mere 5 blocks or so to schlep Ollie and I was home free. Or at least near a tire pump....