Bike to Work Day, 2022-Style

We had a reputation, in years gone by, for rolling up to this “energizer station” with a group of two dozen or more cyclists.

Today? Me and six guys. But hey, it could've been just me.

At least one was joining us for the first time, so ... that's something. And we welcomed one colleague on a vintage special-edition folding bike. I was impressed that the thing was still functional, having been disappointed in its build quality on a test ride, back in the day.

We were sorely disappointed to find no Hobee's coffeecake this year. I know the volunteers meant well, but a cookie thickly coated with sugary icing is not appetizing at 8 a.m. [Not to me, anyway.]

A day or two ago, one of my steady co-leaders had sadly tested positive for Covid-19 and thus had to stay home; one of the other riders gamely stepped up to steer folks to our rendezvous point.

I knew what to expect at the office: The ventilation in our building's shower room has not been improved, but (like last week) I would be the only one to use it.

At the end of the day, I pedaled (solo) back home; the usual round trip of 40 miles and about 1,000 feet of climbing, the usual (gradual) uphill return.

Unfortunately, I somehow irritated something in my back on an after-work ride yesterday. Today's riding didn't feel great, but luckily didn't exacerbate it. Methinks I'll be off the bike for a while, until it's sorted out.

Game On

Bike to Work Day is going to be A Thing again this year, now that we have officially “returned to office.” Although I've traditionally led a group of coworkers to the office for this event, I figured I would just do my own ride this year.

Then two of my regular partners-in-leading reached out, and ... I ... just ... couldn't ... say ... no.

Oddly, instead of adhering to the usual third-Thursday schedule for the event, the Bay Area “energizer stations” will only be available on Friday (and Saturday and Sunday, go figure).

Okay, then: Friday it will be. There's no actual celebration at the office, anyway; and as far as they're concerned, you'll earn your schwag by bike-commuting any day that week.

Ride leaders get extra schwag (a Bike-to-Work-Week t-shirt), and they suggested we pick them up over lunch today and share tips with one another.

Was I going to drive to the office? [Of course not.] Besides, a preview ride seemed warranted before the big day.

The company is so big now ... We met in some newly-redone building, unexpectedly eating indoors. [Yikes!] I have not shared indoor space with other people for a meal since The Before Times. I recognized two of the other leaders, and tried to relax. [This is fine ...]

As it happened, we had some teammates visiting from an overseas office and there was a plan for a group dinner tonight. [Outdoors!] At a restaurant that was conveniently on my typical route home, so of course I said yes. [It was fine.]

Some of my newer colleagues found it inconceivable that I would bike 16 miles home after dinner. [Shrug.] Forty miles, and 1,000 feet of climbing, for the day.

February is Feasible

The unseasonably warm weather was irresistible.

There is just enough daylight to make it home without ducking out of work too early.

I had debated pulling the headlight off my helmet, as I haven't really needed it for the short rides home from the shuttle. Leaving it in place was a good call, as the last couple of miles turned legitimately dark.

A little over 37 miles, with 780 feet of climbing for this flatter version of my round-trip commute.

The next morning, my body reminded me that I haven't been getting enough exercise. [Must work on that.]

In With the New

Wintertime,
And my fingers are freezing.
Rooftops are frosted;
The sun is low in the sky.

Warm toes? Warm fingers? Pick one, because you can't have both on a chilly winter morning. By the time my fingers stopped stinging, my toes were numb. [Eh, it's not really that cold here.]

And what better day for a bike commute, when the office is empty. Best time of the year to catch up: no meetings, no interruptions, no one else around. It was so quiet in the afternoon that one of my colleagues couldn't take it anymore and headed back home to work from there.

A fine day for an early departure, to get home before dark!

Turning Twenty

My last ride of 2019. Last ride before that third digit flips from one to two. It's a turning point whether you declare that the new decade starts two days from now, or a year and two days from now.

It had rained overnight, but I wanted to fit in one more ride this year. Be mindful of slick painted lines and slippery metal rails and grates and shards of glass that adhere to your tires ... The ride would make a mess of the bike, but I so look forward to indulging in a few winter round-trip bike commutes during this quiet time between holidays, when I can duck out of the office early enough to get home before dark.

One year, someone had adorned the bronze quail near the Mary Avenue bridge with handmade red scarves. This year, I found them pressed into service pulling Santa's sleigh.

I clocked more than 2,590 biking miles this year (more than last year), but did less climbing (some 103,000 feet).

But, what about the last ten years? Well. Let's add it up.

I don't track the short utility rides on my folding bike (generally 15 miles per week), but I did wear out its rear tire. On my full-sized bikes, I spent ...

• in excess of 2,513 hours
• pedaling more than 28,259 miles and
  
• climbing over 1,493,389 feet
• in a dozen different countries.

That's once around the earth (and then some). Akin to more than 51 ascents of Mt. Everest (but without being challenged by high altitude). And equivalent to spending over 104 days on a bicycle.

One pedal stroke at a time.

Last Light

How many round-trip bike commutes could I squeeze in this week, the final week of daylight savings time? My work schedule would allow three.

The air quality, however, allowed two. See that orange haze in the distance? (Luckily I stopped for some photos on Thursday before heading home to greet the trick-or-treaters.)

Because, while the official forecast was unremarkable ... I woke up with a sore throat on Friday.

Maybe, maybe ... there can be a few more round trips before the year is over? (Just have to leave the office a bit on the, um, early side.)

Camp ... Home

I'll trade turkeys for traffic any day—they make for a much more interesting commute. Six of them were busy pecking something out of a suburban lawn. They were wary of this odd two-legged creature and her two-wheeled contraption, but they were more keen to keep eating.

My (thwarted) plan for the weekend had been to join some club members for a ride up the west side of San Francisco Bay, followed by a ride down the east side the next day. Commuting today was my consolation ride.

Is there a region immune from natural threats? Blizzards, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes ... For California, earthquakes come to mind; but we also have wildfires. It's fire season now, and with the Kincade fire raging north of our Saturday destination, I opted out. At first I was concerned about me: Why would I choose to ride toward, and into, the smoke? As the evacuation area expanded, I was more concerned about others: Why would I voluntarily leave my home and occupy a hotel room that could be used by any of the tens of thousands of evacuees?

When my electricity was cut off on Saturday night, I shouldn't have been surprised. Our embattled utility company had widely publicized that they planned to de-energize parts of their grid to avoid a repeat of the deadly fires they've been causing. While I wish their maintenance practices were such that they could safely operate their equipment, I accepted their decision. Better to inconvenience a million (?!) customers than to incinerate another town and kill people.

Their website had assured me that my place would not lose power, but I'd had my doubts. In fact, at the level of individual addresses, they don't actually know what's connected to what. [Quelle surprise.]

With the help of a flashlight, on Sunday I found my coolers and ventured out in search of ice to preserve what food I could. [Block ice, for the win! My grandmother would have been proud!] After breakfast, I think you'd agree that consuming most of my still-sealed container of now-soupy Phish Food was the obvious thing to do.

Biking to work on Monday was also the obvious thing to do (after that ice cream). “No electricity! No Wi-Fi!” a colleague exclaimed. [Shrug.] After dark, I caught up on some reading, the old-fashioned way. [Well, the paper was old-fashioned ... my light source was a USB-wired LED bulb connected to a power bank.]

Monday night, the lights flicked on—just minutes shy of 48 hours without power. I'm no camper, but I managed.

Infinite Loop

It's that fall-heat-wave time of year, and a Spare the Air Day had been declared—a fine day to bike to (and from) work.

I always see other cycling commuters, but we rarely chat (other than a friendly “good morning” or “on your left”).

This morning two of us were stopped at an intersection that has recently been reconfigured for cyclists, and I cannot figure out the city's intent. I struck up a conversation, and my fellow cyclist was just as mystified as I am.

Here is  the view from the southeast corner (where we were), facing in the direction we will travel (north). There is a dashed green bike lane for cyclists crossing from west to east; there is no bike lane  marked for cyclists heading north (there is a sharrow on the far side of the intersection, before the crosswalk).

But the oddest feature is the green square that has been painted in all four corners of this intersection, each with an arrow pointing left. It does not align with the bike lane, and if you needed to turn left, you would not make that turn from the far right edge of the right lane.

Here is the view from the southwest corner, captured on the way home after I crossed the intersection. Are they trying to tell us to turn left, directly into the path of straight-through traffic?

This is Cupertino, home to Apple; 1 Infinite Loop is not far away. If I followed these four boxes I would, in fact, circle the intersection forever. But this can't be some grand municipal joke ... can it?

The county is already setting up for the Fantasy of Lights; riding through a set of arches made for a triumphal celebration of my commute (38 miles and 920 feet of climbing). The end of daylight savings time will soon signal the end of my return commutes.

Engineering Cyclists

Today marked the 25th anniversary of Bike to Work Day in the Bay Area; for me, number thirteen.

Every year packs a few surprises. This year my new co-leader brought Penny (in her pink goggles).

We had the best lighting, ever, for our traditional group shot. This would be the first time I led an all-male group on Bike to Work Day.

There were about two dozen of us, including one guy on an “electric unicycle.”

When we swarmed the Cupertino Energizer Station, they told us we were early this year. [We're famous. Or infamous?]

Later, as we passed a construction site, a hard-hatted worker in a bright orange vest smiled and high-fived every one of us.

This would be our first year without my usual co-conspirator. We missed his smiles (and his mobile donut rig), and he missed riding with us. To commemorate the occasion nonetheless, he designed and 3D-printed bespoke tire levers as gifts for the group. [Engineers! I love 'em.]

Our organization's all-hands meeting was in progress when I rolled in. [Who scheduled that on Bike to Work Day?!] Luckily, I was not too late to score a jelly donut.

Nor was I too late to find a place for my bike on a rack in our building. (Whew!)

Two guys joined me for the return trip at the end of the day; somehow it always seems shorter when I have some company.

In all, 37 miles, 800 feet of climbing, and no rider left behind. [I do need to live up to that inscription on my (personalized) tire levers!]

Contact

I am a creature of habit. And so it is that, when stopped at a traffic light, you will find me thus:

Standing over my bike.
Right foot planted flat on the ground.
Left foot, unclipped, resting on the pedal.
Right hand engaging the rear brake.

I don't know why or when I developed this habit, but there it is.

And so it was this morning, when I learned that my bicycle can stop a rolling car.



Positioned on the bike sensor at the least-favorite intersection of my commute, I had noticed a minivan stop a few feet behind me.

Waiting at this seemingly interminable light, I thought no more about the minivan. Until ...

WHAM! The nose of my saddle punched my lower back.

What the ... did some cyclist just slam into me? I certainly didn't expect to find my rear wheel wedged [WEDGED!] under the front bumper of the aforementioned minivan.

Unable to free my wheel, I motioned (angrily) to the driver to BACK UP.

The wheel, and the tire, were fine—the latter despite being severely pinched by the minivan.

My habitual stance, whatever its origin, saved me from being (at best) knocked to the ground.

And while yes, this might have happened at any intersection, I have a new habit: Bypass this intersection, where the long wait drives people (literally) to distraction.

Pro tip: When stopped, keep your foot (or your hand) on the brake!

Crystal Blue Persuasion

The thing is ... it was 32°F on Wednesday morning. [Well, 32.2°F, to be precise.] And 32.7°F on Thursday.

The thing is ... the forecast was showing 100% chance of rain on Saturday; the sky today was clear and oh-so-blue.

The thing is ... there would be little traffic, since many people were extending their holiday time off.

The thing is ... I have not been getting enough exercise.

The thing is ... my morning calendar was clear.

The thing is ... no more excuses!

[Yes, that's more than one thing. I know.]

I pulled myself together, pumped up the tires, and pedaled off on my first ride of 2019. I skipped the club outings on January 1st, because ... I couldn't think of a good reason to go for a bike ride when the thermometer registered 33°F. [Yes, it was colder this morning; but I would be rewarded with a flaky chocolate croissant and a nice warm shower once I arrived at work.]

Look over yonder, what do you see?
The sun is a-risin', most definitely

The ride was ... ah, “invigorating” (once my frozen fingers stopped throbbing). There were very few people out and about, but the birds were twittering. I wondered how they managed, in the cold.

And then ...

On a city street I was startled by a sudden explosion of feathers.

It was an equally startled juvenile Cooper's Hawk, who was loath to abandon its squirrelly meal. [The carcass was still too meaty to carry off, I think.] I parked the bike and sidled ever closer, next to a conveniently parked car, without spooking the bird. [Much to the dismay of a crow with its eye on the prize, cawing high above us in a tree.]

I took the lazy/longer/flatter route (19.5 miles), which still amounted to 260 feet of climbing. [Well, I did go up the gratuitous hill. No excuses.]

It warmed up to 34°F on Friday, and the roads were even emptier. Three days, three rides to work.

There'll be peace and good, brotherhood ...

Closing Out 2018

I've admired this homeowner's display for the past few years, and each season I think “I should take a picture,” but I'm usually more keen to get home than to stop. And then, right after Christmas, the lights go out.

This year, I remembered. This year, I stopped.

Another year has passed. I managed to bike to (or from) work 62 times. Not bad, considering that each trip is 18+ miles. And overall, I biked more than 2,385 miles, climbing more than 105,172 feet along the way. More than last year. Less than next year? [We'll see.]

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

It's not a cloudy morning.

It's a smoky morning.

The fires raging through the hills of northern California are hundreds of miles away, but the smoke spreads. The prevailing westerly winds haven't been enough to clear it away.

I did a double-take yesterday morning when I awoke to a red glow on the wall: sunrise. The smoke layer above us colors the light.

Absent warnings about air quality, I biked to (and from) work. My schedule hasn't been bike-commute-friendly this summer. (Not being a “morning person,” anything earlier than a 9:30 a.m. meeting makes the 18-mile trip infeasible.) On some mornings, I do load my trusty steed onto a commuter shuttle—and bike home at the end of the day. One way is better than no way.

Today gave me the usual 36 miles and 1,000 feet of climbing. The sun will come out ... tomorrow.

Bike to Work Day Bunch

Bike to Work Day for me isn't just a another day to bike to work. That would be too simple.

It's a day to lead my colleagues to work.

There will always be riders to join me: some new, some regulars. We had an impressive contingent of first-timers, this year. Some sign up, some drop out, some know where (and roughly when) to meet us en route, and some ... just show up. One doesn't even work for the same company any more.

It all comes together, somehow.

With portable speakers on one rider's handlebars, the voice of Jim Morrison set the pace: Riders on the Storm.

By now, we have the timing well sorted out. Moments after we arrived at our rendezvous point, my co-leader rounded the corner with his group (eleven!) in tow.

After the traditional briefing (the most important rule: Have fun!) and group photo, our line of twenty-odd riders headed up the first bike bridge of the morning. Our route would carry us high above four different freeways, and more than one rider cackled gleefully at three lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic stopped below. “Wave!” I shouted.

I can always count on extra help: The rider who darts over to press the “walk” button to give us a longer interval for crossing major streets. The rider who hangs at the back, offering encouragement and ensuring that we lose no one.

As usual, we invaded the “energizer station” in a neighboring town, refueling on coffee cake (and for those who wanted it, actual coffee). As usual, they were highly amused. Many photos were taken, including a ring of ankles bedecked in last year's colorful Bike to Work Day socks.

The biggest surprise was meeting one of our executives there. My co-leader and I had no idea that our organization's senior vice president was on that town's bicycle advisory committee. And he certainly wasn't expecting to see the two of us roll up, trailing two dozen cyclists.

This was also our bifurcation point, this year. Roughly half the group followed my co-leader to Mountain View, while I led the rest to Sunnyvale. [My, how the company has grown!] Our building's bike storage room could hold no more.

My co-leader was game to try my route home; I did my best to keep the pace brisk. (For my definition of brisk; slow, for him.) I rounded out the day with 38 miles and 880 feet of climbing, but that's not the whole story.

After Sunday's 53-mile ride, I can tell you that my legs were sore on Monday. [Eh, whatever. Get over it.]

In honor of Bike to Work Week this year, I dialed it up a notch. [Okay, maybe a couple of notches.] There was also a round-trip commute on Monday (36 miles), plus one-way trips on Tuesday and Wednesday (together, 36 miles). That adds up to 110 miles of commuting and 2,920 feet of climbing for the week. Last year, I wasn't confident I'd make it past the rendezvous point.

Friday's a rest day. I need my legs for Mt. Hamilton on Saturday.

The Mighty Eucalyptus

I set off for home late on a blustery afternoon. No need to hurry, I told myself, with all that wind.

It's not unusual for me to pass a long line of cars along one stretch; some drivers prefer that route, even though a couple of stop signs cause traffic to back up.

Most of them, I expect, regretted their choice today.

I have to admit that I'm not a particular fan of eucalyptus trees. It's wise not to linger near them. Especially on windy days. Or hot days, when they sometimes explode.

I dismounted and took to the sidewalk, chatting with the firemen who were clearing the lane that they could. “It's not often we get to walk to a call,” they noted. (Their station is right across the street.)

Fortunately, there was no one in the path of that falling limb. “It was a close call,” a fireman said.

I can't begin to count the number of mornings I've pedaled beneath that monster and its neighbors, but I can tell you I'll be sprinting in the future.

Daylight Bonus

With a forecast for a dry day, I eagerly prepared for a long-overdue bike commute.

Then I woke up, groggy, to a chilly morning (37F). As the minutes ticked by, I doubted I could make it in time to get cleaned up before my first meeting of the day. [I've starred in this movie before ... ]

If I'm tired now, how would I have the energy to bike back home?

💡 But wait! That's it! Take the shuttle now, bike home later! 💡

With no time to waste, I showered, ate breakfast, swapped the street clothes I'd packed with my bike gear, and dashed off to catch the early bus. [I did forget my water bottle. And evidently I'd neglected to replace the spare I keep at the office ... sigh.]

I made it (barely). The bus caught me as I raced to the pick-up point. Our oh-so-thoughtful driver greeted me: “I was trying to figure out who it was!” she said. [Not my usual folding bike.]

How did I forget about this option? During the dark winter months, I take the shuttle home if I bike to work. With daylight savings time in effect, there is no good reason not to do the reverse when early morning meetings make it impractical for me to bike to work. [I am not now, never have been, and likely never will be, a “morning person.”]

The ride home felt delicious! [Well, except for the obvious reminder that I need more saddle time. Ahem.]

Coming Attractions

'Twas the night before ... Thanksgiving?

The weather outside is ... (not) frightful.

Wait, what's going on here?

An unexpected treat on a bonus ride home!

The morning commute traffic has been light all week; the evening commute ... miserable. With most people ducking out early today for the long holiday weekend, I decided a round-trip was feasible. Timed just right, the sky would have some light left by the time I got home. It was weirdly warm today—I enjoyed my lunch outdoors, no jacket needed. And for most of the ride home, no jacket needed.

I slipped into the park, and ... surprise! Of course! Displays need testing, bulbs need replacing, before the gates will open for the first visitors (less than 10 days from now).

How lucky to get a sneak preview, without the crowds. A fine reward for wrapping up a workday with 36 miles and a wee bit of climbing (700 feet).

Snowflakes

How I loved our family traditions at Christmastime, growing up. Cherished ornaments, homemade cookies, beloved carols, and of course ... brightly-wrapped presents. A special time. My mom shared stories from her childhood, of decorating the tree on Christmas Eve.

Not in September. Which is when I spotted the first display in a local department store this year. [Really? A month before Halloween?] At this rate, maybe we'll wrap back around the calendar and start pulling out the trappings in December. [If only.]

We're starting to run low on daylight; my opportunities for an evening ride home from work are fading with the sunset. (The full 18 miles, in the dark, is too stressful. I've tried it.)

I had every intention of making the round trip this week; my schedule was free of early meetings on a couple of days. But it wasn't until this morning that I woke up feeling well-rested and pulled it together.

A few quail scurried across the road in the morning, then winged it when they realized they weren't outrunning me.

In the evening, malfunctioning barriers along a little-used railroad line created an unexpected neighborhood traffic jam; I re-routed myself accordingly.

The sun had dropped below the hills, but there was enough daylight to pass through Vasona Park. Where they have, already, begun to set up the displays for the annual Fantasy of Lights. Which doesn't light up until December 2 (almost two months from now).

Merry ... October.

Tour de Moffett Park

You've heard of the Tour de France, but what about the Tour de Moffett Park? [Uh huh, thought so.]

I made sure I biked to work today, having snagged an entry in the (non-competitive) Tour de Moffett Park.

This was the 14th (!) annual tour, which seems organized to lure people from the various companies in our neighborhood onto their bikes for a mid-day ride. Free lunch! Raffle prizes! What more do you need to know?

It was somewhat less than well-organized, with a mere three people set up to sign in some 400 (!) registered riders. As we stepped away with our route sheets, they encouraged people to ride together.

I had chosen the “long” route, of course (11 miles), and changed into my cycling gear for comfort. The rider behind me said “You look like you know what you're doing, I'm gonna follow you!” A second guy tagged along, and I took care to keep them in sight.

Much of the route was familiar from my weekend test ride, so it happened that I did (pretty much) know what I was doing.

I didn't win a prize, but I did score an extra lunch (many riders signed up, fewer actually showed up ... sigh). With ice cream and toppings for dessert, I definitely took in more calories than I burned.

I had plans for that extra lunch: Dinner in the park, on the way home!

I found a picnic table near the lake, and soon discovered the downside. The beggar squirrel I could fend off; the yellowjackets were intimidating. I dispatched two of them, and the rest buzzed off to find a friendlier food source.

For the day, some 48 miles and 1,020 feet of climbing. I threw in a gratuitous hillclimb on the way home ... which might have offset one or two spoons of ice cream (with chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles).

All That Jazz

Today was my day to test a cycling route to my new office. I'd studied maps and thought about traffic patterns.

Most of the route would be the same (pleasant). The last few miles ... not so much.

For this segment, evidently I had chosen well—I was surprised to find myself turning onto Sunnyvale's “Bike Route 600.” [There are a few such signs posted around town, with mysterious route numbers; I have found no information online about these.]

I continued down a quiet residential street, knowing I'd have to make an uncontrolled left turn at the end. I could see more traffic on that throroughfare than I expected; two cars sat, waiting to make the same left turn I wanted. This could be challenging ...

Could be. Wasn't. Cars were backed up by a red light on the cross street; here, I had the advantage. The cars couldn't turn left, because there was no room for them. Bicycle? No problem! I eased right on through to the bike lane.

A pair of bike/ped bridges carried me above 14 lanes of freeways: eight lanes of 101, six lanes of 237. (Both jammed with traffic.) The second bridge deposited me conveniently near the company café that is the highlight of my new commute.

Best croissants I've had outside of Europe. The best.

The last mile entails crossing through one of the messiest intersections I have ever seen. In the morning, it's doable. In the evening ... it's terrifying. Drivers weave aggressively as they jockey for position in the correct lane for the desired freeway in the desired direction. It would be safest to load my bike and ride the shuttle home.

Light rail, for the win! Direct from my building's parking lot, to the platform, without using any road at all. Roll the bike aboard, disembark a couple of stops later—one block from a road that was part of my former commute route!

It might seem counter-intuitive to head southwest when my destination is southeast, but this solution saves time (and a little distance). Crucially, it spares me from navigating through that traffic engineering nightmare.

On a whim I routed through town, deciding to check out the mid-week summer evening concert. The town plaza was packed with jazz fans, and ... I confirmed that I was not one of them. I listened to a few minutes of Paula West covering Bob Dylan's Like a Rolling Stone. It didn't work, for me. Some notes went up, some notes went down, some notes went up, some notes went down. There was no depth, no emotion, no soul.

Not a fan.

My new commute, well ... it's okay. About 36 miles today, with 1,080 feet of climbing.