To the Junction

The first time I biked out here, I was not convinced I would do it again. The Junction (where Mines Road meets San Antonio Valley Road at Del Puerto Canyon Road) is a long way from anywhere. Twenty-five miles from Livermore. Twenty-five miles from Patterson. Thirty-eight miles from San Jose (up and over Mt. Hamilton).

This time of year, the stream bed is dry and the hillsides are golden. The road curves and rolls through the canyon; miles and miles of solitude.

Past three horses inexplicably packed side-by-side in a field, the outer two flanking the one in the middle, shoulder-to-haunch. I would have stopped for a photo, but figured that would only spook them into moving. Like the young bull resting in the shade next to the road, who stood up and pointed his hind quarters at me, all the while eying me with suspicion.

There are a few roadside call boxes; don't even think about cell phone coverage out here. I recently learned that the huge numbers on the road surface (mile markers) are painted so the helicopter crew will know where to find you. My ride buddy and I kept each other (mostly) in sight.

I rounded a bend to find a deer staring me down, some 50 feet ahead in my lane. A red Corvette had been holding back for a safe place to pass me; the driver was rewarded for his good judgment when that deer scampered away.

Not too hot, not too windy: a just-about-perfect day to enjoy 58 miles with a mere 3,615 feet of climbing. I will do this again.

The Oberbürgermeister of Tunitas

It must be the flower. Evidently the little yellow splash of whimsy on my saddlebag is misleading.

“Are you okay?” asked one guy who passed me on Tunitas Creek. “Yes, I'm just slow,” I replied. If I had been stopped at the side of the road, that question would be most welcome. But I was moving. Uphill. Albeit slowly.

Then there was the Enforcer, Der Oberbürgermeister von Tunitas. It was his self-appointed duty to tell me where to ride on the road (viz., farther to the right). He had been hit by cars twice on this road, he shouted. [Twice? And I should take advice from you?]

If a cyclist rides through the forest and no one passes her ...

Seriously, dude, I am not an idiot. I stay on the right side of the (imaginary) center line. On a quiet backroad like this, I am not going to teeter on the edge of the pavement or pick my way through the debris fields left by mini-rockslides. If there is a car approaching, I want the driver to see me and slow down before passing. Hang too far to the right, and you invite cars to squeeze past, at full speed, when they shouldn't. I readily share the lane when it is safe to do so. And if I hear someone driving aggressively, I will stop and step off the road entirely.

The forecast called for an inland heat wave; I gambled that a ride over the hill toward the coast would be cool. Descending Tunitas was beyond cool—it was downright chilly. The distance to the Bike Hut seemed longer than I remembered.

I was reprimanded on Tunitas by Der Oberbürgermeister not once, but twice: he started his descent while I was still on the climb. Good thing he wasn't out this morning, mixing it up with clumps of cyclists (all over the road) from the Sequoia Century's workers' ride. He would have been positively apoplectic.

My estimate for the elevation gain was spot on: Thirty-three miles, with 4,205 feet of climbing. Next ride, the flower stays. But instead of a club jersey, I think I will wear this one.

Shade, or Grade?

The Plan: One friend would meet me at my place (arriving by bicycle, of course), and together we would bike to meet the rest of the group. Had I not incited three friends to turn out for today's ride, I would have stayed home—I was decidedly under the weather. I could ride to the starting point and back home. Probably. Maybe farther.

Even with a generous head start, the hardbodies caught us before the first big climb. The day would get hotter and I was already drenched with sweat. I was fully off the back by the time I reached the Almaden Reservoir, which was startlingly blue in the morning light.

I paced myself slowly up Hicks Road, my heart pumping at a moderate rate. Choices, choices: Take the shallower line [in the blazing sun] around a steep bend, or suffer the grade in the shade? This is a tough climb to the summit in either direction; heat doesn't help. I talked myself through every uptick: It's short. It levels off. It's not as steep as Bear Gulch. I'm almost there. I made it without stopping!

And I know when to fold. Much as I wanted head up Mt. Umunhum, I would not push my luck today. Another cyclist joined me for the ride back to town; when we crested the final hill, we smiled and congratulated ourselves on making the right choice. Then, the ultra-hardbodies caught us. [Yes, we did linger to chat. But, still ...]

Twenty-eight miles with some 2,550 feet of climbing. As the rest of the group straggled in to lunch, they were surprised to find me already there. “She led the whole way,” the ultra-hardbodies deadpanned. [In my dreams.]

Drippity Drop

The color of the sky was Ominous Gray. I considered my options over breakfast. Rain is possible in the Bay Area in May, but the showers on the radar map were well to the north. Any rainfall would likely be brief, and light; if not, I could easily find shelter and wait for the storm to pass. Thinking back to being soaked in a downpour last fall, why would I hesitate over mere clouds this morning?

With a late start for a short ride, I opted to bike there. After we completed the second climb, our leader suggested we chase a few more hills. My fellow cyclists hemmed and hawed; today being a holiday, they had slotted this little ride ahead of their picnics and barbecues. After I cast my lot with the leader, most of the group came around. A departing rider assured us the hills ahead were less steep than the hills behind.

He was almost right. (I nearly stalled out on the last one.)

From the street, this structure looked more like some mod hotel, but we were definitely in a residential zone.

For the day, a healthy 48 miles with some 2,550 feet of climbing. On the way home, I got a little wet. Hardly worth mentioning. Really.

Biking to Sunshine

Herewith, a tour of Bay Area microclimates. First, we rolled through the dry golden hills of the peninsula on a breezy day.

Up and over the ridge, we skirted along the edge of the El Corte de Madera Creek Open Space Preserve. Wet pavement, blustery winds, and green fields were gifts from the marine layer above us.

The public segment of Bear Gulch West ends in a redwood grove. It is essential to shift into your lowest gear before you stop; the first mile of your return trip is a tad steep (12.3% grade, on average).

When I added a flower to my seat bag on Bling Your Bike at Work Day, I did not imagine how popular it would be. Even on Old La Honda Road, where cyclists often take themselves far too seriously, I caught some compliments and smiles.

The winds were fierce at a particular elevation on both sides of the ridge. I enjoyed a lovely car-free descent of Kings Mountain, with a little extra caution for unpredictable gusts.

By the time I reached the historic Woodside Store, some 31 miles into the ride, the water in my bottles was refreshingly chilled.

42 miles, 4360 feet of climbing—and don't it feel good!

Grade Inflation

Over the past 10 years, I have sampled many organized rides. For some, once was enough. But year after year, I eagerly register for Strawberry Fields Forever. The first time I signed up, it rained and I skipped the event altogether. One year, it was so blistering hot I packed my bandana with ice and wore it around my neck. Another year, the cold fog drizzled and made us miserable for the first few miles.

Today, the weather was perfect. Just warm enough for the fragrance of ripe strawberries to waft across the fields.

Before meandering through the farmland of Monterey and Santa Cruz counties, our first rest stop is always hosted at Calfee Design. The airstrip must be seeing more use these days; there were new gates and signs (look both ways, indeed). When was the last time you bicycled across an active runway?

The water in the Pajaro River was beautifully clear, despite the colorful patches of growth on its surface.

The event organizers must be getting soft on us; this year, they dropped the challenging Tustin grade from the traditional route. The climb to lunch at Royal Oaks Park, however, is unavoidable. I dropped into my lowest gear and motored along, passing a few people who opted to walk. When a woman riding nearby asked me about the climb, and the rest of the route, I could tell her this was the toughest part. Based on my perceived difficulty, I told her I thought the grade was 9%-10%. At lunch, another woman insisted it was 17%. [No way.] People take great pride in the instantaneous readings of their cycling computers; unfortunately, such readings are unreliable.

You can count on seeing some unusual sights at this event. Women decked out in pink feather boas or tutus, as if they had cycled in from the Cinderella ride. One guy riding with a full-sized floor pump protruding horizontally from his backpack. As this unicyclist approached a paddock, I watched a horse saunter over to the fence for a closer look; after he passed, the horse turned tail and walked away—not the least bit interested in the recumbent.

After my hiatus from cycling in March and April, I was concerned about how I would fare on this ride; that motivated me to step up my training. A tad over 61 miles, with some 2,935 feet of climbing—at an average speed of 12.3 mph (whew, same as last year).

Oh, and that climb to lunch? Surprisingly, two-tenths of a mile averaging 13%. [It didn't feel that bad.]

BIK LAN

Reacting to several tragic accidents on California State Highway 9 between the towns of Saratoga and Los Gatos, funds were found for critical safety improvements. Bike lanes have been in place for a couple of years; more recently, a few sidewalk segments have been introduced.

While I am happy that accommodations are being made for pedestrians, these should not come at the expense of cyclist safety. The bike lane is slowly disappearing: swallowed by the hillside in one section, obliterated by the new sidewalk in others.

More frightening than the narrowed bike lane is the new curb that separates the sidewalk from the bike lane: both are formed of black asphalt. The construction signs and cones have been gone for some time; can it be possible that they have no intention of painting the curb, or at least the sloped, leading edge of the curb at intersections? This is an accident waiting to happen. It seems just a matter of time before a cyclist runs into the curb and crashes—unable to see the curb at night, or having been intimidated to the far right of the narrow bike lane by fast-moving traffic.

Having explored the relevant section of the California Highway Design Manual, it seems clear to me that this (Class II) Bike Lane no longer complies with the standards.

The speed limit on this section of the highway is 40 mph or less; Section 301.2 states that the minimum width of the bike lane should be four feet. The width can be reduced to three feet if there is an adjacent concrete curb and gutter. There is certainly no gutter (which would effectively widen the available lane for bikes), so the bike lane should still be four feet wide. [It is not.]

The speed limit is 45 mph on the section of road where the hillside is overtaking the bike lane; per Section 301.2, the minimum width of the bike lane there should be six feet (!). [I assure you that you will not need a measuring tape to see that it is not.]

Of course, I am not a highway design engineer, so what do I know?

The Music Man

Some of my fellow cyclists find their rides more enjoyable with a soundtrack, and might pedal with earphones and an MP3 source. [One earphone is legal; two are not.] I prefer the natural sounds around me, which included some lovely mockingbird solos today. Or I can tap into the vast trove of songs in my memory bank.

On most of my recent commute rides, the refrain of one song was (inexplicably) stuck on replay in my head. I do not own a copy, and I could not name the artist. Something about rain in Africa, and things we never had. I don't even like the song. Eventually, I managed to displace it.

I headed for a short club ride this morning, certain that we would have a nice little group. Little, indeed—just two of us, plus our leader. The other rider's bike was set up with a tablet computer mounted on his handlebars and a small loudspeaker fitted in one of his water bottle cages. We enjoyed some Vivaldi before an abrupt switch to 80's pop (Eye of the Tiger).

Unlike the songs in my head, which can loop indefinitely, a real song plays for a few minutes. A fast beat can encourage you to ride with a faster cadence, but I actually found the music disheartening: as each song ended, I was reminded that I had not traveled very far in the interim.

I climbed the hills without stopping. [I wanted to stop. I kept going.] A little over 17 miles, with 1440 feet of climbing, before the day heated up.

As we parted ways at the end of the ride, guess which song was blaring from the other bike?

Africa. [By Toto.]

It's Bike to Work Day!

I started the morning with some safety basics: give each other space, call out when stopping, and don't take chances with traffic signals. If some of us don't make it across an intersection, I will stop and wait. I promised not to lose anyone, but handed out route sheets just in case. One rider was wearing her helmet backward. [No wonder it felt weird!]

At the halfway point, there was no shortage of enthusiasm. [Or was it a coffeecake high?]

When you can bike to work on any ordinary day, what could be extraordinary about some official Bike to Work Day?

Let me count the ways.

Fourteen smiling co-workers ready for me to lead them to the office at 7:00 a.m. (20 miles).

Ten riders who had never biked to the office before today. (A few rented bikes for the occasion!)

Thirteen-plus riders added en route.

Twenty-seven (or more) smiling co-workers delivered safely to the office.

One piece of Hobee's coffee cake (thank you, Cupertino Energizer Station).

One chocolate-dipped doughnut (courtesy of my co-leader's bike-mounted Energizer Station).

One flat tire (on the rear wheel of my very capable co-leader's bike). [We left him, and the doughnuts, behind. He caught up.]

One huge festival of cycling at our workplace. Massages, foam rollers, and mats for stretching. Bicycle-powered blenders (smoothies). Food. Schwag. Bike mechanics for minor repairs. Booths to recruit riders for local charity rides (including, of course, Best Buddies).

Two bicycle-powered carnival rides.



Three smiling co-workers ready at 5:00 p.m. for me to lead them back home.

Forty-two miles, 855 feet of climbing, and more than 1100 kcal burned.

My energized riders make Bike to Work Day extraordinary for me.

Monday Monday

Monday morning: Do people forget how to drive after taking a weekend off? Like the guy on my left, who accelerated only to brake hard (in surrender) as he pulled even with me. By gosh by golly, a bicycle can descend a hill at the speed limit and the right place to change lanes is behind it. [Just like a car.]

The rest of my ride to work was less eventful. I like it that way.

A lucky green signal at a major intersection afforded me the chance to route through a local park. I paused to smile at two pairs of ducks and their broods. The pesky Canada geese were nowhere in sight, but they are still resident.

I dawdled on the way home. It was the headwind, I tell you. Another routing variation took me over a freeway on a neglected bike/pedestrian bridge, littered with fallen leaves, trash, and blotted-out graffiti. It would make sense to use this bridge regularly, but I prefer to avoid it. If it were my neighborhood, I would take a broom to it.

Completing four consecutive round-trip commutes (interrupted by a weekend), I was curious about my average speed (mph).

	Morning	Evening
Day 1	13.1	11.5
Day 2	13.9	12.8
Day 3	12.8	10.8
Day 4	13.0	10.5

I am pretty consistent in the morning; the air is still and, after the initial climbs, my route is principally downhill. Which means, of course, that the return route is ... uphill. Not to mention, into the wind.

Trading my steel bike, with its rack and pack, for my unladen carbon frame on Day 2 made quite a difference—especially in the uphill direction.

Weight matters. Even for slowpokes, like me.

Sky View

Even if this were not my fourth consecutive day on the bike, I doubt that I could have powered my way up the steep pitches of Skyview Terrace. Most of the riders in our small group had not visited this hill before. Before we made the first turn, we stopped to confer with the ride leader: “Are you sure this is the right way around the loop?”

Then we plummeted toward the nadir. The road dropped 440 feet in 6/10th of a mile.

Good thing we were taking the “easier” way. [Egads!]

Momentum carried me up the first pitch. Not bad, I thought ... until the next pitch loomed above me. Time to use my feet in a different way. (I walked.) Two-tenths of a mile at an average gradient of 14.5%. The pace of the riders ahead of me was barely faster. The terrain relented to about 6% before kicking back up; I dismounted again after a taste of 14.2% and walked another 2/10 of a mile. Steep is not my forté. There was margin in my heart rate, but the muscles in my legs were done, done, done.

This was a social ride, and one of our riders regaled us with stories of her role in a legendary Death Ride stunt. The Rolling Bones, a large group of Hewlett Packard employees, included a guy who would pilot a tandem with a full-sized skeleton for a stoker. When the engineers rigged Ms. Bones with a walkie-talkie, she provided the voice. Trailing at a respectful distance, she would wait for some serious rider to pull alongside the tandem. “Mmm, nice legs!” she'd coo. Ms. Bones retired in 2004, after joining the ranks of the five-pass finishers.

And yes, I am slower than a team of guys hauling a skeleton on a heavy tandem—I pedaled for 12 hours, 55 minutes to finish the ride in 2009.

For the week, about 202 miles with 8,650 feet of climbing. Riding my way back into shape.

See the Other Side

A common question from non-cyclists at the office is “What route do you take?” One colleague could only imagine taking the freeway [which, as a rule, is forbidden—not to mention, dangerous].

If they insist on more detail than “lots of quiet streets,” their attention will stray before I am halfway through the route: I make 27 turns on the way to work. Curiously, the most direct route to the office can be an 18.9 mile drive on the freeway, or an 18.9 mile bike ride on surface streets and a creekside trail.

How do you find a bike route that will get you to work? A reasonable start is to take advantage of the “bicycle” option on Google Maps.

How do you find the best bike route? Explore! [On your bike.] Over time, I have optimized my route along several dimensions: More direct. Less travel on busy roadways. Fewer stop signs and traffic signals. More shade.

Late on this hot afternoon, the freeway sound wall cast a cool shadow. Smell the flowers.

Bling Your Bike at Work Day

Our Bike to Work Day is a week away, and my workplace gets an early start on the festivities. Today there would be a free “Learn how to fix your own bike” clinic at work, plus a station with a colorful array of doodads and raw materials for decorating your bike.

At a previous company, an enthusiastic colleague had collected a handful of garage-sale castoffs to transport us from building to building; my sentimental favorite had a frame covered with something that resembled blue Astroturf. [But I digress.]

I thought I would take advantage of the clinic to learn how to put a new chain on my road bike. Which meant I needed to ride that bike to work. [Or load it on the shuttle. But why would I do that?] Which meant that I needed to do a little extra planning, to avoid carrying a change of clothes in a sweaty backpack.

One mile from home, I discovered that I could not shift my front dérailleur. The chain was on the big ring and it would not budge. There were hills ahead.

Should I turn back and switch bikes? I would be late for my first meeting, and I would not learn how to replace my chain.

Should I turn back and head for the shuttle stop? I would miss out on a nice morning bike ride.

Should I tough it out?

I climbed the hills. I shared a quiet residential street with a coyote. Around mile 7.8, the dérailleur spontaneously shifted down to the middle ring. Biking home entails more climbing—no bus for me today!

At the clinic, they set me up with a visiting “expert.” When he told me I didn't need a new chain because I am lightweight, I sensed this exercise would not go well. Then he mounted my bike on the stand with the drivetrain facing the support post.

Upon learning that we could not shift the front dérailleur, he proclaimed the superiority of friction shifters [pointing to his bike]. Not only did he give up on brifters, he ditched his carbon fiber frame as well. [Behold, the Retro-Grouch!]

His next observation was that my wheels need more spokes. I was ready. “I am lightweight. I don't need a lot of spokes.”

Finally, we tackled the task at hand. He looped the new chain onto the bike and prepared to connect the ends. “Shouldn't we make sure it's the right length?” I asked. [That much, I know.]

A colleague wandered over and finished my lesson in bicycle chain replacement. The Retro-Grouch made himself scarce.

At the end of the day, I made it home before the bike shop closed. My front dérailleur needed a new cable—it was bent, causing too much resistance inside the guide. They admired the yellow flower adorning my seat bag. Did you say “Bling Your Bike at Work Day?” Yes, I did.

Green Means Go

The Anything Goes Commute Challenge may be finished, but this bicycle commuter rolls on. I am determined to bike to work more regularly: once per week, at least.

I have followed a heated debate on a cycling forum recently, in which runners and cyclists square off about whether it is appropriate for runners to use a bicycle lane. I learned that the California vehicle code states:

No pedestrian shall proceed along a bicycle path or lane where there is an adjacent adequate pedestrian facility.

Pedestrians, by the way, are elsewhere defined to include people on skates, skateboards, scooters, wheelchairs ... specifically, anyone not riding a bicycle.

This morning I had ample room to swing out into the traffic lane to avoid a woman walking toward me in the bicycle lane ... right next to a perfectly good sidewalk.

A few miles down the road, as I prepared to make a right turn in a quiet residential neighborhood, I was so focused on a large construction vehicle approaching from the left that I was startled to find a guy jogging around the corner toward me, next to the curb. There was no bicycle lane, but there was a perfectly good sidewalk.

Not 10 feet later, a woman stopped her SUV in the middle of the roadway. A mountain biker on a dirt trail was waiting patiently to cross the road; the driver had the right of way and should not have yielded. This is how accidents happen.

There was something amazing about my commute this morning, and it had nothing to do with sloppy drivers or pedestrians. [Those are routine hazards.]

My entire 18.6-mile trip was interrupted by exactly one red traffic signal. [This will likely never happen again.]

By looking ahead, I can moderate my speed to roll up to an intersection just as the light turns green, or sprint to avoid losing a green. In some places, I can choose to shift my left turn strategically, turning onto a side street to avoid waiting for the upcoming light to cycle through to next green arrow. This morning, with lucky timing and these techniques, the lights were as green as the park I enjoyed on my way back home.

Anything Goes Commute Challenge: Score It

The time has come to wrap up the Anything Goes Commute Challenge, score it, and reflect on the results.

	Solo Car	Carpool	Bike + Bus	Solo Bike	Group Bike
Overall Time (minutes)	37:46	27:43	45:31	98:16	92:34
Exercise Time	0	0	8:21	90:37	87:51
Reading/ Relaxing Time	0	0	36:20	0	0
Cost	$11.37	$10.66	$0.07	$0.93	$1.00
Bliss Factor	0	-1	8	6	7
Funds for Charity	0	0	1x	2x	2x
Time Wasted	37:46	27:43	0:50	7:49	4:43
Positives	2	1	3	5	5

Not surprisingly, there is no “one best way” to get to work.

The fastest way? Carpool. The downside: this is also the most stressful (for the driver). One alternative that I did not fit into the Challenge is to be a carpool passenger: fast and low stress. Cost is a wash, because I reciprocate.

The most freedom? Solo drive. This is costly (time and money), but sometimes necessary to fit a schedule or allow extra-curricular activities.

The best for exercise? Bike it, preferably with a group that pushes the pace. The cost should be a bit higher than the Challenge suggests, I think (fuel, aka food), but it would still be insignificant.

The best overall? Bike to the shuttle, ride the bus. Low stress, low cost, least time wasted. An additional benefit is having the bike handy for quick trips at work.

There are options I did not consider, such as mass transit. When the schedules align, I can walk to catch a public bus that will drop me off near the shuttle stop—a good rainy-day option. (While it would be technically possible to rely on mass transit entirely, doing so would be slower than biking to work: 2 hours, 30 minutes plus $10.75 to ride multiple buses, light rail, and Caltrain.)

I could walk to the shuttle stop (1.5 miles), but that would be time-intensive. When the shuttle stop was closer (1 km), this was my preferred approach—rain or shine.

I can drive to the shuttle stop. (It has been known to happen.) The cost is low ($0.85), but it saves little time (competing with commute traffic, school traffic, and the vagaries of six traffic signals along the way).

Finally, I would be remiss to exclude one occasional option: the “Solo Scenic Drive.” It takes about 90 minutes, 15-20 of which are wasted in traffic. Standard mileage reimbursement rates don't apply ... but the Bliss factor is 11.

Panoche Pictorial

Our club heads for the Panoche Valley twice a year, spring and fall.
I was disappointed to miss the last outing.

After struggling last weekend, I thought I might not be ready for such a long ride. It is an out-and-back route; I could always turn around. But I knew that if I drove down there, I would want to finish.

I hatched a plan, and the plan was this: bike to (and from) work this week. Not just once, but twice. If I could pull off two 40-mile days in one week, maybe, just maybe, I could make it to the Inn and back.

The bookshelf at Starbuck's in Hollister included a volume on C programming [this is not Silicon Valley]. A local was curious about my ride plan, and yet not familiar with Panoche Road. [You need to get out more, I thought.]

The fog touched down to ground level in Hollister; droplets condensed on my car. The fog zone ended abruptly a couple of miles from our starting point in Paicines, taking with it my regrets about leaving a jacket at home. It would be a hot day, and I quickly realized I could leave my vest in the car.

What better way to spend a few hours, than this? Mostly alone on a winding, little-traveled road. I could imagine that I was seeing much of the same landscape that settlers saw when they first traversed this pass on horseback.

I paused after a challenging pitch to admire the scenery; it was so quiet that I could hear my blood pulsing with each rapid heartbeat.

The road surface is in rough condition at its easternmost end. This is a good place to work on supporting yourself with your core muscles; if you keep a tight grip on the handlebars, the bone-rattling vibrations will make your head ache.

The Inn is up for sale; the proprietors are ready for a break.

The solar farm will taint the valley with industrial blight next year. This breaks my heart.

One of our co-leaders joked that we do this ride for the headwind—in both directions. It was a relief from the heat, but ... I had to pedal downhill.

Fifty-five miles of wondrous beauty and peaceful solitude, with a mere 2700 feet of climbing.

Anything Goes Commute Challenge: Group Bike Trip

There are many avid cyclists at my workplace—many commute daily, some over long distances. It has become a tradition for me to lead a group of riders to the office on Bike To Work Day, but that rolls around once a year. What if we biked together once a week?

On most Thursdays, a plan starts to form: who's in, where and when to rendezvous. Riders meet over the first few miles: four guys and me, today. They are stronger and faster and more fit; I rode my heart out to keep up. A sampling of our morning chatter: a fierce-but-friendly competition between two colleagues to establish who can complete more commutes by bicycle this quarter; the recent Boston Marathon (one of our riders had run it, luckily finishing well ahead of the chaos); bridging and nearest neighbors; the n Queens problem. [Yes, these are engineers; this is, after all, Silicon Valley.]

The Stats:

Route: surface streets, bike/pedestrian trail
Distance: 19.9 miles
Elapsed time: 92:34
Average moving speed: 13.7 mph
Exercise time: 87:51
Reading/relaxing time: 0
Bliss factor: 7
Cost per trip: $1.00
Enables: Exercise, camaraderie, Plus3Network and company-sponsored fundraising for charity, two breakfasts.

Yogurt with granola. Shrimp with grits. Slices of melon, and roasted tomatoes. I burned more than 600 calories on the way to work; if I fail to refuel, I will fade before lunchtime.

Here is a common question from solo drivers: What happens when you have an urgent, unexpected need for a car, but you did not drive to work? Today was such a day.

In the event of an emergency, many employers (mine included) will provide a ride home. But this was not my emergency, and home is not where I needed to go.

Mid-day, a colleague reached out for help: Her husband had suddenly fallen ill, she was following the paramedics to the local hospital. She could not leave their dog in the car (for who knows how long); could I meet her and take him? Of course—I did not hesitate to say "yes."

Now what?

Three of my four nearest neighbors had not driven to work; the fourth, with a dog-friendly car, said "Let's go." Dogs are a common sight at work—they are welcome, so long as they are well-behaved. This dog knows the drill; after some reassurances, he settled right in.

Next challenge: This was an open-ended commitment. I had expected to bike home around 5 p.m.

1. I always have a bike headlight with me; it isn't powerful, but it is serviceable. If I had to finish the ride after sunset, I could.
2. The last commuter shuttle home would depart around 8 p.m. I could load the bike onto the shuttle, leaving me with a short ride home in the dark.
3. Later than that, I could bike to the light rail and get most of the way home, finishing with a few miles on the bike in the dark.

Don't worry about me or the dog, I said. We will stay at the office as long as needed. [Till 5:45 p.m., as it turned out.]

Contingency plans are highly recommended.

Anything Goes Commute Challenge: Solo Bike Trip

Biking to work is a commitment. Even though I have the luxury of loading myself and my bicycle onto a shuttle bus at the end of the day, I prefer to cycle home. The round trip translates into some 40 miles and 1,000 feet of hill climbing.

To while away the time, I usually count my fellow cyclists along the way: kids on their way to school, adults on their way to work or just out for a nice ride. Today was unseasonably warm; for the first few miles, I saw surprisingly few cyclists. By the time I rolled up to my building, I had counted 60—that’s higher than I remember for a morning commute (with the exception of Bike to Work Day).

The Stats:

Route: surface streets, bike/pedestrian trail
Distance: 18.6 miles
Elapsed time: 98:16
Average moving speed: 12.4 mph
Exercise time: 90:37
Reading/relaxing time: 0
Bliss factor: 6
Cost per trip: $0.93
Enables: Exercise, errand, Plus3Network and company-sponsored fundraising for charity, two breakfasts.

I needed to pick up some photos today, and when more neurons started firing over breakfast I realized I could do that on the way to work, with barely a detour. With no place to secure the bike in front of the store, I rolled it inside with me.

I have optimized my route over the years to make it safer and more direct. The Bliss factor would be higher if I did not have to contend with a few busy stretches of roadway, and if there were fewer clueless joggers, dog-walkers, and cyclists on the trail.

Once at the office, the first order of business is my second breakfast. Without that, I would bonk later in the morning. The next order of business is to shower and change into street clothes; I keep an extra pair of shoes at the office to minimize what I need to carry on the bike. When I get to my desk, I am energized for the day. More and more research has shown the beneficial influence of exercise on the brain, explaining why I feel more alert (and definitely not tired) after propelling myself to work.

Our company has a generous “self-powered commuting” incentive program. Each time I cycle to work, I earn credits that turn into dollars donated annually by the company to the charity of my choice. Last year, that amounted to more than $200 ... but I can do better.

Note to self: Must bike to work more often.

Bike Lane 0, Hillside 1

Where has all my fitness gone?
Five weeks slacking.
Where has all my fitness gone?
I miss it so.

[Apologies to Pete Seeger.]

I miss the bike lane, too. In theory, it makes my commute to work safer. In practice, it started shrinking as soon as it was created. This morning I mustered the courage to document the problem, so I can report it. The speed limit on this stretch of Highway 9 is 45 mph (which means, of course, that the traffic is moving faster than that). When I am in good shape, I sprint as fast as I can. [Which, in my case, is not all that fast; it's uphill.]

Whenever I bike to work, I see many other cyclists. On the trail, there are joggers and dog-walkers, too. But the person who impressed me most today was an elderly woman, crossing the Heatherstone bike/pedestrian bridge in Sunnyvale at a steady pace. Up the incline, over Highway 85, and down the other side. Pushing her walker.

The usual stats for my round-trip: just under 40 miles and 1,000 feet of climbing. Fitness is important at every age. I will find mine, again.

Frosty

Today, I rode almost exclusively on state highways. If you think that sounds unappealing, consider the meandering scenic byway in the photo at the left. This is California State Highway 35; along its southernmost stretches there is no center line, as the pavement is often no wider than one lane.

Given that 3000 feet of climbing felt okay last weekend, why not aim higher this weekend? When I finally crested the top of Highway 9, I was greeted by a cold wind and two steadfast cycling buddies (who reached the top long before I did). I was immediately grateful that I had chosen to wear my vest.

The last couple of miles along Highway 9 were less painful after a colleague unexpectedly passed me, then matched my pace so we could chat. Of course, many riders had passed me on my slow grind to the top—most were local racers, so I felt a bit less decrepit. I am, however, alarmingly out of shape.

The top of the hill was my first decision point: Turn back, or ride 10 miles along the ridge? I turned left, past the orchards and vineyards and Christmas tree farms. I felt good at the next decision point: Turn back, or head downhill to loop back to town? I preferred the longer route to the loop, which includes a few miles along a busy, rutted dirt trail.

One cycling buddy had stayed with me, and she was a trouper—waiting patiently for me to haul myself up the hills. When we hit the first steep (but short) pitches, we both wondered why we didn't take the easy way down. Cyclists are a common sight on that section of Skyline, which is beautiful and little-traveled. The surprise of the day was seeing many other women up there.

My cycling day ended with some 4,450 feet of climbing over 45 miles, which translated into near-total exhaustion. Must ride more ...

Anything Goes Commute Challenge: Bike + Shuttle

My typical commute involves riding a shuttle bus to the office. Sometimes the bus stop has been within walking distance of home; it is always within biking distance. While I don’t mind walking on a rainy day, I am a fair-weather cyclist. Fortunately (or not), we don’t see a lot of rain in these parts.

For the cycling segment, I started the clock just before I began rolling, and stopped it before I folded my STRiDA to load it on the shuttle. I then re-started the clock when the bus started rolling, and stopped it before I stepped off in front of the office building where I work.

Along the way I marvel at the daily clog of solo drivers on the freeway. I have a clear view of the drivers (illegally) texting, (illegally) holding their phones to their ears or in front of their faces, eating breakfast, and applying eye liner in the number two lane.

Riding the bike is fun, but slightly stressful as I cope with morning traffic and pass lots of parked cars—always on the alert to avoid being “doored.” Riding the shuttle is totally relaxing; I listen to my favorite podcasts (Car Talk, Wait Wait ... Don’t Tell Me!, Science Friday, Fresh Air). I might check my email and get an early start on the day, but I will suffer from motion sickness if I do much reading. At the end of the day, I have been known to doze off on the way home.

The Stats:

Route: surface streets (bike), freeway carpool lane, surface streets (bus)
Distance: 1.4 miles (bike), 17.71 miles (bus), 19.11 (total)
Elapsed time: 9:11 (bike), 36:20 (bus), 45:31 (total)
Average moving speed: 10 mph (bike), 39.4 mph (bus)
Exercise time: 8:21
Reading/relaxing time: 36:20
Bliss factor: 8
Cost per trip: $0.07 (bike), $0.00 (bus), $0.07 (total)
Enables: Exercise, Plus3Network fundraising for charity (bike); entertainment (podcasts on bus).

The very first time I rode the shuttle and arrived at work relaxed, I was ready to hang up my car keys. The chief downside is that I generally decline most after-work social gatherings. One upside is that I am a free ticket to the carpool lane for a solo driver looking for an express ride home: people woo shuttle riders every afternoon via a mailing list.

It is easy to “need” your car every day, to run an errand or get to an appointment. It just takes a little planning to align commitments to fall on a single weekday, or two.

Anything Goes Commute Challenge: Carpool Trip

After work, I will head up to the city for a performance by the world-renowned San Francisco Ballet. Which means I need my car. Technically, I could devise a mass-transit solution that entails less driving, but it would be ridiculously complicated and prohibitively time-consuming.

With back-to-back early meetings, I also need to get to the office before 8:30 a.m. I started the clock in my driveway, then cruised over to the shuttle stop to pick up a carpooler. Most people would actually prefer to board the wifi-equipped shuttle, but I got lucky. A colleague was happy to join me, and we had a nice conversation on the way to work.

Driving in the carpool lane is stressful (see Bliss factor, below). You are traveling at nearly the speed limit in the leftmost lane, constantly scanning the lane of (stopped) traffic to your right: Will that driver suddenly swing out in front of me? How about that one? That one?

I stopped the clock when I parked the car at work and breathed a sigh of relief.

The Stats:

Route: surface streets, freeway carpool lanes
Distance: 18.86 miles
Elapsed time: 27:43
Average moving speed: 40.9 mph
Exercise time: 0
Reading/relaxing time: 0
Bliss factor: -1
Cost per trip: $10.66
Enables: Cultural performance after work.

Later, the trips to and from San Francisco will not be solo drives—a friend joins me for the ballet.

Anything Goes Commute Challenge: Solo Car Trip

A kindred spirit and bicycle commuter par excellence, Ladyfleur, recently wrote a series about her alternative transportation options for getting to the office. She wrapped up with an open challenge to her readers to do the same. I'm in!

Let's start with my least favorite option: driving to the office during rush hour.

I volunteer for a non-profit organization once per week after work, which means I need my car—any of my transportation alternatives are so impractical that I would just stop volunteering.

To avoid the rush hour crawl, I spent an hour at home in early morning video conferences with colleagues in Europe. I started the clock in my driveway, and stopped it when I parked at the office.

The live traffic map looked promising, so I headed for the first freeway; traffic was flowing nicely. From an overpass, I glanced at the traffic on the next freeway ... and bailed out for the local expressway when I saw three lanes of stopped cars stretching into the distance. For a while I was stuck behind a driver who repeatedly and erratically slowed without braking; when I was finally able to pass her, the reason was clear: SHE WAS TEXTING.

The expressway route is less direct than the freeway and has traffic lights—but they’re synchronized. Given that it was now nearly 10:00 a.m., I exited onto one final freeway and suffered through the expected-but-short traffic jam shown above.

The Stats:

Route: surface streets, freeways, expressway
Distance: 20.12 miles
Elapsed time: 37:46
Average moving speed: 32.92 mph
Exercise time: 0
Reading/relaxing time: 0
Bliss factor: 0
Cost per trip: $11.37
Enables: Volunteer activity after work, followed by grocery shopping.

I will use the same quantitative factors to score my commutes (car: $0.565 per mile, bike: $0.05 per mile) as Ladyfleur, but my qualitative factors are somewhat different:

• Reading/relaxing time:
Motion sickness dissuades me from reading, but if my attention is not required I can listen to podcasts or doze off.
• Bliss factor:
A happiness score on a putative scale of 0-10.
• Enables:
The benefits of this transportation choice.

Do I need to explain the Bliss factor for this trip? [There is no joy in a solo drive in traffic.]

Led Astray

Following my five-week hiatus, I knew I would be slow. I loaded shoes, helmet, water bottles, snacks, and the rest of my gear into the car. I chose a local ride on familiar roads, knowing I could easily turn back.

I did not expect to turn back before I reached our starting point, however. As I rounded the ramp onto the freeway, it occurred to me that I did not hear my bike rattling behind me. And there was a reason for that: it was still in the garage. Five weeks of inactivity had obliterated my regular pre-ride routine. Thanks to the ubiquitous California cloverleaf, I immediately circled back and managed to meet up with the rest of the group on time.

The ride took an interesting turn when the group deviated onto Soquel-San Jose Road. Our route for the day included a loop that can be completed in either direction. The route sheet detailed the clockwise loop, but a pair of locals had persuaded the ride leader to change the plan (unbeknownst to me). It seemed prudent to follow the renegades; besides, I much prefer the counter-clockwise version, with its meandering climb through the redwoods.

Of course, I also much prefer the smooth descent on Soquel-San Jose. When the locals pulled aside to wait for the group, I flew past. I surmised that they wanted to ensure that no one would miss the (now undocumented) turn onto Stetson. I know the turn. I also know that my downhill speed will carry me most of the way up its initial steep pitch.

Merrily I rolled along, deep in the shade of the forest. The redwood sorrel is blooming; California Quail skittered into the brush, and a noisy pair of Steller's Jays darted from branch to branch. I stopped at the little white church where we planned to regroup, and waited. And waited. Surely they would catch up to me soon?

One, two, three, four, five ... which rider is missing? Our leader! The same pair of riders who altered the route "didn't see me make the turn." [Which was not visible from their vantage point.] They convinced our leader that I had missed the turn, and she set off to find me. "I hope she isn't going all the way to Soquel," I exclaimed. [Sadly, she did.]

Ironically, she was not looking for me. I would later find a broken-up message on my cell phone, asking me to lead the rest of the group back to the start while she searched for the newbie rider she believed to be lost. I regretted not having the stamina to chase after her.

Twenty eight miles and 3,040 feet of climbing. What a day.