Southbound in the morning –
North in the evening –
A Brompton kind of day
As a relatively new member of the Brompton cult community, I still get excited when I pass another on the road, especially if there is acknowledgement or conversation. Yesterday there were both.
On the bike path downtown, I caught up to a woman in front of me. We talked about color envy (mine, for her red Brompton), saddle envy (hers, for my Brooks) and our mutual appreciation for cycling in skirts.
When I turned off the path to Canal St., I drew up behind a man with a handsome black M3L. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “We have to greet each other; it’s a Brompton law.” He laughed, and we agreed it’s the perfect city commuter bike.
Later, I saw a yellow B folded and stashed at the outdoor café near my office, and a helmeted man lunching nearby. I caught his eye and said, “Mine is upstairs under my desk.” When it became apparent he spoke no English, I pointed to his bike. “Ah, BROMPTON!” said his dining companion with a smile.
And on the way home, a rider on a red one passed me and called “Brompton!” I replied in kind.
Small pleasures…
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Remembrance of Rides Past
It’s National Bike to Work day, and I took the subway. The promise of heavy rain, and a dinner commitment in Brooklyn requiring semi-fancy duds, made me leave Maggie at home. (I love riding in spring/summer rain, but the drowned rat look wouldn’t play well this evening.)
To assuage my disappointment, I’m looking through photos taken last year. It seems I never get tired of watching the sky.
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A few random photos…
…to distract from the lack of more energetic cycling content.
I loved the look of these bars against the sky and buildings.
Spring is in full swing at our farmers’ markets. Asparagus! I grilled some fat spears. Even Mr. Meat ‘n’ Taters was moved to eat a few.
Rhubarb! Before the season ends, I have to make Melissa Clark’s crumb cake. For now, I’ll boil it briefly, strain and sweeten lightly – the resulting pink syrup is delicious in a glass of sparkling water.
This is not the best supermarket in my neighborhood, but it’s the only one that lets me wheel Maggie in and park her next to the shopping carts.
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We did it! (5 Boro edition)
Maggie and I had a terrific time at the 5 Boro Bike Tour yesterday. After all my worrying preparation, I woke up feeling eager and energetic. The feeling lasted throughout the day.
We waited for the downtown train at 72nd St., nodding at other cyclists doing the same. (The helmet covers were distinctive.)
I arrived early and waited with thousands of other red riders for our 8:30 am start.
I struck up a conversation with a nice couple from Virginia who were doing their fourth 5 Boro, and a guy from NJ who, like me, was doing his first. Maggie was admired, and some mutual photo-snapping occurred.
Dominic Chianese sang the national anthem (slightly off-key but with feeling) and we were off. Despite the crush of people at the start, the pack opened up immediately and we raced up 6th Avenue. Before I knew it, we were through Central Park and Harlem, crossing our first bridge into the Bronx. Then back to Manhattan, down the FDR Drive and over the Queensboro Bridge to Astoria, where we stopped for a short break and a snack. (Bananas were on offer. The rest of the tour was littered with squashed peels, a bad joke in the making.)
From Queens to Brooklyn, and along the waterfront.
Next, a looooong stretch of the BQE, and finally the climb up the Verrazano Bridge. I made it about halfway, buffeted by strong winds, before dismounting. It was the only part of the tour that proved too much for me (and/or for Maggie’s three speeds). I had lots of company for the walk!
The descent into Staten Island was pure pleasure. We finished in just over 4 hours.
Victory selfie!
As I was heading for the ferry home, I heard my name and turned around to find a good friend. I had seen him Friday evening as I was leaving work; he marveled at Maggie and we talked bikes for a bit, but he never mentioned that he was doing the 5 Boro too. One of his companions captured the moment.
Maggie and I relaxed on the ferry back to Manhattan. We both worked hard, and I’m proud of us.
Helmets off to the organizers of this huge event – they did a great job. I spotted a few spills and blowouts, but most everyone looked like they were having a fine time. A few riders sang out “Brompton!” as they passed me, and twice I rode briefly next to another B owner.
Some notes on how I prepared:
- For two weeks before, I got to bed early, ate well, drank gallons of water and showed up regularly at exercise class.
- The morning of, I had a filling breakfast (whole wheat pita, melted cheese, a fistful of arugula, coffee) and a lot of water.
- Maggie’s tires were pumped to 100 psi, which made a big difference. There were potholes, manhole covers and bridge seams galore, but none of them bothered me.
- All my clothing choices turned out well: Club Ride capris with padded briefs underneath, short-sleeved jersey, light polyester rain shell, Merrell sneakers with SmartWool socks, cycling gloves. Tifosi Dolomite photochromic sunglasses were perfect for a windy, partly cloudy day.
- The Carradice saddlebag and a small Green Guru handlebar bag were more than adequate. If not for the extra bottle of water, I would have been fine with the Carradice alone.
- Bag restrictions forced me to leave my beloved Ortlieb Mini O at home, but it was with me in spirit. I felt I had to have polished toes for the 5 Boro even though no one was going to see them!
What I carried:
- Spare tube and patch kit
- Rear tire removal directions
- Water
- Snack (not needed)
- Chapstick
- Aleve (not needed)
- Kleenex
- Phone
- Money
- Metro card
- Credit card
- ID
- Tour credentials
- House key
Would I do anything differently? Fret less. All my anxieties (what if I fall? crash into someone? have a flat? run out of steam?) were for naught. The best part of the day was the way I felt: strong, in control, thoroughly enjoying myself despite occasionally numb hands and a few knee twinges. Maggie and I have a new understanding of each other’s capabilities as well.
I’d like to do more long rides. And I’m already looking forward to next year’s 5 Boro.
Posted in 5 Boro Bike Tour
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We interrupt this program…
…to share a tale that’s not about cycling. The threat of torrential rain kept Maggie home yesterday and I took the subway to work.
At around 34th St., a young woman in yellow rain boots and a newsboy cap called for everyone’s attention. I started digging in my bag for a dollar until she added, “I’m not looking for donations.”
She’s an artist who grew up in LA and moved to Manhattan a year ago. “I’ve noticed that New Yorkers never engage on the subway, and that’s sad. I’d like you to share with me something that you’re grateful for. If you do, I’ll give you a little piece of art.” Silence. “Anybody? I don’t think I’m scary…” I smiled and told her, “No, you’re from California.” She laughed. We just don’t talk to strangers on the train, I said. “But you should!” “Okay, I’ll play. I’m grateful for my husband and our fur children.” She asked about the furkids and then handed me this 1” square canvas. After that, a few other people spoke up too.
It was sweet, and I’m still smiling.
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The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down
It’s a helluva town, and I biked the length of my borough this morning – up to the George Washington Bridge, down to Battery Park City, then home, about 25 miles total, in three hours. It’s the longest ride Maggie and I have taken together. Yay us!
It was a good opportunity to test-drive my garb for the 5 Boro next Sunday. I’m very pleased with the capris I ordered: the material is light and comfortable, they hit just below the knee, and (once I cinched the fit buttons at the waist) they don’t creep or slip. They’re meant to be worn with or without a lightly padded brief. I tried with today, and although I had my doubts about the brief – it seemed like too many moving parts to mesh with my moving parts – everything stayed where it should have.
The day is cool (55º) and partly cloudy so I layered up – thin long-sleeved wicking top, short-sleeved poly/merino jersey, lightly fleece-lined zippered hoodie. Depending on the weather next week, the hoodie may be replaced by a Gore-Tex shell – not as warm, but easier to shed and stash.
The Monkii clip and bottle cage are working well, especially now that I know to move the brake cables away from the clip before unfolding. Fortunately, I figured this out before the cables were damaged.
My old reliable Merrell sneakers are fine. SmartWool micro socks make them even better.
Other things I learned about longish rides:
- I can do them!
- Eat more than a cup of yogurt for breakfast.
- Drink before I get thirsty, and more than I think I need.
- Change hand positions often to avoid numbness. (Much less of a problem than it was.)
- Smile as I bike around ill-behaved people. Somehow it makes them less annoying.
- Relax and have fun.
A few photos snapped along the way…
The 91st Street Garden, Riverside Park
ducks and cherry blossoms
The Little Red Lighthouse under the GW Bridge
Robert F. Wagner Jr. Park, Battery Place
Lady Liberty, from RFW Jr. Park
Battery Park City
in front of the World Financial Center
Posted in 5 Boro Bike Tour, my town
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Out and about on Saturday morning
It’s definitely spring in NYC! Still a bit chilly, but the sun is shining (for now) and green things are growing. I love the nests of tulips along the bike path.
And in Abingdon Square, site of a sweet little farmers’ market and one of the city’s oldest parks.
The corner of Bleecker and 8th Ave., as seen from the square.
The West Village is full of visual goodies for a cyclist. Riding has really enriched my mental map of the city.
I had to stop in the flower district so I continued up 8th Ave., running into a street fair.
These used to be a summer thing; now they start in April and go well into the fall, sprawling all over town. Fairs mess up traffic patterns and parade the same shoddy commercial junk and lousy food, to no one’s great benefit, apparently. Down with them, I say.
Spotted on W. 28th St., from a storage company known for its ad zingers. This one’s my favorite.
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The future’s so bright, I gotta wear [polarized, photochromic] shades
I am married to the Consumer King, Upscale Division. He would be happy to advise you on any important purchase, and will likely upsell you and make you glad that he did. (If the man worked on commission, we could both retire.)
So when he told me about a pair of sunglasses that are supposed to be perfect for cycling, according to Men’s Journal, I figured the price tag would be painful. No! Under $100. I am now the proud owner of these Tifosi Dolomite 2.0 beauties.
Based on this sunny morning’s commute, they are indeed perfect for cycling: wraparound frame, vented lenses, comfortable (adjustable) temple and nose pieces, polarized (non-negotiable, for me) and photochromic. What’s not to love?
As I was walking through the Union Square farmers’ market, a man called out, “How do you like the Brompton?” I zoomed over for a chat and an introduction to Maggie’s features. He lives in Cambridge, where he is part of a city council initiative to encourage more cycling as an alternative to cars. He’s especially keen on folders, not only for mobility but also for portability – they move easily into elevators and under office desks, requiring no special accommodations to fit an urban environment.
He didn’t ask about my cool new shades, but I really enjoyed showing off my Brompton.
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Courage
Fear is such a personal thing. I have no quarrel with rodents, bats or spiders, but show me a giant waterbug and I’m toast. Speaking in public? No problem. Addressing a delicate issue with a close friend? My knees turn to jelly.
I’ve been struggling with a minor, but potent, bugaboo: the ramp leading into Riverside Park from 74th St. A bit steep, it’s spanned by two huge utility plates that were sloppily sealed with asphalt and turn slippery when wet. I’ve fallen here three times: once when Maggie’s front tire struck a rock; the second during a light rain; the third because I was so nervous about falling that I tensed up and lost control. None of the falls did more than bruise me badly and knock the wind out of me, but I decided the scary ramp was my enemy and had to be avoided.
For a short while, I rode down Riverside Drive to another ramp on which cycling is forbidden, so walking down involved no shame. One day this entrance was closed for construction, and I had to detour onto a busy avenue. I was hugging the right side of the road when a cab zoomed past me, clipping me so hard its mirror broke off. Over I went, but (again) I was able to get up and walk away. I’m getting quite good at falling! But I’d rather get good at NOT falling.
My next ramp-avoidance strategy: Instead of shuffling down it feeling old and timid, I picked up Maggie and sprinted down a nearby flight of stairs. A little extra upper body workout is good! But the damned ramp still bugged me, because I was giving in to fear.
I’m more confident in the saddle lately, thanks to some minor adjustments, and this morning I gritted my teeth and went down the ramp. I didn’t fall. I didn’t clutch. All went well.
This post is my self-administered pat on the back for a show of courage. A small one, but it made a difference to me.
Unfolded NYC 