It is difficult to believe that it has been nearly 7 months since my body has sustained any further damage due to what has proven to be, in its initial stages at least, a hazardous commute. Though I would be telling fibs to say the time has been without incident, including the time when I came within an inch of my life thanks to a driver deciding to make a u-turn--for all practical purposes--into me.
It is a happy fact that in the witnessing the changing rhythms of seasons in the passing months--the morning summer camps in the park turning into autumn evening soccer practices, the welcoming cheerful brightness of neighborhood christmas lights breaking into the encroaching winter darkness, and the ever-faithful lady out exercising her three border collies, throughout--the pleasantries of riding my little blue bicyclette has been fresh air and delight.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Friday, July 23, 2010
In which the author is witness to a great tragedy...
The first time it happened, I was happily pedaling to work on a blissful Friday morning thinking how nothing had hardly happened recently that would merit writing a blog about (this was in the "early" days while this was all still in "development"). Having about a month of bicycling on my new less hazardous route and hardly a spill to report, I thought, "What have I to write a blog about? All the adventures to be had, have been had."
I have come to realize this is very dangerous thinking, because that is precisely the moment adventure is imminent.
I crossed the street, happily looking forward to those first red poppies of spring, more springing up by the day. This always ensued a violent argument in my head. Raging between all appearances of the poppies being wild and no one missing a couple poppies to adorn my room and the undiminished childhood memory of motherly admonition, "If everyone picked a flower, there would be none left for everyone else to enjoy." Usually the practicality of--if I picked a flower, I will pick it on the way home--won out. But then biking home, there were no poppies on that side of the road, and between the logistics of having to cross the road twice and my eagerness to be home, all the poppies had been left for everyone else to enjoy, as far as this bicyclist was concerned.
So, I crossed the street with eager expectation, and they were all gone! All the poppies gone--mowed down in their glory!
Crestfallen, shocked, stunned, appalled at the number of vases all of those poppies would have filled. How could they be gone?! The waste! The great tragedy of it all! Why was I not given forewarning? Someone could have at least put up a sign, "Please pick the flowers, they'll all be gone tomorrow!"
The one consolation, I sighed, it is still early in the spring, perhaps they have time to grow back. I strode along, amazed at the things that keep happening and contemplating how I must write a blog. About that instant, a squirrel jumped to the sidewalk from a nearby tree, ran into the road straight in front of my wheel. With absolutely no time to react, I winced in anticipation of a horrible horrible crunch. His timing was slightly off; he hit the rim of the wheel and violently bounced and scrambled away with an unpleasant squeak.
Heart pounding, reeling over this second near-tragedy, I finally strode into work. Having relayed my amazement at the peculiar events of the morning, my boss replied, "Indeed, crazy squirrels on campus!"
On mon Bicyclette...
I have come to realize this is very dangerous thinking, because that is precisely the moment adventure is imminent.
I crossed the street, happily looking forward to those first red poppies of spring, more springing up by the day. This always ensued a violent argument in my head. Raging between all appearances of the poppies being wild and no one missing a couple poppies to adorn my room and the undiminished childhood memory of motherly admonition, "If everyone picked a flower, there would be none left for everyone else to enjoy." Usually the practicality of--if I picked a flower, I will pick it on the way home--won out. But then biking home, there were no poppies on that side of the road, and between the logistics of having to cross the road twice and my eagerness to be home, all the poppies had been left for everyone else to enjoy, as far as this bicyclist was concerned.
So, I crossed the street with eager expectation, and they were all gone! All the poppies gone--mowed down in their glory!
Crestfallen, shocked, stunned, appalled at the number of vases all of those poppies would have filled. How could they be gone?! The waste! The great tragedy of it all! Why was I not given forewarning? Someone could have at least put up a sign, "Please pick the flowers, they'll all be gone tomorrow!"
The one consolation, I sighed, it is still early in the spring, perhaps they have time to grow back. I strode along, amazed at the things that keep happening and contemplating how I must write a blog. About that instant, a squirrel jumped to the sidewalk from a nearby tree, ran into the road straight in front of my wheel. With absolutely no time to react, I winced in anticipation of a horrible horrible crunch. His timing was slightly off; he hit the rim of the wheel and violently bounced and scrambled away with an unpleasant squeak.
Heart pounding, reeling over this second near-tragedy, I finally strode into work. Having relayed my amazement at the peculiar events of the morning, my boss replied, "Indeed, crazy squirrels on campus!"
On mon Bicyclette...
Friday, July 9, 2010
In which there is a shortened sequel...
Dear Reader,
My profound apologies, but I have decided not to go into great detail on my birthday sequel. It is really too depressing to dwell upon, beyond mentioning the barest facts, I'd rather like to forget.
The barest facts being...
Talking on the phone while biking will have to be conquered in the year to come (before my next birthday.) Conquering riding hands free and talking on the phone while biking, was perhaps a bit ambitious to tackle in the same year.
My wounds, the solid evidence of the above stated fact, are just now almost disappeared. (Though this has given me great occasion over the last week, in all my biology nerdiness, to ponder the wonder of cell growth and it's marvelous role in wound healing.)
And finally, I'm pretty sure it was one of the saddest things the car behind me had ever seen to see this person on a bike happily flying a birthday balloon strung out behind them, severely wipe out on the corner right before their eyes (and I appreciated the concerned inquiry as to my state of being from the driver).
My day went on to quite happier events, and this incident rather unimportant in determining the outcome of that birthday. For now, however, my cell phone shall remain securely in my backpack where it cannot tempt fate and my well being by ringing, oh just a hand's reach away, in my pocket while riding.
On mon bicyclette...
My profound apologies, but I have decided not to go into great detail on my birthday sequel. It is really too depressing to dwell upon, beyond mentioning the barest facts, I'd rather like to forget.
The barest facts being...
Talking on the phone while biking will have to be conquered in the year to come (before my next birthday.) Conquering riding hands free and talking on the phone while biking, was perhaps a bit ambitious to tackle in the same year.
My wounds, the solid evidence of the above stated fact, are just now almost disappeared. (Though this has given me great occasion over the last week, in all my biology nerdiness, to ponder the wonder of cell growth and it's marvelous role in wound healing.)
And finally, I'm pretty sure it was one of the saddest things the car behind me had ever seen to see this person on a bike happily flying a birthday balloon strung out behind them, severely wipe out on the corner right before their eyes (and I appreciated the concerned inquiry as to my state of being from the driver).
My day went on to quite happier events, and this incident rather unimportant in determining the outcome of that birthday. For now, however, my cell phone shall remain securely in my backpack where it cannot tempt fate and my well being by ringing, oh just a hand's reach away, in my pocket while riding.
On mon bicyclette...
Sunday, June 27, 2010
In which the author reflects on where she has come...
I have been very proud of myself as of late, because I do believe "miracle of miracles" as the late Tevye would say...my bicycle coordination and even speed skills are improving. My takeoffs and dismounts are becoming more controlled and, dare I even say, graceful.
Earlier this week I rode completely hands free for a long stretch down nearly our entire street, something I have never done before on a bike. In terms of improved speed, I discovered that my 2nd major gear is in fact a higher faster gear, and it is very fun to use. I did, in fact, outrun one of the buses that circles campus. I outran it not just as it was slowing down for a stop, but as it was accelerating out of a stop. That made me pretty happy all day.
Why all this reflection? It happens that my birthday fell within this past week (always an excellent time to reflect). On this special day I was completely showered with kindness. The thing about birthdays, however, is that they almost invariably involve balloons (which do not fit so well in backpacks). It just so happened that a friend brought me a balloon in the lab, which graced my desk all day, but then of course it comes time to go home. This is where I realized my dilemma of transporting my balloon home.
So my choice lay before me. I could have biked through campus as fast as I could trying to be impossibly inconspicuous, feeling silly and self-conscious the whole time. Or, I could tie my balloon the my backpack, swing up on my bike, flying my bright red balloon detailed with puppy dogs in party hats with giant Happy Birthday letters--and own it. So, being in fairly good birthday spirits, that's what I did...and on my way I decided that everyone else's day was made better by my boldness, (even if the entire campus knew it was my birthday). At least mine would have been if I had been the observer of some cheery person bicycling home, birthday balloon in tow, and y'all would have heard about it too.
I'd like to say I made it home balloon flying out behind me, but somewhat unfortunately the story continues, but that will be for next time...
On mon Bicyclette...
Earlier this week I rode completely hands free for a long stretch down nearly our entire street, something I have never done before on a bike. In terms of improved speed, I discovered that my 2nd major gear is in fact a higher faster gear, and it is very fun to use. I did, in fact, outrun one of the buses that circles campus. I outran it not just as it was slowing down for a stop, but as it was accelerating out of a stop. That made me pretty happy all day.
Why all this reflection? It happens that my birthday fell within this past week (always an excellent time to reflect). On this special day I was completely showered with kindness. The thing about birthdays, however, is that they almost invariably involve balloons (which do not fit so well in backpacks). It just so happened that a friend brought me a balloon in the lab, which graced my desk all day, but then of course it comes time to go home. This is where I realized my dilemma of transporting my balloon home.
So my choice lay before me. I could have biked through campus as fast as I could trying to be impossibly inconspicuous, feeling silly and self-conscious the whole time. Or, I could tie my balloon the my backpack, swing up on my bike, flying my bright red balloon detailed with puppy dogs in party hats with giant Happy Birthday letters--and own it. So, being in fairly good birthday spirits, that's what I did...and on my way I decided that everyone else's day was made better by my boldness, (even if the entire campus knew it was my birthday). At least mine would have been if I had been the observer of some cheery person bicycling home, birthday balloon in tow, and y'all would have heard about it too.
I'd like to say I made it home balloon flying out behind me, but somewhat unfortunately the story continues, but that will be for next time...
On mon Bicyclette...
Saturday, June 26, 2010
In which the author shares her delight of poppies...
The ride by view. Don't try this at home!
Here are some of the poppies! I wish I had had my good camera with me to take pictures as these really do not do justice to them. They bring me such joy every day before and after work. I love my bicycle commute because it makes me more acutely aware of the seasons, as little seasonality as we have here. I love all the little blossoming changes!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
In which the author and a fellow bicyclist create a small scene....
This week I had the good fortune of being able to take a small vacation, which meant this past week I only biked to work Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Surprisingly, I have sorely missed the exercise over the last two days. To counterbalance, I did, however, begin the adventures of last Saturday with a bike ride, and as these adventures were delightful I hope to write more about them and will promise a few pictures as well.
The week began delightfully well. A dear, kind friend friend of mine, after reading about the plight of the helmet of Mambrino, lent me her own. Her action has left me verily astonished not only at its kindness but also-in terms of the helmet itself I am astonished by this technological age of progress that they have even improved helmets in the last few years of my short lifetime! It is a rather ingenious design, self-adjustable for size around the head (not just the chin straps), or better yet to accommodate changes in hair positioning. Frankly this new helmet is so comfortable, I feel in some danger of falling asleep on my rides...like cozy bubble wrap for my head.
Monday evening I was bicycling home, a little excited for the end of a good day,
(excitement = I ride faster). I was contemplating my blog--how I haven't crashed recently nor have I yet had a chance to detail all the crashes of the early days to forewarn my dear reader of the perils of taking up bicycling to work before one has found solid balance. (Let's just say my crashes were to such extent and frequency that one of my roommates recommended the week before I was supposed to be in a wedding, that I pay for 5 days of parking and gas (when my human powered bicycle would do just fine) just so I would not crash and maim myself for all the wedding pictures. This was all while I was really hoping another rather large bruise on my elbow, the remaining marks of a snowboard trip the previous weekend, would finally go away.)
Contemplating these thoughts...Suddenly another bicyclist pops out from behind a parked car to cross the street, feet in front of me. As soon as he saw me, uttered apologies, and for one second I think we both thought we might have been ok and missed eachothers' bikes. The last instant though, I hit his back wheel perpendicularly, the physics of which triggered a slow motion launch of my body over my handlebars onto the pavement below; simultaneously my fellow bicyclist was dumped into the middle of the street. After standing up a little dazed and shaking like a leaf and my brain worked to return from its slow motion collision state to gather information about my surroundings. The developing picture was quite the commotion. Two bicyclist sprawled in the street while surrounding bikes, cars, and pedestrians including the campus bus all stopped around us to avoid any further collision and assess that we were ok.
About this time I was surprised to feel someone brushing off my arm, and turning my head to look I half expected on of my grad student friends to be standing there by some chance having serendipitously observed the nearby scene. Instead I found a very concerned stranger vigorously trying to brush all the leaves and twigs off my fuzzy sweatshirt. Though I did not know her, she smiled at me and thus, in her kindness, in my heart she was a friend.
We both inspected our bikes for injury, apologized profusely. Thankfully little blue was fine, but his back wheel where I had hit was bent pretty well, which I felt pretty terrible about. Nevertheless, we both went on our ways. I shakily rode home. By the time I arrived at my doorstep, I was fully recovered; perhaps in slightly too good spirits, over the fact of having new fodder for my blog. I am really surprised that I did not get hurt worse than the bruises that appeared on my legs and on the heel of my hand throughout the week. After repeatedly playing the inner slow motion video of flying over my handlebars, I still cannot figure out how I landed. Above all I am thankful for all the hand and wrist bones (all my bones for that matter) of my pipetting hands to be intact...but the rest shall remain a mystery.
Yes, yes all a day in the life-
On mon bicyclette...
The week began delightfully well. A dear, kind friend friend of mine, after reading about the plight of the helmet of Mambrino, lent me her own. Her action has left me verily astonished not only at its kindness but also-in terms of the helmet itself I am astonished by this technological age of progress that they have even improved helmets in the last few years of my short lifetime! It is a rather ingenious design, self-adjustable for size around the head (not just the chin straps), or better yet to accommodate changes in hair positioning. Frankly this new helmet is so comfortable, I feel in some danger of falling asleep on my rides...like cozy bubble wrap for my head.
Monday evening I was bicycling home, a little excited for the end of a good day,
(excitement = I ride faster). I was contemplating my blog--how I haven't crashed recently nor have I yet had a chance to detail all the crashes of the early days to forewarn my dear reader of the perils of taking up bicycling to work before one has found solid balance. (Let's just say my crashes were to such extent and frequency that one of my roommates recommended the week before I was supposed to be in a wedding, that I pay for 5 days of parking and gas (when my human powered bicycle would do just fine) just so I would not crash and maim myself for all the wedding pictures. This was all while I was really hoping another rather large bruise on my elbow, the remaining marks of a snowboard trip the previous weekend, would finally go away.)
Contemplating these thoughts...Suddenly another bicyclist pops out from behind a parked car to cross the street, feet in front of me. As soon as he saw me, uttered apologies, and for one second I think we both thought we might have been ok and missed eachothers' bikes. The last instant though, I hit his back wheel perpendicularly, the physics of which triggered a slow motion launch of my body over my handlebars onto the pavement below; simultaneously my fellow bicyclist was dumped into the middle of the street. After standing up a little dazed and shaking like a leaf and my brain worked to return from its slow motion collision state to gather information about my surroundings. The developing picture was quite the commotion. Two bicyclist sprawled in the street while surrounding bikes, cars, and pedestrians including the campus bus all stopped around us to avoid any further collision and assess that we were ok.
About this time I was surprised to feel someone brushing off my arm, and turning my head to look I half expected on of my grad student friends to be standing there by some chance having serendipitously observed the nearby scene. Instead I found a very concerned stranger vigorously trying to brush all the leaves and twigs off my fuzzy sweatshirt. Though I did not know her, she smiled at me and thus, in her kindness, in my heart she was a friend.
We both inspected our bikes for injury, apologized profusely. Thankfully little blue was fine, but his back wheel where I had hit was bent pretty well, which I felt pretty terrible about. Nevertheless, we both went on our ways. I shakily rode home. By the time I arrived at my doorstep, I was fully recovered; perhaps in slightly too good spirits, over the fact of having new fodder for my blog. I am really surprised that I did not get hurt worse than the bruises that appeared on my legs and on the heel of my hand throughout the week. After repeatedly playing the inner slow motion video of flying over my handlebars, I still cannot figure out how I landed. Above all I am thankful for all the hand and wrist bones (all my bones for that matter) of my pipetting hands to be intact...but the rest shall remain a mystery.
Yes, yes all a day in the life-
On mon bicyclette...
Thursday, May 20, 2010
In which the author notes the activities at the park...
Tonight when I biked home, the park I pass was abuzz with activity. On one half of the field, Little Leaguers in their miniature crimson, baseball uniforms ran around, parents eagerly assisting, the air filled with happy clamor...On the far side of the park stood two net goals, establishing the parameters of a soccer game...ahh brings me back...to the days of playing T-ball in pigtails and tripping boys in soccer games (always going for the ball of course--and the ref always took my side--maybe the pigtails helped =)
On mon bicyclette...
On mon bicyclette...
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