More Bike, Less Bus, Movies and a Mouse

As I start building back up to my normal bike riding, I continue to feel more like myself, less trapped. My motivation this weekend was to catch up on pre-Oscar movie viewing and make a Trader Joe’s run for heavy staples (soymilk, yogurt, tofu, trail mix).

On Friday, I had intended to bike to physical therapy but, as I was about to leave the house, it seemed to be raining. I was worried about having to bike home from the metro at the end of the day in the dark rain, so I changed my mind and took the bus. Big mistake. The bus ran way late, making me late for my appointment, although, on the bright side, I’m starting to develop a pretty nice bus stop yoga routine.

So when Saturday dawned foggy and drizzly, I hopped on the bike, undeterred. In the morning there was just a light mist, but by afternoon, the sun had come out and I ended up being overdressed, peeling off layers for the trip home. I saw the hilarious Silver Linings Playbook, did my shopping and got in about 9 miles of bike riding.

This morning, I biked to yoga and – surprise – at long last there was bike parking in front of the studio! No more locking my bike to the railing and (slightly) obstructing the yogis’ entrance to the studio (which I always considered somewhat bad form, being the teacher and all). There were still bits of plastic clinging to the “staple” and the cement looked fresh. There was one staple right in front of the studio and another down the block in front of the hardware store. I was delighted to see that, by the time I left, there was another bike locked to the other staple. Although today was even drizzlier than yesterday, the streets of Arlington were peopled with other cyclists, enjoying the mild temperature. After yoga, I grabbed some lunch and went to see Argo. I needed the yoga after that movie, which had me on the edge of my seat.

If you look closely you can still see bits of plastic wrap clinging to the "staple"

On the way home, I took the street route (shorter and fewer hills than the bike path) and chanced to see a small gray mouse cross George Mason Drive in front of me. Seeing how tiny and scared it looked, it made me feel foolish that I have such an overblown fear of the mice that have invaded my house this winter. Worse, I felt ashamed about my vicious attempts to eradicate them in a very un-yogic way. So much for ahimsa (non-harming). What can I say, my two little Westies are falling down on the job: they’re terriers and should have more zeal for hunting small rodents. Still, if I’d been in a motor vehicle, I probably wouldn’t have even seen the mouse – which gave me a moment for reflection this afternoon. Another benefit of bike riding…

Identity Theft

No, I didn’t lose my wallet, and no one hacked my Social Security number. But five weeks ago I had surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff and, in the aftermath, I began to feel like my identity had been stolen away, bit by bit. I didn’t expect to do much the first week or so, besides going through bags of ice and learning to navigate life with my right arm in a sling. But getting out of the sling was the light at the end of my tunnel. I thought that surely, once I was freed of this arm-prison, life would start getting back to normal.

            How wrong I was. Many people had warned me that rehab would be worse than surgery, and they weren’t kidding. Physical therapy three times a week is grueling, as are the exercises I must force myself to do at home. My range of motion is pathetic for anyone, much less a yoga teacher. And while the post-operative pain was minor, my newly freed arm now hangs from my shoulder like a piece of wood – feeling dead and disconnected from my body, except for it’s near-constant ache.

            But worse than these inconveniences, I began to feel old and downtrodden. Without the ability to get around by bike or car, I either walked or used public transit, learning many of Arlington’s bus routes, which I’d previously scorned. On Sundays, buses run once an hour, if at all. Shivering at cold at bus stops, I learned that “schedules” are more of an idea than a reality. And going anywhere took advance planning – checking bus routes and schedules (however inaccurate they were) – and required calculating how far I would have to carry any heavy purchases. A half-gallon of soymilk and a bag of fruit get heavy after a few blocks, especially when you can only use one of your arms for carrying.

Who was I anymore? I felt like I just trudged to and from PT and work by bus and metro, got home in the dark, ate dinner, and spent 9-10 hours in bed, trying to sleep, the arm pain worse at night. Watching movies while I rode the stationary bike in my basement was my “fun.” And then, on top of everything, I developed a sensitive blister on the sole of my left heel. Now I couldn’t even walk more than a block or two without pain.

So this morning I experimented with where I could hold my right arm in front of me and decided to see if it could reach the handlebar of my bike. My motivation was getting to the Falls Church farmer’s market – a vision of my favorite Gold Rush apples spurring me into action. I was not deterred by the 40-degree weather and figured the 2-mile trip, which had only mild hills, would be a good maiden voyage.

Reaching the handlebar wasn’t too much of a stretch, though I did have to periodically let my arm dangle at my side. I rode with extra caution, as sudden movements send a searing pain through my arm that reverberates for minutes afterwards.

I made it to the market without a hitch, loaded 6 pounds of apples into my pannier, and headed home with a smile on my face, the joy of normalcy restored, at least somewhat, to my life. I don’t think I’m ready for big hills or traffic-filled streets, but I’m starting to feel like myself again. I bit into my apple, tart and crisp, just the way I like them. The sweet part was the feeling of liberation I felt by getting back on my bike.

Healing: Looking Forward to Pain

Two down, two to go: I’m halfway through having my right arm in a sling for 4 weeks. My rotator cuff is re-anchored and, now, tight as a drum – but healing. Surgery and post-op pain have been minor inconveniences. The happy miracle was the effectiveness of a yoga breathing technique: long deep belly breaths, using an image of sending healing prana into the pain, and removing it through the breath. I was amazed that as few as 2 rounds of this breathing technique TOTALLY removed the pain and was relieved to need no drug stronger than ibuprofen…and a lot of ice.

During the first week, every small daily task I’d taken for granted as an able-bodied person took forever. Getting dressed, eating, and bathing all take a lot longer with one hand. I moved the computer mouse to the left, but learning to use it with my non-dominant hand, to click and drag, much less type, felt awkward and was frustratingly s…l…o…w.

But by week two, I felt more energetic and started to go for little walks around the neighborhood, ride my stationary bike, and make a few trips by public transport. Over the weekend, in desperation to get out of the house and see a movie, I took two buses to see The Other Son – a moving tale of switched identities between an Israeli and a Palestinian, and what they and their families learned about each others’ cultures. But it was a lovely day and the hour-long, not-exactly-direct, bus trip would have taken just half an hour by bike (not to mention being free).

When I’m out, I look wistfully at the cyclists, taking trips in this still-mild winter weather. Every day, I force myself to get on the stationary bike. It burns calories, it tones my muscles, it works my heart, but there is no joy in the activity, as there is whenever I ride my “real” bike. And, of course, I don’t get anywhere on it. No matter how long I ride, I’m still sitting in my basement, drenched in sweat. I miss the momentum, the sun and wind on my face, the things I see, the places I go, and even the prickling cold fingers and ears. Several times this week, as I’ve been getting ready for a short walking errand, the thought has flashed through my head: how hard would it be to ride my bike 1-handed? But I quickly squelch that rogue thought. I wouldn’t be comfortable riding with one hand, even if the other wasn’t confined to a sling. I’m not about to risk a crash and mess up my newly repaired shoulder.

 

I know that I’ll ride my real bike again and that, eventually, I’ll be able to stretch my right arm above my head, lift heavy objects, and invigorate my whole body with a downward-facing dog pose. So I cultivate patience, looking forward to starting the painful, grueling process of PT next week. Unlike riding my stationary bike, at least I’ll be getting somewhere.

Cycle Chic...Moi?

I am generally as far from “cycle chic” as it gets. My typical commute is 10 miles and I sweat like a pig – even in cold weather. So biking in work clothes…I don’t think so. Besides, comfort is more my style, and I’m usually clad in lycra or fleece – depending on the season. However, if I’m just riding my bike to the metro, I try to wear my “normal” clothes (which aren’t very chic, but a cut above sweat pants).

But this morning, I was taking the Arlington wiggle to the Ballston metro – about a 3-mile ride and it was brisk, but not too cold. On a whim, I put on black tights, short little boots and a claret-colored Betsey Johnson dress with a swingy skirt that I nabbed for a couple dollars in an Olympia, WA thrift store. Topped off with a tight black jacket and a scarf wound round my neck, I took off about 8:20 a.m. feeling, well, chic.

The “wiggle” takes me through my Arlington, VA neighborhood, and I was just in time for the elementary school bus pick-ups. The streets were swarmed with the big yellow monsters, and there were loads of kids with their parents clustered at the bus stops. I secretly hoped that I was inspiring the bus stop kids to beg their parents to let them bike to school, feeling like a good role model for the joys of bike riding.

Maybe it was my imagination, or perhaps it was my good mood – feeling so light and free on my bike, and having my current favorite song-to-bike-to come on Pandora (J Band, Take Our Turn – I don’t care if it is about Jesus) but I definitely think I got a lot more smiles from people while I was wearing my “chic” outfit. Is there something about wearing lycra that creates a subliminal (if not totally conscious) antipathy in non-bikers? Are all people in lycra associated with the obnoxious and impatient racer-types who cut in and out of traffic and seem grimly intense in their pursuit of speed? Or is it just that people still prefer to see a woman in a dress than in sports gear?

In any case, it made me re-think this whole “cycle chic” debate. I have to say, riding in tights and a loose, swingy, stretchy skirt was as comfortable as could be. Sadly, it was really, truly my last ride before shoulder surgery, but once I’m out of the sling, I may rethink my bike attire, trying to add some more “normal” clothes for short trips and see if the smiles are sustained.

Car Free?

            I’ve now been car free for about half an hour, having just signed over the title to my 2005 Prius to my 19-year-old daughter. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around – the young people relying on bikes and public transit and the older generation tied to our cars? But I won’t proclaim car freedom yet, as this is the beginning of an experiment. And my timing of becoming car free is hardly carefree.

            On Thursday I undergo arthroscopic surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff, so I will hardly be going anywhere for several weeks. I wouldn’t be driving anyway, nor will I be biking. That made this morning’s bike commute especially poignant, as it may be the last, or one of the last for the year. So public transit will be my new best friend – at least I hope it will be more friend than foe

            In any case, I still had many fresh-looking bouquets of flowers from my daughter’s pre-Thanksgiving dumpster dive at Trader Joe’s. So I strapped them to the back rack of my bike with 2 bungee cords and had a colorful ride to work. I shared the bounty with my office colleagues and, I hope, brightened the morning commute for others on the bike path and the streets of downtown D.C.

            I noticed that the entrance to the south side of the National Mall is now open, so I rode that nice smooth stretch, which I haven’t done in months – having been riding along the north side. It felt like old times to ride around the WWII Memorial, before heading toward the Pennsylvania Avenue velobahn. The pre-inaugural resurfacing is in progress, so the bike lanes are so much smoother, but a bit scary without lane markings. And they seem to have changed the timing of the lights to prevent zooming down the avenue – or perhaps I was just slow, being mindful of the flowers. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the brisk morning and felt happy to count myself among the balaclava brigade of cold-weather cyclists.

            My daughter plans to spend the next month driving back to the West coast, visiting friends and family along the way. Once she registers the car, she will send back to me my prized YOGINI vanity plates. They won’t go up for grabs for 90 days – giving me that much time to decide whether they will adorn my wall as a reminder of my driving days, or whether I will break down and get a new Prius. I plan to take advantage of my Washington Area Bicyclists Association (WABA) discount on a Zipcar membership, and perhaps join Car2Go, as well, as I saw they have a $10 deal on membership.

            In addition to having constrained transportation options for the next month or so, I will also have keyboard limits, as my right arm will be immobilized in a sling. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the long period of rehab, but I am motivated to get well enough to get back on the bike, to carry it up and down the stairs, to lift it onto and off of the bus rack, and wall rack and, of course, not to experience pain during simple getting-dressed movements.

           

            In anticipation of going (at least temporarily) carless, I stocked up on heavy items, like dog food, laundry soap, a big jug of olive oil, and pounds of nuts. I took the dogs to the groomer and to the vet. But I really want to take this time as an experiment, not berating myself if I ultimately decide that the car free life is not for me, or at least, not yet.

How Could Anyone Want More?

            My dumpster-diver daughter is home for a visit. She knows from experience that the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving will yield an extraordinary haul at Trader Joe’s – which is closed on the holiday and likely to have overstocked in advance. I heard her coming home in the middle of the night, and figured she’d gone to check it out. What a surprise I came downstairs to this morning: a veritable flower shop in my living room.

            The day dawned sunny and crisp, perfect for a bike ride. There were a few things I needed from the store to supplement the dumpster haul. I strapped panniers on my workhorse bike and rode to the Harris-Teeter that’s 5 miles from home, instead of the one that’s just half a mile away, wanting to enjoy a glorious ride. Families walking, children playing, and other cyclists presumably out for a pre-pig-out ride populated the bike path and adjacent parks and playgrounds.

I didn’t really have to go to the store today, but I knew that I would in the next few days and figured I’d take advantage of the Thursday senior discount, which I now qualify for. Why not? Of course, I’m grateful that I’m still fit and energetic enough to bike 10 miles in pursuit of food, now that I’m a “senior.”

We won’t be having a traditional Thanksgiving. My daughter and her friend are ardent Anarchists who object to the celebration of a Colonialist holiday – especially one that presaged the near-genocide of the Native American people. I agree with the political stance, but nevertheless, I enjoy setting aside this day to focus on all I have to be thankful for – not the least of which is a passionate, spirited child.

I tried to give away some of the flowers to local nursing homes, thinking the residents and staff might enjoy some brightness – but after calling around, no one seemed interested in taking them. So instead, I focused on designing a menu that would use the dumpstered ingredients to supplement the other foods on hand. I will admit that I was a bit squeamish when she first started bringing home dumpster food a few years ago. But having seen the perfectly good things that are thrown away – the huge quantities of waste – I’ve changed my mind (at least in cold weather). We’ll be having Brussels sprout soup, tossed salad, spanikopita, and the essential: pecan pie for dessert.

Listening to Pandora on my ride, I heard Barefoot Truth’s The Ocean, and thought it was a perfect Thanksgiving refrain:

Every now and then
I sit and I think about this life
And I say "yeah, how could anyone want more?"

Wiggle Room

True confessions: if I can avoid a hill, I’d just as soon do so. Well, at least the UP part of it. I felt like less of a wimp when I read the recent report on what bike riders really want. Turns out I’m not alone. Non-commuters will ride 1.7 flat miles to avoid 1 mile with a modest 2-4 percent upslope; even we hardy commuters will go 1.4 miles…and the steeper the slope, the greater lengths we’ll travel to avoid it.

For some time, I’d noticed that when I consulted Google maps to plan out a bike route, it suggested a zigzagging path through my neighborhood. I was in the habit of riding slightly farther, in order to get on the bike path as soon as possible, when I intended to travel east. When I take the path, the early stretch on the Custis Trail has a few steep up hills. When I go to the yoga studio, I usually take side streets, instead of the path, but still have three big hills to climb in the short 2.5-mile ride. When I looked up directions to yoga on Google, it again stubbornly recommended the strange zigzagging route, even though it was clearly longer.

Finally the light bulb went off. I remembered my excitement last summer when I learned about the San Francisco wiggle, a genius, east-west route through that city’s valleys, which allows bike riders to avoid the steeps ups and downs that characterize San Francisco. Could Google maps be kind and generous enough to be pointing me toward my own little Arlington wiggle?

In Google I should have trusted. This funny little zigzag through my neighborhood doesn’t avoid all hills, but it definitely minimizes the amount of climbing I must endure. Last Sunday I took the Arlington wiggle to the yoga studio – a slightly longer, but far less taxing ride. I also took it on a trip to Clarendon, where I purchased a brighter bike light (with a rechargeable battery, yay!) for these short days.

The wiggle is changing my life. One might be inclined to think it’s a change in the wrong direction – toward greater laziness and sloth. But I don’t see it that way. Some days I’m up for the challenge of hills and imagine I will still climb them – especially if I just want to take the most direct route or am feeling especially strong and energetic. But other days, the thought of those big climbs is enough to make me avoid the bike altogether. Knowing I have the option of the wiggle makes it easier to get on the bike. Once I start pedaling, who knows, maybe I’ll decide I’m up for the hills after all.

But I also realized that there are times when it’s better to take it a bit easier. Last week, I was fighting a cold, but nevertheless bike commuted a couple days in 40-ish degree weather. I could feel that I didn’t have my usual amount of stamina and, in retrospect, I think it would have been wiser to choose metro over bike. So today, I compromised. I didn’t bike the full 10 miles to work, but I also didn’t bike to my nearest metro stop, which is just under a mile from home. Instead, I biked to the next metro stop (Ballston) – an easy 3-mile ride (using the wiggle) – with the added advantage of a 70-cent fare reduction, each direction. Don’t laugh – those savings can add up and my new light was expensive! In any case, I’m glad to have a little extra “wiggle room” in my bike route options.