The machine that cuts a path through the darkness.
Reality is always an unpleasant surprise; no one wants to see ourselves the way others see us, and that’s for good reason, too: depression would be much more widespread problem if each of us realized what a pain in the ass we are. Speaking of unpleasant realities, after recently reviewing videos of myself speaking, I have deduced that I have the face for radio, the hand gesticulations for both Mime and Cheerleading (neither for which I have an ambition), and the voice for print. That leaves me with the Internet.
A long commute to work in darkness is a surreal experience. The early hour leaves the road vacant, and the rider is confined to the small cone of light beyond which exists only blackness. The mind settles into the vampire state of wandering a being alert all at once. Thoughts of the day’s work will lay somewhere on the periphery; not front of mind, yet inexorably nearer with every stroke of the pedals. The rain and cold amplify the effect.
Strange thoughts are thought in this state, not unlike those you might have just as you catch yourself falling asleep. The first paragraph of this article is a fine example of such a thought. For this, I ask your forgiveness.
The commute presents its own challenge, new obstacles to overcome. The wet winter commute sandwiches the workday like two soggy slices of bread. One finds very quickly that it is not the cold, the dark or the wet that is unpleasant; it is the sodden kit hanging in a locker all day not getting fresher that is unpleasant.
This morning looked dry from the bedroom window, a terrible place from which to judge the weather. Rain was in the forecast (this is Seattle and January, after all), so I slipped into my Gabba jersey as easily as James Bond slips into a dinner jacket. I stepped outside and noted that it would be nice if the weather stayed dry for the ride in so the kit might be more pleasant when dressing for the evening’s ride home.
I should know better than to think such thoughts; the rain was summoned immediately by the Nine Gods to remind me that the Glory of Rule #9 is not chosen at the rider’s convenience or whim. Fool.
Riding with a backpack is a nuisance. As Velominati, we have refined our position and learned to control the bike through micro-movements and immeasurable shifts of body weight. The gear-loaded backpack is a sledgehammer to our china cup of balance. Our position feels off, the bike handles differently, and we are heavier by two kilos at least. This, along with every other reason you can think of why backpacks suck, is more than enough to encourage one to avoid the climbs, especially the steep ones.
But there is a beauty behind the nuisance: climbing with a heavy load is like training in a fat suit. Seek out the hardest climbs and the next time you ride without a pack, you will feel as though you were given wings. Instant morale.
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@bea I'm liking the system you've got. My commute is similarly short... I'll have to give it a go.
@Chris
Can't complain too much, if on the bike. If you're cold, just go faster. If hot, faster is probably still a good idea :) Then again, it doesn't typically get bone breaking cold up in the NW USA, so the cold is typically more of a mental hurdle to overcome. Fortunately we don't get consistent wind here. Gusty wind is downright dangerous, nearly ran into a no-parking sign when going less than 10km/hr late last year!
Now, sitting down for any period of time after the commute, that's just torture.
I started commuting again last year as a way to get fit and some k's in the legs. I had fond memories of commuting as a student in all weather and after some hard morning training rides.
When I was a student I didn't have a car or much money so I rode in all weather conditions but now I have become a bit softer. Backpack space was limited then so if it was raining I would take a spare pair of shorts and not bother with socks, so on the ride home I would have dry pants and dry feet (for a little while). I'm in Auckland, NZ so it doesn't get very cold but it can be quite tropical, but if I was cold I would just throw it a big gear to warm up faster at the beginning of the ride.
Now I lug a laptop, lunch, clothes and other bits to work most days a week (32km return trip). Even with all that weight its still enjoyable and beats sitting in queues and I feel less stressed. I upgraded all my lights and got some Monkeylights which really make you visible from the side although you look a bit like a christmas tree riding along
At the moment I have the opposite problem to you guys in the northern hemisphere as its 20-30 degrees Celsius here, so a cold shower at work is the only way to cool down!
I have found the perfect strength training and technique aid, it consists of two full growlers of beer in a backpack. The extra weight makes you stronger and you better have a perfect fucking stroke or you're going to have ruined beer upon your arrival.
If you are planning on starting commuting to work by bike, always keep a spare pair of everything (clothing wise) at work. As resplendent as you may look in your kit, walking around the office in it all day diminishes that somewhat.
I wish I could do that, I have a locker, but no shower. Not that it matters, I work at US Steel, so being a little sour smelling at work is nothing considering the entire place smells like the rear entrance of Hell.
My problem is the area I'd be commuting through- Gary, Indiana and all it's charm and hospitality such as; the open-air (drug) Market, the fantastic (crumbling and abandoned) architecture, throngs of wandering (homeless/junkie) couples and the city's youth (gangs) strolling NWI's gorgeous own sectors of cobbles, (broken glass, potholes to swallow cars, streets that have been neglected since the 1960's, multiple train crossings), not to mention the abundant wildlife (packs of wild dogs).Chaining my bike to the fence is really no obstacle to those that would have her, and those that would are many and quite determined.
Being wet and cold and alternately extremely hot is not on my short list, I do it for my daily bread, which will probably be for another 25 grinding years. So in short, I'm chained to the truck for my daily commute. I dream of a daily commute that would take me through somewhere I didn't have to contend with all the above.
But, on a high note working shift work with rotating off days and long weekends (21 Turn, look it up) affords me a rare glimpse of life. Like on a pleasant Tuesday post rush-hour morning enjoying my bike making the surrounding suburbs and countryside relatively car-free and wishing those rides would last forever- the coffee shops free of lines, the few LBS's open for browsing and chatting with the owner, and getting a quick once over on the bike ( sometimes free of charge) makes it all worth it.
Living in the high desert is a very different life. It's the 42*C rides home where you feel that every breath sears the sand to your throat and the already thin air of 1600m above sea level seems to suffocate you even more so.
But on the bright side! (and I am not referring to the 278 days of sunshine in a year) Rust is never an issue.
Sometimes it rains, sometimes you watch the sun creep into view. There is nothing like a foggy morning in a marine environment on a cool clear morning when the sun rises over the mountains. Unreal.
Started in the pure darkness, and was greeted by this sight just as I was about to cross the lake. No skanky kit to slip into this afternoon, no sireebob.
@Ron
As you've decided to throw all style out of the window, why not go the full hog and slip a couple of plastic bags over your shoes, kept in place with rubber bands? To complete the tramp look, make sure they are different colours.
PS I bet you've got a beard as well. ;-)
@frank
Now that's what it's all about! Mother Nature's porn right ther.
This thread is making me appreciate the days I can commute by bike all the more.
I'll wait for a crisp, clear day and get a snap of the Cardiff skyline in the morning.