Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I will admit I romanticized my memory of commuting. To be fair my old ride was three miles and my current commute is five. I distinctly remember it being an easy ride, and it was almost entirely on trail.
Now I must be in actual traffic. The same traffic that I can barely stand in my car with the A/C and my Jeff Buckley Pandora station, at just the right volume. The Tazo Awake brewed to perfection in an aluminium cup resting snugly in my holder. I scream at the top of my lungs for people to stay in their lane, to go, to stop, as they approach stop signs, at salt flat speed. Ya! That's how I feel in my F*+^%$# car!
Oh! I forgot what it's like to be out of the saddle, grunting up a climb, when you are barely awake. To have that heavy pack smoldering on your back. The joy of sucking exhaust from the tip of a Suburban, driven by woman on the phone, waiting to turn right, parked in the bike lane. The sphincter tightening sprint down Park Ave. Most of all, I forgot the judgemental stares of the smokers outside the basement entrance to my office (really a converted storage closet...but hey it's a corner and has three windows!).
The worst part is the laundry. I usually wear jeans a few times before I wash them and twice on dress shirts. I hate doing laundry. I edit audio on a computer in an office that's kept at whale hunting temps all day. Pit stains are not a problem. After the 25 minute jaunt to work by bike, you sweat for about a half hour after you change, and all the clothes require cleaning, EVERYDAY! I use twice as many bike clothes, since I am still doing the same after work rides. That means I hit the end of my clothes in two days. You have to get everything together the night before because being late on a bike means being REALLY late. Nothing makes the smokers happier to see you in the clown suit, than the additional bonus of getting to glance at their watch, raise their eye brows and ask if you are off that day.
I do enjoy it. It's nice to have ten miles in at the beginning of group rides. At this point the benefit is not apparent, but I feel different. I love looking at houses. I love that dawn patrol feeling. Yes, I love riding in traffic. I can't explain it. It's a rush. Something is wrong with me....as if you didn't know.