As I read a few folks’ blogs last week, and noticed the playlists they were forming for their long rides, I became entranced by a vision. I see myself steaming along the Capital Crescent Trail, early in the morning, spirits buoyed by something upbeat, perhaps Spirit of the Radio. Then, I become inspired by High on Fire’s face-melting guitar licks and hammering toms to get out of the saddle and crank like hell. Finally, Tom Jones croons me down, I find an easy, solid cadence, and keep on rollin’ towards the Green, Green Grass of Home. It’s a beautiful, bewitching dream, no?

The beauty of the dream, however, is betrayed by the reality of personal audio devices. Frequently, I’ve been on the business end of what I initially believed to be shockingly inconsiderate behavior, only to approach the person and realize that it wasn’t deliberate thoughtlessness so much as earbud-induced, inadverdent obliviousness to the flow of the world around them. And numerous times, I’ve witnessed someone nearly eliminate themselves from The Great Darwinian Contest by rocking the soundtrack of their life a little louder than other sounds that are, I realize, less appealing, but nevertheless crucial to one’s safety. Approaching cars and jealous, well-armed spouses, f’rinstance.

But I felt like I could be different. I figured if I was wearing headphones, and came to the top of a subway escalator, I’d have enough presence of mind to clear the way and dart the eyes. I figured that I’d never ride wearing headphones on any street with significant traffic, and I’d otherwise keep the volume low enough to hear music and people on paths and trails. Maybe I was right, maybe not, but Geddy Lee, Matt Pike, and Tom Jones were egging me on and I couldn’t resist. So I bought an MP3 player.

Friday night, I stayed up late after the kids went to bed, loading up 300ish songs, carefully selected from several thousand, and cross sorting them into playlists that reflected genre, personal categories, and most importantly, tempo. It was late when I got to bed, and I knew that the ride I had planned for the morning would hurt a little more, but I figured I could always turn to the Reverend Horton Heat if I needed to pick it up.

Saturday morning, Rebbie and I loaded up Nigel, and rode off to the Mt. Pleasant Farmers’ Market, where I was gonna hook up with my buddy Mark, who is also an intrepid Xtracyclist. Our plan was to head down to Tryst for coffee and pie, then ride our longtails out to Mt. Vernon and back along the Mt. Vernon Trail. I was a little spun, but it was a truly gorgeous morning, my legs felt good, and spinning the cranks got me fired up. About 3 miles from home, I looked down and realized that the player I’d clipped to my shorts, the one I’d bought less than 24 hours ago and finished loading less than 5 hours before, had vanished.

So, besides the fact that I’d just lit $50 on fire, and that I’d traded 3.5 of my planned 8 hours of sleep to go all music-geeky late into the night, I had to explain to my wife that not only had I spent money on electronics, but had spent it on a device that we’ve both roundly reviled over and over for its impracticality as a cycling accessory (or a walking accessory for that matter, assuming one wants to be aware of, and involved in, one’s surroundings). She didn’t actually give me any more flak than I deserved, but it still added a dollop of humiliation to the loss.

I’d write it off as a lesson learned, but the dream of adding music to the miles is too desirable, and Lee, Pike, and Jones are not a trio of imaginary guiding angels to be ignored. If any of ya’s out there have a 2 or 4 gig flash-based player that’s just gathering dust in your gadget drawer, I’d be happy to put it to good use. Otherwise, I’ll probably get another one and try again. If you have any tips for staying alert, being considerate, and not endangering one’s self, feel free to leave them in comments. Actually, if you have any amusing anecdotes about failing to stay alert, being an inadvertent jackass, or hilariously almost killing oneself while rocking out, feel free to share them too.

The ride, incidentally, was outstanding. Coffee at Tryst was good, and the blueberry pie was yummy. The ride down Rock Creek Park and across the Arlington Memorial Bridge was a fine warm-up, Nigel ran smooth as the pie made its way into my bloodstream. The trail ran south past Reagan National Airport, and wound along the Potomac for 16 miles and change from the bridge. Mt. Vernon was lovely, the ride back was pretty spirited for a couple old guys drivin’ haulers, and we stopped in Old Town Alexandria for a burger and Yuengling before heading back into the city. Once I hit the other side of the bridge, I worked back up to the market, picked up Wife and Daughter, and headed home to prepare for Tent Night at the Pool. The weekend turned out great, the whole family had a great time, and by Sunday night I’d clocked 176 miles for the week.

Not bad! Though I can’t help but wonder if I could’ve made the jump from “awesome” to “epic” if only Geddy, Matt, and Tom had been there with me.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 29th, 2009 at 11:06 am and is filed under Cycling, Laments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.