I was just reading a post from a normally indefatigable friend of mine who’s struggling with motivation to keep racing. My guess is that, rather than a surrender, this is a small crisis of conscience that will burn off whatever doubts she has about taking it to the next level, because she’s a bad-ass and everything she’s written about it thus far has been excitement and fire and joy.

But it did get me thinking about my relationship to cycling, and the things I’ve accomplished this year, and where I want it to go from here. I’ve logged about 4000 miles this year, most of them commuting miles, but at least a thousand of them were training for and riding my first century back in August.

As I began training for that ride, I’d thought I might be taking my first step towards getting into serious road riding. I put in pre-dawn miles and went after hills and thought about how heavy my bike was and how thick my tires were. I ate little blocks of gummi caffeine and sugar, occasionally found someone else going fast to trade drafting duties with, and wondered if I should get serious and trade the pedal clips for real cycling shoes and clipless pedals. I thought about joining a club and riding a featherweight bike in a paceline on Saturday mornings, and derided myself for having a triple crank.

Some things have become clear to me since then, most notably that performance road riding’s not my cup of tea. Occasionally I take on something that seems big and challenging out of curiosity or to prove something to myself, or in the case of the Livestrong Challenge because I wanted to do something good and difficult. But the truth is that I just don’t have much of a passion for pushing the envelope, my competitive fire doesn’t burn all that hot, and that anything that starts feeling like Serious Business loses my attention. I’m bliss-driven.

For example, I’ve gone weeks without making it out to a disc golf course, but I’ll still get up at 5:00 a.m. a few times a week to head out to a field with a stack of Rocs or Teebirds for an hour or so before work. There’s a peripheral motivation to become a better disc golfer and a stronger competitor, but that’s not really why I do it. I do it because I love throwing discs, I love shaping lines in the sky and watching the disc follow them. If there were no courses nearby, I’d still get out to a field because I love the snap of the throw and the shape of the flight, and I experience a lot of perfect moments doing it.

The perfect moments I have on bikes are blissful and joyous, very few of them have involved much suffering. The best rides I’ve had this year have been on partly cloudy days in the mid-60’s, flying down brick alleys on 60mm balloon tires with my hands wrapped around a pair of Albatross bars. I love riding my Xtracycle with my daughter to her school. I love wrenching on our bikes and building wheels and tuning drivetrains until they’re quiet and smooth. I love bunny-hopping and off-street bike trails and saying Good Morning to crossing guards on my way to work and cranking and rolling and flowing with traffic and breathing the air and having nothing but the sky above me the whole time. My brass bell is one of the prettiest tones I can think of. Sometimes, I like to go slow.

There’s a hundred things that make me smile about being on a bike, but there’s not a single one of them that a heart-rate monitor would make any better for me. Sometimes I wish that weren’t the case. Sometimes, I think it would be awesome to be driven to achieve peak performance, to measure my effort by my perseverance and endurance, to conquer and win. And I enjoy watching folks with those qualities struggle and grind and endure, I’m amazed by their superhumanity (as well as their humanity) and take delight in their performances. But the only measures of my cycling experience that really motivate me are grins and laughs.

I realized that I wasn’t dissatisfied because my Long Haul Trucker was the wrong bike for how I wanted to ride, but rather that I wasn’t doing the kind of riding I truly love doing (for which the Trucker actually is perfect). I put the fenders back on, the clips came off the pedals (though I may pick up a pair of these or these for traction), and it’s getting mustache bars at the earliest opportunity.

I also picked up a beautiful Paramount Series 3 earlier this year, and had plans to outfit it for road riding. But I think I’m going to put riser bars, platform pedals, and 28’s on it instead. I may not have room for a serious road bike in my stable, but I can make room for a zippy street bike. Especially if it’s fun to ride.

Twilight comes late enough to feel like summer, but the waning daylight is evident, and it’s dark when we put the kids to bed. The transition from summer to fall, however, hasn’t been so much a cross-fade as a knife-switch. It took a while for summer’s dog days to arrive, finally coming in August, but in the span of the last 3 days, it’s gone from sleeping-on-top-of-the-sheets hot to it’s-a-great-day-for-football mild. I half expected to come outside this morning, watch every leaf on our street turn red in thirty seconds, and crash to the sidewalk all at once.

This year’s three-month bivouac at the pool is winding down, and once again the last days inspire both panic and relief. The pool itself is a delight, but it’s the grounds and the community that keep us in its orbit all summer long. We let the kids off leash to run with their toddler cohort, cook on community grills while our kitchen remains cool and un-thrashed, get to enjoy a beer (and sometimes more than one), and mingle with our friends in a pleasant meadow. We don’t even have to arrange to meet anyone. I mean, where else are they gonna go?

On the other hand, it tends to dominate the season. In early June, The missus was frantically trying to get the kids and I out the door. I hesitated, looked back, expressed my need to do something about our unfit-for-habitation living room and said I’d meet them later. “What are you talking about?” she said in disbelief, “The pool’s open! We’ll clean in September! Let’s go!” So, in that sense, we’re looking forward to blowing the dust of our project list and seeing what else there is to do.

One big project did get off the ground, though. The Wife’s other gig has been kick-ass this season. We’ve been blessed with berries and peaches and bread and all sorts of delicious local produce. She also came into this season hell-bent to realize a vision, a bike clinic, staffed with volunteers, who’d teach people about bike maintainence, do some repairs, and generally encourage people to get their bikes on the road. I have to admit, I was skeptical that it could work (and leary of being sucked into it since I already take over the kids on Saturday mornings while she’s market-managing). But lo and behold, smart, motivated people jumped right in, got folks signed up, and the results have been stunning. I worked one Saturday with 2-4 other volunteers, and didn’t stop from the opening bell until an hour after market closed. We’d helped over 30 people tune their bikes, and several of those folks have turned around and become volunteers since then. Meanwhile, some enterprising yoots down ’round the Bloomingdale Farmers’ Market have started up their own bike clinic, which we stopped by on Sunday morning, and it was totally hoppin’.

I gotta say, I’d be proud just to know my wife if I wasn’t lucky enough to be married to her.

Cledus and I had an incredible summer together, logging over 1700 miles and climbing almost 60,000 feet since Memorial Day, bringing my totals for the first two-thirds of the year to over 3100 miles and over 100,000 feet of climbing. Our many miles together culminated in my first ever century, which was far and away the baddest-ass thing I’ve done this year, and raising money and riding for Team Fatty made it even more meaningful. I’ll likely do more centuries, but I’ll always regard that one with a special fondness.

So into fall we go. With school starting, children to transport, backpacks to haul, and layers to carry, the swift-strike of a commute I make on Cledus will be replaced most mornings with the happy rolling melody of Nigel’s fat, creamy tires chewing up bricks, asphalt, and gravel with gusto. To tell you the truth, it’s hard to be sad about the transition when they both put such a big grin on my face. And while I’ve certainly enjoyed racking up road miles, the completion of the big ride and the crisp shift in seasons will mark a return to a more balanced palette of adventures. I’m itchy to throw plastic at metal, which I mostly gave up for training, and longtail camping trips up the C&O are definitely in order now that mosquitoes are no longer part of the experience and there’s enough snap in the air to make the first cup of coffee extra awesome.

Speaking of longtail projects, we’ve convinced more of our friends to take the plunge! They asked what it would take to make it happen, I pointed them towards a beautiful mid-90’s Trek 930 being sold nearby, they wisely jumped on it and pulled the trigger on an Xtracycle kit. And, get this, I’ve got the green light to make an appointment with the powder coater to make the whole rig Taxicab Yellow. (I’m trying to track down checkerboard decals, too, let me know if you’ve got a line on ‘em.) It’s going to be beautiful, and hopefully we’ll get it on the road quickly so we can get them out on the trail sooner than later. They’re excited. I’m excited for ‘em.

All this makes it sounds as if I’m done with road miles. Not so! In fact, another transition is in store as we ride into autumn. I had to face the fact that it’s just not the time or place for me to own a kick-ass single-speed mountain bike. I don’t ride singletrack here, as much as I think I’d like to, so the 4one5 has been relegated to the occasional urban assault, which consists mostly of delighting myself with bunny hops off speed bumps and tearing up the neighbors’ lawns. It needs to be on real trails, wearing knobbies, eating dirt. Meanwhile, I’ve developed an itch for a real road bike. Nothing too fancy, mind ya, but something a little more lithe and a little less linebacker than the Cledus. We’ll have to see what happens.

There’s one more big sunny barbecue left before it’s time to get the long sleeves and hoodies out (or, in the case of my San Francisco brethren, to put them back and get ready for things to warm up). And then it’s harvest and costumes and turkeys and reindeer from there on out.

So whatcha got planned for the end of summer?

Here’s some images from the weekend’s bike camping expedition up the C&O Canal Towpath.

It was a great trip. We loaded up both longtails and Clovis with 3 adults, 3 kids, gear, water and food. Then we rode about 7-ish miles through DC, another 16 and change up the path to the campground at Swain’s Lock, stopping at several amazingly beautiful spots on the Potomac along the way.

The campground was great, nestled between a canal lock and the river with a rushing waterfall nearby. There were about 60 Boy Scouts and parents next to us with their tents and bikes, they’d gotten on the trail about 18 miles north and were headed the rest of the way to Georgetown.

There’s much more to be written about the experience, we had a great time, it was a great shake out for our gear and an opportunity to see how the kids would handle a longer ride. But I’m busy. Busy, busy, busy. So for now, grab some popcorn, enjoy the slide show, and I’ll share more impressions when I get a moment to breathe and blog.

Saturday afternoon, Rebbie and the kids and I packed up both longtails and pedaled up the trail to REI, partly to exchange Christmas wool (that didn’t fit) for Christmas wool (that fit), but mostly because it was a gorgeous day in the high 50’s and we were itching to ride.

On the way home, we ran into a woodpile along the trail.

I’ve been using a couple scraps of 6×6 leftover from the deck as blocks to split wood and make kindling, so seeing these on the side of the trail made me wish I could take a nice big block home with us. And then it occurred to me that I could, so I did.

It was too dark out to get a pic of our new chopping block neatly tucked into Nigel’s side bag, but here’s a pic taken after I gave it a test run the next day.

It’s these kinds of random opportunities that frequently remind me how awesome it is to have an Xtracycle. What are Nigel and I gonna do today? Whatever we feel like we wanna do. Gosh!

It’s happened to any number of cyclists around downtown D.C. You’re pedaling along, stayin’ outta trouble, when suddenly a big guy on a mountain bike rolls up, stakes a position ahead of you and starts clicking away.

And you know you’ve been blawged by Gwadzilla. Not only that, but evidently I stand accused of being a Kool-Aid drinker. I can only refute that charge by noting that the life of an Xtracyclist is always intense, and that what I’m sippin’ ain’t some kid’s stuff, but something else of an entirely different, third-eye opening variety. Grip ‘n’ Sip!

Sorry about the helmet mirror, Senor ‘Zilla, but what can I tell ya, I’m a dork. At least Nigel’s lookin’ good, eh?

Man, my kids get this cold, and they keep colliding around the house like a couple hot, happy gas molecules. The only difference is the occasional snot stream and a little more crankiness.

They give it to me, and it just annihilates me. Clearly, this is not how anyone should be spending a beautiful fall day off. Ah well.

In lieu of a post, here’s a short movie clip from my phone. The whole family on two longtails made a trip up to REI on Sunday via the Northwest Branch Trail, the Northeast Branch Trail, and the Paint Branch Trail through College Park. I took some pics as well, but I still need to get those off the camera, so for now enjoy 26 seconds of low-res, in-pursuit video of my wife and daughter on Nigel.

Back to bed for me, quit makin’ all that racket out there.

[Update]: Oo, almost forgot, if you’ve finished reading the internet and you’re lookin’ for some awesome eye candy, and you weren’t actually in Vegas last week, you could hop on over to Xtracycle’s photostream from Interbike 2008. There’s some gorgeous bikes comin’ out this year, commuters and cargo bikes are on the rise, and the events look like a hoot.

[Update Again]: Want some more? Sure ya do. Bike Hugger / Dapper Lad Bicycles has more.

[Update: now with 20% more updatitude!]: You’ve been browsing the Xtracycle photos, and now you’d like some some copy, some narrative, a little text with your feast of images, because you always want more. Well, bygawd, have more!

[Knock knock! Who's There?] [Update!]: And I’d be remiss if I forgot this: check out FatCyclist’s excllent fan’s-eye-view coverage of Interbike: the outdoor expo, star-struck on day one, Greg LeMon– er, ’scuse me, Lance’s Press Conference, fan photos with Fatty, and a touching story of how he learned to stop chasing women on videotapes so aggressively.

That it? Anyone else want to post a gallery?

We took a ride this weekend a short ways up the C&O Canal to Fletcher’s Boathouse. I may write it up later, but there’s a good chance I won’t have time until it’s no longer fresh in my head, so here’s a full-size slideshow. Care for a small teaser? Okidoke, here y’are:

It was a splendid day, we had a great ride through Columbia Heights, Rock Creek Park, the C&O Canal Trail, back through Georgetown, down to the National Mall via the Lincoln and Washington Monuments, and back up to Brookland via 4th St NE for a little over 21 miles of toddler-laden longtail touring.

This would make a spectacular cargobike convoy day tour.

The last few days since Hanna came and went have been cool, overcast, and beautiful. I’ve been dropping Ruby off at school in the mornings and then shooting downtown via my regular southwest slash through the hospitals, Howard University, down to R and through Dupont Circle. It’s a nice ride really, with some lovely neighborhoods, but I get to work feeling like a great part of my day has come to an end sooner than it had to.

Wednesday after work I drove Nigel down to Georgetown after work to hook up with a buddy, and to ride longtails north into Rock Creek Park, then east to hook up with the wife for Hefeweizens in Columbia Heights. The trail going through the park was narrow, frequently creased by roots coming up through the asphalt, and strewn with joggers. It was outstanding, I loved it. So this morning after I dropped Ruby off at school, rather than shooting southeast across the city, I rode the long way.

With the creamy Fat Franks rollin’ steady and chewin’ up pavement, I rumbled west across town on Columbia, turned onto Adams Mill and got pulled into the funnel of streets that empty into Rock Creek Park at the National Zoo. The trail runs through the woods all the way around the zoo, follows Beach Drive until it merges with Rock Creek Parkway, meanders along the parkway past the entrance to the C&O Canal Towpath in Georgetown, and finally follows the Potomac all the way down to the Arlington Memorial Bridge. From there, I turned back towards the Washington Monument, then headed north to Downtown. It was still over much too quickly.

Rebbie and I were talking about New York the other day, and it occurred to me that, given a choice, I wouldn’t be so hasty to jump at Brooklyn today as I would’ve been a year ago. I mean sure, culturally speaking, New York still has the edge over… well anywhere in the U.S. for us. But I have to admit, the more of D.C. I get to know, the more I like it.

What a beautiful morning! What a great ride! My sweet dick, it’s magic! Click on through if you’d like to see just a couple pics I snapped along the way…

(more…)