In Which I Ride Well to Ring Some Bells

My bells, not solo bells, the usual bass G and A, reflect the skylight of the dining hall at Hallmar on March 16.

Sunday dawned cold and white. A dusting of snow, looking like the layer of powdered sugar on a doughnut, spread across the lawn.

But not the streets or sidewalks. Although it was cold, well below freezing, the strong mid-March sun has been beating down on the pavement for the past few days, and apparently warmed it enough so that a dusting of snow would not stick. It was too cold for it to simply melt, to the snow did what a thin layer of water sometimes does in the winter cold—it dissipated into the desiccated air.

I had a hand bell concert at a nursing home Sunday afternoon. The sun shone all morning, and although the temperature remained in the 20s, the magic of that March sun slowly nibbled away at the powdered sugar layer.

By the time it was time for me to decide to drive or ride, I was clearly going to ride. And I rode with only my light gloves and no long johns—it was about 6 miles to the nursing home, located in Mercy Medical Center near downtown. When I got there, I felt cool, but not uncomfortably cold.

Winter rides are slowly giving way to spring rides.

I must have been a bit nervous about the concert. I was to play a solo that has not gone that well in practice. Anyway, I averaged about 12 mph and got to the hospital in about 30 minutes.

That is the same times as my usual in-town commute to the MMU campus from my home, a distance that I charitably call 5 miles on my blog banner, but which is closer to 4. A speed of 12 mph doesn’t sound like much, but recall that is my average, including time at stop signs and lights and up hills—I am sure my cruising speed had to be over 15 mph. For me, that’s flying.

The concert went well. Maybe it was the extra blood pumping to my brain after that zippy bike commute. Maybe I had just messed up the solo enough in practice that there wasn’t any new way to do it wrong.

Anyway, the ride there and back was a bit chilly, but March had returned to its normal brown state, the spring snow mostly in small shady patches while the world had again turned brown where the sun was shining.

It was around 18 this Monday morning as I again rode. Again, cool—in fact, there was a brisker wind so it felt much colder. But I think that March sun still had power to warm me just enough.

Here’s to the arrival of the spring sun. Now, it if could just bring some spring warmth and spring flowers …

In Which "Bikeyface" Puts it Well

Another good post today from Boston’s leading biker-illustrator, Bikeyface.

She writes about how our structure of roads is very car centric, and, while it’s generally a good idea to obey rules of the road when you’re on a bicycle, self-preservation trumps the rules. A bicycle rider, on a small metal thing, has to avoid the Big Metal Things.

For example, I ride on the sidewalk on C Avenue for the first 4-blocks or so of my ride. I shouldn’t—the sidewalk is for pedestrians, the street for vehicles, including bikes—but the volume of traffic and the 35 mph speed limit on C Avenue prompts me to stick to the sidewalk.

I am aware that I’m encroaching on foot traffic turf, and try to respect that pedestrians are the ones who have the right of way here. But I’m not going to do much riding on C Avenue itself because I love life too much.

In Which The Moon Shines At Dusk

Dry Creek at dusk. The light is pretty low, so I had to rest the camera on the rail of the C Avenue bridge. It looked darker to the eye than this photo captures.

When I was young, dusk, especially in summer, was my favorite time of day. The world turning slowly cooler and mysterious, the sky in darkening shades of blue until finally fading to black. It somehow was the time when play was most random and fun, when my sisters and I would have a “caucus race” around the VW micro-bus.

And so the time change has enhanced my rides. I teach until 6:50 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Because I have an exam tonight, I got out just a few minutes early and rode the trail route home, just as dusk was descending.

Moon in the darkening sky--another image on the C Avenue bridge.

It was the first official “spring” ride—no winter jacket required, no gloves, just a sweater. The morning ride was still winter cold, the afternoon ride was spring warm.

At the magic hour of dusk. I rode with lights on, but it was still fairly light out. The sun was just touching the horizon as I left campus, and the sky steadily became darker. The moon is not yet full, but was large enough to lend some light as the sun faded.

I can’t describe how it feels. A ride in twilight is somehow more peaceful, even with other bikers and walkers and traffic around. The worlds just seems fresher and quieter and cool. The day closes down, and whatever stress it brought is ebbing.

I rode fairly quickly, I think, and didn’t take the full trail route, but instead cut through the middle school near Noelridge Park. And I arrived home with a twilight smile.

Looking west at sky just past sunset.

In Which The Big Melt Begins

Bike rack at Warde Hall, Mount Mercy University. This is a shady spot on warm afternoons and the snow is several feet deep. When it's gone, we will know spring is really taking hold!

It was a  wet, messy ride this morning—a wonderful, wet, messy, sunny, warm ride. I got an e-mail from a student saying she had run out of gas and could not make it to class. I replied that I had eaten Corn Chex, and so was having no fuel shortage for my ride.

There is so much snow piled on the world here that one night when the low doesn’t dip below freezing doesn’t get rid of it all. It was nice yesterday, and it is downright gorgeous today, which makes a day of school that much more tragic.

If we can have snow days, how about an emergency spring day? It’s the first warm day of the new season, so it’s too nice to have class? Please? Nope, sorry, I can’t get there because I must ride bike, ride far, splash and roll and enjoy the day.

Sigh. Not so much. Still, even if it was dark following the implementation of Daylight Savings Time, and even if it will be darkening by the time I head home, I take this day as a token, a sign of many more nice days to come.

Knock on wood.

It will snow tomorrow, but not stay so cold this week that the snow that falls will stick around long. Spring is in the air here in frozen Iowa. I took a walk with my wife yesterday, and a man who lives in our neighborhood and who commutes by bike in warmer months was just getting his steed out of the garage, chain oiled, tires pumped, ready for a new riding year.

Me, I have already put 120 miles on Francis this year before this morning. But there will be more 50-degree days and sunshine and warmer and biking and lots more miles than 120!

Bikeyface had a cute blog post about how bike racks aren’t usually available in winter. I solve that at MMU by parking inside, and it will be some time before the snow melts away from the bike rack at my building. Still, I don’t really expect bike racks to be a priority for snow removal. It’s just nice that we’re finally at that point where Mother Nature may lend a snow removal hand.

That’s when spring will officially be here—when the bike rack is free of snow. May it be soon.

In Which Spring Comes As Team Joe Grows

Ice on my driveway is divided by streamlet of melting.

Friday afternoon on the way home--crossing Dry Creek on C Avenue. It's been iced over, a walkway for deer, and now the deer will have either dip their hooves or find a new route. Water! Spring!

Well, our merry band is up to five. A sister-in-law on my wife’s side from Florida will be riding the whole week of RAGBRAI on Team Joe.

And, the weather is finally taking a turn for the seasonal. There is still a snow pack over most of the ground, it’s below freezing at night—but the March sun has been aided by slightly warmer afternoon temperatures, and we are seeing some melt.

March 6, squirrel on Mount Mercy University campus. Receding snow.

That made biking on Thursday and Friday a bit dicey. The ride Thursday night was a bit tense because I have a late afternoon class and can’t leave until 7 or so. By then, it had been dark for an hour and what had been wet on the streets was starting to freeze.

Still, although I definitely rode over lots of ice, no spills.

This morning, it felt like spring. There was a warm sun shining, even if the air was still in the 20s. I didn’t even put my hood up at first, but when I went around the first corner and faced into a stiff southern wind, that changed pretty quickly. Still, I wore my light gloves and only one pair of socks.

The afternoon ride, in which I took the longer trail route, was wet. Today was a cloudy day of thawing, with more melting weather coming this weekend.

It will cool off again next week, but there aren't the bitter cold temperatures in the forecast that we had to start March. And this weekend we turn our clocks forward—it won’t be full dark at 7 anymore when I have to bike home.

That will be nice. In fact, I’m pretty confident that overall, things are getting nicer for biking weather in this cold corner of the globe. It’s not over yet—we sure could still see some early spring snows—but winter is waning, and aren't we grateful.

Coneflower seed head in side garden. I'll have to cut it off and toss it behind the fence in hopes of starting some coneflowers there.

In Which 100 Miles Must Be Enough Because I Did It

What did I do? Registered for the Des Moines Register’s RAGBRAI, that is. Team “CR Joe” rides again! I’m the last of the cohort from last year to register, which seems fitting, somehow. As a biker, and a team leader, I like to lead from behind.

I’m not all done—I have not paid RAGBRAI yet, and am waiting to see if anybody joins our merry band before I “close” the group and submit my credit card number. But, the Rubicon has been crossed and the Missouri and Mississippi will be touch by tires, at least in spirit (I usually do the end dip but haven't ever bothered with the start dip).

And this registration date comes as, so far this year, I have ridden 100 miles. There must be some symbolism there—ride 100 miles in an Iowa winter and it’s clear you’re crazy enough for RAGBRAI. Something like that.

We are in! The group numbered 42220, which means it starts with the answer to life, the universe and everything if only we knew the question, exists again in 2014. If you want to join, we would consider you. Contact me, y'all. I'm planning to pay by the start of spring break, which is the last week of March, so about two weeks left to join my team, and RAGBRAI week-long riders have to be "in" on the RAGBRAI site by April 1 even if they aren't in enough to be in team CR Joe.

In Which We Focus On Bicycles and Spring and Love

It’s March 1, and snow is falling. Subzero temperatures are forecast in Iowa this week. The biking omens are not what one could call entirely positive, but then again it is March 1.

It may be delayed by freaky ocean currents and the polar vortex, but spring is waiting out there. To tide us over, a few random bicycle love stories.

First of all the trailer to a movie I have not seen. But I like the opening credits.



Secondly, just because it mentions both love and bicycles, a song that counts the bicycle in Beijing:



Finally, maybe a woman who exaggerates love of bike just a bit. I like Francis, but even in Iowa I wouldn't go that far:



Good luck, kid, but don't expect any money from me. As for the rest of you, stay warm, love your bicycle, but don’t marry it. And soon we’ll all by cycling in the sun again.