Happy cycle-versary to me

A year plus a few days ago, I took the plunge into bike commuting. Back then, I didn't know whether I'd love it or loathe it, but I was cautiously optimistic.

It took me less than a month to cancel my work parking pass. And though I kept waiting for winter to discourage me into reactivating it, I'm still sitting here, parking-pass-free.

The way Cory feels about commuting by bike seems to sum up my feelings, too: I don't always leave the apartment/work excited about riding, but every time I arrive at my destination, I'm glad I did it.

That even holds true in the winter, shockingly. (Of course, I'd feel differently if I didn't live with a bike guru who got me in good shape, equipment-wise, for snow riding.)

I am definitely not as committed to it as many other riders are. I can fairly easily find an excuse to drive to the grocery store that's only half a mile away from the apartment.

If I cheat on my bike often enough, though, I remember why I prefer it — I hate paying for parking, especially now that I got out of the habit of doing it, and I dread parallel parking.

(So don't think I have some higher moral reasons for biking, or that I'm self-righteous about it. It's laziness in a different form.)

And I also start to feel guilty about driving if I do it too much now. I'm an abstainer, not a moderator, so I tend to expect 100 percent commitment from myself.

Sometimes when I wish I'd burned calories and not fuel/money, I have to remind myself that more often than not, I take advantage of the fact that bike commuting *is* practical for me. (Again, I don't want to sound like a bike evangelical — not everyone is in the right position to do it. No judgment here.)

I guess the takeaway from this particular post is that if I meet up with you and I have helmet hair or give off a faint odor of perspiration, you'd better either deal with it or make excuses not to hang out. The Shrimp isn't getting put away anytime soon.

Holy smokes, RAGBRAI is close

Good thing I embraced Bike Month, because RAGBRAI is basically almost here.

Of course I exaggerate — slightly. But I did just download the training plan and do a double-take at how few weeks remain on it.

I do have a couple long rides under my belt and more of the medium-length rides that the plan incorporates. The longest of those even involved heat, humidity and a few hills.

So I think it's fair to assume I at least managed to develop a base before the real training.

One good development: the fact that a team member spoke ominously about the hilliness of this year's route, causing me to panic every time I had to work hard going uphill.

How is that good? It means that I've at least vowed to hit the horrific Neal Smith Trail hill once a week, and that when my options for traveling by bike are short-and-hilly or twice-as-long-but-flat, I feel obliged to pick the former.

Another good development: Training for Dam to Dam kept me from burning myself out on biking. (Granted, the fact that I did both meant I felt like I mastered neither, but that's another story.)

I remember last year, when I dutifully followed the weeklong rider plan for four days of RAGBRAI, I found myself tiring of riding.

I have no intention of ramping up the training plan to "make up" for the lost month, so I should be much mentally fresher this time around.

How runners do Iowa Nice

Yesterday I rode my bike to fetch my car from the mechanic's. It was a minor victory that turned into a major victory.

There were actually two minor — and I mean minor — wins:

1.) I decided to leave in the morning, when there were scattered light showers, instead of waiting for 1:15 p.m., when Weather.com told me the showers would end. It turns out that I am still not made of sugar, because I did not melt.

2.) Rather than tack on extra miles to avoid a hill, I took the more direct route and made it all the way to the top without stopping. Not without swearing, but without stopping.

Because my ride was cool and slightly rainy, I was rocking my fluorescent Des Moines Half Marathon zip-up jacket that morning.

When I returned home and parked, my neon top caught the eye of a repair guy who'd parked near me: "Hey, I have that same shirt! Did you run it, too?" he called to me.

And so, in what seems to be very typical Iowa fashion, we embarked on a five-minute conversation about local half marathons and our successes/failures in training for them.

I told him I'd run it last year but was on the fence about doing it this fall; that depended somewhat on how Dam to Dam went.

"Oh, I'm doing Dam to Dam too! The funny thing is, me and my wife, we're really just not looking forward to it. Not sure why. Maybe that horrible winter just got us down."

There's something so magical about when an outsider expresses the exact negative, possibly unpopular view you've been nursing for a few weeks.

I told him I could empathize, 100 percent, with him. He was relieved to hear he wasn't just being a big baby — another emotion I shared.

It was one of the most cheerful whine-fests I've had in a long time, and certainly a rare occasion on which I appreciated a strange man commenting on my clothes.

I may hate how the past few springs here have turned out, but I sure do love Iowa and Iowa Nice.

Race (?) report: Girls on the Run 5K

I experienced two personal firsts at the Girls on the Run 5K last Friday.

First, obviously, it was my inaugural time helping out with the program, and it is every bit as impressive —maybe even more impressive — than one might expect.

The party was in full swing when I arrived at Raccoon River Park: a DJ blasting tunes (appropriately, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"); face painting and glitter hairspray; and coordinated funky headbands and tall socks, at least in "my" school's case.

There were school and running chants, and the head coach of my friend's team ran a warmup drill of jumping jacks, tae bo moves, stars and clapping — and as silly as I'm sure I looked, I thought it was hilarious.

With all this and the lovely weather, it would've been hard not to catch the spirit of the event.

Enthusiasm during the actual run seemed fairly high, too. Of course there were a few strugglers, but their buddies and the spectators didn't let them sulk or fall behind too much.

It really was cool to see not just the girls' accomplishments, but also the amount of time and energy that the adults put into getting them there. Warm and fuzzy feelings all around!

Second, less obviously, it was my first brick. I toyed with the idea of driving to Raccoon River, either from work or from my apartment after I'd biked back from work, don't get me wrong.

The spirit of Bike Month ultimately won out — plus the realization that it really wouldn't take that much longer to bike versus drive, with the time spent getting to the garage and dealing with rush-hour traffic.

It wasn't really a brick, in the truest sense of the term, because at least a half-hour lapsed between my arrival and the start of the run. And the run was definitely an easy shuffle.

But hey, if the book club members were impressed that I rode eight miles to a 5K, then hopped back on to get to dinner, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back. I did end up feeling it the next day, I think, so it counts as far as I'm concerned