Recently I was riding through Beaverdale in the middle of the day, and oddly enough, I was neither the only non-automobile on the road, nor the most unusual-looking user of the road.
First I came up behind two women in motorized scooters — on the road, not the sidewalk. I've seen how uneven, narrow and noncontinuous sidewalks can be, though, so I'm not judging.
It was kind of funny, in a way, to see how they took control of that lane. They were side by side, not in a line, for what I assumed was greater visibility to drivers.
Closer to home, I turned a corner to find myself behind a tricked-out golf cart zooming along a side street. Evidently that's how florists now deliver.
But hey, if I had the chance to do my job in pleasant springtime weather instead of in an enclosed space, I'd jump at that chance, too.
Cheers to my fellow travelers using means other than the automobile.
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Friday, April 17, 2015
Friday, May 23, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, January 17, 2014
A first for Little Runner: Running errands
During this past Holiday Running Streak, I did consider combining small, nearby errands with my workouts.
But unlike Run, Karla, Run!, I never actually did it. I forget why. I'm sure the reasons weren't very convincing (though in my defense, I have done errands by bike instead of by car).
I broke that particular streak this week, however, and I think I may have found the perfect motivating factor: laziness/incompetence.
Let me explain. I'm well aware that often, it's easier not to drive because of parking and traffic, and when it comes to downtown events after work on Fridays, I wholeheartedly support hoofing it. And while I haven't made a habit of it, I have willingly done a few errands on two wheels instead of four.
But returning a library book midday on a Wednesday, when you literally will pass by the library on your commute to work? It was tempting to find an easier route — coming back from downtown is slightly uphill and into the 9 mph wind (imagine a baby crying) — and just head to work a few minutes early.
And then I thought about parallel parking, which I never learned in high school and never attempted by myself until I moved to Des Moines in May 2012; and parking meters, which no one likes, but which especially annoy people accustomed to living in second-rate cities that don't dare discourage shoppers by charging for parking.
Oh, and don't forget how, if you park with the driver's side next to the curb, which I find easier, you have to climb over the frozen snow to get to the meter and sidewalk.
That settled it. I may be the world's biggest baby, given all the minor inconveniences I just listed, but I can carry a single, pathetic paperback book for less than two miles as I glide downhill, the wind at my back, while deliberately running slowly because it's base-rebuilding time.
Fashionistas would likely be horrified to hear that not only did I do it and survive, but that I also realized there's no reason I can't actually pick up a book or a few small groceries while doing more errand runs.
There will be spandex and a light sweat. But hey, even though Des Moines is cool enough to make people pay for parking, it's not so cool that it can't handle my midrun rosy cheeks and messy hair once in a while.
But unlike Run, Karla, Run!, I never actually did it. I forget why. I'm sure the reasons weren't very convincing (though in my defense, I have done errands by bike instead of by car).
I broke that particular streak this week, however, and I think I may have found the perfect motivating factor: laziness/incompetence.
Let me explain. I'm well aware that often, it's easier not to drive because of parking and traffic, and when it comes to downtown events after work on Fridays, I wholeheartedly support hoofing it. And while I haven't made a habit of it, I have willingly done a few errands on two wheels instead of four.
But returning a library book midday on a Wednesday, when you literally will pass by the library on your commute to work? It was tempting to find an easier route — coming back from downtown is slightly uphill and into the 9 mph wind (imagine a baby crying) — and just head to work a few minutes early.
And then I thought about parallel parking, which I never learned in high school and never attempted by myself until I moved to Des Moines in May 2012; and parking meters, which no one likes, but which especially annoy people accustomed to living in second-rate cities that don't dare discourage shoppers by charging for parking.
Oh, and don't forget how, if you park with the driver's side next to the curb, which I find easier, you have to climb over the frozen snow to get to the meter and sidewalk.
That settled it. I may be the world's biggest baby, given all the minor inconveniences I just listed, but I can carry a single, pathetic paperback book for less than two miles as I glide downhill, the wind at my back, while deliberately running slowly because it's base-rebuilding time.
Fashionistas would likely be horrified to hear that not only did I do it and survive, but that I also realized there's no reason I can't actually pick up a book or a few small groceries while doing more errand runs.
There will be spandex and a light sweat. But hey, even though Des Moines is cool enough to make people pay for parking, it's not so cool that it can't handle my midrun rosy cheeks and messy hair once in a while.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Thanks to these folks, I'm off and riding
A friend once observed that bikers are among the friendliest folks she's met, and so far I'd agree with her assessment.
To underscore that point, on the day I head off for RAGBRAI, I wanted to thank a few people who have been huge helps while I trained and packed for my culinary tour.
David, a now-former co-worker, surprised me last Thursday with the offer to lend me a few cycling jerseys. They're size small, so they do actually fit me reasonably well. Looks like I might finally defeat my farmers tan!
Jeniece — a friend, bike companion and co-worker at each of my post-college jobs — rustled up a cheap water bottle to put in my extra water-bottle cage (as did Ken, another friend and two-time co-worker).
She also saved my backpack-losing butt by lending me a bag that could hold my goods AND still fit on my back.
Cory, my bike doctor, provided the extra bike pouch and water-bottle cage, a bike tune-up (for the price of baked goods, even), road beers, and past and future sunscreen use.
He also instructed me on how to fix a flat and was among those assuring us bike n00bs that he could fix us up if we have mishaps on the road.
Oh, and he also coordinated a huge email chain to figure out transportation among a group of probably 10 people living in several different cities and doing varying portions of RAGBRAI. Which leads me to ...
Joe, Michelle and Mike became my carpool buddies. In exchange for me getting Joe and Michelle to Perry, Mike is getting me (and the others) from Fort Madison to Des Moines. I'd only previously met Joe, and then it was only once, which makes the help from the group that much more awesome.
Ashlee, my fellow Bulldog, volunteered to drive me to Water Works Park early Wednesday, the day after she herself got up early to kick off the carpool to Perry so she and another friend could do Tuesday's ride.
Bonus points for doing it when she'd taken the morning off work specifically to recover from RAGBRAI. I feel guilty about this, but not so guilty that I will refuse the offer.
Ken's taking care of my cat while I'm gone. That's a short sentence, but if you know me at all, you know that's a HUGE load off my mind. He and a friend also were willing to fetch my car if I drove myself to the start and bring it back to safety.
He's not even a biker, though he does support vacations that offer fine dining and parties.
Emily and Regina, besides being relative n00bs like me (comforting, given the number of veterans I'm going with, are willing to share some of the amenities they're getting for covering RAGBRAI for the Register.
Zach talked so favorably about his 2012 experience and so enthusiastically about this year that I drank the Kool-Aid. He also shared a great deal of his crew from last year, fun and knowledgeable folks like Cory, Derek, Chris and Matt.
Perhaps most importantly, he advised me on what tools/gear to buy, and that advice was: not very much. Sure thing, bike veteran!
And finally, I just want to say that if my family members think this is a very foolish idea, they've done an excellent job of disguising it under excitement for me. God knows I don't need more fodder for worrying.
I'll report back on my sunburns, my favorite foods and potentially my weight gain in a few days!
To underscore that point, on the day I head off for RAGBRAI, I wanted to thank a few people who have been huge helps while I trained and packed for my culinary tour.
David, a now-former co-worker, surprised me last Thursday with the offer to lend me a few cycling jerseys. They're size small, so they do actually fit me reasonably well. Looks like I might finally defeat my farmers tan!
Jeniece — a friend, bike companion and co-worker at each of my post-college jobs — rustled up a cheap water bottle to put in my extra water-bottle cage (as did Ken, another friend and two-time co-worker).
She also saved my backpack-losing butt by lending me a bag that could hold my goods AND still fit on my back.
Cory, my bike doctor, provided the extra bike pouch and water-bottle cage, a bike tune-up (for the price of baked goods, even), road beers, and past and future sunscreen use.
He also instructed me on how to fix a flat and was among those assuring us bike n00bs that he could fix us up if we have mishaps on the road.
Oh, and he also coordinated a huge email chain to figure out transportation among a group of probably 10 people living in several different cities and doing varying portions of RAGBRAI. Which leads me to ...
Joe, Michelle and Mike became my carpool buddies. In exchange for me getting Joe and Michelle to Perry, Mike is getting me (and the others) from Fort Madison to Des Moines. I'd only previously met Joe, and then it was only once, which makes the help from the group that much more awesome.
Ashlee, my fellow Bulldog, volunteered to drive me to Water Works Park early Wednesday, the day after she herself got up early to kick off the carpool to Perry so she and another friend could do Tuesday's ride.
Bonus points for doing it when she'd taken the morning off work specifically to recover from RAGBRAI. I feel guilty about this, but not so guilty that I will refuse the offer.
Ken's taking care of my cat while I'm gone. That's a short sentence, but if you know me at all, you know that's a HUGE load off my mind. He and a friend also were willing to fetch my car if I drove myself to the start and bring it back to safety.
He's not even a biker, though he does support vacations that offer fine dining and parties.
Emily and Regina, besides being relative n00bs like me (comforting, given the number of veterans I'm going with, are willing to share some of the amenities they're getting for covering RAGBRAI for the Register.
Zach talked so favorably about his 2012 experience and so enthusiastically about this year that I drank the Kool-Aid. He also shared a great deal of his crew from last year, fun and knowledgeable folks like Cory, Derek, Chris and Matt.
Perhaps most importantly, he advised me on what tools/gear to buy, and that advice was: not very much. Sure thing, bike veteran!
And finally, I just want to say that if my family members think this is a very foolish idea, they've done an excellent job of disguising it under excitement for me. God knows I don't need more fodder for worrying.
I'll report back on my sunburns, my favorite foods and potentially my weight gain in a few days!
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Seen while riding: Critters and cranky kids
I didn't stop to take photos on my Monday long ride, but I did see a few things that made me smile (or in, one case, jump a little bit).
* Right as I reached Linden on the way out, a deer raced across the path. I will insist with my dying breath that I'm not one of those obnoxious city kids who think deer are novelties, but I'm not used to seeing them in human settlements ... just country fields.
* I encountered another Bambi just north of Linden as I doubled back; this one, I apparently flushed out, and instead of hiding in the woods, it bounded along the trail ahead of me for about a minute.
It was the best chance I've had to admire their leaping abilities — I'm used to them dashing out across dark country roads at night and having to worry about hitting them/being hit by any cars behind me.
* A duo that I will call a grandmother/granddaughter pair, though I have no such evidence, stopped me north of Linden. (That's where ALL the action was yesterday, apparently.) "How far are we from Linden?" the grandmother asked.
"Not far," I said.
"Less than a mile?" I hesitated so that I could think back to my odometer's reading, and the grandmother continued. "Just say yes."
By then, I'd gathered my thoughts and told them I really did think they were that close, and the grandmother turned to the little girl (maybe 6 years old?). "See? You can make it that far."
She turned back to me. "We walked here from Panora. Her idea." The look on the girl's face indicated that she didn't think this was such a great idea any more.
According to a sign I'd passed after leaving Linden, that was six miles away. Holy cow. I hope they indulged in ice cream and a nap after that hike.
* And my favorite sight: a cow just standing in a creek, the bridge over which wasn't all that high. After squealing with delight, I glanced past my bovine buddy to see a whole herd of them, just hanging out, not even fenced in.
I don't care how dumb, smelly and/or bug-ridden cows are. I'm 100 percent city girl in that I think they're adorable, and I highly appreciate their contributions to the human diet. (Mmm, cheese ... ice cream ... milk ... cream ... yogurt ... butter ... and, yes, steak.)
* Right as I reached Linden on the way out, a deer raced across the path. I will insist with my dying breath that I'm not one of those obnoxious city kids who think deer are novelties, but I'm not used to seeing them in human settlements ... just country fields.
* I encountered another Bambi just north of Linden as I doubled back; this one, I apparently flushed out, and instead of hiding in the woods, it bounded along the trail ahead of me for about a minute.
* Two maintenance trucks were on the trails; the first one arrived as I was daydreaming, and therefore its oncoming headlights scared the crap out of me. Also, when you're on such a rural, wooded trail, seeing another biker surprises you — let alone a pickup truck.
It was the best chance I've had to admire their leaping abilities — I'm used to them dashing out across dark country roads at night and having to worry about hitting them/being hit by any cars behind me.
* A duo that I will call a grandmother/granddaughter pair, though I have no such evidence, stopped me north of Linden. (That's where ALL the action was yesterday, apparently.) "How far are we from Linden?" the grandmother asked.
"Not far," I said.
"Less than a mile?" I hesitated so that I could think back to my odometer's reading, and the grandmother continued. "Just say yes."
By then, I'd gathered my thoughts and told them I really did think they were that close, and the grandmother turned to the little girl (maybe 6 years old?). "See? You can make it that far."
She turned back to me. "We walked here from Panora. Her idea." The look on the girl's face indicated that she didn't think this was such a great idea any more.
According to a sign I'd passed after leaving Linden, that was six miles away. Holy cow. I hope they indulged in ice cream and a nap after that hike.
* And my favorite sight: a cow just standing in a creek, the bridge over which wasn't all that high. After squealing with delight, I glanced past my bovine buddy to see a whole herd of them, just hanging out, not even fenced in.
I don't care how dumb, smelly and/or bug-ridden cows are. I'm 100 percent city girl in that I think they're adorable, and I highly appreciate their contributions to the human diet. (Mmm, cheese ... ice cream ... milk ... cream ... yogurt ... butter ... and, yes, steak.)
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Seen while running: Week of July 15
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| Someone's driveway decorations. My hometown isn't close to many big-name football universities. The college I attended? Let's just say that the few fans at games liked to taunt the opposition by yelling our ACT scores, not the football score. The passion for the Hawkeye-Cyclone rivalry is a fascinating and confusing thing for me to observe. |
Seen, but not photographed: in the neighborhood south of my apartment complex, a car in a driveway with its backseat doors open.
When the smell of an Abercrombie & Fitch fought its way through the thick humidity and to my nose, I realized that the figures in the back of the car were likely teens trying to make out. Sorry for staring (or, as I wasn't wearing contacts, for squinting intently).
 |
| Another image that reminds me of home — Rock Valley College is our community college. |
 |
| A poorly lit picture of drought. For comparison, see what Walnut Creek looked like before July 1 here. |
Seen, but not heard: at dusk along the heavily wooded, winding Clive Greenbelt path, a biker who whizzed past and scared the crap out of me. The squeak of his bike reached me just as he did, without a single "on your left."
My high-pitched, breathless "oh gosh!" and melodramatic, yet involuntary, hand to my throat did not teach him anything, apparently. When I came upon walkers a few minutes later, I asked them whether they'd seen and/or heard the biker; one told me that she had to yell at him for his silent approach.
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| My foot, after a 6-foot-tall man wearing heavy boots stepped on my ballerina flat-clad foot. Note the bruise on the bunion joint. This, fortunately, did not impede my running. |
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