Bike to Work Day - Close Calls

Bike to Work Day was May 18, followed by our regular Saturday ride on May 19. In the span of those two days, I was reminded once again of my need to be a vigilant and defensive cyclist if I want to keep riding into the years ahead.

My morning ride to work was uneventful. It was the afternoon's return that shook me up. I was riding from the Lynnwood Convention Center to my home near Thrasher's Corner east along 196th in Lynnwood. I was coming fast downhill into an intersection and saw the light ahead was green. I was prepared to cruise through the light, passing on the inside right of a small sedan that also was entering the intersection.

What I completely missed, IF it was there to be seen, was the driver's right turn signal. Just as I came up on her right rear side of her car, she began turning right. I saw that I was going to hit and began shouting--actually it was more of an extended yell--something like, "AHHhHHHhhhhhh Nooooooooooooooo!" I think that scared her far more than the slight bounce she heard as I ricocheted off the corner of her car and turned with her around the corner.

Fortunately--very fortunately--I stayed upright and never hit the pavement. She pulled alongside of me, realizing that I had hit her car, to confirm I was alright. My first word to her were, "Did you have your turn signal on? Did you??" She said she did and I apologized for not seeing it. I assured her I was fine and she drove on, probably as shaken up as me. Mark that one "Close Call #1."

I prayed a prayer of thanks for the angels around me and gingerly passed throught the intersection to head home.

Saturday's Ride:

I'll elaborate more about Saturday's ride in the next blog, but I want to relate two more "close call" incidents that built on my experience Friday.

We were heading south along Bellevue Way near the Mercer Slough and had just crossed the street to ride the sidewalk along the Park and Ride to reach the I-90 trail. At one of the exits to the Park and Ride, a SUV pulled up and looked south at the oncoming traffic. He has in our line as we rode south down the sidewalk. As I rode in front of him to cross the Park and Ride exit, I noticed he was only looking south and hadn't turned his head in our direction--in front and to the north of him. "He's going to pull out and hit us," I thought.

By now, I was right in front of his rig when he moved his head and appeared to begin his turn. Just then he saw me in front of him and realized--I hope--how close he was to crunching a biker under his wheels. I glowered at him as we rode past. Mark that one "Close Call #2."

Later in the morning, our group was at Harbor Island between SoDo and Alki attempting to cross Sw Spokane Street to get on the bike path on the south side of the street. We had pressed the crosswalk button and patiently waited for the street light to turn red and our crosswalk light to give us permission to cross safely. A good full second or two after the street light was red and we had the crossing light in our favor, an 18-wheeler came barrelling down the bridge and flew through the red light. I recall Jim N. saying, "Looks like this guy's not gonna stop." No way could he. And if we had already started across that street, we would have been toast. Or at the very least, our ride would have been rerouted to Harborview ER. Mark that one "Close Call #3."

Suffice it to say, these three instances reminded me how dangerous cycling can be if I'm not completely alert and mindful of where I am and what's around me. As much as I desire to trust drivers to be intelligent, aware, and respectful of my rights, I still realize that I can't. Not yet. And it reminds me, as a driver, to keep my eyes open and "share the road." I hope you'll do the same. I've got a lot of riding still left to do!

Skagit Headwind Classic

On Saturday, May 12, six cyclist set out to Burlington, WA to enjoy a 62-mile venture around Skagit and Whatcom counties in what is known as the Skagit Spring Classic. We, however, have renamed this year's ride the "Skagit Headwind Classic." And with good reason.

The weather, for an early May morning, was surprisingly pleasant. I decided to remove my fenders and throw caution and superstition to the wind... literally, it would turn out. The sun was burning through the clouds and the rain was nowhere near the Skagit flats. Oh, but there was wind.

This year's route was a reverse of 2006, which was a nice change. We set out riding south and a short loop to the east before heading north to Chuckanut Drive. Riding south, we would discover, was the best direction of all with a nasty wind coming from the northwest. But our south and east riding was very short lived and once we turned north, we tucked into a tight paceline, fought for all we were worth, and maintained a 16-18 mph pace that felt like we riding hard enough to push 22 mph. At one point, we wondered what speed we could ride into the wind to stay upright yet perfectly still. Yeah, the wind was brutal.

We found relief once we reached the protective covering of Chuckanut Drive with it's old growth trees lining the cliffs overlooking Bellingham Bay. The sun shining on our first rest stop--with a huge spread of homemade cookies and the usual biker food--made the day look like the worst was behind us. We bombed down the descents of Chuckanut and then turned east to Lake Whatcom. We broke free of the trees and found bright sunshine warming us up.

After crossing I-5 and turning south, we reached our second rest stop at Donovan Park and gave thanks for a southerly heading. After grouping back up, enjoying the spread, and making the necessary visits to the boys' room, we began our return to Burlington. We met our biggest climb of the day as we ascended Bow Hill Road. We were once again riding west and finding that the headwind from the morning was still blowing strong. In fact, it was now a will of the spirit to keep the cranks churning forward with turn to the west or north. We turned at Edison and headed south along Padilla Bay. The views along the water were gorgeous and to add to our pleasure, we were finally riding south with the wind at our back.

The finish line was now in sight and the taste of Elementary kitchen-prepared spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad, was tantalizing our taste buds. Hey, we had just ridden 62 miles with more than a third of it in a nasty headwind... We wanted our darn spaghetti! We were hungry and we earned it! We congratulated each other on a strong effort, chatted about our next ride, agreed that the day was beautiful and the wind was awful, but to steal the old golfer's quote, "The worst day cycling is still better than the best day at the office." Then again, my office sure doesn't have a headwind like today.

Dist: 62.48
Time: 4:11:33
Avg:14.8
Max: 31.7
Riders: Johnny, Bob T, Jim, Bob H., Bryant, Rick

One Bad Hill to Swallow

This was hands-down the hardest EFC Cycling Club Saturday ride ever. And, oddly enough, the best-attended Saturday ride ever. Which just means misery must really love company, because we had plenty of both.

Fourteen of us met at 8 a.m. at Eastside Foursquare Church, ready for what turned out to be a absolutely beautiful day for riding. I had found a new route online called Issaquah Alps that looked challenging and covered some new territory in the Newcastle/Renton area. So after a great devotional by Kristin, and a short prayer, we headed off for a morning of riding under the "late April sun"--admittedly an oxymoron for the Seattle region.

Being a ride leader has it's blessings and it's curses. But, leading a ride from a map that you personally haven't yet explored--that's mostly curses. Fortunately, I only had about three missed turns--only two that my ride group would have noticed with a third that thankfully led to the road I had intended for. With a smaller group, it's easier to lead, but the "friendly criticism" is inversely proportional to the size of the group. Bigger group: more polite. Smaller group: rip into the ride leader! After the first wrong turn, I was glad I was leading a polite group... a rare treasure.

As we began exploring new areas like SE 88th and May Valley Rd. in the Renton/Cougar Mountain area, it became apparent that most of our newcomers to this ride were either younger or stronger than us regulars. Okay, in most cases, they were both. And their ride pace showcased it. We took a loop up the backside of Squak Mountain that probably had some nice views, but I was too busy focusing on keeping my lungs inside. As hard as this little climb was, it was merely a foreshadowing of what was to come.

We took our break at the trailhead to Squak Mountain State Park and were pleased to meet up with some other riders from the International Christian Cycling Club. After a bathroom break, some conversation, and a group photo, we headed north to Issaquah and prepared to meet our toughest match of the day.


They call this "Zoo Hill." Perhaps because it's home to the Cougar Mountain Zoological Park. But, it might also be that this hill reduces you to animal instincts. This is 1100 ft. of elevation climbed in 2.5 miles. (Insert expletive or groan, whine, whimper, or gasp here.) This is one of those climbs that focuses your thoughts--"Why am I doing this?", "What is that terrible gasping sound I hear? Oh. That's me", "Is that the crest of the hill? No... crap. There's more. Much more." But as bad of a hill this was to swallow, when you do finally reach the top, you feel like you've accomplished something important, something noble, something that will cause you to be in considerable pain for the remainder of the week.

However, there is one thing more painful than a hill of this magnitude. It's Kristin's comment at the top... "Hey guys, we should do this climb again this summer!"

Dist: 55.17
Time: 4:00:34
Avg: 13.7
Max: 38.9

Daffodils and Dessert

Some cycling events are all about the ride--you look forward to the scenery, the route, the small towns, or the terrain. And then some cycling events are all about the finish line dessert. The Daffodil Classic was just such a ride.

Today's ride began in Orting, known most recently for a potentially sabotaged city water supply that was deemed safe just days before the ride. For the geographically challenged, Orting is southeast of Puyallup and Sumner and lies in the quiet foothills of Mount Rainier. On a clear day, the views of Rainier from this growing town are breathtaking. On a day like today, the views are best described like this..."Well, Mount Rainier is somewhere around there." So, the clouds and gray skies ruled out that this would be a scenic ride.

The rain came and went and came back again for the first two-thirds of our route. Oh, the route... actually the route was pleasant enough with plenty of rollers, valleys, and winding backroads. However, this ride wouldn't be about the route for two primary reasons.

1) Darn Henrys. If you're a cyclist, you're thinking I just printed a typo. A "Dan Henry" is a symbol painted on the roadway indicating where a cyclist should turn or go straight. A "Darn Henry" (revised slightly for a family audience) is what we got. These were painted in the smallest possible size and painted exactly 6 inches before the turn. This created a riding experience something like this: "We're riding along... riding along... nice horses... nice barn.... TURN RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! NOW!!!!!!!"


2) Chip and Seal: Cobblestone's evil cousin. About 90% of our road surface was chip and seal, which is about one step above gravel. This gave us a perpetual full body massage as we bounced along the teeth-chattering route.



I suppose the ride might be noted for the small towns. Eatonville is a handsome little community. As we passed the Assembly of God church just letting out, it made me wonder what it would be like to pastor in a community where you likely did know everyone who lived there. And I suppose the ride might be memorable for the terrain. Sweeping valley descents, nice long climbs, shady forests, and up-and-down rollers made this ride an occasional thrill. But if it's thrills we're going to talk about, then I have to mention Warren.

Cary, Bryant, Kristin, and I all had a sizable laugh--in fact we were in stitches--at what happened to Warren on this ride. When the sun began peeking through a little hole in the clouds, Warren was really ripping up this ride. Among this crowd of cyclists, he was really sticking out in front. I admire him for his boldness and transparency. He's a bigger man than me!


So, while this ride wasn't about the scenery, the route, the small towns, or the terrain, it was certainly about the friendship (and getting to know some friends better in a most unexpected way), but it was all about the dessert. At the conclusion of our 62 miles, was a well-earned strawberry spongecake dessert that went from my dish to my tummy almost as fast as Bryant descended that last hill.

Yes, this ride was all about the dessert--not the best dessert ever, nor even the best dessert this week, but it was a well-deserved dessert and well-earned dessert and sometimes that's what a ride is all about.

Dist: 62.93
Time: 4:11:37
Avg: 14.9
Max: 37.1

The Eastside Office

This is a bit of an "off-topic" post, but for those of you who enjoy The Office on NBC and know a few of our Eastside Foursquare Church staff, you might be entertained by our in-house version of the show... "The Eastside Office." The episode comes in two parts, so be sure to watch Part Two upon the conclusion. Enjoy.



And here is PART TWO...

Following the Red Brick Road

This weekend's ride began at Eastside Foursquare Church amid gray skies, but relatively little precipitation. Johnny D. and Bob T. showed up for the departure as we dropped down to the Sammamish River Trail. We dodged a plethora of "Team in Training" runners as we headed to 124th and climbed over the hill to Avondale and continued east toward W. Snoqualmie Valley Rd.

Before we made the turn north to Old Woodinville-Duvall Rd., Bob T. had determined in his heart one of two things: 1) he knew exactly where he was going 2) he had no idea where he was going, but he was in front and was making great time. We made the turn without him, left him a voicemail with his correct route, and then reminded him when we saw him again: "If you think you're a leader, look behind you. If there's no one following you, you're just taking a walk!"



Jay B. joined us as we turned south along W. Snoq. Valley Rd. toward Redmond. The weather was improving and this was my first time this year riding out near the Duvall/Carnation valley. Lush green pastures and old, rustic barns makes this area one of my favorites for late spring and early summer rides. I'll be back out here again.



After climbing up Ames Lake-Carnation Rd. and dropping onto Rt. 202, we picked up our pace toward the featured stretch of road for this route: The Red Brick Road. This historical road contains the longest stretch of exposed historic red brick highway in King County.


As the sun made its appearance and we experienced the bone-jarring vibrations of the bricks beneath us, I explained my reason for choosing this route. Sunday marks the return of the Paris-Roubaix spring classic road race over the muddy cobbled roads of France. This was our meager way to experience what more than a hundred professional cyclists will endure as they ride over 21 sections of "pave"--cobblestones--in typically horrible early spring weather. If the road conditions and teeth-rattling pave don't take you out, then one of the frequent crashes will.



As we concluded our ride upon red brick, I was pleased to hear from my companions that not only had they never ridden that stretch before, they had no idea it was there. I suppose next to the ride itself, what I enjoy most is sharing a new experience, landmark, or route with my fellow riders. We may not be in Paris, but some days it's easy to imagine.

What are your favorite little-known routes you've shared with others?


Dist: 45.14
Time: 3:10:15
Avg: 14.2
Max: 36.3

Mercer Island: Clockwise or Counter-Clockwise?

This past weekend's ride through Bellevue, across I-90, and then around Mercer Island elicited a rather interesting question. "Do you ride around Mercer Island in a CLOCKWISE direction or COUNTER-CLOCKWISE direction?"

After some brief conversation, we chose to ride clockwise. But during our ride, a few of us explored the philosophical implications of clockwise or counter-clockwise riding.

This was the Saturday morning before Easter. In Pastor Jim Hayford's previous evening's Good Friday message, he included a reference to a quote by an old cowboy, "I've seen plenty of people die and they die pretty much the same way they lived." Pastor Jim elaborated on the quote that people can die afraid, alone, angry, or confident, peaceful, expectant. For those of us in Christ, we die confident, peaceful, and expectant.

This made a few of us apply this same line of thinking toward cycling. You pretty much RIDE the same way you LIVE. Do you live clockwise or counter-clockwise?


For those who ride counter-clockwise, perhaps they are contrarian, rebellious individuals who like to fly in the face of societal norms and accepted rules of behavior. Perhaps they have some deep-seated, repressed emotions that are desperately seeking release and are played out in a "against-the-flow" bicycle ride. Additionally, on Mercer Island, the counter-clockwise direction is largely downhill. These counter-clockwise riders look for the easy way out. They are softies seeking comfort and leisure.

On the flip side (literally), those who ride clockwise, are rational, well-behaved, law-abiding and responsible citizens. These are the kind of people you smile at when they ride by. They don't mind a challenge and would gladly ride uphill, grinning all the way. They are the kind of people you'd introduce your sister to, or maybe your mother, and invite over for a slice of Boston cream pie.


So what kind of rider are you? Whether it's a ride around Mercer Island or the ride of Life, are you a respectable clockwise rider or a trouble-making, rebellious counter-clockwise rider?

(For the record, myself, Jim N., John B., Cary B., are all clockwise riders. We suspect Warren L. is a counter-clockwise rider.)

Dist: 40.22
Time: 2:59:29
Avg: 13.4
Max: 35.0