hump de bump

I have 1.5 Boston winters under my commuting belt [I got my Bianchi in January 2008].
It doesn't make me any more hardcore, or special, than any other cyclist. But it's something I'm secretly proud of. It's also the reason I think Bicycle Commuter Appreciation Day should be in the middle of February, not in May. When your eyes and nose start to gush water as soon as you climb on a bike because of the cold, and the air's so dense you can't manage even a moderate pace without a struggle, well, that's when you should be appreciated.
But open houses, contests, and block parties are a different story. You need warm weather, good people, and a solid shop. And that's exactly what my other, other home - Cambridge Bikes - provided last night. Even food was involved.

Arriving a little late [as usual] and slightly completely confused, I stopped by a tent, bumped into RMM, and got suckered into entering my track baby into the Commuter Bicycle contest [believe it or not, I actually have commuted to school on my little pony]. There were a whole bunch of different categories, and tons and tons of bicycles. No way I was going to win anything, but hey, I got to park my bike next to a Vanilla, and that's a reward in itself.
Bouncing between the shop and the party outside, I spotted some distinctive white and black kits and shaven legs. And tricycles. I couldn't miss this.

The camera came out and I was laughing hysterically as some of CB's finest raced tricycles in kits and cleats. It seemed addictive, as more and more people signed up to spin around the makeshift course three times. I nearly got seated on one of those things, but used the excuse that I'll have an unfair advantage over everyone because those tricycles would probably fit me.
Slipping inside, "what's up"s and high fives were exchanged, despite the packed shop. Both familiar and unfamiliar faces filled the shop, and sort of in limbo, I ended up leaning against the end of the counter, in that happy medium between customer and employee. Between snapping more pictures, I caught up with Pete, Jason, and Zach while commuters as diverse as the bicycles outside milled about curiously.

It was dark before I knew it, which meant that I learned how to open the plastic packaging of a Knog light [throw it against the floor]. And just when I was about to head out, the call that awards would be announced was made. It was probably the new CB cycling cap [designed by Croth, and handed to me by Kip himself] that did it. Or maybe my luck's just turning. Because I did end up winning something:

Or, a few things. All things pointing to more bike rides. Matching green CB socks with Pete? Check. CB water bottle that I've been wanting for a while? Check. Massive bag that I could probably carry my sister in? Check, check, check!
Winning stuff also apparently meant pictures had to be taken. Natasha snapped away while Croth pulled a sneaky from-behind pic [justifying it by claiming that "that picture didn't include that much of your ass"]. All pictures which will undoubtedly eventually surface on the Internet. So, a disclaimer: I am constantly sweaty, disheveled, and un-photogenic. You've been warned.
[Big thanks to everyone at CB for putting this on - it was awesome! More pictures from the open house/block party here.]

trying to engage

This scorching heat must have toasted my brain into a half-baked mess today.
Okay, there are confounding factors. Like too little sleep and too many obligations and responsibilities that I'm literally riding away from whenever I head out west. The sheer irony being that in trying not to think about errands, hats, emails, etc, etc, etc...well, I end up thinking about them. A lot.
Although I managed to keep myself from ramming into parked cars, there was some quick swerving around potholes and roadkill, and even the need to use that squeaky front brake. And while being zoned out helped with the hills [I would be halfway up one without seeming to notice I was even climbing], I could not, for the life of me, clip in.

When done unconsciously, it takes me less than a second. But I was fumbling today, coasting and peering over my knee as I tried to engage and hear that satisfying *click*. Don't think about it, don't think about it, I thought. And then I'd think about it.
I even did that super newbie move where I thought I was clipped in only to have my pedal slip out from under my cleat and bash my shin. I also managed to scratch myself on my front brake; the icing on the cake being a bloody knee when I accidentally smashed it into a counter when I got home.

It's probably just sheer complacency. This is no NYC. These are the 'burbs of Boston, where I can stay in my drops without so much as tapping my brakes for miles. Heading out on rides sleepy and sans coffee is actually an option. Pedestrians are pretty much nonexistent, and even if Waltham is completely different from Brighton and Brookline, I know where I'm going.
And in response, my brain seems to have shut down a little. Even with wider shoulders and the confidence to do slightly shady stuff on my bike, my legs weren't tense and alert. I felt sluggish. Even a little lazy.
I suppose that's what happens when you come home.

loaded

In a few hours, I'll be headed back to Beantown. Headed back to training rides [fun], a block party at Cambridge Bikes tomorrow [more fun], and running [the least fun, ever].
At least my wallet might stop getting thinner, and my tummy might also stop getting thicker. Because I ate. And drank. Delicious sandwiches [hands down one of my favorite foods], cupcakes from Sugar Sweet Sunshine, and multiple caffeinated beverages from Jack's and Ninth Street Espresso. I even cooked dinner one night, but only after injecting my arteries and heart with juicy grease in the form of chicken wings and fries.

There was even a celebrity sighting. Malcolm Gladwell, who almost looked like he might walk into Ninth Street Espresso yesterday. I was all staring him down like "oh hey, I've never read your books but I've heard of them and you should get yourself an espresso." Fail [obviously].
And then there was the TV watching. Between the multiple runs to Mood for fabric, the East Village for coffee and bikes, and the post office to send boxes of acquired things back home to Boston, I managed my fair share of Law & Order SVU, CI, and somewhat trashy true crime shows [I don't have a TV at home, so I have to get my fix in NYC]. And in spite of the inordinate amount of time I spent in front of the tube, I even managed to get blogged.

Okay, I also managed a few more things. Like getting my hands on a very limited edition Gage & Desoto bag [for the non-uber bike geeks, those are some key names of Team CSC Saxo Bank]. Wicked, right?
Mike explained that he didn't want me to leave empty-handed when he gave me the bag, seeming to pull it out of nowhere. Empty-handed? Really? This trip had me loaded full of good food, new friends, and an appreciation for those who bike in the city. Add to that super exclusive bike-related gear and I am leaving here a happy girl, fists full of stuff.
As if I really need any more reason to hop down to NYC more often.

gage & desoto

I love "Zoolander."
Maybe that's why designers scare me.
Okay, not really. Designers have always been sort of intimidating. I have this image of them as being self-absorbed and a little crazy. A slightly socially awkward drama queen whose erratic behavior is only forgiven due to the ability to create, cut, and sew beautiful things together. And one that loves to judge.
My limited closet is enough reason to avoid this species of human. But with the hat making thing, it's getting harder. And yesterday, at NYC Velo, I met one. In person.
An email popped into my inbox last week, a hello from the Big Apple from a designer who loves bicycles. One who wanted to trade. With a trip down to the city planned in two days, packing to be done, and hats for Cambridge in the works, I wasn't sure I could finish one in time. But it was a request for a "Boston" hat. For a designer in NYC? This was going to be interesting...and worth a late night or two.

Meet Mike Spriggs. The man behind Gage & Desoto [and those infamous "I *cog* NY" t-shirts], he's a Boston transplant that picked up and moved 4 hours south for legitimately insane traffic and a city that necessitates biking 10 miles [out of the city] to get to good training routes. And after hearing that he still wears Bosox gear in NYC, maybe this crazy city suits him better than cutesy New England [come on, even Southie has a measure of quaint...Irish...drunken...charm].
A bus ride and a handful of emails later, I met him yesterday to listen to stories about being a courier in Boston, Cambridge Bikes when it was in Harvard Square, the intensity of NYC, and his trip to Beijing, Osaka, and Tokyo. There was no pretension, and I was the sole provider of the socially awkward factor [as per the usual]. And despite my wide-eyed terror at biking a few short blocks, I even got to see the new Gage & Desoto t-shirt design:

After talking labels and with a promise for a screened t-shirt [of course, it'll be blogged about, but I'm not telling which one I want...yet], I headed home, with a new friend in the city.
Too bad this isn't Boston. But I'll be back down here again.
And it won't only be for coffee and fabric.

nyc...on velo

Admittedly, NYC feels a little unfamiliar on bike.
Being lazy, I've always been a big fan of the swelteringly hot, muggy subway, whose stations always smell like a public restroom that's been attempted to be cleaned - unsuccessfully - with some industrial strength bleach. On previous visits, I learned how to appreciate that blast of sticky air that clutches you in its uncomfortably warm embrace as you slide your Metrocard through the ticket gate. The NYC subway might not smell like roses, but it was convenient. Especially compared to Boston.
But on bike, I'm almost longing for Boston. NYC looks almost unrecognizable above the underground subway. And clutching onto my brakes, trying to stay constantly alert for a door, a pedestrian, a taxi intent on cutting me off, I'm desperately trying not to get lost. Armed only with a cellphone and pieces of paper with scribbled street names [my sister doesn't have a printer], I started to understand the disadvantages of always flying solo.
Sucking down liquid courage in the form of one of NYC's best lattes from Jack's Stir Brewed Coffee, I made my way uptown after a morning of intense fabric shopping to perfect a skill I've been honing for the past year or so, but in a new city. And in a new shop.

NYC Velo to be exact. I'd heard it was an awesome shop, from both my sister [who bought her bike here], and a few other reliable sources. I had to check it out. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to sharpen my "hanging out at bike shops for unnecessarily long periods of time and refusing to leave" skills.
For the record, I wasn't expecting to achieve IBC levels of loitering. This is an unfamiliar shop, in a kind-of unfamiliar city. I didn't even have a wingman to aid in eating up the shop's minutes, much less one to hold my hand and guide me through the city. NYC might be a grid, but the people definitely make this city unpredictable.
Adrenaline still pumping from the ride there, I was sweaty and frazzled when I walked into the shop. But once I did, I finally managed to exhale. And inhale. Bicycles. Ahhhhh.

Not just bicycles, but bike parts, shoes, and most impressively, lots and lots of bike clothes. There were baskets of gloves, hangers full of kits, and shelves of t-shirts. It's like a concept store but with legitimate substance behind it; it's not a fixster shop where it's only about what everything looks like. NYC Velo's the serious yet stylish cyclist; one who knows bicycles and likes to shower regularly. But one that's far from pretentious.
I went into the shop fairly confident that this shop was going to live up to its reputation. And it did. I didn't expect to leave, though, feeling comfortable. And in a way, not so lost.
On the way home, scrolling through my recent call history on my phone, IBC showed up on my screen [yeah, I almost have that shop on speed dial]. If I lived here, though, I'm pretty sure that NYC Velo will definitely have that special place in my phonebook.

city slicker

I fell asleep in my Sidis today.
With my bike under me.
No, I wasn't on some insane 24 hour bike race [unfortunately]. I was on a bus, heading down to a once more familiar city, but one I've never biked in. Groggy from a four hour bus ride punctuated with fits of sleep, I climbed onto my bike for the first time in New York, NY.

In Chinatown, to be exact. Which was, predictably, crawling with pedestrians. Clipped in on a freewheel, I just managed to dodge some old ladies dragging groceries and middle aged men who have to be involved in less than legal business.
This is like Boston...on meth. Or pure PCP. While Boston may be sleepy and nearly deserted at 7am, I can't imagine biking in NYC can ever be as lethargic as my morning ride into South Station this morning. Even navigating the few short blocks from Chinatown to my sister's apartment was more fast-paced than anything in Boston.

My sister told me that I would probably feel stifled if I ever lived in NYC after seeing pictures of Lexington. An NYC bike virgin, I had agreed.
Stifled? Here? That would definitely take a few years.