Weight

I used to be able to tell you the exact last time that I drove a car to work, but not anymore because, really, is it that important? I used to pride myself on not knowing the current price of gas. I can still tell you the coldest temp I've ever ridden in (-24F). I can tell you where the newest homeless camp has been erected or destroyed along a limited corridor of this town. There are three miles of this city that I am so intimately familiar with that they feel like mine.

It used to be seven miles. Then it was eleven. Then seven different miles. Then four. Now it's three. I know where every bump is at, where the cars won't give you three feet as they pass because they don't have it to give, and which lights won't turn from red to green unless a car pulls up no matter where you place your bike.

To be honest, Anchorage can be a bit of an ugly town, Alaska an ugly state. It's not the views that are ugly. It is the people and the ways that people treat each other here.

After the honeymoon glow wore off of moving here, it became clear that people here can be really ugly to each other. I first felt it as a cyclist riding for transportation rather than fun. When I first started commuting by bike, I didn't wear the uniform. I wore a mishmash of clothing from the thrift shops - the same as the homeless folks. I might have had a bit more focus with what I wore. But because I wasn't wearing what seems like the cyclist's uniform, I felt that I was often lumped by drivers into the same category as those who are often homeless or inebriated and riding bike in this town - inconveniences whom none would miss if gone.

I had close calls at least once per week with cars and trucks. Usually trucks. With big tires and fake testicles hanging from the rear bumper.

Then my I started wearing more cycling-specific gear - pants with reflectors along the sides, bright orange jackets, etc. And it seemed like the close calls got less and less.

Then I woke up and realized that it had nothing to do with my clothing or looking like a "cyclist," but rather was that my route changed so that I rode less roadways and more bike trails. I still generally fall into the dirtbag cycling category. And I love thrift shops.

Now that I am back to a fairly even mix of road and trail, I have a lot more close calls again. Or, rather, just those events that make me feel less than comfortable - a truck passing too closely, or a car riding my ass to the light and then gunning it around me in the intersection.

I read somewhere that many drivers unconsciously do not see cyclists as human and this is where many of the conflicts come from. I don't know anything about that. Instead, I think that here in Alaska, there are a few things that cause drivers to treat cyclists and pedestrians so poorly and that these things can be extended to how people here treat each other in general.

I'm trying here. Trying to make connections that still are only ideas in my head. Or maybe I'm trying to find answers for what I read in this article my wife sent me: http://www.cnn.com/interactive/2014/02/opinion/sutter-change-alaska-rape/index.html?hpt=hp_c2

I don't want to belittle things, but I really think that the same behaviors and attitudes that allow so many in this state to metaphorically and literally spit on the homeless, get violently argumentative about user rights on public trails, run down cyclists and pedestrians, and even deface public schools by tagging them with swastikas or starting their playgrounds on fire are the same types of attitudes that allow rape to be such an epidemic in this state. It is institutionalized here - the victim is to blame.

I hope that I can become more eloquent and cognizant about this topic someday. I just don't know. I just can't get my head around the how and the why. And it scares me. It really, really does.

Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before

I was detained...

Naw. Not really. If anything, I've been getting places faster this week than normal. It seems like it took me no time at all to get home last night and getting into to work this morning was likewise seemingly faster than normal.

I have no really thoughts as to why this may be. I think it probably has to do with the feeling in my head, caused by a glut of snot in my sinuses, of swimming in the ether. Ephemera? I don't know, man.

Talking of transportation... well I wasn't, but I will. Buses. They are funny things. When the bus arrived this AM, there were two people on it. Two. The day after a new schedule went into effect. A new schedule that axed a bus. Normally the first bus of the day has five to seven people coming in before it gets to my stop, so it is never full, but I've never seen it so empty before. I'm really not sure what's going on.

The 4:30 bus home, though... that one is full as usual. If anything it might even be a bit more full than normal. I had hoped that the change to the morning schedule would move some folks either to an earlier bus or to an even later bus. Not to be.

That's okay, though. No skin of me nose.

In other transport news, there's a private company trying to put together a, what appears to be on demand, bus service - 24X7X365. At least this is according to the flyer duct taped to the bus stop shelter.

This is not something I worry about as the cost of running this service will keep most VM riders firmly where they are - but we'll see. We'll see.

River

I just want fame.
That's all. Fame. Everyone
to know my face, know my name.

But that's a lie. I want
to be nothing more
than the shadow in the corner,
remembering the times when
we were so poor
that we'd spend Sunday
at Sears, watching the traveling
kitchen utensil pitchwoman
hawking her wares center ring
for the gathered crowd, a crowd
drawn in with the repeated
refrain over the in-store PA of
"Claim your free gift just for watching."
and we would. We would hold on
to those cheap trinkets
as if they were the golden scepter
of the gods. We would walk the aisles
dreaming of all the products we
thought we needed, but couldn't afford.

It seems that we were happier then.
That life wasn't so complicated, that
there was not so much riding on every decision.

Yeah, the bills were still there. The stresses of
putting gas in the car and food on the table. All
that was there, but it was like we knew
that we couldn't afford anything that we
thought we wanted, so we just didn't want.
We didn't want.

How to go back to not wanting, now?

I've got nothing else. I suppose I could mention something about the fact that the Valley Mover started their new schedule today that reduces the AM busses from eight to seven. I could, but I can't say that I saw much of an effect from this change. Yes, there was another fat biker on the bus this AM, but apart from being a bit more difficult to get my bike in and out, that wasn't much of an effect.

More important is that the bus didn't feel any more crowded than it normally does. I figure over the rest of this week things might change as folks from the canceled bus try the other options and come to rest on their prefered bus.

I still prefer the 5:10. It's quiet and I get home at a decent time.

Infinite Horizons

http://www.alaskadispatch.com/article/20140130/anchorage-motor-vehicle-laws-stack-deck-against-cyclists

The article is, as with most of Mr. Medred's articles, sloppily written and an oversimplification of most of the "facts," but does provide an interesting overview of just how skewed Alaska is, overall, towards anything that is gas powered.

And, as usual, the comments are the best part of the article. It continually amazes me, though it shouldn't, that people seem to believe that only gas taxes pay for roads and that cyclists don't pay taxes. Strange that being a cyclist excludes owning or operating a car or paying taxes (property tax, which is where the bulk of road and infrastructure improvement funds come from... not gas taxes). Someone needs to tell the taxman that I'm a cyclist, so I don't pay taxes.

Dude.

Too often it feels like it is not if, but when. When I get hit will I be lucky enough to walk away? I sure hope so.

I do want to refute a few points made by one Mr. Art Chance. Here's the text of his comment: 

Let's sort this out a bit and perhaps remove a little bias and emotion. First, the fact that the witness observing from A Street had a red light doesn't mean the light was red on C Street, though I'm not sure just how the left arrows are timed there. In the morning, the light would be heavily biased towards green on A and C Streets, so you'd be sitting at a red light for a long time on 40th. In fact, you'd be sitting at a red light for long time on 40th any time of day. If one were in a hurry, it might be awfully tempting to pop over into that crosswalk and become a "pedestrian" to cross C Street rather than waiting for the light or if one were hurrying east on 40th and saw the light go yellow, to do that pedestrian thing to get across C Street.


The article doesn't clearly state the victim's direction of travel, nor the direction of travel of the motorist, but given that the victim entered the intersection at 40th and C and the witness was looking to the west towards C street from the light at A street, that means that she (the witness) was heading north. If the motorist was heading east on 40th, there is no evidence to suggest that the cyclist "pop[ped] over into that crosswalk" as there is a separated multi-use bike path along C street at that corridor. Thus the cyclist would have had the light and, while he should have indeed dismounted for the crosswalk, would not have moved from the lane and into the crosswalk to become a pedestrian. 

I wish that piece of the muni code were enforced more because I very rarely see a bicyclist stop at a red light. They almost universally hop over on the sidewalk or that megabucks bike path that they don't pay for and pretend they're a pedestrian and go through the crosswalk to avoid the light. Under traffic laws as I thought I understood them, if you're going to cross the street as a pedestrian, you dismount the bicycle and walk it across. If you're riding, operating, the bicycle, you're a vehicle that is inappropriately in a crosswalk and if you get hit, it may well be that you were a vehicle that failed to yield, so your estate can pay to fix the damage you did to the car that hit you.


I rarely see drivers yield to pedestrians in the crosswalk, but that doesn't mean that they don't. The argument put forth here is built on a singular and limited set of data - one cannot extrapolate the behavior of an entire segment of the population from one person's observation of a behavior. 

"They almost universally hop over on the sidewalk or that megabucks bike path that they don't pay for..." Wait. What? There are so many fallacies implied here. First is the implication that someone who rides a bike does not own or operate a motor-vehicle, thus paying gas taxes just like everyone else. Secondly is the implication that gas taxes pay for all roads and sidewalks - this is patently untrue. Gas or 'road' taxes in actually pay for only a miniscule portion of construction and maintenance of public roadways, even figuring federal grant moneys and funds matching. The bulk of funding for public infrastructure comes from general funds - funds raised municpaly and in the state through property, sales, and excise taxes - taxes that, in one way or another, all citizens pay. 

I can hear Art right now, though - renters don't pay property taxes. Yes, this is true, but you don't think the landlord pays them out of his or her own pocket, do you? But, I digress. 

Art's final line in this paragraph is telling of his own bias, which he declares in the opening lines to be attempting to remove. From a simple logic standpoint, if someone hits me with their car and kills me, my estate should have to pay to fix the car's damage? I don't get it, but I'll just leave that alone for now.  

I don't know the facts here and the article certainly gives no comprehensive reporting of the facts since it was obviously written to try to make a particular point. No driver wants to hit a bicyclist, though I'll admit to a few instances where I wouldn't have minded shooting one. Mr. Mason commenting below about his .45 toting bicycling acquaintance would do well to remember that a goodly number of vehicle drivers are armed too. If the bicyclist here were in the roadway and a driver blew the light on C Street and hit him in that roadway, I think it is almost inconceivable that the driver wouldn't be ticketed for at minimum failure to yield. I think it far more likely that the investigating officer and the prosecutor couldn't determine with enough precision where the collision actually occurred to be confident in making a charge or did in fact know that the bicyclist had acted to "... propel a bicycle so as to suddenly leave a curb or other place of safety and move into the path of a vehicle that is so close as to constitute an immediate hazard" by diverting into the the C Street crosswalk.

Yes, Art, the article was written to make a particular point. All articles are. All writing is. That is the nature of discourse. And I completely agree that the article does a horrid job of laying bare the facts. That said, the remainder of the paragraph is in direct opposition to Art's opening statement that he wants to remove emotion. No one does want to hit a cyclist, though Art's assertion that he's wanted to shoot one from time to time speaks volumes about his emotional attachment to and bias towards the subject. 

That said, I won't try to argue against the remaining points in this paragraph because the article does not provide enough information with which to argue and it is clear that the laws referenced in the article and the paragraph above are written in such a way as to not permit cogent argument against without having all of the evidence. 

And for those of you advocating special protections for bicyclists, let's start by having you pay some license and registration fees on those things so that you can make at least a symbolic payment towards the building and maintaining of those roads and bike trails that we drivers pay for with our gasoline taxes. Mr. Medred tries to whip up this emotional appeal about how it is open season and no limit on bicyclists. The reality is that many bicyclists are rude, militantly riding in the middle of 35-45 mph traffic lanes at 20 mph and operating their "vehicle" as if they were either oblivious to or totally ignorant of traffic laws. In Southeast we boaters referred to kayakers who militantly held the center of a channel as "speedbumps." A huge percentage of bicyclists operate with no lights, wearing dark clothing, as often as not with headphones on, and I can't remember the last time I saw a bicycle with at least a left side rear view mirror. Turning your head to look behind you will almost certainly cause you to swerve towards the traffic lane.

Again, gas taxes pay for quite little of the roadways and pathways that drivers like to claim as their sole domain for paying gas taxes. Also, how is it that license and registration fees here are equated with gas taxes? These are not synonymous. And, most cyclists pay license and registration fees for their cars and ATVs and boats and motorcycles and other motorized vehicles just like other drivers do. Basing an argument on the assertion that being a cyclist and a motorist are mutually exclusive is just weak. There are some cyclists who do not own a car just as there are motorists who do not ride a bike. 

Many bicyclists are rude. Yeah, I get that. These are generally the same cyclists who, when operating a motor vehicle are also rude. These are generally the same cyclists who don't hold open the door for little old ladies. Many drivers are rude, as well. Again, a personal observation does not provide a statistical basis on which to built the argument. 

Here's the thing, Art, cyclists who take the lane do so not to be rude or hold up traffic. They do so in order to create the safest possible situation for themselves when cycling in traffic. I am curious as to which traffic laws you feel that they are being willfully ignorant of when taking the lane? Is it not going the speed limit? Because a speed limit, if we all remember, is the top end speed a vehicle may travel on a given roadway, not the minimum. Do cyclists run red lights? Absolutely. But so, too, are there drivers who drive without seeming to know the rules of the road. 

Kayakers as speed bumps. That is a beautiful red herring argument there. 

And again, Art, using your personal observation as the basis of the argument about all cyclists is just the sign of a weak argument. Yes, there are many cyclists who don't use lights and who wear headphones and don't have a mirror. A mirror is not a legal requirement. Lights are, depending on conditions. This is a matter of enforcement, or lack thereof. 

I'm well aware that there is a cohort of for lack of a better word "serious" bicyclists. For the sake of this discussion I'll grant that the serious cyclist on his $2-3K fat tire bike is likely to operate it knowledgeably and responsibly, though I've seen exceptions. But that "serious" bicyclist isn't the one that drivers have the most contact with. The best bicycle salesmen in Alaska are the cops and Troopers and most of the bicyclists you encounter at rush hour are people who've lost their driver's license either temporarily or permanently for driving while intoxicated. Many of these people are poor so they don't have the fat tire with the flashing LEDs and studded tires and they don't have the expensive reflective clothing. All of them demonstrably have shown bad judgement in operating a vehicle. Some of them are drinking while operating the bicycle. I've had my heart almost stop more than once because a bicyclist appeared out of nowhere swerving to avoid a puddle or swerving into a cross walk to avoid a light or stop sign. There are at least two sides to this story.

I feel that this final paragraph is the most telling of Art's entire comment and is, unfortunately, likely the stereotype that is held by most non-cyclists and even many cyclists in this town. I have to admit that I have seen cyclists out riding and wondered if they are riding because they have to or if they want to, if they have a suspended license or if they are homeless. It is human nature to do this. Though the cost of one's bike does not correlate to how he or she operates it. I have seen a lot of cyclists on 10K plus bikes riding like complete jag-offs and I have seen people on 100 dollar Wallyworld bikes riding absolutely in accordance with the laws.

This is the heart of the issue, really. We look at those who bike, for whatever reason, as second-class citizens. The same with pedestrians. Until we take a really rational look at the situation and really try to get past our own biases, we won't be able to really address the issues here, which are not cycle vs. car, but rather the fact that we have laws on the books that are so unclear in their wording and intent as to make it so that someone operating a multi thousand pound motor vehicle can break a traffic law and kill person and yet have the blame deferred to the victim. If the driver in this article had not run a red light, the cyclist would not have died at that particular moment. The fact that the driver broke a traffic law and that resulted in a death seems like it should clearly be an issue of reckless endangerment. 

Maybe if we all just were just a bit more forgiving and aware of each other's essential humanness, maybe this city would be a better place for everyone. 

Sin

Bodies suspended in the cottony infancy
of someone else's dreams, rocking rhythmically
in 65 miles per hour time - thump, thump, thump,
the wheels go round and round
ticking minutes away from our collective
days. Once it's gone it won't come back, we
know time is a commodity, but is our time
worth more than our money, is the time spent
worth the cost? The early mornings, the early nights
tossing and turning trying to sleep, the big house
on the big lot miles and miles away from
where we need to be every day.


I get these strange moments when I wonder how long I'll be able to do it. The commute, that is. Or the commute the way I do it now, anyway. And maybe all this is triggered by the fatigue I'm currently feeling as a result of my recent illness, but I just wonder if I'll be able to keep doing this in another five years.

First off, I try to work four ten hour shifts, rather than five eights. So that has a big affect on my commuting choices. The company I contract to now has a 9/80 schedule - one week of five days, nine hours and one week of four days, nine hours. This has led to me working a 40 hours one week and 50 hours the following. I've found it quite hard to back off from the ten hour days. It does give me some padding so that I can bug out early from time to time. Though I never come in late. Odd.

Anyway, my typical work day is as follows:
4:00 AM wake up, hit the head, check weather reports, check email for anything new that came in overnight.
Between 4:35 and 4:45 - head out the door
Between 4:57 and 5:05 - get to bus stop
5:07 board bus
5:10 leave for Anchorage
Check email as they come in, work issues that need working, ~1/2 hour of work completed during commute
5:55 arrive in Anchorage
Between 6:07 and 6:20 arrive at work
6:25 boot computer and check email, launch apps needed for first tasks
6:27 change into work clothes
6:33 make breakfast, check local news, light surfing while eating oatmeal, check calendar, pour coffee and sigh
6:33 until 3:50 work - whatever tasks are at hand
3:50 get changed into bike clothes and head out
Between 4:10 and 4:15 arrive at bus stop
4:30 get on bus and head out of town
Keep tabs on email and work issues, as needed during ride, ~1/2 hour work
5:20 arrive in valley
Between 5:32 and 5:45 arrive home
Between 8:30 and 9:00 get in bed

So, I'm only physically in the office for a bit over nine hours, but the total time worked each day is ten or more hours, depending on how many tasks I have to deal with during the commute.

I also see now that I could wait to head out to the bus in the afternoon a bit longer. There is generally a fairly long line to get on the bus in the afternoon, though, and I really like to get the seat right next to where I put my bike.

The days are really long and it takes a toll. Particularly when I also have my second job as an adjunct. That means that sometime between when I get home and when I go to bed, those two precious hours, I have to shower, eat, try to spend some time with the family, and grade papers, answer student emails, and all the other stuff that comes along with that work. It makes it so that in essence every waking moment during the week is spent working.

And you know what sucks about that? When I have time off or vacation, I find that I can't really relax because I always feel like I should have something that I should be doing. Or something I should be procrastinating.

I could step back to eight hour days. That would allow me to sleep in until 5:55 each morning and still be home at the same time each night. I could also shift my commute back so that I leave later in the morning and ride a later bus home.

I like the bus I ride in the morning because it is generally not terribly full. I also like getting to work early when there are not a lot of people around. I also like having a bit more time at home with the kids in the evening. Though if I didn't have to get in bed at 8:30 each night I might end up with the same or even more time with them each day.

The ideal situation is, of course, finding clients in the Valley so I don't have to commute. Or finding clients in Anchorage who will allow me to work remotely most or all of the time.

Okay. Enough of my whining. The riding is glorious right now, for the most part. A bit slick in areas, but fast everywhere else. I need to just enjoy it. Right?

Nutopia

Ahhh, commuting. It's been a few days, what with my work from home day, flex Friday day off, and two days down with a nasty bug.

I'm often amazed at how a stretch of six days can result in such a change in overall riding conditions. In the Valley it is still dry pavement and fast rolling. I like it. I have a bit more leeway in my schedule because it takes me 12 minutes to make the ride from the house to the bus stop rather than 20 to 25 on snow.

Anchorage, on the other hand, isn't so amenable to fast riding. Many portions of my route are covered with layer upon layer of slick ice after the repeated freeze and thaw cycles over the last week. Chester Creek Trail is, however, not terrible. Apart from the potholes, that is. It is firm, fast, and not too slippery. And, if you pay attention, you can easily see the path that has been built into the base, where things will remain firm well into April or May. Stick to that ribbon of compacted snow and all is good. Stray from the beam and it feels like you are riding a jackhammer for all the footprint holes that have now frozen solid over night.

Hell, though, I can't complain when on Saturday I was able to get out for a ride in shorts. Shorts I say. I've even gone back to my clipless pedals because it seems serious overkill to wear winter boots rated to -40 when the temps are in the 30's at the lowest.

And on Friday I put in 32 miles on the steed. 32 miles of all bare pavement. Not the best terrain for riding a 35+ pound fatbike with Nate tires on it, but WTF? It was sunny, the single track probably a mess, so the road called. Can't think of a better way to spend a few hours. It reminded me of when I first start riding serious miles back in Vermillion, South Dakota. The riding choices there were gravel roads or highways. I got to know the farm roads quite well. It made me feel connected to the area. My ride on Friday was similar. It connected me to the area in a way I hadn't been before.

It helped that the sun was out and glorious - the type of glorious that makes you laugh out loud at just how lucky you are to be alive and moving through the world on a bike.

I love that feeling - when nothing can bother you, when everything in the world is absolutely perfect. It's somewhat like runner's high. It doesn't happen that often while on bike. At least not for me. Probably because I tend to ride trail whenever possible, so it is a rare thing to get into a zone where I'm turning a good and consistent cadence for long stretches of time leading to the zen-like mental state coupled with the physical balancing of everything in order to really get the endorphins running the bloodstream.

I will say, though, that if you try to talk to me after I've ridden for an hour or two, even if I'm not "feeling the high" I probably sound like I'm drunk or something. I get a bit discombobulated in the head.

I would almost think about getting a road bike if I thought that I would be able to get that high on every ride. But I know that a road bike beneath me would end up a crumpled pile of worthlessness in short order. Besides, I like having the option of jumping off road and into the dirt and grime as the mood takes me. And road bikes, I hate to say it, seem to come with a whole bunch of Fred baggage. I don't need me none of that.

Adorno Pattern

This is not the scene I'm seeing right now:

And I somewhat wish my bike looked like this at the end of the ride:

It was dangerous out there this AM. The daily heat up and nightly cool down means that we've gotten to the point now where even the trails are coated in a layer of ice. Even though it is textured, it is slick as can be. I ended up almost going down twice this morning.

I've no budget for studs, so I'll stick to just riding slower and choosing my lines carefully.

That said, the riding in the valley is actually pretty prime - for road riding, anyway. The wind has ensured that there is not much in the way of water standing on the route I take. I've read some reports that my local single track isn't faring so well, though. That bums me out, but it might be some prime time to ride the Matanuska river bottom again? I'll need to figure out some place to ride this weekend. Hopefully not on the road.

Two men.

Obviously drunk

on cheap malt shuffle-slide

across the ice glazed

downtown street. They pass

the bottle, brown and

rotten fruit scented, making their way

to the fluorescent and neon

flooded brightness of the

transit center with it's

by the slice pizza joint and the smell

of piss, alcohol, and vomit in the corners

looking for a place to warm up or

a corner to piss in.

On the street the buses come and go,

puking waves of humanity from

morning to night and the hangers around

huddle in the halls for warmth,

exiting to the parking ramp to sneak a smoke or two

or hide in the alley for a toke

of something a bit more powerful

and illicit and away from the eyes of the

rent a cops with their attitudes, uniforms, and

haircuts borrowed from the troopers they

idolize and who they want

to be, but never will.

The shoulder-mount radios

not as impressive

as a side arm, but for minimum wage

they have to be pleased with what they've got.

Two men,

obviously drunk on cheap

malt slide-scuff

across the rutted Anchorage

street and spy a plastic bag of clothes

hidden against the

wall, someone's stash of every

personal possession.

Their clothes

and jackets. The things

they need to keep warm

while living on the street.

Like characters from an

apocalyptic sci-fi film

they tear into the thin

sheen of polyethylene,

strewing the assorted debris of someone else's life

on the snow packed asphalt

of the alley, holding

jeans, shirts, jackets, and underwear

up to their bodies to judge

possible fit, discarding some

while keeping others.

I stood there, across the street

watching, not sure what to do or say.

Anything left on the street

is fair game.

What if this bag

was the only thing left in the world

to its owner?

Does it make me horrible that

I never said a word?

Does it make me terrible for not

shouting to drop it, for not

running over and gathering up the scraps

stuffing them back in the bag

and standing guard until

the owner's return?

Instead I just stood by and watched

two men.

Obviously drunk on cheap

malt selecting scraps of clothes from

an abandoned trash bag

as if shopping in Macy's,

tossing aside the unwanted, taking

a deep drink from the brown bottle

before disappearing down the throat of the alley

with their new wardrobe in tow.  

At least the view from the window is decent.