Sunday Self-Care: A virtual ride down Route 66

I have kind of a long-term goal — nothing really pressing, but just something I’ve thought might be cool to do — of pedaling the equivalent of the length of Route 66 on our stationary bike. About a year ago, I got on Google Maps and planned rides in increments of anywhere from 7 to 35 miles, following the road from landmark to landmark. I entered that information into Excel, printed out a chart, and hung it in the basement, where it’s been sitting, mostly ignored, for months. I noticed it a couple of weeks ago when I was testing out the new bike Ron bought after the old one broke down, and I decided to give it another go, just for fun.

I’ve logged over 100 miles in the past couple of weeks. It was easier than I expected, even with the tension turned up on the bike, and it’s a comfortable way to burn a few calories and generate a few much-needed endorphins while I wait for spring.

I don’t have the time, money, or endurance to go out and take a real ride down Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles right now, but this virtual trip is kind of a nice way to revisit favorite attractions in my head and daydream about where I’d like to explore on our next road trip.

By the way, 100 miles puts me somewhere south of the Route 66 Museum in Pontiac. If I were really on Route 66, I’d have started at the “Begin 66” sign in Chicago and passed the Berwyn Route 66 Museum, the site of the late, great Wishing Well Motel, Dell Rhea’s Chicken Basket, White Fence Farm, Haunted Trails, Route 66 Raceway, the Gemini Giant (pictured above), the site of the fabulous Riviera Roadhouse, Ambler’s Texaco, Odell Station, and the Pontiac Route 66 Museum.

Emily

Make this your resolution.

I’m not cool with all the body-shaming that Madison Avenue heaps on people (especially women), but eating less junk food and exercising regularly are good for most people regardless of weight or body type, so if you rushed out to buy a gym membership today — congratulations!

That said, if your resolution involves more exercise, please also resolve to be courteous to others who have the same goal.

A few tips for newbies:

1. At the gym, leave the equipment at least as clean as you found it.

2. If you need to take a call or respond to a text message mid-workout, please don’t do it while sitting on a weight bench or standing on a treadmill with the belt stopped. Other people may be waiting to use that equipment. Don’t tie it up while you socialize.

3. Put away equipment when you’re done using it.

4. Before you get on the track, ask a staff member which direction you’re supposed to go, which lane you’re supposed to be in, and whether that changes from day to day. And NEVER walk side-by-side on a narrow track or trail.

5. Cyclists: If you’re approaching someone from behind, please call out, “On your left” or “On your right” before you pass.

6. Pedestrians: On narrow trails, please yield to cyclists, skateboarders and rollerbladers. It’s a lot safer and easier for you to step off the trail than it is for them.

7. Skaters: For safety’s sake, please pick up your board and walk in congested areas.

8. On public streets: Pedestrians should go against the flow of traffic; cyclists should go with it. This reduces the risk of serious injury in the event of a collision.

9. Dog owners: In public spaces, keep your pet on a sturdy, short (six feet or less) leash, and clean up after him/her. If you aren’t willing to pick up poop, you don’t need pets. Oh, and burn that retractable leash. Seriously. They’re useless.

Got any other tips for newbies? Share ’em in the comments!

Emily

PSA: Tracks have rules.

As we approach the new year, with its time-honored tradition of buying gym memberships and abandoning them three weeks later, I’d like to address a point of etiquette too many people ignore:

Track lane usage.

If you join a gym with an indoor track, please take a minute to find out the rules for using that track — and then follow them.

Most gyms ask track users to run clockwise one day and counter-clockwise the next. To avoid head-on collisions, find out the day’s direction before you step onto the track.

Blind curves are an unfortunate reality of most indoor tracks. The shorter the track, the more blind curves per mile — so for safety reasons, gyms with multilane tracks usually designate separate lanes for runners and walkers.

When you run in the walking lane, you risk crashing into an unseen walker as you round a curve. This risk is particularly high at the hospital-owned gym I use, where many walkers are rehabbing from injuries and have limited mobility. They can’t get out of the way if a wrong-lane runner suddenly comes barreling around a curve.

You also risk confusing walkers, who may end up in the running lane in an effort to stay out of your way. This endangers both the walker and any runners who might be cruising along in the correct lane, unaware that a slow-moving obstacle is just around the curve. There is a big difference between a 10:00 mile (my top sustainable speed) and a 20:00 mile, and if I come around the corner at 6 mph to find someone dawdling along at half that speed, I have little time to react.

This is annoying at best — I’ve just been forced to alter my pace for no good reason — and dangerous at worst, as it forces me to risk injury by stopping on a dime or changing directions abruptly to avoid a painful collision.

This scenario is even more dangerous on outdoor trails shared by cyclists and pedestrians, as the speeds are faster, and bikes tend to be harder and have more pointy edges than people. Trust me: You don’t want to be involved in the aftermath of running in the bike lane, or vice versa.

For safety’s sake, stay in your lane.

Please pass this information along to anyone who might be thinking of joining a gym after the holidays. A little forethought can prevent a lot of pain.

Emily

Calm before the storm

I ran three miles tonight at a way more respectable pace than you’d expect from a girl this out of shape. It wasn’t exactly a PR, but 11-minute miles aren’t too bad, considering. When I finished, I did a mile and a half on a stationary bike.

I also read a good book today: Carl Hiaasen’s Hoot. It was cute.

I was gratified to see a kid reading my copy of Rumble Fish today. I hope he likes it. I’ve loaned out a lot of P.C. Cast novels this year, too, and a kid came and got my copy of The Road to read while he was in TRAICE, which is similar to what we called in-house when I was a kid.

It makes me happy to see my kids enjoying my classroom library.

I’m glad today was quiet, because the weekend is going to be insanely busy.

Emily

Quiet evening

Tonight was homework night, which means I was at school until about 5:45. Five kids showed up for free snacks and help with their make-up work, which I thought was pretty good.

I came home and spent an hour and a half making a to-do list, cleaning up the kitchen, and trying to get a fire going in the woodstove before heading over to the fitness center at TCC, which I can use for free as one of the perks of being a student. It’s a pretty nice gym. I spent almost an hour working out on a spin bike and several weight machines.

I’ve got a few papers to grade — mostly just grammar assignments, which I can finish in less than half an hour — and then I’ll either fix myself a smoothie or nuke a bowl of chili and dive into my math homework.

My instincts were right on the math class and the marathon program: Adding more demands to my plate has made my whole schedule run more smoothly. It seems totally counterintuitive — if not borderline neurotic — but my schedule always seems to work better when it’s filled to the brim. I think it just keeps me honest: It’s hard to procrastinate very much when you don’t have any spare minutes to waste.

Hope your evening is going smoothly, wherever you are.

Emily

Attack of the killer procrastinators

I was supposed to be proofing the Trip Guide, studying, and working on my 101 Things list this evening … so what did I do as soon as I got home from church? Went out for ice cream and then spent an hour and a half watching Attack of the Killer Tomatoes on DVD, of course.

On a completely unrelated note, my bike, which has a grand total of maybe — maybe — 30 miles on it, is in the shop because the chain keeps slipping. I’m supposed to get it back Tuesday.

It’s a cheap bike, but I’d hoped it would at least pretend to work right for a few hundred miles.

I’m kind of sorry I didn’t go with my first instinct, which was to buy a single-gear cruiser with coaster brakes. They’re heavier and harder to ride, but they’re also virtually indestructible. I know somebody is still making them, because one of the local hospitals bought a whole bunch of them for people to use at River Parks. While my Schwinn is in the shop, I might seize the excuse to go down to the trail and try out the Tulsa Townie program. If I like the bikes, I’ll probably try to find out where they got them so I can order one of my own. You know they’re built to last if they’re loaning them out to everybody and their dog.

The good news is that I can now ride all the way up the steep side of the hill on the overpass behind Ollie’s without smacking into The Wall or having to get off and walk … and I don’t feel as exhausted and sore and shaky at the end of my morning commute now that I’ve done it a few times. I still feel too hot and a little wobbly when I get off the bike, but by the time I get into the office and drink a couple of mouthfuls of Gatorade, I’m OK.

It was kind of disheartening to feel so rotten at the end of such a short ride the first few times, but I keep reminding myself that when I started training for my first marathon, a slow half-mile jog around the indoor track at the Y jolly near killed me. Two marathons later, I more or less grasp the concept of building a base and staying focused on the end goal instead of fussing over the progress of my training, so I think a century is not entirely out of reach.

Emily

Egging me on

All of these eggs came from my hens. The quarter gives you a sense of size: The three darker ones are pretty standard-sized. That lighter one, which I found in the nesting box last week, is roughly the size of a duck egg. Not surprisingly, it had two yolks — both of which were larger than average.

Double-yolk eggs are more common than you might imagine, but that one is the biggest I’ve ever seen. Poor hen … laying an egg that big can’t have been a comfortable job.

Incidentally, the girls are doing a magnificent job of smoothing out the garden where Ron spaded this weekend. They’ve broken up all the dirt clods and reduced the soil to fine powder, all while happily consuming all the bugs, grubs, and weed seeds they can find. Fine little gardeners, my girls….

On a totally unrelated note, I rode my bike home from work tonight for the first time in a couple of weeks. Despite the lag between rides, this one was easier than the last, even with the steep hill in the middle. (The train was blocking 33rd West Avenue, so I had to take the overpass behind Ollie’s, which involves a VERY steep grade.) The messenger bag worked out well, especially when Linda asked me to run by the post office for her on the way home.

Emily

Pedal pusher

I rode my bike to work today. It was OK, and I got there on time (according to the clock on the coffeemaker, I was actually a little bit early), but I’m definitely out of shape. I drove home because I had church tonight and needed the car to get there.

One cool thing about my new job: My boss is letting me stash my bike in the storage shed whenever I have to leave it overnight. That means I won’t have to walk to work on mornings when I’m planning to drive home. Sweet!

My plan is to drive to work on Monday mornings, ride the bike home, ride to and from work on Tuesdays, ride to work on Wednesdays, drive home so I can go to church, drive to work on Thursdays so I’ve got the car, ride the bike home, ride to work on Fridays, and drive back home so I have the car for the weekend. That works out to six 1.7-mile bike rides a week. And if I feel like riding on a weekend, I can always go get the bike and do some training on my day off.

Maybe someday that will sound like fun. Right now, it’s a little overwhelming … but then again, the idea of running a mile and a half was a little overwhelming five years ago, and I’ve run two marathons since then, so maybe I’m not off the deep end for thinking I might be able to ride a century one of these days.

Emily

Signs of spring

We’ve got crocus blooming in the front yard. I’ve seen several robins in the past week or so, and Ron saw the scissortails in the backyard the other day while he was splitting wood. I saw some henbit blooming like crazy the other day when I was out taking pictures, and we’ve got purple deadnettle all over our yard.

I had a good morning. We had breakfast at Ann’s Bakery, which I plan to review for Indie Tulsa. I had a very good doughnut, a sausage roll, and an absolutely wonderful creme horn, which got powdered sugar all over the car but was totally worth it … especially since we were in Ron’s car. (Ha, ha!)

When we got home, I put a coat of lacquer on the new house numbers, aired up my bike tires, and installed the basket on my bike. I bought my basket in November or something but never got around to installing it. It’s the kind that slips into a bracket mounted on the front of the bike, so you can take it off easily and use it as a shopping basket when you’re running errands. I’m supposed to work in the Reading Room this afternoon, but when I get back, I’ll probably ride for a little while. I think I’ll plan on two miles. That’s not very much, but I’m really out of shape, and I want to ease into it gradually so I don’t wear myself out and decide it’s too much trouble (like I usually do,  unfortunately).

I have to put on the bee suit and take the menthol pellets out of the hive this evening, too, but I want to wait until the girls get settled in for the evening, ‘cos they’ve been busy all day and are likely to cop a serious attitude if I go out there and mess with the hive before sunset.

Here are a couple more signs of spring:

Not sure what either of these little wildflowers might be, but they’re both tiny and seem to like shady areas.

Emily

UPDATE: I spent the afternoon at the Reading Room, where I picked up a Spanish-language edition of Science and Health (the first step toward No. 5 on my 101 Things list) … rode my bike around the neighborhood … took the menthol pellets out of the hive (I have no words for how much I love the bee suit we bought from Dadant last fall) … retrieved an egg from the henhouse … and am now trying to figure out what I want to make for dinner. Maybe I’ll see if there’s something interesting in The Enchanted Broccoli Forest.

Don’t call him a cyclist

Conway Twitty released a great song in the late ’70s or early ’80s called “Don’t Call Him a Cowboy.” The lyrics stated, in part:

Don’t call him a cowboy until you’ve seen him ride.
That Stetson hat and them fancy boots don’t tell you what’s inside,
And if he ain’t good in the saddle, then you won’t be satisfied,
So don’t call him a cowboy until you’ve seen him ride.

I thought of this song this evening after taking Songdog for a training run on the river trail.

At least a half-dozen times, I watched people in spandex outfits and color-coordinated helmets send Song into a blind panic by flying past him on their bikes at top speed with no warning whatsoever.

These so-called cyclists were obviously trying to project an image. They had their fancy racing bikes and their fancy helmets and their fancy outfits, and they were trying their best to look like serious athletes … but it was painfully obvious that they hadn’t spent enough time on the trail to learn even the most basic concepts of etiquette and safety.

If they had, they would have known that three little words — “on your left” — will do wonders to protect a pair of joggers (one on two legs, one on four) from potential injury and certain annoyance.

Three little words would give me time to put just a wee bit more tension on the leash and say my dog’s name in a firm tone to calm his lingering fear of having wheeled objects speed past him at close proximity (a fear that has been with him since the day almost three years ago when a car hit him and sent him rolling into my neighbor’s yard).

Three little words would help me keep Song at heel where he belongs.

Instead, the staunch refusal to utter those three little words sent my sweet collie mix slamming into me in raw terror, tripping me and sometimes knocking me off the trail, every single time anybody on a bicycle passed us from behind.

Here’s a clue: You can put on your fancy “serious cyclist” costume and ride up and down the busiest half-mile of Tulsa’s 20-some-odd-mile-long trail system at top speed to show off your high-end racing bike all you want, but if you’re not going to follow that trail’s universally accepted safety procedures, you might as well have baseball cards clothespinned to your spokes, because it’s obvious to anyone unfortunate enough to have to share the trail with you that you are nothing more than a silly poser in a silly outfit.

I’m sorry, but I’m not calling you a cyclist. I’ve seen you ride.

Emily