"You Rode All The Way Here?"

We're in the grip of another heat wave.  According to the weather forecasters, yesterday was the hottest day so far:  96F, or 35.6C.  The humidity, though, is what makes it so oppressive:  As soon as you step out, you feel as if you're wearing the air.

So, once again, I'm taking early rides on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.  Yesterday I rode out to Red Hook, where an almost preternaturally blue (for that area, anyway) sea and sky provided a visual, if not visceral, relief. 

And they allowed me to fantasize about traveling to exotic, faraway places--even if I know, thanks to family members who worked the docks, how un-romantic it actually is to travel the world by working on ships.

Anyway, today's ride had an interesting twist:  I crossed a pedestrian bridge over Hamilton Avenue, which is more like a highway than a city street.  A construction crew was installing new guardrails.  The foreman or supervisor, a fellow named Wallace who's a few years older than me, had to fill out some sort of report or form but didn't have a pen.  I overheard him, stopped and said, "I'm pretty sure I have one."  Which I did, and he was grateful.  We talked for a while; he asked where I was coming from. "Astoria."  

"Really?  All the way from there?"

I nodded.  

"You have a nice bike."  He picked it up and accidentally kicked the pedal.  "You rode a fixed gear all the way from Astoria?"

I said that, for me, it's not a really long ride and if he started riding, he probably could do it after a couple of months or so.  He demurred.  We got to talking about a lot of things--music, what life was like when we were teens, the state of the city and favorite foods.  But he just couldn't get over the fact that I'd ridden from my place--about 17 kilometers--on my fixie, and that I would continue to the Red Hook waterfront and head home--about 40 kilometers, in all, before the worst of the day's heat and humidity.

If Not The Bike

Another heat wave has this city, and area, in its grip.  That means, as in the previous stretch of serial "scorchers," I'm taking early morning rides.  Also, I needed to get back in time for a lunchtime conference call.

Although my situation precluded a long ride, I was happy to be awake and on the road before the rush hour traffic.  I rode early enough, in fact, that on my way back--which took me along the Malcolm X Promenade--I didn't see very much traffic entering or exiting LaGuardia Airport.  

Also, I rode early enough to avoid an afternoon storm that was forecast, but never arrived.  The seeming imminence of the storm was accented by two skeletal trees on the bay:

It's strange to see them in the middle of summer.  I think they were just planted, along with other vegetation, to shore up a shoreline ravaged by Sandy and other storms.  Or those trees might've been damaged during, and pruned after, one of those storms.

Those trees framed a grimly dreamlike skyline of tall buildings blotted by clouds behind masts of boats belying the seemingly-imminent storm.

That I can find, without even trying, a new view or other sensual experience on a ride I've done dozens, or even hundreds, of times is a reason why I take those rides time and time again.  Some folks--friends--think it has to do with my innate "sensitivity."  I say it's, if not the bike, then cycling.

 

Taste In Destinations

Yesterday morning I kept with my riding plan for this heat wave, which is expected to continue at least until Sunday.  Once again, I set out after quick breakfast--coffee and two English muffins pan-toasted with olive oil, fresh-ground black pepper and rosemary--early.  

(I like butter as much as anyone does.  But I feel that olive oil is more elegant.  Maybe it has to do with my Italian heritage.)

My trip took me to Fort Totten and back, via the Malcolm X Promenade and some zigging and zagging through northeastern Queens residential streets.  All told, I did about 40 km (25 miles) round-trip before 10 am.  And, yes, I did get my fresh Greek yogurt from Kesso's:  Their hours coincided with mine.

At Fort Totten, I could see how hot an humid the day would be--and, in spite of the clear skies at that moment, I could tell, from the haze on Long Island Sound,  that the storm forecast for the afternoon would indeed drop lots of water very quickly and hard:  the thunder almost seemed to be an echo of the rain pounding against the sidewalks.

I felt confident, though, that I would get to my place before the storm.  Maybe it had something to do with riding Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear: I couldn't coast; I had no choice but to pedal.  It felt really good.

 

Somehow I think she knew that house was officer's quarters when Fort Totten was still an active military base. (A small section, fenced off, is still used for Army Reserve exercises, and the Fire Department trains in another part.)  My bikes have such good taste in their destinations!

A New-School Beat On An Old Ride

 You might be reading this post a bit earlier than you normally see my posts.  I'm headed out for an early ride.  I set out early yesterday, but today I wanted to get out even earlier.  

While our heat wave isn't quite as severe (yet!:  It just started) as the ones in Europe or the Western US, the weather is definitely hot.  The good news, for us, is that we are better prepared than the Europeans simply because, during most summers, we experience at least one multiday stretch of high temperatures around 33-37C (91-98.6F).  And we haven't been afflicted with the droughts that have parched the western regions.

So, yesterday I decided that as long as we're scorched, I will get out as soon as possible after waking up (which means:  after a cup of coffee and a "light bite") and get back by about 11 am.

Yesterday morning's ride was pretty random, except for one thing:  After zigging and zagging through various Queens neighborhoods, the Flushing Meadow-Corona Park paths and the Malcolm X Promenade (a.k.a. World's Fair Marina), I made my way to Kesso's to get enough of one of my favorite foods--the Greek yogurt they make on site--to take me through the next few days.

Alas, the man in charge wasn't in.  Sometimes I think he's one of those people for whom owning a business really means setting his own hours.  But, to be fair, I know he sells his yogurt and tzatziki to stores and restaurant and, since Gus retired, I think Spyros has become a one-man operation. 

Anyway, that was the only disappointment.  My ride, however, revealed a pleasant surprise.  I have pedaled around Flushing Meadow-Corona Park many times, but had never before seen this:

Turns out, the sculpture of LL Cool J has been there since January and will remain until November.  

I like the way his face is depicted. And, as one of the founders of "new school" hip-hop, it makes sense that his visage is perched on top of a  replica of a "boom box."  But that old-school (at least to us, in 2022) way of playing recorded music is not there merely as a token to represent his status as one of the genre's--and a generation's--definitive artists.  It actually works--by solar power.  It's programmed only to run from noon until 5 pm, however, and because of the heat, I hadn't planned to stay that long.  But I plan to return one day after the heat breaks, just so I can hear some of his work in a way I've never heard it before.

Maybe I'll discover something else new on another familiar ride. Whatever it is, I doubt it will have a beat like the ones LL Cool J--who grew up in Queens--makes! 

Mad Dogs, Englishmen And Lucky

 Last week the weather was more like May or June than August.  Now we’re experiencing a heat wave that’s baking the rest of the world. Or so it seems.

So, today, I went for an early ride—or, at least, early enough that when I got home, only mad dogs and Englishmen remained outside.

Oh, and “Lucky”:

Here Comes The Heat

 Apologies to George Harrison for the title of this post!

This morning I took an early ride. It was pleasant, if not challenging:  a bit more than an hour in a loop that took me down to Sunnyside and Woodside, then up past LaGuardia Airport and Citifield, along the World’s Fair Marina promenade—on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike.

As I pedaled the promenade, I was really glad that I took an early ride.

The haze in the distance was a harbinger of the heat that would blast us later.

I have to admit that I’m following the news about the heatwave in the western part of the US and wondering whether it will reach us.  As hot (and humid) as it is here in New York, our weather is spring-like compared to theirs.

If that heat makes it here, I guess I’ll have to start my rides earlier.

An Early Morning Ride, Because I Could

Today I did something I haven't done in too long:  I took an early-morning bike ride, and I wasn't going to work.


There was a time in my life when, if such rides didn't constitute the majority of my cycling, they were at least routine.  On days when I worked in the afternoon or evening, I took such rides, and on weekends I got up early to take my long rides.


But I can't recall the last time I did such a ride.  Part of the reason is the work schedules I've had. I also can't help but to wonder whether the hormones and other changes have made me into more of a night person:  I stay and get up later than I used to.  At least I can say that, as often as not, I'm writing or doing some other necessary work when I'm "burning the midnight oil."


Today I made a point of getting out early.  For one thing, I wanted to avoid the heat this part of the world would experience later in the morning and afternoon.  But I also wanted to remember what it was like to take such a ride.


Back in the day, my early-morning rides were solitary or in the company of other hard-core cyclists, all of them male.  The latter kind left me pumped with adrenaline and testosterone:  If I went through a day cocky, it was a result of such a ride.  On the other hand, the early-morning rides I did alone left me feeling a peace with--if not within--myself and the world around me that I rarely, if ever, attained in any other way.


Today's ride--a little more than an hour and a half on Tosca, my "fixie," left me feeling contented and ready for the rest of the day.  That was definitely a good thing on a day which is not structured by outside forces.  I needed to do laundry (which I did), but there was nothing I absolutely had to get done today. But I managed to accomplish a couple of other things I could just as easily have put off. 


I say this, not to congratulate myself, but to show what a wonderful thing it is to be able to ride early in the morning without going to work.

Waking To A Heat Wave

Today the temperature reached 103 degrees F (about 40 C).  It seemed that even the places that normally seem like iceboxes--like the central building of the college, where, it seems, the air conditioning is turned on in June and kept on full-blast until September--felt soggy today.


I woke up later than I'd planned, and by the time I got outside, the air already felt as if a knife would stand up in it.  I was going to ride to work, but decided against it as soon as I stepped outside to go to the dry cleaner's.


Even people who don't normally complain about the heat were wishing that they were taking an Antarctic cruise.  


I've cycled in weather that's as hot as today's was, but couldn't see the point of riding today.  For one thing, there's an ozone alert, and while I suppose I could  wear a filter mask, I don't think that, given the sinus problems I've had, that doing any outdoor exercise in that heat and air would do me much good.


Plus, I no longer have the need I once had to prove myself to...whom?  People who didn't care?  Myself?  What, exactly, would have I proved to myself by taking a ride on a day like today.  Now, if I had to ride, that would be another story.


There were a few times when I had to ride in heat such as what I experienced today.  It was even more difficult when I wasn't expecting it, as when I was cycling through a mountainous area and found myself in a pass or valley.  The day after I had my life-changing encounter in St.Jean de Maurienne, an Alpine town a few kilometers from the Italian border, I rode down a mountain and into a valley where the thermometer on a bank in town read 40C.  I felt my skin burning, but I wasn't sweating.  That, I understand, is common at very high elevations, which tend to be drier than lower-lying areas.


But at least I knew it would be hot--if not this hot--today.  I just wish I'd awakened earlier.