When A Favorite Bike Ride Is A Disaster Zone

I think I just figured out the reason (or, at least, a reason) why I've been tired and have had bouts of crankiness and melancholy.  I haven't been on a ride of more than 20 miles in more than a month.  

In Point Lookout, NY.

On the 21st of October, I rode to Point Lookout; the following day, I did a ramble with Lakythia through parts of Brooklyn and down to the Rockaway Peninsula, including Breezy Point. That was the weekend before Sandy struck, and the weekend after the Tour de Bronx.

The destination of many of my rides.

Also, part of the reason for my sadness is having helped, in small ways, the storm's victims in those areas.  Before I went, I had a hard time imagining those places I associate with cycling pleasure as scenes of devastation.  Now, having been to the Rockaway peninsula--one of the most ravaged areas--I'm having a hard time seeing it as the route of a pleasurable bike ride.  That is not the same thing as having memories of riding there:  Of course I will recall many moments and days of serenity and joy.  Perhaps I will have such times there again.  But, for now, I almost feel guilty when I think about riding those seaside streets and lanes again.

From The Daily Beast

I have no doubt that, in time, roads will be cleared and repaired and, perhaps, boardwalks rebuilt.  If homes can be fixed, their owners will; if not, perhaps new ones will be built.  People who live in places like Breezy Point and Rockaway Beach don't give up on them, at least not easily.  I'm sure many will be there if and when I ride there again.   Even though many of them simply would not live anywhere else, I can only wonder how they'll see their native land, if you will, in light of Sandy.  And--perhaps selfishly on my part--I wonder how it will feel to pedal one of my Mercians there again.

Commuting Among The Ruins

Today I commuted along the route that includes the promenade along the World's Fair Marina.  I went there, in part, to see the condition of the path.  It was surprisingly good.

However, the shore it skirts didn't fare quite so well.

Nor did the Marina.

Still, I was able to commute with Vera.  In short, I could still ride my bike.  There are some things for which I am grateful.

Who Rides The Lanes?

Whatever their flaws, dedicated bike lanes seem to increase the number of cyclists, particularly commuters and utility cyclists.  At least, that's what I'd conclude from my own observations, however representative they may or may not be.

I, along with WE Bike, are going to do some research on the topic.  We'd like to know not only whether (and, if so, by how much) the number of cyclists increases after bike laned are constructed or set aside.  Also, if the number does indeed increase, we'd be curious to know what types of cyclists are increasing in number.  Are they mainly commuters, recreational cyclists or some other kinds of riders?  Also--as you might expect from WE Bike--we'd like to know whether the number of female cyclists increases as a result of lanes opening.  

From Cyclr

Why does that last question matter?  Well, even though the number of female cyclists has certainly increased, the vast majority of pedalers one sees, at least in this city, are male.  Are there actual or perceived barriers to cycling for women (and girls) that are, at least partially, eliminated when lanes are opened?

Going To The Gym

Although there was a time--in my days as Nick--when I was lifting weights and doing other kinds of training in addition to my cycling, I don't think I ever became a "gym rat."  In fact, I have not spent much time in gyms since I was in college.  The atmosphere in most is oppressive, albeit in different ways:  Some gyms are simply physically depressing, others were little more than glorified singles bars and still others--the ones used mainly by young men--were just terrifying to me.  

In other words, I never felt the safety or solitude that I have on my bike.  Riding a stationary bike in a gym never had the same appeal for me that the open road or trail has.

I guess other people feel something like I feel.  That might be the reason why someone invented this:

From The Bicycle Forest

I guess the inventor of this figured that if one couldn't bring a bike into the gym, one could instead bring the gym to the bike!

Real Good Fall Twilight

It seems--at least in this part of the world--that the colors of October are celebrated more than those of any other month.

Reverence for the hues of that month are certainly just.  However, some of what I saw on today's ride left me absolutely stunned.

I saw this on the wooden bridge in the Randall's Island nature preserve:

Oh, but the visual feast didn't end there.  Barretto Point Park was closed, probably because of flood damage and weakened trees that might fall at any given moment.  However,through the fence, I saw this:

and this:

I know that the hues of autumn sunsets are particularly rich.  But lately it seems the skies are outdoing themselves.  I wonder whether it has anything to do with the recent storms.

My ride today was short.  But the name of this park, about three miles from my place, says it all:

This piece of real estate is in Rego Park, a Queens neighborhood that is currently home to thousands of emigres--many of whom are Jewish-- from Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Russia.  It gets its name from the Real Good Construction company, which developed most of the neighborhood in the early 20th Century.

If you are visiting the neighborhood for the first time and it seems familiar, you've probably read Art Spiegelman's graphic novel Maus.  The scenes with his aged Polish Jewish father are all set in the neighborhood, where Spiegelman grew up.

Anyway, as you can probably tell, today's ride was short but Real Good.