Magic Spot Flowing

This morning I went on the Portland ByCycle Autumn Adventure to Vancouver and back via the two I-Bridges.

In a previous entry I described the ByCycle rides thus:

These rides are awesome. They start after work and end before dark, are hosted by incredibly friendly and knowledgeable city staff, and explore Portland’s bicycle infrastructure and nifty places.

This was a special ride, happening on the weekend rather than after work, and longer than the after-work rides: 25 miles rather than 5-10. Since it says 25 miles right on the description, and I knew perfectly well it was four or five miles from my apartment to the starting point, you’d think I’d be pretty clear that it was going to be a longish ride. But somehow I wasn’t: I kept thinking 20 miles, because it says 2 hours and the usual PBC pace is ~10mph.

Furthermore, yesterday in Portland it was in the eighties and sunny — a perfect, warm, late summer day. But today proved true to the “Autumn” epithet of the ride. Even now at 3:30, it’s only 68 degrees. This morning it was 58, and raining. I also somehow had a hard time believing it was really going to be wet and yucky out there, even though it said so clearly in the forecast.

So my brain was not really ready, and the adventure was more adventurous than I anticipated. I was wearing long shorts and a short sleeve jersey and jacket, and my summer gloves. My jacket was soaked through before I even arrived at Peninsula park, although I was doing fine staying warm. But after we started out at the group’s slower pace, in a continuing rain, and headed out toward the Columbia river with its associated wind, I got colder and colder, and my left thumb actually went numb — I couldn’t feel it properly when I rubbed against it. It became clear that I should have been wearing leggings and fall/winter gloves, and possibly arm-warmers as well. (My legs were warm enough, but most likely keeping them warm made it hard to make enough heat to keep my immobile hands warm.)

Fortunately, one of the wonderful Transportation Options staff managing the ride, Janice, lent me a pair of winter gloves that she wasn’t wearing. I was infinitely grateful for these as we went up the I-205 path: a bike path sandwiched in between two four-lane freeway segments. The path itself was like a normal bike path (blocked off with a low fence, two-way and about 5 feet wide in each direction) but was very, very wet, and very, very loud: probably one of single the least pleasant cycling experiences I’ve ever had. I felt deaf and headachy for a while afterward.

After we got over to Vancouver, it stopped raining for the most part, and with the gloves I felt more comfortable and enjoyed the paths we took along the river. Unfortunately, one person broke a chain, and then another later took a spill on some diagonal railroad tracks. I was very impressed with how well the staff handled everything — they were totally calm and cheerful about it. I was able to offer some band-aids that I often bring with me on rides (though no neosporin; it was in the cabinet at home).

On the way back, it finally cleared up and I was mostly dry (except for my poor sopping wet gloves, socks and shoes) by the time I got back. As the Ecotrust Hot Lips Pizza was on my route back, I decided to stop there and dry out and feed myself. Yum.

The whole ride was quite fascinating even aside from the weather. The first section was through low-traffic streets in North Portland, and then in an area west of the airport that seemed like it was almost in a different city/decade — quiet, semi-rural roads and houses. Very nifty. Then Marine Drive and the Marine Drive path to the airport and the I-205 path — a narrow bike lane, and a nice wide multi-use path, but very wet and windy.

The approach to the 205 path was quite well signed and designed — the street crossing of Marine Drive wasn’t signalized, but it was signed, with a light-activating button, and junctions were fairly clearly marked. Getting off on the other side was the same way — the path came down, veered left, and abruptly we were in a quiet neighborhood full of trees, then on a quiet street.

The paths on the Vancouver waterfront were impressive, wide and smooth, with new condos behind them and lots of trees, bushes, and other plant life. We went through several parks and saw lots of signs for the path showing that a lot of effort was recently put into it to revive the waterfront area.

The I-5 path was a totally different story. Although plenty of signs (similar to Portland’s green bike route signs, with distances and directions) directed us there, once we reached it we had to cross the street in a random and nearly unmarked spot. The path itself is set to one side of the bridge, and is one-way on that side (I assume there’s another side but didn’t see it). It’s a shared bike/ped path that is not even wide enough for a bike to pass a pedestrian unless the pedestrian ducks to one side when a pillar isn’t in the way. Still, the experience was less inherently unpleasant than the 205 path (quieter, because you’re to one side and have some steel supports between), and the bridge itself is certainly more attractive — like the Hawthorne Bridge on crack, kinda. (I can’t believe anyone wants to replace it with a 12-lane monstrosity, but that’s another story. ) But when you get to the other side, the access is TERRIBLE. Words are inadequate to convey its TERRIBLENESS. You have to get off the path, go around in a confusing way, cross the street a few times, ride on the sidewalk, cross the street again, and finally you’re on a path, which then curves around confusingly again. I have no idea where we were, and I’m so glad that I did it with a group led by someone who knew the way.

The fact that it’s so completely easy to take I-5 in a car to Vancouver (I’ve never done it but I can tell you how to do it from my place) and so completely confusing to navigate and/or unpleasant to do it on a bike is a classic example of how our transportation system is set up to encourage driving. It’s easy to drive; on a bike, it takes dedication to navigate and a certain amount of chutzpah to deal with the unpleasant noise and limited facilities on offer.

The freeway-crossings part of this was sufficiently educational that I’m glad I went, even if I did get wet and cold. I do like riding in the rain — I just don’t like doing so at 10mph when I’m underdressed. Can I suggest an optional, but planned, mid-route coffee break next time?

I’ve been wearing my FiveFingers around town (mostly to work and back) this week and last week, on and off. Flat concrete remains a tough surface for me to walk on. Every time I start again, I feel like I’ve gone back to square one, with the hurting heels. But there have definitely been moments when I’ve gotten everything in sync and walking feels totally different but very comfortable. It’s the same general principles as I listed before — shorter strides, more hip movement, better foot usage. But sometimes it only seems to ‘help’ (I still feel uncomfortable, but less so) and sometimes it all lines up and everything feels just right.

It reminds me a bit of what used to happen when I took Feldenkrais lessons — everything would get lined up for a while and moving would feel really cool and comfortable, then it would go back to normal. Line up, go back, line up, go back. I’m not sure I ever got any of the neural rewiring from Feldenkrais to really ‘take’, probably mostly because I didn’t keep practicing it — it was easy enough to keep moving the way I was moving (and the serious problem that I was trying to address through Feldenkrais and other movement therapies, my RSI, was eventually addressed through another method entirely). There’s a great temptation to go back to the habitual patterns of movement because the transition is slow, difficult, and sometimes uncomfortable. But knowing that from Feldenkrais I’m more willing to keep trying with the FiveFingers until it finally clicks in (for good, or at least for most of the time). Or it doesn’t. But it’s a fun experiment.

For now though, my heels are sore: back to my Keens.

When I was in the Bay Area this weekend I happened to walk in to a shoe store that carries Vibram FiveFingers. I’ve been looking for a store that carries these for a while, since seeing them on friends’ feet intrigued me, and took the opportunity to try them on. I decided to buy a pair of Sprints (the version with a strap system but an open upper) and have been breaking them in — or really, breaking my feet into them.

I’ve always liked going barefoot, to the extent that I’m (in)famous at my office for not wearing shoes in the office. I mostly wear sandals (for years, Tevas; these days, my Keen Newports) unless it’s cold outside. So the VFFs are a natural choice for me, especially since everyone I knew who had them raved about them. My only reservation was that I do not like toe socks (or flip flops), because I don’t like the “things between my toes” feeling. I worried that the Vibrams would be like toe socks in creating that feeling, and I also wanted to be sure they would fit well.

However, it turns out that for me at least, the VFFs don’t activate the “things between my toes” feeling, perhaps because I feel more like each toe is occupying its own space, rather than “something is preventing my toes from occupying the same space”. Trying them on at the store, they did feel like being barefoot, or wearing socks. So light and comfortable. But able to be worn anywhere! So I was persuaded.

So far I’ve climbed Telegraph Hill in them, worn them on the BART and in Oakland, driven in them, worn them hiking, and worn them to work in Portland. I haven’t worn them for longer than two or three hours at a time yet, following the suggestion given by the box insert.

I felt tiredness and some soreness after the Telegraph Hill experience, but was very impressed with the traction and the ease of climbing and descending the steep SF sidewalks (I never felt worried about slipping as I sometimes do with regular shoes) and transitioning between surfaces (sidewalks, grass, stairways, dirt). After the hike (two miles on packed, gravelly dirt), my feet felt tired and beaten up, with a few sore spots. The inner sides of my big toes seem to be rubbing a bit on a seam that’s in that area; I think it’ll go away once I’m used to it, but it’s not ideal, and it seems to be worse on the right because the seam is less smooth in that shoe. My heels also felt a little rubbed, which is a common problem for me with new shoes. I think my heels are shaped a bit oddly because I can’t wear some shoes at all because they rub my heels. The Sprints have a little ridge made of strap fabric with a pull tab back there that supports the heel, so I’m hoping I’ll get used to that as well.

I’ve really enjoyed wearing them so far, but they do take getting used to. I’ve had to pay a lot more attention to where I was putting my feet, especially on the hike, and the gravel on the trail felt painful. My feet also felt hot when we paused on some exposed, sunny ground to take in a view. Some grit got caught in the shoes, and I had to take them off to remove it, which was a challenge on the trail with no place to sit down.

I really have to walk differently in them, particularly on flat concrete which I find to be the hardest surface for me to walk on comfortably. I tend to be a heel-striker, and if I do that in the VFFs my heels hurt right away, which is good because it provides immediate negative feedback. My strides are shorter, and my hips move more. It seems to help if I think of the distribution of weight as following my “footprint pattern” — heels, outsides of the foot, forefoot, toes. Any soft, uneven ground is much more fun to walk on, and I can feel my feet adjusting as if I were barefoot, but without the worry of stepping on something painful.

I’m excited to see how I feel as I get more used to them.

On uploading my photos from SE Sunday Parkways and a recent trip back to Albuquerque, I found that there were ten albums in my photos that I hadn’t yet uploaded to the Gallery.

This has been rectified and the gallery lightly reorganized to highlight the additions.

Special notice:
Otter whaa?, Iconic San Francisco Bay, Ascending the Mosaic Stairway, Perfect poppy, In the box, It’s raining in the sky.

Later, when I seriously turned by attention to the whole question of manipulation, I began to understand that one should not use either a person’s strength or his weakness against him. As I see it now, the only course that is ethically justified is an appeal to strength — not in order to throw one’s opponent by means of his own strength, but on the grounds that reliance on strength will only work for the good….
I do not advocate a philosophy of blind and naive trust. Occasionally it is clear that a person in a position of power will, if he can, block or destroy something of great value. In such circumstances it is necessary to be politic; this means, essentially, using the strengths and weaknesses of other persons or groups for one’s own ends. In the same way, in wartime, a nation plays on the weaknesses — and even on the strengths — of the enemy. But there is always a price to pay later, an erosion of the capacity for trust, a kind of damage that persists after the war and makes the reestablishment of working relationships much more difficult. –Margaret Mead, Blackberry Winter pp. 130-131

This quotation jumped out at me as I was reading tonight because it resonated with something I’ve been thinking about in general, which is how people work together in groups, and also with something I was thinking about today. For various reasons I don’t want to identify the particular situation, but I found myself in this situation behaving ‘politically’, using the influence of someone higher up than I because I knew from past experience, I could get that person on ‘my side’, and it struck me how far that was from straightforward and communication. I wasn’t being dishonest, but I was using my honesty in a calculated — manipulative — way.

I had a discussion with a friend recently about subtle types of dishonest communication, including ‘faux surprise’, when you act as if it has only just occurred to you that a person isn’t doing something you think they should be, when in fact you have been thinking about mentioning it to them for some time and your approach is deliberate rather than spontaneous. It occurs to me that that’s also a type of manipulation — your goal is to get them to do what you want, but you aren’t straightforwardly admitting that. You pretend to be innocent when you’re really being politic.

I particularly appreciate the way she talks about the “erosion of the capacity for trust” that results from this kind of interaction. My actions today were effective, but trying to imagine being on the receiving end of them, I find that I am annoyed with myself, and assign to myself — as I did at the time to some the others in the interaction — a motive other than finding the most effective way to solve what is clearly, based on its recurring nature, a genuine problem. Doing what I did wasn’t my first action, but I really wish that my second action had been to think of something different to do, instead of following the pattern that over time has been established over this issue.

Xtracycle on Twitter today pointed me to a great blog post from Doug about his seven years as a car-free commuter (in Minnesota, no less).

I mentioned to someone recently that it’s been nearly ten years since I owned a car. (Actually, I’m not sure I ever technically owned a car, since the car I drove in high school most likely still belonged to my parents at the time that I was driving it. But I was its primary driver.) I hadn’t realized it had been that long until I thought back over it and remembered that the accident that totaled our 1987 Acura Legend happened in August of 1999, and it’s now August of 2009.

I don’t think my story is as impressive as Doug’s. For most of the time, I haven’t lived anywhere with an icy/snowy winter, and I haven’t bike-commuted to work every day. First I lived on campus at Rice for two years, then rode a mile or two on my bike each day from the Violin House^* to campus, then went back to living on campus for a year. One summer I borrowed a friend’s car.^**

For the summer after college, I drove the family car when I went to work or out. Then I lived in Edinburgh, Scotland, within 15 minutes walk of the Linguistics building at the university, for two years. Edinburgh has an excellent bus system which I frequently took advantage of, or I walked a lot; I didn’t ride during those years. (Cycle on the left side? No way! :)

When I came back, I drove the family car again for a few months before I moved to the Bay Area. In the Bay Area, I starting cycling again, often to work (and even in winter rains), but I usually took the train part of the way. I frequently rode along with other people in cars to get places that had proven to be annoying or impossible to get to via transit or cycling.

Now, in Portland, I walk and ride the bus a lot as well as cycling, and I (finally) have access to Zipcar. I’m not a frequent user, but it’s nice to know I can haul stuff or drive to remote destinations myself, without depending on the kindness of others. Of course, if I had an Xtracycle I could do more hauling, but I don’t see hauling four kitchen chairs even with an Xtracycle. I love Zipcar for being 90% of what Doug describes a car as:

Even though I didn’t drive much, having a vehicle sitting there, just in case I needed it, provided my mind with a feeling of security. It provided a mode of transportation that was convenient, easy, and available all the time. Peace of mind.

Zipcar claims that each of their cars takes 20 cars off the road (they ask when you sign up if you will be getting rid of your car). Pretty amazing, and a great way forward for letting go of your car without letting go of all that peace of mind.

Even though I’m much more impressed by Doug than I am by myself, I don’t think this is a contest of who’s the most impressive. I certainly don’t do it to prove anything or make milestones, and he clearly doesn’t either. We’re both happier when we’re not behind the steering wheel of a car, and for me that is and will always be the main reason I don’t drive much. I hope in ten years I’ll still be car-free and that even more people will find it a viable option for themselves, and discover their joy in a different kind of freedom from the kind a personal motor vehicle offers.

^* The house in West U I lived in during my junior year of college. With a lot of violinists, hence the name.
^** Partly as a favor to him so he didn’t have to drive it back to Oregon. And I locked myself out of it once — in the middle of Tropical Storm Allison.

The Great Heat Wave of ’09, or whatever it will end up being called, was pretty miserable in my apartment, and left me feeling rather out of sorts and tired due to lack of good sleep. I was going to work later and staying later to avoid the worst of the heat, hiding in restaurants, cafes, and even a movie theater, freezing my rice pillows, and wearing a wet Buff everywhere for evaporative cooling purposes. And still sizzling, or scorching, or baking, or whatever the weather calls for when it’s 106 outside. 106!

However, Portland being the marvelous city it is, my cranky irritability has disappeared along with the heat, to be replaced by tasty cauliflower, lazy strawberry-rhubarb compote, marvelous people, and beautiful sunsets that I can actually appreciate instead of being distracted by futzing with the angle of the fan to optimize the cooling-off of my apartment.

The final item in the Comcast saga is that I overpaid them by $5.42 and they issued me a check for it, which of course they directed to my old address so it took a while to arrive. But at least dealing with them is over for now. Thank you, neighbor with open wireless.

Yesterday I took the check to the bank, along with another one, to deposit them. Usually I make deposits in my credit union account, but these were low-denomination checks so I decided to deposit them through Bank of America. This is the first time I’ve used one of their new ATMs that can scan your checks, determine their amount, and issue you a receipt with the check image on it. It’s pretty cool. You don’t need a deposit slip or envelope and you don’t even have to enter the amount if the check can be OCRed properly. One of my checks was, but the Comcast one wasn’t. It showed an image (zoomable!) anyway so I was easily able to enter the amount based on the image, even though the check was no longer in my hand. The receipt printed both checks with small but recognizable images (this is optional if you don’t want it, but I thought it was cool).

Big businesses can be annoying to work with, and Bank of America demonstrated this recently when I wanted to change my address. They offer the ability to do that online — sensibly enough, since you can do pretty much everything else with your account online — so after I moved, I did. However, for some reason that I still don’t understand, they refused to complete the online address change, claiming that I had changed my address too recently. That’s utter nonsense, since I lived in the same place for three years and only updated my address once to correct the spelling (yes, I spelled my own address wrong — the street name has two variants that are both common and I chose the wrong one).

It took quite a bit of back-and-forth to correct this, including a visit to the branch where they informed me that since it’s a California account, they can’t change it on the Oregon computer system (WTF? Really?) and it only ended when I described my address change history (or rather, lack thereof) in detail and threatened to move on if they continued to be clueless. Finally I got someone responding to my emails that seemed to realize there was no actual problem, so she changed it for me.

But they do have cool tech.

I’ve had a lot of moments lately where I’m just absurdly happy to be in Portland…the grinning-in-the-street, singing-randomly sort of happy. And I think about blogging about whatever just happened and then something else awesome happens and I forget.

Awesome things:
I climbed Mt. Tabor on my bike (yesterday). There was nothing particularly impressive about my execution, but I did it. Sources suggest that this means I climbed about 600 ft, which is about the same as I used to do from home to Woodside. I think I’m a bit out of shape.

Actually, I know I’m a bit out of shape, because while biking to the Tin Shed on Alberta (where I sat out on a patio, ate tasty squash ravioli, and listened to a sax trio while talking to interesting Internet people) I was passed by people riding upright city bikes with front baskets and people towing trailers. People in Portland are for serious with their commuter riding.

I went on several Portland ByCycle rides, the first one to sweets (frozen yogurt, ice cream and other tastiness), the second to the waterfront, and the third to “quirky parks”. These rides are awesome. They start after work and end before dark, are hosted by incredibly friendly and knowledgeable city staff, and explore Portland’s bicycle infrastructure and nifty places.

Everyone in Portland is So Nice. The way I’ve described the difference between this and other places is that in my experience, people are generally polite everywhere I’ve been, but in Portland, they don’t just do it, they mean it. People ask how you are and talk to you in the street. And being around so many nice people has the effect of creating more niceness in me, which feels great.

I went to a classical music concert (recital?) in a pub. Classical Revolution PDX. Classical music + relaxed atmosphere = win.

Tonight I went to Drinking Liberally, for three reasons: it was convenient (the Lucky Lab NW is two blocks from work), I was interested in the experience, and the invited guest was Michelle Poyourow of the BTA. I’ve been quietly waffling about what to do about continuing my advocacy work now that I’ve left SVBC to its own devices (I haven’t technically left it, since my membership will remain active until February of next year, but I’ve certainly become at best an inactive member). There are many organizations and many projects in Portland, and they don’t all get along, but I was quite won over by Michelle’s realistic yet optimistic take on things, so I’m planning on seeing if I can offer them my time, interest, and experience in the bikes-on-transit arena.

The overall experience was fun too — I suspect that I’m not really engaged enough in national political stuff to keep up with the usual DL attendees, but I definitely found them congenial and interesting.

And then there are the small awesomenesses: walking out of my office and looking up to see sunsplashed hills and fluffy white clouds; sunset captures and crisp afternoon views from the bridges; and boysenberries from Food Front and basil from the farmer’s market.

And last but not least, sitting in my bay window at night and watching the stars in the sky and lights in the houses.

My Sunday in Seattle was slightly less ad-hoc than Saturday. I spent the day with my best friend from graduate school and her husband and brother- and sister-in-law. Our first stop was Cafe Flora, which is I think better than the Yelp reviews suggest (for those of you who automatically go Yelp any restaurant someone mentions). It probably doesn’t exceed Greens, but it’s nearly on par — perhaps better for some items — and much cheaper. The apple-cinnamon rolls were fantastic, their rosemary lemonade and cranberry ginger drinks were yummy, and the sides of potatoes with the brunch dishes were absolutely perfect. There were a few oddities — the beignets were dry, and the “Bloody Flora” had a few too many pickled vegetables for nearly anyone’s taste. My tomatoes included the core, which seemed careless to me.

Afterward we went to REI (the flagship store — huge!) and then on to Discovery Park, which was fantastic. I neglected to bring my camera on our walk/hike, and missed a wonderfully rainy view out over the Sound (we missed the rain, but it was raining out there and it came it not long after we got back) and some beautiful purple flowers with water droplets from the earlier rain. Upon further research I find that they’re sweet pea flowers! Very nice. We also saw an owl and a chipmunk. What a great park. Now that I’ve seen Seattle’s park I’m doubly motivated to explore the one practically on my doorstep (Forest Park).