Magic Spot Flowing

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.

Before I moved to Portland, I was fairly meh on bike paths/trails. I have no trouble cycling with car traffic, although on steep or windy roads, it makes me nervous if there is no shoulder or bike lane. Urban bike paths/trails are often poorly designed, especially when they are intended to be replacements for onroad facilities, or crowded with pedestrians when they are shared multi-use paths.

However, after two months here I am beginning to understand the purpose of such trails. It’s not that they don’t have the downsides that I listed above, it’s that they have a previously unforeseen advantage: fewer $#@%*#* stop signs.

If I want to go on a recreational ride out here, my options are different from Menlo Park. Back then, I could climb on my bike, ride less than a mile (encountering only three stop signs), and be on Sand Hill Road, a veritable freeway for bikes, and out into the hills (on shoulder-ful roads!) in less than three miles. What a paradise. And I recognized and fully enjoyed that paradise, knowing this was not the case for others, but not fully appreciating how annoying stop signs every other block (or more) are.

I am still exploring my options here and no doubt will eventually find some that work better for me, but at the moment I have to navigate a maze of stop signs, and then either 1) go straight up (okay, it’s only 6-8% grades, but that’s steep!); 2) (and) share the roads with heavier traffic than I’m used to, or 3) find a trail, which may be crowded, but, as previously noted, has no cars and many fewer $#@%*#* stop signs. And often is pretty as well.

Urban trails, how I have maligned thee, and how I repent, and thank the good works of previous Portland cyclists for the Waterfront, Springwater, Esplanade, and other trails that thread through Portland.

I’ve used my Zipcar membership twice now to drive east on I-84 and pick up heavy objects, then return to NW to transport them up to my apartment. One was on a weekend afternoon, the other was tonight. The first time, I looked for a parking spot near my apartment, but couldn’t find one, so I extended my reservation, parked the Zipcar back in its designated spot (NW 21st and Irving), and took two trips to carry my stuff back.

This time, I could see that parking was more available, but when I found an empty space at the corner of Lovejoy and 23rd (less than two blocks away), I figured that was as good as it was going to get, not expecting it to be possible to park on 23rd. When I turned the corner on foot, with two chairs already under my arms, I found that there was an empty space on the corner of 23rd and Kearney, across the street and a block closer to my apartment. I decided to repark the car there, to save myself carrying the remaining two chairs the extra block and a half, but I’m not even sure it was worth it.

Clearly, it would have been better not to bother looking for parking the first time, and to look longer the second time. But I haven’t yet figured out how to distinguish between the two types of occasions.

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.

I should have known this, but I didn’t: squib is a real English word, with a meaning that lends itself to the metaphorical extension used in the Harry Potter series.

Also, rodomontade and enjambment.

Today was the Providence Bridge Pedal.

I signed up not too long after I arrived in Portland, excited about the opportunity to ride so many of the bridges over the Willamette, especially those not ordinarily open or friendly to bike traffic, including the Fremont and Marquam bridges, which are freeways (I-405 and I-5 respectively).

I didn’t realize until much more recently that this is a huge, huge event. There is no cap on registration, and based on the numbers I heard this morning, more than 15,000 people were riding today. With that many people riding, it isn’t just the car-oriented bridges that are barricaded; virtually the entire route features blocked cross streets and at least one lane of traffic, sometimes more, reserved for ride participants.

You can find the route maps at the Bridge Pedal website, although perhaps not permanently. I signed up for the 11-bridge ride, 38 miles long and crossing eight bridges eleven times (crossing the Fremont, Marquam, and Broadway twice, and the St. Johns, Burnside, Ross Island, Hawthorne, and Sellwood bridges once each).

In addition to the 38 miles of the route I biked to the start via the Broadway bridge (so I crossed it three times today), about 3 miles, and home via SW Oak, SW Park, NW Couch, NW 14th, and NW Johnson (1.8 miles from the finish area at SW Ash and Naito Parkway), for a total mileage of 42.8.

Even with a lane or more of traffic blocked off and a staggered start, the ride was extremely crowded and speed was largely determined by the flow of traffic (and one’s skill at passing in crowds). I waited in a big pack to start (around 7:05 or 7:10), and it remained congested for most of the way, except a few times on long flats or downhills where I was able to go my desired pace. Because of the congestion, downhill speeds were generally limited, although I did get to 30 a few times when we had a whole road or freeway available.

The weather was cool and cloudy, which is fine for riding but less exciting for taking pictures. I mostly just rode but did snap a few pictures from the bridges — it was just too trippy to be riding my bike and seeing freeway exit signs, plus there were some nice views and interesting bikes (my favorite a tri-tandem with a child trailer). Even though I’m a little out of shape, the ride was well within my capacity, with only a few substantial climbs on the bridge approaches. I’m a little tired now and my legs and body feel well-used rather than exhausted. I could feel my W2W-acquired endurance kicking in after the first ten miles or so, as usual. I’m pleased my body has learned to respond that way, even though it makes me a little slow to start sometimes.

My favorite bridge was the Sellwood, where the approach went through a long stretch of neighborhood streets that were quiet and pleasant, and the view from the bridge was of the river, with downtown Portland rather far off. After crossing, the road wound through a more wooded area before returning to downtown. I also liked the St. Johns bridge for its attractive architecture, and a section of N Willamette Blvd for the best pavement of the entire ride.

In spite of the crowds, most everyone was careful and courteous, and I didn’t see any actual mishaps, though there were a few careless roadies and clueless slow people. I wish the organizers had done more to emphasize how to ride in large groups (slow to the right, shoulder checks before lateral movement, signaling stops), but aside from the lack of variety in the food and drink, that was really my only complaint.

I’m really glad I took the opportunity to do this even though biking in crowds is really not my thing. It was wonderful to have the chance to explore so much of Portland (even all the way down to Sellwood) without having to worry about car traffic, and fun to ride my bike on the freeway, thinking about how usually it’s so busy with cars. You can fit a lot of bikes on a freeway, is all I’m saying.

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.