I ride my bike all the time, but the most consistent riding I do is my commute. I ride the same way, day after day, for years. In New Orleans I rode between the Garden District and the Tremé so many times I knew the asphalt, intimately. I have spent years riding the Maryland Ave. cycletrack, right on Monument, left on Paca, right on Lombard. And then they moved the shuttle stops, and everything changed.
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I was worried I wouldn’t still like riding my bike around, and then I’d lose access to the part of myself that likes riding my bike around. And then I thought to myself, if you don’t like riding your bike around anymore, that’s ok! Things change! You’ll always have enjoyed that, it will always have made your life so much more interesting, and you can be on to the next thing. It’s like getting a tattoo–what if I regret it? But regret or not, it will always have marked who you were at that moment, and that’s a record worth keeping.
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I spent last weekend all by myself–the ladyfriend was visiting family in St. Louis. I love her so much, and I was also thrilled to have four full days in the house by myself to do whatever I wanted. Now, I do whatever I want all the time. I don’t have to wait for her to leave to sit on the couch watching terrible reality and eating a whole box of cookies, for example; she’s happy to share space with me as I am being myself, and I feel completely able to be fully myself, too. That’s my favorite part of this relationship. And yet, there’s something different about being truly alone, and I was so excited to have that time and space.
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I was in New Mexico celebrating my boo’s 40th birthday for a week and a half, and it was magical. Northern New Mexico is breathtakingly beautiful, and they put chile sauce on everything, which is such a great idea, and I didn’t want to leave at all. Except I did–I love Baltimore and my life here, and I am happy to be back on my bike.
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It’s summertime in Baltimore, and SoWeBo Fest is back after a two year covid hiatus. I slathered myself with sunscreen and hopped on the bike to check out the scene and take the new North Avenue cycletrack for the first time. North Ave is generally a death wish on a bike, but the new paint and concrete curb got me feeling all brave. I don’t trust anybody at any intersection, and I doubled down on that for this ride, slowing, stopping, waiting, waving my arms, yelling. I know that being seen is no guarantee, but it’s what I have.
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It’s spring break, and Monday’s weather felt like it. I spent my morning reading in bed before hopping online to email students reminders to turn in work and answer some other work-related emails before heading to Mount Vernon for a panel discussion about Baltimore for UMBC’s Alternative Spring Break (ASB) program. Ok, so far it’s not sounding like a break, but I knew an out-to-lunch-alone and a solo bike ride were on the other side of things, so even the work felt like a celebration.
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Tuesday was unusually warm, a balmy 41 degrees, so I knocked off work a bit early to take a bike ride in the sunshine they said we wouldn’t get. I headed west this time, and then south, heading toward Stricker Street to pay my respects to the three firefighters who died when the house at 205 Stricker Street collapsed on them. A fourth firefighter was injured, though he appears to be recovering. Pictures of these firefighters are all over the news, and they are devastating. So young, such smiles, so many people who loved them, killed doing a job that is entirely about helping protect others. Flags at half mast, a long line of fellow firefighters accompanying them from shock trauma to the medical examiner’s office, so many tributes pouring in from all over. It is just so sad.
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I wasn’t really feeling a bike ride yesterday, but I knew I’d feel better and sleep better if I got outside, even though it was a gazillion degrees and swampy out there. I was right. I headed down the hill and west and then up the hill again to Bolton Hill. I have some friends thinking about moving there, and I wanted to see how long it would take me to get there if they end up doing that. An important part of any moving calculus: how long will it take Kate to get there on her bike? For this one, about 17 minutes.
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In truly thrilling news, my sister got a bicycle! I remember trying to get her on my old cruiser bike in New Orleans ten years ago, and she started panicking with fear after less than two revolutions of the pedal. Much like our dad bailed on teaching us to drive after one or both of us freaked out, I took the bikes back in and we moved around New Orleans on foot instead.
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Monday was a windy mess, but I was frustrated and full of feelings, so I headed out on my bike anyway. After ice, wind is probably my least favorite weather condition on a bicycle, because a big gust can push me off center, and it just doesn’t feel safe. I only had a couple of those moments on this ride, so I call it a win.
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What I Saw Riding My Bike Around Today 