I am so glad that I wrote the previous post; without it, I would not be able to share with you all how much better things have gotten.
The kids sleep. Jasper dresses himself. The magazine is humming along-- finances remain tight (subscribe!) but our procedures and relationships are more and more streamlined.
We are on the bike more, though have also been relying on transit for many of our adventures. And we have settled into a nice routine: Wednesdays we go to the Central Library and stay downtown all day, Thursdays are for music lessons and the park, Fridays we pedal up to NoPo to see our friends up there.
It's great.
So, I'm shaking it all up.
Change is inevitable, and one thing that has become very clear is that Jasper is more-than-ready for preschool, our pleasant routine notwithstanding. Heck, Kes's favorite story is about "my first day of school." And me? I'm ready for a full-time job.
I never intended to be home with the kids long-term, though it was fortunate that our circumstances allowed me to stay home through their baby-dom. But Kestrel is less and less a baby every day: she is weaned and working on potty training. She says all sorts of startling things. She runs, and is working on jumping. She's a full-fledged toddler.
What's next?
The kids are enrolled at a Montessori School on the west side with a start date between mid-April and early-May. I am applying for jobs like a madwoman, with a focus on positions in Project Management, Corporate Communications, or High-Level Administrative work.
If the fates are on my side, by fall you will be hearing about the travails of dual-career car-free parents.
Am I open to getting a car if my dream job demands it? Of course. But I would love to find a way to go on as we are: cheerfully multi-modal, and car- (and insurance- and gas- and maintenance-) payment free.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Challenges
It has been an exciting, challenging, difficult few months.
I founded a magazine, a new literary magazine for parents. It is called Stealing Time, and it is wonderful. If you want to read about parenting without being told how to parent; if you want to share in someone else's experience without being told what to buy; if you want to consider the "and" rather than always the "either-or" of parenting life; if you just like really good stories-- go and subscribe. You'll love it.
But the reason I'm posting tonight is this: I've been riding less. Feeling slow and wheezy when I do. Gaining weight. Losing muscle.
We still don't have a car, and it's not like I'm driving more. Instead: we've been leaving the house less. Having fewer adventures.
The magazine is a huge amount of work, and I have a limited amount of childcare to manage it. The rest gets done at night. Kes isn't sleeping through the night, and Jasper has been having a bad night at least once a week as well. My lifelong insomnia has been acting up. In short: I've been getting catastrophically too little sleep. And one of the places that has been affected by that is my physical well-being, and my ability to be a super cool bike mama.
At the same time, the kids are hard right now, too. Kes is adamant about having exactly the right clothes on before we go out (at 17 months!) and will scream and cry if she doesn't have the *right* hat, the *right* shoes, and so on. And Jasper is an angry nudist; we fight every morning about changing his diaper, about putting on a shirt, about putting on pants, and so on-- not to mention, before going out, having the same fight about coats and hats and gloves and raingear. I've taken to letting him leave the house without, and shoving them into my bag for if he wants them later. So far, he's held his ground, and hasn't yet caught his death. But all of those things make leaving the house harder, and paired with my fatigue and short temper, are sometimes enough to keep us indoors altogether.
I'm not writing to whine, I swear. I know that it is hard right now and I know that it will get better. I have been thinking about enlisting some of my kickass fellow bike moms in getting my ass back in gear, but am afraid that I'm not up for even that, yet. I am so, so tired.
I know that, for folks just getting into this bikey world, it can seem very all-or-nothing. Some people simply "are" bike people, with boundless energy and strength and tolerance for the cold-and-wet; and some people aren't. I'm writing to say: It's fuzzier than that. Being bike-based doesn't mean I always want to ride. Or that I'm always in top form. Or that the bike is always easy.
But I know that a lot of these challenges would still be challenges if we got around differently, except: I'd be getting even less exercise. I'd probably be having even less fun. It would be harder to connect with my kids when we *are* out and about.
I love my bike, even when I'm too tired to ride it. And I hope to be back in form soon. Kes's sleep is better and better. The magazine is creeping back from the edge of a financial cliff (and will do even better if you subscribe!). And the bike will be there, waiting, when I feel more myself again. There is a path from here to there. But right now, it's just hard.
(now, to go get some sleep...)
I founded a magazine, a new literary magazine for parents. It is called Stealing Time, and it is wonderful. If you want to read about parenting without being told how to parent; if you want to share in someone else's experience without being told what to buy; if you want to consider the "and" rather than always the "either-or" of parenting life; if you just like really good stories-- go and subscribe. You'll love it.
But the reason I'm posting tonight is this: I've been riding less. Feeling slow and wheezy when I do. Gaining weight. Losing muscle.
We still don't have a car, and it's not like I'm driving more. Instead: we've been leaving the house less. Having fewer adventures.
The magazine is a huge amount of work, and I have a limited amount of childcare to manage it. The rest gets done at night. Kes isn't sleeping through the night, and Jasper has been having a bad night at least once a week as well. My lifelong insomnia has been acting up. In short: I've been getting catastrophically too little sleep. And one of the places that has been affected by that is my physical well-being, and my ability to be a super cool bike mama.
At the same time, the kids are hard right now, too. Kes is adamant about having exactly the right clothes on before we go out (at 17 months!) and will scream and cry if she doesn't have the *right* hat, the *right* shoes, and so on. And Jasper is an angry nudist; we fight every morning about changing his diaper, about putting on a shirt, about putting on pants, and so on-- not to mention, before going out, having the same fight about coats and hats and gloves and raingear. I've taken to letting him leave the house without, and shoving them into my bag for if he wants them later. So far, he's held his ground, and hasn't yet caught his death. But all of those things make leaving the house harder, and paired with my fatigue and short temper, are sometimes enough to keep us indoors altogether.
I'm not writing to whine, I swear. I know that it is hard right now and I know that it will get better. I have been thinking about enlisting some of my kickass fellow bike moms in getting my ass back in gear, but am afraid that I'm not up for even that, yet. I am so, so tired.
I know that, for folks just getting into this bikey world, it can seem very all-or-nothing. Some people simply "are" bike people, with boundless energy and strength and tolerance for the cold-and-wet; and some people aren't. I'm writing to say: It's fuzzier than that. Being bike-based doesn't mean I always want to ride. Or that I'm always in top form. Or that the bike is always easy.
But I know that a lot of these challenges would still be challenges if we got around differently, except: I'd be getting even less exercise. I'd probably be having even less fun. It would be harder to connect with my kids when we *are* out and about.
I love my bike, even when I'm too tired to ride it. And I hope to be back in form soon. Kes's sleep is better and better. The magazine is creeping back from the edge of a financial cliff (and will do even better if you subscribe!). And the bike will be there, waiting, when I feel more myself again. There is a path from here to there. But right now, it's just hard.
(now, to go get some sleep...)
Saturday, April 14, 2012
New Yuba Setup, April 2012
Today was a big day in our family bike world: we implemented two new kid-carrying configurations. The first is a new IT Chair for Dave's Brompton, which lets him carry Jasper, but I'll let him post on that little adventure.
And the second: the end of the boxes on the Yuba, at least for now. Kes is big enough to ride up front, so Jasper moved to a Yepp Maxi on the deck. I'm sad to lose such a distinctive part of their babydom, but glad to be 50 pounds lighter on the bike.
Since there are no babies in our immediate future, I think we'll be selling the boxes. Let me know if you're interested!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Flying
49 a video by Civilized Conveyance on Flickr.
Jasper is an airplane.
Nota bene: it is never recommended that you leave your kid in a kid seat when you're not at the bike. This is not safe. Do as I say, not as I do, and all that.
P.S. Wheeeeee!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Biking in Labor
“Hey babe??”
“Yeah?’
“If everything goes ok, I think I’d like to ride to the birth center.”
“You sure?”
“I think so. If everything’s normal. Yeah.”
“Ok.”
This conversation, held around my thirty-sixth week of pregnancy, might strike some as a bit… insane. While we have no car, neighbors and friends had made it quite clear that they were available day or night to drive us. A taxi had taken me to have my first baby on a sodden Thanksgiving morning just nineteen months before—no reason not to call them again. Nonetheless, at forty weeks and four days I lurched onto my bike at a few minutes past five and, best friend at my side, pedaled through the light chill of the midsummer morning to go have a baby. And I didn’t want it any other way.
My contractions were a little less than five minutes apart. At a mile and a quarter with moderate hills, the ride would take about 20 minutes. That’s four contractions to deal with on the road, I reasoned. Maybe five. Easy.
I got on the bike immediately following a contraction, but the next one came sooner than expected. There was no one else on the road, and as I felt the sensation crest I breathed deeply, thought about the rotation of the pedals, and spun effortlessly as I let it move through me. Barely a waver. One down. My husband trailed us on the cargo bike with the birth bag.
Two more contractions passed in the same way, and then I saw the hill ahead. There are bigger hills in the city, steeper and longer ones, but this one was plenty daunting under the circumstances. I stopped at a stop sign, and started a contraction as I started rolling again. I reached the base of the hill just as that one faded. Slowly, deliberately, I started to climb. I found my lowest gear. I controlled my breathing. I spun to the top. As the road leveled, a fifth contraction overwhelmed me. I wobbled toward a parked car, and my friend gasped as I regained my course. And then we were there.
Hey! I rode my bike to the birth center! Should I hurry inside before the next contraction comes, or pause for a victorious picture? Pride won out, but barely, and the picture that we snapped bears witness to that next contraction. Five hours later, Kestrel Gayle Proctor came into the world, born underwater, sweet and healthy and ravenous.
Barring bad luck, pregnancy is a time of health and vigor. A time that, in spite of incessant hunger or poor appetite or relentless heartburn or weeks of nausea, can be spent fully inhabiting one’s body. Forces tell us it is not: doctors and parents and partners stress our fragility and vulnerability, insisting that pregnancy should be defined by a long list of things to be avoided, sacrificed, and feared. They instruct healthy women to “take it easy” and engineer drugged labors or dangerous surgeries. They rob us of a chance to know and embrace our vital power as women. They are the voices of a society that, for all its progress, still sees women as weak. A society invested in keeping us from finding our strength.
Like natural childbirth, riding a bike for transportation is not best for all women. For those who need them, I’m grateful that there are hospitals and doctors and NICUs, just as I am glad that people who need cars and buses and taxis to get around can use them. But I’m also grateful not to have needed a hospital to give birth, and I am grateful each day that I don’t need an engine to get from here to there. Empowering women to take control of their bodies and their births improves their lives. So does empowering them to be their own engines.
The dominant transportation paradigm robs healthy women of a daily chance to know their full strength, just as the dominant birthing paradigm keeps them from discovering in themselves the unique power required to deliver a baby. In both cases, the state of “normal” is one that emphasizes weakness: an overdependence on technology to do what we are told we cannot. I reject those paradigms. Riding my bike every day is a choice that celebrates the fact that I can, that I am healthy and strong and fierce. In perhaps this respect only, Kestrel’s birth day was no different from any other.
---
"Our Bodies, Our Bikes" is an issue of Elly Blue's Taking the Lane zine. This essay was first published there. If you haven't seen them, I highly encourage you to check out the whole Taking the Lane set. The newest issue just got funding on Kickstarter!
---
(Thank you to Kori Beyer for riding along, for attending the labor, for being wonderful... and for the photos above.)
“Yeah?’
“If everything goes ok, I think I’d like to ride to the birth center.”
“You sure?”
“I think so. If everything’s normal. Yeah.”
“Ok.”
This conversation, held around my thirty-sixth week of pregnancy, might strike some as a bit… insane. While we have no car, neighbors and friends had made it quite clear that they were available day or night to drive us. A taxi had taken me to have my first baby on a sodden Thanksgiving morning just nineteen months before—no reason not to call them again. Nonetheless, at forty weeks and four days I lurched onto my bike at a few minutes past five and, best friend at my side, pedaled through the light chill of the midsummer morning to go have a baby. And I didn’t want it any other way.
My contractions were a little less than five minutes apart. At a mile and a quarter with moderate hills, the ride would take about 20 minutes. That’s four contractions to deal with on the road, I reasoned. Maybe five. Easy.
I got on the bike immediately following a contraction, but the next one came sooner than expected. There was no one else on the road, and as I felt the sensation crest I breathed deeply, thought about the rotation of the pedals, and spun effortlessly as I let it move through me. Barely a waver. One down. My husband trailed us on the cargo bike with the birth bag.
Two more contractions passed in the same way, and then I saw the hill ahead. There are bigger hills in the city, steeper and longer ones, but this one was plenty daunting under the circumstances. I stopped at a stop sign, and started a contraction as I started rolling again. I reached the base of the hill just as that one faded. Slowly, deliberately, I started to climb. I found my lowest gear. I controlled my breathing. I spun to the top. As the road leveled, a fifth contraction overwhelmed me. I wobbled toward a parked car, and my friend gasped as I regained my course. And then we were there.
Hey! I rode my bike to the birth center! Should I hurry inside before the next contraction comes, or pause for a victorious picture? Pride won out, but barely, and the picture that we snapped bears witness to that next contraction. Five hours later, Kestrel Gayle Proctor came into the world, born underwater, sweet and healthy and ravenous.
I’d ridden my bike throughout pregnancy. I’d toted my toddler around town most days. I’d raced the cyclocross season through my first trimester, battling nausea and fatigue for the chance to get muddy and sweaty in a field of beginner women laughing and cursing and hauling ass. I’d planned and led Kidical Mass rides, playing mother duck to fleets of slow-moving two- and three-wheeled ducklings as we explored the city and asserted the right of kids and families to a place on the roads. So with all that behind me, why not ride my bike in labor?
Barring bad luck, pregnancy is a time of health and vigor. A time that, in spite of incessant hunger or poor appetite or relentless heartburn or weeks of nausea, can be spent fully inhabiting one’s body. Forces tell us it is not: doctors and parents and partners stress our fragility and vulnerability, insisting that pregnancy should be defined by a long list of things to be avoided, sacrificed, and feared. They instruct healthy women to “take it easy” and engineer drugged labors or dangerous surgeries. They rob us of a chance to know and embrace our vital power as women. They are the voices of a society that, for all its progress, still sees women as weak. A society invested in keeping us from finding our strength.
Like natural childbirth, riding a bike for transportation is not best for all women. For those who need them, I’m grateful that there are hospitals and doctors and NICUs, just as I am glad that people who need cars and buses and taxis to get around can use them. But I’m also grateful not to have needed a hospital to give birth, and I am grateful each day that I don’t need an engine to get from here to there. Empowering women to take control of their bodies and their births improves their lives. So does empowering them to be their own engines.
The dominant transportation paradigm robs healthy women of a daily chance to know their full strength, just as the dominant birthing paradigm keeps them from discovering in themselves the unique power required to deliver a baby. In both cases, the state of “normal” is one that emphasizes weakness: an overdependence on technology to do what we are told we cannot. I reject those paradigms. Riding my bike every day is a choice that celebrates the fact that I can, that I am healthy and strong and fierce. In perhaps this respect only, Kestrel’s birth day was no different from any other.
---
"Our Bodies, Our Bikes" is an issue of Elly Blue's Taking the Lane zine. This essay was first published there. If you haven't seen them, I highly encourage you to check out the whole Taking the Lane set. The newest issue just got funding on Kickstarter!
---
(Thank you to Kori Beyer for riding along, for attending the labor, for being wonderful... and for the photos above.)
Monday, February 27, 2012
Donut Pajama Birthday Ride!
The thing about house guests is that you want to be able to go places together. As we'd prefer to go by bike, it is most fun if our house guests can bike too. This is easy enough for average-sized adults: we have spare bikes, locks, and helmets that they can use. But for the very tall or very small, things get a bit more tricky.
We had house guests with 8-month-old twins last week. They were on a longer multi-modal trip, including Amtrak from their home in Mountain View to Seattle and then back down to Portland and a lot of public transport-- they didn't even bring car seats along, which I think was a pretty bold move. We borrowed a Winther Wallaroo from Splendid Cycles, and they came out for Kidical Mass one day, then for my birthday pajama-donut group ride the next. It was exciting to get to share bikey Portland life with them.
We also had to borrow a tall-seatpost Bike Friday for the other adult in the couple, as they are both WAY taller than we are. Fortunately, our downstairs neighbor could help us out.
Thanks to the always-charming Kip Pettigrew for child-wrangling, pajama-rocking, and these lovely photos.
We had house guests with 8-month-old twins last week. They were on a longer multi-modal trip, including Amtrak from their home in Mountain View to Seattle and then back down to Portland and a lot of public transport-- they didn't even bring car seats along, which I think was a pretty bold move. We borrowed a Winther Wallaroo from Splendid Cycles, and they came out for Kidical Mass one day, then for my birthday pajama-donut group ride the next. It was exciting to get to share bikey Portland life with them.
We also had to borrow a tall-seatpost Bike Friday for the other adult in the couple, as they are both WAY taller than we are. Fortunately, our downstairs neighbor could help us out.
Thanks to the always-charming Kip Pettigrew for child-wrangling, pajama-rocking, and these lovely photos.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Kestrel Gayle Proctor
Is she here? Oh yes, 8 weeks tomorrow. Did she come home by pedicab? Yup, Ryan Hashagen of Portland Pedicabs once again pedaled us and our baby home. Has she ridden in the Yuba? Yep, first ride was up to see Trek in the Park, at 3 weeks 2 days. Is life a beautiful, chaotic mess? Oh, oh, oh. Yes it is.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Oh, Yeah...
Sharp-eyed Sara noticed the elephant in the last post-- I haven't blogged yet that I'm pregnant! Of course, it's pretty hard to hide if you are actually anywhere near me... I'm well into the third trimester. Baby's due July 4.
In other major news... we bought a house, and moved into it by bike. I'll write about how our wonderful community came out to schlep our stuff soon(ish), but until then, check out Andy's post & pictures over on the Civia Cycles blog.
It's been a busy year so far here at chez Civilized Conveyance. Life will resume it's regularly scheduled order... eventually. Hell, who am I kidding. We may never see normal again. Thanks for hanging around while we figure things out.
In other major news... we bought a house, and moved into it by bike. I'll write about how our wonderful community came out to schlep our stuff soon(ish), but until then, check out Andy's post & pictures over on the Civia Cycles blog.
It's been a busy year so far here at chez Civilized Conveyance. Life will resume it's regularly scheduled order... eventually. Hell, who am I kidding. We may never see normal again. Thanks for hanging around while we figure things out.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
My Portland Life
Upon realizing that I had left our Ergo carrier at the midwives', I hopped on the bike with Jasper and pedaled up the neighborhood greenway to pick it up. From there, it was only a few blocks to Voodoo Donuts, so we made a snack run for donuts & milk. Then we pedaled back toward home, stopping to buy fair-trade, organic cotton sheets from our locally-owned homegoods store to fit our new locally-built bed and locally-fabricated mattress, to be delivered by bike tomorrow afternoon.
Aaah, Portland life. Today, living the dream... or perhaps, the cliche? Still, loving it.
But beware Portlanditis, gentle readers. I can't be held responsible should you be ground into hipster chum-- the secret, of course, to delicious northwest salmon.
Aaah, Portland life. Today, living the dream... or perhaps, the cliche? Still, loving it.
But beware Portlanditis, gentle readers. I can't be held responsible should you be ground into hipster chum-- the secret, of course, to delicious northwest salmon.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Kidical Mass PDX: Bikes & Banjos, Pedals and Puppets
February's Kidical Mass ride felt very un-February, indeed: beautiful sunshine, temps in the 50s, and a great turnout. 50-ish riders left from TaborSpace this afternoon, and together we meandered from North Tabor to Laurelhurst Park, then down to Sunnyside School Park (where there was a sweet pig, Poppy, and chickens to visit!), and then back to TaborSpace for a great puppet show by the Mudeye Puppet Company about reducing waste, and a hand-clapping, sing-alonging banjo performance by Paul Silveria, aka Professor Banjo. And thanks to donations from Clever Cycles and our new status as part of Portland's Bike Trains program, we were able to offer super-discounted tickets!
Along with us on the ride were Rep. Ben Cannon and Rep. Tobias Read, with kids in tow, who were great to chat with about kid bike bans, local speed laws, trailer safety standard bills, and other burning kids-on-bikes issues. It was great to have them riding with us, and I hope we'll see them on future rides!
It was also lovely to have Julian Davies (of totcycle.com) and his sweet bikey kiddos Drew and Luc, down from Seattle. They were trying out a Nihola trike and seemed to very much enjoy it-- I'm sure Julian will write up a full review sometime soon.
Ben McCloud's photos from the ride are on our facebook page here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=50071&id=190167827674698. I'll post more as I find them!
Along with us on the ride were Rep. Ben Cannon and Rep. Tobias Read, with kids in tow, who were great to chat with about kid bike bans, local speed laws, trailer safety standard bills, and other burning kids-on-bikes issues. It was great to have them riding with us, and I hope we'll see them on future rides!
It was also lovely to have Julian Davies (of totcycle.com) and his sweet bikey kiddos Drew and Luc, down from Seattle. They were trying out a Nihola trike and seemed to very much enjoy it-- I'm sure Julian will write up a full review sometime soon.
Ben McCloud's photos from the ride are on our facebook page here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=50071&id=190167827674698. I'll post more as I find them!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
HB 2228
There is proposed legislation in Oregon to prohibit carrying children under six on bicycles or in bike trailers. The text of the legislation is here: http://www.leg.state.or.us/11reg/measures/hb2200.dir/hb2228.intro.html. BikePortland's amazingly quickly obtained interview with Rep. Greenlick is here: http://bikeportland.org/2011/01/12/rep-greenlick-says-safety-concerns-prompted-child-biking-bill-45890.
Of course, I have a deep emotional response to this legislation, and to the justifications Greenlick gives for it, but I don't think it is useful for me to rage just yet. So, I'm working to stay calm and conversational, and so should you. Rep. Greenlick says he wants to start a dialogue. So, let's dialogue. You can reach him at rep.mitchgreenlick@state.or.us. And, if you are an Oregon resident, you should also write to your own representative. Find them by entering your address here: http://www.leg.state.or.us/findlegsltr/.
If this bill gains political traction in the coming months, we will organize. We will rage. We will do much more than write letters. But for now...
My letter is below. Please add your voice.
Of course, I have a deep emotional response to this legislation, and to the justifications Greenlick gives for it, but I don't think it is useful for me to rage just yet. So, I'm working to stay calm and conversational, and so should you. Rep. Greenlick says he wants to start a dialogue. So, let's dialogue. You can reach him at rep.mitchgreenlick@state.or.us. And, if you are an Oregon resident, you should also write to your own representative. Find them by entering your address here: http://www.leg.state.or.us/findlegsltr/.
If this bill gains political traction in the coming months, we will organize. We will rage. We will do much more than write letters. But for now...
My letter is below. Please add your voice.
Representative Mitch Greenlick
900 Court St. NE, H-492
Salem, OR 97301
rep.mitchgreenlick@state.or.us
Dear Representative Greenlick:
I am writing with deep concern regarding your proposed bill,
HB 2228, prohibiting the carrying of children under six on a bicycle
or in a trailer.
My husband and I choose not to own a car, and when I
discovered I was expecting our first child, I did a lot of research
regarding carrying children by bicycle. What I discovered was, first,
that there is very little data regarding the safety of children on
bikes, and second, that there is copious frightening data on the risks
posed to children carried in automobiles. Furthermore, studies show
that children who are transported primarily by car, rather than by
foot, bike, or bus, are significantly more likely to struggle with
obesity. They are less likely to aspire to ride bikes in adulthood.
And children who grow up near our car-choked freeways are more likely
to suffer from asthma and, according to one recent study, autism. For
all of these reasons, I was willing to move ahead even with limited
children’s bike safety data: reducing our time in cars seemed the best
choice not only for our personal welfare but also for the welfare of
children in general. My son has been carried primarily by bicycle
since early infancy.
Like every parent, I am always aware of my child’s safety.
And I would welcome more data about the risks children face while
being carried by bicycle—in fact, I would gladly participate in such a
study. But scientific studies should begin with grant proposals, not
proposed legislation. HB 2228 frightens and alienates me and the many
other parents in this state who transport their children by bike.
Please reconsider submitting this bill, or any legislation on carrying
children by bicycle, until research can be done on the actual risks
and benefits of this practice.
Finally, since 2010 I have led a monthly family bike ride
in Portland called Kidical Mass. Kids on this ride are carried in
various bike seats, cargo bikes, as well as riding their own bikes
alongside their parents. Families that attend range from casual
weekend riders to daily kid-carriers like myself. To promote dialogue
on this issue, I would like to invite you to join us on this ride.
Our next outing will be this Saturday, January 15 at 1:45 pm, meeting
at Oaks Pioneer Church in Sellwood (455 SE Spokane). If you can’t
join us this month, our ride information is always posted at our
website, http://kidicalmasspdx.org. I hope you can join us.
Respectfully,
Katie Proctor
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
January Kidical Mass: See Beautiful Sellwood!
No clever theme this month, mostly because I caught the plague over New Years and had no brain cells to invent one. So: costume theme is warm and dry, bike attire is well-lit. We hope to see you there!
Let’s go biking in Sellwood! Meet at Oaks Pioneer Church on January 15 at 1:45, the ride will roll out at 2. We’ll make a tour of this great Portland neighborhood, maybe stopping for hot drinks and fun with park swings and ducks. Ride is just under three miles and will be a loop. Please dress for the weather, wear helmets, and don’t forget your lights for the ride home! Bring a few dollars in case we stop for hot cocoa.
More info? http://kidicalmasspdx.org
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Cyclocross!
It's painful. It's expensive. It's hard on equipment, on clothing, on bodies. It takes a ton of time.
And, it turns out, we love it.
Without any training beyond our daily rides, Dave and I decided to try our hand at cyclocross this season. With one race left locally, we'll be sad to see our weekends clearing up soon.
What to say about cyclocross? The race format, as many laps as you can do in a 45-minute limit, means that it's pretty much a sprint the whole time. Those 45 minutes of racing leave me with searing lungs, aching quads, and, inevitably, a bruised shoulder from carrying the bike.
My favorite thing? The mud. While my technical skills (i.e. ability not to fall down in the mud) could use some work, I absolutely adore the pure, child-like feeling of riding straight through mud puddles, of feeling sloppy wet trails throw mud into your face, your teeth, up your back. I love that when you fall down, it's not a scary high-speed crash onto pavement, but instead (usually) a tottering, oh-no-I'm-gonna-fall spill into-- you guessed it-- more mud. When else in our adult lives is it ok to ride, run, or splash in mud puddles?
So, it turns out I'm not great at cyclocross. Not terrible, but just mama biking isn't enough to get me into the sort of shape I'd need to be in to win races. And we wanted to get by with minimal equipment costs, leading to a series of unfortunate mechanical failures that scuttled some of my best race starts. The first day at Astoria I got to the front of the pack quickly and held onto the top 15 or so through some tricky bits... and then my chain dropped and got tangled around my bottom bracket. I couldn't wrestle it out, so shouldered the bike and jogged out my last half-lap. Sad. But I had a great start, that day.
Dave, on the other hand, had some great races. Sadly, the beginner men are the first to race with an 8:50 am start time, so there are many fewer photos of him than of me. But he had two top-10 finishes this season, and came out 18th overall in the beginner men field. Not shabby.
The rhythm of our race days is a bit rough: up early to get to the race-- Dave slips out before Jasper and I are even awake to pick up a zipcar. Then I get up and ready, putting pre-packed race bags in the car and clipping in the car seat-- then wake the baby, change his diaper, and tuck him into the car, often still in jammies. When we get to the race-- almost always later than we'd planned-- Dave dashes off to register & warm up, while I swap Jaz into daytime clothes, buckle on the baby carrier, organize the diaper bag, jackets, umbrella, and Jasper's beloved cowbell (for cheering the racers on), and we dash off to watch the race start.
Watching cyclocross is a great time. The racers are all working so hard, and because there are usually 4 or 5 laps, you get to see them figuring out how best to manage the tricky bits of the course as the race goes on, and kibbitz with your fellow spectators on how you'd take that hill/turn/barrier. The racers are also extremely suggestible, and so a good time can be had by offering advice. You stand there, bundled and warm, and yell: "Come on, blue jersey! Take this guy on the turn! He's lagging, you can take him!" And more than half the time, he perks up, bears down, and passes the guy. It's awesome.
Or, if you're under 1, you just ring your cowbell as much as you can. And holler at the top of your lungs. And smile at dogs. And that's pretty fun too.
After Dave's race, it's naptime, so Dave changes into un-muddy clothes and straps on the baby carrier, rocking and bobbing Jasper to sleep while he recovers from his race. We'll sometimes find some lunch, catch up with friends, or leave the race entirely at this point, but the most important thing is that everything gets calm for us, even as the action continues on the racecourse.
Two hours later, Jasper's up, and it's time for me to register and warm up. We might watch some Kiddie Cross, and usually the single speed race that immediately precedes mine.
Kiddie Cross is great. If he's mastered the skuut, Jasper can play next year, like this guy:
And then, bam, I'm racing. And nothing else is happening in my head; only the monologue of a oxygen-deprived brain. Which, most races, spends a lot of time trying to get me out of the situation. "You could stop now," says my brain, as I gear up to pass some racers on a straightaway. "No one would hold it against you," says my brain, and I'm off the bike, shouldering it, running up a muddy hill with little creeks coming down. "You could say you had a mechanical, and just stop here in these trees," whispers my brain, as I slalom through a forested singletrack, bouncing off slick rocks. "Or your could hit a tree, but not that hard, and then drop out. Everyone crashes sometimes." My thinking brain wants out, most races. It is the enemy.
The bliss of racing comes to the degree that I can transcend that insidious thinking brain. Because the kind of thinking that that part of my brain does isn't useful while I'm racing. Telling that part of my brain to go faster is useless-- it replies "why should I?" every time. Going faster, digging deeper, climbing harder, is a matter of not hearing that voice, of tapping into my body's potential and not holding back for later.
And then it's just pain. Heart racing. Muscles straining. Mud everywhere. Focus. Speed. Finding a fast line through the mud and the rocks and the potholes and the gravel. And sometimes, there is clarity. Everything slows, even as I'm moving my fastest. I can see the best line as if it were marked in lights. On the run-ups, suddenly I see the next footstep, and the next, and don't worry about stumbling, because I know, I simply know where to go.
And then it's over, and there are hugs, and sometimes there's so much mud on my face that it frightens Jasper and I need to splash it off in a mudpuddle before we can be friends again. And I zip down my jersey and, still gasping, still covered in mud, I find a log or bench or to sit right on the pavement and we nurse, a sort of balm for my being both mentally and physically away, for being in my own, baby-free space for so long. And then we watch the elite race start, yelling and cheering and ringing the cowbell. And then it's naptime again, and we head to the car to buckle in and drive home.
Sorting the muddy things. Washing the muddy things. Cleaning the zipcar. Returning the zipcar, once Jasper wakes up from his carseat nap. And then a slow evening of recovery, eating, finding bruises, stretching muscles, popping joints, and remembering bits and pieces of the race to tell each other. And sleep, as hard and long as Jasper allows (which is rarely as hard or long as our bodies really need).
It's a way of using bikes I've never experienced. It's not practical, or useful, or sensible, or dignified. It is silly and sweaty and frivolous. And I'm so glad we decided to try it out.
HUGE thanks to the photographers who come out every week and brave the muck to shoot great photos. Photos here from: vitus1997, richtheneighbor, monovich, shetha, and mommypants. THANK YOU!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Kidical Mass!!
I've been spamming the heck out of local bikey and mama media for two months, but forgot to blog it: Civilized Conveyance is now bringing you Portland's Kidical Mass!!
Basically, it went down like this: I was sitting around lamenting the end of Sunday Parkways season, and more generally, feeling that there needed to be more opportunities for bikey families to get out and about, sniff each others' rigs, collectivize traffic riding skills and watchful eyes for little ones on their own bikes, and just plain have fun together.
And I was jealous of the Kidical Masses going down in Eugene, Seattle, and elsewhere. So I sent out some emails trying to figure out what had happened to Portland's Kidical Mass, and the general consensus was: it just petered out. And it didn't look like I'd be stepping on any toes by picking up the torch. So I did!
Our first ride was in October, and was zombie-themed. We gathered on the South Park Blocks just as the rain started to fall, and pedaled our way up to Pioneer Square through the drizzle. Pioneer Square was filled with zombies mustering for the annual Zombie Walk, so there were lots of interesting (and sort of scary!) people to watch while we waited for the main event: hundreds of zombies simultaneously dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller.
After the dancing, we headed back to the bikes to loop back to our starting point. But on our way there, we were stopped by the zombie walk-- and the zombies took pictures of us!! When the stream of undead paused, we rolled on through and moseyed back to the park for lollipops and chatting.
Thanks to Jonathan at BikePortland for the great pictures!
This coming weekend, we'll ride again: This month, it's the Tour de Pie! We'll meet at Ladd's Circle Park at 2:45 pm, rolling out at 3 to explore some places for pumpkin pie, pizza pie, and fried pie here in SE Portland. And here's the best part: HotLips is donating free pizza for the kids! This route is about three miles, and has one big climb (can't really avoid it in this part of town, but we'll go slow). We'll ride rain or shine, but maybe a little less far if it's pouring. We'll stop as a group for stop signs and stop lights, and will always regroup if we get separated. We'll keep a pace that accommodates our littlest riders. And we'd love to see you out there.
Basically, it went down like this: I was sitting around lamenting the end of Sunday Parkways season, and more generally, feeling that there needed to be more opportunities for bikey families to get out and about, sniff each others' rigs, collectivize traffic riding skills and watchful eyes for little ones on their own bikes, and just plain have fun together.
And I was jealous of the Kidical Masses going down in Eugene, Seattle, and elsewhere. So I sent out some emails trying to figure out what had happened to Portland's Kidical Mass, and the general consensus was: it just petered out. And it didn't look like I'd be stepping on any toes by picking up the torch. So I did!
Our first ride was in October, and was zombie-themed. We gathered on the South Park Blocks just as the rain started to fall, and pedaled our way up to Pioneer Square through the drizzle. Pioneer Square was filled with zombies mustering for the annual Zombie Walk, so there were lots of interesting (and sort of scary!) people to watch while we waited for the main event: hundreds of zombies simultaneously dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller.
After the dancing, we headed back to the bikes to loop back to our starting point. But on our way there, we were stopped by the zombie walk-- and the zombies took pictures of us!! When the stream of undead paused, we rolled on through and moseyed back to the park for lollipops and chatting.
Thanks to Jonathan at BikePortland for the great pictures!
This coming weekend, we'll ride again: This month, it's the Tour de Pie! We'll meet at Ladd's Circle Park at 2:45 pm, rolling out at 3 to explore some places for pumpkin pie, pizza pie, and fried pie here in SE Portland. And here's the best part: HotLips is donating free pizza for the kids! This route is about three miles, and has one big climb (can't really avoid it in this part of town, but we'll go slow). We'll ride rain or shine, but maybe a little less far if it's pouring. We'll stop as a group for stop signs and stop lights, and will always regroup if we get separated. We'll keep a pace that accommodates our littlest riders. And we'd love to see you out there.
Civilized Conveyance Blogs Again
Oh, hi there!
That's a bit awkward, isn't it. The two-month silence, I mean.
Let's pretend that never happened.
That's a bit awkward, isn't it. The two-month silence, I mean.
Let's pretend that never happened.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Jasper's Yuba Walk-Around
Often, this summer, we've gotten home from an outing where Jasper wore himself out, and fell asleep on the way home. These are moments where I am so grateful not to have to tend a baby in a car, or try to sneak the seat out and into the house; instead, I pull the bike into the shade of our fruit-laden fig tree, grab a novel, a glass of water, a snack, and enjoy the end of of the bike-nap in peace. Bliss.
Last week, when Jaz woke up from such a nap, he was squirmy right away-- so I set him down behind the bike to do some investigating. After more than seven months spent inside the baby bike, he's finally mobile enough to inspect it on the outside.
I think he approved.
And if THAT didn't get you your baby fix, there's lots more on Flickr.
Last week, when Jaz woke up from such a nap, he was squirmy right away-- so I set him down behind the bike to do some investigating. After more than seven months spent inside the baby bike, he's finally mobile enough to inspect it on the outside.
I think he approved.
And if THAT didn't get you your baby fix, there's lots more on Flickr.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Salinas Shoutouts
Salinas, California. Hometown of John Steinbeck, Fresh Express Lettuce, the California Rodeo, and me. When I was visiting last week, we spent a lot of time driving, mostly to Monterey and back-- much like my high school years. But I also got a small taste of the years before that, before I or my friends could drive, when bikes were the best way to get out for groceries or ice cream.
My folks have been making bikes a bigger part of their lives in the last year or so, and especially since their last visit to Portland in the spring. On this visit to Salinas, we helped my dad pick out a new city bike, a Raliegh Roadster, which fits him beautifully and should suit his needs for something fun and practical to zip around town on.
We had lots of visiting to do and not much time, so we decided Saturday afternoon that we'd host a Sunday brunch for people to stop by and meet the baby. And rather than drive out for groceries, my dad and I rode bikes! We brought backpacks for our stuff, as neither Bridget's Brompton nor dad's Raleigh have proper cargo capacity (yet). And as we were riding, I remembered how beautiful Salinas can be for bikes.
It's a flat city, lying smack in the center of a broad river valley, with mountains to the east and west. The streets are broad and, thanks to the mild weather, in excellent condition. Most houses have their own parking, so there are radically fewer cars parked on the streets than here in Portland. And if you stay off the main roads, there really isn't much traffic early on a Sunday morning.
While we were out and about in Salinas, I saw a few other glimpses of a burgeoning bike culture that made me smile.
There was the kid on the brakeless fixie jetting helmetless down S. Main, his electric green rims matching his electric green bar tape and bandanna as he ran a whole series of red lights. Shame on him, sure, but he could have come straight out of Portland, and I have to admit he made me smile. I hope he learns some manners and I hope he doesn't get killed, but I'm kind of glad he's there.
There's Bobcat Bikes, the LBS in Salinas, which carries a nice range of practical bikes along with gorgeous sport machines, and has sensible and friendly mechanics who are always happy to get us what we need (even when it's only a multitool and some lube).
There's the increasing number of roadies riding Hwy 68, which has been repaved since I left and looks like a gorgeous trip, though it still has more traffic than I'd like. Having spent high school bussing and driving that road twice a day, it's inspiring to see people using it with their own power. Someday soon I'd like to ride it myself.
And there's the family I saw out by Hartnell Park one evening while my mom, Jaz & I were out playing. Two parents, both on swoopy-tubed white cruisers, a bright green I-bert seat on mom's bike, a grinning kid riding between her handlebars. Everyone in helmets. I don't know who you folks are, but seeing you gave me real hope for the country.
This revolution doesn't just live in Portland. It is spreading, and quickly. Where have you seen bikes that you didn't expect them?
My folks have been making bikes a bigger part of their lives in the last year or so, and especially since their last visit to Portland in the spring. On this visit to Salinas, we helped my dad pick out a new city bike, a Raliegh Roadster, which fits him beautifully and should suit his needs for something fun and practical to zip around town on.
We had lots of visiting to do and not much time, so we decided Saturday afternoon that we'd host a Sunday brunch for people to stop by and meet the baby. And rather than drive out for groceries, my dad and I rode bikes! We brought backpacks for our stuff, as neither Bridget's Brompton nor dad's Raleigh have proper cargo capacity (yet). And as we were riding, I remembered how beautiful Salinas can be for bikes.
It's a flat city, lying smack in the center of a broad river valley, with mountains to the east and west. The streets are broad and, thanks to the mild weather, in excellent condition. Most houses have their own parking, so there are radically fewer cars parked on the streets than here in Portland. And if you stay off the main roads, there really isn't much traffic early on a Sunday morning.
While we were out and about in Salinas, I saw a few other glimpses of a burgeoning bike culture that made me smile.
There was the kid on the brakeless fixie jetting helmetless down S. Main, his electric green rims matching his electric green bar tape and bandanna as he ran a whole series of red lights. Shame on him, sure, but he could have come straight out of Portland, and I have to admit he made me smile. I hope he learns some manners and I hope he doesn't get killed, but I'm kind of glad he's there.
There's Bobcat Bikes, the LBS in Salinas, which carries a nice range of practical bikes along with gorgeous sport machines, and has sensible and friendly mechanics who are always happy to get us what we need (even when it's only a multitool and some lube).
There's the increasing number of roadies riding Hwy 68, which has been repaved since I left and looks like a gorgeous trip, though it still has more traffic than I'd like. Having spent high school bussing and driving that road twice a day, it's inspiring to see people using it with their own power. Someday soon I'd like to ride it myself.
And there's the family I saw out by Hartnell Park one evening while my mom, Jaz & I were out playing. Two parents, both on swoopy-tubed white cruisers, a bright green I-bert seat on mom's bike, a grinning kid riding between her handlebars. Everyone in helmets. I don't know who you folks are, but seeing you gave me real hope for the country.
This revolution doesn't just live in Portland. It is spreading, and quickly. Where have you seen bikes that you didn't expect them?
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Join Team Full-Time Parent!
Today starts the BTA's Bike Commute Challenge. While Dave is impressively striving to ride to Hillsboro and back each day (36 miles round trip, and over a mountain!), I've decided to start Team Full-Time Parent and chronicle our baby miles over there.
Are your 'commutes' to play-dates, doctor's appointments, shoe shopping and the grocery store? Join Team Full-Time Parent and log your miles with us!!
Head to the Bike Commute Challenge site and enter Full-Time Parent as your company. While non-Portlanders won't be in the running for the BTA's fabulous prizes, I think it'd be fun to see y'all on there.
Are your 'commutes' to play-dates, doctor's appointments, shoe shopping and the grocery store? Join Team Full-Time Parent and log your miles with us!!
Head to the Bike Commute Challenge site and enter Full-Time Parent as your company. While non-Portlanders won't be in the running for the BTA's fabulous prizes, I think it'd be fun to see y'all on there.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Last Leg Was Made By Bike
Yesterday was a massively multi-modal day. Jasper and I had been in California for a week with my folks and were doing our first solo-travel on the trip home. We started the day with a walk to visit my kindergarten teacher (she was suitably impressed) and my mom's third graders. Then, after a flurry of packing and napping, we got in the car with my mom to drive to the airport.
We had a rocky start to the flight, as Jasper wanted to stand up during taxi and takeoff, but once the seatbelt sign was off I had him strapped into the baby carrier and, after some pacing and bouncing in the aisle, asleep. He woke up just as we landed.
Off the plane I threw backpack and messenger bag on my back, baby still on my front, carseat strapped to wheelie bag, and we headed for the train. On the train we chatted with visiting (only slightly lost) tourists and a homeless man enjoying the good weather. We hopped off at Lloyd Center, and before long Dave pulled up on the Yuba with the Brompton thrown in as cargo. The Brompton came out, the luggage got strapped down, Jasper got buckled in, and we rolled home, Portland style. It's really good to be home.
We had a rocky start to the flight, as Jasper wanted to stand up during taxi and takeoff, but once the seatbelt sign was off I had him strapped into the baby carrier and, after some pacing and bouncing in the aisle, asleep. He woke up just as we landed.
Off the plane I threw backpack and messenger bag on my back, baby still on my front, carseat strapped to wheelie bag, and we headed for the train. On the train we chatted with visiting (only slightly lost) tourists and a homeless man enjoying the good weather. We hopped off at Lloyd Center, and before long Dave pulled up on the Yuba with the Brompton thrown in as cargo. The Brompton came out, the luggage got strapped down, Jasper got buckled in, and we rolled home, Portland style. It's really good to be home.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Commute
For the month of July, Jasper is serving as a training baby for the Northwest Montessori Institute's Assistants to Infancy class. This means that he gets to go to a beautiful prepared environment every afternoon, play with some teachers-in-training, stare at some other babies, shake rattles along to songs played on guitar and autoharp, learn to eat politely at a table, and generally have a great time. It also means that he and I have a daily commute, 2.5 miles each way on the Yuba.
The scheduling is tight. The observation period is from 1:00 to 3:30, and it takes us a little over 25 minutes to make the trip, as it is all uphill. Jasper can only go about three hours between naps before he melts down entirely, so in order to make class go well I try to let him sleep as long as possible beforehand, waking him at 12:30, changing his diaper, and putting him straight into the bike. This, of course, structures the morning as well: he needs at least a two-hour nap, so we have to be up by 8:30 so that he can go down by 10:30 and be successfully up at 12:30. He does great at school, attention hog that he is, and loves staring at the students who stare at him. But by 3:30 he's usually hitting his limit, and he invariably cries when I put him back into the bike. Every day so far he's fallen asleep in the bike on the way home, which I then roll into the shade of our front yard fig tree and get myself some much-needed lunch while I wait out the rest of the nap.
We've been doing it for nearly two weeks so far, and I love the routine. The rush out the door is frustrating, and I'd like to learn to do it more smoothly, but I'm really enjoying having so much structure in our days. Plus, having a standard daily commute is making me noticeably stronger-- before this, I'd go longer than 5 miles when we rode, but we weren't riding every day.
What I didn't expect is that, in spite of delegating Jasper's care durning the school period, I'm still not getting much other work done. It turns out that watching Jasper and the other babies play with help from their teachers is pretty absorbing.
The scheduling is tight. The observation period is from 1:00 to 3:30, and it takes us a little over 25 minutes to make the trip, as it is all uphill. Jasper can only go about three hours between naps before he melts down entirely, so in order to make class go well I try to let him sleep as long as possible beforehand, waking him at 12:30, changing his diaper, and putting him straight into the bike. This, of course, structures the morning as well: he needs at least a two-hour nap, so we have to be up by 8:30 so that he can go down by 10:30 and be successfully up at 12:30. He does great at school, attention hog that he is, and loves staring at the students who stare at him. But by 3:30 he's usually hitting his limit, and he invariably cries when I put him back into the bike. Every day so far he's fallen asleep in the bike on the way home, which I then roll into the shade of our front yard fig tree and get myself some much-needed lunch while I wait out the rest of the nap.
We've been doing it for nearly two weeks so far, and I love the routine. The rush out the door is frustrating, and I'd like to learn to do it more smoothly, but I'm really enjoying having so much structure in our days. Plus, having a standard daily commute is making me noticeably stronger-- before this, I'd go longer than 5 miles when we rode, but we weren't riding every day.
What I didn't expect is that, in spite of delegating Jasper's care durning the school period, I'm still not getting much other work done. It turns out that watching Jasper and the other babies play with help from their teachers is pretty absorbing.
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