Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Article sent to UrbanVelo
I just submitted my article with some photos to UrbanVelo. Thanks to John, Sean and Jared for the suggestions. As I wrote and rewrote, it became more concise and less toxic. Now I have to wait and see if they'll publish it.
This man recently flew this strapped on jet over the English Channel. Here's a link to the article. Link
Monday, September 22, 2008
Article
Here's a preview of the article I wrote. I'd appreciate feedback. The paragraphs didn't copy in very well. I used a short paragraph style. I'm still editing, but feel close.
Staying on my Bike: Three Types Obstacles to Maneuver.
A simple truth is that you can’t stay on your bike unless you can maneuver three types of obstacles.
Type one obstacles must be avoided outright; oak trees, dumpster and big vehicles need to be circumvented at all costs.
Conversely, type two obstacles must be hit aggressively; you best conquer a snow drift or a log-pile with momentum and a snarl.
Type thee obstacles demand deft fineness and ample brains to negotiate. These are the bunny-hops over the sudden hole or the dart around the oblivious motorist.
I fall of my bike for two reasons; first, I don’t have the brakes, aggressiveness, fineness or brains to take on an obstacle; I am just not skilled enough. Second, I use the wrong type of solution to negotiate an obstacle.
Examples, I’ve wiped-out using more aggression than I have skill. This is an error a type two solution for a type three obstacle.
Likewise, I’ve whimped-out thinking my way over something I need to just hit like I meant it; I used a type three solution for a type two obstacle.
Errors in type one obstacles often require extended recoveries and costly repairs.
Crashing is cycling’s inevitable and wonderful way of testing for the courage to get back on our bikes.
This reality extends from single-track to any commute. I find it easier to stay on my bike off road than during my rides to work. Single-track crashes are physical events that leave with prideful scabs.
Whereas the obstacles that have hurled me off my commuter bike are more psychological.
I hope a bit of my cycling history illustrates dealing with these metaphysical commuter obstacles and “crashes.”
I began biking during the mid-90s as a student in Minnesota. I rode a rigid Trek 950 for three years because my wife and I could only afford one car.
There were obstacles. One year we had over 100 inches of snow. Blizzards were type one obstacles that took me off my bike for a few days. Stretches of -50 wind-chill required being bold enough to ride and being smart enough to dress for the elements. I got a charge out of riding past people struggling to jumpstart their cars.
I graduated and took a teaching job in a suburb of the Twin Cities. I quit biking and started driving to school.
I lacked the resolve to commute; a type two problem. I also couldn’t figure out how to keep from being a messy-haired sweat ball; a type three problem. Additionally, Coming in disheveled and dripping was not ok for an untenured staff member; a type one problem.
I was off my commuting bike for six years. I fell down.
But, I got up again. I took a leave of absence and moved to Taipei, Taiwan. My apartment was on the West side of the city and my school was on the East side near Taipei 101. Since Taiwan is home to giant bike companies, like Giant Bikes. I purchased a XTC II hard tail at a great price. I was riding again.
Type one obstacles in Taipei were occasionally typhoons, but usually buses.
One morning a bus pulled out and was pushing me into the traffic filled left lane. I reached down and slapped the front of the bus near the headlight with my right hand to warn the driver of my presence. as I sped by.
Type two obstacles included learning to take and hold a lane of traffic or bumping shoulder to shoulder with innumerable motor scooters.
Type two aggressions led to the invention of the visual honk. I could immobilize all but the most maniacal would be pull-out and hit me drivers by pointing an unyielding index finger at them.
I do my best not to gesture with other fingers. Being assertiveness is more effective than being rude most of the time.
Taipei’s type three obstacles included learning to make sense of traffic chaos, and finding how not to look like a pig. I buzzed off my hair and kept a change of clothes at my school.
With time, I saw brilliance in Taiwanese traffic. The drivers needed aggression and skill to survive their motorized commutes as well.
After my leave of absence, I moved back to my suburban teaching job. The type three obstacle lessons of changes of clothes and buzzed hair worked for me in Minnesota too. I kept a set of clothes at school and laundered them in a washing machine for kids who peed themselves during the day.
I stored my bike in the back of my classroom on a rug covered with newspaper. On the sloppiest, dirtiest winter days my bike drip dried over the papers which I could easily gather up and disposes of. No fuss no mess.
I commuted like this for three years and expanded my bike mission. I brought in my repair stand and tools and fixed student bikes and the school’s special education bikes.
The students, staff and building administrators all supported my commuting and appreciated the example I set. I was riding strong.
Wham! A new obstacle threw me off my bike. Our head of building and grounds and superintendent, people I see as wearing Dalmatian coats while driving SUV over baby seals, decreed that no bike may enter our school. (This is more rude than assertive, isn’t it?)
My first reaction to their unreservedly moronic edict was self-righteous indignation. My expensive bike, the one I’ve build up for three years with the leather saddle, lights, panniers, etc must sit outside where it will be a target for theft and vandalism while I’m at school late coaching all year.
After calming down, I approached this as a type three obstacle. It called for finesse and brains. I knew that my Principals, the students and my colleagues supported my cycling.
They saw I spoke with students about ecology, fitness and helmets. They know I fix children’s bikes.
A diplomatic and reasoned approach was required. Confident goodness and reason would prevail; I trusted that a type three solution was pending.
My Principal met with the superintendent on my behalf. But, the Superintendent said, no bike period. Wiped-out again!
I’ve thought about obstacles and crashing enough to know that I can try over. The approach for my second effort was a mix of type two and type three.
I wrote an assertive but positive letter to the editor of our community paper suggesting we uphold the benefits of cycling, and I moved my bike to a new location in view of our lovely secretaries.
My second effort made matters worse. I heard of comments about people threatening to cut off my lock and take my bike.
Now, I’m having a hard time staying upright. When I ride to school, I’m angry. When I’m at school, I fear for my bikes security. The drama continues.
To ride or not to ride, that is my question. Do I allow obstacles of velo-ignorance throw me, or do I keep riding for a sea of good reasons?
I’ve tried skill and intellect to no avail. I’ve tried aggression, without benefit. Is insubordination to be avoided at all costs?
Do their unenlightened ideas keep me off my bike? Or, am I responsible for my own riding?
I am down. Nonetheless, I’m dusting off and starting to ride anew.
I will keep riding. I will continue fixing kids’ bikes. I will do what is right because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me and my bike!
All cyclists have to cope with obstacles to stay on their bike. The three categories of obstacles are inevitable. Brick walls, pot holes and human errors send us skipping across the earth.
But truthfully, we get to decide if we remain crashed.
Understanding the types of obstacles confronting us give a better chance of riding another day, of being better than our obstacles.
Staying on my Bike: Three Types Obstacles to Maneuver.
A simple truth is that you can’t stay on your bike unless you can maneuver three types of obstacles.
Type one obstacles must be avoided outright; oak trees, dumpster and big vehicles need to be circumvented at all costs.
Conversely, type two obstacles must be hit aggressively; you best conquer a snow drift or a log-pile with momentum and a snarl.
Type thee obstacles demand deft fineness and ample brains to negotiate. These are the bunny-hops over the sudden hole or the dart around the oblivious motorist.
I fall of my bike for two reasons; first, I don’t have the brakes, aggressiveness, fineness or brains to take on an obstacle; I am just not skilled enough. Second, I use the wrong type of solution to negotiate an obstacle.
Examples, I’ve wiped-out using more aggression than I have skill. This is an error a type two solution for a type three obstacle.
Likewise, I’ve whimped-out thinking my way over something I need to just hit like I meant it; I used a type three solution for a type two obstacle.
Errors in type one obstacles often require extended recoveries and costly repairs.
Crashing is cycling’s inevitable and wonderful way of testing for the courage to get back on our bikes.
This reality extends from single-track to any commute. I find it easier to stay on my bike off road than during my rides to work. Single-track crashes are physical events that leave with prideful scabs.
Whereas the obstacles that have hurled me off my commuter bike are more psychological.
I hope a bit of my cycling history illustrates dealing with these metaphysical commuter obstacles and “crashes.”
I began biking during the mid-90s as a student in Minnesota. I rode a rigid Trek 950 for three years because my wife and I could only afford one car.
There were obstacles. One year we had over 100 inches of snow. Blizzards were type one obstacles that took me off my bike for a few days. Stretches of -50 wind-chill required being bold enough to ride and being smart enough to dress for the elements. I got a charge out of riding past people struggling to jumpstart their cars.
I graduated and took a teaching job in a suburb of the Twin Cities. I quit biking and started driving to school.
I lacked the resolve to commute; a type two problem. I also couldn’t figure out how to keep from being a messy-haired sweat ball; a type three problem. Additionally, Coming in disheveled and dripping was not ok for an untenured staff member; a type one problem.
I was off my commuting bike for six years. I fell down.
But, I got up again. I took a leave of absence and moved to Taipei, Taiwan. My apartment was on the West side of the city and my school was on the East side near Taipei 101. Since Taiwan is home to giant bike companies, like Giant Bikes. I purchased a XTC II hard tail at a great price. I was riding again.
Type one obstacles in Taipei were occasionally typhoons, but usually buses.
One morning a bus pulled out and was pushing me into the traffic filled left lane. I reached down and slapped the front of the bus near the headlight with my right hand to warn the driver of my presence. as I sped by.
Type two obstacles included learning to take and hold a lane of traffic or bumping shoulder to shoulder with innumerable motor scooters.
Type two aggressions led to the invention of the visual honk. I could immobilize all but the most maniacal would be pull-out and hit me drivers by pointing an unyielding index finger at them.
I do my best not to gesture with other fingers. Being assertiveness is more effective than being rude most of the time.
Taipei’s type three obstacles included learning to make sense of traffic chaos, and finding how not to look like a pig. I buzzed off my hair and kept a change of clothes at my school.
With time, I saw brilliance in Taiwanese traffic. The drivers needed aggression and skill to survive their motorized commutes as well.
After my leave of absence, I moved back to my suburban teaching job. The type three obstacle lessons of changes of clothes and buzzed hair worked for me in Minnesota too. I kept a set of clothes at school and laundered them in a washing machine for kids who peed themselves during the day.
I stored my bike in the back of my classroom on a rug covered with newspaper. On the sloppiest, dirtiest winter days my bike drip dried over the papers which I could easily gather up and disposes of. No fuss no mess.
I commuted like this for three years and expanded my bike mission. I brought in my repair stand and tools and fixed student bikes and the school’s special education bikes.
The students, staff and building administrators all supported my commuting and appreciated the example I set. I was riding strong.
Wham! A new obstacle threw me off my bike. Our head of building and grounds and superintendent, people I see as wearing Dalmatian coats while driving SUV over baby seals, decreed that no bike may enter our school. (This is more rude than assertive, isn’t it?)
My first reaction to their unreservedly moronic edict was self-righteous indignation. My expensive bike, the one I’ve build up for three years with the leather saddle, lights, panniers, etc must sit outside where it will be a target for theft and vandalism while I’m at school late coaching all year.
After calming down, I approached this as a type three obstacle. It called for finesse and brains. I knew that my Principals, the students and my colleagues supported my cycling.
They saw I spoke with students about ecology, fitness and helmets. They know I fix children’s bikes.
A diplomatic and reasoned approach was required. Confident goodness and reason would prevail; I trusted that a type three solution was pending.
My Principal met with the superintendent on my behalf. But, the Superintendent said, no bike period. Wiped-out again!
I’ve thought about obstacles and crashing enough to know that I can try over. The approach for my second effort was a mix of type two and type three.
I wrote an assertive but positive letter to the editor of our community paper suggesting we uphold the benefits of cycling, and I moved my bike to a new location in view of our lovely secretaries.
My second effort made matters worse. I heard of comments about people threatening to cut off my lock and take my bike.
Now, I’m having a hard time staying upright. When I ride to school, I’m angry. When I’m at school, I fear for my bikes security. The drama continues.
To ride or not to ride, that is my question. Do I allow obstacles of velo-ignorance throw me, or do I keep riding for a sea of good reasons?
I’ve tried skill and intellect to no avail. I’ve tried aggression, without benefit. Is insubordination to be avoided at all costs?
Do their unenlightened ideas keep me off my bike? Or, am I responsible for my own riding?
I am down. Nonetheless, I’m dusting off and starting to ride anew.
I will keep riding. I will continue fixing kids’ bikes. I will do what is right because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me and my bike!
All cyclists have to cope with obstacles to stay on their bike. The three categories of obstacles are inevitable. Brick walls, pot holes and human errors send us skipping across the earth.
But truthfully, we get to decide if we remain crashed.
Understanding the types of obstacles confronting us give a better chance of riding another day, of being better than our obstacles.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Urban-Velo wantabee
This weekend I wrote a 1,500 word article that I plan to submit to Urban-Velo. My thesis is that three categories of obstacles knock us off our bikes physically and motivationally.
I share how these three types of obstacles have influenced my riding over the years and how my latest struggle with my school has threatened to pull me from my bike.
I'll post a draft after I tweak it a bit more.
I share how these three types of obstacles have influenced my riding over the years and how my latest struggle with my school has threatened to pull me from my bike.
I'll post a draft after I tweak it a bit more.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
"banana in the sea"
Claire and Harris invented a sushi called "banana in the sea." Claire say, "It really tastes salty and sweet." Harris says, "It tastes more like banana than sea weed." Alexia, our neighbor says, "OOOOOO it'll taste grossss."
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Gear(s)
I just came across this picture again. Jared and I did a short overnight bike trip on the Luce line. We cooked some food and went for a midnight ride down the trail with headlamps and lights. Riding the trail after dark was a blast. Might be something to plan to do in the future.
The photo is large. Click on in for more detail.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Keep the Garage TV going with DTV Coupons
I sent in for my TV converter coupons yesterday. Quite easy, here's a link to the page.
The converters will be about $20 with the coupon. I told Jared I'd send him this info, but thought I put it out for anyone interested.
The coupons are free, so you might as well get them for neighbors, friends or me if your TVs are all digital.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
R.I.P Coffee
This is not a rested Peace coffee, but a coffee that is roasted in a layer of plant material that is usually removed first. Here is what Tom from Sweet Maria's says
In this process the fruit skin is removed, then the coffee is dried on raised screens without attempting to remove the fruit. The fruit dries to the parchment layer. In normal processing, this is removed at the dry mill, and the green coffee that comes out looks a lot like wet-process green coffee. But it has a different cup; lower acidty, more fruit, more body.
I found the low acid, body and fruitiness to be right on. It is always good to try a new weird coffee to roast. It keeps me out of the roast,brew,drink rut.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Rage for the Machine
Still pissed off about loosing my bike rights, I sent the following off to our local paper the Southwest Review. Am I Tilting at windmills?
Little Things Add Up in District 199
For three years I have bike commuted to the Inver Grove Heights Middle School where I love working as a teacher and coach. I started bike commuting for fun, fitness, cost savings and environmentalism. I think little things add up.
The Middle School is a great place. The encouragement of students, fellow staff members, my principals, head custodian and room custodians toward riding to school shows our supportive building community.
Yes, and cycling adds to my work with students. Frosted eyelashes on a -20 degree day make an impression with kids. Having a bike in the corner of my classroom starts conversations on ecology, fitness and helmets.
One such conversation let to bringing in my repair stand and bike tools to help students with brakes, kickstands, cables, tires and more. Another day, I worked with a student to repair the district owned bikes and adult tricycles ridden in the halls during our adaptive P.E. classes.
Helping a student with a bike problem builds on our school community, shows caring and becomes something that benefits achievement. Giving a child a safe bike and a little extra adult support is not the answer to all of our academic problems, but it contributes.
Regrettably, Dr. Wells, our Superintendent of Schools, has recently decided no staff bike may go inside our schools. I contend, an expensive, adult bike is a target for vandalism and theft without a secure storage spot during late hours of teaching and coaching. A lone bike in the snow will not start important conversations or be an example to children.
My bike doesn’t harm district property; I have fixed district property. Safety isn’t threatened; it is increased. Learning isn’t limited it’s bolstered. Bike commuting is an answer not a problem. It is to be celebrated not restricted. Does Dr. Wells’ decision add up? Does Dr. Wells park in the student lot?
Please support teacher cycling and outreach along with the countless other excellent things teachers and staff do in District 199. Little things the community does add up for students too.
Sincerely
Heath Anderson
Inver Grove Heights Middle School
ELL Teacher, 7th Grade Football Coach, Middle School Track Coach, Nordic Ski Coach
Go Spartans!
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