thebroadcaster

I've still been biking  more than I have been in the past. I rode in to work the other day, and that felt pretty good. I would've done it Sunday, too, but it was cold, windy and crappy. I didn't want to ride in yesterday, because it was my last day before vacation, and I new I'd be bringing my gun home. I didn't really want to ride my bike home in shorts and a t-shirt with a big ol' Smith and Wesson .40 pistol on my hip. That might have caused consequences and reprocussions.

I'm not riding today because it's Day 1 of vacation and I just feel like sitting at home and being a disgusting lump on the couch all day. We bought a birdfeeder for the deck last week, and I've been watching countless colorful birds come and go and make a mess on the deck. It's like having a birdcage, except I'm not confining a creature for my own amusement.

The missus and I had talked about me going to Connecticut for a spell while I'm off, but the funding for that fell through. And, right before the funding for a flight back east went away, she bought herself a nice, expensive new toy. Sigh. I'm not really too upset over that, though. She'd been wanting this toy for a long time, and the money she used to buy it was all her money, not mine, so it's cool. If I came into a bit of extra cash through my own devices, and I wanted to spend it on myself, I wouldn't want to hear any static, so I'm not going to give her any.

Last week at work, I had to deal with a woman who had alzheimer's. She had wandered away from home, and was speaking in jumbled sentences. The words she was using were actual words, and I had no trouble understanding them; they were just in total random order. We were finally able to get her home, and found out this was the first time she'd wandered off. It was a heartbreaking situation. I have no idea what we would've done with her if we weren't able to figure out who she was or where she lives. It also made me terrified of getting old and losing my grip with reality. Fortunately, I come from stock that seems to live well into old age and remain sharp all the way through.

I shall now continue recreating.

Today's forecast was hot, and I felt like I wanted to get another ride in, so I set off a little after 9 am, while it was still kind of cool out. I had it set in my mind to ride to the Golden Gate Bridge again. I rode there from home once before, and used it as a starting point when I went on my audition ride with the bike squad last year as we rode into Sausalito. This ride has three crappy hills, and since my route has me riding back the same way I go down, it really means 6 crappy hills. Last time I had to get off my bike and walk up a couple of the hills.

Hill #1, Alto Hill, wasn't bad. I made it up the hill with the front gear still in 2nd gear, which is different for me. Usually I puss out and shift into 1st on hills, but I was able maintain a respectable pace over the top of this hill. Riding down the hill through the Alto neighborhood, I got to ride past a dead dog in the middle of the road. It looked like a Bernese Mountain Dog that had  been hit within the last few minutes. That pretty much killed my buzz as I rode through Mill Valley.

The flat part alongside Richardson Bay was uneventful. As I sat at the traffic light to cross East Blithedale Road, I stopped next to two french au pairs (a pair of au pairs?), having a conversation in their native tongue. I immediately started humming "Foux De Fa Fa" by Flight of the Conchords. I wanted to start saying stuff to them like "Et maintenant le voyage a la supermarche! Pamplemousse! Ananas! Boeuf! Soup de jour! Jauques Cousteau! Baguette, mais oui!" I did not engage our vistors in a conversation taken from a comedy show. Nonetheless, buzz restored.

As I rode, I realized I went out without any water or my watch. I knew I'd be riding past Mike's Bikes in Sausalito, so I could just stop and get a bottle. Unfortunately, Mike's doesn't open until 11, and I got there at a little after 10. So it was a bottle of water from the stop-and-rob next door. On through Sausalito...

The second bitch of a hill is as you climb out of  south Sausalito toward Fort Baker. It's not very long, but it's hella steep. This was one of the ones I had to walk up before. Today: rode the whole way! Zang!

I rode down through Fort Baker, past the Coast Gaurd station, and to the base of the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge. Here's where I paused for a minute to takein the view and mentally prepare myself for the workout to come. The bike path ascends about 300 or so feet in about 2/10 of a mile, up steep switchbacks. This was the other hill where I had to get off my bike partway up and walk it to the top. Today: rode the while way! I'm sure my face was the same color as grapefruit and pouring sweat by the time I got to the top, but, by golly, I made it! Once at the top, I went to the CHP office at the vista point and ran my head under water in the bathhroom sink and sat down for a few minutes. After I got my breath back, I rode halfway across the bridge, turned around and came back. I figured I know what's on the other side, so I'll just head back.

I rode back through Sausalito. As I rode alongside the bay, the air seemed thick and humid and salty. It reminded me of living in Branford. In Mill Valley, I noticed my rear tire was going flat again, so I got some air in it at a gas station. I amended my rought through Alto so I wouldn't have to ride past the dead dog again, made it over Alto Hill, through Corte Madera and finally home again. I had to stop one more time for air in my tire. All and all, another good ride.

I went to Mike's Bikes and bougth a new tube for my bike, and while I was there, tried on a couple shirts. Even the XXL shirts were unacceptably tight. I reminded myself of Daffyd from Little Britain. Guess I'll be wearing my REI/EMS shirts for a while.

The weather's been nice here, so I'm back to riding my bike a little more. Part of my motivation comes from my desire to go to bike school at work, even though the next class will be "in the fall, maybe?", according to my boss. Another part of my motivation comes from the fact that it enables me to park my ass on the couch for the rest of the day and not feel like I've pissed the day away. Probably my biggest motivation comes from watching my dad disintegrate, and not my desire to not end up like him in 30 years.

Two weeks ago, I rode a mostly level route from home, across Corte Madera Creek, down an old railroad right-of-way, through a couple of small towns and back home again. That ride was 12.something miles. That was more of a warm-up ride, since I hadn't ridden at all during the winter, and I wanted to make sure I could at least handle an easy ride without collapsing into pile, clutching my chest and gasping for breath. I made it just fine.

Today, I wanted to tackle Porto Sueno Hill in San Rafael, which I rode over once last year and it nearly killed me. I had heard there was another bike route that goes over another hill from San Rafael to Sleepy Hollow, but that the ride was a bitch. The Marin County Bike Coalition map assigns it this symbol ">>>", which is the symbol for pretty fucking steep. I figured if I made it over Porto Sueno and felt okay, I'd give the pass to Sleepy Hollow a try.

I set off from home, rode my traditional ride around the back side of our parking lots, then went through the Cal Park Hill Tunnel into San Rafael on Bike Route 5. The fun part of that leg comes from riding through the Transit Center, which involves riding around passed-out heroin addicts on the sidewalk. Just north of downtown San Rafael, the bike path starts up Porto Sueno. The ride up seemed much easier than I remembered it being last time. I was still sweating and breathing hard by the time I got to the top, but I didn't feel like I was about to pass out. I rode through the Terra Linda neighborhood, and started up Frietas Parkway. There's a slight uphill grade that you don't notice when you're in a car, but on a bike you can feel it. I switched my gears and tackled it with no problem. Then I got to Scotty's Market, where I turned around last time. At this point, Frietas Parkway goes from a slight uphill grade to ascending a fucking cliff. I had to get off my bike and walk it up the hill for the last 1/4 mile before the road ended. At the end of the road, Bike Route 28 continues over the mountain on a paved path. The path was only slightly less steep than Frietas Parkway. I was able to ride over the crest of the hill in my bike's lowest gear, then quickly got up to around 20 mph as I rode down the other side. Route 28 comes out on Butterfield Road, and snakes down toward San Anselmo. I crossed Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, and took Route 28 to where it ended at Bike Route 20. If I turned left, that'd take me back toward home... I turned right and rode into downtown Fairfax. Route 20 generally follows the old railroad right-of-way, so it was a flat ride for most of the rest of the ride. I rode into downtown Fairfax and turned around at Bolinas Road. While I was in Fairfax, I could smell cooking bacon. The only thing better than the smell of baconis the taste of bacon. Ithought about finding out where that smell was coming from, but I just kept going back toward San Anselmo. I rode into downtown San Anselmo and stopped at Comforts for lunch. The bacon smelled good, but Comforts makes a Chinese chicken salad that kicks ass, so I had one. After the quick refueling stop, I got back on my bike and kept on riding back toward home. In Ross, I crossed Lagunitas Street, which is where I come out when I ride the southern route. From there, it was the usual ride along Corte Madera Creek back toward my apartment. There's one last hill on South Eliseo Drive, then it was smooth riding. Sorta. As I got closer to the bay, I ran into a strong headwind. I made it to the Larkspur Ferry Terminal, where there were a handful of "Occupy" protesters protesting something, and made it home. My app on my phone said I went 18.4 miles. Not bad.

If there's one thing Marin County has, it's a sophisticated network of bike trails, so hopefully I can get out there once a week and keep pushing myself to go on longer and harder rides. As long as I can keep this up, bike school will be no problem. And I don't think I have to worry about turning into another one of the zillions of arrogant, self-absorbed, narcissistic asshole bicyclists that plague the roadways around here... I generally ride to the right, stop for stop signs, will ride on a bike path rather than the street if I have an option, and don't buy clothing with corporate logos all over it so I can pretend that I'm sponsored. Hopefully that never changes.

It is with a great deal of dismay that I came to the realization today that some of, in fact, many of, my t-shirts are, as we would say at work, no longer serviceable. It makes me sad, for one reason, because I don't have a whole lot of newer t-shirts in reserve, and that means I need to buy more. Like most most men, I'll keep my underwear and socks long past the point that they should have been burned. Not because of any emotional attachment, that's just because of utility; I throw out my old underwear as soon as I buy new ones. My current sadness comes from the fact that all my t-shirts mean something different to me, and throwing them away is like throwing away a little part of my past.

My wife has been pretty good about getting me shirts every now and then, but, sadly, a lot of the shirts she's gotten me I can't wear. She got me a Ben and Jerry's shirt from somewhere, but for some reason, she got me an XXL, and the thing billows on me like a sail in a breeze. She got me a shirt from where she works. The design on it is nice enough and it's a color I like, but the silk screening on the front is large and not breathable, so it's like wearing a piece of Saran Wrap on the front of my torso. I think she's getting the hang of it, though. The last couple of shirts she's gotten me are in the rotation.

When her mom came out to visit, we were walking around in some touristy spot in Monterey. I saw a tuxedo t-shirt for sale, and I joked about how awesome it would be to have it. She insisted on buying it for me, despite my pleas that she not, that I was just being ironical. It now sits in my bottom dresser drawer, only seeing daylight when I open the drawer to add more t-shirts that I'll probably never wear again.

As I folded my laundry today, when I got to a t-shirt that I'll likely throw out soon, I paused and reflected a bit on where I got it, who I was with when I got it, and if anything awesome happened to me while I was wearing it.

826 Valencia/Bring Your Own Citrus shirt. I bought that shirt when I visited San Francisco a couple of years before I moved back to California. 826 Valencia is a place in the Mission District where kids can go after school and improve their reading skills, study, etc. They have a pirate store attached to the place where you can buy delightful feather pens and glass eyes, where one is libel to get attacked by swabs, and where homage is paid to a puffer fish named Karl. The store still exists, and I now live about 15 miles away, so at least I can go and buy a replacement shirt. I love having a shirt I have ti explain to people.

Stella shirt. I bought this, and some other swag, when I went to Toad's Place in New Haven and saw Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter and David wain perform. I don't think Stella performs anywhere anymore. I'm not sure what I'll be replacing that shirt with.

Moab Brewing Company shirt. When my wife and I were on our honeymoon, we drove all around the southwest. After spending nights in Phoenix, Santa Fe and Pagosa Springs, Colorado, we wound up in Moab, Utah, just outside of Arches National Park. There's a microbrewery in Moab that made a killer dinner and some good beer. We ordered takeout and ate it in our motel room while we drank something called Dead Horse Ale. We each bought a t-shirt. That visit to Utah took us to Arches National Park, Capitol Reef National Park, Bryce Canyon National Park and Zion National Park. The only National Park in Utah we didn't visit was Canyonlands, only because you had to drive something like 40 miles down a dirt road to get to it. We went horseback riding ar Bryce Canyon, and I discovered Zion rivals Yosemite for stunning beauty. I had already decided Utah is one of the most beautiful places in America; that trip solidified that fact in my mind. I'd want to live there if the LDS didn't control everything in that state.

WPKN shirt. When I gave some money to Bridgeport's weird little radio station, they sent me a t-shirt. It's long-sleeved, so I don't wear it as often, but I guess I've worn it often enough that the collar is all worn out and the silk screening is cracked and faded. I'd love to get another, but I can't really feature giving money to a radio station that I can't listen to. I'm friends with one of the DJs there; maybe I can get him to send me one... I think the last time I wore it was when I went on a training ride with the bicycle officers where I work. It started pouring down rain halfway into the ride; by the time we got back to the Golden Gate Bridge, every inch of me was soaked.

I like t-shirts that have some regional meaning or that are just far too obscure for the average person to understand. Too bad that makes it hard to replace them when they wear out.

My internal clock woke me up at 5:35 this morning. Even on my days off, I can't sleep in. I got up and went to the bathroom, then came back to bed. I must have woken Angie up, because I felt her roll over, then heard her open her nightstand drawer, get a couple of Tylenol, take them, then roll back over in bed.

So I decided to take a walk. I walked out of the garage alongside my friend Gary, who is a trooper in Connecticut. We were watching people fly kites in the meadow north of my garage. I was concerned, because the kites seemed to be flying right into a tangle of power lines that were strung over the meadow. I told one of the kite flyers that those were high-voltage power lines, but he seemed unconcerned, and continued flying his kite. One of his kids handed me the end of the string, and I was amazed to feel the force with which the kite pulled me along. After a few seconds, I decided I didn't want to get electrocuted, so I gave the kite back to the child. Gary and I continued up the path away from the garage. As we walked, I looked out over the meadow and saw the power lines disappeared into the hillside. I figured that must mean they were grounded, so it was okay to fly kites around them.

As we walked together, I looked down at my right forearm and noticed a blister forming. I looked at it, and saw it was forming a thin, transparent bubble of skin over a wound. I touched the blister, and a small hole formed. The hole got bigger, and the wound seemed to come apart. I looked into it, and could see the tendons moving back and forth against my radius and ulna as I flexed my hands. Within a couple of seconds, the wound ate up most of my forearm. I told Gary I should probably go to the hospital, and he agreed. I looked over at my left arm, and noticed most of the skin was falling off. "Yeah," I casually said, "I should go to the hospital." So we walked back toward the garage toward my mini-van. As we got to it, I said, "I'm glad this is only a dream. I'm going to go ahead and wake myself up now."

So I woke up.

I've been going non-stop for pretty much the three weeks. Earlier this month, my mom came out to visit. A visit from family is never just that... it always comes with a week or so of ramping up for the visit. We had to get the guest bedroom cleaned, which included doing the sheets. It also came with a day or so of un-cluttering the room that had, for the last year, been where we stuck things that we didn't know what else to do with. We also had to figure out meals: which would be eaten at home, which would be out, who would pay for what, etc. And finally, we had to figure out things to do for her visit. It wasn't like I wanted to spend the entire 8 days just sitting around, watching TV (although we did do our fair share of that). To top everything off, we were freakin' broke again after paying bills, so there wasn't a whole lot of discretionary spending to be had anyway. All-and-all, it was a good visit, though. We had fun, didn't spend too much money and we were busy all week. Plus, it was just really good to see my mom again after a few years. I got half a day to relax, then I had to go to work one day, then I got to spend all last week at the CHP Academy, getting Intermediate Accident Investigation training. It was a fairly complex course, and they introduced us to 9th grade geometry, which baffled most of us in the class. If (or should I say "when") I go back for the 2 week Advanced AI course, they'll be throwing all sorts of math and science at us... more geometry, trig, physics, etc... the good thing is, whereas I was totally baffled in the abstract classroom setting of such subjects in high school, actually seeing the sciences applied in real life makes learning it much easier. But the class made for another busy week. At least this one came with free lodging and meals while I was staying at the academy. There was no TV or internet connection in my room, but this didn't matter since I spent every night studying. The studying had nothing to do with the IAI class; I was studying for the sergeant's exam, which I just took today. So I finished up my week at the academy... I drew my diagram, took the test, and I'll find out next week if I passed (I have no reason to think I didn't). I came home yesterday evening, went to bed, then got up this morning to drive to Concord to take the sergeant's test. There was some pretty obscure stuff in that test, and you need at least 70% to pass. Right now I feel like I'm probably right on the cusp for that one. We'll see. But now... My mom's visit is done, my week at the academy is done and the sergeant's test is done... time to sit down, turn on the TV, have a drink and relax.............

Monday, May 23, 2011
10.8 miles

Before I set off, I spent about 30 minutes in my parking lot doing slow-speed maneuvers through some of the CHP patterns I had marked out in chalk. Then I put my helmet and gloves on and headed toward the bike path. I didn't really have an itinerary in mind when I set out on this ride. I was pretty much just watching the wind and trying to strategize an outbound trip against the wind and a return with the wind at my back. I think I was successful. I headed north through the tunnel at Cal Park Hill into San Rafael. I couldn't decide if I should go up a route I've already done or try something new. I decided to head to San Anselmo down the Miracle Mile (I have no idea why it's called that). There was a slight uphill push as you head west on Second Street, but then there's a nice downhill glide into the big intersection at Sir Francis Drake Boulevard. After making my way through a maze of traffic lights at SFD/Second/Center Streets, I began south and east down SFD through San Anselmo. I noticed Bike Route 20 was marked on a street one block over, so I moved down there. Once Route 20 leaves San Alselmo, it goes through the teeny tiny town of Ross on some back streets, then eventually feeds into a paved bike path that runs along Corte Madera Creek. I just stayed on that past the College of Marin and Marin General Hospital, and ended up back on the path I was on last week. I made it back home in a little under 50 minutes.


Wednesday, May 25, 2011
10.0 miles

This was my "audition ride" with the sergeant of the bike squad and three other applicants to the bike squad. I was told to be at the CHP office at 8 am, so I rode my bike in (2 miles that I didn't count) and found the other applicants in the office. That was where I found out the meeting spot had been moved to the Golden Gate Bridge. We took a couple of patrol cars to our trailer at the southeast parking lot of the bridge and met our sergeant. We each grabbed a patrol bike, which were Cannondales that felt like they weighed maybe a half a pound, even with the gear bags and lights and sirens (yes, the patrol bikes have a siren). We saddled up and rode onto the bridge. We rode north across the GGB, then went around the parking lot of the vista point on the north side. We continued up Highway 101 to the Alexander Avenue offramp, and rode down the long hill into Sausalito, went through town, and stopped at A Taste of Rome, which is where I had a feeling we were going. So we stopped and had coffee. (Hey, we are all cops, after all.) As we sat outside drinking our coffee, it got darker and darker, and it began to rain. We kept checking our phones to see if the rain was going to blow through quickly or if we were fucked. We determined we were fucked, so we finished our coffee and set out in the rain. The sergeant took us through Sausalito which, with the exception of Bridgeway and the marinas, is built on the side of a very steep hillside. He trucked up a bunch of steep residential streets I never would have imagined I could have rode up, but I did. As we were riding out of town, I heard a loud POP and my pedals stopped moving. I looked down and saw the chain on my bike had broken. So we all stopped while a patrol unit went to the trailer at the bridge, grabbed another bike, and came to where we were stopped and swapped it out. Once I had a working bike again, we continued south back toward the bridge. By this time, every stitch of clothing I had on was soaked, and my sunglasses were making it harder to see, so I rode without them. We rode through Fort Baker on the north end of the bridge, past the Coast Guard building and down to the base of the north tower of the GGB. Then we rode up a short but very steep road that went from sea level to the road deck of the bridge via a series of switchbacks. We got up to the west walkway, then went under the roadway on a little path and came out at the vista point. We stopped at yet another CHP mini-office and took a potty break, then road the last stretch back across the bridge. Once we got onto the span, we rode directly into a headwind that was carrying tiny drops of rain that felt like I was getting sprayed with shards of glass. Add to that the noise of the traffic on the bridge, which was deafening. We stopped mid-span and took some pictures, then rode the home stretch to the toll plaza/parking lot/gift shop. Once there, we headed to a nice wide paved path that went under the bridge and the sergeant set up the 8' box with some traffic cones. We then rode the box for about a half an hour. I'm happy to say I rocked it. The sarge said it looked like I could do a 7' turn in the box if I wanted to. I don't know if the bike I was on had a slightly shorter turning radius, or if it was because I was doing it on level ground instead of my sloped parking lot, or if the sergeant had mis-measured the box, but I didn't have any of the problems doing the turns that I usually have on my bike at home. After riding a while, watching tourists take our pictures and slipping into the icy grasp of hypothermia, we went back to the trailer and headed back to the office. We all then went to lunch at a nice seafood restaurant, which I probably would have enjoyed more if I wasn't still in cold, wet clothes.

My quads have been yelling at me ever since.

I downloaded and installed an app on my iPhone brand cellular telephone called "B.iCycle", which tracks your route when you ride, and gives you all the information I've been looking for. I used it for the first time yesterday, and I'm overall satisfied with it. I think my $0.99 was well spent.

May 20, 2011
12.4 miles
I started out by heading over Corte Madera Creek, past Trader Joes and the Cheesecake Factory to the CHP office, which is 2 miles. I checked my email and picked up my new straw hat that I had ordered, but the real reason I went in is because I knew the sergeant who is in charge of the bike unit would be there. As luck and my careful timing would have it, he saw me at the computer and called me in to his office to interview me for the bike officer position. After the interview, which I think went well, I hopped back on the bike and continued down San Clemente Drive toward Tiburon. It was nice and flat for a while, but as the road moved away from the shore and inland, it also began a steady ascent up the hillside. Much to my own surprise, I did okay on the hills. I made it to Trestle Glen Road, which makes a quick climb up and over the ridge that makes the backbone of the Tiburon peninsula, then came out on Highway 131 at Blackie's Pasture. I made a right down 131 back toward the freeway, and found some hills that you just don't notice when you're in a car. Once over the 101 freeway, I made a right and joined up with Bike Route 5, which I was on a couple weeks ago when I rode to Sausalito. I climbed Alto Hill again, which is still a grind, crested, and coasted down back into Corte Madera. I love the feeling of struggling up a hill, then feeling it easier and easier, and before you know it you're tucked in tight, coasting down the hill at nearly 40 mph (according to my B.iCycle app). I followed Route 5 back the way I normally do and came home. As I got off my bike in front of my building, I noticed that not only did I not feel like I was about to collapse, I felt like I could have gone longer. That's a good feeling.

May 21, 2011
1.6 miles
Today's ride was considerably lamer than yesterday's. Today was a horseback/bicycle combo ride with my wife. We started down the same path we took last week from the Morningstar Farm toward Stafford Lake, but a little ways into it, we began to notice that our horse seemed to be limping a bit. I rode ahead a few few points, then doubled back because the horse was going at such a slow pace. There was a lot of riding to the top of a hill and stopping and waiting for Mojave (our horse) to catch up. After we got maybe 3/4 of a mile down the trail, Angie turned around and headed back to the barn for the sake of the horse. I rode back, too. The upshot of this was I got to conquer some more steep hills, and when I was able to get some speed up, going down a narrow trail with a steep drop-off on one side is a bit of a thrill. I also was able to turn on some switchbacks going downhill without putting my feet down. One in particular was a very sharp turn, maybe a 6' radius on about a 15-20% downhill incline with a steep hillside off the business end of the switchback. I went around and put my foot down on the turn. Once I made the turn, I turned around, went back up and tried it again. The second time I tried it, I made it around the switchback without using my feet. That was my big accomplishment of the day. After that I coasted down to the bottom of the hill, probably going 20 mph-ish on a narrow dirt path with trees that seem much closer to the side of the trail when you build up your speed.

Next week (hopefully): home to the Golden Gate Bridge.

May 18, 2011
5.31 miles

It took a lot of self determination to get myself on my bike for this one. Yesterday was one of those days where I couldn't stay awake. I'd sit on the couch, start watching TV, then doze off. I kep telling myself I need to ride my bike today. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was definately weak. Finally, after about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I saddled up, if for no other reason than to deposit a check, since the bank is almost too close to drive to.

I followed Bike Route 20 under Highway 101, then along the back side of Drake's Landing office park. I never realized there was a nice greenbelt along Corte Madera Creek there. I dodged the Marin County crew team while they were putting their boats in the water, avoided eye contact with a couple of hobos, then found myself on the back side of the Bon Air shopping center, where my bank is. I rode to the ATM and made the deposit. I had originally intended to turn around there and go home, but at that point, I figured I was already this far and in biking mode, so I might as well go a little further. I continued west down Sir Francis Drake Boulevard to Bon Air Road, went down Bon Air past the hospital, and wound up on Bike Route 20 again along Corte Madera Creek. I rode toward home again, climbing one bitch of a hill, then coasting down back to the greenbelt. On the way back I had the wind to my back, so I could've boogied down the path at a good 20 mph, but there were too many old people walking dogs to do that in good conscience. I rode past the two hobos again, went up and down some stairs, and rode to the ferry terminal. I rode the perimeter of the parking lot, which gives one a beautiful view of San Quentin Prison, then went back over the pedestrian overpass and headed home. It wasn't too difficult or long, but I worked up a good sweat.

Today, May 19, 2011
0.4 mile
Doesn't even count as a training ride. I just rode to the AAA office across the street to do a Child Passenger Seat event for work. Hey wait, aren't I on vacation?

Today's bike ride was not as long, milage-wise, as the last couple of rides, but I was on two wheels (more or less) for nearly two hours. None of my ride time was on asphalt; it was all on trails in and around the Little Mountain Preserve, the Indian Tree Preserve and the back side of Stafford Lake. I rode along the trail on my bike while my wife rode her horse. This meant I didn't ride as fast as I would have liked, or as far, but I made the most of it. I haven't plotted out the course on Google Maps yet to get a more precise milage, but by looking at the topo map, we probably went about 8 miles round trip, with a top elevation of 480 feet after starting out at 100 feet. There were a lot of steep climbs and drops, so I'm not sure how many feet I actually climbed. The inital hill was a grind, with a few switchbacks. I had to get off and walk up for a few hundred feet. Once the grade dropped to something less than what felt like 40%, I got back on and trucked up the hill in low gear. The map showed a pretty cool looking loop that went up to 1340 feet with lots of switchbacks, but Angie's horse was "getting tired", so we went back to the stable. All in all it was a fun ride. It was a couple of hours of keeping my heart rate up, maneuvering around the trails and going up a few steep ones. I'm satisfied that it was an afternoon well spent. I will say that going down a steep switchback is a little more terrifying than going up. At least I only involuntarily dismounted only once...

This week at work was four straight days of Crisis Intervention Training. The training was really good. It should be mandatory training for all law enforcement officers. My wife disagrees with me on this, but I think all cops are, to a certain extent, mental health case workers. We are the only ones who cannot refuse a call (even the fire department can, fer chissakes), after a while we get to know the ones we see over and over again, and we have to deal with unstable, violent, disturbed people, diagnose them, and decide what first-level course of treatment they're going to get (5150/72 hour hold, jail or release). It was telling when one of the instructors asked us to raise our hands if we've ever arrested someone for murder, no one raised their hands, then asked us to raise our hands if we've ever arrested a mentaly ill person, and everyone (including me) raised our hands. We only spent a half a day talking about what I was mainly there to learn about (suicide intervention), but I learned so much about mental illness, the rest of the class was worth it. We learned all about Axis I and Axis II mental problems, medication non-compliance, recognizing what symptoms go with what problems, tactics with talking to and dealing with the mentally ill, what symptoms are NOT mental illness (and therefore, not elligible for a 5150 hold) and taking care of ourselves emotionally. We went to a couple homeless shelters and spent an hour or so observing mental health court. The ultimate goal of the training is to help us get the mentally ill people we deal with the right kind of help to try to keep them out of the criminal justice system, rather than just throwing them in jail over and over because they're causing a disturbance, or trespassing or whatnot. It was also reassuring to hear that there are some people we just cannot help. Some people are not going to take their meds, some people are not going to use the resources we provide, and, most importantly, some people are going to jump no matter what we say to them or how long we talk to them. All and all, excellent training. It's nice to work for an agency that doesn't have the "fuck 'em all" attitude that other departments I've worked for have. Plus now I have a nifty "CIT" pin for my uniform!