Be it resolved: Commuting via bicycle is not that impossible

By JIM FOTI, Star Tribune

Last update: October 11, 2008 - 9:17 PM

This past week, Roadguy finally conquered one of his New Year's resolutions: I rode my bike to work.

Serious bicyclists are permitted to chuckle at this humble 4-mile feat -- and at the fact that it took me until October to do it. But I had my reasons for hesitating to make my first bicycle commute since college.

I had to pick a day that I wouldn't need my car to do my job. I don't have the outerwear to bike in the rain or snow, and a heat wave would've required hauling a change of clothes and a towel. I also wanted to make sure I didn't have any appointments after work.

The stars aligned on Wednesday. I managed to fit my work supplies and my lunch into my backpack. I grabbed my helmet, bike gloves, a blue rubber band to keep my pant leg out of my bike chain, an old gel seat pad, and my front and rear lights, just in case.

I then noticed that my color scheme was the opposite of what safety experts would recommend: The coat, backpack, bike and even the gel seat were all black. A bright orange safety vest that I keep in my car is on the small side, so I wrapped it around the backpack to make myself more visible to drivers.

Downtown Minneapolis is currently home to more excavating equipment than the entire Iron Range, so I mapped out a route on side streets, the Midtown Greenway and the dedicated bike lane on Park Avenue.

I've never been a huge fan of road biking, and this year's spate of fatalities hasn't helped. But aside from a few left-turning drivers who got a bit close and some grumbling from my legs (what's happening, and why is it happening before noon?), the ride turned out to be fine. My drive to work takes 11 or 12 minutes, and I made it to the bike-parking area in exactly 20.

I probably should've brought the towel, though -- below-50 temperatures weren't enough to stop the sweat. (There's a 1940s-era locker room in the Strib's basement. It's never been remodeled, but it has seven showers.)

As my workday dragged on, I furrowed my brow at the setting sun. But I put the white light on the handlebars and the red light on my back pocket, and the trip home was a minute quicker than the trip in.

While my feet pedaled, my mind did a cost-benefit analysis. If you count the locking and unlocking, my commuting time doubled, but I got 40 minutes of exercise. I saved, at the very most, a dollar's worth of gasoline, but no dollar is to be sneezed at these days.

In the interest of research, I gave it a try again Thursday. I took a different route and learned that Lowry Hill feels much more like a hill if you're on a bike.

I stopped for a few groceries on the way home, and as I was stuffing a half-gallon of juice into my backpack, I realized that I'd walked all over the store with my red light still flashing on my back pocket. (It worked -- no shopping carts crashed into me.)

Overall, I have no epiphany to report. I didn't suddenly become like my co-workers who break their arms in crashes and still revel in biking through sleet. I won't be selling my car or surrendering my space in the company parking lot.

But I felt a sense of accomplishment, one I don't normally have upon completing a commute. And if a guy with a 17-year-old bike, reluctant legs and a minimal amount of gear can pedal to work two days a year, maybe more of us could give it a whirl.

Jim Foti can be reached at 612-673-4491 or at roadguy@startribune.com.

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