Year end mileage and goals 2008

7730 miles
For the record
Commuter bike starting odo: 3072, ending: 5818, total: 2746 commuter miles
Road bike starting odo: 3481, ending: 8457, total: 4666 roadie miles

Disclaimers:
I sometimes ride the commuter as a mountain bike, or on errands, so those miles are not strictly "going to work" miles.

I broke my Sigma computer part way through the year so I had to guess the odometer miles. I know I'm close, but I'm pretty sure I cheated myself out of a few.

Goals report:

• Oregon Coast tour (Done)
• Giro di Peninsula (Bonus, Done)
• Sequoia Century (Done)
• Waves to Wine (Done)
• Tierrabella Century (Done)
• Wildflower Century (Done)
• Wine Country Century (Done)
• Davis Double (Done!!!!!!)
• Seattle to Portland (Done!)
• Foxy's Fall Century (100K) (Done)

Tricia's mileage

Commuter bike: 1937 commuter miles
Road bike: 4114 roadie miles
Total: 6041

Busted

Maybe it's the lightweight Mavic 517 rim, or the number of curb cuts I ride over, or the weight of the junk I carry. Whatever the reason, I just noticed I'd actually broken the rim on my commuter bike. What a drag.

I had to decide on a new wheel or repair. I went with repair. I'm keeping the XT hub and having the Wheel Peddler build me a new wheel using a Macic 717 rim. I'll cost. I'm not sure I made the most cost effective choice, but I'm hoping it pays off by ending up with a wheel that is well made and will last forever.

I'm so tired of fog

I am I am I am I am so freakin' tired of tule fog. Today it was much lighter, and I could actually see across the street, but all too often it's been at maximum density.

Here in Antioch, the Bay Area, but really on the delta near the edge of the valley, the fog won't stop. I'm not a huge fan of sub-40 riding, but I can do it. Toss in wet yucky fog and all the fun is gone.

Sea fog can be nice, it has texture. It comes and goes. It's sometimes playful.
The fog here is Stephen King style, dark and relentless, with no redeeming values.

Just to taunt us, it hangs in the low areas where we live, but leaves the peaks clear, just so we know what we're missing. Even a drive over Kirker Pass can reveal a sunny crisp sunglasses day before you descend back into the muck.

The dampness seeps into your clothes even more than rain. It collects on your glasses. It drips off your helmet. It makes you, even if you have a geek-style blinky light, invisible to the cars that seem to speed down the road beyond all reason.

In the "light" of the day, and I use the word light to mean "not pitch black" it's still a depressing gray of evil that looks like smoke, but without any warmth. In the dark it makes a hole in your heart.

Bring me rain. Or bring me sun. Bring me fluffy clouds. This has got to stop.