Bike sharing, a transportation concept embraced around the world but only slowly making its way to the United States, has come to North Carolina. Charlotte B-Cycle began operating yesterday, with 200 bikes located at 20 stations in Uptown, including several along Charlotte’s Lynx light rail line.
Bike sharing programs offer the use of bikes to people who don’t have them. They’re typically intended to help people run errands or commute to work in urban areas. Bikes are parked at strategically placed stations around town. Participants in in the programs typically pay a usage fee. Generally, you can ride the bikes anywhere (they have GPS tracking), but you must pick them up and leave them at a station. (Lose a bike in the Charlotte system and it will set you back $1,000.) According to Wikipedia, bike sharing programs were operating in 165 cities around the world as of May 2011. France had the most programs, with 29, followed by Spain, 25; and China and Italy, both with 19.
The Charlotte program will allow riders 30 minutes of free use, making it an ideal option for quick trips in Uptown. Each additional 30 minutes is $4.Twenty-four-hour passes are available for $8 — perfect if you’re just visiting for the day — and annual passes, a good option for urban dwellers and downtown workers, are available for $65. Memberships can be purchased online or at the stations.
However, through Sunday the fee is being waived.
Bikes in the Charlotte program as in most bike share programs, are designed for short trips (see photo). All come equipped with baskets, lights and a bell. The bikes, which resemble beach cruisers, have three speeds and are equipped with tires somewhere between a balloon tire and a road tire.
Similar B-Cycle programs are in place in 12 other U.S. cities, including Spartanburg, S.C. An effort is underway to bring bike sharing to the Triangle.
Charlotte’s B-Cycle program was launched with funding from Blue Cross Blue Shield of North Carolina’s new Get Outside North Carolina! initiative. That program promises to pump $4 million into bike and greenway projects around the state over the next four years. Two other programs in line for GO NC! funding include the two-mile Blue Loop greenway at the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh and the 15-mile Gary Shell Cross-City Trail linking Wilmington with the drawbridge to Wrightsville Beach. According to BCBSNC, every $1 invested in biking trails and walking paths can result in $3 in savings in medical expenses.read more
Note the MacIveresque use of my Camelback's rip cord to try and keep the rear shock attached to the seat tube.
Optimism. It may be the most important weapon in my training arsenal.
Yesterday, I was at Bruegger’s, bragging to my buddy Jason about how durable my mountain bike has been. About how it began life as an aluminum-frame Trek Fuel 70 a decade ago. About how it’s gone through three frames and how I’ve replaced, from wear, everything but the handlebars (I don’t ride hard, but I do ride a lot). We’ve been quite happy together, my Trek and I. Knock on wood? Bah! The notion seemed insincere.
Two hours later I was standing on a remote section of a remote trail staring at my rear shock absorber hanging from the frame’s broken seat tube. Not a time for debilitating pessimism.
I wasn’t overly concerned because Trek has been good in the past about honoring the lifetime frame warranty. In the past, Trek has been great about replacing the frame under the lifetime warranty. It’s not, however, an overnight process; the last time the frame broke there was an aluminum shortage and it took nearly two months to replace — which they did, with highly-coveted and significantly more expensive carbon.
Pardon me for a moment for a quick sermon. I bought the bike from The Spin Cycle, a shop that epitomized customer service and supporting the cycling community. When we bought our house in Cary, I can’t deny that it’s proximity to The Spin Cycle (2.3 miles) was an influencing factor. I bought three bikes from the shop, and every time I tried to do my own maintenance and repairs, they were always there to fix my mess (with nominal commentary). When I broke my frame the last time and it was apparent there would be a longer-than-normal wait, they gave me a loaner. When I opened the email on a cold January day in 2009 announcing The Spin Cycle was closing, I rushed over to offer my condolences. (And, I should note, get a great going-out-of-business deal on a headlamp.) I’ve continued to support — and benefit from — The Spin Cycle’s lineage. I take my bikes to Spin Cycle wrench Matt Lodder, who went on to start the Cycle Surgeon, and after getting my broken bike out of the woods and onto the car rack Monday, I took it to the Trek Bicycle Store in North Raleigh, owned by former Spin Cycle manager Jeff Roberts. Cyclists like me who need a strong support network, which describes the majority of us, wouldn’t be riding were it not for local bike shops. Think about that the next time you go online to save 50 cents on innertubes. Amen.
My only concern, standing there Monday with my crippled cycle? (Make that my main concern; there was still the matter of finding my way out of an unmarked trail network, then covering five miles on gravel forest road back to the car.) I have a race in less than two weeks and, a) this was supposed to be my last week of hard training (a week I desperately need) and b) I, um, was now short a bike.
Deep breath.
I knew I wouldn’t have my bike back in time for the race, which is in 11 days (though I was pleasantly surprised to later learn that the bike, new frame and all, would be ready in two weeks). No, problem, I thought, I’ll just borrow my stepson’s (a Gary Fisher niner, a hardtail but lighter and faster than my ride). It didn’t matter than Ben’s bike needed some work and probably wouldn’t be back from the aforementioned Surgeon until Friday at the earliest: I could still get in some vital training miles on my road and cyclocross bikes. And it didn’t even matter that it’s supposed to rain all week because — and this, I’ll admit, is pushing my optimism — I have a trainer. A couple of two-hour sessions on that thing will make anything, even the Off Road Assault on Mount Mitchell, the race I’m training for, doable. And really, with my skill set and physical set up, doable is plenty fine.
Optimism. It may not trump training, but from what I’ve heard about the challenge of ORAMM I best bring it with me to the start.
* * *
Like us on Facebook and get health, fitness and outdoors news throughout the day.read more
When I write a book proposal, I’m full of great ideas. If the proposal gets accepted, those ideas seem even better. Then, as reality draws near … .
Last year, UNC Press wondered if I’d be interested in writing a book about adventure in the Carolinas. Boy, would I? I came up with a proposal heavy on personal involvement. How better to tell a story than to actually be in the midst of it: It’s an approach I’ve sworn by in 20 years of adventure writing. If you want to convey the experience, you have to experience the experience.
For instance, if you want to describe what learning to scuba dive is really like, you embed yourself in a class of folks learning to scuba dive. That was a blast. If you want to give readers a sense of what it’s like to explore the wildest spots in the Carolinas, you tag along with people exploring the wildest spots in the Carolinas. Again, so much fun. And if you want to truly capture the addictive nature of mountain biking, you find someone who hasn’t been riding long, yet signs up for the toughest mountain bike race in the region and you agree to ride along to capture every exhilarating moment.
This is where an idea hatched a year ago to rubs raw against reality.
After asking around, I determined that perhaps the most challenging mountain bike race in the Southeast is a mid-July sufferfest called ORAMM — the Off Road Assault on Mount Mitchell. Starts in Old Fort, climbs up to the Blue Ridge Parkway, descends a little from the Blue Ridge Parkway, climbs to a higher part of the Blue Ridge Parkway, descends back to Old Fort. 63 miles, 11,000 feet of total climbing, lots and lots of technical trail. Word has it that ardent mountain bikers have given up the sport after doing this race. The ORAMM Web site offers this cheery insight to riders: “Have no illusions you can escape some type of injury on 63 miles of rough terrain. Whether it be an abrasion or a mental breakdown, everyone suffers in one way or another.”
Huh.
Part of the problem is that I’ve waited a little too long to face reality. Two weeks ago I happened to glance at the calendar and noticed a red smudge on July 22. I squinted; the smudge read “ORAMM!”
Better start training, I thought.
I should find solace in the plight of Daniel Hemp, who only started riding two years ago, like me, is doing his first ORAMM, and because of professional and family obligations only gets to train about once a week. But then I learned that Daniel is a spry 36 years of age and did the grueling Burn24, a 24-hour mountain bike race at Kerr Reservoir over Memorial Day weekend, solo, and finished 7th. “I won’t be in the top 50 at ORAMM,” he mused.
I was a little more encouraged by Melissa Cooper, who first did ORAMM in 2010.
Like me, she lives in the Triangle, and also like me, her training was restricted to local trails. Good trails here in the Triangle, but you’d need to ride for a week, round-the-clock, to rack up 11,000 feet of climbing.
“It was the hardest thing I had ever done,” Cooper says of ORAMM, “but at the same time I had a blast. I remember it like it was yesterday: the hike-a-bike up the switchbacks to the top of Kitsuma, often forgetting to unclip upon coming to a stop while descending Kistuma (much to the amusement of the rider behind me), the grassy-road that seemed to go on forever, the incredible views, the broiling heat during the trudge up Curtis Creek Road, the scary thunderstorm that started right when I got to the hike-a-bike at Heartbreak Ridge … .” Not only did she finish, but she did ORAMM again last year and will be at the start this year.
“Am I crazy to keep doing this ORAMM thing year after year?” she asks.
At 27, Melissa, you can afford to be a little crazy.
My problem is that at 56 I’m more than two Melissa’s. A 27-year-old can get away without training in the mountains for a mountain race. And a 36-year-old like Daniel can get away with riding just once a week training for an event of this magnitude. But can a 56-year-old who spaced out ORAMM until a month out survive a race in which, “It is not uncommon to see wildlife such as a wild cat or a black bear. Be ready to cope with any circumstances!! Please note that firearms are not permitted in certain areas.” Certain areas?
In the past 12 days, I’ve ridden 214 miles. Fifty of that was on the road bike and 164 on the mountain bike. Of the latter, 137 was on the forest roads at Umstead State Park, 27 on nearby single track. I’ve been riding roughly every other day, for 2 to 3 1/2 hours a shot. I’ve got another 10 days of hard training before I begin to taper. I need at least one six-hour ride and one four-hour ride in the mix. My legs are perpetually tired — though I can tell I’m getting stronger. Stronger, but strong enough to survive 63 miles and 11,000 feet of climbing? And outrunning black bears?
In January, I was 36 miles into the 42-mile Mountain Bike Marathon in Sanford when I joined up briefly with Steve Bevington. Steve, as it turned out, had done ORAMM the previous year. Perhaps it was the pain of the moment (we were both on the verge of cramping), but Steve, who is 48, said he enjoyed ORAMM, that the race we were doing, though shorter, in some ways was harder. Steve wound up finishing the MBM a little over two minutes ahead of me. He did ORAMM in 9 hours and 46 minutes and 42 seconds. By my admittedly convoluted conversion formula, I figure that means I should be able to break 10 hours. With just over two weeks to go, I think that projection sounds good.
Kinda like my proposal to do the race sounded more than a year ago.read more
I’m always on the lookout for a quick, effective workout. To share with you, my faithful readers, of course. But mainly for me. This morning, I may have struck gold.
Once or twice a week for the last decade, I’ve done an early morning mountain bike ride at Umstead State Park with my buddy Alan Nechemias. We ride the bridal trail network, sometimes throwing in some adjacent singletrack. We ride for an hour and a half to two hours, usually put in 20 to 25 miles. It’s a great workout.read more
Before: At last year's NTD cleanup of the Mountains-to-Sea Trail along Falls Lake, Freinds of the Mountains-to-Sea Trail Vice President Jeff Brewer gives out morning work orders.
There are roughly 200,000 miles of trail in the United States, according to the American Hiking Society. Of those that came about over the past couple of decades, the vast majority were created largely by volunteers. And of those that existed beforehand, it’s a good bet they’ve been maintained by volunteers. Without volunteers we wouldn’t have the growing system of trails we now have.read more
