#YIMBY2016 Dispatch #1

As I was taking notes during Sonja Trauss’ kickoff speech yesterday morning, I wrote myself a little sidebar of terms that could’ve populated a YIMBY bingo sheet: ADUs, bike lanes, neighborhood email lists.

You could do that for any conference (imagine the social-justice terminologies that would come up at something like SACRPH; most wouldn’t fit on a single bingo square), but here, where a whole bunch of hyper-concerned, above-average-involved individuals are obviously wrangling with how to bring back what we’re talking about here to where they live—and turn it into something actionable—it made me laugh a bit.

Sonja’s speech was good for this crowd; she’s is the seemingly never-ending font of enthusiasm behind the Bay Area Renters Federation. Much writing has been devoted to her vibe, which rides largely on showing up and making people pay attention to the fact that there are demands in San Francisco for something other than the preservation of the value of historic single-family homes. While I disagreed with her comment on growing up with an anti-suburban bias and seeing that broaden (most of the country lives in suburbs, maybe by honest choice or maybe because we’ve subsidized the hell out of them; regardless, suburbs are still the default operating standard for Where Americans Live), she effectively linked integration with housing affordability. We can’t count on liberals, or even ourselves, to integrate neighborhoods, even as that’s the best way to bring the benefits of mixed-income places to everyone.

There was only one session timeslot today. I went to Anna Fahey’s presentation on communicating Seattle’s Housing Affordability and Livability Index. Anna is the communications director of Seattle’s Sightline Institute and comes from a background of climate communications, another field in which facts don’t play well in the face of high-key emotions. Sightline performed a media audit in advance of the vote on HALA in order to understand how people were talking about the potential of increased density in their neighborhoods. (I realize now that this isn’t Sightline’s first rodeo with media audits and resulting talking points. Here’s something it put together for green jobs.) I need to ask Anna for a copy of density media audit, but the major takeaways were that people aren’t swayed by facts; new buildings (perhaps condos) replacing old favorites is an emotional wave you can’t counteract; “density” scares people but easy, common words like “enough housing” are more palatable. I think all of this is fairly intuitive, but it’s nice to have backed up by research.

Here are some concepts I’m thinking about:

The left, progressivism, what have you: To me, YIMBYism seems borne out of a techno-liberatrian view on regulations, but maybe I get that vibe because I lived in San Francisco and read a lot of the Twitter, the rallying cry of which basically, “Build it all! And also deregulate!” (This is valid.) One thing about this movement that seems weird to me is that there have *always* been affordability problems with housing—increasingly so post-recession, I will grant—but now that it’s smacking those who should be able to afford housing in the face, it’s a marketable problem. I mean, I made $85,000 in San Francisco and paid $1,350 a month to live in a group house on top of a hill. This was not that bad, but my long-term prospects for housing were shared spaces subject to a landlord’s whims. I wasn’t down about this because I was going to leave San Francisco, I knew it. But I get semi-depressed thinking about what I’d have to do to move back to D.C., which is where I actually want to be living. Anyway, there seems to be some sort of dithering over whether YIMBYism is left or right or somewhere in between, and whose party and ideology can best represent the myriad ideas it holds. To be honest, I’m not really sure it matters—some objectively good ideas are liberal, and some are conservative. While I fall well on the liberal side, I also know that the things I love best about, say, public transit and density, like their economic ROI, are straightforwardly conservative. There are some occasions where the market is obviously straining against regulations (San Francisco), and other places where sensible regulations could provide a check on an inefficient market (Cleveland, or any other mid-size, middle-America city).

Who’s here: I’ve only met one person who works for an elected official. There are many advocates here, some full-time at organizations like Sightline and some volunteers. The people who aren’t day-job YIMBYs seem largely to work in software. There are a few people affiliated with what seem to be socially responsible developers. Even though this is an unconference and you didn’t need to provide any credentials to attend, I am definitely the outlier in that my employment does not match my personal interests whatsoever, that I am from Cleveland, and that I’m not the leader of some sort of initiative. It’s cool, #YIMBY2016, I’m not too proud of myself either; I’d happily take on the mantle of Cleveland’s full-time transportation advocate as soon as I find a grant that will allow me to quit my job and still pay my mortgage. Geographically, there is a whole bunch of San Francisco, Seattle, Portland, and Boston people, in addition to our hosts in Boulder. I am doing my best to speak up for the not-so-hot areas of the nation. (This blog may just turn entirely into an attempt to speak up for the not-so-hot areas of the nation.)

Who are we going to talk to in the future: This entire thing is so blatantly white, it’s almost painful. It feels…squicky? I understand that it was the first year and that donors for this kind of conversation are not exactly plush. I feel incredibly lucky to have received a scholarship that covered my airfare and hotel stay even though I don’t do this kind of work full-time. (I used to pay out of pocket to go to APA for my own personal enrichment, and it was steep.) And isn’t it really important to pull in the people who aren’t directly engaged in this? I think everyone was sensitive to the diversity issues, and to be fair, there was a surprising fluidity in age and gender. But the whiteness was real. We gotta do better next year.

How much do people dislike stuff just because it looks new: Famously, people once hated bungalows. Is there kneejerk opposition to condos in part because they are generally snoozy glass boxes? The opposition to new housing is complex and multi-layered. But I can’t help but think that design plays a role.

Nothing is a monolith: #notallliberals, #notallconservatives, #notallsuburbs, #notallcities. Everything contains multitudes! The affordability and supply problems facing Seattle and San Francisco are actually not limited to Seattle and San Francisco, though they work differently in different places. For example, I just saw a neighbor in my Facebook feed bemoaning the new construction of single-family homes on empty lots, because they cost $200,000, and who would pay for that? We don’t need those in the Shoreway! But, we do, because the Shoreway is one of maybe four Cleveland neighborhoods that’s in demand. If we don’t build now, we’re going to be facing Seattle-ish problems later. I have infinite examples of this. But I think it’s useful to remember that while we’re all special snowflakes, there’s a lot to learn from other places.


We’ll get better, whenever

Reposting this from my Facebook. This is where this should’ve gone, anyway. Many updates coming soon, I hope.

This time eight years ago, I was in the process of transferring out of CU-Boulder. Like many college freshman, I realized that my chosen university was not a great fit for me, and fled to something more manageable. (Go Terps.) I wound up at Boulder in the first place because CU is one of the few schools with an undergraduate urban planning program, and that’s what I wanted to do. It’s still what I want to do. I am generally bummed out that it’s not the thing I do, and in the time since my freshman year I’ve made a career out of false starts in that direction.

I was graciously granted a scholarship to ‪#‎yimby2016‬ this weekend, a coalition that I hope will spark a more reasonable discourse, and result in better policies, around affordability, livability, and transportation in cities of every size in our country. It’s meaningful that I’m able to attend a conference about these issues adjacent to the place I believed would give me what I needed to break into those fields.

As goofy as it sounds, I often feel like planning, transportation, and land use are parties whose doors I’m scrabbling at, begging to be let in. I especially want to be doing this work in Cleveland, which, for all its seemingly intractable complications, *will* someday face San Francisco and D.C.-esque affordability issues, at a much broader scale than just, say, Ohio City.

I’m excited to be a very small part of what I hope will be a very large movement toward inclusive, accessible places, if only for just a weekend.

(For reference.)


Left and Leaving

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My going-away party (via Jenna)

You tend to talk a lot about moving when you’re, um, moving. Everyone wants to hear how things are going, and everyone has wisdom to impart. Which is good—I need to keep hearing that D.C. will be here, that New York will be here, that I can always come back. Everyone wants to know if I’m excited.

At the risk of sounding like a total asshole, I’m skeptical about San Francisco.

I say this all the time, but it’s true: I have the life I never knew I always wanted in D.C. Sixteen-year-old me would be in awe of the fact that my going-away party was at Black Cat’s backstage, and present-day me is unendingly grateful for the relationships I’ve established here. I’m comfortable, but not bored. I like my neighborhood, I like what I do on weekends, I like my yoga studio, I like the bars I go to, and so on. I like that I don’t need to experiment; I still try new places and new things, but I know what works for me. I appreciate this.

I know those things will come in time in a new city. Given that I don’t have friends from high school or college, I’ve already made friends as an adult, and I’m confident I can do so again. But I really, really like D.C. I’m not moving because I want a change, or because I want the experience of living in a different city. I’m moving because I got a job that I believe will position me well in the future, and because I did not earn a similar opportunity in D.C.

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Matching Fryes (via Anqi)

San Francisco is fine. I get why people like it. It’s naturally beautiful, but there’s only so many times you can bank on natural beauty making up for social experiences, you know? (I woke up looking at snow-covered mountains every morning in Boulder. It is still one of the prettiest places in the world to me. But I didn’t want to live there after nine months, so I left.) There’s stuff everywhere—like, even the far-flung neighborhoods have stuff (because density). The dining scene is great. All issues with gentrification in the Mission aside, Craftsmen & Wolves makes a baller salted chocolate chip cookie. You can bike to Sausalito. It’s a very livable city, and the day-to-day costs are lower than in D.C. or New York.

But at the end of the day, I am a tightly wound East Coast exceptionalist, and I would not feel as if I missed out on anything if I lived at 16th and Newton streets NW for the rest of my life. Seriously! I have lived hard here, in a great way—it’s why I don’t have a D.C. bucket list, which is another thing people like to ask about when you are planning to move across the country. But my “bucket list” is getting as much time in with my friends as possible. I’ll miss them infinitely more than Ben’s Chili Bowl, or the cherry blossoms, or the free museums, or even Friday nights at Smoke & Barrel. Sure, there’s stuff I’d like to do: ride my bike, try new restaurants (I haven’t made it to Roses’s Luxury), return to old favorites (Daikaya), sit on my balcony and read a book. I’m devastated to be missing a summer of Fort Reno.What will I do without Black Cat? I wish I had spent more time on the waterfront, in Meridian Hill Park, in Anacostia. I will miss being so close to New York, to Philly, to Atlanta, to Boston.

And all those things and places and events are great because they are filled with great people. I know that I can go to, say, Fort Reno alone, but that I’ll see friends and acquaintances that I genuinely enjoy. It is stability in relationships and confidence in my social life that I’ll miss the most, and no bucket list can give me enough of that.

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Walking home from Black Cat with Justin (via Kate)


Marketing! at Transpo Camp 2014

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Transpo Camp was, like, a month ago. This past week, I finally got around to assembling notes from my session, on marketing transportation and planning.

I didn’t plan this session. I didn’t have an agenda or a list of things to talk about. But I do feel frustrated with my work, sometimes, because I, effectively, have to market WABA and feel like I don’t really know what I’m doing. And: Marketing is so traditional, can be quite boring, and encompasses way too much for people to find it an interesting, useful, and important part of the transportation field, which is so wrong. It was in that spirit that I pitched this session at the last minute.

I was very pleased with how the whole thing went. The room was mostly all people who do public-facing communications in some capacity, and I was able to moderate a lot of very smart comments on the trials and tribulations of a type of work that is basically throwing it at the wall and seeing what sticks, over and over and over and over and over again—until something sticks, and can then be justified  in the future. No sweeping theories were presented here, just some ideas that might help us all tighten our communications work.

I tried to get at all this with this (month-out, so take it with a grain of salt) write-up of the session. It’s below the jump. Read the rest of this entry »


Jan Gehl at the National Building Museum, 2014 Edition

Nearly three years ago, I wrote this, about Jan Gehl speaking at the National Building Museum.  Gehl and his associate at Gehl Architects, Birgitte Svarre, have a new book out—How to Study Public Life—so he was back at the Building Museum, with Svarre, to talk about designing cities for people.

Nothing Gehl and Svarre presented is new. Everything they tout—studying human behavior and designing around it, which necessitates easing dependence on cars—has been used and proven as the best way to design and manage public space since Jane Jacobs wrote The Death and Life of Great American Cities. But there were a few interesting takeaways:

Copehagen has a department of public life, apparently: Gehl quipped that Copenhagen’s department of transportation keeps cars happy, but the department of public life is designed to keep people happy. The department of public life grew out of a long legacy of academic research, at the University of Copenhagen, on public life; the city ultimately took over the role of studying how people interact with the built environment and makes design decisions and recommendations based on that research. We often lament the lack of good data on how people use bikes (seriously, if you ever read a statistic on bike use in the U.S., it’s likely American Community Survey data, which is not bad, but not good, either—more on that later), and something like a department of public life, that’s research-heavy with the intent of making design recommendations, just sounds…really wonderful. I need to look into this further.

Studying public life is not weird: Svarre’s presentation had an image of an Italian news article from the ’60s about Jan Gehl, this oddball posted up with a notebook and sketchbook in Italian public plazas, watching how people moved around. We still think that observing human behavior is weird, evidently, because we don’t do enough of it in planning. But it’s not weird! Holly Whyte and Jane Jacobs and Christopher Alexander—all Americans; how weird is it that the U.S. blows at public spaces in comparison to Europe (see this recent Atlantic Cities piece by local guy Ralph Buehler on reasons the U.S. is more car-dependent than Europe), but so many great public-space thinkers are American?—provide plenty of reasons why good design stems from understanding how people use whatever it is that you’re designing.

Children are an indicator species: If kids can safely walk to school, everything is A-OK. Children can be mobile, safely and healthily, if we plan for them to be mobile. There’s nothing wrong with a 4 or 5-year-old riding a bike for transportation if there’s safe infrastructure in which they can ride.

The things we say we want in cities—livability, safety, accessibility—are not possible if everyone is driving: They aren’t. They just aren’t. You can’t have a healthy, safe population if all its members are behind the wheels of cars. Gehl insisted that cities designed to keep people from moving (by designing for cars, not people) are worse than smoking. Bold statement, that, but I don’t disagree. Even the most windowshielded car defender will admit that they like the charm of walkability. But you don’t get it both ways. You can’t have walkability, authenticity, and a healthy city and parking spaces for an entire populace of drivers.

I bought a copy of How to Study Public Life. What convinced me to buy it in this year of not buying stuff is that it’s a collection of studies on public life, so it’s part guidebook, part nicely designed annotated bibliography. I’m looking forward to getting into it and seeing what I have and haven’t read. I also think it will be useful to explore the connections between urban planning, human behavior, and UX design, a nexus that I am particularly interested in lately (more on that later, I think!).

Many thanks to Allie for the invite. This was not on my radar, though it should’ve been—the National Building Museum’s programming is consistently excellent.

I Storified my tweets and others. See that below the jump. Read the rest of this entry »


January Leesburg Loop Ride Report

Because no one wants to squander a sunny, 50-degree day in January, and because a few of us (ahem, me) haven’t ridden our bikes any reasonable distance in awhile (well, there was that long haul to Lost Rhino in December but, you know, I can do better), Kevin, Ryan, Brian, Mary, Ed, and I took off on the Leesburg loop on Sunday.

It went: Attack Custis at maximum possible speed (for me, anyway), headwind, headwind, headwind, headwind, coffee, headwind, headwind, consider feasibility of napping, pizza, highway, ferry, hills, coasting, hills, hills, hills, coasting, Capital Crescent, limp along Rock Creek, meander through the zoo, curse the stub of a bike lane on Adams Mills Road, painfully urge bike up Kenyon Street, showerbeer, collapse.

Ferry!, via Ryan

I had a really lovely Sunday. Many thanks to Mary and Ed for allowing Brian, Ryan, Kevin, and I to crash their ride, since clearly all of us wanted to get out on our bikes but didn’t want to plan anything—and for taking photos! M&E are the best ride photo-takers. Great company, great coffee, great pizza, great weather, and a great way to spend a nice January day.

Oh, also, I rode clipless and didn’t fall or crash. So, that’s going well.

Route on Strava here.


Stuff I’ve Done: Her for Atlantic Cities

Last week, I was on Atlantic Cities, writing about Spike Jonze’s new film, Her. The atmosphere and setting—future-ish L.A.—is really lovely and depends heavily on the use of public transit. I haven’t written about pop culture in awhile, and I’m really pleased with how this turned out. Read it here.

Thanks to the many people at Transportation Camp and in my life who said nice things about the piece. I understand traffic, the Internet, and what kind of writing gets traction, but I’m still amazed that it’s been as widely read as it has. I hope to do more of this stuff!


Transportation Camp D.C. 2014

Transportation Camp is great. It’s just…great. I’ve been disappointed by the American Planning Association conference and its surrounding events so many times that by the time Transpo Camp rolls around, I forget that it’s possible for something referred to as an unconference not to suck. As an experience, Transpo Camp is enjoyable and does an amazing job of not prioritizing tech or transportation over one or the other, but it’s also phenomenal networking: It’s a great way to talk to everyone you want to meet that’s attending the Transportation Research Board meeting, especially if TRB is too pricey for you to attend.

Also, a bunch of people I really, really like personally are guaranteed to be there, and what better way to spend a Saturday than hanging out with friends who share all of your niche interests?

I proposed a few sessions and got looped in on another, ultimately presenting at two. I’m very pleased with how both went. I’ve got some follow-up to do on my marketing session—I collected emails and have some notes and comments to get to that group, so please stand by—but I’m so, so proud of it. I’ve run sessions, discussions, and presentations at various events before (including Transpo Camp; last year, I did a thing on women and bikes) and am generally OK with speaking in public, but I felt really confident in moderating this discussion and making sure everyone who wanted to got a chance to speak, and I think I brought some good content to the table. There’s absolutely ways I can improve,* but no one walked out (which is incredible, because sessions at Transpo Camp are basically structured to be walked out on so that attendees can maximize their time) and everyone in the room was able to share their grievances and successes.

I asked everyone to introduce themselves and say one thing they are tasked with doing during their average workday. Too often, we see marketing and communications jobs described with broad, buzzy, empty phrases like “work across platforms,” “satisfy organizational goals,” and “reach audiences.” Like, yes, most humans with the ability to think critically are also capable of doing all those things—but they give absolutely no indication as to the actual kind of work communications and marketing people do. Answers ranged from “draft and send emails” (mine) to “translation,” “review contracts,” “post to social media,” “take photos,” and “listen to Pandora.” Photo via @jpvelez78

Jaime FearerMatt Johnson, and I ran an afternoon session on blogging with policy goals in mind. Jaime and Matt talked about Greater Greater Washington, and I talked about the WABA blog. We were able to answer a lot of really smart questions about blogging, from some of the technical aspects (what CMSes we use, how we source content, how we schedule posts) to the more conceptual stuff (how we approach the digital divide, how we word things, why we use blogs instead of websites or social media). If you have any questions about anything related to this stuff, I’m happy to answer them; making the WABA blog into something legitimate was a goal of mine when I started, and I’ve achieved it. I don’t know everything, but if it’s helpful, I’d love to share what’s worked for us.

Blobbing! Image via @ericfidler

I attended Ashley Robbins and Andrew Austin‘s session on making buses sexy (I’ll post my notes in a subsequent post), and a session dedicated to visualizing connections and turning them into concrete actions, i.e., networking. It was a great opportunity for me to tell everyone that I’m looking for a job, particularly in transportation, in San Francisco. It was also terribly embarrassing, because I didn’t have any business cards. So, hey, are you based in San Francisco and hiring? Hire me! My resume’s here, my LinkedIn’s here, and you can reach me at lxdlnbc@gmail.com.**

I’ll be at Andy Palanisamy‘s tweetup at Open City tomorrow (it starts at 5 p.m.), and then I’m headed to the Transit Oriented Beer happy hour (part of the San Francisco Bay Young Professionals in Transportation), this time with business cards. If you want to get in on some of the TRB action without going to TRB, I suggest stopping by those events or figuring out what else is going on around the conference and dropping in. Transportation is a field that I can’t say enough good things about: Everyone I’ve met that works in it just kicks major ass professionally and is a genuinely wonderful person personally. Maybe next year I’ll be in a position to attend TRB itself.

ETA: This delightful photo is from the post-Transpo Camp #transitnerdherd dinner. #transitnerdherd is an ever-expanding squad of those of us who are friends and do transportation-y things. We first got together on a planned trip in 2011, riding the Capitol Limited back from Minneapolis (I blogged about that, but it’s disappeared), and the hashtag has taken off since. These are the people I’m very happy to see at Transpo Camp.

Photo via @tweetsupa

*Maybe by, um, preparing—I didn’t even have an outline. Or maybe that was for the best! I am still not sure. Kendra and Ashley were kind enough to stand up at the front of the room, because I was late, and were there throughout the session with me to fill in gaps in conversation while I was furiously scribbling stuff on the whiteboard (thanks to Mauricio for the major assist in procuring more markers).

**I am being completely shameless about this because being completely shameless about searching for employment paid off in the past. Anyway, I’m taking a UX design class through General Assembly that runs through April and it cost $$, so I’d like to get through that and be in San Francisco by May. Again, my resume’s here, my LinkedIn’s here, and you can reach me at lxdlnbc@gmail.com.


September and October Centuries/Life Aggregate

I’ve abandoned WordPress for Tumblr for the bazillionth time.

That said, I’m still riding centuries. After Cumberland Valley, I rode the New York City century, Backroads, and Seagull. You can click on those links and read my not-so-thought-out recaps on, yeah, Tumblr.

In between the latter two, I did an 80-miler on the W&OD. It was OK. I was cranky most of the day and asked Chris if we could turn around at Leesburg instead of completing a full century. We got some good sandwiches, but I still haven’t ridden the W&OD all the way to Purcellville.

Route- and snack-wise and overall, Cumberland Valley was my favorite organized century this season, but the others had their merits. The New York City century was a cool way to see parts of Queens I will never, ever go to again; I felt very strong for the majority of Backroads and maintained around 17MPH on the flats even when I was riding alone; I was able to pace with Chris for the entirety of Seagull and we finished in 5:37, which I’m incredibly, incredibly proud of.

Here’s a picture of me looking happy at Backroads:

Century season is over, but I’m committed to the one-per-month thing, especially since I’m getting faster.

Read the rest of this entry »


August Century Ride Report

I’m still riding a century per month, even if I’m not good at blogging about doing so. Part of the reason is that I was having trouble getting my Garmin to connect to any computer. It turns out I was using the wrong cord. Not all USB cords are alike, it seems!

Chris and I rode to Baltimore in July. It was incredibly hot and we only committed to a full century at, like, 11 p.m. the night before. Chris wrote his cue sheet the morning of, then left it behind. We forgot sunscreen. My Garmin died at mile 79, around the Greenbelt Metro station. This was also the point at which I slowed down significantly; severe headwinds appeared out of nowhere, we went the wrong way on the Paint Branch Trail through College Park, and I bonked hard in the last five miles. It was not my best day, but I did it.

You can see 80 percent of our ride on Strava. I modified slightly the output from May’s Monument to Monument ride, taking out the BWI loop (the mileage for which is made up for, I think, on the Paint Branch Trail) and simplifying some of the turns.

I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my right hand and wrist since I began riding my Terry Tailwind, no doubt exacerbated by near-daily hot yoga and the occasional Crossfit WOD. Chris and I had a very nice dinner at Table during which he had to cut my lamb for me, which was embarrassing enough to get me to see an orthopedist. The numbness, immobility, and loss of strength in my fourth and pinky fingers is related to ulnar nerve damage. This sucks—and also makes it very hard to type, which is what I do all day. My orthopedist told me, essentially, to stop riding my bike until my followup appointment in September.

I thought this might derail my plans for a century per month. But a combination of spontaneity and stupidity led me to register for the Cumberland Valley century, which I rode with Ryan and Kevin on Saturday. I got the Serotta in rideable shape with assists from Chris and Justin, registered for the century on Friday, and did my best to drink a lot of water that night.

The ride, which involved a mountain, kicked my ass.  My head started pounding—and I started talking to myself—around mile 70. I rode with a flat and didn’t notice for what Ryan says was about 40 miles (it was probably less, but it was a leak, not a pop, so who knows), which dragged me down in the 80–90-mile span. And, the start location doubled as the lunch rest stop, which made it very, very tempting to quit at mile 64 and call it a metric. My Garmin output says there was over 6,000 feet of climbing. Washington County is beautiful, but no joke.

That said, the weather was as perfect as possible for early August, wind wasn’t an issue, there were beautiful views, and I’m very, very happy that we didn’t bail. This was the most challenging ride I’ve done—maybe ever, maybe since the time I thought I was going to die on a highway in Poland last summer—and it was  rewarding. I got custard at the finish. I drank a showerbeer with such gusto I didn’t take a picture of it. I told a bunch of people I rode my bike up and around a mountain. I passed out on my couch at 8 p.m.

Do as I say, not as I do—though the Serotta was a vast improvement over the Terry, my fingers are clawing again today. But I can endorse the Cumberland Valley Cycling Club and the century, absolutely. We might have confused a few roadies with our Brooks saddles (and with the fact that I rode this in Vans), but the rest stops were well-stocked—with nectarines, which might beat out oranges as my favorite rest-stop snack—the barbecue at lunch was delicious, and some of those downhills were really, really nice.

Strava output here. Props to the other #bikedc riders who tackled centuries this weekend, and thanks to Ryan for getting the Cumberland Valley century on my radar.