Biking

Yesterday my “little” brother and I biked the 13.2 miles to my school, where we met our parents to show off my room. We made the trek in 40 minutes at speeds averaging 19.7 miles per hour, fast enough to pass a motorized scooter (Z took the shoulder; I smugly chose the passing lane).

That’s pretty fast, in my book. Thankfully, Z let me ride his street-friendly, light 27-speed; he clunked along on my much bulkier (but more comfortable, I think) mountain bike.

Forty minutes has always been in the back of my mind as an okay bike commute. I figure that if I don’t jog (30 minutes), drive to work (20 minutes), and don’t shower at home (15 minutes), that gives me over an hour to ride bike and wash up, once I get to school.

After I showed off my fun classroom technology, Z and I drove home with Mom while Dad rode the same 13.2 miles but in the other direction. He made it in 48 minutes–even though he had the 400-feet elevation climb working against him and no compatriots. If I can make the homebound ride in time comparable to Dad’s, then all in all, biking to work will cost me naught but about half an hour of extra evening commute time (plus evening showers, if you’re taking this tallying very seriously).

The thing is, without Z to push me I’m not sure if I can make the ride in 40 minutes. He is so driven that I couldn’t help but be driven, too, to pedal faster and faster. At one point, when I was leading, I asked him how my bike was holding up for him. “I’m keeping up,” he said.

I kept thinking to myself, “Well, maybe I should get a bike like Z’s, so I can make this ride this fast,” a thought that crumbled rather quickly when I remembered that Z was riding my bike and, yes, still keeping up.

Which means I’ll have to work up to his stature.