I spent a lot of evenings daydreaming on the southbound 405. And the 105 West. And the 605 South. And the 91 West. At 5 miles per hour. For 2.5 hours. I would daydream about riding my bike, going on a long run, maybe doing the occassional lap swim. instead, I crawled along the pavement with a few thousand other cars, snaking my way through an endless maze of clogged lanes, sagging overpasses, and creaking bridges, all bathed in the thick, smoky Los Angeles Basin air. When I got home, I would think briefly about working out, change my mind, eat a big dinner, get some rest, get back on the road and repeat the journey in reverse.

And repeat. And repeat. For about 6 years.

My wife worked in Pasadena, so "thankfully" her commute was only 1.5 hours each way. When the little ones were born, I wanted to see them grow up with a living example of 2 healthy parents...after 3.5 years, I just wanted to see them PERIOD.

We finally packed everyone up and moved to Seattle last August. The week before we left, I made a snap decision to sell my car - if we were going to commit to responsible living in a compact urban environment, I reasoned, we would only need 1 car. Between the Seattle Metro system and the bike lanes/trails within the city, why would I need to drive at all? As with every major decision, there were unanticipated challenges, serendipitous advantages and just plain fun surprises.

Selling my car and committing to commuting on the bike as much as possible (so far, around 60-80 miles a week), has been one of the healthiest decisions I've ever made. It has driven healthier choices in my sleeping patterns, eating habits and even financial decisions. But the amount of work required to think ahead, schedule far in advance, prepare for contingencies, etc, has also made it one of the most difficult endeavors I've ever undertaken.

Commuting by bike is such a non-trivial exercise. Lay out work clothes the night before. Charge the halogen lights. Go through equipment checks (tire pressure, small light batteries, gears, shifters, etc). Load the trailer (laptop, work clothes, toiletries, towels). Check locks and locate all keys. Locate cell phone, check that the wallet has the YMCA ID card, regular ID and contingency cash. And this is before I even clip in! Ironically, the physical test of riding to work is the part I worry about the least. Showing up to work and realizing you forgot to pack your work shoes is a much bigger fear! Yes, it did happen, and yes, it was a loooong day.

I want to connect with others who either have taken on this challenge, are currently doing it, (even if just occassionally), or are thinking about it in the future. There are so many issues that seemed ancillary or even completely tangential when I first began, that revealed themselves to be vital and absolutely essential as the process unfolded. Likewise, areas I thought mattered, (saving money, preparing for a triathlon, losing weight, etc), seemed to fade against the backdrop of more urgent and pressing issues, (road safety, community development/responsibility, fuel consumption, community health, etc).

At the end of the day, though, its a blast. I'm riding a bike to work, for crying out loud. I get to see the sun come up over Lake Union. I attack Capitol Hill like I'm scaling the Pyranees, even though I'm about 30 mph slower than the slowest Tour rider, and pulling a BOB trailer behind me. I get to pedal like a kid along the Burke Gilman trail with other cyclists, rollerbladers, joggers and walkers, on my way to work - not a separate and distinct workout activity (which is great, too), but as an integral part of my routine, something I can repeat every weekday without losing time at home with my family or compromising my commitment at work. If anything, it's improved my outlook and performance in both of those areas.

There is one other thing, too. I realized the other day I don't daydream anymore on my commute. Living it out tends to do that, I think.