An Ode to Human-Powered Commuting
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A happy Jeff enjoying the sunset over the Pacific Ocean while running home from work in Fort Bragg, CA.
I don’t know whether it was the rain or my alarm that woke me up. A northern-California-coast deluge came slamming down on the thin-roofed garage that I lived in. Well, I lived in my van, parked inside the garage (I convinced myself it was a “cute apartment”). It was 5:30am and I was smothered in blankets hiding from the cold in my unheated van. Tired but excited, I heaved my rusting sliding door open and hopped out into the cavernous, chilly, musty garage. The icy concrete floor was startling on my naked feet. I was soon dressed, donned my running pack, and set off into the pre-dawn solitude and rain. Guided by my headlight’s glow, I began my seven-mile run-commute under the watchful eyes of a few massive redwood trees.
My muted footsteps splashed in the water of a puddle-laced bike path along the Pacific Ocean. The raindrops reflected my headlight’s beam to create a blinding veil. Somewhere past this shimmering curtain, waves crashed into the rocky coastline. A flash of white caught my eye. I looked to my side just in time to see a skunk’s imposing arse pointed straight at me. Some hasty floundering in the dark and I managed to maneuver around the stanky striped critter. That’ll wake you up better than a cup of coffee. Within a few miles I felt a smile spread across my face. I started to giggle. Despite the rain, wind, and early wake-up, all I could think was this is ridiculous and so freaking fun. The sun isn’t even up yet and life has already started. I AM ALIVE…and thank god that skunk didn’t get me.
A bike path on an old train trestle stretching across in Pudding Creek in Fort Bragg, CA.
Can you think of a better way to start a day than lacing up a pair of shoes and going to play outside? I can’t. Maybe it’s even spectacularly dark, cold, and raining like it often was for me in California. But hey, you’re outside and you’re already living! Now imagine this play is not just a joyous time outside, but also your ride to work. Say whhatttt? That, my friends, is the brilliance of a human-powered commuting. Whether running, walking, bicycling, or unicycling (shout out to my friend that commutes by unicycle), human power is beyond a worthy way to get your butt where it needs to be.
I first stumbled into non-fossil fuel commuting when I was in the fifth grade. All I wanted to do every day was skateboard. Bless her soul, one day my mom let me skateboard to school. At 11, this one-mile commute gave me a chance to do the only thing I wanted to do (skateboard), while also instilling a tremendous sense of independence. Plus, I got to start my day skating. Hell yeah.
When it came time for middle school, my parents mostly refused to drive me to school. Instead of hopping in the car, they encouraged me to set off on foot and hoof the 30-minute walk with neighborhood friends. Not only did I learn how to become an exquisite power walker (I had a habit of leaving late), I also realized that I didn’t need to rely on cars to get around. I walked, skateboarded, and biked my way through middle and high school. Occasionally I biked in the pouring rain for shits and giggles. For some reason I was surprised to learn that no matter how fast you bike, your shoes still get wet. That was a soggy day of school.
As a so-called “adult,” I still can’t seem to shake that realization that cars aren’t necessary to get around. Why should I drive if I can walk/bike/run? I don’t want to pay for gas money or burn through gasoline if I don’t have to. There’s no reason I can’t get myself where I need to go with nothing but myself.
While living in the South American country of Bolivia, I volunteered at a local environmental education non-profit. At first, my commute consisted of hopping in a trufi (like a bus on a route, except it’s a taxi) to get to and from work. After a week or so, a new volunteer arrived. Her name was Beryl, and she was a sassy 70-year old woman from England traveling South America alone. Hell yeah, Beryl.
Beryl was so sassy she told off people that were trying to rob her and they got freaked out and drove away. Beryl refused to take the trufi home. She thought it was dumb. She could walk, so she would walk. She figured if she stopped walking, she might not be able to start again. And so Beryl and I would walk over an hour home each day, traversing the quaint city of Cochabamba. I relished the opportunity to converse with a feisty and eminently entertaining 70-year-old British woman. Had I not walked home, I would never have become such good friends with Beryl or been able to revel in her wonderous tales.
A blurry but beautiful sunset during my 8.5-mile run home from work in Lewiston, ID.
Human-powered commuting has brought so much into my life. Early on it was a way to be independent and have fun. Those sentiments are still there, but have been joined by a desire to both reduce my reliance on fossil fuels and run high mileage. For six months of 2018 I was either traveling or working in the backcountry away from an office. But for the other six months, I was able to rack up 645 miles of running to and from work, plus another 245 biking. I can’t think of a better way to have spent those early mornings and late evenings. Not every commute was butterflies and rainbows, but for the record, I did literally see both butterflies and rainbows on my jaunts to work. What could be better than that?
Once upon a time I lived in this parking lot, where a rainbow led right to my van <3