Commuting, or Cost v Time

I am three weeks into my new job, and I've ridden by bike to work three times. I didn't want to try bike commuting during my first two weeks because I wanted to show up on time and not stinking when I walked in the door, so I rode the bus instead.

Evan, my physical therapist, would be proud of me. At my last physical therapy appointment, he told me I needed to join an exercise class or club. "If you settle into a desk job and never exercise, you will have blown all of the work you have done for the past year and a half and probably re-injure yourself skiing again. Please get yourself into an organized activity that forces you to get off your butt several times a week."

He didn't say exactly that, but that was the gist. I have biked a lot in my life, but I had never ridden from my home into Belltown where my new office is located. Before I rode to work, I practiced twice on the weekend on two different routes in case there was a problem. Last Saturday and Sunday, I didn't make it into downtown because there was construction on one route and Hempfest on the other.

Why was I inspired to ride my bike to work, besides Evan's admonishment to not sit still? First, I am a fan of not driving when I don't have to. When I lived in Chicago in my twenties, I didn't own a car. I took a bus everywhere and my life was perfectly fine. While Seattle doesn't have sufficient public transportation infrastructure, I still believe in riding buses and trains. The challenge is my bus route leaves me with a twenty minute walk from the stop into my office. In the summer, the walk in spendid through Pike Street Market.

View on my way into work. This is a hazy picture, taken when Seattle was getting the smoke from the wildfires in British Columbia.

In the dark and damp months, the walk might be less pleasant, so I thought I'd try to find different ways to get to work. My office has lots of bike commuters, and there is even an indoor bike parking area next to the lunch room which is great for so many reasons. Bikes won't get stolen, vandalized or wet inside the office.

I loaded up my panniers rode to work Monday, Tuesday and Thursday of this past week. It took me about forty minutes to ride in. I have a moderate uphill climb before I get into the office, so when I arrive, I am not gently perspiring. I am sweating like a pig, my hair dripping under my helmet. Each day I rode, I hoped and prayed that I brought all of the right clothes in my bags. I didn't want to get into the office and discover I forgot a clean bra or pair of underpants.

Wednesday, I took another way into work. I drove. I typically don't like driving in rush hour, especially in the last few years as traffic has gotten worse in Seattle. I had to be back home by 6:00 p.m. for a meeting with the cross country coach at my kids' high school. I was worried the bus and biking would be too slow, so I took the car. Driving out of my neighborhood, I was stuck behind a driver going five miles an hour. Another person "forgot" to merge into the lane they needed to be in, and then blocked my lane of traffic while no one let this jerk in. In both cases, I was cussing up a storm and my heart rate was about the same as when I was biking uphills.

And then I got to the office, twenty five minutes door-to-door. The drive home was shorter. The stress of driving went away when I realized I had saved between 25 and 45 minutes from my other modes of transportation. Financially, the other ways are less expensive. It cost $14 a day to park, but the bus costs $5.50 a day, making driving only $8.50 more expensive than public transportation. Here, I saw a new equation:

Time Saving > Cost

The amount of time I saved greatly outweighed the adjusted price of $8.50 it cost to park. As I walked into the office unsweaty and unwrinkled, I realized how old I have become, in good ways and bad. When I was in my twenties, I couldn't afford a car in Chicago, so driving was out of the question. Back then, even though I didn't really know it, the old equation was

Cost > Time Saving

where how much money I spent was more important than how long something took. Here I am, a middle-aged woman whose husband makes a decent salary. I can afford to drive when I want to. I don't need to nickle and dime everything, and I can easily justify spending money to make life easier. I thought "This is why god invented money" as I handed the parking attendant my Visa. On the way home, I drove past Lower Woodland, home turf for my kids' cross country meets this fall. It took me ten minutes to get there from the office.

So therein lies my privlege. I should have felt worse about driving, but I didn't. Instead, it felt awesome. I can drive if I want to, damn it. Plus, my butt was sore from riding between 14 and 20 miles a day for the previous four days.

My consciousness came back Thursday and Friday. Evan's voice and my memories of years of riding public transportation pulled me back to the bike and bus. The siren of the car will still be there, but I am hopeful that I am strong even to resist, but sensible enough to drive when I need to.