Hey, Denver, Some of Us Bike to Work Every Day. Where's Our Holiday?

Denver commuters who bike to work deserve more than just a one-day celebration.

Today, June 26, is Colorado Bike to Work Day. There will be celebrations all over metro Denver, including a bash at City Hall this morning, where cyclists can pick up free coffee and Santiago's burritos, register their bikes with the Denver Police Department for theft prevention and meet Mayor Mike Johnston.

But, hey! What about those of us who have been biking to work every day?

As long as I don't have any far-flung assignments, I bike to work as often as I can. I start in Aurora and travel eleven miles up the Cherry Creek Trail to get to the Westword office at 1278 Lincoln Street. After work, I bike the eleven miles back, sometimes in the dark.

The bike ride is never easy, and it comes with challenges every time. For one, there's the challenge of having to swap clothes when you arrive at work before people start wondering why you're so sweaty at the beginning of the day. And then there's also the worry of whether your bike will be there at the end of the day.

Soon after I started my job as a staff writer at Westword last year, I parked my beloved Specialized right outside the Westword office and secured it with a nice titanium combination lock. When I came out that night, I saw that thieves didn't bother with the lock; they just unscrewed the sides of the bike rack, slid the lock right off and took my bike.

Bike thefts have dropped by as much as 30 percent in 2024, according to city data, after reaching a high of more than 1,700 bikes stolen in Denver in 2020. But so far this year, 834 people have had their bikes stolen, and that's too many.

Councilman Chris Hinds lost the use of his legs after being hit by a car while riding his bike years ago. When I told him that my bike had been stolen, he asked if I'd registered it with Project 529, a DPD effort to log who owns which bikes in order to return them quickly when they're located. He keyed me into a kink that can make the project self-defeating.

"If you don't register it, the thieves will," Hinds says. "They'll register it so that when you go to the police, they can say, 'Look, it's mine. I registered it with the City of Denver. Prove me wrong.' That's how we get guys with 100 bikes or something registered to them."

Bike thieves are bad enough. But then there are all the traffic hazards, and speeders are the worst.

I'll be honest: I have no clue which part of Lincoln I'm supposed to use as a bike lane. The three-lane stretch does have an outer lane with big letters reading "Bus Lane" that looks like the best option absent a real bike lane, but I'm always on the lookout for a motorist who thinks it's their personal express lane.

Just about every day, I have to play chicken with speeding cars in Lincoln's confusing "Bus Lane." I can't evade them by moving into the next lane of Lincoln and encountering even more traffic, and I rarely have enough time to swerve onto the sidewalk, where pedestrians and scooters aren't expecting me. Instead, I end up slipping through the small gap between the parked cars and the car speeding past me. Buses are nicer, slowing down to let me get out of the way, but speeding cars are a real threat.

Since 2013, Denver has recorded 37 cyclists killed in traffic accidents and 264 cyclists who have been seriously injured, according to city data. In 2023, twenty bicyclists died in traffic accidents in the state, according to the Colorado Department of Transportation. That's up from fifteen deaths in 2022 but down from 22 in 2018. Nationwide, the yearly average for bike deaths is about 900 people, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.

Denver's busy streets have spotty connections to its extensive bike paths. The city boasts more than 500 miles of trails, but looking at Denver's bike map, you'll note that many residential streets don't have these trails, and some trails end in the middle of a neighborhood with no connection to another trail.

Cyclists who have to venture down the residential roads and side streets know this all too well, having to dodge cars that either pass or ride your ass. I'm lucky to work on Lincoln, one of the easiest ways to reach the Cherry Creek Trail from downtown. One block east, the slender Sherman Street has marked bike lanes, but they end abruptly.  A block to the west of Lincoln is deadly Broadway, which is constantly under construction; the crowded sidewalks and busy lanes make it a nightmare to navigate.

Finally, there's the weather. Even when the rain is light enough for me to bike to work, the underpasses of the Cherry Creek Trail will flood, forcing me to take narrower roads without extensive bike lanes — or any bike lanes at all. And while biking in snow is tough, heavy wind can make it tougher. Someone biking past me on a nasty day once reminded me that "wind is the best trainer." While it does add to the workout, I can't help wishing that this state had more trees.

Despite all the challenges — the inconsistent city grid, the skinny and under-construction streets, the confusing bike lanes and signs, the speeding and distracted drivers, the floods and the wind — biking to work is its own reward.

It wakes you up in the morning. It leaves you feeling good when you get home. As one of my fellow bike commuters at Westword reminds me, "You get your workout in" just by going to work. I get to watch the ripples of Cherry Creek on my way into the city. I see the mountains, feel the sun and breathe the crisp air.

Sadly, on official Bike to Work Day, I will not be biking to work. This is one of those days when I have to drive in order to get to an interview. So on the one day when Colorado celebrates biking to work, I'll be stuck in traffic, wishing I were on my bike.

Don't I deserve a free Santiago's burrito, too?