Derek Brouwer shrugs off the hecklers, unicycles to work

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Derek Brouwer commutes to work on his unicycle Wednesday as part of Bike to Work Day. He usually uses his unicycle to get to work about once a week, and uses his regular bicycle as well.

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BOULDER, Colo. -

Derek Brouwer has heard every heckle in the book.

"Where are your juggling balls?" is common and so is "Look, a clown." But most often he gets: "You lost your other wheel." He usually quips back: "I don't need my training wheel any more!" but the mood on the road was lighter on Wednesday.

"There's a different crowd out there today," says Brouwer, who rides his unicycle 12 miles from Erie to Boulder about once a week. "Actually friendly."

We're at the Bike to Work Day breakfast station at Whole Foods on Pearl Street, and Brouwer needs to recharge before heading out again. A 43-year-old systems architect for a local software company, he's been unicycling for the last hour and a half and is sweating profusely.

"I need a massage," he declares and gets into line for the free massage booth.

Back on the road, Brouwer and I ride back streets to his office. I follow him on my cruiser and watch as he steers with a dainty hip twist (No handlebars, remember?) and flaps his arms for balance.

Unicycles are a litmus test of a person's temperament, and Derek elicits unequivocal smiles or sneers. Most of the pedestrians, drivers and other bikers we pass, though, can't help but smile. Some even burst out laughing. There's just something about a unicycle that's happy and childlike.

Brouwer has been unicycling for three years and got into it because of his 17-year-old son, who is "stunningly good," according to his proud papa.

Mary Rios, the founder of the 62-member Boulder Unicyclist Club (www.boulderuni.com), speaks fondly of Brouwer, who is a member.

"He gets out there quite a bit," she says in a phone interview about seeing him at Hall Ranch in Lyons or Walker Ranch west of Boulder.

During the school year, Rios hosts a unicycle clinic every Friday afternoon at the South Boulder Recreation Center.

"I love the sport, because I suck at it," Brouwer laughs. "I get to constantly enjoy getting better at it." It's also a great workout, he says, and claims to have "abs that can bounce bullets," if you peel away the fat.

His wife doesn't like to hear it, but women come up to him all the time wanting to talk about the unicycle or try it out. "I'm not into that or anything," he says "But it's pretty cool."

The wheel on his commuter unicycle -- a chrome Coker -- is a massive 36 inches in diameter. He owns seven unicycles. On this one, his head is a good eight feet off the ground, but the added wheel diameter allows him to cover more ground per pedal stroke.

"When I ride on trails, I use a 24-inch," he says, referring to the sport of mountain unicycling, a.k.a. Muni. This subculture of a subculture hosts an annual gathering, the Moab Muni Fest that attracts about 200 riders each March.

His unicycle has typical commuter gadgets, like a light on the seat post and cycle computer, plus untypical gadgets, like an inflatable Kris Holm seat with a handle. For safety gear, he wears a helmet and unicycling Kris Holm gloves with wrist support. The pedals are wide, flat downhill mountain bike pedals with tiny cleats for grip.

Brouwer also wears a pair of Oakley sunglasses with a Bluetooth earpiece connected to his cell phone, which is strapped to his arm.

Brouwer can only free-mount (mounting the unicycle without aid) going downhill or when he's not tired, so route finding is critical. He mostly rides on the street and studiously avoids balance-busting curbs.

At one point, I give the unicycle a try to gauge the difficulty (it's difficult) and succeed in a couple of pedal strokes. Brouwer clenches both fists in gleeful agony when I jump off.

"So close!" he exclaims, hoping for another convert.