I don’t recall exactly how the Tour popped in my head as a must for 2013, but I’m glad it did. It was fun, exhilarating, and exhausting.
Every time I travel to a major city I wonder how people can be so bold as to ride a bike amidst cab drivers, buses, tourists, pedestrians, and other bikes. I’ve always marveled at their ability and audacity weaving their way through the streets, and I’d think I’ll never do that. That’s stupid. Irresponsible even. But…I loved it.
I had posted the Tour on facebook in early January as I contemplated my Bucket List 2013. I wanted to do something outside my comfort zone. A few friends showed interest and two committed right away – Will and Sheryl. It didn’t take much to convince Mike who loves biking and loves New York City. Once the registration date arrived, I signed us up. I was at work surrounded by distractions and I had a 15 minute limit to enter all of our information – birthdate, rider number, etc. Time was ticking, and I saw that I had to come up with a name. I thought about something the four of us have in common. We became Team Coffee IPA.
Once again, on the eve of a major athletic endeavor I took stock of my training and fitness and felt unprepared. I knew I could do it but that it would probably take some mental muscle to get me through. Sometimes I wonder if it’s the mental push that gives me a fix and that’s why I don’t worry about preparing, and other times I think I am just too undisciplined and busy to train properly. Someday I’d like to find out how it feels to say “I couldn’t have done any more to prepare.” Somehow I don’t see myself drastically changing my ways for relays or bike tours, but perhaps for something major like the NYC Marathon. Mike likes to get lots of activity in right before an event – he ran tons before Ragnar, and biked to work before the Tour. I believe in tapering. I assume a level of fitness, expect it to hurt a little, count on determination, and then think…bring it on!
We got to the city around 3:30. The Expo began was open until 7:00. I called Will to check in and see his whereabouts. He was in the city on his way so we cracked open some cold beers (IPA!) and waited for his arrival. He joined us for another beer and we all cabbed to the Expo where Sheryl was on a mission to find sunglasses and a jacket. It was chilly, cooler than upstate which was surprising. The Expo was crowded but well organized. We got our numbers and went to find a bar to catch the Kentucky Derby. We ended up on Front Street in the South Seaport area and wondered why there were so many vacant buildings and lots of construction. The streets were mostly quiet. Weird. We found a bar with cheap beer and caught the Kentucky Derby just in time for the big race. Very fun. As we walked a bit to find dinner we heard that the vacant streets were due to Hurricane Sandy. Whoa. I really had no idea that part of the city was still suffering. Unbelievable.
A cab got us to Little Italy and we ate cheap Italian food that did the trick. It was getting late so we went back to the hotel and chilled. In keeping with tradition for all the events I’ve done with Sheryl, she got out her angel cards and we each picked one. Mike picked TRUST, Will chose FRIENDSHIP, and I picked POWER. I thought those were all great selections. Sheryl is the best person to have around whenever you need inspiration or just plain fun.
I woke up early after a restful (but not deep) sleep and put on my riding gear. Short sleeves, light jacket, and grabbed a pair of riding shorts (or so I thought…). Sheryl got me a “man pouch” that buckled to my waist. The Tour restricted back packs in the Boston aftermath so I put my iphone and ID in the leather pouch. I needed to bring my camera (iphone). My friends are always very patient with me during a run or ride when I stop and click to capture something. And since this was a ride and not a race I wanted to take full advantage. We had to leave before 7:00 am when continental breakfast was served, so Sheryl tried her best to make coffee from the packets in the hotel suite. She and I managed to have a few sips but everyone else passed. No coffee in Team Coffee IPA.
We were out the door! We had to ride four miles to get to the start at Battery Park. I was a little uneasy about riding with cars but the streets were mostly empty. And it was fantastic. We rode through Time Square with hardly anyone around. At one point a cab pulled away from the curb in front of Will but he eased his way around it. He possesses an enviable level of comfort gliding along on his bike. He weaves his way through without hesitation. And with good reason - he said he used to be a bike messenger in DC.
We stopped at a corner market for bananas and bagels and ate a bit at the start where thousands gathered with their bikes ready to ride. With one foot clipped in, we scooted along for a while. My leg muscle started to ache a little from the awkward positioning. Hmmm. This was not exceptionally fun. But we finally made our way to the official start and off we went. Slowly. I was relieved that there were not a lot of small kids zig-zagging along which can be stressful, nor were there dynamos breathing down our backs. It was a respectful group. We made our way north up the Avenue of Americas to Central Park, through Harlem (where there were drums and singing along the street, very cool) on Seventh and then a quick trip in and out of the Bronx. This was a little disappointing because my father had given me a few landmarks to look for. He was born in the Bronx and it was kind of neat thinking about unknown extended family nearby. While he hasn’t maintained relations, my father has done enough research to know about some of his cousins, the McGinns, who are FDNY. Anyway, we blinked and we were out of the Bronx and back in Manhattan. I loved riding along FDR Drive. I have to admit, however, that at this point my rear was feeling a bit sore. More like the pelvic bone area. OK, fine, the crotch area. The roads were not smooth, but they were scenic, and I was taking it all in. The Queensboro Bridge into Queens was my favorite part of the ride. I appreciated the cheering of NYers too. “Hah, you think you’re outta breath NOW? You gotta ways to go!” Great bridge, and we took a moment at the top to take some pictures and drink some water. In Queens we stopped in Astoria Park at a major rest area that was jam packed with bikes. There were no lines for freebies—yogurt, bananas, pretzels, granola— and a manageable line for port-a-potties, and I was again amazed at the size and ease of the event. We were half way done.
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| Will and Sheryl on Queensboro Bridge |
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| Snacking at rest area |
We moved on through Queens. I thought with 32,000 bikes on the road we’d lose one another but not so. We stayed together throughout the ride mostly in pairs, changing up our riding partners and keeping an eye on where the others were. I was surprised, too, that we kept seeing the same folks along the way.
I tried to keep my painful crotch suffering to myself but I did cry out once in a while when I hit a good bump. GAH. Awful. The roads were very bumpy. I felt bruised and unsure whether it was best to stand up over bumps to avoid them or to just stay seated so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of sitting down again. Mike mentioned that he heard a noise with my bike, possibly the back brake. I squeezed it, the bike slowed down, I thought it must work fine, and moved on. We continued through Queens, crossed the Pulaski Bridge into Brooklyn where the road winds along the waterfront, and then onto the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. We seemed to be in Queens for a while. I was getting sweaty and thought about taking off my jacket. As we approached the Verrazano Narrows Bridge (which took a long time, miles and miles of signage leading to the bridge) there was a strong head wind and I was glad I left the jacket on. I felt fatigued but not out of gas. Mike was going full speed ahead but often looked over his shoulder to spot me, Sheryl was a little ahead, and I wasn’t sure where Will was. I thought he might have finished and was taking a nap at the finish line. Mike tried to cheer me on but I growled at him so he left me alone.
Finally, I saw the BRIDGE, the huge, magnificent Verrazano Narrows Bridge. I was elated because it was awesome and it also meant we were on the home stretch. Going up, up, up the Bridge I was amazed at cyclists pulling children behind them or the mother who was on a tandem bike with her child on back. Good for them! And yet…I thought…why were they ahead of me?? The air got chilly over the water. Then it got downright COLD. It was strange. I could see my breath. It felt good.
At the top of the bridge I heard my name called. I turned and there was Team IPA (we dropped the coffee part). Yay, Team IPA! We took pictures and rejoiced. The scene was breathtaking. Barges, helicopters, buildings, boats, it was all good. Then we headed down, which seemed to take no time, and when Staten Island first appeared we could see the FINISH line. Mike and I tried to give each other high fives at the finish and came ridiculously close to crashing into each other and into the photographer. (I will be interested to see those race photos.) We made it.
Team IPA smartly decided not to partake in the post-ride feeding frenzy but continued on the three or so miles to the ferry. I liked that ride. I loved the neighborhood. I felt a great sense of accomplishment. The ferry ride itself was smooth, and the line getting there was not bad. In the 15 minutes or so we waited we could see the line of bikes getting longer and longer. Mike looked at me and said, “You know you’re not wearing riding shorts, those are Tri shorts, right?” Hmmmph.
Back in Manhattan. The streets were no longer our own. Ugh. Mike started toward real streets and I felt a sense of dread, and then Will noticed a bike path. We took the bike path and cruised along the water, and it was nice. And then it got a little crowded with pedestrians. And then my legs started burning. And I was beat. And hungry. And I could feel my inner bitch simmering deep down inside me. Four miles felt far. I said nothing. We were back at South Seaport (didn’t we pay the cabbie $$$ for getting us there the night before and now we’re relying on bikes to get us back after a long ride??) I got a teensy bit snappish with Mike, making sure he knew the way and then saying I was considering popping off my wheel and grabbing a cab. We moved on. We were finally off the path, back on the streets of NYC with cars, cabs, the whole bit BUT I noticed we were riding on a green bike lane. Really? In NYC? A friendly bike lane? Impressive. Soon we saw 3rd Ave, and we were at 3rd and Lex so we made it. All sweaty and tired, we walked our bikes onto the polished white marble entrance of the San Carlos Hotel. Waiting for the elevator, Mike picked up the seat of my bike and spun the back wheel. It didn’t move very freely. Resistance, capital R. So that might explain why my legs were on fire…
Back in the room…hot shower, cold beer, happy me. We tried to find a restaurant nearby to suck down a hardy lunch and ended up at the diner across the street. Afterwards, we all said farewell to Will, Sheryl and I handed the keys to Mike, and we headed home.
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