Up and Up and Up

On Saturday, I went out for a ride all by my lonesome up here in Westchester and every time I came to the foot of a climb (which seemed to happen about every three minutes) I backed off the gas and took it easy considering I had the number 87 looming in the back of my head. Why 87? Dr. Rob and Ed Dalton had called me earlier in the week and invited me to this morning’s George Washington Bridge < Bear Mountain < George Washington Bridge 87-mile ride.

At first glance you might think, “Christ, 87 miles? Are you nuts?” Maybe, but if the boys who invited me didn’t think I could finish the ride, they wouldn’t have invited me, and I appreciate that.

Despite the invite, I went ahead and did a Tom Boonen this morning, meaning I made a mess of things. First, during a downhill on a particularly nasty section of 9W, without fair warning, I squeezed by in the six inches between Anne and the shoulder. Normally, no big deal, but we were moving along pretty fast and due to the potholes we were avoiding, she could have bumped me and vice versa, which could have been a disaster.

That was bonehead move number one. Keep in mind I didn’t do it with the intention of being a bonehead--I saw a line and I simply went for it. As I’m significantly heavier than Anne, Ed, and Dr. Rob, I get rolling down hills faster than the rest of those guys, but that’s not an excuse. I should have waited and I didn’t, so again, bonehead move number one.

Let’s move on to bonehead moves number two and three, which weren’t so much sloppy riding, just sloppy conversation.

Five miles into the ride, Dr. Rob and I were having a laugh at the expense of one of our mutual friends when I said, “F#cking union guys.” On the surface, no big deal, right? Well, it’s not exactly the thing you say when you’re in the company of either (a) people who still work in a union, or (b) people who used to work union jobs.

Bonehead comment number three came at the bottom of Bear Mountain, just as I reached the end of the descent. At the top of the mountain, I took off as I always enjoy hanging it out on long, steep downhills, laying the bike over and railing it through the turns. When Dr. Rob caught up a few seconds later, I said, “Dude, you ride downhill slower than my grandmother.” I only said it because the only time I can actually put a few seconds on those guys is when we’re going downhill and while I don’t remember what he said in response, I think I struck something of a chord because with about twenty-five miles to go, Dr. Rob was gone, and I mean GONE. That dude starts his engine on those hills and disappears. No doubt Anne and Ed could have done the same (I have this nagging suspicion they kept the pace below their comfort zone today to make sure I made it all the way back to the bridge), but Dr. Rob left and never looked back.

Now that I’ve made good on all my jackass maneuvers today, let’s talk about the actual ride.

Long. Extremely long. That’s the key take-away. 87 miles is a long, long time to spend on the bike even when averaging 15 MPH.

And there was the Bear Mountain climb. It’s roughly 4.5 miles in length yet, in my head, I had it set as a 4.5 mile Hillside Terrace-like climb. To those of you unfamiliar with Staten Island, Hillside Terrace is a 0.25 or 0.50-mile climb that feels straight up when you’re actually trying to climb it, although if you put a gun to my head (don’t take that literally, Mr. Dalton), I’d say the actual gradient is somewhere between 12 to 15 percent. That may not sound like much, but when you’re standing on your pedals with the bike in the lowest gear and you can still only crank out 4 MPH, that means you’re on a bitch of a hill.

Bear Mountain, though, I think Bicycling magazine listed the average gradient at 4.5 percent and, while it felt a bit steeper (and actually was steeper in a few sections), it’s a manageable climb granted you settle into your own rhythm and don’t push it into the red zone.

At the start, as Anne passed me, she commented, “You look comfortable.”

I glanced toward the bottom bracket. “Compact crank.”

And that’s pretty much it. The only other thing I can say this morning’s ride is that when you hit the 50 to 55-mile mark, you hit some flat sections of 9W, which is misleading because you begin thinking to yourself, “I feel good. I think I can do this.” Then the next big hill comes along and halfway up your attitude changes quite fast. Once your calves start singing in pain that voice in your head changes it tune: “Okay, I was wrong. Big time. I so can’t do this. Somebody call a taxi.” Then you look up the road and Dr. Rob’s no longer even on the horizon and Ed’s glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still there because if you’re not, everybody has to slow down their pace for your tired ass, and who wants to be that guy?

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Here are some pics from the ride:

Leaving the GWB area, we took a park road off 9W unaware that the road had been closed due to some massive landslides, which left us with two options--go back and or big. We went big and did the cyclecross thing.





And then as soon as we got over the fallen trees and trekked through the mud, it was clean-cleaning time.



After the 4.5 mile climb to the top of Bear Mountain.







Then, ten miles from the finish line, we had a flat.