Hills, hills, and more hills

I feel pretty comfortable blaming this whole biking obsession on my friend Rob, who is the one who first convinced me to rent a bike, the one who helped me buy my hybrid, the one who pushed me to ride 70+ miles on said hybrid (sans cycling shoes, no less), and the one who plans somewhat epic two-wheel adventures to upstate New York.

On Saturday, I woke up having slept too little and drunk one too many cocktails – not an ideal biking state. Still, Rob and I had planned on adventuring out of the city.  So after a little restorative 9th Street Espresso and Amy’s Bread, we set off toward the George Washington Bridge. We made it over the bridge in good time, had a gorgeous ride along the Hudson (swooping hills and thick forest with the river on our right), and then–after an annoying detour through residential New Jersey–ended up at Nyack’s Runcible Spoon for a much-needed pit stop. We loaded up on Clif Bars and kept on through Haverstraw, where I had the overwhelming urge to jump in the water off the beach, and on toward Harriman State Park.

Rob is a bit of a hill freak – I am not – and looks for any reason to take us to steep inclines. He had warned me that it was going to be a hill-full day (exact words: “Hills! Yum”) but when we started up Gate Hill Road to get to the state park, my legs were shaking and it took everything I had not to get off my bike and walk.

Harriman State Park made it worth it: Gorgeous open lakes and thick woods, babbling brooks and water falls – the whole deal. After a gleeful ride on Seven Lakes Road, it was out of the park and on to Bear Mountain, our last stop of the day. After a few triumphant pictures at the top, we zoomed down the glorious winding road to the bottom, continued over the bridge to Garrison, and caught a 7pm train to the city. One of my favorite parts of long rides like these is collapsing on the Metro-North train — sweaty, stinky, and exhausted. Looking out the window at the rolling Hudson highlands and quaint yacht clubs strung along the riverbank, you can hardly believe you’re this close to Manhattan.

More pics (and a video of me looking absolutely beat) here.  See our route through Harriman to Garrison here.

Inaugural ride

I think I peaked athletically at the age of 10, when, every day, I went to swim practice for two hours, then played tennis for another three.  Or maybe it was when I was 17: That year, I spent 30 days hiking in Wyoming with a 60-lb. pack and ran back-to-back cross-country and track seasons at Yale.  Regardless of exactly when it was, it’s fair to say it was many, many years ago.  At least a decade, maybe longer.

I’ve remained fairly active:  I run or swim or do yoga a few days a week and if I’m officially the laziest one in my family, I’m at least above average in terms of getting out there and exercising.

Still, all this talk of biking 50 miles a day has gotten me really nervous.  Especially as my partner in crime sends me emails saying, “Rode an easy 25 this morning; thinking of going for a run before dinner.”  Or, “Rob and I are doing 70 or 80 tomorrow.”  As if it’s no big deal.

So today, I finally took my bike out for my inaugural training ride.  I planned to do 20–figured I could handle that much, and was even so blase as to leave the house without any water (in my defense, I don’t have bottle racks on my bike just yet), spare tubes, or a pump…  on an empty stomach.  I did plan out my route using MapMyRide.com.  I also let Mollie know when I was leaving, in case I ran into any trouble out in the country (It gets real quiet, real fast around these parts).  And I brought my iPhone, planning to give the new EveryTrail app I downloaded a test run.

And, I got lost anyway.  Forty miles, several high-speed dragon fly collisons, and two and half hours later, I arrived home, legs shaking, sweat dripping, mouth salivating.

It was still exhilarating (even if it was completely exhausting) and a few hours later, I’m already on the internet, hunting down a comfier pair of bike shorts.