Big Apples.

Total Miles: 4,093
States crossed: 13
Total Days: 75
Days OFF: 16
Average miles: 70
Number of Flats: 4
Fueled by: coffee and donuts


In my attempt to keep the blog from turning into a complete novel, I decided to break up the last entry into a few afterthoughts, instead of one.

I have officially been in New York city for 10 days and counting. At least the first five days consisted of only staying indoors, wearing sweatpants and a fleece blanket around my shoulders, drinking real espresso, and watching old episodes of Sex and the City for the 98th time. So in real life time, since I am finally not on bike time anymore, real life time I have only been in New York for about four days. Fair, I think so.

Let me take you back to my last day of riding for a minute, and indulge you with the story of my triumphant and grandiose arrival in my New City.

Of the three most frequently thought about topics during this ever lasting tour, THE "arrival" was definitely at the top of the list. When things got tough, I had a reserve of positive/good/warm/delicious things to think about to force myself out of the bike mentality and into the world I was preparing to enter. I had a beautiful vision of pedaling across the bridge (maybe you're wondering which one, well lets be honest I'm still fresh off the boat and don't even know which one) the sun glinting off my shiny bike, my hair flowing behind me, and the traffic parting ways to let me through. Followed by a magnificent entrance to Battery park with the Statue of Liberty in the backgound, where a huge group of friends are waiting, champagne bottles popping, and an entourage of cyclists follow me across the ribboned finish line. Complete with leaps of joy and rolling around in the grass.

Did I get my big New York City entrance? Well, as you can guess, obviously not. That was already an extravagant fantasy, but you gotta give me something right?

The big day went a little more like this:

I pulled on my overly used spandex, rainjacket which now lacks the ability to provide a water proof shield, pulled my frazzled and frizzy hair under my helmet and pedaled away the morning into the grey sky of Pennsylvania. The rain started about an hour into the ride, and believe me I could handle the rain. I could handle the cold. But combined, around 40 degrees and pouring rain...on a bike? No thank you ma'am.

It went on like this for about the next six hours, with sporadic stops about every mile to try to warm up my quickly numbing fingers and pretend like I was in a warm room, on a bear skin rug, sitting in front of the fire. All I could think about was being done, being off the bike, and being warm and dry. I thought about hitch hiking all day, but that felt like cheating, so I pressed on.

Finally, around 2pm, it had been just about enough of the freezing cold rain that I could take, and I somehow managed to take a wrong turn. I dont know, maybe it was because the rain blinded me and the fog build up in my map bag smudged the directions. Or maybe, I had never felt more pitiful and discouraged in my life and this was just the sign I needed to know that it was okay to stop.

I found my way to a bar, in the middle of a nowhere town, in the middle of the afternoon storm, and in the middle of my mental breakdown. I walked into the bar, dripping rain puddles behind me, choking back the tears staining my face, and with any inhibitions left long ago in a Kansas Town, I avoided the stares of the bar stool occupants and made my way to the back.


At this point, only about 25 miles from where I would hop the train anyway, I was still feeling like I was cheating my own journey for not making this grand and spectacular entrance. I think the minute the raindrops came that vision should have been erased from my mind, but being so close to the finish after so many thousands of miles, I just wanted to finish the last leg.

As I sat on the porch outside the bar, huddling in my own shivers, and crying through the phone, Buddy-yes that was his name- had seen me walk into the bar, and obviously felt sorry for me. He offered to drive me to the train station, and how could I refuse at this point. He gave me his ice cold plastic cup of wine for the car ride, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts on the way there, and he even drove me to the ATM. Saved again, all the way up to the last minute.

Once inside th train station there was a woman there waiting, and when she saw me struggle my way in, with a bike full of gear, she was intrigued. When she heard the news of what I was doing, she instantly made her way to me and stuck out her hand, "I feel like I need to shake your hand! You are amazing."

In more less those words, her shock at my accomplishment made me feel a little better.

I'll stop my little sob story now, but I thought for the full affect you should know how unglamorous it all really felt.

The next part involves me hauling my bike onto the train, taking over an entire car, and staring at disbelief as the city came into my view. My spirits were repaired when I knew for sure my dear friend Molly would be meeting me on the other end of the train. When we finally pulled up to my stop, the last obstacle to face was getting my bike out of the subway station and onto the street. Easy as pie right, well that actually involved me walking around in circles, people streaming past me and staring quizzically at my bike. There was no way in this lifetime I would be able to carry my bike up any kind of stairs, let alone fit it onto a moving escalator. Luckily, as I was standing in the middle of Penn Station, and just the like movies everything was moving in super speed around me as I moved in slow motion, a man helped me find the elevator. Three girls waited with me and started chatting me up. It went something like this.

girl in really tall cute boots "where did you just ride from?"
me: "umm, Jersey, but really San Francisco. I just finished a cross country ride."
cute boots: " OH MY GOD. Congratulations! Are you serious??!"
Other two girls wearing equally cute outfits: "woooaaah."

me: "umm, yup. I just finished. Right now."
cute boots:" holy shit, thats amazing." and blah blah blah. we kept chatting, but that was enough to leave a big grin on my face for a minute. They helped me on the elevator and out into the masses.

and then.... there I was at Times Square, stepping out of the wardrobe and into Narnia.

My pilgrimage is over, and I'm off the bike and into the new world, in this big bad-ass city. I was surprised by a lovely gaggle of girlfriends at a bar that night, and I think my worries from the road immediately lifted from my shoulders and flew through the ceiling.

All that is left to do is find myself a job, and begin this life as a city girl again, no longer a biker/nomad/traveler/vagabond...I'm not sure if I remember how to do that.

Lastly, all I can say is a HUGE thank you to the countless people along the way, the emails/messages/support from wonderful friends, all the amazing kindness I found in the expansive country of ours. I could not have made it this far without any of those things, so thank you to everyone who supported me in huge and small ways. If you have any questions for me I'm still digesting this crazy adventure and would love to keep talking about it, clearly.

And I'm out, ready to take on this extremely giant city in full force!

PEACE.

ps. I'm slowly uploading photos to my flickr account, check em out if you want to SEE what it was all about.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sidracarder/