i guess i haven't really done too many long rides.
at least where the miles have been tracked.
i had a cyclocomputer once. it stayed on the bike for maybe a week?
with all the numbers constantly changing within eyeshot, it was distracting!
but frank had his edge 705 mounted for this ride, so i didn't even have to think about it.
i didn't turn on strava, or charity miles, or any other app on my phone that i hardly use.
we just rode and rode, and ate, and rode until the sun went down.
growing up a bike rider, sure, i'd spent many days, all day, on the bike.
but i also grew up on bmx and mountain bikes, in new york city.
so our riding mostly involved cruising from spot to spot,
looking for fun street transitions and ledges around the city,
or steep dirt and rock features within city parks when you could still get away with it,
sessioning the fun spots until we got bored, and then continue cruising,
all day long, sometimes all night long, until we were tired and hungry,
or it was morning and we should get breakfast.
today's ride wasn't quite like that.
this was a hard man winter ride.
temperature was in the 20s, there was wind, and daylight was short.
we were layered up, heavy gloves on, and wanted time on the saddle and not on the trainer.
i think this is what some people call "base miles."
at least i'd made sure that the route would be interesting.
i was looking for the old croton aqueduct trail.
an unpaved trail, that offered varied terrain from dirt to gravel to grass,
with rocks, roots, and some snow and ice and frozen mud mixed in; the seasonal special.
the trail winded some 15 miles through seemingly historic, if not landmark, westchester land.
i'd been told that the trail was disjointed, connecting here and there over streets with curbs.
but, coming from my background, i decided it would be a fun bunnyhop feature!
(i'd permaloaned my road bike out a couple years ago, having only had it a year.
i liked fatter tires, riser bars, and disc brakes. i guess i have a type.)
with frank also on a cyclocross bike, we were rolling on wheels
that basically guaranteed a worry-free adventure.
so we started out over to elmsford. normal street riding, gradual uphill.
a few highway on-ramps and off-ramps, but mostly usual.
we were to hop onto the south county trailway to find yonkers.
this was a flat, well-paved, fairly boring stretch into a decent headwind.
triathletes like frank have no problem with this kind of work.
i would have preferred my track bike. but pacing this trail wasn't my goal.
my 35c tires were hungry for some crunchy brown earth.
we warmed up slowly, me realizing my gloves (meant for ice-climbing)
were not so suitable, while frank enjoyed the warmth of his lobster mitts.
my torso and legs were doing just fine in my softshell and winter tights.
anyways. noted.
once we got near yonkers,
i remembered that between the hudson and bronx rivers,
lay a good number of broad and stiff rolling hills.
we carved down a fast swooping descent, past a cop car,
several cars worth of oncoming traffic, and a blocked lane,
before rolling right up to a bay area style ascent; short and steep.
frank spun up, but 44:32 on my setup didn't allow me to sit.
that's okay. i was fresh, and our next heavy climbs were at least 20 miles out.
we were getting close to the dirt, but not all the neighboring streets connected to it,
so it took a wrong turn or two, and a cold dead end,
before we decided to just dismount and scramble down the rock wall to the trail.
the rocks were like loose, wet bowling balls, and we hoped for no sprains.
we set our bikes down safely on the crispy trailway and,
although our toes were beginning to chill,
we knew we had good miles ahead of us.
the OCA had some tracks frozen in the dirt, probably from days earlier.
i could tell someone had ran larsen mimo cx's. probably perfect for when it was wetter.
i was happy with my razes, cushy and exceeding expectations for grip in this weather.
we were rolling at a decent clip, though it probably felt quicker than it was.
the trail sloped slightly here and there, held off camber in some places,
and pulled us through a variety of scenery and dilapidated architecture.
huffing quickly-dissipating steam through our balaclavas, we did not stop.
off to our left was a high, steep view of the dark blue hudson river.
across the water was i think the palisades of new jersey.
there was one face of the cliff, unlike the others, much of its rock surface fallen off.
i wondered if walking the bank, if not riding it, was feasible.
being by the water is something i've always taken for granted.
the rivers of new york city were always near, above, or under us.
in oakland, we had the extensive bay trail and adjoining parks and marinas.
in white plains, the bronx river is tiny and quaint;
it was exciting to finally make my way over to the hudson by bike.
the trail stayed fun, and the curb interruptions were hoppable.
nearby traffic was sparse and slow-moving, and connecting the trail wasn't too hard.
there were a handful of joggers and dog-walkers, but otherwise
we had the trail to ourselves, to thread through the trees and small grassy fields,
crunch over occasional snow and break through occasional ice to free some mud.
this was a real winter ride. we soon craved lunch.
tarrytown was quiet. everywhere was quiet. but tarrytown was especially so.
only two restaurants were open. it was MLK day after all.
luckily one of the two was vegetarian friendly, and today was their meatless monday.
without locks, i arranged for us to have a table by the window,
and we warmed up with vegan shepherd's pies and some sweet potato fries.
the waitresses were curious where we'd come from, and where we were headed.
we could have arrived in a spaceship, from the looks they were giving us.
with maybe another 20 miles left before sundown, we got back on quickly,
and headed north to search for more OCA, knowing we had to head east soon.
we completely missed the OCA, instead finding ourselves on a long asphalt descent.
this would explain why our next turn back towards the county trail, and homeward,
placed us at the bottom of long hill road through briarcliff manor.
having taken a cab through briarcliff manor before, i knew we were in for it.
not that the name of the road gave us any indication.
and even luckier for us, the steepest grade was the first one.
frank got into his spin, while i started mashing. for as long as i could.
it would turn out that i wasn't even in my smallest gear. i just thought i was.
after what might have been equivalent to the 14th story of the climb,
in less than half a mile of distance, with no end in sight
and probably several more climbs later on, i gave in to my gearing.
my single front chainring was really telling me it told me so.
i stepped off and walked the last several yards to save some energy.
frank caught up to me just before the crest,
and told me how painful it was to watch.
i remounted and we continued uphill.
none of the following hills were even close to that first grade,
but the longer, more gradual ones elicited a few groans and complaints. from me.
frank was a seasoned climber, having attempted both the deathride and the 6 gaps.
i wasn't a sucker enough to ride those with him. and my bike clearly wasn't equipped.
i still managed to keep up a good pace, and we made it through the climbs
to enjoy some of the long, curvy descents that rolled us swiftly
down to the trailway back to elmsford.
the rest of the ride was straightforward, darkening, and getting perceptibly colder.
good thing we decided to bring our lights. there were more cars on the road now.
laughing about how silly it was to be out in such weather,
i looked back at the cars behind us at a red light.
a women in a passenger seat shook her head, wide-eyed at us;
i was tapping my fingers together to keep sensation, and i smiled at her.
we hugged the curb, to pass all the traffic the rest of the way back,
reminisced through the parking lot where we did barrier practice the year before:
the single preparation for our first cyclocross race, with no prior training.
the last hills up to my apartment were babies compared to our big new friends.
we'd done the ~45 miles we loosely planned on riding.
a year and a half back in new york, after four years in california,
my skin now felt like a native east coaster's ought to.
we changed into warm clothing, headed back out to get dinner,
and considered next monday's weather.
looks like snow. i think we're still riding.
that's okay. i was fresh, and our next heavy climbs were at least 20 miles out.
we were getting close to the dirt, but not all the neighboring streets connected to it,
so it took a wrong turn or two, and a cold dead end,
before we decided to just dismount and scramble down the rock wall to the trail.
the rocks were like loose, wet bowling balls, and we hoped for no sprains.
we set our bikes down safely on the crispy trailway and,
although our toes were beginning to chill,
we knew we had good miles ahead of us.
the OCA had some tracks frozen in the dirt, probably from days earlier.
i could tell someone had ran larsen mimo cx's. probably perfect for when it was wetter.
i was happy with my razes, cushy and exceeding expectations for grip in this weather.
we were rolling at a decent clip, though it probably felt quicker than it was.
the trail sloped slightly here and there, held off camber in some places,
and pulled us through a variety of scenery and dilapidated architecture.
huffing quickly-dissipating steam through our balaclavas, we did not stop.
off to our left was a high, steep view of the dark blue hudson river.
across the water was i think the palisades of new jersey.
there was one face of the cliff, unlike the others, much of its rock surface fallen off.
i wondered if walking the bank, if not riding it, was feasible.
being by the water is something i've always taken for granted.
the rivers of new york city were always near, above, or under us.
in oakland, we had the extensive bay trail and adjoining parks and marinas.
in white plains, the bronx river is tiny and quaint;
it was exciting to finally make my way over to the hudson by bike.
the trail stayed fun, and the curb interruptions were hoppable.
nearby traffic was sparse and slow-moving, and connecting the trail wasn't too hard.
there were a handful of joggers and dog-walkers, but otherwise
we had the trail to ourselves, to thread through the trees and small grassy fields,
crunch over occasional snow and break through occasional ice to free some mud.
this was a real winter ride. we soon craved lunch.
tarrytown was quiet. everywhere was quiet. but tarrytown was especially so.
only two restaurants were open. it was MLK day after all.
luckily one of the two was vegetarian friendly, and today was their meatless monday.
without locks, i arranged for us to have a table by the window,
and we warmed up with vegan shepherd's pies and some sweet potato fries.
the waitresses were curious where we'd come from, and where we were headed.
we could have arrived in a spaceship, from the looks they were giving us.
with maybe another 20 miles left before sundown, we got back on quickly,
and headed north to search for more OCA, knowing we had to head east soon.
we completely missed the OCA, instead finding ourselves on a long asphalt descent.
this would explain why our next turn back towards the county trail, and homeward,
placed us at the bottom of long hill road through briarcliff manor.
having taken a cab through briarcliff manor before, i knew we were in for it.
not that the name of the road gave us any indication.
and even luckier for us, the steepest grade was the first one.
frank got into his spin, while i started mashing. for as long as i could.
it would turn out that i wasn't even in my smallest gear. i just thought i was.
after what might have been equivalent to the 14th story of the climb,
in less than half a mile of distance, with no end in sight
and probably several more climbs later on, i gave in to my gearing.
my single front chainring was really telling me it told me so.
i stepped off and walked the last several yards to save some energy.
frank caught up to me just before the crest,
and told me how painful it was to watch.
i remounted and we continued uphill.
none of the following hills were even close to that first grade,
but the longer, more gradual ones elicited a few groans and complaints. from me.
frank was a seasoned climber, having attempted both the deathride and the 6 gaps.
i wasn't a sucker enough to ride those with him. and my bike clearly wasn't equipped.
i still managed to keep up a good pace, and we made it through the climbs
to enjoy some of the long, curvy descents that rolled us swiftly
down to the trailway back to elmsford.
the rest of the ride was straightforward, darkening, and getting perceptibly colder.
good thing we decided to bring our lights. there were more cars on the road now.
laughing about how silly it was to be out in such weather,
i looked back at the cars behind us at a red light.
a women in a passenger seat shook her head, wide-eyed at us;
i was tapping my fingers together to keep sensation, and i smiled at her.
we hugged the curb, to pass all the traffic the rest of the way back,
reminisced through the parking lot where we did barrier practice the year before:
the single preparation for our first cyclocross race, with no prior training.
the last hills up to my apartment were babies compared to our big new friends.
we'd done the ~45 miles we loosely planned on riding.
a year and a half back in new york, after four years in california,
my skin now felt like a native east coaster's ought to.
we changed into warm clothing, headed back out to get dinner,
and considered next monday's weather.
looks like snow. i think we're still riding.
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