The MS City to Shore Ride '07

Next time you cruise 'down the shore' from the delph, ponder for a moment how it would feel to make that trip sans ipod, seatbelt, windshield, and engine. Now you can begin to relate to my experience. My long bike ride did have one thing in common with my usual mode of transportation to my Dad's: I had cupholders (two of 'em) without which, would have been impossible.
I have been training all summer, but the day before the ride I was so anxious I could barely sit at my desk. I was mostly worried about the distance and being able to keep up with my friends. Also, could I handle sitting in the saddle for 7,8,9 hours in one day? How long was this going to take anyway? Well I'll tell you.
Bridget and I were up at 5 and sliding around WAWA on our cleates by 6am. After snagging Jory and squeezing three bikes into the brave little toaster, we were lost but going in the right direction by 6:30. Bridget made the typically wise decision to ditch 295 one exit early to avoid traffic and use some real bathrooms before heading to the starting line.
We could see the traffic pile-up was dire, so we ditched the toaster in residential Cherry Hill and pedaled the rest of the way to Woodcrest Station. And this is how, folks, we managed to log 82 miles instead of the 75 I had been expecting. The truth is, if you can do 50, you can do 75. If you can do 75, you can do 82, and so on... I expect this logic fails at some point, probably just before that mental barrier of the centennial mark, but for the most part it holds true.
This is why my ants in the pants sensation the week before the ride was totally unnecessary. The furthest I had ever ridden prior to the MS event was 52 miles, and I thought I would hit a wall right around that mark and fall right off the bike. Turns out, you get so much energy from the crowd, you feel wired PRETTY MUCH the whole ride. This fell apart for me during the last 13 miles, especially when we passed the Wawa that is within a 1/4 mile of my Dad's house, where there was a party in full swing, a keg of Dock Street Beer, a pool, and my beloved pooch. Someday when I stand at the pearly gates and am quizzed upon my strength of character, I am going to make an example of the moment I didn't make that left, and instead barreled on towards my fate of 6 more miles and two really tall, windy bridges.

Ah, Cherry Hill. A very nice place to visit at 6am wearing padded spandex.

Early on in the ride, Bridget found a pocket of space that afforded her the ability to take pictures of us instead of looking where she was going. Well done Bridget! Thats Jake in red, Jory in white and me in blue.

In single file, headed for the bridges

About half way up the second bridge, I passed a middle aged guy that was cranking along just on the verge of falling over from lack of momentum. I said as I passed him "How much does this suck?" He didn't answer me, but then at the finish line twenty minutes later, he came over and said "a lot. I didn't have the lungs to answer you on the bridge, but my answer was- a lot"

Done! Here's the team (minus Jake) loading up into the van. Next stop- keg party at Papa John's!

The keg followed us to the beach the next day, where we played some monster games of beach volleyball. I should bring 25 people every time I go to the beach, we had full teams plus rotated in subs, which is important so you have time to drink.

Pizza crust goes into the water, dogs go into the water.