Date Completed: 09/12/2009
5:30 AM this Saturday morning found me standing in Copley Square with my bike in a lovely amount of rain. My cousin Chris was there with me, my cousin Caitlin graciously brought us there. I was busy staring into space, munching on a banana and querying to myself whether or not I would die that day. See three months ago I had encountered a float in the Boston Pride parade that was labeled “Harbor to the Bay” It advertised itself as a bike ride fuindraiser, 100% of the money from which went to aids charities. I was captivated by the concept, and by the incredibly well done graphics [judge away]. Upon querying those around me, I learned that it was a ride that traveled from Boston to Provincetown. Querying the people at it’s representative booth after the parade, I learned that this was a 125 mile ride. Having never ridden more than 10 miles on a bike in my life, it seemed clear and logical to me that this would be an activity I needed to accomplish. I always make such perfect sense.
I signed up that night and began riding, and soon upgraded my ride to a Schwinn Fastback – a road bike that would be more up to bringing me the distance, and more comfortable and efficient. I rode a few times a week, and did a few 50 mile rides in the area, and learned how gears are supposed to work. Suddenly September 12th was here. I felt ready, but terrified. With the help of many of you, I had raised $1,220 for the Aids Action Committee of Massachusetts, and as I am terrible at money raising, this seemed to me quite the accomplishment.
Right. So. Saturday morning, standing in the rain, and all of a sudden, I was on my bike and riding out into the empty, early morning city streets. I put my feet into the pedals at 6:20 AM or so, yelled Yee-haw, and ignored the rain coming down upon us. It had begun. And we rode through the city. As we approached the edge of the city, God up above decided to crush every hope of a sunny day that might have existed and released a deluge from above. I mean, it fucking POURED. But like the mailmen, I would not be removed from my quest, and around 9:30 or 10, the sun peeked out and the rain stopped. It dried up and I could see the road ahead. We made the half-way point, the sagamore bridge, at 10:30, and after stopping for some mid-day noms, we carried on. Around 12:30 or one, it began misting, and that was fine. I found I got to a place where you simply acknowledge you’re going to get wet, and you carry on through it. Around 90 miles my knee began to hurt. Interestingly enough, about the same time that it began POURING again. By this I mean I was riding through consistently 4″ puddles, and at times, rode through 1 foot deep puddles.
Around 100 miles my knee decided it really needed to be noticed, and every push down would release a very tiny “fuck” from my lips. We came to the second to last pit stop, and it was suggested that I take the sag wagon back. But I needed to finish this. And suddenly there was a second wind. I fucking pushed like I never had before. And for a while I could ignore the pain. I slammed through the last pit stop. And then at 110 miles or so the knee came back. And it came back in a very angry way. But I wanted it to be done, so I just kept pushing. And holy shit, do you know how many hills are on the fucking cape? A TON.
Any way! Through sheer determination, a lot of swearing, maybe some screaming, definetly some crying and being very literally pushed by my cousin Chris [THANK YOU CHRIS.] I made it to the finish line in P-Town. And I am so goddamn proud of myself. And I am so thankful to Chris, and for all the support I received, and to jacin for showing up to root, and to Lewis and my parents for waiting for me at the finish line.
Motherfucking DONE, bitches.
This image from the end of the ride ©Lewis B. Day
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