Third ride in Manhattan to Central Park. Still figuring it out. Still talking to police officers for directions. But here we are.
One of the guys doing the 569-mile ECSI tour with me told me the best way to cut across town was to go uptown to 73rd Street. So that’s what I did — started from home at Sutton Place, headed up First Avenue, turned left at 73rd, and made my way into Central Park around 72nd Street. A real plan. An actual plan.
But on the way uptown, I encountered a ton of obstacles – street cleaners, motorized scooters, cars not paying attention, to name a few.
Taking on Cat Hill and Harlem Hill
Cat Hill. Harlem Hill. Done. I climbed at about 6.8 mph, which is not fast, but it is moving, and I’ll take it. Coming down at 20 mph with people everywhere? My heart was in my throat. I kept thinking someone was going to cut across without looking. But here’s the thing that surprised me — there was a bike race happening at the same time, with officials stationed on the course. I don’t totally know why, but having them there made me feel safer. Like, if something went sideways, someone official was watching. I’ll take that comfort wherever I can find it.
The Wrong Exit to the West Side
Then came the exit. Or, more accurately, the wrong exit.
I thought I was heading back east toward Sutton Place. I was not. Somehow I popped out at 71st Street — on the west side. Before I could process what had happened, I was standing on Broadway, watching a police officer write tickets.
“OMG, is this the west side?”
It was. He told me to go back through the park. I did. And somehow — I genuinely cannot explain this — I ended up at Central Park South. I got off the bike, walked it to 62nd Street, and crossed town from there. Honestly, 62nd isn’t bad for cyclists. Manageable traffic. The chaos doesn’t really hit until you get close to Second Avenue, and all that bridge traffic merges in. There were so many cars. I decided to walk the bike through it. Not graceful in cycling cleats, but safer, and I was okay with that trade-off.
I made it home. Intact. Slightly turned around, but home.
Riding Through the Doubt
Here’s where my brain went afterward, though — if I can get lost in my own city, what happens upstate with the ECSI group? What was I thinking, signing up for 569 miles? Am I strong enough for this?
I sat with those thoughts for a while. I’m not going to pretend they didn’t show up.
But then I thought about Cat Hill and Harlem Hill — the ones I’d been nervous about — and how they weren’t as brutal as I expected. Old Westbury might actually be steeper. I climbed them. I came down fast. I navigated (mostly) and found my way home.
The answer isn’t to drop out. The answer is to keep riding the park until I stop getting lost.
Ride four is coming.
P.S. This was written before I decided to defer the ride to next year, not because I didn’t think I could do it, but because I need a total knee replacement.
