#36

Yeah, we walked it.

17 August 2013

Much better this time.  All centuries should be this painless.

Joe had put out the call for a 69-miler to Belmar from Etra Park.  

I rode from home, leaving enough time to get a flat or miss a turn, but not both. This is the second time this year I've had a flat on Old York Road outside of Hightstown.  I ran over something.  I saw it too late.  I called Joe to let him know where I was.  I can change a tube, but I'm not as fast about it as most of my buddies are.  The deep rim, stiff bead, and rear wheel that's a bitch to seat properly don't help either.  Nor does my allergy to rubber.

Then, while attempting to make up for lost time, I missed the turn onto Etra Road, winding up in the heart of Hightstown and having to double back.  

Lesson learned.  When traveling alone, add twice as much lead time.

Joe waited, and I arrived ten minutes late with almost two more miles than I'd planned to have.  Lucky for me, none of the people waiting was the impatient type.  Nobody complained.  Nobody even razzed me for being a double yutz, even though I clearly deserved to be razzed for being a double yutz.  Bagel Hill Barry was kind enough to let me use his floor pump to replace the CO2 with air.

The pace was chill.  The attitude was chill.  Even the air was a little chill.  When we had any wind at all, it pushed us home.  Although we sometimes got spread out, nobody jumped ahead and nobody fell off the back.

Towards the end, Jack H and I split off onto Nurko Road towards Mercer County Park, where Jack had started.  Because of the bridge construction on Old Trenton Road over the Assunpink Creek, I'd had to ride through the woods on the bike path through Mercer County Park in the morning.  I never enjoy that on the way home:  the path is bumpy and slightly uphill, both of which are just plain annoying when I'm tired.  So when we got to the construction site and saw a couple of people talking next to what used to be the bridge, I asked if we'd be able to get across.  "You can get across," the tall one said, "But you'll have to walk."

I balked at the I-beam at first.  But a bridge out is a bridge out, and, following the OLPH-Hammell Rule, if one can get across, one must get across.  So cross we did.  It was easy.  It was a double-wide I-beam or something, set there no doubt so that the construction workers don't have to drive the eight mile detour to get to the other side.

Inside the park, Jack peeled off onto the bike path to get to his car.  I let the wind, at my back for a change, push me to the western entrance and on towards home.