Each summer around the Fourth of July, Melissa’s high school friends get together at a family lake house in the Finger Lakes. It’s adult camp with all the trappings and toys. Water is skied, wakes are foils, waves are runner-ed. Occasional puzzles and light reading are permitted. The kitchen staples send a clear message that this trip is first and foremost about not overthinking it: hot dogs, hamburgers, Twisted Teas, scotch, cigars. Occasionally one of the spouses smuggles in some ruffage in the form of a premade salad kit. For the most part, the week is spent on property, slipping in and out of our own daily detoxifying and retoxifying regimen.
It takes about five hours to drive the 270 miles from Philly to Lake Keuka. I decide it’d be more fun to take the long way and do it by bike. How does one decide they are ready for such a trip? My credentials include two overnight bikepacking excursions, a mid-pack finish in a 60-mile gravel race, and just one 100 mile century ride (ever). Like many others, I hadn’t squeezed into a pair of lycra before the pandemic. I only recently learned how to pronounce “chamois.” But I’ve run marathons. I’ve travelled solo on several continents. I’ve backpacked into and out of the Grand Canyon. I’ve been chased by storms down Rockies and Alps. I know how to take care of myself, and how to listen to my body when I’m pushing the limit.
For the most part, the week is spent on property, slipping in and out of our own daily detoxifying and retoxifying regimen.
I’m also pushing 40, and increasingly conscious of that sweet spot between reckless kids yelling YOLO as they “send it” to an early grave, and those excuses that so often masquerade as “adult responsibility”: self-doubt and over-preparation. It feels more like a mid-life clarity than a crisis. New experiences are new. I want to train to the point I trust myself, and then JFDI. I’m not talking about Philly to New York; I’m ready for that trip. This ride is in many ways about another ride. Before I hit that infamous mid-life milestone, I want to finish one of two single-stage, unsupported bikepacking races developed by adventurer Nelson Trees: the Atlas Mountain Race in Morocco, or the even more harrowing Silk Road Mountain Race through Kyrgyzstan. Taking the long way to vacation will help me answer a few important questions about myself before I take that plunge. Can I do successive long days in the saddle? How does my body respond? Do I enjoy bikepacking in all kinds of weather, or just the idea of it?
Melissa is on board, and so I get to planning my route.
