Why don't you cry about it saddlebags?

Today, Sunday, I took some time to gear up (literally) for the ride.
At Alex's behest I purchased some equipment that was deemed necessary or that, at the very least, would make my life more comfortable over our 7 day expedition. I bought:
1) A CamelBack (20% off at Sports Authority)...This is one of those backpacks with a water bottle in it. Appropriately named because you appear to have a hump on your back while wearing, therefore resembling a camel. FYI
2) A pair of riding gloves...I almost bought these creepy looking mesh ones that made me look like either a bodybuilder or a pop-star from the 80's. Unfortunately, they did not come with the muscles of said body builder or the mullet of said pop-star, so I opted against them.
3) A lock...To lock my bike up when we stop. Duh.
4) 2 pairs of Bike shorts...aka Shammies ::*cue Liz making an awkward cupping motion with her hand)
5) Panniers...A fancy word for saddlebags (hence, the Ace Ventura quote as my title).

Other than that, I think I just need some tubes, which is short for inner tubes, for those of you unversed in bicycle lingo. And some tire, which is short for the thing that covers the inner tube. Those are just precautionary in case we get a flat along the way. NOTE: Bill from ADAM'S CYCLERY will be providing me with a very brief lesson in how to change a flat tire at some point this week. The guys at ADAM'S CYCLERY have been fantastic to us so far. They're located at 270 Larkfield Rd. in E. Northport, NY. Go there. Tell them you know us. (Not that it will matter, but we'll feel cool.)

(**Bike Trivia: What do you call the gizmo that changes your gears?)

Anyway, this has been senseless rambling and for that I apologize. I just wanted to post a few more times this week to lead into the ride. Before I go, if you haven't closed this already, here's just some brief background about my love of the Yankees.
My favorite player is/was Don Mattingly. I played first base all through Little League, and wore number 23 whenever I could. If I wasn't 23, I was 7 for Mickey Mantle.

Side note: I do enjoy the fact that as a child growing up and playing sports, when it came to numbers, it didn't matter that there were 20 something other baseball teams, when I asked "Who was number 9?" It was understood that I meant "Who was number 9 for the Yankees?" As a child, that's what your life was about...The other teams only mattered when the Yankees were playing against them.

Sorry, for the tangent...I think the reason I liked Mattingly so much, and the reason why he remains my favorite Yankee, is because he wasn't flashy and he wasn't cocky, although he certainly had reason to be. He wasn't your stereotypical "superstar" by any means, he did his job, and he did it well. Unfortunately for Donnie Baseball, he never won a World Series which is what many people remember most about him. I admire him in spite of that, and in fact, I might admire him more for that. It's pretty impressive to have played for the Yankees and to have not won a World Series, they have won it 26 times. Oh, one more Mattingly fact...He had an incredible mustache. He's probably Giambi's inspiration.

Well, that's all for now...My next post will include a juicy confession! oooooh...

So it goes.

*: If you want to see Liz make the awkward cupping motion come to the Riding the Rivalry After Party July 27th up in Wenham, MA. Click here for details http://www.facebook.com/n/?event.php&eid=2490356863
**: It's called a gear changer...Nothing fancy about that!

A new, but familiar journey

I'm stoked about The Ride this summer. It's going to be different from The Walk that John and I did last summer in some ways, but the same in others.

• Different: There are 5 of us. John, myself (Alex), a Liz, and two Billys
• Same: Still mostly guys (be prepared for more mentions of peeing outside - #1 & #2)
• Different: 40-ish miles a day rather than 20
• Same: Generally the same route. Some towns will be good to see again and some not as much.
• Different: no more getting picked up by people. 5 bikes makes that difficult, so we'll be rolling deep up to their front doors.
• Same: just like Blanche DuBois, we're going to be relying on the kindness of strangers. Okay, not strangers, but the reference doesn't work with "friends."
  
• Same: representing both sides of the rivalry in our group
• Different: Yankee fans are definitely in the majority. I'm leaving it up to Liz to represent for the Sox since she's much more qualified. I'm still a fan, but not enough to live up to the responsibility. So Yanks 3, Sox 1, Loser who doesn't follow baseball much 1
• Same: still trying to film for a potential project later on
• Different: biking will allow for more time and energy to do so
  

I could go on, but... I won't. I'm looking forward to getting more into the belly of the Rivalry. It'll be a very different dynamic now that there are more of us, and a true member of Red Sox Nation to give better support to the team than I ever could.

I came to the realization that no amount of reading books on the teams (which I've been doing some of) is going to make me a baseball guy, and that's fine. That doesn't diminish my curiosity regarding the Rivalry and the people on either side. People who are passionate about anything interest me, and I don't know if there's a better example of populations who are passionate about something than those on both sides of this debate.

Recommendation: check out The Rooters. It's a documentary about the Boston fans, from the original Royal Rooters to today. It's pretty impressive what they had going from the beginning. I got The New York Yankees: Team of the Century from Netflix today. I'll let you know how that goes.

Correction: One of the Billys is a Mets fan, not a Yankees fan. It's good to have an impartial guy on the crew who actually knows something about baseball. Final count: Red Sox 1, Yankees 2, Doesn't like either 1, Idiot who doesn't even know who's riding with him 1 (that one is me)

No YES, yes NESN

If there is ever a highlight reel of my life this summer might be left on the cutting room floor. Being a 25 year old unemployed social studies teacher who works at a day camp and lives in the upstairs floor of his girlfriend's parent's house is nothing to brag about.

Regardless, I am living in Red Sox nation as they say and adjusting. Here are some observations that I have noticed over the past week.

1. Fluffernutter. I have heard of it before but had no idea that it is a part of the food pyramtid for these kids. Peanut butter and fake marshmellow? marshmallow? Whatever it is, these little kids eat it up. According to wikepdia the fluffernutter might become the official sandwich of Massachusetts.

2. Drivers
When I am riding my bike they are courteous and patient. That is such a blessing. But seeing a car make a left from a parking lot is a wonder. Some lady driving a volvo wagon her husband bought her will start driving out of the lot regardless of the flow of traffic. She either A.) wants the car to get smashed so she can upgrade to the Lexus SUV or B. Knows that the other drivers will have to stop. So patience for cyclists struggling uphill, maybe its pity, but no way will they wait two minutes to turn.

3. Apparently I'm not funny

Well that's bullshit. I know I'm funny. However the people I work with dont really laugh at my stuff. It takes them awhile to get my humor. Very discouraging

4. What the hell are they saying?

Scallops, apparently pronounced Scal Lopps. I say it wrong and have been corected. Bubbler: a water fountain. Im sorry there are no bubbles coming from that thing. In dodge ball I hurt a kid's ahm, and later he was wicked thirsty.

5. Campers sing along

On the bus to a movie theater the kids asked to put the radio on. These kids are in third or fourth grade. Little guys and gals all ready to see the movie Wall E. The radio is on and I got a show.
I wondered if the parents of these kids would enjoy them singing along to I Kissed a Girl, Pussy Cat dolls or Flo Rida's Apple Bottom Jeans song. I asked a kid singing "Why is shorty getten low on the floor?" He just looked right at me then belted out "shorty got low low low.." I pray to God these kids dont grow up and have groupies.

I can't ride my bike with no handlebars...but...

(No) Spin Zone

I did a lousy job getting physically ready for The Walk, so this time I thought I should do some sort of training. Nothing serious, just enough gym time so my man boobs wouldnt shake when I drove over a speed bump.
So I joined a Spin Class at my gym with my friend from work Mooney.
I got there 15 mins before the class was supposed to start and already there were people warming up. Mooney and I got two bikes all the way in the back row and in a corner. As it got closer to start time the room quickly filled up. The crowd was mostly female, all in way better shape then me. Everyone was in spandex and tanktops while I opted for baggy Old Navy sweatpants and t-shirt from my favorite college bar.
Enter the spin instructor. A woman in her late thirties who resembled Tony Little, but with bigger legs. She introduced herself as Dawn and judging from over the top excitement she was not on her meds that night. As we warmed up to begin she signaled me out to the rest of the class that my handlebars were too high and told me to adjust. I have trouble sharpening a pencil, and this proved to be a bit of a challenge. Dawn assumed her position on a mini stage and go her I-Pod ready and I fumbled with the handle bars. "Ready?", she called down to me from her Athletic Olympus. Sure thing Dawn!!.
So we all got our feet moving for our first mountain. As I got ready for position "2" my handlebars fly off and I almost hit my chin on the bike. The women next to me looked at me, and if she could drag her bike further away she would have. I had to get off and adjust. Dawn called down some encouragement, but if this was an actual race the chase car would have picked me up and handed me a Big Wheel to finish.
After that it wasnt that bad. Dawn sang along to the tunes. A good amount of Gwen Stefani and Pink. A country song was played proclaiming how nice it was to be a country girl, I attempted to relate but losing my virginity in a Wal Mart parking lot kind of lost me. 15 minuted into the ride I burped and realized that Subway on the way to Spin Class was a bad choice. Dawn called out to me and said I looked great, I silently prayed that the disco light above her would crush her like the Wicked Witch that she was.
My view of the man with the very tight ass was alright for a little bit, then I would look around the room and wonder if anyone realized how stupid we looked. Dawn told us about hills and valleys and I didnt see them but got concerned over mountain lions and falling rocks.

When all was said and done my ass killed, I was drenched but felt pretty good. Dawn asked if I would go back next week, I said only if there was more Gwen next time.

It's like learning to ride a bike...Literally.

Listen: Sorry if I'm offending anyone by being the first to post...about 5 months before we leave. But I think letting people get to know a little bit about us will help bring in donations. We'll be humans instead of a hyperlink...

Here's the story of how I learned to ride a bike.

It all started when I was 14.
That's right...14.
Most kids are dreaming of a first car and I was just learning how to ride a bike.

I kind of missed the boat on learning to ride, because I was always about two years behind in my development according to baby books. I talked late (first word was 3 syllables though..worth the wait I think), I walked late, and yes I even potty trained late. So it was only natural that I not learn how to ride a bike so late in life also. Basically what happened was a few of my friends liked to ride bikes to each others houses and I became an impediment seeing as how I didn't know how. Their only options were to teach me how to ride OR no longer be my friend. They originally opted not to be my friends, but my loving mother bribed them with candy (my mom was notorious for this during middle school [not really, she only did it one other time {that story will have to wait}]). I endured the sterotypical bike riding regiment. My friend would hold the back of the bike as we slowly rolled down the street. I sooned gained some confidence as he promised he wouldn't let go. And then one time, you guessed it, he let go. When I turned around to make sure he was still holding on, and found him half a mile back, I panicked; hit the curb; and went head over heels onto some strangers lawn. I suffered some bumps and bruises with the biggest injury dealt to my ego. However, I got back on the bike and kept on trying, unlike Michelle Tanner who held a grudge against Uncle Joey for days after she fell into a bush.

Regardless, I eventually learned how to ride, my friend got his candy and my first bike looked like a tangerine on crack. It was so embarassing to ride that it eventually rusted up, after maybe 2 rides. Fortunately for me, remembering how to ride a bike is easy. So when I got my second bike 11 years later for Christmas, I still had it.

And there you have it, with MAYBE a total of 15 bike rides in the course of my lie under my belt I'm obviously qualified for this expedition to Beantown.

John, Alex, Liz...I hope at least one of you is an expert in first aid!

So it goes.

Stay tuned

We'll be repeating this journey, albeit differently, again next summer. Stay tuned for updates.