Five-Boro Bike Tour: Worst Traffic Jam Ever

Last year I did the Five-Boro Bike Tour through New York City and at 40+ miles, it was the first really intense physical test that I put myself through. But I've come to the decision that while I enjoyed most of it, I won't be doing this same ride again again. Driving over the BQE, which is still under construction (and was the worst part of last year's event), this weekend solidified it, but I mostly just feel like I did it and now need to move on to the next big challenge. Maybe a century ride (or at least the 75 mile route of a century ride). If I was limitless in funds, perhaps I would indulge in this early spring ride, but its $75 (not counting the six dollar lottery fee), and I've got plans to do at least two triathlons this year, and perhaps some 5Ks, the aforementioned century ride, a ton of hiking and other adventures as well, so this is just cost prohibitive. And after seeing that BQE construction, I'm not convinced that even with the new "improvements" (of doing a lottery and start time waves) that I won't be stuck in a traffic jam like I was last year.

I signed up for this race, dreaming of riding over the Verrazano Bridge (which normally doesn't allow you to drive straight down the middle of it.) I'd ridden over the Manhattan and Brooklyn the summer before and found the experience quite special. So on the first day of May 2011, I drove my car to Jersey City and hoped on a PATH train with hundreds of other bikers. The only difference? I had my helmet in hand, but no bike on me, as at the time I had no real way to get my bike into the city without riding 15 miles to the PATH train... and then riding 40 miles for the race. Now, I might consider that a viable option, but then, 40 miles seemed utterly daunting.

So I picked up my rental bike (a hybrid, like I use normally) and positioned myself in the mid-back of the line. Well, as close as I could get. There were thousands of people ahead of me and thousands behind, as we all crammed into the tiny streets down by the site of the World Trade Center.

There was a nercous anticipation in the air, as we all stood around for over an hour, anxiously awaiting the race start. And then the time for the race to start passed, and we still had only moved a small amount. That's the problem with a mass start, is that with over 30,000 (yes, I do mean that number) riders (some with children in tow), if you aren't at the head of the pack, you don't get to start anywhere close to the official time.

I made friends with a nice guy who was using the race as a prep run on his new bike, before he headed out on a weeklong cross-state bike ride somewhere out in the Midwest with his friends. He was a very nice man, but of course I didn't think to exchange information with him, I was too worried about when this ride would actually begin.

When we finally got started, it was slow going, but heading through the official start banner (blocks and blocks up from where we'd been waiting) was thrilling. And riding up Sixth Avenue (aka Avenue of the Americas), only having to stop at major intersections like 14th St, 34th, 42nd and 57th was a luxury that most cab drivers would kill for. So with only those momentary delays, I easily traveled up to Central Park (losing my new friend in the masses somewhere after Bryant Park).

But then I got to Central Park, and that's where the problems started. Entering the park was easy enough, people were forced to merge down from the wide Sixth Avenue to the Bike Loop that circles the park, but that worked well until we ran into a dispatcher type person, who was sitting on a perch, and letting people go in small groups. Hadn't the slow trickled out start put us at enough of a disadvantage? Apparently not. So there was a lot more standing around and pushing my bike, before we were finally released.

I actually started picking up a bit of speed (once I figured out how to switch the gears on the rental bike to get up the hill), and heading to the top of Central Park... I dropped my camera. It had been wrapped around my wrist, but it flew off. Perhaps I shouldn't have been biking and trying to grab some snapshots at the same time. But I will say that my poor little Waterproof/Shockproof Canon got put to the test that day, as it flew about 20 feet, landed in the midst of speeding bikers, got run over at least once and still managed to take more pictures (as evidenced in the rest of this post), though it looked like hell and lost its strap. I though had to hop off my bike, wait for a break in riders, run out into the road, and hop back onto my bike before getting taken out by someone speeding by. Bicyclists don't like to slow their momentum, if they can help it.
And at that same time I realized that my back tire was more than a little flat (who knows if I was one of the cyclists that took a roll over my camera. But thankfully, at the north exit of the park in Harlem, there was a bike stand kindly pumping up tires.

And then it was off of Manhattan to the second of the five boros -- The Boogie Down Bronx. Or at least I think it was the Bronx. I might have blinked and missed it for the length of time we spent there on the course. I don't have the exact measurements, but if it was more than a mile, I'd be shocked. And even for my slow self, going through was a super brief experience. Over one tiny bridge and then back to Manhattan before I knew what was happening.

Then it was on to the FDR drive, arguably one of the cooler parts of the ride. There's just something about zipping down a highway, while cars are speeding in the other direction at you, that adds a bit of madness to the whole biking experience. Plus, there were large crowds of people in that section of Manhattan who camped out by the side of the road to cheer people on (even though it was a fun ride and not a timed race).

It was cool, and I particularly liked riding through the tunnel. As all of the riders had a great time shouting and yelling to make echoes. It made the whole thing more of a relaxed group experience. And even though I still less than halfway through the course, I started to feel a sense of confidence as I saw lots of families on bikes and cyclists of all ages just moving right along. At that point, I knew that I'd be able to finish, and stopped stressing about how fast I'd finish it. Good thing, because later on, I had no control over my finishing time at all.


Then it was up and over the Queensboro Bridge. There was a couple minute delay, as people had to be checked to make sure they had their appropriate bibs on, and weren't just bike interlopers trying to take advantage of the closed streets. I think it was a safety issue, because there were a lot of cops, but as someone who had paid a decent amount of money to take part in this, I was glad that there was some sort of notice being taken, as I did see several people just try and hop in to the ride.

But back to the Bridge. Once I got cleared to head on, I kept thinking about how hard it was to get up to the center of the Brooklyn Bridge, and that I wasn't going to get off and walk, no matter how hard it was. And I didn't. I fiddled with my gears (I still really am clueless about that aspect) and found something that I could do, slowly crawled to the top, and enjoyed the ride down and into Queens.

I don't normally spend much time along the Queens waterfront, and I didn't then either. I just kept peddling and before I knew it I was at a small bridge that I never knew existed. It is a tiny overpass that connects the boros of Brooklyn and Queens. Seeing things like this is just one of the reasons I like being out on these sorts of rides, its not the likely route that your GPS would send you on if you were trying to get from Point A to Point B by car.

At this point there was another standstill, but there was also a nice rest area. I'd been plugging along for a few hours (a lot of it standing and waiting), so took some snacks and a bathroom break before powering on. No, I didn't take the banana phone from the guy in the picture. I hadn't been planning on stopping, as I'd packed my own beverages and whatnot, but in my mind I was already going to be near the finish line, so I decided it was OK.

And I'm glad I stopped, because shortly thereafter was where the real trouble started. First we were corralled into a side street in the shade waiting for 30 minutes or so just to get on the BQE. The peppy volunteer there said that they were trying to ease congestion on the highway, and were keeping people back and letting them go in groups. Again, we'd been held and separated at multiple points before, people just ride at all different paces, bunching really is to be expected.

Still, when we were finally let on the BQE, there was congestion like nothing I'd ever seen before. I've been stuck in traffic on that same highway, but never for three hours. And never while standing in the beating sun without air conditioning or extra water or anything of that ilk. More like an hour in my car with the tunes cranked up sitting comfortably in park. If that woman who was trying to stall us from getting on the BQE had told us this was ahead of us, I'd have happily waited in the shade for another hour, because the rays were merciless. Thankfully, I found someone with some extra sunscreen (I'd applied before I left the house, but didn't pack it because I thought I'd be gone for 4 hours at the most. Not closer to 10.

Standing looking at the thousands of bikers ahead of me, I feared that there had been a major accident and someone had been severely injured. I started feeling terrible. But then I found out from a volunteer who worked the earlier part of the race, and joined in for the end, that wasn't the case at all. That there was construction (that the race organizers were aware of), that took the five lane highway down to one very narrow lane. No one ever thought that squeezing 32,000 bikers through a narrow one lane exit ramp was a bad idea? They didn't consider an alternate route (particularly since there was a surface road RIGHT UNDERNEATH US? It was insanely frustrating to discover that. And close to three hours later when it was finally my turn to take the exit ramp down to the Belt Parkway, my legs were like Jello and peddling was a challenge. Gee, standing up on tar after biking close to 30 miles, and then trying to get back on that bike after three hours of standing is hard? Yeah. It is. And painful.

Eventually my legs began to work again, though I was mentally exhausted and was running low on water. But I could see the Verrazano Bridge ahead and knew that soon I'd be peddling over it... though getting up to it was another story. I grabbed some water from the rest center, and very, very, very slowly made my way up the on ramp to the Verrazano. My friend Dom can tell you all of the technicals about this bridge and something about how it had to be adjusted for the curve of the earth because it is so long. But all I know is that when you are peddling up over it, you think you see the top of the hill, but when you get to that point, it is just an illusion and it goes further. Not that I'm complaining, but at Mile 38 (and after the unexpected traffic nightmare) this was a daunting task.

Once over the bridge, I was quickly ushered into the big party. But that was only mile 39. I was very confused. Sure I was in my fifth boro, as we had just entered Staten Island, but I had been promised 42 miles, and didn't know why we were celebrating when there was more to this ride still to come. I looked longingly at the food trucks, but knew if I scarfed down a hamburger, getting back on a bike was going to be painful. Still, I stopped and bought a tee-shirt and listened to music for a few minutes, before realizing I had to get my rental bike back to the ferry (at the REAL end of the race) within the hour. Given the delays... I wasn't going to take any chances.

So I rode through Staten Island extremely slowly (with a lot of people who look like they had partied a bit too hard at the festival) and ended up in yet another mad jam of people trying to get on the ferry back to Manhattan. At this point, I was used to being crushed and prodded and couldn't have been more grateful to see the rental bike drop off. I'd like to say that I didn't throw the bike at them and run to the ferry... but I'd be lying. I got rid of that bike as soon as I could, hopped the ferry and made my way back to Jersey City and then to my house just as quickly as I could. Opting for a PATH train that had seats instead of thousands of bicycles.

I did really enjoy getting to see the sights and pushing myself to my limit, but when I think of a ride, I think of constant movement with only momentary delays for stop lights etc. Not delays that collectively took more time than the actual ride. I do think that it would have been more fun if I were with someone else, to make the frustrating parts a little less dull. Standing on the bridge for three hours twiddling your thumbs desperately trying to make awkward conversation with the people around you who are all pissed off about the situation, isn't exactly the stress relief that I usually seek while on my bike. So now I'm off to find a ride with more cool stuff to see, and not too many hills, and definitely one that is low on the urban traffic.