In this case the real test would be the distance of the stage, as I was doing an unplanned (Giro-wise) ride from Stone Harbor, almost all the way home to Royersford. To avoid having to do the full 114 miles, my intent was to pedal the 81 miles to Temple University's Septa Station and take the regional rail train to Norristown, cutting out nearly 17 miles of cycling to make my day's final total of 97.
I knew I was really in for a tough task, as by this time in the summer I would usually have done a handful of 63-mile (metric century) rides and maybe even another 100-miler, but the extreme heat this summer has had me doing consistently shorter distances of 30-50. I may have done these sessions at a higher intensity, but the necessary length of time in the saddle was definitely not part of my training.
The reason for taking on this route was our annual family "Seafood Fest" and the idea that Sue might need to give one of our other relatives a ride home. Faced with crowding three people and our stuff into our Honda Fit, I decided to bring my Cannondale down with us and make my way home on my own. The weather forecast had called for dry, sunny weather with reasonable temperatures, so I was rather excited by the prospect!
I had plotted out on my queue sheet the same route (only in reverse) that I had done back in 2016, when I rode from Philadelphia to the shore. I modified my course slightly by, instead of heading out the Stone Harbor causeway and turning north to connect Route 9 to Route 50, cutting out some mileage with a ride up through Avalon, out the causeway there and taking some back roads up to meet 50 in Tuckahoe.
It was humid in the morning, as it always is at the shore, and I was sweating profusely, so I made sure to replenish fluids early in the ride. I decided to stop at the Tuckahoe Bike Shop for water refills and to wipe off my sweat-dripped sunglass lenses. I had an amusing incident there, when an impatient customer tired of waiting for service and asked me some questions about bicycle fitting. There was no way he could know that I actually had experience with providing customers properly-sized bicycles, but maybe I just had a look about me that I may know a thing or two?
The air was getting noticeably dryer as I moved inland, and I enjoyed the advantage of starting out in the morning, when the sun was at a lower angle, and the trees lining the roads provided plenty of shade. I was well-fueled along the way, with a couple fruit/nut bars, a half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made on Sue's wonderful homemade gluten-free cheesy bread and some packages of "Sport Beans", essentially an electrolyte/vitamin-fortified candy.
Just outside of Mays Landing, I veered west around Lake Lenape on Weymouth Road, and I was soon about half-way to Philadelphia when I reached U.S. Route 322. I suppose most people wouldn't enjoy riding on this four-lane, undivided highway, but it was an early Monday afternoon, so traffic was relatively light, and the road shoulder is super-wide, so you can stay safely away from the driving lane.
I was moving along at a good clip - holding around 17 mph - and became very aware of some monotonous stretches of straight road. A particularly boring slog was the section between Weymouth and Blue Anchor, where except for a slight right-hand turn onto Mays Landing Road (Rt. 73) and a long bend at the interchange with the Atlantic City Expressway, the streets were poker-straight for 14 miles!
There were a sufficient number of Wawa stores along the way, where I could refill my water bottles (I went through about eight), but the best spot was Mr. Bill's in Winslow Township. The huge, Alfred E. Neuman-like statue is a well-known landmark for the restaurant. The young woman there filled a large cup with water and ice, and after I distributed the frozen cubes between my two bottles, I was treated to an hour or so of wonderfully cool sips!
After a left on Blue Anchor Road and an eventual right on Erial Road, I was heading toward the only real hilly area in this part of New Jersey, appropriately called Pine Hill. It actually was a pleasure to use some different leg muscles for a few minutes.
Near Clementon Park I hooked up with Atlantic Avenue, which parallels the old Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines railroad grade. A few nicely-maintained passenger stations still stand along the route, breaking up another stretch of about 10 miles of relatively straight road.
The definite lowlight of the trip was the last couple of miles into Camden on Haddon Avenue, as the surface was old concrete slab with very badly-repaired joints. Every ten feet or so was an abusive blow to my arms and shoulders, as the shock transferred directly up my handlebars. I didn't remember it being so bad during previous trips the other direction, and I glanced across the road to notice the eastbound lane did indeed appear to be in better condition. Perhaps people are being encouraged to head out of Camden, instead of into the city?
The new bicycle ramp connection to the Ben Franklin Bridge at 5th Street near the Rutgers-Camden University campus, where one was previously required to haul a bike up a flight of stairs, was wonderful. However, with over 70 miles of pedaling already in my legs, I became accutely aware of the steepness of the bridge climb, not only the incline necessary to provide 135 feet of clearance over the Delaware River, but also the additional 15 feet or so to clear the PATCO train tracks that run across the bridge, below the walkway surface.
At the base of the bridge, I used the sidewalk crossings to safely negotiate my way over to 7th Street, so I could work my way north the last couple miles of this part of my journey. At Berks Street, I again took to the sidewalk for a brief shortcut against the one-way flow of traffic to meet the station at Temple.
I really appreciated the mileage that the trainride helped me to avoid out to Norristown, but in the long run, the half-hour off of the bike was not great for my body or my morale. I was sweating heavily and wanted to replenish my fluids, but my water supply timing was poor at this point, and I had to wait until I reached a refill spot along the Schuylkill, between Norristown and Valley Forge.
Bicycle racing commentators always say, "If you are feeling thirsty, it's too late," and I was definitely making a case for this statement. I was TOAST - that last sixteen miles was brutal! I enjoyed the pleasant shade through the well-known "tree tunnel" at Valley Forge, but think I was in a daze through Phoenixville, because I don't remember the nasty climb up to Fillmore Street at all.
...and the only reason I recall heading up Main Street in Royersford - the slowest I've ever done that ascent - was because I was looking forward to a supply of Italian ice I knew was in our home freezer!
