Colin McCrone

This summer, in 2017, I am attempting to ride my bike, solo, from Boston to San Francisco. Let me tell you all that has gone into this ride.

This spring, I left my job and my life in Boston, and I’m headed back to California. When I arrive, hopefully by bike, I’ll stay. I have every reason and no particular reason to do this, but the closest thing to a satisfying motivation that I can offer publicly is that I’d like some “me time,” and I want a long and hopefully inspirational journey. My dreams about this trip sustained me through some tough times in Boston, and now’s my chance to do it.

By some means, I want to make it to SF by the end of August, and I will do my best to do that all by bike, but I have no intention of being stupid—if I’m in danger of hurting myself or if some level of risk is clearly unnecessary, I’ll slow down and do my best with whatever situation I face. Of course it would be nice to have accomplished something so great as this, but for now, I care much more about seeing my country under my own power, staying safe, and collecting memories along the way.

The experience is more important to me than a creating a proper artifact from this trip. I plan to stop to take a picture only when the moment compels me, and I plan to only post an update when it feels right. This blog is for you, my friends and family, because I want to share some of this experience with you; it’s the next best thing to having you here with me. I will write updates here, post pictures on Instagram, and track my daily progress with Strava.

Preparing

No account of my bike ride would be complete without mentioning how much work it took to make this happen. It’s certainly more ridiculous than I knew how to appreciate going in, and I’ve come to accept that this, too, is part of the journey. Whatever it takes.

Like many cyclists, I had at least thought about making a cross country journey since I became serious about the sport, which is admittedly recently. I imagined that I would have had a year to learn, plan, and train, but life doesn’t always play out so neatly. I realized in the depths of the New England winter that this was my time. I remember telling my parents on the phone:

I’m going to quit my job in the spring and move back to San Francisco. By bike. I’ll find a new job sometime before I get there.

In January, when I decided to do this, I knew so little. I had only just made my first century ride (≥100 miles in a day) last fall, around Cape Cod Bay. It was long and painful, and I loved it. I don’t feel as well prepared for this adventure as I would like, but I have the drive to make it happen, and I hope that counts for something. Whatever it takes…

I had six weeks between my last day of work and my big departure date. I was crazy busy and there wasn’t much time, even then, for proper planning and training. In that six weeks, I traveled to San Francisco twice, Los Angeles, Chicago twice, New York, New Hampshire twice, Rhode Island twice, Toronto, Kentucky, Columbus, and Montreal. I also moved out of my apartment, made my goodbyes to a lot of great people in Boston, taught two professional workshops, gave a professional talk, went to three weddings and two bachelor parties, recorded an online class for Lynda.com (LinkedIn Learning), talked about possible new jobs, and completed a 400-mile training ride. In May I was only “at home” in Boston for 8 days, and all of that was every bit as stressful and exhilarating as it sounds. I mention all of this to give you some idea of what it takes for a 32-year-old to carve out 2 ½ months for a cross county bike ride while also changing jobs and moving across the country. Whatever it takes!

Huge thanks to my parents who helped me move out of my apartment and then drove my stuff to Ohio for safe keeping. (Good thing I’m an only child!) Big thanks to Hanna Jin and Jake McOwen for hosting me for a week in their Beacon Hill apartment after my lease ended but before my ride began. And many, many thanks for my friends on all three coasts—East, West, and North (a.k.a. Cleveland)—for your support in uncountable ways. I’ve found myself thinking more than once, that just for this crazy bike trip, “it takes a village…”

Learning

During the winter, I took an 8-week bike maintenance class at Broadway Bicycle School in Cambridge, MA., which was a useful way to build some momentum while I waited for the snow to melt. The first day was a lesson on replacing a tube. I thought it would be such a waste of time until the mechanic demonstrated how to do it all in just a couple of minutes, and it got even better from there.

My friend and colleague at Safdie Architects, Eleanor Kebabian, also helped me with a comprehensive and well-reasoned packing list. She and her husband David Brooks recently completed a year-and-a-half-long bike tour through wilder places than I was planning. Among her advice, paraphrasing: “Have fun and skip the boring parts. For example, skip Kansas.“

In May, on the advice of my friend Jon Ramos, I joined a supported ride from Boston to Montreal: 400 miles in 5 days with 30 people. Bos/tréal 2017 with the Boston Cyclists Union is a supported ride and an annual fundraiser for a non-profit that advocates for safer streets in greater Boston. It’s a great group of people, a great cause, and for me, it was a perfect way to learn how to tour on a bike. Cool logo too.

After all my preparation, Bos/tréal was the first real test of my physical ability, and I wondered, too: could I really do this? I knew I could do 50 miles without training, but what about 80? Multiple days in a row? The answer was yes, but it felt like, really, just barely. I was consistently toward the back of the pack, and the pain I felt in every cubic inch of my legs was intense. But I learned that I can be steady riding up mountain after mountain, and I learned how to ride through days of cold rain. Several fellow cyclists, especially Glen Cunningham, freely shared their knowledge and experience along the way. I gathered answers to questions like: how do you deal with laundry, what type of bags do you use, how do you find good routes, what do you eat, or even just: what am I not thinking of?

The end of the tour, in Montreal, was triply meaningful for me. I was relieved that I could probably do this ride I had already committed to, it was my first visit to Quebec (my second major was French!), and I got to visit Moshe Safdie’s seminal, now canonical, work Habitat ’67. I had the honor of working for Moshe as Director of Design Technology while I was in Boston, and the tour’s official end was right in front of it.

I have great respect for Moshe’s work and for Moshe personally. I was lucky that the end of the bike tour coincided with Habitat’s 50-year anniversary. Big thanks to Christa Mahar, Director of Communications for Safdie, for sneaking me into an exclusive press-only tour of the building.

For all the support for my Bos/tréal trip, thank you to my friends, especially my parents, Daniel Hurtubise, Diana Tamir, Jen Andrews, Charlotte Harrison, Hanna Jin, Jake McOwan.