During the summer I planned a 45 mile bike ride, round trip from my house to Long Island.
This first shot was somewhere in the Rockaways, which, since the hurricane this October, has seen better days. What strikes me about it is how this could be Miami or Virginia Beach yet it's right here in NYC.
While biking to Long Island, which I had only explored once when I went to Kings Park Psychiatric Center, I found a small abandoned building. Glass littered the floor and I entered with caution.
I went down and found a man scolding me; I didn't remember or care much as to what he said, I was glad he wasn't a squatter or gang member. I hopped on my bike and left for Long Island.
The winds whipped up the salty air blowing from the mighty Atlantic Ocean. After crossing the bridge, I realized how greatly different NYC and the rest of the world are. After staring out into the mighty Atlantic, I biked around, friendly folks all smiling at me. This amity is something I do not encounter on a daily basis here at home. I would love to tell you this is where the story ends, but as we know, life isn't that simple.
Back in New York City I ran over a metal umbrella part that someone had littered across the road. It punctured my tire and I ended up having to carrying the bike 8 miles from Queens to a friend's house in Brooklyn, chilling there for a while and then calling it a night, taking the subway back the rest of the way home.
The next day, as I walked across the bridges of New York City, a sense of great soreness spread through my legs and arms from how much I had strained them from all of the biking, running, and carrying I did the previous day.
To redeem this failure, I later went on a successful 50 mile bike trip to Fort Totten.
And keep posted; I plan to have many more of these long biking journeys in the future.