Phillyist Bicyclist: TD Bank Bike Philly

If the starting line for the Tour de France was in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and if the horde of bicyclists waiting for the sound off included old men in recumbent bikes with motorcycle shields, families on DIY tandems, women with babies strapped front and back, five-year-olds in serious jerseys, and the fresh aura of freedom being pumped in courtesy of "Eye of the Tiger"—it would still be pretty much nothing like great fun had by the 3,000 people waiting to ride at 8 a.m. this past Sunday.

And because this wasn't the Tour de France, starting took a while. The front of line didn't so much peel off as sieve away from the group while the back of the line, where my husband and I waited, rolled forward, pushing bikes slowly forward with toes, and trying not to rear-end anybody. But eventually, movement! The streets were thick with bikes. From where we rode, wheels pedaled forward as far as the eye could see. At each intersection, there was a police officer blocking traffic so we could always go forward, without thought to cars or red lights. Volunteers from the Bicycle Coalition cheered, the choir from Old First Reformed Church of Christ sang, and we rode. As the route continued winding through Center City, I'd occasionally start to feel that old Deadly Sin, (I'm going fast! Yay me! I'm going so many miles!), but then, I'd see that 5-year-old kid in front of me, furiously pedaling between his parents and remember I was happy just to be a part of the crowd.

After causing consternation to impatient cars (some fellow waiting for the go-ahead to drive at Lombard Street actually tried to argue with a cop that he should be allowed to simply plow through the riders—never mind the certain death and dismemberment to men, women, and children) the route took us west through Fairmount Park on the River Drives. I thought I'd seen most of the city from Northeast Philly to Southwest, but apparently not because I'd never seen the open soccer fields or happy yellow buildings midway through this portion of the ride. Lisa Nutter's promise for exploration panned out as I realized I had no idea what I was riding past.

At this point, we also had a decision to make. Riders could turn back towards Center City, or continue on a 20 mile car free extension. I had bicycle butt. I was getting over the stupid swine flu. My husband, what with his unconditional support, was no help at decision making. He used to be a bad-ass bike messenger and could ride until everyone else's butts fell off from bicycle leprosy. But made-up diseases aside, it seemed worth continuing—why not? The weather was perking up, I was surrounded by thousands of my fellows, and bicycle butt only feels incurable. We rode on. We got fed and watered by volunteers. Twice! With strangely peach sports drinks, bananas, oranges, pretzels, and lemony fresh energy bars.

At the end of the ride, (I did not opt for the 35 or 50 mile extension courses), everyone sped up just a bit. Even though this was not a race, people were magnetically attracted to the finish line. We zoomed under the banner, and then pulled to a sudden stop to have our bikes checked and participate in the finish line celebration of everything awesome. T-shirts, hot dogs, pizza, contests, massages, face-painting! Everything free! The Philadelphia Zoo truck! I ran over to pet my alligator and was met with a hissing cockroach. The zoo rep asked me kindly if I'd like to pet it. As I backed away in horror, two boys pushed past to caress it.

Well, at least I'd ridden 20 beautiful car-free miles. I survived bicycle butt. I can pet an alligator another day.