Seren and Craig, The Life

Or “Craig imitates Odysseus”

The morning of October 18, 2026, Emily and I were going to bike 30 miles around Manhattan as part of Bike MS to raise money for MS research. The entire enterprise got off to an auspicious start.

First was the substitution of Emily in for Belle. Originally, Belle and I signed up for the bike ride in 2026, as we had done it in 2025. After we signed up, however, Belle learned that her Hartman Teen Shabbaton was the same weekend. As she couldn’t be in two places at once, she picked Hartman (a very reasonable choice), and Emily stepped up in her stead.

Second was my bib packet. All riders need a bib. If you raise a certain amount of money by the deadline, the packet is mailed to you. If you don’t meet that threshold by the deadline, you have to pick up your bib in Manhattan in the days before the event (provided you’ve met the minimum). Emily cleared the minimum easily. I, on the other hand, didn’t. So on the deadline day, I chipped in to get to the minimum to save myself a trip into Manhattan. Emily’s bib came in the mail, and mine didn’t. I learned that my contribution was not allocated to me personally, so I “hadn’t hit the minimum.” I therefore had to go pick up my packet, which I wasn’t going to do. Eventually, a member of my team told me she was going to pick up her packet on the Friday before the event. She was able to pick up mine as well. Unnecessary NYC trip averted.

Three was my bike. On the day before the event, we made sure our bikes were in good working order. We filled Emily’s tires up with air; no problem. Then we tried to fill mine up, but it didn’t work. Saturday night, we visited our friend Ari to use his industrial strength bike pump, and he filled it up in no time. We were all ready.

We left the house Sunday morning at 5:45 am with the temperature hovering around 40 degrees. We pretty much wore our skiing base layers.

We found a parking spot and unloaded our bikes, quickly learning that my tire – the one we fixed the prior night – was flat. We raced around the starting point for the event and found a mechanic with a bike tube. He replaced the tube and gave me air. He warned me, however, that the tube was not exactly the right one. The tube should work he said, but he wouldn’t promise me for how long.

The event was 30 miles. And the first five miles went swimmingly. And then, I felt my tire get flat. Ironically, this was as we passed the 59th Street Bridge. I was not “feeling groovy.” I pulled over, and an event marshal filled up my tire. I was hopeful.

I continued on. And then the tire went flat again.

At that point, we were at a bathroom rest stop. So we pulled over. I added air to the tube. And before even getting on my bike, the tube popped like a balloon. I was stuck.

Luckily, someone had a tube. But I had no idea how to change a tube. Thankfully, one of the race security people had worked in a bike store and knew what to do. (This was incredible. He was literally the guy who made sure no one took too many candies from the snack table. He was not a “bike” person.) I replaced the tube, and then tried pumping up the tire to no avail. I was stuck.

I spoke with Emily and gave her three options. She could stick with me. But I had no idea what that meant. She could continue on her own. The course is marked, but it gets dicey a little north of where we were. Or we can track down a team member, and she could ride with them. Good idea, but an impossibility. We were the second-to-last members of our team. Remarkably, a nice couple overheard our discussion and offered to take Emily with them to the next rest stop, 10 miles north. With that, Emily went with Alice and Bob (who actually may not have been a couple), and I continued to struggle with my tire.

Eventually, I had to give up. Nothing worked. I found that there was a bike shop a few blocks from where I was that was open early on a Sunday morning. (It was in Spanish Harlem, and I think it caters to the countless number of Spanish-speaking deliverypeople who rely on bikes to do their work.) My plan was to walk my bike there, and then bike to Emily and continue our journey.

One of the sponsors of the event is Oz Moving. As I decided what to do, an Oz Moving driver offered to bring me to the bike shop. I took him up on the other. My bike went into a moving van, and I went into a passenger van. Lee drove me, and Kevin drove my bike to a bike shop on 2nd Avenue at 103rd Street. The proprietor gave me a brand new tube and filled it with air, and gave me a clean bill of bike health. I was all set.

Except, I was 10 miles south of Emily, which would take me about 40 minutes to bike. Lee and Kevin then drove me to Inwood, which, per Google Maps, required a detour into the Bronx. (We went up 3rd Avenue to the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx to the Major Deegan to some random bridge back into Manhattan.) We wound our way through Inwood, until we got to the limits of where they could drive. With that, I bid adieu to Lee and Kevin and biked towards Emily’s “find my phone.” Well, she wasn’t where my phone said she was. But I kept searching, and eventually found her.

We reunited, had some water and then got on our bikes for the homestretch from Inwood to 32nd Street and the West Side Highway. Huffing and puffing, we made it. She biked 30 miles. I biked 22 miles. And we both enjoyed it.

I haven’t read the Odyssey, but from what I have heard, it’s about Odysseus’s struggle to get home over a course of 10 years. Throughout this adventure, I was worried about Emily, making sure she was safe, not lost and happy. In the end, she was, and we reunited.

This story only had a happy ending because of people who helped us along the way, especially Alice and Bob and Lee and Kevin. I love New York!