Considering this. Looks fun!
http://www.mulehell.com/
BoOk CLuB ReDuX.
11 years ago
Friday, April 16, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Battenkill'd and Busted.
What an adventure. I'll try not to ramble, but the way today unfolded on the course almost requires a stream-of-consciousness approach. First, the Tour of the Battenkill gets mad props for being a crazy, fun, dangerous, and well-oiled event. Perfect for a spring classic. On to the race report:
We arrived in Cambridge on Friday and I warmed up on the course a bit. The first hard left turn was followed shortly by a covered bridge, seen here. I'm just practicing the first bit of the course, because early reports indicated that the first climb (a few miles after the bridge) would be decisive, so I wanted to know what to expect. Fortunately, the gravel that was present on the wood-floored bridge Friday was gone as we rocketed through on Saturday.
On Saturday, we arrived at the event about an hour and a half before the start. Plenty of time to kit up, warm up, and make some new friends at the start line. I have to give a few shout outs here, especially to Jeremy, Dave, and Frank who took time to chat and make the race that much more interesting. Dave actually recognized me from the blog and spoke kindly of it. Big ups to Dave!
Sporting the CLM colors, I had a nice lady flag me down prior to the race to say she loved the kits. Way to go, Mitch! I went with the striped armwarmers for visibility in the feed zone.
The start was relatively uneventful, as the first km was neutral. I ended up hovering in the top 30-40 just taking it easy to the covered bridge. That went smoothly but soon the pace picked up. However, the group was clearly saving energy for the first big climb: Juniper Swamp Rd. Rumor was that the race would split here and a select group of riders getting over this ridge first would stay together until the last climb when more splits would be made. We still had a few miles to go until that turn, so really everyone was just trying to settle in.
Now, things got interesting for me. Within seconds of hanging a right onto the first dirt section (Rich Rd.), I hit 3 or 4 potholes and lost BOTH of my nearly full bottles. Crap. I feared the sweet, lightweight carbon cages would not stand up to the bumps, but that was just insane. I was now without liquid and no way to get it until the 2nd feed zone at mile 41. By the way, did I mention this happened in the 7th mile? I'm not to too good with fancy math, but that seemed like a long time to go without fluid in a race. Egads.
Shortly, we took a hard left onto Juniper Swamp Rd., the second dirt section. You might be able to see me on the right side of the group in the orange and black.
I didn't know Jill and Sarah would be there to take this picture and cheer, but I definitely heard them shouting! True to prediction, we lost several riders on the steep dirt climb. Frank went over in the top 5, and I was in the top 20 and feeling fine. The subsequent dirt downhill was hairy due to speed but smooth.
After Juniper Swamp, I regrouped and developed a plan to conserve as much as possible (even more that I already was) and doubled up on gels to compensate. This worked well, and I was still in the pack as we approached a dreaded paved climb around mile 30. At the bottom, two guys RIGHT in front of me locked handlebars and went down in a flash. I had nowhere to go, so *DOINK* I ran right into them, performing a nice endo. I stayed up, but was now holding still and clipped out while the peloton scurried up the hill. Not good. Sprinting up the hill, I felt the heat and heard the engine of the chase car, knowing that I needed to stay up and catch the group on the hill or I was permanently off. I nearly got there by the top, but had to hop on a few wheels of other guys to finish the bridge. Fortunately, we went off-road about then and I was able to make it back up as the group slowed.
Now in the pack and down 3 or 4 matches, I was still nervous about cramps. At mile 35, we cruised through the town of Greenwich with a group now down to about 25 or 30. On a sweeping left hand turn, the guy to my left hit a pothole and launched his bottle into my path. Was this karma for my two bottles earlier? I didn't have time to think about that as, try as I might to avoid it, I hit it square with my front tire.
*aside* I would love to have seen the spectators faces at this moment. Cheering as they were, I thought I heard a deep gasp from several onlookers as I pulled what must have looked like a BMX tabletop-fakie-kickstand move before recovering and sprinting to catch the group. Wow.
Within a mile of that madness, I went to shift for an easier gear and felt a strange sensation through the right-hand shifter. Kind of a clunk / shred. My pedaling became strained and I could not shift to an easier gear. Rats, derailleur cable failure. I'd noticed some funky shifting over the past week, but it had been perfect after some adjusting earlier today. Now, I was 5 miles from the feed zone and debating dropping out. Knowing the profile (big hills to come), I was a dead duck. Combine that with the fluid deficit I'd accumulated, and I was suspecting a struggle once the fast boys turned it up.
As I approached the feed zone, I drifted to the back of our group and pulled over. Jill was bamboozled as I was seemingly looking fine, but I explained the malfunction as I pulled the shredded cable out of the housing. Race over. I watched as the group rolled up the road.
But, I cannot complain. Dodging a wreck, surviving a water bottle collision, and actually making it 41 miles with zero fluid (well, maybe I got a sip at the start) is quite a bit of racing fortune. Sure, it would be nice to finish, but some things are just not to be, at least not this year...
Stay tuned.
On Saturday, we arrived at the event about an hour and a half before the start. Plenty of time to kit up, warm up, and make some new friends at the start line. I have to give a few shout outs here, especially to Jeremy, Dave, and Frank who took time to chat and make the race that much more interesting. Dave actually recognized me from the blog and spoke kindly of it. Big ups to Dave!
The start was relatively uneventful, as the first km was neutral. I ended up hovering in the top 30-40 just taking it easy to the covered bridge. That went smoothly but soon the pace picked up. However, the group was clearly saving energy for the first big climb: Juniper Swamp Rd. Rumor was that the race would split here and a select group of riders getting over this ridge first would stay together until the last climb when more splits would be made. We still had a few miles to go until that turn, so really everyone was just trying to settle in.
Now, things got interesting for me. Within seconds of hanging a right onto the first dirt section (Rich Rd.), I hit 3 or 4 potholes and lost BOTH of my nearly full bottles. Crap. I feared the sweet, lightweight carbon cages would not stand up to the bumps, but that was just insane. I was now without liquid and no way to get it until the 2nd feed zone at mile 41. By the way, did I mention this happened in the 7th mile? I'm not to too good with fancy math, but that seemed like a long time to go without fluid in a race. Egads.
Shortly, we took a hard left onto Juniper Swamp Rd., the second dirt section. You might be able to see me on the right side of the group in the orange and black.
I didn't know Jill and Sarah would be there to take this picture and cheer, but I definitely heard them shouting! True to prediction, we lost several riders on the steep dirt climb. Frank went over in the top 5, and I was in the top 20 and feeling fine. The subsequent dirt downhill was hairy due to speed but smooth.
After Juniper Swamp, I regrouped and developed a plan to conserve as much as possible (even more that I already was) and doubled up on gels to compensate. This worked well, and I was still in the pack as we approached a dreaded paved climb around mile 30. At the bottom, two guys RIGHT in front of me locked handlebars and went down in a flash. I had nowhere to go, so *DOINK* I ran right into them, performing a nice endo. I stayed up, but was now holding still and clipped out while the peloton scurried up the hill. Not good. Sprinting up the hill, I felt the heat and heard the engine of the chase car, knowing that I needed to stay up and catch the group on the hill or I was permanently off. I nearly got there by the top, but had to hop on a few wheels of other guys to finish the bridge. Fortunately, we went off-road about then and I was able to make it back up as the group slowed.
Now in the pack and down 3 or 4 matches, I was still nervous about cramps. At mile 35, we cruised through the town of Greenwich with a group now down to about 25 or 30. On a sweeping left hand turn, the guy to my left hit a pothole and launched his bottle into my path. Was this karma for my two bottles earlier? I didn't have time to think about that as, try as I might to avoid it, I hit it square with my front tire.
*aside* I would love to have seen the spectators faces at this moment. Cheering as they were, I thought I heard a deep gasp from several onlookers as I pulled what must have looked like a BMX tabletop-fakie-kickstand move before recovering and sprinting to catch the group. Wow.
Within a mile of that madness, I went to shift for an easier gear and felt a strange sensation through the right-hand shifter. Kind of a clunk / shred. My pedaling became strained and I could not shift to an easier gear. Rats, derailleur cable failure. I'd noticed some funky shifting over the past week, but it had been perfect after some adjusting earlier today. Now, I was 5 miles from the feed zone and debating dropping out. Knowing the profile (big hills to come), I was a dead duck. Combine that with the fluid deficit I'd accumulated, and I was suspecting a struggle once the fast boys turned it up.
As I approached the feed zone, I drifted to the back of our group and pulled over. Jill was bamboozled as I was seemingly looking fine, but I explained the malfunction as I pulled the shredded cable out of the housing. Race over. I watched as the group rolled up the road.
After the race, we headed to Woodstock for a great dinner with Coach and her sis, Sarah. These two have supported me quite a bit over this adventure, and it has made the difference. A parting shot from the pizza joint in Woodstock:
Don't worry, this blog is not dead. I'll take some time to think of my next steps, and Battenkill 2.0 might be the project. I've loved the journey, and am so very happy to have participated in the race.
Stay tuned.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Arrival.
The title has a few meanings. Obviously, we're here. By here, I mean in Upstate NY and within a quick drive of the starting line of the 2010 Tour of the Battenkill. What started as a "what if?" conversation months ago is now feeling very real.
We rolled into Cambridge, NY around 2pm only to realize that rider sign-in was to start at 3pm. So, to kill some time, we drove bits of the course. After about 15 minutes of that, I got too excited and just had to ride some. It was a good thing, as I'd been off the bike for 3.5 days. I'd intended to spin around NYC yesterday, but that seemed increasingly suicidal the longer we were there. I rode sections of Eagleville Rd. and the big hill on Juniper Swamp Rd., and I'm here to say that Juniper Swamp is no joke. Sure, you can climb it, but I anticipate that the hot dogs will be cranking on that sucker tomorrow, trying to split the group. Even on my older 23c tires, I could climb out of the saddle without problem. That is probably because the dirt is wet after yesterday's rain.
By the way, I just got a text from Jill - she ran to the train station in Saratoga Springs to pick up her sister -it's snowing outside. Unreal. I can't help but think of Jill's half-marathon in Orlando a few months ago. On the morning of her race, the winds picked up and the temps dropped. Snow, sleet, and freezing rain fell on her and Shelly as they completed the daunting 13.1 miles. Is it possible that she (or I, or we) take snow to the events we attend? Scary to think about.
It's supposed to fair off, however, and temps will likely be up into the mid-50's by the time I toe the line at 1:30. Perfect. Just me and 100+ of my closest Cat 4 friends. The goals remain the same: stay upright, finish, and in the top 30%. I won't be too shattered if I don't get that last one, because this race is sure to be full of all kinds of craziness that I can't control. Despite that little interlude of futility just now, I plan to leave it all out there. The CLM would do nothing less.
We rolled into Cambridge, NY around 2pm only to realize that rider sign-in was to start at 3pm. So, to kill some time, we drove bits of the course. After about 15 minutes of that, I got too excited and just had to ride some. It was a good thing, as I'd been off the bike for 3.5 days. I'd intended to spin around NYC yesterday, but that seemed increasingly suicidal the longer we were there. I rode sections of Eagleville Rd. and the big hill on Juniper Swamp Rd., and I'm here to say that Juniper Swamp is no joke. Sure, you can climb it, but I anticipate that the hot dogs will be cranking on that sucker tomorrow, trying to split the group. Even on my older 23c tires, I could climb out of the saddle without problem. That is probably because the dirt is wet after yesterday's rain.
By the way, I just got a text from Jill - she ran to the train station in Saratoga Springs to pick up her sister -it's snowing outside. Unreal. I can't help but think of Jill's half-marathon in Orlando a few months ago. On the morning of her race, the winds picked up and the temps dropped. Snow, sleet, and freezing rain fell on her and Shelly as they completed the daunting 13.1 miles. Is it possible that she (or I, or we) take snow to the events we attend? Scary to think about.
It's supposed to fair off, however, and temps will likely be up into the mid-50's by the time I toe the line at 1:30. Perfect. Just me and 100+ of my closest Cat 4 friends. The goals remain the same: stay upright, finish, and in the top 30%. I won't be too shattered if I don't get that last one, because this race is sure to be full of all kinds of craziness that I can't control. Despite that little interlude of futility just now, I plan to leave it all out there. The CLM would do nothing less.
The new tires are mounted, the shifting is crisp, the cheat sheet (athletic tape with critical course marks stuck to the top tube) is in place, and the nutrition is in process.
Now, it's time to chill out, watch TV and think about the good things in life: my family, my friends, and the fortune that is mine - that I can take time and energy and put it towards a goal like this. I'm a lucky guy.
Until tomorrow, my friends. Watch Jill's facebook for status updates as she'll be dashing around the course in full-on support mode. Like I said, I'm a lucky guy.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Ritual and The Road
Prior to leaving on our trip to the northeast, I completed my usual pre-race ritual. This primarily includes going over the bike, from tip to tail. The point is to minimize the chance for 'controllable' issues. Once I'm on-course at Battenkill, there will be many things I cannot control, but bike maintenance is not one of those things. I added a new chain as well, which has already improved my shifting. I plan to properly break it in tomorrow on the streets of NYC.
The hard training rides are done, the statistics have been crunched, and now the consternation begins. I'll spend tomorrow relaxing in the city with Sarah and Jill, but my mind will want to wander to the race start, the first hills, and the mad dash through the covered bridge.
I've got my new set of Conti Gatorskin Hardshell tires, and am excited to give them a try. I went with size 25 for extra grip on the steep ascents and for a little extra cush on the gravel descents. See, my heartrate is already going up...
After a two-day (and very scenic) trip from W-S through the Shenandoah valley and now to NYC, Coach and I are staying with her sister about two blocks from Grand Central. The view is killer, and the city is alive. More later, with pics from the city and our upcoming trip to Saratoga Springs and Cambridge, NY on Friday.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Country to Colony
Quick post, more later: Saddled up with the fatha'-in-law today and rode from Courtland, VA to Williamsburg, VA. Beautiful weather, great company, and around 58 miles of fun. Oh, and sunburn...
hello, aloe.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Goin' for the 'Kill - Day #95.
Hard to believe we're finally in the home stretch!
The Tour of the Battenkill is next Saturday, and I can hardly wait. Erich's training has gone really well to this point. I think it's safe to say that it's been a pretty fun process for both of us, though I won't exactly miss the one or two (or 37) lonely dinners! But his form is the strongest it's been in a long time (maybe ever), and I think his personal goals for this race are well within reach. I'm really looking forward to watching it all unfold, bringing this whole adventure full-circle.
E has officially begun his taper down to Race Day, which is mostly about maintenance, rest, and fun. Tomorrow he plans a ride from my parents' house to Williamsburg, Virginia = a 55-mile effort at a moderate pace. The intensity of his upcoming weekend rides will pale in comparison to the last 3 months, but he'll still have plenty of saddle time for good measure.
And I'm in hopes the CLM will send him off in style on the Monday Night Ride before we take off for New York on Tuesday. The forecast for New York City and upstate New York calls for rain for three straight days - right up until the cool, cloudy sunshine projected for Race Day! Perfect racing weather...fingers crossed that the forecast holds.
So if you've hung with us this far, stay tuned! No matter the outcome, the adventure is right around the corner...
The Tour of the Battenkill is next Saturday, and I can hardly wait. Erich's training has gone really well to this point. I think it's safe to say that it's been a pretty fun process for both of us, though I won't exactly miss the one or two (or 37) lonely dinners! But his form is the strongest it's been in a long time (maybe ever), and I think his personal goals for this race are well within reach. I'm really looking forward to watching it all unfold, bringing this whole adventure full-circle.
E has officially begun his taper down to Race Day, which is mostly about maintenance, rest, and fun. Tomorrow he plans a ride from my parents' house to Williamsburg, Virginia = a 55-mile effort at a moderate pace. The intensity of his upcoming weekend rides will pale in comparison to the last 3 months, but he'll still have plenty of saddle time for good measure.
And I'm in hopes the CLM will send him off in style on the Monday Night Ride before we take off for New York on Tuesday. The forecast for New York City and upstate New York calls for rain for three straight days - right up until the cool, cloudy sunshine projected for Race Day! Perfect racing weather...fingers crossed that the forecast holds.
So if you've hung with us this far, stay tuned! No matter the outcome, the adventure is right around the corner...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Mindless and loving it.
I was still feeling a bit stiff (ok, a LOT stiff and quite sore) from yesteday's ride when I checked the weather forecast this morning. Hmmm....rain, but probably not starting 'til after lunch. I had some coffee, started a few chores, then texted the CLM looking for folks willing to forego a little Sunday morning relaxation in exchange for City Loop recovery ride. Brad got back to me, so we agreed to head out around 10:30.
The remarkable thing about today's ride was the very low mental cost. Some rides, especially the difficult ones and almost all races, require quite a bit of mental energy. Perhaps better words might be 'mental stamina' and 'focus.' When you are searching your body for the last micrograms of energy just to get over a hill, mental fatigue can sneak in. "I don't want to do this anymore..." Even if the body could go for a few more miles, the mind is done.
A few years ago, I signed up (and sort-of trained) for the 3 Mountain Madness -basically a supported Triple Hump ride but with some miles cut out as is starts closer to the hills themselves. I rode it with a friend, a Type I diabetic, who was really in fantastic shape. The best part about riding with him was his need to stop on occasion to check his sugar and eat properly. This gave me the opportunity to stop and rest often, which I needed.
The last climb on that route is Pilot Mtn. Standing 1500 ft above the surrounding countryside, it is a monadock - a solid remnant of a once mighty mountain range.
The route to the top is just under 3 miles, twisty, and with plenty of switchbacks and kickers. It would be a GREAT place for an uphill time trial...or even the mountain top finish of a road stage. Rich and I hit the bottom together, but I started cramping immediately. I had about 65 miles in my legs and nearly 7000ft of climbing in already. But, here comes the mental part: Jill and her family drove up from W-S that morning to watch the final climb. I knew they were on the mountain somewhere, but not exactly where. With cars and cyclists all over the place, it was madness.
If it had been a different day, without Jill's family, without the expectation of that climb and finishing that ride, I'm not sure I would've made it. I was delirious and with every rotation of my legs, I jerked and wiggled due to the muscle spasms. I was truly afraid that my legs woud seize, leaving me stationary and flailing, just before falling straight over.
Well, that didn't happen. I made it up, and even back to the finish. But just like yesterday (which was easily harder than 3MM as we completed it in half the time I took in 2007 and really only stopped once), the mind is a major part of the equation when things get hard. Call it discipline, call it character, call it whatever you want, but there is some flexible zone of achievement can span the distance between the body's limits and the mind's goal. Not always is this bridge long enough, or sturdy enough, but it exists and can be called upon when it really matters. It's a life lesson as well, one that I am learning. I have to thank cycling for some of that.
So why the 'mindless' reference in the title today? Brad and I just spun, yapped, and talked about life. No stress, no cramping, no threshold, no heart rate monitor in sight. The weather was overcast, and the air thick with humidity despite the low temperatures. The ride is now over and I feel refreshed, not exhausted.
Good thing, because Coach is coming back from Charleston today and I need to get this place cleaned up!
The remarkable thing about today's ride was the very low mental cost. Some rides, especially the difficult ones and almost all races, require quite a bit of mental energy. Perhaps better words might be 'mental stamina' and 'focus.' When you are searching your body for the last micrograms of energy just to get over a hill, mental fatigue can sneak in. "I don't want to do this anymore..." Even if the body could go for a few more miles, the mind is done.
A few years ago, I signed up (and sort-of trained) for the 3 Mountain Madness -basically a supported Triple Hump ride but with some miles cut out as is starts closer to the hills themselves. I rode it with a friend, a Type I diabetic, who was really in fantastic shape. The best part about riding with him was his need to stop on occasion to check his sugar and eat properly. This gave me the opportunity to stop and rest often, which I needed.
The last climb on that route is Pilot Mtn. Standing 1500 ft above the surrounding countryside, it is a monadock - a solid remnant of a once mighty mountain range.
If it had been a different day, without Jill's family, without the expectation of that climb and finishing that ride, I'm not sure I would've made it. I was delirious and with every rotation of my legs, I jerked and wiggled due to the muscle spasms. I was truly afraid that my legs woud seize, leaving me stationary and flailing, just before falling straight over.
Well, that didn't happen. I made it up, and even back to the finish. But just like yesterday (which was easily harder than 3MM as we completed it in half the time I took in 2007 and really only stopped once), the mind is a major part of the equation when things get hard. Call it discipline, call it character, call it whatever you want, but there is some flexible zone of achievement can span the distance between the body's limits and the mind's goal. Not always is this bridge long enough, or sturdy enough, but it exists and can be called upon when it really matters. It's a life lesson as well, one that I am learning. I have to thank cycling for some of that.
So why the 'mindless' reference in the title today? Brad and I just spun, yapped, and talked about life. No stress, no cramping, no threshold, no heart rate monitor in sight. The weather was overcast, and the air thick with humidity despite the low temperatures. The ride is now over and I feel refreshed, not exhausted.
Good thing, because Coach is coming back from Charleston today and I need to get this place cleaned up!
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