Short note today for anyone who still checks up on our exploits.
This weekend Rob and I will be spending some quality time together as we make a 700+ mile pilgrimage to Highlands, NC for another race. The Special Operations Adventure Race is our next event and takes place this weekend.
We'll be taking Thursday and Friday off work so that we can make it to the venue in time for the mandatory team meeting at 7pm Friday night with enough time to spare that we can familiarize ourselves with the area at least a little bit.
Should be an interesting race for many reasons. We are entered in the 'Elite' category (which I think means we get a membership card and frequent racer points for use in future SOAR races) for the 12 hour/50 mile race. Last year's winners came in at about 7.5 hours. I am particularly pleased that photos from last year's race pretty clearly show a flat water paddle (dare I hope for a lake??) that doesn't require dragging the gorram boat.
Since the road trip, race, and subsequent drive home will be a multi-day event I'll try to post a little each day to keep everyone up to date on how things are going. If I get really creative with my writing I might try to exploit the parallels that our itinerary has to the archtypical hero's journey to make it seem that much more exciting for our dedicated readership (that means you Brian Soeder).
More to follow -- John
10 June 2008
08 May 2008
The Price of Laziness (a cautionary tale)
So there I was, no shit, at Brandywine Creek State Park, this zombie look on my face as we pedal the last mile back to the finish line in The Savage, the first GOALS ARA race of the season... and I haven't done much to train for it.
‘I am in the singularity of pain’, the voice whispers in my head amidst throbbing temples and the bitter taste of bile at the back of my throat.
This is what I get for leaving active duty Army, I tell myself. I have been relieved of the motivation to first achieve anything physically, and now the proverbial chickens have come home to roost. My body has finally started to overcome the conditioning the Army has bestowed upon me over the last eight years, much like the Harkonnen overcame the Suk conditioning of Doctor Yueh. I have been taught to (or rather mentally conditioned to believe that I can) find my physical, mental, and emotional limits, and burst through them like the Kool-Aid Man through a brick wall, reveling in it all the way...
...Well, Kool-Aid Man, you never tell us that once you break through about two or three walls, you inevitably will bounce off of a wall (or the wall will break you)!
Ahh, the bike portion, our strongest event. If we hustle we can get all our points and probably have 20 minutes to spare. We each down some food (there's something to be said about the nauseatingly feel of a tacky mouth heavy with sludgy powerbar spit when combined with the wet/clammy feel of sodden feet from shoes full of creek water, all the while chewing your cud as you try to get a rhythm going on your bike... something that water can't wash away) and refill our camelbaks. John and Rob put their biking shoes on as I drink some more water.
The string section of the orchestra begins to grate some foreboding notes in the background, meanwhile the dopplered sound of a train whistle is lost amidst the wind.
The downhill charge towards the Thompson Bridge is over and done in a heartbeat. There's a little confusion following the thin train right along the Brandywine instead of the faster trail about 10 feet higher in elevation that we had reconned the week prior, but we get it right eventually. Then it's a speedy little jaunt to the end of the trail, which terminated at our own Bridge of Death where we were forced to answer three of the following four questions before we were allowed to proceed:
1. When was George W. Bush's Birthday? July 6th
2. Which reality show producer also sponsors a multi-day adventure race? Mark Burnett
3. What is the average muzzle velocity of a 9mm pistol round? 1200 feet per second
4. When is Flag Day? June 14th
For the record, we got three right in about 1 minute. We will leave it as an exercise for the reader to determine which of the four questions we couldn't answer.
WHOO WHOO! The pain train's comin', baby!
Suddenly, after the Jeopardy, *hurk* ... I didn't feel so well. John recently hypothesized that I can puke on demand, citing the infamous 'red sauce' incident (which paired nicely that June 2007 evening at Allaire with the scratched cornea) and the more recent trail run he and I did this past Saturday where the bacon, eggs, and waffles became 'second breakfast' (Pippin, I don't think he knows about second breakfast!) Well anyway, I was a quart of fluid lighter about five minutes later, and then we remounted
Well it was all a blur from me from then on... the brief burst of adrenaline bestowed upon me soon subsided and the cramps began. So I enjoyed pushing the bike up the hills and taking the rather wicked descents down the hills. I'm not sure how fast the downhills were, but I would guess it was about as fast as... this:
Total elapsed time 5 hr, 51 minutes
Epilogue:
Well, another one for the books, or shall I say, blog. We came in under the 6 hour limit. We got to all but 3 points. We looking around for the race standings and noticed that 2 teams completed the entire course at around 4:30 total time. That means they were one whole event faster than us. Amazing. We found some free grub, ate up, and decided to hit Arby's hard for dinner. I think Rob even had a 32oz chocolate shake, he asserts Arby's has the best chocolate shakes. Finally, after about 90 minutes later we got home around 9 PM. A long day filled with mostly good memories... mostly.
...A few words on mountain biking and me. When you stick a 230-lb 6'3" guy on a moutain bike and he is supposed to follow guys with power-to-weight ratios far superior to him, you start feeling like this guy (i.e. frustrated):
A few words on Gibbons post-race food: is it just me or is a bunch of soft pretzels (and I do mean a bunch...), some chips, and a cooler full of drinks just .. not.. enough?
Statistical Analysis: Of the 106 teams that started, 41 teams finished all points within the time standard. Additionally, 12 teams finished all points, but outside of the 6 hours allotted. The remainder finished the 'alternate course'. Assumption is that they rank the 12 late arriving teams ahead of the alt course teams. So we finished about 50th percentile. Eh.
‘I am in the singularity of pain’, the voice whispers in my head amidst throbbing temples and the bitter taste of bile at the back of my throat.
This is what I get for leaving active duty Army, I tell myself. I have been relieved of the motivation to first achieve anything physically, and now the proverbial chickens have come home to roost. My body has finally started to overcome the conditioning the Army has bestowed upon me over the last eight years, much like the Harkonnen overcame the Suk conditioning of Doctor Yueh. I have been taught to (or rather mentally conditioned to believe that I can) find my physical, mental, and emotional limits, and burst through them like the Kool-Aid Man through a brick wall, reveling in it all the way...
...Well, Kool-Aid Man, you never tell us that once you break through about two or three walls, you inevitably will bounce off of a wall (or the wall will break you)!
I am reminded of last year, around the same time in April, when I was about 15 pounds lighter, and in twice better shape, and competed in my first ‘adventure race.’ It was the same race, The Savage, done at Marsh Creek Lake State Park, PA. I was with Rob, John, and Carol last year too. It had some low points, like pushing bikes up a steep hill, capsizing a canoe in 50-something degree water, and going off-azimuth for about 30 minutes. But it eventually came to an end. We ended up finding all the points and finishing within the allotted 6 hours.
‘I AM IN THE SINGULARITY OF PAIN,’ the voice grows stronger as my stomach clenches again. The long bands of muscle known as my calves become Prussik knots lashed to my tibia and fibula.
I struggle back to the finish point on my bike, and my mind mists over…
…I am reminded of a cool and clammy 3am morning at Glen Onoko Falls in picturesque Jim Thorpe, PA, the last weekend of June for the Cradle of Liberty. I had a hooded look on my downward canted head as I follow wayward glints of cat eyes affixed to seemingly random trees like the “tricksy lights” of the Dead Marshes, first up the steep stone stairs, then back down again. Waking up two hours later to legs that would not straighten out. Sitting in the parking lot with my head in my hands and tears of shame and inadequacy welling up in my eyes as I gave up the ghost...
Oh, and we did this too... just like these guys ... but at midnight. (I think this pic is of the very rock face we had to traverse)
'I AM IN THE MOTHERFUCKING SINGULARITY OF PAIN!!'
…My mind SNAPS back into reality when the handlebars of my bike falter while gliding over a narrow wooden bridge at about 10 miles an hour. Like many times over the past few miles, I have failed to maintain a straight line. This time, however, it came with a price. The front wheel grazes the side of the railing, and the chain reaction begins. Hand burns on the flat of the railing, wheel turns 90 degrees, internia carries body over bike and faceplant ensues.
‘You are in the singularity of pain, dear Sam, you are reaping what you have sown,’ the voices come together in something of a chiding, singsong commentary from the Greek chorus. (Oh how the Fates vex me!)
So, let’s flashback to the beginning…
‘I AM IN THE SINGULARITY OF PAIN,’ the voice grows stronger as my stomach clenches again. The long bands of muscle known as my calves become Prussik knots lashed to my tibia and fibula.
I struggle back to the finish point on my bike, and my mind mists over…
…I am reminded of a cool and clammy 3am morning at Glen Onoko Falls in picturesque Jim Thorpe, PA, the last weekend of June for the Cradle of Liberty. I had a hooded look on my downward canted head as I follow wayward glints of cat eyes affixed to seemingly random trees like the “tricksy lights” of the Dead Marshes, first up the steep stone stairs, then back down again. Waking up two hours later to legs that would not straighten out. Sitting in the parking lot with my head in my hands and tears of shame and inadequacy welling up in my eyes as I gave up the ghost...
Oh, and we did this too... just like these guys ... but at midnight. (I think this pic is of the very rock face we had to traverse)
'I AM IN THE MOTHERFUCKING SINGULARITY OF PAIN!!'
…My mind SNAPS back into reality when the handlebars of my bike falter while gliding over a narrow wooden bridge at about 10 miles an hour. Like many times over the past few miles, I have failed to maintain a straight line. This time, however, it came with a price. The front wheel grazes the side of the railing, and the chain reaction begins. Hand burns on the flat of the railing, wheel turns 90 degrees, internia carries body over bike and faceplant ensues.
‘You are in the singularity of pain, dear Sam, you are reaping what you have sown,’ the voices come together in something of a chiding, singsong commentary from the Greek chorus. (Oh how the Fates vex me!)
So, let’s flashback to the beginning…
Prologue: It could not have been a more perfect day. The temperature remained somewhere between 60 and 70 degrees the whole day, though a nice breeze was present atop Hawk Watch, the start/finish point of the race. About a hundred teams of twos and threes showed up for the race (I noticed one jersey with 105 on it). At the pre-race huddle, Bill Gibbons asked how many folks were first-time adventure racers. Between one-third and one-half raised their hands. I could remember raising my hand last year.
There was a nice sense of confidence as we looked at the map, the same map we had bought the previous weekend (a 10-year old orienteering map). We had gone through what seemed to be the entire Brandywine Creek State Park that Saturday (my birthday) either on foot or on bikes, and when you looked at the pre-plotted points, there didn’t seems to be very much that was an unknown to us, except for five of the biking points that were plotted on a simplistic trail map of some privately-held nature areas. ("All too easy, " I could hear, no I could actually feel that sentiment rolling off my two comrads like mid summer heat waves rising from the pavement.)
There were four events: Six points of foot orienteering; seven points of mountain bike orienteering; three points (reduced from four) of canoeing; and, of course, the team challenges (this year they were a stretcher carry, a blindfolded scooter slalom course, and a knot tying event (a double figure-eight on a bight, a Prussik knot, and a taut-line hitch). John had been craving to select a sequence that did the foot course first, and as it turns out we were treated to just that.
As the race began, Rob represented the team in the “Captain’s Event,” meant to provide initial spacing between the teams, and consisted of a sprint from the start point (located near the top of a hill) down to the Brandywine Creek some 150-250 feet lower in elevation to pick up our team ‘passport’ and race back to the start to link up with us and begin the course. Rob completed the Captain’s Event (around 2 miles) in about 16 minutes. Rob also had installed two windows in his barn the day before, and seemed tired. Rob was, to quote, “smoked” upon his return. That’s why I admire Rob. His stupidity goes in a different direction than my stupidity ever could.
Act I: Easterling Gambit (Accepted)
There was a nice sense of confidence as we looked at the map, the same map we had bought the previous weekend (a 10-year old orienteering map). We had gone through what seemed to be the entire Brandywine Creek State Park that Saturday (my birthday) either on foot or on bikes, and when you looked at the pre-plotted points, there didn’t seems to be very much that was an unknown to us, except for five of the biking points that were plotted on a simplistic trail map of some privately-held nature areas. ("All too easy, " I could hear, no I could actually feel that sentiment rolling off my two comrads like mid summer heat waves rising from the pavement.)
There were four events: Six points of foot orienteering; seven points of mountain bike orienteering; three points (reduced from four) of canoeing; and, of course, the team challenges (this year they were a stretcher carry, a blindfolded scooter slalom course, and a knot tying event (a double figure-eight on a bight, a Prussik knot, and a taut-line hitch). John had been craving to select a sequence that did the foot course first, and as it turns out we were treated to just that.
As the race began, Rob represented the team in the “Captain’s Event,” meant to provide initial spacing between the teams, and consisted of a sprint from the start point (located near the top of a hill) down to the Brandywine Creek some 150-250 feet lower in elevation to pick up our team ‘passport’ and race back to the start to link up with us and begin the course. Rob completed the Captain’s Event (around 2 miles) in about 16 minutes. Rob also had installed two windows in his barn the day before, and seemed tired. Rob was, to quote, “smoked” upon his return. That’s why I admire Rob. His stupidity goes in a different direction than my stupidity ever could.
Act I: Easterling Gambit (Accepted)
The Brandywine Creek meanders in a generally lazy north-south line on its way into the Delaware River, bisecting the Park into two sections. The start point was in the western portion of the park, as were two foot points. We aimed for one that was in a clearing along our beeline for Thompson’s Bridge, representing the center of gravity for most of our maneuver throughout the day. The unique feature of the bridge was that you had to cross over the Thompson Bridge Road overpass in order to cross the Brandywine Creek (this assumption would later be disproven – keep reading). The next point followed a steep ascent to one of the highest points in the eastern portion of the park. It is important to note that The Oracle, though thought to dwell in lofty mountaintop temples in Greek mythology, does NOT, in his current incarnation, like to climb said mountains. Thus began my long, slow descent into a place where my soul could be purified, also known as Pain Purgatory.
Once up to the hilltop, and the point found, we dropped a bit of altitude and hopped on a trail that followed the ridgeline on a slight uphill as we ran for our third point. We lost about 5 minutes looking for this point, but quickly identified the error and backtracked along the ridge until we we found the marker. The fourth point was easy to find since it was on a well marked trail, that trail took us up the rocky spine of the highest ridge in the park. Scaling the trail we passed several teams who were taking the same route as we were...a few of whom were pushing bikes rather than trying to ride the rocky climb. On our descent towards the fifth point, we found ourselves faced with a dilemma: break brush and take a high speed straight line shot towards the next point, or follow the trail winding a longer, safer route to the point we were after. Up until this point, we had chosen the latter, and now I pushed for the former. We decided that it was worth the risk and entered into The Easterling Gambit (Accepted) ©. Turned out that we gained about 30 seconds on the effort (passing one team who had started the downhill track before us). Huzzah. My highlight of the day (and Rob's). That said, there should be a rule that says never follow a red-green color deficient guy (me again) who says, “I see the [orange] point!” when it’s 150 meters away in the trees. [As it turns out, we still have no idea what Sam was actually looking at since we followed his line down to ridge to a parallel trail and immediately took a 90 degree right turn for another 200 yards -- John]
As we started to return to Thompson’s Bridge, we were following the trail but quickly noticed that some teams had decided to ford the creek.
Flashback to the week prior during our recon.
We watched a Brandywine Creek that had been swollen by a week of rain surge upstream and thought that a) it wouldn’t be fordable, and b) that it should be some easy downstream paddling. More on ‘b’ later…
Flash forward.
Well, the girls that were fording the creek were up to their knees and no deeper for the most part. So we decided to follow. Probably saved us about 300-400 meters of jogging in exchange for getting feet wet and slogging through 75 meters of water (in chess punctuation you might append either ! or !? to this). Later we would see bikers fording the creek as well, and I believe that we were all in agreement that this would be a ‘?’ move. The final point was the ascent to the hilltop, and Rob and John proceeded to jump into the woods to find the point along with the combined manpower of about four other teams trying to find the same point. Then it was back to Hawk Watch to check in.
Total elapsed time to complete the foot portion of the race: 1 hr, 47 minutes.
Interlude: Lookteamchallenge!Teamchallengedone.Quick,downasmuchfoodandliquidasyoucan! Ok,let’sheadbacktocanoes.
Act II: Would You Stop Hitting My Goddamned Paddle?
We huffed it on foot back to the canoe transition point at Thompson’s Bridge. Huffing is onomatopoeia, meaning it was also the sound of my breath leaving my lungs when clambering up onto the overpass, then back down to the canoe transition point.
The Gibbons Principle applies to all GOALS-sponsored adventure races. The short definition of the Gibbons Principle is that for every adventure race involving paddling, the water avenue will be just deep enough to allow a two-person vessel, but will cause a three-person craft an extreme amount of discomfort. And so the Bradywine Creek, instead of being a manageable three or four feet deep (like we saw the previous weekend) was now a bottom-dragging two feet in most places. The point placement forced us to have to paddle upstream for half of the event, so John (Today's master route planner and (common sense guru)) plotted us a course that consisted of one upstream leg, a longer downstream leg, and a short final upstream leg, which allowed us to use the downstream leg as rest before the final push.
Once up to the hilltop, and the point found, we dropped a bit of altitude and hopped on a trail that followed the ridgeline on a slight uphill as we ran for our third point. We lost about 5 minutes looking for this point, but quickly identified the error and backtracked along the ridge until we we found the marker. The fourth point was easy to find since it was on a well marked trail, that trail took us up the rocky spine of the highest ridge in the park. Scaling the trail we passed several teams who were taking the same route as we were...a few of whom were pushing bikes rather than trying to ride the rocky climb. On our descent towards the fifth point, we found ourselves faced with a dilemma: break brush and take a high speed straight line shot towards the next point, or follow the trail winding a longer, safer route to the point we were after. Up until this point, we had chosen the latter, and now I pushed for the former. We decided that it was worth the risk and entered into The Easterling Gambit (Accepted) ©. Turned out that we gained about 30 seconds on the effort (passing one team who had started the downhill track before us). Huzzah. My highlight of the day (and Rob's). That said, there should be a rule that says never follow a red-green color deficient guy (me again) who says, “I see the [orange] point!” when it’s 150 meters away in the trees. [As it turns out, we still have no idea what Sam was actually looking at since we followed his line down to ridge to a parallel trail and immediately took a 90 degree right turn for another 200 yards -- John]
As we started to return to Thompson’s Bridge, we were following the trail but quickly noticed that some teams had decided to ford the creek.
Flashback to the week prior during our recon.
We watched a Brandywine Creek that had been swollen by a week of rain surge upstream and thought that a) it wouldn’t be fordable, and b) that it should be some easy downstream paddling. More on ‘b’ later…
Flash forward.
Well, the girls that were fording the creek were up to their knees and no deeper for the most part. So we decided to follow. Probably saved us about 300-400 meters of jogging in exchange for getting feet wet and slogging through 75 meters of water (in chess punctuation you might append either ! or !? to this). Later we would see bikers fording the creek as well, and I believe that we were all in agreement that this would be a ‘?’ move. The final point was the ascent to the hilltop, and Rob and John proceeded to jump into the woods to find the point along with the combined manpower of about four other teams trying to find the same point. Then it was back to Hawk Watch to check in.
Total elapsed time to complete the foot portion of the race: 1 hr, 47 minutes.
Interlude: Lookteamchallenge!Teamchallengedone.Quick,downasmuchfoodandliquidasyoucan! Ok,let’sheadbacktocanoes.
Act II: Would You Stop Hitting My Goddamned Paddle?
We huffed it on foot back to the canoe transition point at Thompson’s Bridge. Huffing is onomatopoeia, meaning it was also the sound of my breath leaving my lungs when clambering up onto the overpass, then back down to the canoe transition point.
The Gibbons Principle applies to all GOALS-sponsored adventure races. The short definition of the Gibbons Principle is that for every adventure race involving paddling, the water avenue will be just deep enough to allow a two-person vessel, but will cause a three-person craft an extreme amount of discomfort. And so the Bradywine Creek, instead of being a manageable three or four feet deep (like we saw the previous weekend) was now a bottom-dragging two feet in most places. The point placement forced us to have to paddle upstream for half of the event, so John (Today's master route planner and (common sense guru)) plotted us a course that consisted of one upstream leg, a longer downstream leg, and a short final upstream leg, which allowed us to use the downstream leg as rest before the final push.
As we clambered into the boat, the seating order (front to back) was John, Sam, and Rob. The unfortunate middle man did not get a nice elevated plastic seat. Instead he got to slide his 6’3” frame into the bowel of the canoe and fight a constant battle with leg cramps, a piece of cross-beam wood digging into the small of his back, and the dreaded “Brandywine enema”.
In hindsight, the toughest portion of the canoeing was the first, long, upstream leg. It took us a good amount of time to find the rhythm with the paddles and thus navigate the good lines. There were about four or five times that required Rob and John to dismount and drag the canoe out of the shallows. This was probably the most stressful time for John, because I was consistently out of synch with his paddle, and our blades would smack like Spock and Kirk dueling in the kal-lif-fee. More than once I got to witness John (almost comically) devolve into berserk fury in his chastisement of me, 3 person canoe events, and Gibbons' selection of rivers. Then the paddle blades started to hit his head which is, of course, the natural result of trying to avoid hitting his paddle. Paddle or head? Life is full of tough decisions. Sad, but true.
In hindsight, the toughest portion of the canoeing was the first, long, upstream leg. It took us a good amount of time to find the rhythm with the paddles and thus navigate the good lines. There were about four or five times that required Rob and John to dismount and drag the canoe out of the shallows. This was probably the most stressful time for John, because I was consistently out of synch with his paddle, and our blades would smack like Spock and Kirk dueling in the kal-lif-fee. More than once I got to witness John (almost comically) devolve into berserk fury in his chastisement of me, 3 person canoe events, and Gibbons' selection of rivers. Then the paddle blades started to hit his head which is, of course, the natural result of trying to avoid hitting his paddle. Paddle or head? Life is full of tough decisions. Sad, but true.
Audience participation: Below is a compare-contrast. Any striking similarities?
Exhibit A: Us Paddling
Exhibit B: Spock vs Kirk, no holds barred
At some time during the course, John, announced a permanent rule that he would no longer race in a boat that had three people in it. This was cause for some lively dialogue between John and Rob while I continued to rub the blinding salt out of my eyes. There were many occasions when we craned our necks to look up the creek to see if there was the telltale orange and white triangles of a point, and many times we saw canoes off in the distance, continuing to paddle upstream as well. Eventually we found our upstream point (as GOALS had nixed the closest upstream point at a site that was occupied by a family barbeque, complete with idiot guy using a rope swing to fall into a two foot-deep portion of the creek next to a giggling fat girl – believe the quote from John was, “He’s getting lucky tonight.”...Rob's deadpan response, "That's unfortunate").
The downstream portion was about thrice as quick, a result of our improved technique and a 3mph current. We continued to leave canoes behind us as we successfully navigated some of the patches that had previously caused us to dismount. That said, once we approached the final points at the end of the downstream leg, we dismounted the canoe and I carried the passport to the final canoe point 50 meters downstream. Easy, right? The water had only been thigh high for all of our dismounted efforts. “Keep walking, Sam!” Rob called out as the water suddenly enveloped me up to my head. And then he said, evendently not caring about the sudden depth, "Walk faster, Sam!" so I swam the rest of the way to the point, oblivious to the fact that my cell phone had been submerged and subsequently murdered. On the last upstream leg, we seemed to do a little more walking than paddling, ultimately to our advantage. Later in day, while we were on our mountain bikes we came to a halt on the trail because we were blocked by a team who had seemingly given up entirely on paddling upstream and were carrying their canoe along the path that paralelled the river. We ultimately did not pass anyone in my recollection, but we were not passed either. We finally arrived at the transition point and huffed it back to Hawk Watch, another nice mile-long jaunt. (up hill, no really, it was uphill)
Total elapsed time 4 hr, 10 minutes (holy shit, did we just spend almost 2 and a half hours on the stupid canoe?)
Act III: The Pain Train’s Coming… WHOO WHOO!
The downstream portion was about thrice as quick, a result of our improved technique and a 3mph current. We continued to leave canoes behind us as we successfully navigated some of the patches that had previously caused us to dismount. That said, once we approached the final points at the end of the downstream leg, we dismounted the canoe and I carried the passport to the final canoe point 50 meters downstream. Easy, right? The water had only been thigh high for all of our dismounted efforts. “Keep walking, Sam!” Rob called out as the water suddenly enveloped me up to my head. And then he said, evendently not caring about the sudden depth, "Walk faster, Sam!" so I swam the rest of the way to the point, oblivious to the fact that my cell phone had been submerged and subsequently murdered. On the last upstream leg, we seemed to do a little more walking than paddling, ultimately to our advantage. Later in day, while we were on our mountain bikes we came to a halt on the trail because we were blocked by a team who had seemingly given up entirely on paddling upstream and were carrying their canoe along the path that paralelled the river. We ultimately did not pass anyone in my recollection, but we were not passed either. We finally arrived at the transition point and huffed it back to Hawk Watch, another nice mile-long jaunt. (up hill, no really, it was uphill)
Total elapsed time 4 hr, 10 minutes (holy shit, did we just spend almost 2 and a half hours on the stupid canoe?)
Act III: The Pain Train’s Coming… WHOO WHOO!
The wind blows.. the air feels heavy.. an ominous sense of doom and dread creeps over me. What's the forecast, Mr. T?
Ahh, the bike portion, our strongest event. If we hustle we can get all our points and probably have 20 minutes to spare. We each down some food (there's something to be said about the nauseatingly feel of a tacky mouth heavy with sludgy powerbar spit when combined with the wet/clammy feel of sodden feet from shoes full of creek water, all the while chewing your cud as you try to get a rhythm going on your bike... something that water can't wash away) and refill our camelbaks. John and Rob put their biking shoes on as I drink some more water.The string section of the orchestra begins to grate some foreboding notes in the background, meanwhile the dopplered sound of a train whistle is lost amidst the wind.
The downhill charge towards the Thompson Bridge is over and done in a heartbeat. There's a little confusion following the thin train right along the Brandywine instead of the faster trail about 10 feet higher in elevation that we had reconned the week prior, but we get it right eventually. Then it's a speedy little jaunt to the end of the trail, which terminated at our own Bridge of Death where we were forced to answer three of the following four questions before we were allowed to proceed:
1. When was George W. Bush's Birthday? July 6th
2. Which reality show producer also sponsors a multi-day adventure race? Mark Burnett
3. What is the average muzzle velocity of a 9mm pistol round? 1200 feet per second
4. When is Flag Day? June 14th
For the record, we got three right in about 1 minute. We will leave it as an exercise for the reader to determine which of the four questions we couldn't answer.
WHOO WHOO! The pain train's comin', baby!
Suddenly, after the Jeopardy, *hurk* ... I didn't feel so well. John recently hypothesized that I can puke on demand, citing the infamous 'red sauce' incident (which paired nicely that June 2007 evening at Allaire with the scratched cornea) and the more recent trail run he and I did this past Saturday where the bacon, eggs, and waffles became 'second breakfast' (Pippin, I don't think he knows about second breakfast!) Well anyway, I was a quart of fluid lighter about five minutes later, and then we remounted
Well it was all a blur from me from then on... the brief burst of adrenaline bestowed upon me soon subsided and the cramps began. So I enjoyed pushing the bike up the hills and taking the rather wicked descents down the hills. I'm not sure how fast the downhills were, but I would guess it was about as fast as... this:
Total elapsed time 5 hr, 51 minutes
Epilogue:
Well, another one for the books, or shall I say, blog. We came in under the 6 hour limit. We got to all but 3 points. We looking around for the race standings and noticed that 2 teams completed the entire course at around 4:30 total time. That means they were one whole event faster than us. Amazing. We found some free grub, ate up, and decided to hit Arby's hard for dinner. I think Rob even had a 32oz chocolate shake, he asserts Arby's has the best chocolate shakes. Finally, after about 90 minutes later we got home around 9 PM. A long day filled with mostly good memories... mostly....A few words on mountain biking and me. When you stick a 230-lb 6'3" guy on a moutain bike and he is supposed to follow guys with power-to-weight ratios far superior to him, you start feeling like this guy (i.e. frustrated):
A few words on Gibbons post-race food: is it just me or is a bunch of soft pretzels (and I do mean a bunch...), some chips, and a cooler full of drinks just .. not.. enough?
Statistical Analysis: Of the 106 teams that started, 41 teams finished all points within the time standard. Additionally, 12 teams finished all points, but outside of the 6 hours allotted. The remainder finished the 'alternate course'. Assumption is that they rank the 12 late arriving teams ahead of the alt course teams. So we finished about 50th percentile. Eh.
13 October 2007
Army 10 Miler (the race, the experience)
So there we were, no shi_, up to our armpits with 25, 998 other runners... (and some notable 3ID folks)
It was a hot morning, a humid morning at my 3rd Army Ten Mile (ATM) race, and wouldn't you know it... it happened again...
what happened?
I was once again irresistibly drawn to the array of 60 port-o-johns at the start line minutes before the start gun fired. In fact I was more than drawn to them, I was compelled. I was as compelled into that little solitary green smelly vestibule as a Reaver is compelled to close with a non Reaver. The problem was the waiting. 60 port-o-johns for 26k runners means there will be long lines and waiting. And wait I did... but everything worked out ok :) It was my first 'number 1' experience of the day.
After nature called we moved to the start line, we were in wave 2, which means our target complete time was between 80-120 minutes. There are a few pics of us out there. check them out at action sports international. (Or click the link for Rob and Carol) (Notice the GOALS shirt? from my first adventure race, where John and I medal ed, but that is another story :) )
So, when I signed up for the ATM, I thought I would finish somewhere faster than 90 minutes. But, alas, my training program deteriorated after the Hawk Mountain race. In fact, with the exception of one 6 mile run, I had 0 running / riding workouts before this 10 mile race. So I basically woke up and ran 10 miles because I wanted to, not because I was training for it :) That lack of preparation and the heat made for a slow 10.20 min/mile average. YUK. Thanks to Carol for staying with me, I am sure she could have finished in 90 flat or better!
The heat and humidity took their toll on many racers, there even was one death. He almost made it to the finish line. RIP stranger.
The race started great... we ran a 9:05 first mile with Jim and Susan. I felt some internal pain, clearly lack of running was going to slow me down. I finally got away from the pain around mile 2.5 when we headed down hill and into the shade. There were so many runners, I sped up and started picking people off, it felt great, but only lasted about a mile, when the sun blinded me and the heat oppressed me, and the 2-3 gallons of ice cream I ate the previous week started getting me back....
The middle of the race was good, miles 4-6 were fun enough, very scenic, probably my favorite miles of the course, and there was a GO BANANA sign!! You have to realize the significance of this sign... Sure there was a human size banana running with a human size Wheaties cereal box running past me (I think they were really people in costume, but I was probably more than a little delirious) and the sign was ostensibly for that banana, but (And that is a large but) GO BANANA was almost our Adventure Racing Team name. And at that moment, I thought of our fearless (the only thing he fears is a running race for running's sake) team captain, John. You see John likes the Simpson's and nominated GO BANANA for your GOALS team name on more than one occasion. So naturally, when thinking about my team captain, I ran just a little faster for a few miles.
I planned to keep one GU in my pocket. It was a mental thing... after passing the capitol building I would GU up. I did not expect to get any tactical benefit from the nutrients/calories but I was expecting to get some short term mental gains. Sure enough, around mile 6-7 I needed something. We had already passed the guy who played the flute (no kidding there is a runner who plays the flute)... actually he passed us, he was on his way back from the capital building, we were on our way to the capital building. So where was I headed with this part of the rant... Oh yeah, I needed something. So I GU-ed. It was good. It was what I thought I needed, unfortunately it was less than I expected, I was miffed and a little let down, so I actually ran with the empty GU packet in my hand for a mile. what a bummer, I was running out of gas with the hardest 2 miles ahead of me (no shade). I guess GU is not a replacement for training.
So the last 2-3 miles were head of me and I knew it. No pain in my legs, no blisters, no problems to speak of, but no real motivation either. I was looking forward to the last water point, I was planning to drink water at gatorade, and walk a few paces. The water point came and went, it was dominated by the backdrop of a hill of sorts. It was an on ramp to 395 or something, and it represented a 30 foot elevation change. what a wimpy hill, but it was just big enough to take away any mental reprise from the water point. great. So I dug in and made quick work of the hill, then the last stretch of mile and a half was ahead of me, completely open, crossing the river... just will power at this point. I am glad I was not hurt or cramping.
I crossed the finish line, secured a finishers coin for COL Moore and COL Palma, met up with Jim and Susan (finished 4 mins faster than me) and Ron and Jackie (77 mins and 83 mins total).
We parted ways, I headed to my totally cool cousin's place for a shower. Shout out Leigh and Finnigan.
Some of us got back together for lunch. I ate my ceremonial post ATM fish and chips and Guinness lunch and I made my way to union station for my train back to PA.
a great day with great people. next year I will train for the ATM and get a sub 90 min time. maybe my real goal will be to get John to run. (It would be good to get him by his fear of running a race for running's sake :) )
comments?
It was a hot morning, a humid morning at my 3rd Army Ten Mile (ATM) race, and wouldn't you know it... it happened again...
what happened?
I was once again irresistibly drawn to the array of 60 port-o-johns at the start line minutes before the start gun fired. In fact I was more than drawn to them, I was compelled. I was as compelled into that little solitary green smelly vestibule as a Reaver is compelled to close with a non Reaver. The problem was the waiting. 60 port-o-johns for 26k runners means there will be long lines and waiting. And wait I did... but everything worked out ok :) It was my first 'number 1' experience of the day.
After nature called we moved to the start line, we were in wave 2, which means our target complete time was between 80-120 minutes. There are a few pics of us out there. check them out at action sports international. (Or click the link for Rob and Carol) (Notice the GOALS shirt? from my first adventure race, where John and I medal ed, but that is another story :) )
So, when I signed up for the ATM, I thought I would finish somewhere faster than 90 minutes. But, alas, my training program deteriorated after the Hawk Mountain race. In fact, with the exception of one 6 mile run, I had 0 running / riding workouts before this 10 mile race. So I basically woke up and ran 10 miles because I wanted to, not because I was training for it :) That lack of preparation and the heat made for a slow 10.20 min/mile average. YUK. Thanks to Carol for staying with me, I am sure she could have finished in 90 flat or better!
The heat and humidity took their toll on many racers, there even was one death. He almost made it to the finish line. RIP stranger.
The race started great... we ran a 9:05 first mile with Jim and Susan. I felt some internal pain, clearly lack of running was going to slow me down. I finally got away from the pain around mile 2.5 when we headed down hill and into the shade. There were so many runners, I sped up and started picking people off, it felt great, but only lasted about a mile, when the sun blinded me and the heat oppressed me, and the 2-3 gallons of ice cream I ate the previous week started getting me back....
The middle of the race was good, miles 4-6 were fun enough, very scenic, probably my favorite miles of the course, and there was a GO BANANA sign!! You have to realize the significance of this sign... Sure there was a human size banana running with a human size Wheaties cereal box running past me (I think they were really people in costume, but I was probably more than a little delirious) and the sign was ostensibly for that banana, but (And that is a large but) GO BANANA was almost our Adventure Racing Team name. And at that moment, I thought of our fearless (the only thing he fears is a running race for running's sake) team captain, John. You see John likes the Simpson's and nominated GO BANANA for your GOALS team name on more than one occasion. So naturally, when thinking about my team captain, I ran just a little faster for a few miles.
I planned to keep one GU in my pocket. It was a mental thing... after passing the capitol building I would GU up. I did not expect to get any tactical benefit from the nutrients/calories but I was expecting to get some short term mental gains. Sure enough, around mile 6-7 I needed something. We had already passed the guy who played the flute (no kidding there is a runner who plays the flute)... actually he passed us, he was on his way back from the capital building, we were on our way to the capital building. So where was I headed with this part of the rant... Oh yeah, I needed something. So I GU-ed. It was good. It was what I thought I needed, unfortunately it was less than I expected, I was miffed and a little let down, so I actually ran with the empty GU packet in my hand for a mile. what a bummer, I was running out of gas with the hardest 2 miles ahead of me (no shade). I guess GU is not a replacement for training.
So the last 2-3 miles were head of me and I knew it. No pain in my legs, no blisters, no problems to speak of, but no real motivation either. I was looking forward to the last water point, I was planning to drink water at gatorade, and walk a few paces. The water point came and went, it was dominated by the backdrop of a hill of sorts. It was an on ramp to 395 or something, and it represented a 30 foot elevation change. what a wimpy hill, but it was just big enough to take away any mental reprise from the water point. great. So I dug in and made quick work of the hill, then the last stretch of mile and a half was ahead of me, completely open, crossing the river... just will power at this point. I am glad I was not hurt or cramping.
I crossed the finish line, secured a finishers coin for COL Moore and COL Palma, met up with Jim and Susan (finished 4 mins faster than me) and Ron and Jackie (77 mins and 83 mins total).
We parted ways, I headed to my totally cool cousin's place for a shower. Shout out Leigh and Finnigan.
Some of us got back together for lunch. I ate my ceremonial post ATM fish and chips and Guinness lunch and I made my way to union station for my train back to PA.
a great day with great people. next year I will train for the ATM and get a sub 90 min time. maybe my real goal will be to get John to run. (It would be good to get him by his fear of running a race for running's sake :) )
comments?
03 September 2007
Was this done intentionally?
I am going to skew a bit towards the white and nerdy focus of the site for this post, and away from the racing for a change...just a warning. Skip this if you aren't interested.
So, I spent a decent chunk of this holiday weekend watching (again) the entire run of Firefly episodes. I do this every six months or so as the mood moves me. Every so often I'll catch something that I haven't spotted in the past and this time was no exception.
The screen capture on the left is from the excellent episode "Trash" and occurs at the 21:40 mark of the show. Jayne is opening up a panel on an automated garbage bin so that its navigational system (don't ask...just watch the gorram show if you don't understand) can be reprogrammed. What caught my eye is the computer display to his left. I mean, honestly, who puts a computer display on the outside of a flying dumpster? But the real point of interest is that the monitor pretty clearly shows that the dumpster is running either Windows NT or Windows 2000. You may need to download the picture and blow it up, but trust me...it's high quality Redmond-produced gos se.
There are three windows open, five programs running in the task bar (win2k didn't have application stacking) and the recycle bin is in the bottom left hand corner of the screen, right above the start button.
This proved several things to me:
So, I spent a decent chunk of this holiday weekend watching (again) the entire run of Firefly episodes. I do this every six months or so as the mood moves me. Every so often I'll catch something that I haven't spotted in the past and this time was no exception.
The screen capture on the left is from the excellent episode "Trash" and occurs at the 21:40 mark of the show. Jayne is opening up a panel on an automated garbage bin so that its navigational system (don't ask...just watch the gorram show if you don't understand) can be reprogrammed. What caught my eye is the computer display to his left. I mean, honestly, who puts a computer display on the outside of a flying dumpster? But the real point of interest is that the monitor pretty clearly shows that the dumpster is running either Windows NT or Windows 2000. You may need to download the picture and blow it up, but trust me...it's high quality Redmond-produced gos se.There are three windows open, five programs running in the task bar (win2k didn't have application stacking) and the recycle bin is in the bottom left hand corner of the screen, right above the start button.
This proved several things to me:
- Even with several hundred years of time to continue developing, Win2K is the best and most stable product that Microsoft has yet, or will ever produce
- Jayne is the one doing the reprogramming. If he can hack Windows, then by god, anyone can
- Even with a few centuries to refine their product, MS products are still only good for taking out the garbage
02 September 2007
Longest. Ride. Ever.
As I posted yesterday I rode in my first century today, and all in all things went very well. Total distance was 106.63 miles in 6 hrs and 16 minutes.
The day started early since the ride was scheduled to kick off at 7 am, which meant that I had to be awake and out of the house at 0615. Now generally I refuse to get up this early since I left the Army, but in this case I made an exception.
I got to Brookdale Community College about 0645 after committing what I suspect are at least a dozen moving violations to make sure that I didn't miss the start. I needn't have worried. When I arrived there were around 50 riders in the parking lot, sporting a rainbow of brightly colored cycling jerseys and unloading a multitude of bikes that on average probably cost more than the kelly blue book value of my truck. One of the more interesting rides that I have ever seen showed up on top of a car that parked in the space next to me. It was a triple bike. Not a tandem, but a triple. Personally I can't understand why folks would want to ride these, particularly on a long ride like this. I have to think that after 60 or 70 miles the dude in front of you gets pretty stinky. I mean, come on, how long can his deodorant really last...particularly when your nose is about 10 inches from his back?
One other figure of note rode with the C group. This guy looked to be in his 60s, had a ZZ Top type beard, wore blue jeans, a long sleeve T shirt, hiking boots, and (I shit you not) road warrior-esque body armor on his TORSO, ARMS, and LEGS. This guy was wearing more protection that I had in Iraq. I don't know if he finished, but I saw him at the turnaround point so I know he rode at least 50 miles like that. Good on him. He must be a better man than I am.
As I unloaded my gear and stretched out I debated with myself whether I should ride with the A group, who are the fastest riders in the club, or the B group. I convinced myself to stick with the B riders since I hadn't done much serious road riding in a couple of weeks and this was at least 1/2 again further than any ride I had ever done. As it turns out this was a good decision. Once we started we never saw the A riders again and I don't think I would have been able to hang with them very long.
We started a few minutes late, and I have to say that the weather was absolutely perfect for riding. Crisp blue skies, temperature in the low to mid 60s, and virtually no wind. This made the first few miles fly by. Our group started with around 20 folks, which is large, and pretty much ensured that we would separate as the day went on. We did a good job staying together for the first portion of the ride, and by mile 20 or so I had met all the folks in our group.
At around the 20 mile mark we ran into some, shall we say, navigational challenges on the part of our ride leader which resulted in an extra six miles of riding on our part. At this point it was still early and cool, so we took it in stride, particularly since there were no hills to speak of on our bonus miles.
Shortly after we got back on the correct route we had the first flat tire of the day and I went back to help out the guy on the side of the road. He was having some issues getting his tire off the rim, and didn't seem to be exactly expert level on replacing a tube, but with some help he got a new tube installed while the rest of the group waited about a 1/4 of a mile up the road on the top of a smallish hill. Once the new tube was installed we started pumping and found that it wouldn't hold air either...maybe it was bad out of the box, or maybe it was punctured by the less than elegant use of tire levers putting it on the wheel, but we had to start all over from ground zero as the riders on the top of the rise glared at us with less and less patience. The guy with the flat didn't have another tube and was going to throw in the towel and call the support vehicle (yes, this ride had dedicated support vehicles...how cool is that?) until I convinced him to take one of my tubes and keep going. Once he agreed we got the second tube on much faster than our first attempt.
We got back on the road and picked up the pace for a while, eventually separating into at least two groups. I am not sure what caused the break in contact, but all of the sudden I looked over my shoulder and about 1/2 of the group was gone. Not just sliding back slowly as you might expect, but totally out of sight despite the fact that we were on a long, straight, flat road and could see for a good ways. I am guessing that somebody had mechanical issues, since that would stop folks cold, but I never did find out what happened.
Anyway, the group I was with kept riding until we got to Washington Crossing Park, near Trenton. I assume this park takes its name from the battle of Trenton and sits beside the Delaware river. I could see Pennsylvania across the river, which drove home for me how far I was from Brookdale and how much riding was left in the day.
As you might guess, the ride back from Trenton was harder than the ride out for a couple of reasons. First it was hotter...not dramatically hotter, but I would say that the temperature topped out in the high 70s which is enough to start pulling some electrolytes out of you. Second, there was a decent amount of climbing on the way back. Mind you, this was not Hawk Mountain climbing, but we had descended into the Delaware water gap and now we had to pick up all that elevation again before we could get back on the long flat stretches heading back to the coast. Third, we already had a bit over 50 miles behind us and a couple of the folks on the ride hadn't been eating much. Finally, the breeze which had been non-existent on the ride out was picking up as the temperature changed and we had a significant headwind for a good portion of the return trip.
Because of all this the ride back was slower than the ride out, but not dramatically so. We ended up averaging 17 miles an hour on the entire ride, which I think is a pretty respectable speed over 100 miles.
Now, one thing I haven't mentioned yet is rest stops. We stopped about once every 90 minutes or so to give folks a chance to eat, refill water, and use the facilities. These stops got more frequent as the ride when on and people needed more breathers, but by the time we got to the town of Marlboro I thought we were home free. But then, 5 miles from the end of the ride, someone decides that they absolutely have to stop at the WaWa for a potty break. Ugh.
When we left the WaWa for the home stretch I took the lead and quickly dropped most of the group on a longish hill on route 520. One other rider, a guy named Ferris (no, not that Ferris) that I had been bullshitting with throughout the ride, stayed with me and we continued to separate from the group. Our breakaway was helped by a conveniently timed traffic light that we were able to squeeze through just before it turned red giving us a clean break and the ability to basically time trial back to Brookdale on our own. Now, Ferris was doing his 5th century of this summer and was pretty clearly a stronger rider than I am. So we took turns pulling on the last leg with him taking longer turns up front and breaking the wind on the flat stretches and me pulling on the uphill sections. I am not sure if he got much benefit from sitting on my wheel during the climbs, but he never complained.
So Ferris and I rolled into the parking lot as the first members of the B group to finish the ride with the rest of the group coming in between 2 and 5 minutes behind us. Some of the group was visibly hurting, but by and large everyone looked like they were doing alright.
Overall this was a pretty fun riding experience and I will definitely do it again. It's tough to beat six hours of continuous riding for cardio training, and on a day like today it's almost criminal to not get on your bike. I am looking forward to upgrading my bike to something lighter and more responsive and seeing the difference that will make... but that won't happen for a while.
The day started early since the ride was scheduled to kick off at 7 am, which meant that I had to be awake and out of the house at 0615. Now generally I refuse to get up this early since I left the Army, but in this case I made an exception.
I got to Brookdale Community College about 0645 after committing what I suspect are at least a dozen moving violations to make sure that I didn't miss the start. I needn't have worried. When I arrived there were around 50 riders in the parking lot, sporting a rainbow of brightly colored cycling jerseys and unloading a multitude of bikes that on average probably cost more than the kelly blue book value of my truck. One of the more interesting rides that I have ever seen showed up on top of a car that parked in the space next to me. It was a triple bike. Not a tandem, but a triple. Personally I can't understand why folks would want to ride these, particularly on a long ride like this. I have to think that after 60 or 70 miles the dude in front of you gets pretty stinky. I mean, come on, how long can his deodorant really last...particularly when your nose is about 10 inches from his back?
One other figure of note rode with the C group. This guy looked to be in his 60s, had a ZZ Top type beard, wore blue jeans, a long sleeve T shirt, hiking boots, and (I shit you not) road warrior-esque body armor on his TORSO, ARMS, and LEGS. This guy was wearing more protection that I had in Iraq. I don't know if he finished, but I saw him at the turnaround point so I know he rode at least 50 miles like that. Good on him. He must be a better man than I am.
As I unloaded my gear and stretched out I debated with myself whether I should ride with the A group, who are the fastest riders in the club, or the B group. I convinced myself to stick with the B riders since I hadn't done much serious road riding in a couple of weeks and this was at least 1/2 again further than any ride I had ever done. As it turns out this was a good decision. Once we started we never saw the A riders again and I don't think I would have been able to hang with them very long.
We started a few minutes late, and I have to say that the weather was absolutely perfect for riding. Crisp blue skies, temperature in the low to mid 60s, and virtually no wind. This made the first few miles fly by. Our group started with around 20 folks, which is large, and pretty much ensured that we would separate as the day went on. We did a good job staying together for the first portion of the ride, and by mile 20 or so I had met all the folks in our group.
At around the 20 mile mark we ran into some, shall we say, navigational challenges on the part of our ride leader which resulted in an extra six miles of riding on our part. At this point it was still early and cool, so we took it in stride, particularly since there were no hills to speak of on our bonus miles.
Shortly after we got back on the correct route we had the first flat tire of the day and I went back to help out the guy on the side of the road. He was having some issues getting his tire off the rim, and didn't seem to be exactly expert level on replacing a tube, but with some help he got a new tube installed while the rest of the group waited about a 1/4 of a mile up the road on the top of a smallish hill. Once the new tube was installed we started pumping and found that it wouldn't hold air either...maybe it was bad out of the box, or maybe it was punctured by the less than elegant use of tire levers putting it on the wheel, but we had to start all over from ground zero as the riders on the top of the rise glared at us with less and less patience. The guy with the flat didn't have another tube and was going to throw in the towel and call the support vehicle (yes, this ride had dedicated support vehicles...how cool is that?) until I convinced him to take one of my tubes and keep going. Once he agreed we got the second tube on much faster than our first attempt.
We got back on the road and picked up the pace for a while, eventually separating into at least two groups. I am not sure what caused the break in contact, but all of the sudden I looked over my shoulder and about 1/2 of the group was gone. Not just sliding back slowly as you might expect, but totally out of sight despite the fact that we were on a long, straight, flat road and could see for a good ways. I am guessing that somebody had mechanical issues, since that would stop folks cold, but I never did find out what happened.
Anyway, the group I was with kept riding until we got to Washington Crossing Park, near Trenton. I assume this park takes its name from the battle of Trenton and sits beside the Delaware river. I could see Pennsylvania across the river, which drove home for me how far I was from Brookdale and how much riding was left in the day.
As you might guess, the ride back from Trenton was harder than the ride out for a couple of reasons. First it was hotter...not dramatically hotter, but I would say that the temperature topped out in the high 70s which is enough to start pulling some electrolytes out of you. Second, there was a decent amount of climbing on the way back. Mind you, this was not Hawk Mountain climbing, but we had descended into the Delaware water gap and now we had to pick up all that elevation again before we could get back on the long flat stretches heading back to the coast. Third, we already had a bit over 50 miles behind us and a couple of the folks on the ride hadn't been eating much. Finally, the breeze which had been non-existent on the ride out was picking up as the temperature changed and we had a significant headwind for a good portion of the return trip.
Because of all this the ride back was slower than the ride out, but not dramatically so. We ended up averaging 17 miles an hour on the entire ride, which I think is a pretty respectable speed over 100 miles.
Now, one thing I haven't mentioned yet is rest stops. We stopped about once every 90 minutes or so to give folks a chance to eat, refill water, and use the facilities. These stops got more frequent as the ride when on and people needed more breathers, but by the time we got to the town of Marlboro I thought we were home free. But then, 5 miles from the end of the ride, someone decides that they absolutely have to stop at the WaWa for a potty break. Ugh.
When we left the WaWa for the home stretch I took the lead and quickly dropped most of the group on a longish hill on route 520. One other rider, a guy named Ferris (no, not that Ferris) that I had been bullshitting with throughout the ride, stayed with me and we continued to separate from the group. Our breakaway was helped by a conveniently timed traffic light that we were able to squeeze through just before it turned red giving us a clean break and the ability to basically time trial back to Brookdale on our own. Now, Ferris was doing his 5th century of this summer and was pretty clearly a stronger rider than I am. So we took turns pulling on the last leg with him taking longer turns up front and breaking the wind on the flat stretches and me pulling on the uphill sections. I am not sure if he got much benefit from sitting on my wheel during the climbs, but he never complained.
So Ferris and I rolled into the parking lot as the first members of the B group to finish the ride with the rest of the group coming in between 2 and 5 minutes behind us. Some of the group was visibly hurting, but by and large everyone looked like they were doing alright.
Overall this was a pretty fun riding experience and I will definitely do it again. It's tough to beat six hours of continuous riding for cardio training, and on a day like today it's almost criminal to not get on your bike. I am looking forward to upgrading my bike to something lighter and more responsive and seeing the difference that will make... but that won't happen for a while.
01 September 2007
Nothing says Adventure racing like Spontaneous Pain
So, Rob has recently sent an email to a few of us with a comment along the lines of, "one of my primary goals is to run an adventure race (ed note: presumably a sprint) without doing any specific preparation." Along these lines, Rob, I humbly offer the following submission:
I just found out that my local bike club is holding their annual century ride tomorrow. I am going to do it.
That's 100 miles. Without any specific preparation.
With that said, it's not like I am going into this totally cold. The Krista was about 30 miles on the mountain bike, carrying much more gear, and going up a mountain several times. This ride is on my road bike, with very little gear, and coastal NJ doesn't have much in the way of hills to speak of. All things considered, this will just be about pacing myself.
It should be fun. Riding a century has been a goal of mine since I got my bike, so tomorrow I'll get to check that off my list of things to do before I die. I have done a decent amount of road riding this summer, mostly on my own, so I am looking forward to doing some serious drafting on this ride.
I am taking a break from prepping my bike and the rest of my gear right now to post this. The ride leaves at 7 am from Brookdale Community college, so I'll need to be out of the house by about 6:15.
I have plenty of food, and just to make sure, I am packing my PBJs tonight so that everything is ready for tomorrow.
I'll post again tomorrow once I finish the ride. Wish me luck.
I just found out that my local bike club is holding their annual century ride tomorrow. I am going to do it.
That's 100 miles. Without any specific preparation.
With that said, it's not like I am going into this totally cold. The Krista was about 30 miles on the mountain bike, carrying much more gear, and going up a mountain several times. This ride is on my road bike, with very little gear, and coastal NJ doesn't have much in the way of hills to speak of. All things considered, this will just be about pacing myself.
It should be fun. Riding a century has been a goal of mine since I got my bike, so tomorrow I'll get to check that off my list of things to do before I die. I have done a decent amount of road riding this summer, mostly on my own, so I am looking forward to doing some serious drafting on this ride.
I am taking a break from prepping my bike and the rest of my gear right now to post this. The ride leaves at 7 am from Brookdale Community college, so I'll need to be out of the house by about 6:15.
I have plenty of food, and just to make sure, I am packing my PBJs tonight so that everything is ready for tomorrow.
I'll post again tomorrow once I finish the ride. Wish me luck.
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