The Art of the Taper

Frank tapering

Exercising the brain, i.e., doing a NYT crossword.

What a cheap excuse!  No, not running today.  I’m tapering.  Tapering my butt!  I’m expanding.  I must be.  My shirts are tapered.  No-Iron, too, but that’s for another blog.  No, I can’t be running less than half of what I’ve been running, and then say that I’m gaining fitness.  My last long run, 21 miles, was 10 days ago.  Since then I’ve managed to get in a total of 19 miles, all at a repressed pace to allow for the magic of the taper to take effect.  Part of that low mileage was due to my being on call last week, so I had to work some long hours, and didn’t get in the usual run with the club on Sunday.  It was, in a way, a forced taper.  Now we only have three days left before the marathon, and I don’t feel like a sprite dancing over the water.  I was expecting, perhaps, a feeling of “incredible lightness of being” with homage to, and a twist on, one of my favorite authors, Milan Kundera.  Oh, I will grant that I’ve taken my bluejeans belt up a notch, and I’m running comfortably at paces which used to be impossible.  But I have a fear that all that will slip by, that the peak is passed, and that the old bugaboos will still haunt me when it comes time to face the start line.  We say we are ready, that we’ve put in the miles.  We have certainly sweated a lot these past four months.  Imagine the cost of all the sports drink which cycled through our systems, only to be lost as a stead flow of drips on the ground, and wrung out from shirts, shorts and socks.  Running is considered an inexpensive sport, since there are not many necessities, but buying shoes every few months, and refueling with organic, healthy foods to replace the calories burned is not cheap.

One of our club mates asked that I report on who eats what the night before the marathon.  Our group will be heading out to dinner together the night before, at an Italian restaurant.  Steve, who made the reservation, had the temerity to ask the owner if he was sure he would have enough pasta to feed us.  I’m sure there was silence and disbelief on the other end of the line, then “what, are you jokin’?”  Wine or beer the night before?  Good idea or bad?  I don’t know, but I plan to go ethanol-free.  All these fears come bubbling to the surface a few days before the marathon, but come the day, I’m sure they’ll be suppressed, and only confidence and good cheer will prevail.

Now, it’s off to run my last Wednesday night run before the race.  By the way, I signed up for Philadelphia, Nov. 18.  I think it’s good to keep looking forward.

Frank

Dancing in the Shower

It has been over 19 weeks since I began training for our upcoming marathon. It’s not unfamiliar territory for me, this being my sixth marathon coming up. For us with families and jobs, obligations, relatives, birthdays, weddings, funerals, vacations, and lawn care responsibilities, we can’t just say we commit to the training plan as outlined in Runner’s World, Jack Daniels, Hal Higdon, or any other plan, and then stick to the plan as it is written. It’s always modified. Perhaps “modified” (in quotes) is more like it, since sometimes we get way off track, and the plan is no longer recognizable. I decided to come up with my own plan, and to be sure, I made a lot of it up as I went along. This way, I could always say I was sticking to the plan. Very clever, no? But the general gist was to up the mileage in a steady fashion, get some long runs in early in the training, and steadily get fitter and trimmer.

It has worked out. The last month has shown I can do the long runs, get in the marathon pace runs, do fifty-plus mile weeks, do hills, and recover quickly enough to run again the next or following day. My companions in training are also looking good, trimmed down, faster, and able to go the distance. We talk of a fourteen mile run as a short run. We eat more than most people and still have dropped weight. In fact, all my belts are being pulled up an extra notch this past month. Jen Van Allen, of Runner’s World, spoke at our last running club meeting, talking about the book she wrote with her co-authors Bart Yasso and Amby Burfoot, “The Big Book of Marathon and Half Marathon Training.”. She is an accomplished ultra-marathoner, and talked about training, avoiding injuries, and the like. She referred to the actual running of the race as the “victory lap” after the real event of the training. While that’s a nice way to put it, especially if you know you can complete the race well under, say, a Boston qualifying time, I think it is fair to say that neither I nor my training partners will be running this as a victory lap. It is tough to get through a marathon. There is pain involved. There is what used to be called intestinal fortitude, but now is more appropriately referred to as mental toughness, which is, I suppose, really the mind-gut continuum. Jen Van Allen asked me what my goals are for this marathon. Here they are again, as I previously stated them: First, to finish without cramping. Second, to break my previous best time of 3:44:14 run in 2009. Third, to qualify for Boston. My Boston qualifier is now better than 3:40:00, six minutes under the allowed time previously, since they lowered the bar last year. I think that is a long shot for me, but I think it is possible.

This past weekend was busy with running. Friday evening I ran ten miles, Saturday morning, seven, and Sunday, twenty-one, at an average pace of 8:52 for the Sunday run. Friday morning, before running, I was in the shower, and feeling good, just started dancing under the shower head. I take it as a good sign that Sunday, after my long run, I still felt like dancing in the shower.

Frank

Poison Ivy

Since we are not solely training for a marathon, regular life goes on, even as it draws closer and closer to the race. Last weekend, noticing how the recent rain caused the grass growing between the bricks of my sidewalk to spread and cover nearly the whole walk, and the ivy to spill over the walk as well, I readied myself to the unenviable task of cleaning up that walk. Since I live in a corner house, the walk runs from the front of the house to the back of the property, a good distance. It takes the front walk of four houses across the street to match the length of my fine, brick sidewalk. I knew there was poison ivy along the fence in one spot, and every year I make an effort to avoid contact. Every year I fail, and wind up with ugly patches of scaly, red, blistered skin on my arms. This year was no different. I saw the obvious vines, handled them with gloves, and took great care to keep me and the leaves separate. But I think there were some small shoots I missed and wound up, again, with the rash. It got on my wrist, my chest, behind my ear, on my knees, and around my waistband. That stuff is sneaky. According to what I’ve read, and from my own experience, it takes about three weeks to go away. Topical steroids help a bit in lessening the itch, so does calamine lotion, but only a hefty dose of systemic steroids will squelch it, and one must take them for three weeks to keep the reaction down. I’d rather suffer the poison ivy.

That off my chest, how’s the training going, I can hear you ask. I would say we are doing alright. Last week was a 21 miler for me on Sunday, a bit over 9 minute pace average, with the last mile a steady 8:30 pace. Monday, I took off, Tuesday 5 miles, Wednesday 10 miles at 8:19 average, Thursday off, Friday 10 miles at easy pace, and Saturday 7 miles, again at easy pace. Today, Sunday, Steve, Tony and I met up in Manayunk to get in some hills. Steve and Tony ran an early 6 miles in order to get in a 20 miler. I met up with them at that point to do my planned 14 miler, which included the (now familiar) Forbidden Drive to Andorra route. Steve and I both ran bare, that is, without a Garmin or a watch. In Steve’s case, I think it was by choice. In my case, my darn Garmin 305 wouldn’t turn on. I tried pushing all sorts of combinations of buttons for 10 seconds, but nothing worked. Tony had his Garmin on, a newer model than mine, but he wasn’t divulging any Garmin stats to us. So, we had the enjoyable experience of just running as we felt we should. Keeping up with Steve takes work. Even with him having six miles on me at the start, he kept a rigorous pace throughout the whole run. As a measure of my own fitness, I am happy to report I was able to keep with him the whole way. We did an extra set of hills at around mile 12 for me, 18 for Tony and Steve, just to show we weren’t dogging it. Steve and I finished with a fast pace up main Street in Manayunk, with Tony not far behind. The weather has gotten very accommodating. It was in the low 60’s when we we started, and the sun felt good as it rose. This is such a welcome change from the last twelve weeks of unrelenting heat and high humidity.

After our run, and after high fives all around, mainly for Steve and Tony having done their last long run before Steamtown, Steve left to get ready to go to an Eagles game. Tony and I headed to the Manayunk Diner, a fine establishment serving good old standard breakfast fare. I had my favorite, two fried eggs over corned beef hash, and Tony indulged with scrambled eggs, bacon and pork sausage, french toast and two glasses of orange juice. Not that he finished the whole thing. More than half the french toast stayed on the plate.

My last long run will be next Sunday, two weeks before the race. A three week taper seemed a bit long to me. And the Garmin? Turns out one must push the Enter and Reset buttons for ten seconds, then release and the device resets, and turns on. I thought I tried that combination, but maybe not. Anyway, it worked when I got home.

Frank

Scabs on my nipples

I realize it is a bit sensationalistic to start with that title, but it is what happens when one runs a lot in the summer, when it’s hot and humid. I have run without a shirt during my long runs, but it’s not always acceptable. On the other hand, the tell-tale red streaks from the nipples downward at the end of a long run just don’t look cool. This summer, and it is still summer in spite of Labor Day being behind us, has been steadily and unforgivingly humid. I really look forward to cooler, dryer days and cool nights.

That said, here’s the current status on the road to Steamtown:

Saturday 9/1: reprieve of the Manayunk-Forbidden Drive loop, including the climb up Andorra St. ( see 7/22/12 entry, “Andorra”). 14 miles, a bit under 9 min pace.

Sunday 9/2: 13 mile run from the Haddonfield Running Company with fellow SJACers Bryan, Tony and Dan. Pace around 8:50. Went to pool party later in the afternoon, swam a “48” meter IM, drank a lot of beer.

Monday 9/3: rained all day, but after 27 the last two days, needed the recovery. Worked inside, throwing away accumulated trash of the ages. Barely made a dent in it.

Tuesday 9/4: worked over 12 hours. Kind of tuckered out. No run.

Wednesday 9/5: 11 mile tempo run at marathon pace of 8:30-8:40. Felt good. After the run, my legs did that weird fibrillation thing I wrote of in my very first blog entry. Very entertaining to watch, but a real pain when a true cramp develops.

Thursday 9/6: another long, hard day at work. Pretty exhausted and got home around 9 PM. No run.

Friday 9/7: long day, but only 12 hours. Had to run, so got out after the sun went down, and did 5 miles in fairly well lit streets and sidewalks. 8:50 pace and no tripping on uneven sidewalks in the dark.

Plan for Saturday and Sunday: 7 miles tomorrow at a bit over marathon pace. Sunday, 21 miles at around 9 min. pace.

Feeling good, no serious pains, just a twinge here and there, the plantar fascia, the pes anserinus (medial aspect of the knee). But nothing too troublesome. This is the time in marathon training when one gets really paranoid about anyone with a sniffle. I stay out of elevators, don’t touch hand rails, wash my hands even more than I usually do (being a surgeon). The other guys in my training group are also looking really good as we go into the last few weeks. The only wildlife of note this past week has been the amazing spiders and their webs. We saw one large spider traversing a long string from a tree to a lamppost, probably about 8 meters long and 2.5 meters off the ground.

I am looking forward to the runs this weekend.

Frank

California Trip

Arriving home late Sunday night one week ago, after my four days cycling in Vermont, I had a crammed schedule for three days at work, then I was on my way for another trip. This time, it was out to the coast, the other coast, the one where the sun sets over the Pacific, where palm trees are everywhere, and when running, hills play a major role. Having lived so long on the east coast, I get confused when I return to San Diego. It seems that east and west are reversed, and I must consciously think about which way it is towards the ocean. I took this trip to visit my daughter, who lives in the University Heights neighborhood, and to work on our family’s house in Poway, which we are maintaining and repairing to get it rented. I also planned to attend the fortieth reunion of my high school graduation. Forty years seems to me a ridiculously long time ago.

I had not run for three days due to my need to recover from the cycling, but it was also a forced break due to the work schedule, and travel. So, on arrival in San Diego, I was eager to get out there and run again. I landed in San Diego late Wednesday night, with my daughter Audrey and her boyfriend Evan there to greet me. I wanted to get in a ten miler as a start, so I looked at the map with Audrey and planned my route. On previous trips I ran around Balboa Park and back to her apartment, a five mile route. So, to add another five miles I added a loop from Balboa Park down to Harbor Drive, out to Harbor Island and then back. The next morning, after a quick breakfast of raisin bran, I headed out for my run. As practice for Steamtown, this is a great route. After about a mile of gentle rolling hills, it goes in and out of a canyon in Balboa Park, for a sharp descent and a steep climb. It levels for a bit around the park, then turns down to Harbor Drive dropping several hundred feet over a mile or so which really stresses the quads. Along Harbor Drive is a multi-use paved path which passes by a coast guard facility and the airport, and is completely flat. Once I hit five miles (plus a little extra, to be sure) on the trusty Garmin, I turned around and did the return trip. I took basically the same route, except went down El Prado in Balboa Park, past the museums, the Spreckles Organ Pavilion, and the Old Globe Theater to the other side of the park and made my way back. The climb back up from Harbor Drive to the park is a real beast, seemingly unending and very steep. Once at the park, though, it is a relatively easy run back to the start. I got in my ten miles, and it felt alright, though the quads had suffered, especially on the downhill segments. My average pace was about 8:54. The rest of the day was pure vacation. We spent two hours at Ocean Beach. Audrey and Evan played Frisbee and went swimming, while I was content to sit on a folding chair, taking in rays, and reading a book. Later, Audrey and I went shopping at Horton Plaza in San Diego. When I was in high school, Horton Plaza was where the navy and army recruits got into fights and went to massage parlors. Now, it is an upscale shopping area, with elegant stores and restaurants. In fact, the whole downtown area of San Diego has been upgraded, and we saw many tourists and locals making for a busy scene. That night, Audrey and I ate out at a sushi restaurant within walking distance of her apartment.

The following day, we planned to go out to Poway to work on the house. I ran the shorter route that morning, the five mile loop around Balboa Park, which still includes the canyon for a steep descent and climb, ever thinking of the Steamtown profile. Again, my pace was around 8:55, still feeling sore quads from the day before. We drove up to Poway, and spent about five hours on the house, repairing a split rail fence around the property which had gotten dilapidated and was falling over in many places. The house looks better than it has looked in a long time, with help from Ray the landscape guy, and Audrey and Evan’s impressive efforts. After the fence work, taking down some overgrown bushes, and installing a new light in a bedroom, we took ten minutes to jump in the pool before we had to head back to get Evan to work. The pool is being cared for by a pool service, so it was clean and felt great. That night, Audrey and I put together a pasta dinner with “home made” sausages from her local Sprouts supermarket. Sprouts is a very health-oriented grocery store, with mostly organic and locally grown foods.

PowaySplitRail

Evan and Frank and the Improved Fence

PowayPool
Frank cools off in the pool.

The following day, Saturday, I was feeling good, and wanted to run another ten miler. I did essentially the same route as on Thursday, except on reaching Harbor Drive I turned left instead of right. This brought me past the sailboats docked in the harbor, the Maritime Museum of SD with it’s historic sailing ships, and the USS Midway, an aircraft carrier launched the 20th of March, 1945. After service in Viet Nam and Operation Desert Storm, with many missions in-between, she is permanently docked in San Diego as a museum. The last stretch along Harbor Drive reached Seaport Village, a collection of cutesy shops and theme restaurants, built for the nearby convention center and hotels. With the large number of tourists walking the cobbled paths, and the enviable weather of San Diego, it is no surprise that innumerable homeless denizens call this area “home”. On a historical note, this village is built on landfill over Punta de los Muertos, burial site of sailors from Spanish expeditions of the mid 1700’s, many of whom died of scurvy. Again turning around at the five mile mark, I headed back to the climb up Laurel Street, past Solar Turbine Corp. and the leading edge of the airport runway, under “the 5” as Interstate 5 is known in California, and up the incline to Balboa Park. Then it was over “Suicide Bridge”, the bridge over the Cabrillo Freeway. Apparently, suicides there were popular until the Coronado Bridge was opened in 1969. Contrary to this theme, I was feeling strong and upbeat, and managed to keep a good pace right up to the finish, around 8:35 average for the ten miles.

After the run, I got my hair cut at Axle Hair Labor by Jackie. I mention this because this place epitomizes west coast vibe. Jackie was very nice and did a great job with what hair I have. We then headed out to Ramona, to the Milagro Farm Vineyards and Winery where my daughter is the marketing manager. It is a beautiful winery on a rocky hillside, surrounded by mountains. It’s owner, Kit, and his winemaker, Jim, create wines equal in my mind to some of the better Napa wineries. I realize I may be biased, but trying to be objective, I was very impressed. I got a tour of the vineyards, learned how to measure sugar content of the grapes and when to pick, and tasted their wines in their nicely appointed tasting room.

Hummingbird

Hummingbird at Milagro Farms

AudreywithVines
Audrey and Sangiovese Grapes at Milagro Farms

That evening, I had tickets to attend my fortieth high school reunion, as I mentioned. Having only attended Poway H.S. for two years, being in Scottsdale, AZ, for my first two years, I did not grow up with these folks, and I did not feel I knew them very well, or that they would even remember me. With that thought process, I decided to skip the reunion and instead spend the last night of my trip going out to dinner with Audrey and Evan. We went to a tiny restaurant called The Farm House Cafe, on Adams Street. We talked, ate delicious provincial French fare, had good wine and beer, and it was to me much more valuable than the reunion possibly could have been.

The next day, back on the plane, I flew back to Philadelphia, thinking wistfully of the last two weeks spent cycling in Vermont, running in San Diego, and generally enjoying myself.

Frank

Killington to Stratton

The last day of our four day tour of the Green Mountains was planned to take us back to our starting point, a bit of a round about route from Killington back to Stratton. We had started to enjoy life in the mountains, in nice condos, eating big dinners, drinking beer ad-lib from local breweries and having desert each night. The stars at night in the mountains are spectacular. The milky way shines through, and myriad stars one never sees fill in the sky among the more common constellations one can see in the backyard back home. We all slept well in our Trail Creek condo, even Keith, who had suffered the hard fall the day before and had to abandon the tour. Yes, he let out some odd groans whenever he turned in his sleep, but he managed to sleep through the night. For breakfast, we had bought the fast food favorite, sausage and cheese on english muffins, bagels, and coffee from the hotel convenience store next door the night before. Keith, who would be getting a ride directly to Stratton, had arranged for our bags to be brought back up to the hotel, where they would be picked up and brought to Stratton, too. The movement of luggage to each person’s hotel or condo each day cannot have been a simple task, and I commend the organizers for carrying this out flawlessly during the tour.

With the luggage taken care of, and Keith’s transport arranged, we got our bikes out and headed down the Killington access road to start our last day’s ride. Dan B. and I let gravity have it’s way as we sped down the hill we struggled up the night before. Dan T., not having the same lust for a fast downhill, laid on the brakes and took it more slowly. Dan B. and I arrived at the junction of route 4 well ahead of Dan T., and we crossed the highway to where the director of the tour, John Sohikian, was waiting with his van and tire pumps. We chatted with John, telling him how much we had enjoyed this four-day tour, and how well it was organized, as we topped off our tires for the last leg. Meanwhile, Dan T., having arrived at the bottom of the access road, missing the fact that we were waiting for him across the street, took off in a mad rush to catch us who were behind him. He spent the rest of the morning chasing us down, skipping the Magic Mountain rest stop, and beat us back to the finish line by a good margin. Dan B. and I, meanwhile, came back up to the intersection and realized that the other Dan had taken off solo. We headed out down route 100, enjoying the incredibly beautiful scenery, but also keeping a pretty fast pace as we headed towards Ludlow. Dan B. makes quite an engine. I was just barely able to hang in his slipstream as he paced me over the rolling route. Our first rest stop was at the Clocktower Center in Ludlow, where there once was a very comfortable and funky coffee shop called “A State of Bean”. It is now a snowboard shop, alas. The next segment of the ride took us to a rest stop at Magic Mountain. This is a smaller resort than the others we visited, and it was closed due to bankruptcy in the 1990’s. Apparently, it is now open again, but will still face the challenge of being surrounded by larger and more familiar resorts. It was at this point we could have opted for a bus ride back up to Stratton, avoiding the climb up the Stratton Mountain road. Many of the other riders were doing this, perhaps to get back earlier and start their drive home. But Dan B. and I, and we were certain, Dan T. as well, were not going to skip the last big climb of the trip. We mounted back up for the last leg of the day’s ride, down route 100, up route 30, and finally, all the way up the Stratton Mountain road to the base lodge. As it turned out, though a bit of a challenge compared to what we had already done, that last climb was not so bad, “only” reaching grades of around 10-12 %. As we rode up the last bit, our cell phones were going off, and we knew it was Dan T. wanting to know where we were. It turns out, he had missed the turn for the Magic Mountain rest stop and skipped it all together, just continuing on to the finish. Our ride that day was about 65 miles, and seemed short, done by noon.

We saw that our luggage was delivered and waiting for us. We went for lunch under a large tent set up in the area next to the gondola. Summer visitors were taking the gondola up to the top of Stratton to get in some hiking. John Sohikian was making rounds at all the tables, asking how we liked the tour, and gathering mental notes for next year. Keith had already been dropped off and he left us a note on our car, saying he would be up for another trip next summer. We changed out of our cycling clothes for the ride back home and got the bags and bikes back into and onto Dan B.’s hybrid SUV. We then drove off, leaving behind the beautiful Green Mountains, and heading back to our workaday lives.

This was an exciting and challenging tour. It had classic elements of man vs. man, man vs. nature, and even man vs. dog. It was at times sublimely relaxing, drinking beer with our feet up on the Lay-Z-Boy sectional sofa telling jokes, and at others, harrowing, requiring keen attention as we shot downhill, around mountain curves, avoiding road fissures and gravel while logging trucks and other vehicles passed us. Whether this will hurt my marathon training for October 7, I don’t know. I would say I kept up with the cardiac training, and my legs got an impressive workout, just not with the same action as running. Now to get back to the roadwork. We’ll be getting in more miles and longer runs in the next few weeks, as my training partners Steve, Brian and Tony did last Sunday, with their twenty miler. Good going, guys!

As a post-script, I heard from Keith that he got checked when he got home regarding his injuries. It turns out he cracked two ribs, had an A-C separation (acromio-clavicular), and a small pneumothorax. Tough guy, that Keith.

Frank

Okemo to Killington

A century ride is unpredictable. Like a marathon, all sorts of things can happen in a long event like this. Weather changes, injuries, bonking and so on can all play a role. Our ride today took us from Okemo to Killington, not a very long trip if your purpose is just to go from one to the other, about 27.5 miles. But that’s not what we did. The route started at Jackson Gore in Okemo, the newest development of the Okemo Ski Resort. Again, breakfast was simple, granola, Greek yoghurt, pastries, coffee and orange juice. We then headed out, up route 100, which runs the length of the green mountains. At route 4, we turned to go past Killington access road, and started the first serious climb of the day, the Sherbourne Pass. It was a good warmup for the climbs to come. After cresting the top of the pass, we had a four mile drop down to Rutland. Racing down these long hills takes nerves, The road has two lanes going up, but only one coming down, making the combination of fast cars and trucks, and narrow, jagged ruts on the side of the road treacherous for the cyclist. Before getting in to Rutland, we turned north, for a loop that would ultimately take us to the major climb of the day, the Brandon Gap. My good friend from college, Keith, and I rode together here along with Dan T. Our other Dan (B.) had taken off at a faster pace and hooked up with a fast group from Connecticut. It turned out Connecticut supplied the most riders of any state for the Vermont Challenge. This seems in no small part due to the director being from Connecticut, with a house in Vermont, and convincing a large contingent of his cycling club to come up for the event. We were content going at a moderate pace, and we even stopped to take a few photos of the Vermont countryside. In this part of the state, there is almost no open or forest land. It’s all farms, some very well kept, some a bit bedraggled appearing. We also saw signs of the destruction from Hurricane Irene, with crumbled buildings and road-sides washed away. There were also many stretches of new pavement where, we were told, entire roads were destroyed. The Vermont Challenge is a fund raiser to help Vermont recover from the effects of Irene. Cycling along these farm roads, we had to stop every now and then to take photos of the picturesque rolling hills, with barns and silos, fields of corn, and the blue sky with cumulous clouds setting the tone. It was along one of these stretches, about a mile or so from the fifty mile rest stop, that we saw a golden retriever zip uncaringly across the road to where a few workers were harvesting hay. As we approached, with Dan T. having shot ahead of Keith and I, we saw a cat running across the road with a mouse in its mouth. The dog came bounding after, right in front of Keith, and he hit the dog. Keith went down hard. He wasn’t riding very fast, and didn’t slide, but instead came down with great force, and lay sideways on the ground making a terrifying noise and managing to say, “I can’t breathe.” I quickly got off my bike and rushed over to him. I helped him turn on his back as he started to come around and his breathing became more normal. The owner of the farm we were passing, who was not the owner of the dog, nor the hay field, came out to help. He moved his industrial sized pickup truck out to the road to block traffic. By then, Keith was starting to breathe more normally. His left shoulder was giving him intense pain, and at first glance, seemed to have a separation between the collar bone and the shoulder. On closer exam, it wasn’t separated, but it was badly bruised. He was sitting up and thinking more clearly. Finally, he was able to stand, and we took a look at his bike. The handle bars were about 90 degrees skewed, but the gears and wheels were intact. I was able to muscle the handlebars back into alignment. Since we were only a mile from the rest stop, we decided to ride there, and Keith could decide if he could continue. It was a very slow mile, particularly painful for Keith, who was cruelly jarred by every little bump in the road. By the time we arrived at the rest stop, Keith was in a lot of pain, and clearly could not go on. The provider of our rest stop snacks, BonkSupport.com, offered to give Keith and his bike a ride to the finish, at Killington Mountain. Keith quickly accepted, recognizing that his Vermont Challenge Tour had come to an abrupt end.

I continued on. Dan T. had already gone blithely ahead, not aware of the accident that felled our companion. The next twenty miles I rode solo, seeing no one from the ride ahead or behind me. This was supposed to be a loop of bucolic splendor, but it was tough not to think about Keith and how he was fairing.  The next stop, at 70 miles was a very brief one. I saw Dan T. heading up the hill as I arrived, but he was too far ahead to hear me, and I needed to get some water and have a gel before starting the main climb. I filled my water bottle from a faucet outside the store, downed a gel I had in my pocket, then started out on the five mile climb. The first four miles were not too severe. I kept a steady but slow pace except where the road occasionally dipped down, for a short break from the climb. At about the four mile mark, the road enters a national forest, and gets severely steep. It took every bit of strength I could muster from my legs to pedal up the last mile, reaching grades of fourteen percent, with no significant flat areas to take a break. As I struggled, going around four to five miles per hour, a young, slender woman rode past me, saying, “I’d say I was passing, but I’m too tired to say it”, when a mere “passing” would have been sufficient. As I approached the summit of the climb, I noticed signs for the Long Trail, the oldest established hiking trail in the United States, and which I plan to hike next summer. After a short stop at the top with a few other cyclists who came up shortly after me, and a round of congratulations, I headed down the four mile descent, taking care to avoid the fissures in the road as I sped around the curves. The last stretch of the ride was to the base of Killington Mountain, then up the Killington Mountain Road to Outback Pizza, about three miles up the road. With all the climbing we had done, I really didn’t want to climb any more. But I made it to the restaurant, where the two Dans were already perched on bar stools telling stories with the other intrepid cyclists, drinking beer courtesy of the Otter Creek brewery, and eating sandwiches provided us by the tour.

After two beers, yes, two, we got back on our bikes to climb the last mile up the road to our Condo, which Keith had already staked out for us. He got our bags delivered to our room, and made a reservation for us at a nearby restaurant. We were completely beat from riding 106 miles with 6875 feet of climbing, but managed to recover and had a very good meal at Ovations restaurant, at the Killington Grand Lodge. We headed back to the condo, and, floating high on our ride, but also on the wine and beer we drank, came up with an idea for a sitcom we plan to call “Four Guys”, about for cycling friends who get into all sorts of crazy predicaments. Then it was to bed, to rest up for the next day’s challenges.

Frank

Manchester to Okemo

Manchester doesn’t seem to have much in the way of early breakfast. Up For Breakfast, the breakfast place locals like, opens at 7, but we needed to get breakfast a bit earlier in order to get to the ride start on time. Dan B. walked down to the combo Mobile gas station and Maplefields minimart, and brought back a variety of egg and sausage sandwiches, donuts and coffee. Another champion’s breakfast. We gathered for the ride at the Dana Thompson Recreation Park. We were led out on a loop through town, although the expected cheering throngs of townies did not materialize, then headed out for day two. The first twenty miles were covered in well under one hour, since the road was relatively flat and we had a tail-wind. In spite of our speed, we still were able to appreciate the scenery, including dairy farms, meadows with wild flowers, and a large lake, along Route 30. The route got moderately hilly the second 20 miles, which slowed us down considerably, and we lost the tail wind. We stopped at a bakery at around 35 miles to refuel. As with most places in rural Vermont, it had a quaint look, and served home baked goodies that were very tasty. I was feeling a major bonk at this point, and I think my week on call the week before was catching up with me. The last 28 miles included some very long, but moderate grade climbing, long downhills, some highway riding, and it proved to be a great opportunity for 71 year old Dan T. to show what he can do. He really powered up the hills, keeping pace with Dan B., and outpacing Keith and me by a mile. The Lion of Haddonfield roared today! Our ride finished at the Outback Pizza in Ludlow, where very nice sandwiches and salads were waiting for us, and the Otter Creek brewery rep was providing our group free beer. Total miles about 68. Then, we had to mount back up and ride a mile back to the elegant Jackson Gore Lodge, where we checked in to our luxury suite (for real, we are in a premium 3 bedroom suite). Keith and I took advantage of the pool here for a casual swim. Dinner was a barbecue mix of pulled pork, cowboy beans and slaw, while listening to a local band. This was a regular event here, not specific for our group, so a lot of the locals turned out. Tomorrow is a major ride, 104 miles over steep climbs and fast downhills. Should be good.

Frank

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Stratton to Manchester

Day one in my adventure in Vermont started on Stratton Mountain, a place with which I am ver familiar. I’ve been here dozens of times with my family for ski trips, but never in the summer. My group, Dan T., Dan B., Keith and I decided to stay in a condo In Stratton, and we wound up being assigned the very same unit my family stayed in back in February when we were here to ski. We were here for the inaugural edition of the Vermont Challenge, a four day point-to-point cycling tour in the Green Mountains. We got checked in to our condo easily enough. We then wandered the area of the Stratton Village, searching for signs of life and the registration area for the event. Finally, we located it in a building near the gondola. Looking up the mountain, the ski runs look very different, covered in green grass and surrounded by leafed-out trees. We signed in and were given a strap to be worn around our wrist the duration of the event, like the ones used at multi-day concerts. We got a large bag with a Vermont Challenge cycling jersey, very attractive, although Dan T. thought it was “hideous”. It also contained a bunch of Hammer gels, several tourist pamphlets, printed cue sheets, and a name badge. Upstairs in the bar, they had dinner waiting for us, buffet-style burgers, salad and brownies, plus we were given two tickets for beers from the bar. A live band of slightly past-their-prime rockers was playing, including one odd song “Take it like a man”. I wasn’t sure what kind of bar this was… Anyway, this was the send off party for the group, and we sat out on the deck, enjoyed the view of the mountain, and just relaxed. We got a speech by the director of the event, thanking all those who helped, naming all the sponsors, and giving instructions on how to proceed the next day.

The next morning we got up early, got our suitcases to the drop-off point, and got a barely adequate breakfast of raisin bran, yoghurt, bagels and coffee. After the obligatory speech, again thanking the sponsors, about fifty riders headed out for the first day’s ride. This number would grow with each day, as many more riders would be joining us for the three, two and one day options. The first part of the ride was a long, screaming downhill, part of which was through a road construction zone. The flag girl held traffic for us as our group rode through. Then the ride started into rolling hills, and a couple more long down hills before we got to the valley where Manchester is. This ride was a pretty benign ride, mostly down hill, with a long loop around Manchester, before winding up in a beautiful park outside of Manchester. The total miles for the day was 56. They had a catered lunch waiting for us under a large tent, music playing from speakers set up by our combination DJ and photographer, and we sat out enjoying the warm sun.

We checked into our inn, a very quaint old victorian house called Sutton’s Place, run by Frank Sutton for over thirty years. He’s a tall gent who lives with his wife in the inn, charges very reasonable rates, and is very accommodating. The inn is close to Northshire Bookstore, which I feel is the best independent bookstore in the country. We spent an hour browsing, and each of us buying a book or three. I bought “This is a book” by Demetri Martin. Very funny. After that, I had to get in a run. I did a five mile run out Barnumville Road 2.5 miles then back. I was able to manage an 8:50 average, with some significant hills in the run. I’m thinking of laying off the running the rest of the tour since the serious climbing is coming. Dinner was at “Ye Old Tavern” (for real) and it was delicious. Then it was back to the inn to get rested for the next day.

Frank

Vermont Challenge

Ed told me, “Frank, at some point you will need to decide between cycling and running in your training.” This was a few years ago when I was training for my first marathon, but still cycling a few days a week. Over the next year I made a big shift, devoting more time to running, and putting fewer miles on the Pinarello. Now, I still ride to work when I can, and get in the occasional longer ride. Ironically, the last longer ride I took was out to Valley Forge with Ed, Michelle, and a resident of mine named Mike. Ed’s knees don’t allow him to run like he used to, and he has become a cycling and swimming demon.

Today, I awoke at five AM, because that is my habit, but I’m in a condo on Stratton Mountain getting ready to ride the four-day Vermont Challenge. This is the inaugural year for this event, which, on paper, looks very daunting. It’s four days of cycling in the Green Mountains of central Vermont, going from point to point. We start from Stratton to Manchester, then Manchester to Okemo. The third day is Okemo to Killington, and the last day is Killington back to Stratton. Each day is around 60 miles, except for the third day which covers 104 miles and includes a long, hard climb in the middle of the route. Of course, this being the Green Mountains, it appears every day is all climbing and descending, since there is not much flat here.

Whether this will hurt my training for Steamtown, or be a good counterpoint, with a successful cross-training effect, I don’t know. I am up here with three friends, two Dans and a Keith, with whom I ride every year, and we are out to have four tough but fun days of cycling. I think I’ll be riding into shape during the event, and not hoping to shine the first day. I will try to write each day to let folks know how this respite from marathon training is going. I brought my running shoes with me in the fanciful belief I could get in a run or two. We’ll see if that happens…

Frank

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