Do a little more of that work which you had sometime confessed to be good, which you feel that society and your justest judge rightly demands of you. Do what you reprove yourself for not doing. Know that you are neither satisfied nor dissatisfied with yourself without reason Let me say to you and to myself in one breath, Cultivate the tree which you have found to bear fruit in your soil.

Henry David Thoreau

I suspect no one is reading this anymore, nor is that a surprise. Life has taught me a myriad of lessons that only it could. This time I would like to think I have really listened. Stay tuned.

Practicing Harmony

Profound truths aside, these days even the most practical and obvious truths are ignored. We are like monkeys who dwell in the forest and shit on the very branches from which we hang. Every day we hear people talking about the state of the economy, not recognizing the connection between recession and greed. Because of greed, jealousy, and pride, the economy will never become strong enough to ensure that every person has access to the basic necessities of life. Our dwelling place, the Earth, becomes more and more polluted. I have met people who condemn ancient rulers and emperors and ancient religions as the source of all conflict. But the secular and modern world has not done any better; if anything, it has done worse. What is it that the modern world has made better? One of the main effects of science and technology has been to destroy the world more quickly. Many scientists believe that all living systems and all life support systems on Earth are in decline.

It’s time for modern people like ourselves to give some thought to spiritual matters, even if we have no time to sit on a cushion, even if we are put off by those who wear rosaries around their necks, and even if we are embarrassed to exhibit our religious leanings to our secular friends. Contemplating the impermanent nature of everything that we experience and the painful effect of clinging to the self brings peace and harmony—if not to the entire world, at least within our own sphere.

DZONGSAR JAMYANG KHYENTSE RINPOCHE

Looking back at this past weekend, and the logistical hell that ensued early on, the race actually turned out to be the easiest part. (And I’d like to think that’s saying something when you talk about the infamous American Zofingen.) Kick and pedal like hell. Everyone and everything disappears when I’m in that special place, and there is never ever anywhere else I’d rather be. What an awesomely challenging race, with a culture and soul unparallel to anything I’ve experienced to date. Equal parts competition, participants, family, friends, and organization, made this a beautiful event.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the whole weekend was as nice as those 6 hours we got to spend at the race. Nope. Hardly. Saturday began for me, after researching all last week on the riding section and pinging my coach, with the decision to go use the road bike opposed to the new beauty. Painful decision, but I knew in my heart of hearts, a race is no place to test week old equipment. Luckily, this worked out well for me, as in my opinion, and as my legs proved, having a tri bike/aggressive aero position for this race was largely, if not fully negated, by the amount of climbing involved (I’ll get to that).

Therefore early Saturday, after setting off for a quick 30 minute prescribed flush of the legs in the park, I set to task to get the old S-Works ready for battle. She was in need of some love, and albeit I’ve been training on her solely to this day, she was getting a mysterious creak that first made itself heard in the hills of Connecticut. I’ve trained and raced on that bike for 5 years, maybe longer, but she’s still a beauty, in excellent mechanical shape. Sure, she’s pretty heavy by today’s standards, but with a geometry that is perfect for power, she’ll always be in the arsenal.

After wheeling her out onto the balcony, I stripped the drivetrain down. First place to look for creaks. Pulled off the cranks, bottom bracket petals, degreased, greased, reassembled and dialed-in the front and rear mech after a little cable stretch. That was a couple hour process, but she was good to go. Next in order was the wheels. Albeit, I wasn’t going to go aero, I was going to get every advantage I could. That meant lacing up the new HED 6/9. And after a quick switch of the Ksyrium SL’s/cassette, Little Red, was looking ready for the charge. Or so I thought…

After another hour or so to ready the gear bag, cleaning up the mug for the big race, we headed out for a walk around the town. We had some errands to run, and I needed a minute to decompress before we were to pick up the Zip Car at 4PM. Well, I think we got a total of 30 minutes of decompression before the call came. I didn’t recognize the number, so naturally, I let it go to voicemail. Then, came the voicemail. Hmmm? Intrigued I listened. Went something like this:

Hi Terrence, this is ———- from Zip Car. We do apologize but we have to cancel your scheduled Zip Car for this evening at 4PM until tomorrow at 3PM. We’re sorry for the inconvenience, and please call us at 1-866-4ZIPCAR if you have any questions.

Panic. Panic. Mind you this was at 3PM that I got this call. 3PM!! I couldn’t even really get that angry, I was too worried about finding a way to get up there. We were on our way home, and upon entering the apartment I immediately called, and explained the situation. How could you cancel now, this late, without helping or offering an alternative? Ridiculous! So I spend the next 35 minutes on the phone with customer service, as they tried desperately to find me another car for those hours. Forget it. NYC, an hour before I have to leave, on a nice weekend; every freaking car in the city was unavailable during those times. And this is NYC, there must be thousands of those damn things.

After 20 minutes, Michelle went to work desperately with the rental companies, but even that was sounding hopeless. Finally, Zip Car found me one. A truck, way up on 83rd street in Manhattan, available from 9PM Saturday to 1PM Sunday. I took it. I had to, what were my options?! Not go? No way!! Although I was thinking that perhaps all this was bad juju. Maybe this is a ominous sign? Reason eventually won out, as I had been obsessing about doing this race; no way was I going to skip. Eventually, after hanging up, I spent another hour looking for a car that was a better option, until the miracle happened. A Nissan Altima in Williamsburg, available from 7PM Saturday to 4PM Sunday. I immediately called to book the car, and cancel the other, and do so with a live person so to avoid any charges. Ha! She tried, until I finally lost my cool and took it out on her. Sorry customer service girl. In the end, no charge, and we were finally go for that evening, with a three hour delayed departure.

All this took hours. Suddenly it was 5PM, and we were both zapped from the adrenaline of seeing the race potentially slip away. Although we wouldn’t get the weekend we planned, at least we’d make the race. That being said, and knowing now I had a car reserved opposed to the SUV I had, I set to work disassembling my bike so that it would fit. I just wanted to lube the chain first, and for those of us that don’t know, that involved flipping the bike, grabbing the crank and hand-pedaling while dropping stuff on the chain. Follow that up with a quick click through of the gears to drop some on the rear cassette, and call it good. Except, you see, it was by no means….good. Remember when I said above ‘Or so I thought…’? Yeah, this is that.

What was going on? Suddenly the rear mech I dialed in earlier was not shifting the full 10 in the rear. And then I saw!! The old cassette’s stack height pulled from my Ksyrium did not match the cassette hub body, and thus was loose! I would’ve been totally hosed, and possibly not even been able to ride had I gone to the race like that. I immediately started looking for another spacer, and after grabbing one from another cassette, I got just the right amount to make a snug fit when I tightened down the lock ring. The wheels now fixed, pulled, bagged, and everything set by the door. Things finally seemed to be O.K., and I really can’t help but think now when reflecting, the car being canceled, was the best thing that could’ve happened…strange.

That ended up killing another frantic half hour. Food was the next order of business, and after a quick bite, we decided on a car to Williamsburg to get the Zip Car. Subways were not an option. Finally, as we slowly approached the garage, we were there. Hmm, not back yet, but that was O.K., we were a few minutes early, so we decide to take a walk around the block. That’s when the call came. I recognized the number this time.

Hello.

Hi, is this Terrence?

Yes it is.

This is ——- from Zip Car, we’re calling to let you know that the current driver with the Zip Car you have reserved is going to be late.

Do you know how late.

Oh, just 20-25 minutes.

Thank you.

And I hung up. I was defeated by this point. What could we do? So we sat on the curb, and waited impatiently, until finally it arrived. Stupid hipsters, no respect. Anyway, we were shortly on our way back to our place to pick up the gear. And shortly thereafter that, we were on our way to New Paltz. After a two hour uneventful drive, we arrived at the hotel, checked in, and both passed out. We made it.

The next morning began for us at 5:30 AM. We knew we had to pick up my bib number the next morning before the race, and wanted to leave some getting lost time. After the standard oatmeal, yogurt, etc, etc, breakfast, suiting up, lacing up, packing up, we were on our way to Mohonk Preserve. We arrived at approximately 7:30 or a little thereafter. Just in time to see the long course guys and gals head off. Coach Midge got the gear bookbag ready to go and with the bike put back together we set-off down the trail towards the direction the first wave just came from. There was no missing the transition area as we came around the corner. It was already stacked to the gills and buzzing. After checking in and getting my number, I wheeled Little Red down, racked her, set out my gear, and waited anxiously for the next hour in a beautiful, yet chilly 45 degrees.

About 30 minutes into our wait, the middle distance wave took off for their 5/30/5/30/5 bout with the hills of upstate New York. Once that happened, I knew it was 30 minutes until the short course wimps would be toeing the line. With one last final check of the transition area I was as ready as I was going to be. Around 8:20 the timing ankle bracelets handed out, and once that was strapped tight, it was time to toe the line. Once the last guy fell in, we were ready to, and after a short intro of the course, and the suffering we were in for, the moment I’d been obsessing about for a week came with all it’s fury. And, with that, we were charging ahead.

From the get-go, as it tends to be with short courses, it was pretty much all out. One of the guy’s I was sizing up, that looked dangerous, was immediately off the front. I was surprised at the pace, and kicked it up a notch to try to pass some of the mass before popping of the dirt fire road into some serious cross country grass action. I managed to get by a few, but in all honesty it didn’t really feel like much. Immediately the course and group took through some rolling green fields at a very aggressive clip. It wasn’t 2-3 minutes in before we were surprised with a bog/mud/marsh section that nearly sucked a foot of mine down. Directly after that, we entered the woods, and with a drainage ditch jump of a couple feet, the trail turned directly to technical, very steep (up), single track.

This is where it got interesting, and oh so difficult. It was pretty much the North Face Endurance Challenge all over again. I mean, this was some serious up, and it just kept going. The pace slowed a bit, but not much by any means as we drove up the first section. I felt pretty quickly winded, but totally under control. For the good part of the first couple miles it was pretty much up. The difference with this course though, and thankfully, is that outside of only one section that I can remember, the downs were not technical, and hence fast. I didn’t have to hold back like I did the week before, and was able to really charge through these sections. But just to give you a picture, there were downed trees, sections of successive planks laid down, roots, rocks, and a hell of a series of technical tight climbs. It was pretty intense, and pretty rad.

By the time we came through the first aid station, we had pretty much sectioned off into small groups of two or three. I could see two in front of me, not far, but knew catching them would burn too much, so I decided to pace from afar. That, and the guy behind me was doing a great job of pushing me, and by mile 3 or so, it was just he and I, and the two I could see ahead. That remained pretty much the same for the duration of the first 4 miles, and it wasn’t long before we could hear the cheers outside of the woods, and came barreling back down onto some grassy fields, for a approximately a couple tenths of a mile before the transition came into sight. I managed to put some space in between me and the guy behind me coming out of the woods. A little gap of 10-15 seconds that carried through into transition.

The two I saw in front of me were also in the process of transitioning when I came in, so I knew I’d have a chance to get them both on the bike leg. My transition was pretty smooth, and in under a minute I was off down the gravel road out of the preserve, and at the end a left onto the road that would start us on the first mile of the bike leg. The first mile, as it turns out, that was entirely up. The two in front of me on the trail, were now very close on the road. The first I came upon, I chatted with for a moment, who having done this 4 times before, informed me that this section wasn’t bad, i.e., this climb was ‘only a mile’. I motored by him pretty effortlessly, obviously not as strong on the bike, making my way towards trying to gobble up the second one. Unfortunately, I didn’t get her on the climb, and within a few moments of the apex, she was zipping away at a speed I didn’t have confidence to try to match. Definitely somewhere close to 50+, as I was in the 40’s. That and on this first bit of down, that same guy I passed, zipped around me as well in a full tucked position. That’s O.K. though, I’d get him on the next hill, and it wasn’t long before the road turned up again, and I did exactly that. This time though, he didn’t pass me again.

I remember now, that I turned around to get a gauge of what was behind, when I saw the guy that was pacing me in the woods. Good news though, is that was the last I saw of him for the day. After a quick right, and some down, we were into some serious climbing again, miles of it, and here is where I got a chance to gobble up a few more, including the gal from the run. This was a pretty serious climb, and I won’t soon forget the guy, whoever he was, diesel as hell, who motored by me at at least twice the speed in full aero position, going up!! That was the last I saw of him too, and I still have no idea who it was. That climb crested on some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve seen in New York to date. At the top, the trees cleared, and you could literally see out over the Catskills as far as the eye could see. I probably looked for a total of 5 seconds, but it really stuck in my mind. It was gorgeous.

That 5 second look, was quickly refocused the some serious declines, and tucking fully in, I managed to start to wheel in a few others. But for the remainder of the ride, I crept up a lone soul, and managed just to keep him about 50 feet out. I did wheel around him once, but he didn’t like that too much, and came back around shortly. I wasn’t too worried, was still feeling pretty strong, and didn’t want to blow anything I could use on the run. Together he and I pulled in another 1 or 2, but that was about it for the day.

And after coming around a bend on another long climb, I was utterly surprised we were back again with the preserve entrance in sight. The whole time on the bike leg, I was scared to look at the odometer, and focused just on the time I was out, knowing generally how long I expected it to take. What I didn’t expect, was to blow that away, and come in well ahead of what I had planned. That was just enough to put some charge in me, and just in time, as the gal I passed back at the start, had just now found my wheel again.

At the crest of the fire road, transition was in sight, and after a quick dismount I was running my bike to the rack. After another pretty smooth transition, I was off, and grabbing a water at the aid station was off running. My legs felt a little jelly at first, but within a matter of minutes I was feeling pretty good. Trouble is, that gal, came flying by me. I told her as she passed me yet again, that she’d probably ‘chicked me’ like 4 times today. After a laugh, she was gone, and there was nothing I could do to match it. Goodbye Mendy. Heading back down the grassy fields towards the woods, I came up on another guy. I started to recognize that the bib numbers were color coded for the different course lengths when I was on the bike leg. Passing many that had started the middle course 30 minutes earlier. Same deal here, and as I came up on him, he gave me a good boost:

You finishing up?

Yep, last lap.

Damn, you guys are fast. You’re lapping us.

That was pretty rad. And from here it was into the woods. This was pretty much a man against psyche run, as everyone I passed hear on out was from the middle course. I was running my own race now. What did surprise me though, was the guy that was off the front, far off the front, at the start of the race I was now passing in the woods. I knew immediately the guy had flatted. He looked pretty fatigued, I’m sure from trying to make up the time. Still incredibly impressive, to have flatted and still be where he was on the course. He and I yo-yoed a bit, until I finally pulled away. I kept a good clip these last few miles, passing quite a few which is always good for the morale. And with what seemed like a blink I was rolling into the finish to the cheering Michelle and race friends and family. Anyone who races know what this can do for you when you think you have nothing left; and it did. I kicked it up and flew across the line to the melodic ‘beep’. I was done. Couple guys, still hanging out at the finish gave me a pat, and a ‘good time’ confirmation. But I really wasn’t sure just how good it was.

It wasn’t long after that, the preliminary results were printed. To my absolute surprise, there my name was, exactly 6 spots down from the top. I was in shock. I had raced the best race of my life, at the most difficult race of my life. And as it would turn out that came with an age group first place. The first ever. I told Michelle that I thought I had gotten first in my age group, but fully wasn’t expecting anything, until I saw a table of ‘trophies’, with way more places than just overall. I’m so glad I asked at this point, because we were just about to leave after fueling for an hour. Turns out, there would be age group awards, and it also turns out, I was first.

What an awesome, emotional day. I won’t tell you about the 5 hours it took us to get home, but it was par for the course with the day we’d had just 24 hours prior. Let’s just leave it with this. I think this is all I want to remember…

At the shop:

Safe at home:

After a few hours of further dialing in the cockpit for comfort:

Insane. Insanely freaking fun. I really can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at a race. I mean, all races are fun, but I was actually giggling at times throughout the race. It was perfection on many levels both personally and organizationally. Gallivanting through the trees, running up tight singletrack rock inclines, and running down rock quarries at crazy declines, full of endless lose baby-size head rocks, roots galore, switchbacks, hopping downed trees, streams, mud, blood, and to top it off 20+ mph winds at temps in the low 40’s. I really can’t even begin to explain how technical this course was, nor will you ever get the full picture without taking it for a stroll to see absolutely none of this is an exaggeration. Here are a few stats scraped from the race website/literature as well:

Runners can expect technical terrain and rocky footing that cuts to the chase, with some trails heading steeply uphill rather than zig-zagging at a gentler grade. Descents end in wooded hollows before the next rapid climb ending with a breathtaking view. Make no mistake: this will be a tough test of off-road endurance.

Elevation: 4/5 Stars
Technical Terrain: 5/5 Stars
Overall Difficulty: 5/5 Stars
Scenery: 5/5 Stars

Total Elevation Gain: 2324 feet
Total Elevation Change: 4684 feet

Or, for the visual:

Yes it was hard, but what a blast, and I really couldn’t of hoped for anything better for my first true trail race. I can tell you one thing though: I’ll be back for more. With a culture synonymous to the mountain bikers that started me down this crazy path some 15+ years ago, it was nostalgic and a wicked charge, wrapped together in a big ‘Welcome Home’. This year is pretty locked down in terms of goals, but there is no doubt I’ll be back for more trail racing and endurance runs.

The weekend started off just a little crappy, and our planned excursion to Bear Mountain for riding/running first thing Saturday morning was scrapped due to some pretty threatening thunderstorms and showers. So we ended up kicking around here, taking a chance to dial in the new steed, an eventually leaving for the wedding upstate around 11:30AM. Didn’t take long to get up there, and in yet another serendipitous surprise the race start was a mere half mile from where we were staying in Bear Mountain. Not only that, but I got a chance to pick the brain of the 50K 50+ winner as we were walking to our car to go scout the course. Not sooner did I say to Michelle that ‘This guy looks like a runner’, i.e., shoes, etc., did I start picking his brain about the course. To sum it up, as just about every single other source has said: ‘It’s f-ing hard.’

We managed to pack it in last night around 10:30PM, and with little delay I was sound asleep. Strangely I wasn’t really at all nervous. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what to expect. I slept pretty well, and before we knew it, Michelle and I were huddled at the start shaking uncontrollably from the blustery weather. I had my compression shorts on, but refused to take off my tights. Too damn cold. After a few short words from the MAN Dean Karnazes, we were off at 8:05AM.

I pretty much booked it as much as I could to get to the front, as we spun it down some pavement before heading up into the hills. We didn’t have long to sort things out before passing became difficult. The first few miles were definitely a little tricky, but I soon found a good pace, and started gobbling up those in front of me one-by-one until I found the small group that I would largely remain with for the rest of the race. What stinks is that before I encountered this group, I was far ahead of them. Turns out the guy and I that were rotating pace, took a wrong turn and headed a good 2 minutes out of the way. Trouble is, you’re so focused on footing that it’s sometimes damn near impossible to sight the flags in the trees. Anyway, he even apologized (back to that culture thing). I think I responded only with a happy giggle. I was having too much fun.

About that point heading back to the trail though, I easily lost 10 places right away, 5+ which I got back for good, and some for the second time. I wasn’t all that worried. I did want a good showing, but this by no means was an A race for me, or really even a B. It’s all part of the big picture for August. Before going in, I had one goal, well two maybe: Don’t break my ankle and have a blast. Done and done.

My fitness was great, and my result I’m more than pleased with. I ended up rolling my ankle a good amount of times. A have a history to doing such, and once I did it once, my confidence was gone. I even took a nasty digger, and tore open my palm. I know for a fact, as with mountain biking, you can be the fittest guy out there, but if you don’t have the technical skills, forget it. Think Lance, think Travis Brown. Well that was me, i.e., fitness-wise I was toe to toe with every one out there. I looked forward to the climbs because I would blow by people, and there wasn’t one I didn’t at least do a rhythmic slow jog up while others walked. But dang, forget about the down!! People would blow by me, with cat-like footing. I’ll get there. I’ve had a taste, and definitely will be back for more.

After crossing the line, getting cleaned up by the medic, switching some clothes, and cranking the heat, we were on our way. What an awesome day, and an awesome weekend. Looking forward to our day off tomorrow.

Officially, out of 483 that started the day, I pulled in 34th. 32/352 gender, and 13/80 age group place. 9:12 pace/2:00 hours on the day. 9:12 (eek)!! Whole different ballgame out there in the woods. But remember, I got lost, and in reality per the GPS I ran close to 13.5 miles, at a 8:55 pace. So it’s probably somewhere in the middle. Pretty stoked with that, as had I not gotten lost I’m pretty confident I would’ve scored a top 10 age group.

What an awesome weekend from all perspectives, including great weather, company, food, and ice cream. We headed up Friday evening, and after a fairly uneventful drive out of the city, packed it in shortly after unloading at the Labbe’s household around 10:30PM or so. My plan for Saturday was to do the entirety of the ride that I wussed out on a few weeks back, i.e., from Bethany to Quassy, ride the Rev3 course, and ride back. Somewhere in the range of 98 miles was the plan for the day. 98 miles in Connecticut hill country mind you.

Having my cue sheet still handy (but knowing a little over half of the route already), nutrition dialed in, and beautiful weather, I set off around 7:30AM the following morning. Arm warmers were all that was needed, and as the day climbed into the 80’s, even those found themselves rolled up and put away shortly after heading out. The ride from Bethany was still pretty fresh in my head, and for the most part dialed in with little need to reference any directions. Approximately 20 miles put me at the start of the Rev3 course, which today I had every intention of finishing.

I was still feeling pretty fresh when I started the course, although the heat was creeping up pretty quickly. It was just a little too early to be so hot, and without any acclimatization time it seems this year, it only felt hotter. I soon found my way onto new roads as I continued past my previous turn around point. I’d like to point out, that albeit this is reading very easily, this ride was a suffer-fest. I wish I could recollect exactly where the toughest of the hills were, and I probably could if I took the time, however I think the more appropriate thing to note here is that it’s all hills. I do remember route 254 heading north to be a particularly long climb, so I’ll make a physical and mental reminder for that one.

The turnaround point just south of Litchfield is where I got somewhat lost. Thus, I really didn’t get to complete the entire course as it turns out when I retraced my steps and mapped it this morning. However, I got more than an adequate taste, and have concluded that it will be a tough, tough day, which has set a little natural apprehension about what lies ahead. Although by the same token, I absolutely can’t wait and can’t continue to stress enough, even while suffering, I never regret it for a moment. I love riding up there with endless roads to explore off the beaten path, vineyards, farms galore, etc. Its rural America at it’s best. So while everything may hurt, at least I’ve had the scenery to soak up, no traffic, and rarely another cyclist.

I really love cycling again. Thank you Connecticut, and despite all your damn hills, I love you too.

The day wrapped, with me rolling into the driveway, as Jason put it, going so slow that I could’ve tipped over, at approximately 94 miles and over 6,300 feet of climbing. I lost the route somewhere, but got a good long day in hot, hot weather. Excellent practice, but I still had one more equally tough day to go.

After stuffing my face continually for the remainder of the day, topping it all off with some amazing homemade ice cream, we called it a night after a quick route check and cue sheet for the following day. That next morning, Sunday, shaped up to be an amazing but even warmer one. We started the day at Lake Waramaug for my first open water swim with the new wetsuit. Upon arriving at the lake around 7:45AM accompanied by two very gracious sisters to keep me company, we quickly found our original plans awash. Hordes of people, were packing into the state park area of the lake for a crew meet, which also happened to be the original place planned for me to swim from. Alls well that ends well, as shortly thereafter we agreed upon another location, and after suiting up, I began the first leg of my brick around quarter to 9AM.

The wetsuit is pretty amazing. I felt like I could swim all day in that thing; it certainly makes for less effort. However, the initial shock of the cold water wasn’t something I was expecting, and for a short time it altered/strained my breathing until I settled in and warmed up a bit. I continued fairly close to the shoreline at an aerobic clip for 35 minutes thoroughly enjoying myself. Upon exiting I suited up, this time in cycling attire, said my good-bye and thank you (!) and set-off on the planned route of the day for a total of 60 miles finishing back in Bethany.

I found some amazing hills that day. Big surprise right? Turns out the route directly back to Bethany to the south wasn’t quite the amount of mileage I needed for the day, so I first headed north. I apologize for keep coming back to this point, but there was no shortage of inclines. Even though as a whole the ride would be easier today, with only approximately 3,500 feet of climbing, it did not disappoint. Further good news came with the realization that even after yesterday my legs still felt O.K. O.K. enough that is for a steady, but not too crazy clip.

Sunday climbed well into the 80’s, and for anyone who rides a bike, knows quite well the heat radiating off the pavement certainly cranks it up even a few more notches. I was glad for a change of pace, as my last two long rides up in Connecticut had been on the Quassy course or en route. I started of around Waramaug, heading back towards the direction of the state park entrance where I caught of glimpse of the crew teams now in the water, toeing the line.

Almost immediately I headed up a pretty serious climb as I popped off northwest of the lake. What was interesting is that shortly thereafter as I turned on to the very appropriately named ‘Brick’ School road, I entered my first true dead area with no cell phone coverage. Pretty amazing. It happened sporadically throughout the day north of the lake, and if I could digress for a moment, it dawned on me that it had been years since that happened. It could only make me smile however when I soon realized how attached I had become to the maps to help pinpoint myself should I miss a turn. Ross and I never did that! If getting lost meant adding miles, or finding awesome new stretches of road, how could you really call that getting lost? Funny how technology can make you second-guess yourself. That same bit of technology did however, despite no cell coverage, allowed for this very cool picture. Guess you can put two and two together on why those Connecticut old-heads named it Brick School road. That’s 1798.

The conclusion of the ride, despite my best efforts to skip a road of serious inclines, only took me on one of even more serious inclines. I guess that’s what I get for trying to wuss out. But know this Blackberry road, you and I will do battle again. I ended the day on my way back up Miller road at a little over 60 miles, and this time it wasn’t at tip-over speeds. After parking, dismounting, and drinking copious amounts of water that was left for me on the front entry way (I stupidly underestimated water consumption today, and got an emergency txt in that requested such. Thanks guys!), I laced up, changed tops, and was off on a planned 5 mile route that Melissa had printed out for me.

The legs were fine, but wow the heat was wearing on me. It did reach high 80’s that day, and knowing this is the best type of practice for Kentucky, I took off down the driveway. What is really cool, is that I’m truly learning the science of adjusting and regulating pace in different scenarios. Sunday was definitely one of those scenarios, and after two tough days, a hilly run, and a very hot start around 12:45PM, I knew I would have to slow things down. That being said, the run actually turned out to be fine. I slowed it down to an 8-8:15 pace, and cruised comfortably (as comfortably as I could) through a little over 5 miles.

And that was a wrap.

Lastly, I’d like to take just a moment to say thanks for all help everyone. I don’t say it enough. I couldn’t do this for a second without you. I mean that. It can be a selfish pursuit when it comes right down to it, so I appreciate all the support, and all the forms it takes…just like the title and parting photo, courtesy of Labbe & Labbe.

Last week, despite my best efforts for this continuation, was incredibly busy. A slow/recovery week it was, but Michelle and I had my Mom and aunts in for the majority of it for a lovely visit. I am however not sure if I got my 10 hours of sleep; not that I couldn’t have, just don’t think my body will allow my to sleep at all past 7 anymore. 7 is the new 10.

Anyway anyway, let’s get to it. Going two weeks back now to 4/10, for what was the start of my first back-to-back long weeks. Something I was a little nervous, but equally excited to get under way. These type of training weekends were to set the stage for months to come, and was anxious to see how far I’ve come. That Saturday took us up to the country retreat courtesy of Melissa and Jay (can’t thank you enough) in Bethany, CT for some serious riding. Truthfully, I hadn’t a clue just how serious the riding would be. I had every intent to do some recon on the Rev3 Quassy bike course, leaving directly that morning from the Labbe homestead, heading north. I mapped it the previous night, for a grand total of a very realistic 95 miles, shooting for a 6 hour spin knowing ‘some hills’ were in store. HA! That was a grand understatement…

Connecticut owns me.

The riding was amazing, just absolutely beautiful. What a treat it is to go for a ride for 4-5 hours and not see another soul (cycling) along the way. It’s a wonderful reminder that the only reason I’ve become disenchanted with cycling these past few years is because of geographical locale. (Luckily, we’ll remedy that sometime soon.)

Connecticut is such a beautiful place. That same night before the ride, I made a cue sheet so I wouldn’t get too lost along the way. Although, I seem to remember some of the best rides I’ve ever had involved getting lost. Then again that probably had something to do with the company as well. This day however, cue sheet in hand, I set out on a fairly brisk morning in the low 50’s, around 9AM. How quickly reality came crashing in as not two miles into the ride I was heading up the first series of climbs of the day (still excited at this point). Didn’t feel so brisk out anymore after that climb, which immediately set the tone for the day.

I rode some beautiful country roads, and some crazy-town hills for all of 70 miles. Recon on Quassy did eventually happen, but the 95 mile ride was cut fairly short as I worried about saving some in the tank for first brick coming the next day. Before starting Rev3 course, I took a moment to survey the park lake, which happened to be open, envisioning race day excitement not more than 8 weeks away. As I started the course after leaving the park, I immediately realized everything I heard was true, i.e., it will be a tough day. I was hoping the 20 miles or so up to the start of the course from Bethany was some alter-universe-type anomaly, where near every street name I came upon ended with ‘Hill’, and surely didn’t disappoint in delivering on that promise. However, that was not the case, as Quassy proved to be just as demoralizing.

In a good way of course. Hell, just being out of NYC is a day worth shouting about. I eventually cut the course short, but not before seeing a few like-minded tri-geeks out there doing the same. The ride back to Bethany, proved to be just as lovely, and the wind was much more forgiving heading south (which can be a bugger in it’s own right). I must say, again, it’s beautiful country up there. Cut the prescribed 6 hour ride to 4.5, and called it a day with an awesome dinner concocted by the power of 2.

Inaugural Brick.

After making our way back to the city that night from the highlands of Connecticut, we fueled up at our favorite local Tex-Mex joint and called it a night. I had some anxiety about the next day, as it had been sometime since I had bricked anything (approximately 10 years), and never the three together. Thus, food in belly, sleep was the next item on tap.

Sunday started at 6:30AM with my usual power-slam breakfast of oatmeal, raisins, walnuts, bananas, and Greek yogurt. I would have gladly started the day much earlier, but the swim as it turns has dictated otherwise, with the gym not opening its doors on the weekend to practically noon!! Well, 8AM really, and in my warped perception of time, equally midday. Good weather was in the forcast, I believe with temperatures reaching the low 70’s, which would surely make things all the better. So I hoped.

The brick started officially somewhere around quarter to 8AM when I found myself pedaling to the gym for an on time 2000 swim start to the day. Nothing too exciting to report and after a smooth 30 minutes, I popped out immediately and made my way to the locker for a quick change and pedal home for the commuter to trusty steed bike swap.

After a nutrition check for a long day, essentials in jersey pockets and onboard bottles, I headed out the door shortly after 9AM. All and all, despite being somewhat of a mind-numbing repeat ride, I had a really good day on the bike. I did however go just a little too hard I believe (more on that later), but the sun was shining and it was hard not to be just a little amped. That day’s ride took me by way of Nyack, NY up 9W. Pretty standard for these parts, but I opened it up in a few places to kill the boredom. On that note, strangely my legs felt just fine from the killer hills the day before. That in itself was a welcome reassurance of the four months of base paying off.

I activated Michelle when back in Brooklyn for the planned bike/shoe swap. This pretty much entailed a ‘The Eagle has landed’ conversation as we reconfirmed our planned meeting location in Prospect Park. We met shortly thereafter, and after hopping off my bike, lacing up, changing to a singlet, a big sweaty kiss on the cheek, and a self-assuring ‘This is fine’ spoken aloud, I took my first steps…a very gelatinous first few steps. That was my indication that I went just a little harder than I was aiming to. I did however find my pace after approximately a mile or so – and kicked it over with a comfortable 45 minute 5 miler.

That was it. I did it! Overall I felt a little tired, but not trashed. About a 7 hour day in total.

Fuzzbusted.

So, I’m going to skip the details largely of brick part two, as in day-long format the two are identical. Rather in all the natural anticipation I’ll get right to the heart of the matter, i.e., the explanation of the title. Funny thing is, in the week and a half since that happened most of you have already heard it’s explanation. Ah well, here it is again, documented for history…

So coming into this week, I had a new approach for the ride after some real world experience and some sage advice from John. Basically that entailed nothing more than pacing myself. I’m quickly finding out how much of this is about just that. It’s a long day out there, and it’s the combo that counts, i.e., you can’t go out and kill yourself on the ride, and blow up on the run. It’s a fine line refined only by experience.

So again, 9W was the plan of the day. However I had decided to switch it up a bit with a ride along the Palisades Interstate Park for a change of scenery. What I didn’t know was that the apparently areas of this beautiful stretch are off–limits for bicycles. Really? In a park? On a road traveled by cars?

So how did this occur to me? Well I was heading up a really nice long climb in said park when I happened upon not one, not two, but three(!), yes a grand total of three NJ police cars. Your (NJ) tax dollars hard at work! In all seriousness, as I made my way up to the blockade, reminiscent of international border security, cop A entered the scene by extending his arm into a very forceful stop signal followed by a verbal ‘Halt’. Yes, sadly, I’m being honest. Some of the standard ‘Do you know why I’m stopping you?’, and ‘Do you have your ID?’ came shortly thereafter. ‘No’ to the first, ‘Yes’ to the latter. So as cop A disappears to a car to check-up on me, another cop, we’ll call him cop B starts chatting me up:

‘Are you from the city?’

‘Yes, Brooklyn’, as I remember the brim of my Brooklyn cycling cap plainly visible saying just that extending from under my helmet.

‘So dey don’t let yous guys ride in central park?’

’90 miles get’s pretty boring really quickly.’

Shortly thereafter cop A returns to lecture me on this road being prohibited for this or that reason, with a sign being somewhere that I must have missed, and I had to walk my bike for the remainder of the hill up to 9W. After which, he mentioned in passing to cop B that he was done for the day after handing me a very appropriate 50 dollar fine.

Lovely. Suppose that was bound to happen. Just glad it took 15 years, however I really wish it could’ve happened under different circumstances. Like how about all those times when I was breaking the speed limit? Really, wouldn’t that be rad?

‘Yeah I got a speeding ticket yesterday.’

‘Really, I thought you didn’t own a car.’

‘I don’t.’

That’s it. My two cents. For me, as much as anyone reading.

Part II of Fuzzbusted coming soon, I promise. But I want 10 hour of sleep first.