Dragons and Witches: Weekend Racing (9/7 - 9/8/19)

Top: Living Root Dragon Boat Club at Pawtucket
Bottom: Somerville Road Runners at Salem

September 7, 2019: Outside Providence, Rhode Island Dragon Boat Festival

Despite causing issues because I gave Emily the wrong phone number, Emily, Casey, Harshil and I were able to get to Pawtucket before the race.

“My brother's in a wheel chair because of a freak accident as a kid. One day we were playing touch football and he fell off the roof.”

This was only my third dragon boat festival.  The second one involved a freak accident where Cheddar boat fell into the Merrimack River.  But the first one was actually this very race, 11 years ago.

While that time I had probably gone to like six practices, now I've been at it for nearly four months.  But the big issue is that these are different types of boats; Pawtucket, (to quote myself) they are:

... Taiwanese boats. These boats are considerable larger and harder to steer. They were called “barges” by Scott. The paddles are massive, like swinging a softball bat after practicing with a t-ball model... the massive size of the boats made it as much, if not more effort.

"What's a prep school?" "It's to prepare you for not getting your neck broke by me." 

Some teams took the prep time to take out one of the boats and practice with the cricket bat paddles.  For the most part we all tried to stay warm on this windy cool morning.

Taiwanese Dragon Boat

"Oh, you're gonna throw the fuckin' daht?"

Our first heat went off at 10:12.  Quinn made sure we didn't burn out with the heavy boats and short paddles.  The 1:24 was good enough for 11th of the 33 teams.  But we were able to find the wind and currents and - once the race started - stay in a straight line, like a daht.

"Okay, Satchmo why don't you play us a few notes?"

Each team had to qualify on the 23 seat "big boat" and the 15 seat "small boat."  I wasn't assigned to the small boat.  So I got the chance to watch as they ran our second heat.  Once again looking good - with Jess in her first drumming ... playing a few notes.  Out of the water, we had moved on into 13th overall and into the E Final.

Living Root Small Boat Qualifier

 "Brown University? We got one of those in Providence."

Regardless, what Matt termed the "real race of the day" was next.  While a few of us got Living Root colored bolts on our faces, Andrew and Julien prepped for the dumpling eating contest.  On the line was free airfare to Taiwan.

Julien and Andrew vs. Dumplings

In two minutes, Julien ate an impressive 30 dumplings.  He was outdone by Andrew's 41.  But sadly both were out done by some big guy named Eric whose 55(!) dumplings won him tickets from JFK to Chiang Kai-Shek Airport.

"You hit a parked cop car?"

The last race was the E finals.  Frist place went home with the much coveted 13th place overall.  We saved our best for last.  Our start was good, we had very little settle in the middle and then crushed the finish.  I watched the boat to our right disappear from my peripheral vision as we pulled in at a 1:18.

Living Root's Final Race.
We're in the middle taking the big lead!
photo by: Matt Scotti

September 8, 2019: The Witch City, Salem Road Race

Urvi and I caught the 8:30 train out of North Station, along with a large number of others. Getting our numbers was a bit of a shitshow with thousands of people packed into a little park area.  But, slowly it cleared up.

Because of the aforementioned shitshow, the race started late - at 10:15.  But on the warm day (the winds and coolness of Saturday gone), it was actually pleasant.

Urvi and I in Salem

Miles 1-2: The Crucible by Arthur Miller

The first mile, I went like a bat outta hell.  For reasons unknown to me, I decided to run ahead of Dominic from the start.  We flew down the narrow Derby Street, through the National Historic Park.  That first mile was like when you read The Crucible in High School after reading Shakespeare or Tennyson - fast and liberating with all the hysteria of Salem 1692.

We hit the second mile and it was like reading The Crucible in your college literature class.  First you say, "oh, I love this play" and then the professor explains McCarthyism to you.  blerg.  The fast liberating read becomes a bit more challenging.  Tying the hills together without burning out was like relating the play to things you only really knew as black and white newsreels.

Mile 1 was a decent 7:04; Mile 2 was a less decent 7:38.

Miles 3-4: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

By the start of the third mile, I knew my first race since Chicago wouldn't be any great American piece of literature like Huckleberry Finn or anything.  Instead it would be something really dull - you know like The Scarlet Letter.  Indeed, I tried to push through the first part of mile 3 like something good was going to happen (like the the first chapters of the novel); but nothing interesting every did (like the novel).  The 7:24 and 7:38 of this section told me I wasn't going to be taking the world by storm or anything.

Mile 5: The Scarlet Letter (1995)

The fifth mile so my desire to put together anything that was any good wane - like the 1995 film adaption of The Scarlet Letter.

I picture the production meeting now: Can we make this book any more boring?  Sure let's put wooden, one dimensional actress Demi Moore in the lead.  Every one loved her in Ghost!

That's pretty much what went through my head as everyone started passing me when my pace slowed to 8:12.

Mile 6: The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne

With a little more than a mile to go, I tried.  I really tried to get the pace down again.  I tried to recreate the fast image of myself, like Hawthorne tried to write an English gothic novel.  Neither of us did too well.  But, at least it was better than the previous miles...

Urvi in front of The House of the Seven Gables - there was a wedding going on inside. 
(Hopefully not haunted by the previous ones.)

As we made it back up to Congress Street, we passed the mile 6 marker and I put in everything I had left.  My finish was actually pretty strong; I ran the last quarter at a 6:15 pace.  So there is something there, but it's mostly a mirage right now.

The after-party at Notch allowed me to enjoy my double medal weekend

Other Scenes from Salem

aboard the Friendship

Urvi fires a Quaker Cannon on the Friendship

Salem Customs House

Urvi looking out over Salem Harbor

Aboard the Salem Ferry back to Boston

Shenanigans in the Springs: Weekend Wedding in Saratoga (8/30 - 9/2/19)

Looking out over the Saratoga National Historic Park

Friday, August 30 - National Battlefield

National Battlefield Map

On Friday, Urvi and I arrived early and toured the National Battlefield.

The Battle of Saratoga is really three separate incidents.  In the Summer of 1777, a British Column led by General Burgoyne marched south from Canada with the intent of splitting the radical New England colonies from the less radical rest of the United States.  The idea was to divide and crush New England while welcoming the Southern Colonies, who were less interested in independence back into the fold.

Moving South, Burgoyne took Lake Champlain and Fort Ticonderoga.  The American general, Philip Schuyler was relieved of command and General Gates took his place.  Gates followed Schuyler's plan of fortifying the Brmis Heights along the Hudson River.  This cut off the Albany Road to the advancing British and would have required they: a) run the gauntlet along the river under heavy cannon fire; b) traverse through the wooded hills to the west of the American position; or, c) attack the Americans on their high ground.

Urvi mans one of the cannon at Bemis Heights

Burgoyne chose a bit from a) and a bit from c).

First Battle of Saratoga, September 19, 1777

On September 19, 1777 Burgoyne moved his troops into position to attack the American position from the West while he sent the Hessian mercenaries and the baggage to run the gauntlet to the East of the American position. These attacks were met by resistance at Freeman Farm by Generals Poor, Learned and Benedict Arnold (Yes that Benedict Arnold).  The British were driven back to their camp along the Hudson.

Apparently Gates had some sort of issue with Arnold and didn't include him in his official report.  Arnold and Gates had a huge argument and Arnold was relieved of command.

Me at a replica of Gates' headquarters

The two armies stopped and increased the defenses of their positions.  Burgoyne waited for General Clinton to march up form New York City while Gates awaited General Lincoln who had just made some attempted assaults on Fort Ticonderoga.

British cannon guarding the camp next to the Hudson

By October, it didn't seem as Clinton was coming (he wasn't).  On October 7, Burgoyne sent some lightly armed men for reconnaissance and foraging.

Second Battle of Saratoga, October 7, 1777

These troops met the Americans who drove them back.  Then Arnold entered the fray.  (There is dispute whether this was with or without the blessing of General Gates.)  Either way, Arnold led the charge on Breymann Redoubt and helped send the British Army into retreat.  Arnold was wounded in the leg - and again was not fully recognized by Gates.

The unnamed "Boot Monument" that celebrates the actions of Benedict Arnold at Saratoga without mentioning him by name

After travelling the National Battlefield, we checked into our Airbnb and awaited the others.  We headed out for dinner at Druthers' Brewery.  I had a flight of 6 tasters.  I made sure I got the two I wanted but then allowed the bartender to give me his next four favorites: Summer Series NEIPA, Black Lager, Dog Days Lager, Brevity Wit, Against the Grain Hefeweizen, and French Sour.

It's a cool place with good beer.  I wouldn't make a special trip to it; but, if you're in Saratoga it is worth the stop.

Flight at Druthers

Saturday, August 31 - Saratoga Race Track

Scott, C-A, Melissa and Nichole, getting their hats on

Nichole and I spent the morning on a nice 10 mile run that I kept sending us the wrong way on.  And then I recovered with some of Scott's Peanut Butter Chocolate Stout from Madison Brewery...

But, the big attraction of the day was 3 hours at the race track. After some confusion with our Uber driver (I ended up paying the guy cash), Urvi, Nichole, Brian and I met up with the rest in the picnic area on the outside.  It was a nice mix.  Scott commented that he liked just having a picnic area and eating and drinking.  He didn't even need to gamble.

"Down the Stretch They Come"
We all lost money in this race.  The only reason Scott and Brian's horse didn't come in last was that he made a surge to pass mine at the end of the 7 furlong race.

I, of course, was going for the experience.  If I was going to be at a horse track, I was going to bet the ponies.  I went down there with my hat caved in and went back home with a pocket fulla tin. While the first race I doubled my money, I didn't have the same luck again.  But, outside of following Kevin's advice to box three horses in an exacta (there's $12 I'll never see again), didn't lose big.  Went in with $70 and after the betting and chicken fingers and some perfectly fine local DIPA, I walked out with $29. 

We all finished up and split up either to the rehearsal dinner or a group of us went to Brook Tavern for dinner.

Sunday September 1 - Wedding Day

Running to Victory

Saratoga Monument - on Brian's and my 10 miler

Brian and I headed out early for a 10 mile run.  This time I knew where I had gone wrong during the run with his fiance the morning before.  And, in a much more successful trip, we found the victory site.

As seen above on October 8th, 1777 Burgoyne and the British troops retreated from their position near what is now Stillwater.  They retreated North to some high ground.  The Americans surrounded and besieged them for 8 days. On October 17, Burgoyne agreed to the Convention of Saratoga. While Burgoyne declared it was only a temporary convention, it was really a surrender of his army, which he agreed would not fight on North America again.

Brian and ran to and up the Monument that is near the surrender site.

View from the top of the Monument

We then headed South through the Victory Woods and back to our airbnb.

Victory Woods trail

Yaking the Fish

Map of our out and back kayak upon Fish Creek

After I returned from my run, Urvi and I went down to the Kayak Shak at the end of the road.  We rented a double kayak and took it out and back upon the lovely Fish Creek.

We usually kayak several times a summer.  But this year - between keep up with her new job and my dragon boating, it hasn't worked out.  So a nice kayak on the pretty creek was just what the doctor ordered for the early afternoon before Melissa and Kevin's wedding.

We finished off with lunch from Beer Wine Pizza where I had a Fiddlehead and returned home to get ready.

The Wedding

In a lovely ceremony, Kevin and Melissa tied the knot.  Nichole handled the ceremony very well.

The ceremony was out on the patio of the Saratoga National Golf Course.  Meanwhile the cocktail hour was up on the veranda and the reception was in the Ballroom on the second floor.

The first dance was a lively mix of a slow dance and a few pop tunes.  The picture I took was so good that I decided not to take any more the rest of the night.

Melissa and Kevin's first dance

Everything was perfect.  Each of the tables was named for a place that they had gone together and loved.  (Urvi and I were with the Breiders and Saba-Shers at table "Seattle"). There was a craft brew only station (and a regular bar but I never went there).  And the Chateaubriand was ridiculous good.

The SRR boys and I get a picture with the Bride

Monday, September 2nd - the Notorious MVB

Urvi and I drove back through a monsoon.  We stopped in Old Kinderhook at a diner and stopped t see Lindenwald, the homestead of our 8th President - "the Red Fox of Kinderhook" - Martin van Buren.

Lindenwald at the Martin van Buren Historic Site

- - - 

Yes, Scott, we all like Shenanigans 

Biking Among Unknown Men: The Rock to P-Town (6/22/19)

Cape Cod National Seashore, Wellfleet

Ride: Plymouth to Provincetown

Distance: 90 miles (98 for the day)

Sights: Plymouth Rock, Cape Cod Canal, Cape Cod National Seashore

Pivo Index: 4

I Biked Among Unknown Men

I biked among unknown men, 

In lands beside the sea; 

New England! did I know till then 

What love I bore to thee. 

Originally, my goal had been to join CRW for the Cape In a Day Ride.  But, alas, I could ne’er get my shit together.  Instead, I chose to take the train from South Station down to Plymouth.  Then I would ride the 90-ish miles to Provincetown to catch the 7:30 ferry. Doing arithmetic on the train, I calculated I could average 10 mph with stops and still have plenty of time to make the ferry.  This need not to a speeding 6 hour century nor a long hard 10 hour brevets.  Instead it was much more a ramble.  I was leaving on a journey of which William Wordsworth would have been proud.

Wordsworth’s Romantism, born of the Enlightenment, praised being alone on journeys through nature and through the ruins of England’s non-Enlightened past.  The ruins of abbeys and castles were not symbols of gods and heroes, but wreckage of a different era to be reinterpreted by its current status as a piece of art here and now.   

Pulling into Plymouth’s platform-amidst a-parking-lot type station, I bid farewell to another cyclist who was doing some miles through Miles Standish State Park.  Like all trips to Plymouth, my first stop was Plymouth Rock at mile 2.5. Per the park ranger, Plymouth Rock is the smallest Massachusetts State Park (20’ x 20’) and the most visited (1.3 MILLION people a year).

Plymouth Rock, Plymouth

I left the Rock and started heading South toward the Sagamore Bridge.  Only 17 miles in, I found the Sagamore, in all its horrifying glory.  A Depression era infrastructure project, the Sagamore Bridge at 200 feet above the Cape Cod Canal.  There is no place to ride your bike except the sidewalk.  But that isn’t divided from the road by anything.  So, it’s a gentle reminder of either plummeting hundreds of feet to your death in the Canal or falling only 2 feet into the roadway to get your cranium smashed by traffic going 50mph.

Sagamore Bridge, Cape Cod

Lines Composed High Above the Cape Cod Canal
One year has passed; one summer, with the length

Of one long winter! And again I hear

These waters, canal streaming from bay to sea.

With the loud roadway clamor, once again

Do I behold the steep and lofty spans,

That does on this PWA scene impress.

The scaffolding of cantilevers braces taut

To hold the cars and trucks escaping

The rat race and ride to coasts of summer idylls.

One year ago I joined the crew as we rode from Union Station, Providence to Macmillan Wharf, Provincetown.  The lovely #beattheferry ride took us 135 miles through two states and the length of the Cape.  Here I was again, crossing the Canal.  In pure fear and riding by myself, I walked over the canal.  Both the CRW route and Bike Route 1, ride away from Route 6 to state 6A. But eventually you are carried back under the big road and onto the 6A “Service Road”.  The Service Road is a quiet and rolly bit of road whilst everyone else drives as quickly as they can toward the outer cape.  The motorcycles sharing the same desire for open carless road were the only companions.

Into Hyannis, I made my first stop at Cape Cod Beer for a flight-ish thing and a lobster roll.

Elegiac Stanzas Suggested by the tastings from Cape Cod Beer

First four-ounce pour was Cranberry Harvest

Refreshing and fruity but not too sweet,

Followed next by tasting Cape Cod Porter

A balanced dark as e’er you should meet.

A black again, R&R Tropical

New take upon someone’s isle extra stout,

Ahead on now to Cape Cod Red, of which

Was not there best – by this I do not doubt.

An imperial IPA was next

And the Bitter End of the beery stroll

Matched perfectly with my ride’s only meal -

A delicious buttery lobster roll

Lobster Roll, Cape Cod Beer, Hyannis

The next section took me off CRW’s route.  In Yarmouth, I headed south to hop upon the Cape Cod Rail Trail.  Rail Trails are both a wonderful and dreadful thing for cyclists.  The provide off road transportation where you don’t have to fight with cars and lights, etc.  However, for many cyclists looking to ride fast, they can be horrible.  They are narrow and congested and everyone from kids to dogs to adults on rented bikes swing and swerve about.  I personally love them and ride them whenever and wherever I can.  But, I get that most times it’s faster to ride on the road.

Cape Cod Rail Trail

The Rail-to-Trail movement is similar to the Romantic movement.  What if we took away the previous eras subjugation to the Surburban Robert Moses driven gods of gasoline and let people move about their community without having to create emissions?  And what if we did it upon the ruins of the first Industrial Revolution, the now rejected and forgotten railroads?  Indeed, upon my bike I can start like Whitman walking the city streets and bathing the in theurban mists; but then escape like Wordsworth to “come among these hills.”

Devil's Purse, Dennis

My first stop along the Cape Cod Rail Trail was Devil’s Purse in Dennis.  I had hoped to get another snack, but there was little to be had.  Yet, they did have a very good Stonehorse Citra IPA – hazy and Grapefruity. 

The next stop was at mile 57, the Hog Island Brewery.  The plan was to have a nice relaxed lunch while I tried a flight of their beers.  Well, between the crappy beer, the rude staff and the fact that the kitchen apparently closes at 3:12 in the afternoon, it was great! 

The bartender at the brewery bar was not rude.  She was actually very nice; she made sure that I got the Far Out Stout because it was the “best” one they had.  (And by “best” she meant only thing of the beers that anyone should actually pay for.)

Hog Island Brewery, Orleans

I took my paddle of middling pale ales to a table and sat down.  The people across from me had a little pager thing and it soon buzzed and lit up.  They went to the full bar that wasn’t the brewery and picked up food.  It smelled delicious.  The people handed me their menu and I perused it.  I figured some fatty fries and chicken tenders would be a good meal here.  So I went up to the full bar, menu in hand.

I got the bartender and looking at the menu I said: “Hey could I get…”

She cut me off angrily with, “THE KITCHEN’S CLOSED!”

Of course, it’s 3:12 on a Saturday and the lawn area is packed.  Why would you want to sell all those people food, or be nice to people who might buy more beverages from you? I always forget how weird the Cape is: a tourism based economy where they make sure to let the tourist know they are unwanted. 

Having no food at mile 57 is bad; but, what’s worse is people, who had managed to order food before that magic 3:12 cutoff time, were still getting food and I was getting hungrier and hungrier.

100 Miles from Boston

I left there in a fantastic mood and so happy I had given them my money…. My next stop was a deli after the trail at mile 68.  It apparently didn’t take cards – cash or check only (check?). Fortunately they had an ATM; unfortunately said ATM had no cash in it. Awesome…


“Miles to go before I eat…”

Estuaries

But it’s now just past 4:30 and I only had about 20 something miles left.  I figured I could average around 14 mph and then pull into P-Town by 6, then get a burger at the Post Office. But alas, this was not to be.  With limited energy from limited food, the hills of Wellfleet and Truro were just too much.*  I could never get up any speed. 

But I had to remove myself from such worries as food and carry on enjoying the seascapes.  The ride weaves in and out of the National Seashore.  The salty smell of the breeze is that thing that carries people to water.  The roads had the windswept sands encroaching upon the edges of the black top.  I made sure to stop and enjoy the view and the dunes.  If I wasn’t going to refresh with food, I would with the sea.

Address to the Ocean
'How long will ye round me be roaring', 
Once terrible waves of the sea? 
While I on my bike ride exploring 
The sweet smells of ocean spray on me. 

By Mile 85, the hills had been made low and the rough places plain.  I was riding the long stretch that strands like a necklace along the bayside of Truro.  Little cabins and private beaches carry touch each other one after the other.  It was now 6:00.  I had no chance to get a burger.  I stopped at a convenience store that did take cards.  I got gummy bears, Cape Cod chips and a Dr. Pepper. Sitting on the bench outside, I refueled enough to carry me into town.  

Truro

I pulled in at 6:45. I still stopped at the Post Office and got a Cape Cod IPA, before hoping the Boston Ferry, left to “enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide.”

I WanderedLonely As a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

~ William Wordsworth

*- I later (two days later) determined that I also had a slow leak in my back tire.  I’m certain this was also sapping energy but I just didn’t know it.

It's Five O'clock Pils Somewhere: Houston Half Marathon (1/14/18)

Finishing up my race and my beer

Race: Houston Half Marathon

Location: Houston, TX

Goal Time: 1:38:30

Actual Time: 1:43:30

Right after Mile 11, the Saint Arnold Brewery had set up a tent on the left side of the road and were handing out Dixie cups of their clean and slightly hoppy Five O’ClockPils.  Two things went through my head as I passed them: 1) when I went to the brewery on Friday, I had not tried the Pils, and 2) It’s not like I’m going to win or even PR this race.  To quote AlanJackson: “At a moment like this I can't help but wonder, / What would Jimmy Buffett do?”

I had already adjusted any plan away from running “fast.”  Instead, I planned to run at goal marathon pace (~7:30/mile) which would calculate out to around a 3:17 marathon (1:38:30 for the half).  Of course, Burns pointed out plans go “aft agley.”  

The sun is not hot, that clock is moving fast,

But my speed climbs.

This race passes like molasses in July

But it’s wintertime.

7 months ago when I registered for the Houston Half Marathon, it seemed like a great idea.  I was recovered from the MaltaMarathon and knew that training could be replicated.  By the time of Houston, I would be 2 months past the NYC Marathon, and 5 or 6 weeks into Boston training. 

Then life happened.  One medical issue, one bad training cycle, two minor injuries later and one terrible NYC Marathon later and I was in heap of crap.  2017 thankfully ended.  I woke up January 1, 2018 with 15 weeks until the Boston Marathon and ready to go.  Unfortunately, I also woke up late – sleeping thru my first planned workout of the year.  Also I woke up 15 pounds heavier than my Marathon PR and 25 pounds heavier than my Boston Marathon PR.  I also woke up with virtually no running miles for the previous three weeks.  15 weeks til Boston could be worked out; 13 days til Houston could not.

Mile 8
Photo by Rod Azadan

The race actually started fine.  Easy first mile followed by building speed every 5k (as I would at a Marathon) worked well.  At mile 8, the full/half split where Emma and Rod were cheering, I was feeling good.  I hit the 15k mark just under 69 minutes. (Two minutes earlier, Molly Huddle had already finished and set the American Record.)

As far as marathon test/ early season evaluation, things were going great.  While I was probably behind where I had been preparing for Malta, I was ahead of where I thought I was for today. 

It’s only half past eight but I don’t care.

It’s five o’clock somewhere.

The vague gameplan had been to drop the pace at 5k, 10k, 15k and then try my best to break 7 min/miles after 20k.  If I continued the rest of my plan, I would probably have gotten in under the 1:38:30 (3:17:00) goal.  But, right after mile 11, I ran past the St Arnold’s tent. 

Running back downtown - 5 O'Clock Pils, in hand

I first just took the Dixie cup size beer.  Then, after finishing that, they offered me a can for the road.  I took it and ran the last two miles drinking a clean refreshing (if not thirst-quenching) pilsner.  It’s only 8:30 and I’m only at mile 11, but it’s five o’clock somewhere.

What time zone am I on? What mile am I at?

It doesn’t matter, it’s five o’clock somewhere.

EnU Shoutouts –

Robbie broke 3:05 in the full

Girl Jesse ran a 1:47 half

Lauren ran a 1:26 half

Medals:
Half Marathon, 5k (Saturday), Houston Double

We also enjoyed the rest of our weekend in Houston,

Lynn, from the Mars rover 2020 team, gave us a private tour of the Johnson Space Center on Friday:

Apollo Mission Control

Engines on the Saturn V rocket

Replica Shuttle with real Boeing 747

We went to three different local breweries:

8th Wonder:
Including actual Astrodome seats and AstroTurf on the walls

Saloon Door:
Operating the Crowler machine

St Arnold:
Collection of faux-Gothic paintings

 On the last day we went to Hermann Park and the Houston Zoo:

Watching kids feed the giraffes 

Playing a ball

Don't move Urvi, there's an elephant on your shoulder