Showing posts with label waterfalls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label waterfalls. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2016

Twice as Bright, Half as Long: October Races (10/22 - 10/30/16)

Hand-off between me and Erin: Cape Cod Relay
"The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long"*
~Lao Tzu


The two weeks after Bay State Marathon, I ran two races in two states.

Race #1:  Queen City Architecture Run
Location: Buffalo, NY
Distance: 3.5 Miles
Goal Time: 21:00
Actual Time: 22:14

We went to Buffalo for the wedding between Karen and TomBWarrior.  The morning of their wedding, Tim, Mark and I ran a race at the Big Ditch Brewing Company, around the corner from our hotel.

The first mile was reasonably fast and downhill to the lake. But, Tim and I took it too fast.  The first split was 5:40.  Both of us were in survival mode for pretty much the rest of the race.

But, when it was all said and done, I won my age group and Tim and Mark took 2nd and 3rd in theirs. **



Flight of beers from Big Ditch
The Hayburner IPA (and the Mac and Cheese) were well worth the trip.


Race #2: Cape Cod Marathon Relay
Location: Falmouth, MA
Distance: 26.2 Miles - team (6.13miles - me)
Goal Time: 39:00
Actual Time: 39:29

The next weekend a large group of us went down and ran the Cape Cod Marathon relay.  My SRR's Coed Open team.  My leg was the second one.  Still two weeks after my marathon, I was still burnt.  Then, as Melissa warned, my leg looked flat but was actually generally up hill for 6 miles.  I never found a groovy pace.  Fortunately, Kieran and Tim held off any challenges and we won our division! 



** - Also, we went to Niagara Falls!

Niagara Falls

From the Rainbow Bridge: Urvi, Roisin, Nat, Paola and me

Urvi and I waiting to get aboard the Hornblower



* - I think this might actually be affected by the inverse square law, so it'd be a fourth as long?


Monday, June 2, 2014

All the Way: 300K Brevet (5/31/14)

Town Line
TOP TRIP
Event: Boston 300K
Route: Bedford North through Ayer, Athol and Orange out to Northfield and then back around the Quabbin and through Sterling, Lancaster and Concord
Distance: 196 miles (225,) day
Goal Time: 17:00:00 (but anything under 20:00: would be fine)
Actual Time: 17:40:00

At mile 130 of the ride, after taking the left onto Rte 122, the next cue said: "6.9 Left onto West at blinking yellow light."  That meant just 7 miles on Rte 122.  Originally that seemed fine but I really was not ready for it.  7 miles of unrelenting gentle climb.  There had been steep hills earlier (I'm looking at you Cushing Street, Ashburnham). But this one didn't lend itself to my style of climbing: out of the saddle rocking back and forth.  No, this was sit down and go 8 mph for the next 52 minutes.

By the time I got up to the blinking yellow light, I felt like Gatsby glaring at Daisy Buchanan's single dock light.  (As an aside, typing this I just realized that the GREEN light was symbolic.  Did Gatsby think Green means Go with her?  A red light would have been totally different).  Anyways, the YELLOW light was as if Daisy Buchanan was declaring Caveat Emptor for the rest of the ride.  You might think this will be great but just you wait...

Some 145 miles and 14 hours earlier, I was sitting up in bed freaked out about the ride to come.  My last attempt at a 300k came in 2011 and could be best described at abject failure.  I failed in nearly every facet of randonneuring: Fitness, Training, Pacing, Nutrition, Mental Ability and Equipment. As my palms sweated and I just tried to wrap my head around attempting it again.  Fortunately it wasn't 3 weeks after I ran a marathon again....

I got myself out of bed and made it into the kitchen for coffee, cereal and pop-tarts.  My bag was packed; I said good bye to Urvi and bounded out the door for my bike.  I headed up Mass ave and toward Lexington/Bedford.  At 5 AM on a Saturday there was nobody on the roads.  I was able to test out my legs and fitness by throwing in some sprints.   After the dreaded "Did Not Finish" in 2011, I promised myself I would not attempt a 300k again until I thought I was more than ready.  I know it's a strain on others to put on this ride already and dropping out just causes more problems. So even at this late stage I was prepared to drop to 200k or DNS if I had to.  But, with the sprints I felt good; felt confident about the day to come.



After a security check and safety talk, I got my brevet card.  The ride started, but I made one last trip to the bathroom for a late start.  To solve my normal pacing problems (riding too damn fast, such as the CRW Century two weeks ago), I developed a strategy which I called the "Take It Easy" Strategy.  I kept telling myself: "Take it Easy, Take it Easy; don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy."  Too bad I hate the Eagles, Man:



"Take it easy" meant to not sprint nor try to race with people who were going faster than my plan (13-14 mph moving pace).  Also, if I was going downhill and either gaining speed or going over 20 mph, don't pedal. Instead I used them as fantastic portions to gain ground without trying. I figured the longer I could maintain easy riding the better I would be.  Randonnuering is not a race and my goal was to finish.

On this first section where I was using my Take It Easy strategy, I met up with another rider who was doing his first brevet and was doing the 200k option today.  While I had done more brevets than he, he was the far more experienced rider.  We generally agreed that the 300k would be totally different than the 200k.  "I figure it's like a Century you get lost on," he said.  The 300k is definitely a different animal than the Century or 200k: much like a marathon isn't just a half marathon twice.

I don't know if they were intolerant or naive before 1810

The first contrôle was the Dunkin Donuts in Harvard, MA.  My bathroom break and my pace had put me near the very end of the ride.  While I was still within the defined time, I was only 20 minutes ahead of the cutoff.  But I was committed to keeping an easy pace that would pay off in the end.  (There is a story about a Testudine and a Lepus that comes to mind.)  



After about 1/2 of a medium Dunkin French Vanilla Black, I headed out onwards.  After a brief sojourn incorrectly into Ayer, I made my way back en route through Devens and into towns I only know in theory (Fitchburg, Ashby, Ashburnham).  It was during this section that I engaged the second part of my strategy: Eat salty and sweet foods.  Nutrition is often overlooked by non endurance athletes.  In fact, a friend of mine went to a clinic for running coaches.  There, in discussions led by college track and x-country coaches, all they could talk about during the ultramarathon portions of the classes was training paces.  My friend was far more concerned with teaching nutrition, for training and race day.  But, even college level coaches didn't realize how important that is once you get to such distances.  Between Slim Jims* and Cliff Bars I was able to maintain a balance between sweet and salty.

The absolute steepest and most physically challenging climb of the day was on this stretch.  Cushing Street starts at the gate of Cushing Academy (not to be confused with the now closed Cardinal Cushing Academy). And like Leg 3 of the Lake Winnipesaukee Relay is just silly.  I passed three people on the hill, two of whom were probably doing the smarter action and walking up it.  I rolled into the second contrôle, Tweedo's Market, about 30 minutes behind my schedule but gaining ground on the contrôle time from the first one.

I grabbed one of the turkey on pita sandwiches out of my bag; texted Urvi with an update and ran through the cue sheet to remember my notes.  52 miles in for the ride (66 for the day) and neither fatigue nor hunger were a factor yet.  Nutrition, pacing and fitness were up to snuff.

Doane's Falls
The next section could probably be counted as the best part of the entire ride.  We took a right into the Tully Lake Reservation.  I heard the specific rush of waterfalls and you know me and waterfalls: I had to stop. After a little walk of 50 yards or so, I got a great view of Doane's Falls.  Nice bit of respite on a day of long riding.  The beauty - and steep hills - continued in the Tully Lake Reservation.  On one of the steep downhills, I reached my new Personal Best for top speed on a bike - 42.7 mph!

As we left Tully Lake and Athol (moving into Orange, MA), the route takes you onto Tully Road.  It is a long lonely stretch of beauty.  The long slow climbs were time to think and reconsider.  I realized how much better shape I was in than 2011.  Closing in on 100 miles for the day and my training and fitness were not suffering.  In 2011, I was the victim of trying to do too many things at once.  On successive weekends I tried: National Marathon, Boston Brevet 200K, Fox Trot 10 mile trail race and the Brevet 300K.  Being the same period as a marathon, I wasn't properly trained for the long rides.  (and, at 250 lbs, I probably wasn't properly trained for the marathon either.)  After my failure to get better at the marathon and terrible performance in the Fox Trot, I probably wasn't mentally ready for a 300K either (but more on that later).

The fact is my fitness level was so low before because I hadn't had time to recover from a marathon, which you need time.  Also, I didn't have the cycling miles under my legs.  Like a half marathon or century ride, you can fake it on a 200K; you cannot once it gets longer.  As I climbed into Northfield for the third contrôle, I was confident in my fitness and in my training so that even with 125 miles left on the day, I knew I would finish.

Highland BBQ, pulled pork!
Fit and trained or not, I was quite happy to see Highland BBQ.  I was looking forward to some sliced brisket but had to "settle" for a big pulled pork sandwich!

I ran into Matt with whom I had ridden the 200K in 2010, before my bike had major issues:  The chain got caught between the first and second chain ring and I was forced to spend 45 minutes at a bike shop in Milford, NH.  Today I was all smiles.  I had caught up now with several people and we left from the BBQ place in a group of four riding the next 20 miles largely together (I did lose them on an uphill).  My pacing strategy was working.  I wasn't exhausted and was still churning along comfortably.  We pulled into the fourth contrôle with over 107 miles done.

Sanjay riding into a Western Mass town whose name I forgot

In his great work, Ethics, Baruch Spinoza argues: "The human mind has no knowledge of the body, and does not know it to exist, save through the ideas of the modifications whereby the body is affected." According to this mental toughness shouldn't be connected to the body what-so-ever.  But it is.  Later Spinoza says: "The human mind perceives not only the modifications of the body, but also the ideas of such modifications."  

When that modification is exhaustion due to not being properly trained or not properly tapering leading up to a large event, it is harder to have "mental toughness."  Now, I'm not discussing the "mental toughness" that sports writers yammer about (which always involves some otherworldly athlete having a slightly bad day and the writer blaming his "mental toughness" not the obvious statistical certainty that in 100 basketball games, one of them even the best player in the world will only score 7 points.)  No, I'm discussing a mental toughness to want to go on despite the fact that you physically don't want to.  In every endurance event there will be a moment where quitting seems like the best option.  Most of the time - especially when physically prepared - this is fleeting.  

As I rode slowly up the 6.9 miles on Rte 122, this feeling of quitting come over me again.  I was still a little wet from the rain; my back was muddy and disgusting from a general day in the saddle and from a specific dirt road; and, this long steady uphill was making me question the decision made 13 hours earlier to ride the 300k instead of the 200k.  But, I remember what an ultra runner told me before the Pineland Farms 50k: "Don't make any decisions while going uphill."  Eventually I saw the flashing light.  I knew I would make it to the top of the hill, to the next contrôle, only 0.6 miles after the light and to the finish line only 55 miles after that.

Dirt Road right after the rain
I was a full hour and a half behind my plan when I left the fifth contrôle (which was an adorable gazebo in the Petersham Town Square that I stupidly didn't take a picture of).  But, I wasn't worried. What I did think about was that it would be dark in 2 hours.  I figured if I could get as close to the suburbs as possible in the next two hours, I could make it through without worrying about darkness.  

Emily described the next 15 miles as "three kickers" worth of hills.  These hills definitely slowed down my progress; however, my "take it Easy" strategy came to full fruition here.  I gunned it!  Up and down hills, over dales and what not...

And that's when the C.H.U.D.s came at me: 


It did get fully dark before I expected. It was 8:45 when I got into Sterling Town Center (contrôle for the Little Lamb 100K) and this wasn't the suburbs.  I think of it as a streetlight doppler effect.  The number of street lights per mile diminishes (like the number of Ethiopian restaurants per mile) as you get further from a subway station.   So, Sterling MA had virtually zero.  I went through the town center and a rider who had been at the side wondering what to do latched onto me.  I forget his name, but we were a team for a while. It was the first 300k for both of us.  And both of us had not done well as far as equipment.  He had a very bright front lamp, so he was leaps and bounds better than me.  But we had problems reading the cue sheets as white lights off our flashes would create a glare in the plastic.  Neither of us were ready to ride through the dark exurb streets at night.

Then, I got flat!  man.  With about 18 miles left, in some residential section of Harvard or Maynard somewhere, I was trying to change the tire by the light of a flood light in front of a house.  Then like a story from Genesis, lights appear on the road, approaching us.  6 guys with bright headlights, CO2 canisters and general experience/knowhow.  Two of them were Steve and Chuck with whom I had ridden the 2011 200K.  They helped me fix the flat and let the two newbies join their crew.  After briefly getting separated (I took a wrong turn, or rather didn't turn), I got back with them with my MDI Marathon jacket and just rode in the middle of their pack.  They had the course on the GPS and bright lights so they didn't have to stop at every turn and look at the cue sheet.

Crossing the Connecticut River: Sunderland, MA
Riding into the end we got to Concord Center - 5 miles from the finish.  I realized it was really going to happen. I was going to get to Hanscom; I was going to finish.  I would get a big picture of the eight of us. We would sit down and get sodas before heading home, joke about how much of an idiot I was and grade my night equipment to an F!  But in Concord Center we were pulled over by one of the ride volunteers...

There had been a plane crash at Hanscom.  The airport was closed.  Jake, the race director(?) (I don't know the term, but if it was a 5k that'd be his title), was on the last road with his zip car as the finish.  They were only allowing riders into the airport two at a time to go get their cars and even then, the troopers were telling the riders to just load up the bikes and get out, don't even change shoes.

Philadelphia Inquirer owner, Lewis Katz, and friends had come to Concord to celebrate the launch of an educational non-profit run by Doris Kearns Goodwin's son.  After the party they had boarded a private plane and to head back to NJ/Philly.  The plane had crashed immediately after takeoff.  None of this did I know at the time. Yet, we knew a crash was a crash and survivors were unlikely.

So, in an odd silence we all merely separated.  Physical triumphs became unimportant almost immediately. The enormity of the ride and the crash wouldn't hit me until the next day.  I rode home through the streets of Lexington, Arlington and Cambridge quickly as they have streetlights (and Ethiopian restaurants).  I was anxious to see Urvi and celebrate a bit.

* - little aside on Slim Jims (and any product you want to ride with), test the opening ability BEFORE the ride.  These Slim Jims  I purchased were so tightly packed in shrink wrap that getting them out of their stupid package a) probably spent as many calories as eating them and b) It gets dangerous trying rip it open at 20 mph

** - Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Pedals, Paddles, Puddles and Puppies: 5th Anniversary PPWW Hike (8/4/13)

Max, Jess, Andrew, Andy, Emma and I
wet and wild at the bottom
Trip: Mt. Moosilauke Hike
Sights: White Mountains, Waterfalls
Distance: 2.14 Miles
Pivo Index: 1

On the way down, Andrew and I discussed that trip to America's Stonehenge five years ago:

"Not as rainy as that"

"Nope, there were sheets of rain," he said. "I'm not sure it was safe to drive but we were cycling in it.  This is better."

Then minutes later he said: "Oh hail; it wasn't hailing five years ago."

****

Andy, Emma and I drove up from Winter Hill and met Andrew, Jess and Max on the way.  We pulled into the parking lot.  Andy and I discussed how we didn't have any wet weather gear.  But that was okay: it didn't look like rain.

As we left the lot and into the woods, a sign warned us of tragic results:



The Beaver Brook trail took us up along the brook that was a constant drop all the way down to the notch. The waterfalls were so beautiful.



Andy and Emma

As we started climbing up, the trail became cool railroad tie like stairs mixed with sheets of granite.  But soon, the rain put a damper on things:

Andrew and Andy hide under the canopy



When the thunder started thundering, we decided to head back down.

So it was a rain shortened but still fun hike.  Many next time.


Max: In action (T) and at rest (B).
While we did around 2 miles, Max probably hiked more like 5 as scout, herder and finder of brooks


Afterwards, we headed over to the Common Man in Lincoln for Lobster Mac and Cheese and Moops Moor Porter.

Moops Moor Porter

Biggest tub of Sweet Baby Ray's ever 
Review of Beaver Brook Trail by someone who made it.

Monday, July 8, 2013

In Search of ... Little Wilson Falls 3 (7/7/13)

Little Wilson Falls
Hike: Little Wilson Falls
Location: Monson, ME
Distance: 4.6 miles
Time: 2:56

Even the Bangor Daily News warned that Little Wilson Falls is hard to find. Listed in my Mom's hiking book as "Maine's prettiest waterfall," this hike became a big goal of mine and my mom.  In 2008, she and her friend Barbara had tried to the trail to the fall to no avail.  In 2009, my mom and I found the trail head but missed a crucial turn (that doesn't have a sign if you come from the way we went.)  In 2011,we were finally successful.

So, when Urvi and I went up to my folks cabin after the 4k on the 4th, we decided to do what was such a pretty hike.

We drove from Harmony out to Monson and then out Elliotsville Road.  The actual trailhead is across the Wilson Stream from the parking lot.  This means the start of the hike is fording the stream (somewhere between "river" and "creek").

After the fording you get on an old ATV double track trail (that is now closed to ATVs) for about a mile.  Definitely not the prettiest part of the hike.  Just walking uphill through waist high grass.

At one mile you make it to a pretty pond at the junction with the Appalachian Trail.  You wouldn't know from the sign that only can be seen coming the other way:

Pond
The left takes you off the double track and onto a single track, Tolkien-ian looking boggy glade.  Urvi immediately went shin deep in a mud pit - almost losing her shoe.  The mud-hiking was ameliorated in a few hundred yards by split rail trackways laid atop the boggy ground.

My mom on the trackway

Urvi on the trackway
Once across the trackway you can start to hear the Wilson Stream again.  losing all the altitude you gained in the first hour, the AT carries you down to the confluence of the Wilsons (Little and not).

Confluence
Here's the second and harder stream fording.  The speed of the river is much faster than the first crossing.  So, I whipped my shoes across the river and packed my watch into my bag.  Over the river and through the woods I go.

Urvi fording
Once you cross, if you go left there is a set of stairs built with local granite to climb the step hill up to the top of the ridge.  If you don't see the turn to the left and go straight, there is a tough rooted climb that requires some scrambling.  Then, when you get to the top, you'll notice there is an easier way up (and down, that's what we took down.)

At the top of the ridge it was a pretty easy hike to the falls themselves...

Create Maps or search from 80 million at MapMyRide

Urvi and I at the falls

Thursday, July 4, 2013

What's Italian for Whitewater?: Rafting the Lao (7/1/13)

Urvi and I rafting away!

Trip: Lao River
Distance: 12 km (245 meters of vertical drop)
Time: 1:40:00
Sights: Pollino National Park, Papasidero, Canyons, Waterfalls/Fosses/Slaps

Perhaps the two biggest things I’ve always wanted to do that I have never done are whitewater rafting and skydiving.  In nearly 40 years, I’ve always said, I want to go rafting and in nearly 40 years everyone has said, yeah, we’ll do that sometime.

Well, Urvi was willing to actually do it rather than just say yeah, we’ll do that sometime.

In the beautiful National Park Pollino in the mountains outside Scalea, the outfit Rafting Yahoooo runs great trips: Medium, Advanced, Family and All Day.  Urvi and I signed up for “Medio” which requires you be at least 8 years old.  Well, we have the ability and courage of 8 year olds.


Papasidero




Rafting Yahooo picked us up at our hotel and drove us 30 minutes up into the mountains.  We got to the camp area and the driver had to go wake up the guides… Once they got there and we made a change into wetsuits, we were off for another half hour drive even further into the mountains and the National Park.  We helped carry the raft into the water – right on a rushing rapid.

The stroke of rafting is very similar to the dragon boat stroke rather than say a canoe one: extend the body forward with the paddle vertical.  Then sit up as you pull the paddle vertical through the water.  Stephen, our guide-driver, spoke very little English.  Mainly: “forward”, “backpaddle” and “stop.”  With the professional guide and the fast river, it isn’t as much paddling as kayaking or canoeing.



But it is like an interval workout.  You go through reasonably quite bits, almost just floating, admiring the beautiful canyons and mountains and trees of Italy’s largest national park.  Then WHAM! a rapid approaches and Stephan is saying “Forward!”  and madly Urvi and I are paddling for a minute or so.  The boat is bounding through the waves and dips and splashing us and the boat.  Then on the other side: “STOP”

Back to admiring beautiful canyons and mountains and trees of Italy’s largest national park.


Even with stops at beautiful waterfalls and the floating through nature – it was still finished all too quickly.  Thanks to Urvi for indulging me and Rafting Yahoooo.

Chasing waterfalls

Now, who’s up for some skydiving?

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Thakgil to Reykjavik: Photo Blog (8/22/12)

Victor at Camp Thakgil

Brian, Sarah, Andy, Aharon and Victor and the walk by Camp Thakgil

Foss by Thakgil

Sheep around Thakgil

The road to the Glacier

Basalt Cliffs of Vik (Victor, Korynn, Amie, Seth, Laurie)

Vik

Seljalandsfoss

Foss next to Seljalandsfoss

Andy falling in the river

Everything we packed into a Yaris with 5 people