I know it's been a long time since I posted and I kept meaning to, but it's hard to ride and write at the same time. This year I was sent to a training camp in Arizona and i'll tell you about that sometime soon if you bug me. But here is the latest adventure, I thought you might enjoy it.

Clifton to Philadelphia and all points in between
Sunday, 6:30am. I met Liong in Clifton at the train station under drizzly skies.

We checked over our gear and thinned it. One pump, one multi-tool between us was sufficient so we weren't carrying unnecessary weight. Living dangerously, we took one tube and a couple co2 cartridges and a patch kit just in case. We roll out through Clifton and into Paterson on some of the most horrible roads I've ever ridden on. In light mist and scattered showers we ride up past Garret Mountain, over the gentle side of the Preakness range and back into Wayne(around 8 miles from my house).

We took 202 into Boonton where lost it briefly. The trouble with following old county roads is lack of signs for the many turns and we encountered that problem a couple of times. I have a vague idea that Morris Ave connects back to 202 but I'm not positive. Fortunately, Liong is not the typical male and was quick to ask for directions. Maybe because he knows the penalty for error is pretty big on a bike. He goes into a paper shop and I see him through the window talking to a customer. After a bit they both walk back out. The guy heads towards his truck still talking with Liong and commenting on our bikes and asks us where we're headed. When we tell him he says, "Oh, Princeton." When we corrected him I wish I had a camera to catch the moment. His eyes bulged like a pair of fried eggs slapped on his face as he said, "PHILADELPHIA!!!!??... Well, good luck with that." God, his face was priceless and I swear I laughed about it for at least the next mile. Most people can't fathom going 10 miles on a bike and that's rally funny from our perspective..

We zipped along through East Hanover and Parsippany and Morris Plains where Liong hands me an egg and starts to crack one for himself on his hoods. As I'm cracking mine I'm just hoping it's not one of those crazy Asian eggs with a hard-boiled chick inside. I wouldn't want to offend him by not accepting his gift but I really don't want to try one of those things. Luckily, it was just a regular one and we left our trail of eggshells to find our way home as we passed Marty's Reliable and waved to nobody.

No more stats
My Garmin crapped out somewhere past Bernardsville. I had charged it overnight but it just turned off for no reason. It's three years old and I knew it had issues so I bought a refurb before the Arizona trip but at three months old, it fell out of my jersey, hit the cement floor and broke the screen, hence me using the old one today. Anyway, I could still get distance and speed from Liong's unit but I really wanted to record heart rate activity because that would tell me everything I wanted to know. Oh well, I guess I can add 20 points to all of his numbers to get mine since I was working my butt off to keep up with him. We hit a good section of rain and I have no idea how long it actually lasted but my hair was soaked into spiral curls that dripped onto my legs. I figure it must have been a good deal of sweat too, because Liong's hair was strangely dry.

We knew the weather was iffy as reports called for 40% chance of rain throughout the day and a good chance of thunderstorms in Philly. Now, 40% chance of rain could mean anything from constant downpours to no rain at all so we took a gamble. It paid off with heavy overcast skies, moderate temps and a pretty consistent european-esqe mist - absolutely perfect for cycling. No sunscreen needed and the mist is just lovely for the complexion.

We rode past round valley and stopped for lunch at a chinese place outside Flemington. The food was good. Liong seems to be able to eat absolutely anything but I've got to be careful with food if I'm riding. I'm best off on a liquid diet because I seem to process food differently but I didn't have a chance to make my homemade gel.
Isn't lunch pretty?

It was an innocuous meal for my stomach without setting Liong up for the 'after lunch' shot somewhere along route 523(we know how he likes to take shots of messes in the road ). In fact I don't remember where, but we stopped when a huge groundhog waddled onto the road in front of us and stood in his tracks to check us out. I don't know if it's good or bad to have a groundhog size you up, but I said, "Liong, take a picture." He just didn't get it out in time and I really think that's why he posts photos of roadkill, they're the only things that sit still long enough for him to get his camera out.

Do you feel what I feel?
I don't remember where it was, but I think we rode through the gates of roadie heaven as there was just this amazing feeling of perfection as we rode along on a smooth road in lush settings with cool temps and no traffic and it was just ethereal. It was pure joy. Liong felt it too and commented that he wished he took the road bike plunge years ago. It was glorious and we whooped it up in appreciation to the spirit that was protecting us, it being Sunday and all.


We saw other moving animals: a red fox bounding through a field, a gaggle of turkey buzzards eyeing us from the roadside, horses, cows, billy goats(baaaaa!) and bison... bison!? Yep, tons of buffalo. Calves and adults. I've seen a few of them in a zoo here and there but nothing like this. There were near a hundred head, if not more and they freaked out and ran away from the fence where they were grazing as we whizzed by on our bikes. It was cool to hear the thundering of hooves and think of what it might have been like way back when...




Beasts of a different kind
Oh, and somewhere along the way we had stopped for something or other and sneaking around a corner, we caught sight of a Jaguar. Then a couple Lambourghinis, a Ferrari, a couple Maseratis, a Lotus and Porche, Porche, Porches, each gave us a little show as it came to a stop and turned the corner. This must be a group ride for the "Men with Way Too Much Money" club but we appreciated the parade of at least 30 cars.

There were so many surprises along the way and the scenery was just fabulous through most of our trip. Roads were lined with wild roses and huneysuckle and their air wafted across the road. Gardens were heavy with peonies and iris and all manner of showy flowers. and it was all here just for us. So many people have no idea what Jersey has to offer beyond the Jersey City refineries and the turnpike. It's such a shame we've got a bad rap, but we've really got everything at our fingertips in this state. You just have to look for it.

Halfway
We hit the bridge and walked across into Pennsylvania. We're halfway to Philly. We stopped mid bridge for a couple shots and looked a little closer at the surroundings. In the river below three guys sat in an open boat with an outboard motor. They had thrown an impressively large anchor to keep them from drifting in the current and sat fishing and drinking beer and smoking what was clearly not your typical cigarette. It may have been their ultimate way to spend a Sunday but I wouldn't trade places with them for anything.


On the PA side, ancient covered barges sat decaying in the remnants of a canal. Imagine their heyday and the gentleness of the time. Across the bridge was a small ice cream and burger joint and we stopped for a bit. We drew some attention there.

Waiting in line for the bathroom, two little girls in front of me wearing pink sundresses and covered in chocolate 'makeup' stared with wide eyes obviously filled with questions. I started the conversation, "Hi. Did you have ice cream?" They bubbled over like shaken sodas. The oldest may have been eight or nine and asked how far we rode. When I said, "From Clifton, NJ", their eyes grew even wider. When I told them we'd probably ride 120 miles today their eyes grew even wider and the mom chimed in with good wishes. and they told me how they like to ride their bikes. I asked if they might like to ride that far someday and they vigorously nodded yes. It was pretty cool being a celebrity for five minutes. It would be even cooler if meeting them set a spark in those girls that would lead them to the freedom of riding and the same strengths and challenges and joyful independence that my cycling gives me.

Are you nuts?
Back at the front, a man circled around our bikes and commented about Liong's mean new machine. His conversation led to how much a bike like that costs and he said, "Are you crazy!?" I just laughed. (Yep. He's the crazy Asian and I'm a Cyclopath, and here we are riding 120 miles today on bikes that cost more than some cars we passed, so I guess that makes us both crazy.) Liong commented that mine was worth more than his and that neither were even close to the $15,000 realm of some pro bikes and that it works itself out when you ride as much as we do. The man wandered off in bewilderment as I chuckled and chuckled. I used to think the price tag was crazy too but the reality check in how much I've paid for a quality guitar and the payback you get in performance for that difference really makes it logical.

Back on the road we pass through New Hope and Liong is taken in by it's artsy vibe and culture. He vows to bring his wife out there to visit. She loves to window shop and there's no better place than here for a taste of everything you could want.

Share the road
Wow, the difference in the drivers out here is striking. I noticed pretty quickly that nearly every car that passed us crossed the center line to give us extra space even when we really didn't need it. You could hear the cars hit the rumble strip behind you and you knew that they weren't a threat to your safety. Not that we had any problems in the 60 miles we laid down so far, but it was a new and refreshing mentality that cyclists were accepted and protected rather than means for random target practice.

And on
More spectacular roads, more climbs that were beating me down and Liong gives me pointers on how I should spin more to climb faster. I explain briefly about how I survive with different techniques on different hills and how inertia has a big part in the equation of my climbing and then I say, "You, Mr. Single Speeder on a week old road bike are telling me how to climb?" Just shut up, Liong, and tuck in behind me quick at the crest or I'll leave you in the dust. He remarks about how I am like a cannon ball on the downhills(though I prefer the imagery of being more like a torpedo). I drop him with ease and on the umpteenth drop, I look over my shoulder and see him right there. I smile as he's figured out how to jump in on my slipstream and come along for the ride. I say, "That's how you do it, Son!" I'm having so much fun playing with Liong and his new toy.



Church
We stop and wander the manicured grounds of the commanding Bryn Athyn Cathedral, a national landmark, and look around the building. Doors are locked but peeking in, it's awesome with stained glass windows towering almost to the lofty ceiling. The beauty and craftsmanship are boggling. It was obviously built with a lot of love and devotion. I offer a prayer of thanks for our safe passage.


Biketopia?
We hit the outskirts of Philly and Liong says we've got 20-30 miles to go. I ask him, "Are you sure?". We pass a train station and he, straight faced, offers to end the ride if I've had enough. I look at him like he's got two heads, "No way in hell! I'm finishing this thing with you or without you. "

It's more urban here and the switch between open country to this is a matter of a mile or so. Though urban, it's strikingly clean and maintained(I know we're not in Paterson anymore, Toto.) with a BIKE LANE painted all along the street. There are signs all over to yield to cyclists even at ramps where NJ drivers typically speed up to get around you, here they stop and wait even if you're a hundred feet back. NICE! I imagine they don't have the same venomous dialogue about sharing the road as we do around here. To them, sharing the road is a given.

We are passed by a school bus of kids who are cheering, smiling and waving at us as we rip along.... "Spectators cheer as the peloton enters the final 15 kilometers!!" We play cat and mouse for a bit until it gets away and the kids set their sights on other games.

The final stretch
Our street turns O Ne way("That's one way, Barney!") and Liong asks some pedestrians which way to downtown. He points left and we see the skyline. I remark how it's right here and the man says, "No, it's way down there.". Well, in relation...

We trot towards the city pausing at stop lights. There's Ben looking out over the city, waiting to greet us.
I put my fist out to Liong. We did it. We rock.


People have been friendly and courteous and the drivers respectful all the way here except for a man on the street who spit at Liong as we rode by. It took us 116 miles to encounter our first idiot... that's pretty damned good, I think. We laughed at the fool because he didn't even come close to hitting Liong. Shoot, either one of us could send a snot rocket farther than that.


And back
We ride around touring amid multitudes of hipsters on fixies and cruisers locked to U bars at every corner and grab some dinner. Eventually, we make our way to the train station on 30th and Market. It's a cavernous building and the clicking of my hubs sounds cool in echo. I think we both planned on napping on the train home since, when we compared notes, neither of us had more than 4 1/2 hours sleep the night before we did this amazing tour, but we didn't. We talked all the way back. I've had a fabulous day. I've beat the crap out of myself and spent all of me and I still feel good.(Ha! We sang that as we cruised into Philly. We have to transfer twice and on the last train back, I sign to Liong, - I love my bike-, and I rest my chin on the seat. Sweet, sweet bike.

In Secaucus, our train arrives at 10:20, just minutes after the train leaves for Clifton. The next one is 11:49 pm. Instead of waiting we take the train to Garfield and ride the 4 miles back to the Clifton station through quiet city streets barely lit in neon and streetlights with an "After Hours" cult like feel. The swish, swish, swish of our tires echoes off the quiet buildings. Liong has obviously done this before but this is my first night ride since I was 19 and it is the perfect topper to an odyssey of a day. As we zip along the slight grade, he asks me where I'm getting all my energy from. I say, "This isn't energy, Son, this is downhill advantage.". A bit after 11 pm, we're back at my car. Liong tells me to give his apologies to Chris for keeping me so long and I tell him to hug his wife for me and to thank her for sharing him. She is a very generous woman and though I've not met her yet, she is very dear to me.

The tallies:
124 miles(Liong gets an extra 4 for commuting to and from the Clifton station), many thousands of calories burned, ZERO flats, innumerable smiles and laughs and memories and one of the best days I've ever spent on a bike. Another riding buddy warned me that we'd hate each other at the end of this tour but he was so very wrong. I appreciate Liong now more than ever for his kind, gentle, accepting spirit and joy of life, not to mention his twisted sense of humor. We may have come from different worlds but we share a spirit, a sport and a love of adventure. We didn't break any speed records because we took the time to enjoy the journey and just have fun riding our bikes.

Remember when you were a kid and you wished you could just ride your bike down the street, across the tracks, through the town and just keep going and going forever? That's what I did today. And I was so fortunate to have done it all with Liong, who used to be my friend but is now truly my brother.

By the time I got to Woodstock...

I just got home from a three day Mike Fraysse training camp. It was excellent and a great way to find out where I stand and to get to know and share notes with my new teammates.

Friday started with meeting and a lecture and dinner and a Halloween walk of terror done by a professional group(I wasn't scared...really). It was a ton of fun.

Saturday was a washout for outdoor riding but we worked on some power testing(my numbers made me happy) and pro fit adjustments(mine was the only bike that needed no adjustment- fit by Rob at Pedal Sports). Then we got history, training, coaching and nutrition lectures as well as a bunch of stories that had our sides aching from laughter. After dinner we were treated to a real ghost tour of the 28 room mansion we were guests in that was built in 1907 for an heir of the Singer company.

Sunday, we had a perfect day for an all-out hard ride up to Woodstock at Bethel Woods, the site of the legendary event. The hills were just relentless. I made the mistake of eating a light breakfast before riding since it was the only meal to be available until the planned late lunch. Well, I got sick three times on the way out and once on the way back. It just proved again that I just don't tolerate solids if I'm going to put in any kind of effort. Though I still rode well, it really taxes your body to ride while your stomach is wretching and pieces of breakfast are stuck in your throat and you're climbing a hill and can't drink because the man who has coached many, many olympic medalists is lurking behind you watching your every move and you want to look as smooth and clean and accomplished as possible while willing your sorry ass up one mother of a climb. I did hope he realized that one of those times when I spit to the side it was really not spit and that I never missed a stroke while I puked over my shoulder.

So, in the final critiquing session, he went around the room pointing out the girl who didn't put her heels down, the guys whose knees pointed out when they were getting tired, the people who had poor form, boxy strokes etc.. I asked him what I needed to dial in and he said, "Other than what we talked about before(loose weight), nothing." Then, the guy who has coached multitudes of champion cyclists said he was 'absolutely impressed' with me. I'd like to think that he was impressed because he knew I had champion potential, but I know he was simply impressed that I didn't drop dead on my way back in.

Anyway, if you ever get the opportunity, go. The man is a gold mine of information, an amazingly skilled coach and a warm, inviting and good humored guy. I recommend him highly and can't wait for the chance to go again and prove him right.

http://mftrainingcamps.blogspot.com

Another story? Oh, goodie!! I love stories.


Did I ever tell you how I got my dog?
First, I'll tell you about Roxie, our family dog. She was maybe 3 1/2 when we adopted her from PAWS in Montclair. She was a run-away Border Collie, found on the street. Nobody came looking for her. Her previous owner must not have wanted her back and we found out why.

Roxie was no prize possession in the beginning. She loved to run and each time she got an inch she bolted out the door. She loved to be chased but chasing her wore thin quickly. She was also aggressive. Once while walking her down the street, she lunged towards dogs locked behind a fence, entangling my fingers in the leash and snapping three of them back. I swore she broke the tips of two. I yanked her back and she came snarling and snapping at me. Bad move. I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and shoved her down on her side in the middle of the street. As my fingers floated between throbbing and numb, my other hand clenched her fur and twisted it and pressed into her throat. Spitting venom through my teeth, I told her I would kill her if she ever did anything like that again. I think she knew I was dead serious.

I had some thinking to do. I didn't really want to give up on her but we expected a baby within a month and had a 4 1/2 yr old at home. Did I want to chance it with an unpredictable dog? NO WAY!! I called PAWS to discuss returning her. The staff fully understood my problem and would take her back but asked if I would keep her a little longer since they were dealing with an outbreak of Parvo. I agreed, as sending her back could be a death sentence.

Roxie knew she was three paws out the door and seriously changed her ways. She became a devoted, loving, smart, active friend and family member that we all adored until she died in my arms of congestive heart failure at the young age of 13. Losing her simply ripped our hearts out.

SO what does that have to do with biking? Everything.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, I went for our usual shop ride. It was so cold that only five of us were stupid enough to be out there. I think it was 13 degrees before the wind chill factor was added in. Why do you go out on such a day? To get some exercise is the excuse, but it's really just to hang out with some soul mates for a while.

We started out and hoped to warm up. At mile 5 the first guy broke off and headed back to get ready for work. It wasn't any warmer. At mile ten, I told the guys not to wait for me on the hill. I was so cold, I was heading back at the split. The ride back was brutal. Scary even. My heart rate was ridiculously low and I felt like I was fighting hypothermia. I fought to keep going, to keep my blood moving but it felt like I was trying to pedal through freshly poured concrete. Finally back at the shop, I decided to wait for the rest of the guys to see that they were OK. I sat in the car for all of five minutes when I couldn't stand it anymore and went into the only open store in the lot.

I stood looking out the glass storefront of the pet feed store, waiting for the guys and slowly thawing out. One of the ladies looked me up and down. Thin tights, a lightweight jacket, light gloves and covers over my shoes. She asked, "What kind of shoes are they?". I looked ridiculous. I told her I was waiting for friends and talked a bit about our ride that morning. She asked if I had been in that store before. I told her I used to buy my food there for my dog that had died 5 weeks ago. She asked what kind of dog and I told her, a Border Collie. Then she looked pointedly at me and said, "You may be here for more than warming your feet." She turned then walked behind the counter and pulled a paper off the wall. "This woman came in the night before last. They need a home for this Border Collie puppy. I think this dog is meant for you."

I wasn't over Roxie. The wound from losing her was still fresh and burning, but this photo... I said to myself, "This is not the right time, but I think this might be the right dog. There was something about the photo that said he was perfect.

I called the number and fought back tears as I told the woman we were interested in the dog. Their family met mine and decided we were the right family for the puppy and we brought him home the day before Thanksgiving.

We kept his name, Eli, and he has been the greatest gift to our family. The easiest pup, the smartest dog. Great with every one in our family. It really was meant to be. And it happened because I rode my bike on a way too cold day... If it can make that much of an impact on my family, imagine what riding might do for you!

It's been way too long since I last posted. So much has happened. Yes, I am still riding, even more dedicated than ever.
I have been reminded by a friend that I've been ignoring this site(Thanks, Chris!) so here you go...

Posted with my biking chat group:

August 11, 2009
Inspired by Utah Joe's excellent adventure and dreading a long, hot, slow car ride with bickering children, I asked for and got permission to ride my bike to LBI this coming weekend. I'll probably build Utah's route into mine and add on what I need before and after. Right now, I'm looking at 125 miles before I take the highways out. This just might hurt.

The downside is the bike. My Roubaix Pro, the bike that would make this ride almost comfortable, is being warranty replaced when the 2010's come in... probably in November. It's not broken yet, but shows signs of galenic corrosion at the seatstay bonding. Besides a gentle 20 miler today, I haven't been on it in over a month and have been riding a not so friendly Fuji Roubaix. Do I chance disaster on the bike I adore, or ride one that doesn't fit me perfectly?

SO, now that I've been silly enough to post this, I am obligated to complete this mission. Any pointers on routes? Anyone want to jump in for all or part of the tour?
__________________

August 12, 2009
Yep, I rode 286 miles last summer on the hottest, nastiest days of the year. No day was more than 100 miles and it certainly had more hills than I expect in the lower half of the state. I did learn a hell of a lot on that ride. Critical were hydrating and cooling and I was none too proud to stand in any available water sprinkler along the route, pour water over my head through my helmet or stuff it with ice cubes. I'll be sure to do the same things as needed on this ride.

As for distance, I think 112 was my longest ever but I think if I play it smart and don't try to come in at 18 mph, I'll be fine. It will work better for me to go the distance and get picked up if I need rather than starting half way and being forced to finish. We've got 5 cars heading to the beach house, so that might work it's way into being my very own support team. In fact, I think I'll just make it into one. That in itself might add a sense of mental security that could pull me through.

The bike.
If I had my bike, I'd do it in a heartbeat. This bike, I'm going to go talk to Rob and see what we can do to make it better. I've not been fitted to the Fuji, but eyeballed seat position and height when I first started riding it. When we took measurements, Rob was surprised how close I came to the fit of my Roubaix just by feel. I mean really close.

The bars stink on this bike. I just re-wrapped them with bar phat and it's made a huge difference, but my hands still go numb way too quickly. The specialized bars have more of a flat and super cushy surface that doesn't concentrate the pressure in a tiny area. Switching the bars over would help a ton but would be a big job considering I just did these and I put new cables on too.

Tires.
I'm bound to be riding sketchy areas. Should I leave the $60 mondo tires on, get a new set of armadillo or grab a set of $20 cheep-o's?

Bike nutrition?
Well, you'd think I'd have that down, but what conventional wisdom says and how my body works are two completely different things. I tend to get sick on anything that isn't quickly digested. PB&J's, power bars and Cliff stuff are just bad news for me and even bananas mid ride are iffy. Oranges, melon and gel is okay. I make my own gel with a protein powder base and blue agave syrup for carbs. On paper, it packs the nutrition of a full day with low GI which I really need. On the calorie side, it's not going to come close to my 'daily needs' before burning an extra 6 or 7 thousand in a day. But that's just how it is. Gatorade and high calorie drinks don't stay down. Salted water with lemon juice is just fine as is emergen-c, so I'll have plenty of that on hand. Hammer Endurolytes are a life saver and I'll stop often for water to avoid dehydration. If I'm lucky, I may manage to loose an ounce or two.

So, I'll iron out the details and get this thing into a reality. Heck, if it beats the crap out of me, I'll have the next week to recover at an oceanfront beach house. I could think of worse things.
__________________
August 13, 2009
Wow! Joe was NOT kidding when he said that mapping was a real chore.

I finally have it. Staying nearly straight down the center of the state and avoiding main roads, it looks like 123 miles. A hell of a lot nicer than I had expected. I built onto Utah's map on both ends and made a few adjustments. I checked with the Fort Dix police to be sure the roads I chose through their complex were not subject to firing at intruders on first sight.

I think the worst area will be route 72 through Manahawkin and if it's too crazy, I'll call for a pick up.

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&sour...5&ie=UTF8&z=14

I hope this link works. I'd love feedback. Gotta go print it out.
__________________
August 14, 2009
Nearly packed, 7am I roll. I'll be on the same course as the shop ride for the first 10 miles so if I'm a tad late I may decide to ride with the boys for a while. That would be a nice send-off.

So wish me luck and do say hello if I ride through your neighborhood.
I'll let you know how it works out.
__________________
August 15,2009
I am writing this while laying on a blow up mattress on the porch of an oceanfront beach house in LBI and listening to the waves rolling in.

I mostly want to say... THANK GOD FOR BEER!!
more later

__________________
August 16, 2009
Chris’ report.

I was going to do this thing alone, self-sufficient. I had it all mapped out, all planned. I had a game plan for any emergencies. I would call Chris only if I needed him and I wasn’t going to need him. So, my husband decided to ignore my wishes and drive my route. He took the Parkway to New Brunswick and started there. It was a good thing.

There were streets that didn’t have signs, roads that didn’t exist and detours that had to be made from my planned route. When I finally found it, Hoes Lane was completely closed, but Mitchell was a nice alternate. They had a bunch of trouble with the Ryder/George interchange but I sailed through. Further on were more issues. Having a 705 with a GPS would have helped but there were some things even a 705 would not have saved me from.

My family spent a lot of time calling me and as much of a PITA that was, I couldn’t have made it without them. My kids found it to be an adventure. Matt was a co-pilot and Shannon was an extra set of eyes, playing their own version of “Where’s Waldo?”. On George, they stopped at a Wendy’s for lunch and I met them there. The look on the kids’ faces was priceless. They were so proud and amazed. My son took my 4 water bottles into Wendy’s and had them refilled. My daughter ran to hug me and just as quickly changed her mind. Mom, you’re all sweaty. My son couldn’t care less and grabbed me for the soggiest, smelliest hug he ever had. I grabbed an apricot and half a bagel from the car and listened to Shannon's description of a Frosty smoothie.

Many calls later and much further down the route, past Great Adventure, Chris turned onto Lake Road, following my course. Lake started out fine then got a little coating of sand on it, then got a little soft, then where the road dipped a little bit, my car loaded with half the contents of my house, got stuck in the sand that covered the road.

Trying to get out, they rolled and spun. The kids tried to push. They managed to bury the car above the chassis. The kids tried to put the car mats under the tires for traction as they remembered that was how I got my car out of 6” of mud at a music festival last year. No luck. Matt started pulling sticks and things out of the woods and tried to shove them under the wheels. Nothing worked. Chris had the cell phone in one hand and his wallet in the other going for the AAA card when a guy in a Jeep on a bypass road above them stopped and yelled down to my family.

He came back around and hooked up to my van and said theirs wasn’t the first car he had pulled from that spot. In fact there were bumpers and pieces of trim scattered across this area from previous victims of ‘the car pit’. The guy explained that it is a treacherous area and people take it because it saves 5 miles from the alternate. Chris backed up until it was solid before turning around on the road.

For the next 30 miles, each time they hit a bump the sand released from the car and splattered in the wheel wells. They all found this hysterical as they laughed their way through the rest of the ride. It certainly made day one of our vacation an adventure for them and one trip they’ll never forget.

My report later.

__________________
August 17, 2009
The Ride
I got screwed up a couple times by the “turn slight left on” roads by Google. My first run off course was less than a mile beyond our shop loop. That cost the first 15 minutes of down time. I missed a road in East Hanover and was directed back by a walker. The next place was in Morristown at Meyersville Rd. My map showed that Meyersville cut through the swamp, changed names a couple times and then turned back into the long, straight road that’s so adored by the roadies. I had half a notion that it didn’t really. So, when I came up to the “No outlet” sign, I didn’t venture further. Instead, I turned around and caught up with a couple of riders and asked how to get to Meyersville Rd. They sent me up to Pleasantville, which led me out.

A couple of missteps past Warren got me side tracked and asking for directions again to get into Washington Rock. I paused at the rock and took a couple steps. Tap, click, tap, click… hmmmm… click, click, click. Crap! Something is up with my shoe. Sitting on a picnic table I took off the shoe to find the cleat dangerously loose. The under-screw, the one that holds the cleat to the sole was nearly falling out and one outer screw missing. This would have been a really bad situation if I hadn’t noticed.

I pulled out the multi-tool I don’t even bother bringing with me on local rides. I’m glad I brought it today. No Phillips. I can’t pull off the top plate to do it right, so I tighten the under screw as best as I can. I called home to tell Matt to put the bag with spare cleat parts into the van. I have some home-made gel and use the environmental perma-potty on the top of the hill. These things are great! They self compost and had almost no odor. On top of that, they have a lovely built in fan that is so refreshing and is something of a blow drier for one’s bottom. You must try it some time.

Down from the rock, I miss a turn. I never actually noticed one and I come to a T-intersection where none of the roads equate to my cue. Maybe this is another of the Googleisms and I’ll catch back up to the right road, but which way? The choices, climb back up Washington Rock to see where I screwed up? NOT! Go left, up an incline to the unknown or head downhill to the right since I know this is the last of the hills and hope it’s not a mistake. I take the path of least resistance, the downhill. I swoop down into a town and business district, scanning for a place to refill my water bottles and see Warrensville True Value across the way. Bingo!

I roll to the door. A customer coming out sees me and holds it open fo me and my bike. I walk right in and rest my ride against the nearest display. I take my shoe off and ask the clerk if I can borrow a screwdriver and where I could buy a single screw… (Phillips head, that is). She says, “Aisle three, use any one you like and the screws are at the end of the aisle.” I grab a driver then stare dumbly at the wall with thousands of screws in drawers. Another clerk helps me locate a screw with a close enough threading, length and head. They were amazingly nice and very accommodating and I bought only one 13 cent screw. The girl at the register offered to keep my bike there while I filled my bottles at Krauser’s next door. Mistake. Krausers was NASTY and didn’t even have water in the very old soda dispenser. Back to the hardware store, they insisted I use their water cooler to fill my four bottles. I used the nice clean bathroom and they gave me directions to get me back on course too. They couldn’t save me from having to re-climb that hill but it wasn’t as nasty as I had expected. Should you ever be near Warrenville hardware, please support them, we need places like that not to be gobbled up by conglomerates.

On to New Brunswick. Your comments really helped me navigate through some iffy sections and made it so much nicer. I did miss a sign for Old New Brunswick rd and hit New Brunswick rd. There, a woman raking her yard navigated me halfway back and a woman who overheard my asking a clueless gas attendant, got me the rest of the way back off a very busy road and into the Hoes lane vicinity.

After meeting my family, I crossed the parkway and screeched to a halt halfway across the overpass. Southbound consisted of three lanes of absolutely stopped traffic and two lanes at a snails pace. I took a picture and laughed like a loon. It’s freakin hot out here but I’d rather be riding than trade places with any of you!


After that things got quieter and more rural. Some of the roads seemed to go on forever. There was the perfectly placed Perrinville park port-a potty that came in handy. Later was a fruit stand where I stopped and bought 2 of the most delicious peaches(fresh picked that morning) that I had ever had.


I stopped at Walter’s recommended Wawa and stretched in the grass while I chatted with a cop in a patrol car. I filled my bottles inside and realized my cleat was loose again. There was a group of bikers there and I in my kit asked them in their tattoos if they had a Phillips head I could borrow. One of the biker chicks said, “Sure!” got up and got me hers from her sweet Harley. We chatted as I tightened my screws once again. She said she wanted to do more pedaling herself and of course, I encouraged her. She was at mile 150 for the day, I was at about 120. The Wawa was at Lacey rd. and pretty close to Lake Rd, which Chris got towed off of. I made my final mistake of the day on Lacey when the road made a right at an intersection and I went straight headed for rte 9.

30 miles from my destination, I ran out of daylight. Chris and Matt picked me up. I didn’t fail, I was thwarted by the heat, by directions, by equipment issues and by the shortening day. I rode 20 miles more than I needed to because of mistakes and missing signs. I persevered through unbearable heat that found me seriously struggling to pedal at 12 mph, I talked with a bunch of people all the way through the state and I toured some really great roads.

The places I was warned were treacherous were really not bad since I had a heads up. And in 120 miles traversing the sate I encountered:
One left turn in front of me. Not a close call because I saw it coming but I had to brake. Gave them the ‘WTF was that’ gesture. One yee haw(not to offend the yahoos) who just had to lay on his horn and zip around me to make a right onto a highway entrance ramp and 2 cars that passed just too close. Other than that, I had 120 miles of courteous, considerate drivers. Was it because I traveled with intention and took my share of the road? Who knows. I thought of those who won’t ride for fear of traffic. You’re missing out on some good stuff. Skill up and get out there.

The Zones
I’ll figure out what it all means later but I could feel myself recovering at 158bpm. My breathing was deeper and easier and I felt I could keep it there indefinitely. At 162 I didn’t want to keep the pace for long. My max was 179 and I don’t think I ever went anaerobic. If I did I certainly kept it brief as going the distance was the goal here, not killing myself. Garmin said my average HR was 143. I think it was much higher since I forgot to turn it off at those long stops. Also, I registered under 50 for the first hour until the sweat made the sensors pick up better.

The Performance
Well it could have been faster. The heat took its toll on me earlier on. I was humbled and beaten by noon. I kept on. The stop and go, the wrong turns, the phone calls and the pesty things were too many and really broke my rhythm. Once out, it took a while to get back into the zone. I had easy stretches for long times where I was rolling at 24 mph and climbing 3-5% grades then stretches where 13 in the flats took everything I had. It almost seemed to come in cycles. There were one or two times I considered making the pick up call, but not for more than a few seconds. In fact when they said they were on their way back for me I said, “I’m not done yet.” When the sun dipped below the trees and it got noticeably cooler, I was refreshed and ready for more. When it was nearly dark at 8:20, I was satisfied. There was nothing more to be done here. 7:40 am – 8:20 pm 12 1/2 hours. 128 miles. A minimum of 4 hours of very broken down time. I think of JDogs signature, ”We may not be good, but we’re slow.” No matter how you slice it, it was a hell of a day’s work.

The Bike
I couldn’t talk abut it before I did it, but after careful consideration of the options and consultation with Rob and Tony, I chose to take the Roubaix Pro. The bike may be corroding, it may not be. Specialized isn’t taking the chance. I risked it on the bike and it performed flawlessly. No numb hands. No flats. I wouldn’t have made it to Morristown on the Fuji. That many hours in the saddle, this is one amazing bike. The shorts, well… Thank god for chamois butter!

The Body
Lots of sweat. Prickly chills at one point, raw areas from mean chamois seams. No cramps, no numbness. Slightly sore legs. Not a bad toll considering.

The Food
Pre ride
Whey protein shake with almond milk
½ cup plain oatmeal w/cinnamon

During ride:
1 large apricot
1 blueberry bagel
2 peaches
2 flasks homemade gel
1 rocktaine by GU vanilla/orange - Bleeecccchhh!!!
Most of a pack of cranberry apple GU chomps – not bad at all
I downed ten 24oz bottles of water
Went through 5 packs of emergen-c
8 Hammer Endurolytes tabs

Post ride pig-out
1 apricot
½ slice rye bread
4oz ham
½ tomato sliced
¼ cup Mom’s potato salad
3 oreos
3 beers(a month’s supply)

Would I do it again?
In a heartbeat. But I’d rather do it on a pre-checked course.

What I learned about me,
I can do anything if I'm willing to put forth the effort. It might take a little longer than I'd hoped, but the opportunity is always mine.

__________________
August 18, 2009


The first detour


The traffic I didn't have to sit in.


The Perrineville Rd, Thompson Park Port a Potty


The Farmers market at Perrineville and Federal rds. Peaches picked each morning. The best I ever had. The farmer was very accommodating and insisted on washing them for me. As I was eating them I saw him going beyond the call of duty for each person that came in. As I washed up and prepared to leave, he was getting ready to go pick zuchinni flowers for another customer. Go there too.




Perrineville Rd was one of the nicest on the route. It went from Jamesburg and continued across rte 33 and into Perrinneville changing names a few times. It was fairly straight, reasonably well paved and quiet enough to really experience it. It begged for opening up and that I did. There was also an amazing sweet, slightly floral scent in the air for miles, maybe wild roses? It was also along this road that I spooked a deer(and she spooked me). She jumped and ran on a diagonal and almost into me before curving away. A safe distance away, she stopped and watched as I passed.

Really, Everything south of Jamesburg was relaxed and really good riding. Flat to slightly rolling, if you like the Great swamp, you'll love riding down here.

Oh yea, and that shot by the wildlife mgmt center, I took that to remind myself that it was so quiet there, the air seemed foreign, almost heavy. I heard no cars, no music, no planes, just the occasional chirp or a bird. Stupendous!

Always remember to bring a souvenir for the kiddies.


Alfred E. Newman wasn't a bit worried about the traffic near Great Adventure, but having to move across three lanes of exiting traffic at the Six Flags exit ramp just to go straight, I would have been petrified if I tried to cross it at a busier time.


Don't even thing of peeing in the woods here...



Finally here, slept just four hours and was awake and thirsty. I decided to see the sunrise. The moon was high in the shy and the horizon was just starting to lighten as I walked to the beach.


The first light of the new day.

Wish you could have seen it...

10/29/08 Decidedly cold and wickedly windy, this day was determined not to be quickly forgotten. A brutal headwind had me fighting in the flats like I was climbing a 10% grade. Then, almost rhythmically, a pat, pat, pat-pat, pat... rain. It came harder and I considered turning around. I was only 6 miles into a 30 mile route.

Left turn, commitment. I was out for as long as I could stand it. As if it heard my thoughts, the sky opened up and swarmed me in my first snow squall of the season. Stop ahead. Here I am, standing at a major highway crossing, waiting for the light to change. Drivers huddled shivering in their cars drive by looking at me in a light jacket, tights and gloves. How preposterous! Riding a bike in an October blizzard! I look up and let the snowflakes hit my face. I couldn't help myself, I laughed out loud. That was the moment everything changed...

Game on! Today, I forgot the Garmin at home and I couldn't care less. No speedometer, no heart rate or cadence, no training. I was one with the bike and had the weather as a ride mate. I worked hard, racing the wind, the weather. I thought of the people, the cyclists stuck in cubicles on this glorious day and I decided to enjoy every second of the pain, the joy and the cold for them too.

The snow stopped, the winds kept at their game of trying to knock me over and the skies... showed their glory. Dark mounds of blueberry ice cream clouds with tufts and ribbons of marshmallow icing dominated the sky except for the patch of clear blue summer sky elbowing to keep its space. I head for the hill. I love this bike. I love this life. I love this sport. An old man washing the leaves from his driveway with a hose raises his arm in the air and cheers me on yelling Go!, Go!, Go! I smile and tell him to get his bike and come along.

I battled my hill demons as the sky cleared and the sun beat down as if it were a July morning. I climbed solid and stronger than usual, completely fogging my glasses in the climb and sweating, despite the cold and my frozen toes, unzipped the jacket and jersey with the one hand I could spare.

Then, imagine all the infinite shades of peak fall color. A not too distant hill covered in oranges, red, bronze, fuscia, brown, crimson, melon, greens and yellows all lit and glowing vibrant in the late fall angle of the sun. Now, picture the entire sky framing the hill to be a turbulent, foreboding purple-gray with white whisps. Amazingly spectacular. I wish you could have seen it.

Down(my favorite side of the hill). Up the road that's a wind tunnel on a calm day, I'm almost standing still. Back across the highway. Tap, tap, ping! Tap, ping, ping, ping! Hail!! A little sting as they hit my face and legs. I tried to catch some on my tongue. I watch the balls of ice spring off my tights and headset and hear them bounce off my helmet. I remember it was only a month and a half ago, on the MS tour when it was so hot we poured water through our helmet vents and crammed the holes up with ice before leaving the rest stops. It's been a great year. Great fun, great places, great friends. I wouldn't trade any of it for a cleaner house, a manicured lawn or a neat attic.

The hail continued, sticking on the road and on the lawns. Having a blast, I smiled at it all. This is a glorious day! Then, in its final show of good humor, the wind blew the chattering ice balls at me sending them across the road in waves. I laughed again. A fall day. All the ways fall can be displayed in one two hour ride on a threatening day.

I wasn't caught sleeping this time. Carpe Diem!!!

Home at last and back into the swing of things.

I went out Thursday evening after diner for a few quick laps around the lake before dark. After the week in New York at a music festival and two weeks vacationing in Florida, I was feeling that my fitness, my strength, really slipped a few notches while I was off the bike. Before I went, so many people had said it was a good thing to rest. Some said I was riding too much and too hard and needed a break, but I had never felt that way. In fact, I feared that stepping back would break me and since I've been home, it has certainly felt that way.

I did a century on the third day after we came home, and though I had improved immensely over last year's time, the ride was a struggle from the beginning and I didn't even come close to what I had expected to accomplish. After a full week back, today, I was just starting to feel like I was getting it again and thought I was even at the cusp of improving. I had a light dinner and jumped at the chance to get some fast laps around the lake in before dark.

They weren't break-neck laps, but they were a good consistent speed and gave me the chance to open it up and see how I felt. In the flats, I felt good. In the hills, I felt as good as I ever had, and maybe just a tiny bit better. After the weeks of walking around Disney and other attractions, I felt like an old race horse given the reigns to run and breathe. I felt my blood, like the fuel line and injectors of a '58 Corvette, too long garaged, flow free and strong. I was ready for action again.

I went around the lake at a pretty good clip. It was so good to be out there. Each time I came around, a young man fishing on the one lane bridge would either step aside to make room for me, come off the bridge, or signal to me that a car was coming... he was looking out for me and elected himself a partner in my mission to burn as many laps into the road as I could before dark.

There were a few runners that shared nods as we passed. I knew what they were out here chasing and they knew what I was after... a simple glance and we saw in each other's eyes that we shared a common bond. It's funny, around here, how you see the people dedicated to their sport. Runners, cyclists, walkers, I have noticed that the true athletes look you in the eye to see if you have it too, just as I look for it in their eyes. The shared nod and knowing smile simply cements the bond

It's the beginners and those who are dong it for reasons other than the love of it that seem stuck in their iPods with their eyes straight ahead, who refuse to open themselves to contact. Maybe they don't have enough confidence in what they're doing. And maybe, they divert their eyes because they know we can tell what's inside of them.

I am a staunch proponent of helmet usage. I hate seeing people on wheels without head protection and I take every opportunity to remind others. But sometimes, it's difficult to make a point without building barriers. If my kids ride without helmets, they loose their bikes, period. But what do you say to a bunch of teens who are too cool to wear them? What can you say that they'll hear? Tell them, "Go put your helmet on!", Think that will work? Chances are, it will only provoke them to curse at you, if they haven't already.

So when I passed the group of teens fooling around on the hill on skateboards, tricycles and big wheels, I really wanted to tell them to put a lid on, but I held my breath and hoped they didn't get hurt. As I came around at the end of my first lap, the kids have traveled @ 100yards. One looks at me and says, shocked, "Did you just ride around the lake in like 5 minutes?" I said, "It's the helmet. Helmets make you go faster." With any luck, the message will hit home.

The second time I passed them, they had moved maybe another 100 yards. I said, "It's more like 7-10min a lap." The one boy whoops and gives a power sign. Next lap, another 100 yrds or so and another power, which I send back. The next time is the last as it's getting dark. I get another whoop.

A fun night, I wished I had more daylight to play with.

Sunday night, my son comes home from the beach with sparkling eyes and a big grin. He says, "Bryce told me that you passed them 5 times while they were walking home the other night. He said, 'Your mom is really fast!'" Matt is clearly pleased and proud. When does this happen? A teen is proud of his mom? He comes home pleased that his friends know who she is. He's not embarrassed of the lycra-clad overweight old lady racing around like a goon on a bicycle? We better make a note of this one, it may never happen again!!

On Labor Day he decides to come out on an easy ride. I lead a recovery ride that is a perfect pace for new riders and those that are riding for pleasure and a bit of fitness, not to race. Because of the holiday, it's only me, him and a new lady who says she's 78. It's a lovely ride. After the first hill he asks if he can ride ahead on the next hill. I say, "Of course!!" on the next hill, Lilly and I are already at the top as he drags himself in and says he nearly threw up on the climb.

It was too tough a hill, but it's not fair to him, since I'm a skilled rider, Lilly has been riding for years and he's out here for his first longer than 10 mile ride. He put in 28.8 miles and had a good showing of it. I am very pleased with his performance. So he's limping a little now, he'll get over it, and maybe he'll find he really likes cycling too.

Tri-State Trek: Day Three

Morning again and another day of pedaling.
Shower, pack the gear, say a prayer because today, especially, I'll need all the help I can get.

I did awaken once at 12:45, it's strange how time warps when you're at the brink of exhaustion, I was sure it was near 5am. Awake again at 3:30 am, hungry because at dinner last night, I couldn't swallow more than a splat of steamed mushy 'vegetablahs', a bit of salad and half a dry chicken breast with fake BBQ flavor at the dinner, then one Sam Adams and most of a guilty pleasure mocha mousse thingy... wait, Guilty? No, at that point I needed every calorie I could force down.

So, I'm hungry now and I know the drill, there will be no breakfast for me and no more sleep if I can't quiet the grumblings. I make a double strength protein shake in water in my bottle, drink half and go back to sleep. 4:45 alarm. Finish the shake, clean and refill both bottles with fresh water and an envelope of Emergen-C Lite with MSM, my answer to sports drinks.

I hoist my gear and walk my bike out, turn in my key, hand off my packs at the truck and carouse the breakfast table. The usual milk, cereal, bagels, muffins, PBJ, bananas, apples, plums, not for me, then success... cantaloupe, yum, solids! Eating is such a challenge for me on rides. It's almost amazing how far you can go on little to no fuel and baffling how well my body still conserves it's more than ample reserves. Sometimes I wonder how much stronger I would or be if I could eat the typical fare. Or, would it drag me down even more? It certainly has an effect on me when, like with the pickles and gatorade, it's trying to climb up my throat.

I roll at 5:55am alone. It starts with a bunch of climbing, not my strong point, but this is supposed to be the real challenge of a day. The thought crosses my mind that I can walk the hills, and the voices start discussing the point at which I'll bail until I remind myself that I haven't walked a hill yet and I shut the voices out like a slamming door. You let those voices and doubts creep in and they can worm their way into your muscles and suck out every bit of energy.

The whole ride is a strange beast, a bit like a dance. This dance is like that of streetlights on the windshield seen as a child in the back seat of the car. There's the constant soft whoosh of the road and the wind punctuated with the touch of the approaching street light on the glass. It reaches out and softly connects. While the light is with you, it is a comrade, a friend with a heartfelt connection on this lonely road. As it steps off the back of the car it wishes you well and even gives you a little push.

Similarly, there are times when you ride with someone and chat and make friends on such a deep level because you're in this awesome fight together. You talk about your reason for being here, about the people you're carrying all these miles, about those names that are in your heart and written on your back. Then, there are so many long roads alone. But that's not a bad thing, it gives time to think and reflect, to overcome self limitations, to plan for tomorrow and it makes meeting with the next cyclist and hearing their story even more of a pleasure.

I rode through such beautiful forested roads with inviting streams and cool canopies overhead that made me wish I had my mountain bike to explore them. I appreciated the view from the road though, because I could take in the entire picture rather than being focused on the small things like making the next turn and avoiding slamming into trees. Then, a whoosh overhead as a huge spotted hawk chased by a small blackbird crossed the road almost close enough to touch. Breathtaking. It also reminded me of a similar route the day before when a small crow played with me for most of a mile as he rode just ahead of me along the thin line of sky where the canopy almost touched as it reached across the road. I smiled to think it held the spirit of another soul visiting to encourage me on.

Today, I am surprised. I have ridden over 200 miles and I still have energy. I haven't felt overburdened by the climbs or the lack of rest stop fuel. My homemade goo is certainly doing it's job through this entire weekend since I haven't touched the Hammer gels I bought for emergencies. And I haven't hit that syrupy point today when it's all a slow, sticky effort.

I'm not saying it was easy. I battled knee pain most of the day that I was really scared would knock me out of it. The butt balm was never enough, my hands were numb, my feet edged on cramping, there was a pull in my right achillie's... but somehow, I was still stronger. We did 6500 feet of climbing on the day we were most apt to fall apart and I did better than ever. I kept waiting for the Berkshires and the hill the described as a 'walker'. I found some tough ones, but not the big one. It was hot and I was slimy and sweaty like a slug. I'd long since gotten over the idea of feeling fresh and clean and searched out sprinklers to stand in and poured ice water through my helmet and down my back every chance I got. I was filling up with water at rest stops and sag vehicles in between. I was slathering on the butt balm thick whenever I could find it but it was never enough. Once you start to bleed, healing doesn't come overnight. And I was on the endless search for salt. I ate most of a snack bag of plain chips since it was the only source(no that wasn't good at staying down either) at the next stop I ate just the salt from a bag of pretzels and threw out the rest.

Refill, rinse, repeat.


I see fewer and fewer cyclists on the roads and smaller groups at the rest stops. SAG vehicles slow and ring cowbells as they pass and watch for the thumbs up before riding off. More SAG cars are passing carrying two and three bikes on each. Each bike means a rider who couldn't continue for one reason or another. And I'm still in it. At 250 miles, I saw a green sign... Welcome to New York... the tears burned in my eyes.

It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I made it to new York. I made it to New York!!! Dear God, I may actually finish this thing. I took a picture with my cell phone and tried to keep from crying as I thought of Eric and how he'd give anything to have the chance to ride a bike again, to experience the thrill of sailing downhill and the struggle and accomplishment of climbing up a hill. I thought of the people who have lost their battle to this disease and the people who are still fighting. I thanked God that I had been fortunate enough to meet Eric and for his support when I was crazy enough to start cycling and to start it with a 100 mile fundraiser for MS.

I most appreciated Eric because I took strength from his battle with ALS to wage war with my MS and stop it from holding me down. Though I did this ride for Eric to, in a small way, thank him for the simple thing he did that changed my life. His unfailing good cheer and encouraging words helped me stop worrying when I would be debilitated and just learn to love and appreciate the life and gifts I had. I did this ride for ALS, but I am certainly the lucky one and the one who has taken the most benefit from all this. Since beginning cycling, I have never been healthier. I have more strength and stamina and fewer MS symptoms than anytime since my diagnosis 21 years ago. And... I've had more fun than I can shake a stick at.

Thanks to all of you who have donated to this great cause(contact me if you still want to donate) and many thanks to my family again for allowing me to do this crazy stunt, to accomplish the impossible.

Last year, I said I would start leading rides to encourage more people to get out there with me and now, I have three scheduled rides every week for people of differing abilities. We're out there all the time and would love to have you join us. This year consider joining Sandie's Chain Gang and let's ride for MS in September. Just ask, I'll get you the details. Remember, I was a couch potato and trained for it in 3 1/2 weeks, I know I can get you ready too!

I almost forgot!!
The hill that everyone was telling me was a walker, the climb that had up to a 22.2% grade was lined with cheering crowds that screamed so loud it hurt my ears, they wrote in the road with different colored chalk, section by section all the way up the hill, "You can do it", "You are almost there", "Keep pushing", "You've got it now", "You did it!!" and "You're Badass!"....
I climbed the entire thing.

That's right, I am BADASS!!!!


for the geeks: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/6309966

Tri-State Trek 270 miles of pain for very good reason.

The drive to Boston.

We hit some maddening traffic coming in.
Hartford, they don't just pave the road, they close the road down to one lane then hold all the cars back till the pavement cools.

The moon was taken from one of those unreal realistic paintings where the lines of gold and white cross in front of it as if it were painted by horizontal brushstrokes.

Meanwhile, the kids bickered in the car. And why do I want to drive them to Florida? At this point, I really don't even want to be in Florida with them or anyplace else if you know what I mean.

Day 1 completed. Woo hoo!!!!

Rough start. 3 1/4 hrs sleep.
Protein shake for bfast. Confusion at check-in, Got out of the gate DEAD FREAKIN' LAST!! Seriously. They were packing up the port-a-pottys. Missed first turn by 2 miles. Back tracked. And caught a couple dozen people.

With the lack of sleep, F-ed up start and only running on a 3-carb protein shake, I bonked(again) from 20-40 miles. And it was HOT out!!! Really hot.

Oh yea, my month old Garmin. Lost it. So I can't really prove that I rode 100 miles today.(but then I can also lie about how well I did) That sucks. (My family found it in the car and delivered it tonight on their way home from day in Boston-Yea!!!) Miles of real crappy roads in Mass. Jersey, you don't have much to complain about. Sweet rollers through Connecticut. More Ct. tomorrow. Then UGH the Berkshires! I've been hearing such miserable things about the last day of the ride that it would scare me to death except that I've resolved to just get in there and do my best. Tomorrow, they say, is the best and easiest day of the tour.

One of my MTB pals suggested that pickle juice is good and that I should drink it. Well, the half sour deli dills tasted fantastic, but they refused to stay down. They churned in my stomach and made me feel quite ill for nearly 20 miles until I hit the next rest stop. Finally and greatfully, they made a fast exit at the base of a tree at the next rest stop.

Ya know, on long hard rides, I've found I can only eat tuna salad with no bread, no fruit xcept melon and my homemade goo, but the pickles sounded so good!

It was so hot it zapped all my energy for most of the day until lunch. Then, I poured ice water down my back and over my shoulders and chest. It hurt SO good. Got my power back and was ready to rip up the course, but the guy that stuck with me through my bonk(a self-appointed guardian) bonked big time and I just couldn't leave him to die on the side of the road. I was hoping he'd give it up at the rest stop, but he kept pushing and finished as I pulled him for 50 some miles.

Definitely not my best time on a century, not my worst either, but since I didn't spend it all today. I'll put that Garmin to use tomorrow.

Day 2 Nothing easy about it.

Yes there were a bunch of nice downhill runs early on, and I forgot to set the Garmin until I was about ten miles into the course. Rest stop 1. I needed more water and Dear God!, I don't care what else they are a bit disorganized about because they had special water bottles Filled with butt balm at every rest stop. AMEN!!! It was their most requested item :-)

When I had the chance to go online, I had looked at my road bike club's posts for the day and saw that rides were being cancelled in anticipation of extreme heat. HA!!! whimps(underbreath) I'm off to a 100 mile day and the trip to the coffeeshop is just too uncomfortable for these guys? Let me tell you about uncomfortable....

Rest stop two. I've gone the last ten miles in excruciating pain as my middle and second toes feel like they are being crushed in vise grips while they are curled under and cramping. It sends a shock through my toe around the metatarsal joint and halfway up my calf. It's so bad I can't enjoy the downhills at all. The only reason I climb is so I can blast down. People that ride with me know this well. In fact, my LBS owner who I ride with on our Saturday shop rides calls me "Downhill Demon" :-) So with these screaming feet, I hobble into the stop in agony, explain to the medic what is happening and tell her I need to support my metatarsal arch to alleviate the pressure. She looks at me and says "We don't do that kind of stuff. You need to take some advil and stop riding for the day." WTF? I signed up for 270 miles of pain and she thinks I'm quitting at mile 140 over less than a broken leg? Ha!! So I crammed a wad of gauze under the sockliner of each shoe to alleviate the pressure. It helped a while and I got off the bike and massaged the foot a couple times when it got really bad.

Wow some wicked big hills in the middle of the day. I crest one to a group of cheering supporters and ask for water, It's supposed to be around 97 degrees and I'm out of water. She fill my water bottle and offers Gatorade too. At first, I hesitate, then think "What the hell! If I can't afford a few drops of sugar after all this riding!!!

Next stop, lunch. Stick with what works... tuna salad and cantaloupe a couple chips for the salt. Back on the road. I start feeling a tad sick. It's 98 degrees. We're on pavement. I'm sweating buckets. I'm running a tad faster than a toad and it feels like I swallowed one. Then, Bwaap!! I lost it over my shoulder at 16 mph. Cool! Wow, that helped a bunch. Gatorade... Why did I drink the Gatorade? That happened a few more times, almost every 5 miles for 20+ miles. A few more stops for the feet. A lovely cruise along the bay, then WHAM!! we land in downtown New Haven. At first it seems great, then out of the blue an old beatup Jeep with a 30 something chick inside tries to take me out and run me into the curb. Congrats New Haven, 200 miles of competent drivers and the first total maniacal idiot I meet is in your city. Aren't you proud?

for the geeks: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/6308751

Kingdom trails

Ringwood

It's been a long time to catch up on posts and I'll get to these later

Stewart

It's been a long time to catch up on posts and I'll get to these later

Lewis Morris

Lewis Morris

I had gone on a pre-ride on the Sunday before the race, riding with a large group of people who really knew what they were doing. They basically left me in the dust. Evan was good enough to stick with me though.

I had met Evan earlier in the month and had a chance to ride with him briefly before the skies had opened up on us. He had a self-converted Cannondale single-speed MTB and had been wanting to try a Full Suspension bike so we traded bikes for most of the ride. Evan's bike was slightly smaller than mine and was very easy to handle. Riding with one gear was just fine. I didn't have to choose which gear to get in, didn't grind gears or drop the chain. It was simpler and instantly comfortable and that let me concentrate on just riding and handling the bike while Evan played with the FS bounce and 21 speeds.

Today, we stayed on our own bikes and toured the race course, occasionally running into other people from the big group. It was an enjoyable day, a nice ride. When we finished, we stood in the parking lot and chatted for a while.

Evan was toying with the idea of entering the race the following week, while I was definitely not. I "raced" every Saturday morning on the road chasing the shop team on their A ride. I wouldn't have anything left in me to race in the woods on Sunday, besides, I had just started riding a MTB anyway and racing is for people who are skilled, experienced and fast.

Then we spoke a bit with Jim as he was leaving from the group ride. Jim is unique with his distinct facial hair, ear pegs, tattoos and assorted piercings, all of which belie his mild, kind and generous manner. He asked if we were racing. Evan was unsure about his work schedule and I said emphatically, "No". I had no business racing a bike I couldn't quite handle, in a sport I had just started, on legs that would be surely tired. Jim insisted that I'd have a great time anyway and that I could do it 'even though'.

A suggestion is a dangerous thing. Just like last August when the idea of attempting a century gnawed at my brain for a week until I caved in and did it, so chewed Jim's words, "You can do it." By Friday, I had made my decision.

Sunday morning I woke early, had some eggs and oatmeal(the breakfast of champions, I had heard) suited up and off I went to the park. I registered, paid and rode up a bit on the beginning of the course and back to a bit of the end. Then it was time to line up. This was all new. Though I've always been inwardly competitive, I had never been in an organized race before and no organized sports since Soft Ball in the fourth grade. But training myself over the last year had taught me a few things about pushing myself beyond my limits, so the adrenaline rush was ready to kick in. In the back of my head, I heard words from Chris at the shop who had said, "Find the first or second person off the front of the pack and don't loose them."

We were amassed with my age group in the rear and there were a bunch of people ahead of us. They seemed to separate the men a bit better, but our group included all the beginner children and women. And, they were sending all thirty some of us out at the same time. There was no way of knowing who was who and who I was really racing against. I looked around and noticed lots of skinny people, all skinny people. Some time early in grammar school I got used to being one of the fat people in a crowd and I learned then not to let it set my standard. But when everyone else is fit, it can change your perception a bit. A sigh. Oh, well. I'll catch 'em on the downhills.

The whistle blew and we were off. A rough start in the back of the pack where wobbly riders knocked into each other and into me and nearly threw me off the bike. Then, off again, I found a hole and passed a few riders before heading into the bend down the path and through the stream where I got stuck in a virtual log jam of bikes. Right! Damn, knocked out of it already.

We untangled ourselves and started back into it, well behind the pack. Then we hit the hill. How quickly it stole my breath and burned my legs! I reminded myself that I was in it for the experience, that I didn't have any expectations of myself(though that was clearly a lie) and that it was okay to be worn the day after a 2 hr hammerfest. I ignored the voices of self-doubt and pushed on. I walked tiredly up the hills and got back on where I could. I jockeyed with a 12 yr old for position. I let her pass me on the hills as she was definitely faster there, and when I caught back up, I'd have to sit in behind her and wait for her to yield when she saw a good place to move to the side.

In one tight area, I clipped a tree and stayed upright even though I hit hard enough to snap off my plastic end cap and take a piece of bark in the bar end as a souvenir. I rode over slippery roots that threatened to toss me off the bike. They even troubled my young friend as she slid to the side and hit two trees one on either end of her handlebars. I was close behind and had to break and dab my foot down on a gnarly mass of twisted, exposed, slippery roots. It nearly did me in.

The girl insisted that she was fine and that her bike was undamaged. Fortunately, she was going very slow when she hit the trees, or she'd be hurt for sure. Shortly, the trail turned more downhill and I was off. That's when I started to have a little more fun.

I twisted and turned as the trail did, I climbed more of the inclines and reminded myself that I can sometimes climb better than I think I'm capable of. I seemed to get stronger as the route twisted and became like a roller coaster. I went down one hill that was rippin' fast and if it were on the road, I'd have milked it for everything it was worth. But, in the woods, I have a healthy respect for the trees and for their desire to not be hammered by metal, helmets and flesh. Admittedly, I used the brakes some.

When the trail tossed me onto a wider, open, gravel path, I knew it was close to the end. I took the rest of the speed from the last incline and pumped it up with some more juice to pass a few cheering cyclists on their pre-ride and pushed up past the scoring booth where the last incline snatched a bit of energy back from me.

How did I do?
Fantastic! I came in without a big crash. I finished the race and to my surprise, I managed to come in fourth, nearly 20 minutes ahead of fifth. Not bad for an "old bird".

Way back in February

My second trip to Allaire did nothing to squelch my desire to mountian bike. In fact, it made me even more interested.
Now, to find a bike. I shopped and shopped, trying to find an adequate rig within a minimal budget. I had connections with reps from two manufacturers and got so close to a dream bike at 1/3 of it's retail that I could smell it. But, like the shimmering cool blue lake in the middle of the desert, it wasn't really there when I jumped at it.

Major disappointment.

Then I came across a possibility in a used bike. A couple years old. Well used but not destroyed. The size... pretty darned close. Could it work? When I discussed it with the original owner, he, being about four inches taller than me doubted it would fit me. Undaunted, I had to see it. I guess he thought I was shorter, cause when I got out of the car, he seemed surprised and said it just might fit me.

I tested the bike on the road and it felt okay. Size seemed fair, but it did have a bunch of bounce. I decided to give it a shot and wrote my check with the agreement that if my shop guys thought it was too big, I could bring it back.

Cool!

Then, I got slammed with a second bout of the flu, this the 3 days of ache and ill stomach variety. So my son comes home from school, announces that the neighbor's dog that he walks after school is missing and he's gonna search for it. What?!! I get out of my bed, out of my jammies to go chase a fool kid who just ran off in the pouring rain on a freezing cold day on a scooter. Aches and all, I take one step out my front door and both feet fly over my head and I land straight across my tailbone on the edge of the step topper. Laying on my front path in a puddle on a sheet of ice, I'm amazed that I'm not dead, cause if I had hit my head instead of my butt, I would be. Well, it just added to the misery of the flu, back in bed I went. And I cried.

The injury and the weather kept me off bikes for 7 long weeks.

... and Insult.

I took a couple days off the bike to heal my sore behind and then hit the road again until I got an offer I couldn't refuse... Joe was meeting a group of regulars from Allaire(the cool place I had my "Lewis and Clark" expedition). He arranged for me to borrow his friend's wife's bike so I could really get a feel for MTBing with a bike that fit. After an evening of jamming with a bunch of close friends late into the night at Andrew's and a few of us camping out in the living room(cause it was more fun and it was halfway to Allaire anyway), I met Joe there. A quick fit to the bike and off we tucked into the woods. 13 guys and me. Joe said "This must be your fantasy, Sandie Reilly, all alone with 13 guys." I said, "No, my fantasy is more like keeping up with 13 guys."

We sped off into the woods and I stayed towards the front half of the pack. Swishing and swooping and crossing the road and keeping a pretty darned good pace until we stopped for the crazies to cross a log suspended more than 10 feet over a ravine... not for me today! I was searching my bag for my inhaler. I had forgotten to use it and breathing was getting tough, I was getting tired and my legs were screaming for oxygen. I couldn't find the inhaler. Apologizing, I told the guys I had to go back to my car for it. When we got to the lot, I insisted that the guys continue to ride and come back for me like 15-20min later when I'd have a better idea if I could continue or not. I'm really glad they did since 15 minutes of ripping the car apart was futile until I found it tucked in the corner of my pocket. How to feel like an ass?

Lungs opened up and back in the woods we went. More swoop and swish and lots of speed. What a blast! I was feeling my oats until I slid off the side of the path, clipped a tree and flew partly over the bars as the bike went down and in slow motion my face slammed into the dirt. Behind me I heard, "Ohhh!", "Jeez!!" and "Hold up!!" The air was suddenly heavy and silent. The thoughts they must have been thinking.... Tasting a tad of blood in my mouth and feeling a dull swelling I stood, turned to the guys and said. "Alright, I got the first fat lip, who wants the next one?"

That got a good laugh. The air was back to light and easy and we continued on for miles of twisty fun where I joked and poked at some of the guys and they at me. I had a great time!

I got to get my head around and over things I would not have thought possible. With a loaner bike that fit fairly well, I rode over a bunch of logs I never would have attempted on my soon to be replaced 1988 rigid and I felt capable... like I could really get the hang of this MTB thing.



Bryan rode behind me for a good deal of the time, encouraging and keeping me from getting lost. He was the one who saw me ride across a planked bridge that curved. As I rode across it I knew I was really, REALLY close to the edge and I didn't look down, just ahead to solid ground. When I got to the other side, it was one huge adrenaline rush!!! I said, "Man! that was close!!" Bryan said, "I didn't want to say anything, but half of your tire was off the side of that bridge." (I don't think I EVER want to be that close again) There was a log mess I cleaned towards the end, he yelled "NICE!" That was so cool! And the last run of downhill through what felt like a chute... I LOVED ripping through it and getting air every chance I could!!!
I had a great time.

This roadie went over to the dark side, and she wants to stay :-)
Now, I just gotta get a bike!

Later that week, the thick throat and chesty cough left over from not using the inhaler when I should have revealed itself as a nasty case of the flu. It caught me off guard and knocked me into bed for three days.