Josh Billings Runaground - 2010

TCC sent six of its members to Stockbridge, MA on September 12th for the 34th Annual Josh Billings Runaground. The race is the second oldest relay race of its type in the U.S., with an unbroken streak dating back to 1977. The event includes a 25-mile mass start bike race followed by a 5-mile paddle and culminated by a 10K run that finishes on the scenic grounds of the Tanglewood resort.

The seed for the 2010 event was planted in my head several months ago when Dave Jacoboski sought me out to be his cohort on a two-man relay team. Dave’s plan was that he would do the bike leg, then we both would canoe, and then I would run the last 10K. Perfect, I thought - I haven’t run a step in two months and I have not been in a canoe in 10 years – I’ll be well rested for both events. Dave’s chosen name for our team, “No clue what to do”, was reassuring.

Neither of us had a serviceable two-person water-craft, so I sought out a boat from Sue Audette of the Columbia Canoe Club. She had an ancient Jensen racing canoe made of Kevlar (same stuff they use for bullet proof vests). Weighing in at a meager 30 pounds and possessing a set of sensual hydrodynamic curves, this boat was designed for one thing – going really fast in a straight line. All other attributes, such as comfort, maneuverability, and balance come a distant second. Staying upright in such a craft is akin to keeping your feet in your bike pedals when your forward progress halts at a stoplight. I’d done some canoe racing in high school with my father, but that was in the good ‘ol days when we raced the same boats we used for bass fishing.
Dave and I decided we’d better see if we could keep the boat upright prior to race day.

We headed out to Mansfield Hollow for a test drive. After paddling around the reservoir more or less successfully for a half hour, we decided we’d try our Le Mans starting technique whereby we would run to our boat parked on the shore, pick it up and sprint to the water’s edge, quickly plant ourselves in the skinny seats, and power onto the course. Before a small army of spectators assembled at the Boat Launch, we zipped into the water and headed out to sea at a smart pace. This all ended abruptly when we got a little wobbly, Dave grabbed the gunwales (a canoeing no-no), and we both took a trip into Willimantic’s drinking water supply. The crowd cheered wildly, we sheepishly swam back to the shore, and declared to all assembled that we were now race-ready. I told Dave not to grab the gunwales again and threatened him bodily harm should he disobey this order.

The week before the race Dave had made a tactical error by sending TCC member Kathy Manizza (a woman he had never met) a picture of his rump adorned with his Expo Wheelman bike shorts and sporting the caption: “this is the last thing you’ll see as we go flashing by you”. Unbeknownst to Dave, Kathy has raced her canoe at the national level, and she and her partner/husband Ken were well positioned to spank Dave’s aforementioned rump.

Dave's Unfortunate Rump Shot, which was included with immature Trash Talk to Kathy Manizza prior to event

“The Josh”, as it is affectionately referred to by the participants, is unique for relay races in that it starts with a 400-person mass start bike race. Licensed riders are allowed to start in the front to help sort things out. When the gun sounds, it is a mad sprint right off the line. Speeds approach 30 mph in the first several miles before the course take a turn and heads up a hill at about the two-mile mark. The objective is to position yourself in a pack that is moving as fast as you can manage, and to not get dropped by that pack on the hills. Both Dave J. and Skip Kuzel, who was riding for another team, were victimized early in the bike leg when they got behind others who dropped chains or otherwise slowed down on the first of the big hills and prevented their ability to get into front groups. Both eventually managed to get into reasonably fast packs and headed toward the transition to the canoe.

Meanwhile, back at the transition zone, I had discovered another TCC’er, Amanda Lawrence, who had signed up as the runner for a team of folks she found on the Josh Billings website. Amanda has cycled the race three times and run it three times, making her the TCC veteran of the Josh. As I waited for Dave I saw Kathy Manizza take the handoff from Ken and saw Skip Kuzel make his handoff. Dave’s rump was nowhere in site as Kathy flashed by. Dave came in a few seconds later in about 75th place, and by the time we’d morphed him from a cyclist into a paddler at the transition zone we had probably slipped to 125th. Remembering the previous day’s unfortunate outcome, we placed our boat carefully in the water and started off cautiously. As our confidence grew we got into a rhythm – seven or eight strokes on each side before I yelled “hut” from the stern, the international utterance for “switch sides before we go in a circle”.

The boat course makes two trips around “Stockbridge Bowl” before the transition to the run. Dave and I were pleased with our paddling prowess, weaving our way through 25 or 30 slower boats during the five mile voyage and avoiding (mostly) collisions with our fellow competitors.

On one or two occasions as the boat got wobbly, Dave considered grabbing the gunwales again. As is the custom in canoe racing, Dave got a strong dressing-down from his stern-man to dissuade him from this temptation – KEEP PADDLING, YOU DOG! Kathy was competing in a solo racing kayak, which we had no hope of catching, so although I saw a lot of Dave’s rump from the stern position of the canoe, his promise to show Kathy his back-side was not realized.

As we completed the canoe leg and came into the transition to the run, I hopped out of the boat and grabbed my running shoes and socks, which I had strategically stowed in a large Ziploc bag with a towel to keep dry. As I pulled the bag from the boat I was disheartened to see that the “waterproof" Ziploc bag was half full of water and the contents were no drier than the shoes I’d just waded ashore in. Undaunted, I changed into my sodden New Balance’s, and hit the running course.

Transitioning from the canoe, where your legs are all curled up in the boat, to the run, where they are expected to propel you powerfully over the tarmac, is a cramp-laden challenge that any triathlete can appreciate. With leaden thighs, I trudged onto the course, competing against the three and four-person relay teams that were using fresh runners untainted by having already done the bike or canoe legs. I had aspirations of catching Ken from the Kathy and Ken team (and showing him my rump), but this was not to be as Kathy had kayaked her way to an insurmountable margin. The 10K running route goes around the Stockbridge Bowl on rolling roads and then up a nasty one-mile hill to the finish on the grounds of Tanglewood. I pushed through the run, passing another 10 or 15 people, and turned into finish stretch in time to see 2:59:50 on the finish line clock. Pretending that breaking three hours actually meant something, I sprinted across the line five seconds ahead of that lofty goal and found out to my shock that no one really cared.

The Josh Billings organizers stay up late at night concocting creative racing categories. The result is that the race has an amazing 35 categories, and lots of people walk away winners. Of the TCC members present, Dave and I won the two-person canoe category (out of 13 in our class), Kathy and Ken won the two-person mixed kayak category, Skip won one of the relay categories, and Amanda’s team came away with a second in yet another category. Now that we’ve tasted the sweet nectar of victory, it’s going to be hard for Dave and me to stay away next year. I’ve already suggested to Dave that he not send Kathy any inflammatory e-mails or rump photographs prior to next year’s event.

Dave and John heading into the Berkshire sunset with their victory mugs.

TCC TFCE Fast and Furious 2010!

And here's my contribution to the TFCE blogging. I had a WONDERFUL time! It was great to see everyone, and gather at the port-o-potties for the requisite photos. Christian was sporting a new, only mildly beer-related jersey from a Belgian rock festival. We got in a few good shots and then all rolled out together. As we were in the first mile or two, I began to feel a bit antsy. I saw Christian roll ahead and confer with Ron; it turns out he was telling Ron he was feeling spirited and that he wanted to motor ahead. Once he did that, Amy decided to do the same thing; in my antsyness, I caught her and hopped on her wheel and attempted same. Before too long Ray had caught up and we had Christian in sight, and then Jim came along for the ride. Until the first rest stop, I think I had the ride of my life, matched only by triathlons and the crits I did this summer. I chased as hard as I could, alternating between chasing whoever was there, Amy and Ray. Up to the first rest stop, our average speed was between 18.5-19.5 mph! When I saw that staying with Christian meant maintaining a constant heart rate of around 85% max, I decided that it would not be prudent to shoot for this for 100 miles. Turns out that Christian had more legs than, well, any of us that day...so we let him go. Occasionally we'd see him in the distance hauling whole groups of hopefuls up the hills, and we did hang with him at every rest stop. Ron had stayed back and we found out that he'd ridden ahead of the B group and hung with a bunch from East Granby. He caught us at the first rest stop. So the rest of the journey included me, Ron, Amy, Jim, and Ray. I was determined to PR on this course, which led to some interesting shifting techniques; 3x this meant shifting completely off my gears. I finally figured out what I was doing wrong and it stopped happening. After that rest stop, it was a better ride because our little group decided to stay and work together. We took alternate turns pulling, having varying levels off spitfire. Ron certainly did his share; when I fell off the back a couple of times Jim was the gentleman that brought me back. Ray was absolutely a motor and would often take over for Ron when he got tired. Amy performed valiantly despite some back pain and having fewer miles than she'd hoped for this summer. We rode together and paced together, banked corners and accelerated out of them. Everyone was riding very well! This course is clearly much flatter than we are used to in NE CT, but there are its share of false flats, and by the end of it my altimeter read 3500 feet of climbing (1100 feet more than the Princeton Freewheelers Century). Lovely homes, beautiful countryside. Rose hip fruit was very apparent right by the beach; I always look for it. Mile 72 was a very loooonnnggg rest stop because we were working so hard, there was a whole lotta stretchin' goin' on...and then I just had to stop at Gray's and get the Mile 72 Coca Cola! It's UNBELIEVABLE how well that works. When I arrived at the finish I felt like I had money in the bank. After that Coke I would take pulls, Ron would bark at me to fade out, I'd stay at the back, and then we'd hit a rise and I'd be slowly making my way to the front....and then felt I ought to offer another pull! Everyone was very patient (I think) during the fixing of my 2 flats; I actually sliced through a brand new Michelin tire and needed the ol' dollar bill repair! I was so impressed with how strong everyone was riding and how well we all worked together. When I admitted I wanted a course PR everyone pitched in and helped! I was hoping to finish over 18 mph but we were just shy of it...I got 17.77 avg on my computer. This is the 2nd fastest century I have done; the first was 2009 PFW at 19.1! Oranges, bananas, PB&J, gatorade, these are the stuff of cyclists' weekends. At mile 72 we saw a group that had this purple Cancer Sucks t-shirts, who were riding in support of a friend who couldn't ride that year, and they were planning to visit him after the ride. Ray, Ron and I had to refuel in Seekonk on the way home for a Starbuck's celebration. Why do I have to watch calories, and Ron can get a Venti Java Chip, full fat with whip cream and a shot of espresso? How is that fair??? So I enjoyed my nonfat, decaf pumpkin spice latte, and Ray his Vivanno protein shake. A great time, a great ride, great camraderie...you couldn't ask for more!

TFCE 2010-B Riders

It was an epic day for four TCC B riders...Karen, Doug, Donna and Eric completed thier first century rides!
As per usual the TCC group met by the port-o-potty line at lot 7...it was a cool morning and the sun tried to peek through, but was absent for the remainder of the day. While we all took off together, we let the fierce and fiery group of Amy, Jim, Christian, Ray, Fran and Ron ride off our front, they were setting pace made for them! As they rolled out of sight, Donna had the only mechanical difficulty of the day...a flat. Tammy and I adjusted our layers, Eric set the pace and we headed off. I was not really ready for this century. I hadn't ridden as much as I had in previous years and felt it; my companions however, were riding their usual strong rides.

The Fantastic Four(above mentioned) started as novices on Scott's beginner rides last season and progressed quickly up the TCC alphabet. Eric and Donna started leading B rides, Doug was getting broke in on C, B and B+ rides! Karen and Dave, our resident tandem team could be seen at Ron's spin classes during the past winter and were soon showing up on for Spring rides, long and short! Tammy made up the rest of our group; a seasoned hill climber with four centurys this year, including an Adirondack Tour...this little flat century had her dozing, I think!

The first 50 miles were uneventful, really. This portion of the tour heads north and then west, wending through mostly residential areas...nice homes,plenty of stone walls and long grades. Neon-garbed Dartmouth police collecting overtime helped us through intersections...nice touch. Well, I started to bonk, big time...as I said I am not the rider I was last year and anything resembling an uphill grade was sending me towards the single digits. My great companions waited up for me periodically...showering me with GU, bonks, chomps, nuts, and mysterious powders which looked like a score from the north end of Hartford ( great line, I stole it from Eric)! I took 'em all!

The second leg of this journey follows the southern shoreline of RI. Beautiful scenes of Long Island Sound, sailboats and really expensive homes abound; pretty typical shoreline communities. The intersections started to blur together: neon cop, lefthand turn, tree, house, cornfield...the sky was growing grayer as the miles ticked by and the headwind was present all the time. As I rode down to yet another left turn, Tammy and Doug were hanging out, waiting for me. Donna and Eric had ridden on...they were on a PR mission and I was glad to hear they'd done so. At this point I'd lost track of the tandem. We had 20 or so miles to go and I was just counting them down...Doug and Tammy were still riding strong and I was hanging close...this last part of the century is quite scenic...corn fields, vinyards, and fields of veggies interspersed with pleasant looking homes surrounded by tall stone walls.

A spit of rain fell from the darkening sky, but never developed into anything more. By now I knew the tandem was behind us, but knew they were keeping each other company. We three took turns leading, along the shoreline and across the bridge by the big marina. Last year when I rode this century, the sun was shining and this was beautiful. I felt pretty good, (must have been that white powder!) and we all finished together. We hit 100 miles in the access circle and that was that. We found Donna and Eric at the registration area...they had 16.5 avg...A wonderful PR...Doug and Tammy had 16.3avg and I came in at 15.5...Karen and Dave were still back and we never connected with them...we'd no idea where their car was, but were confident they finished strong!

Scott Johnson's beginner ride is bringing some excellent riders into the club. While these centurys belong to each rider, I feel compelled to give him a great shout-out for his energy and enthusiasm each Saturday morning! Thanks to him I got to ride with Doug, Karen, Dave, Donna and Eric, all new and excellent cyclists.

And always a pleasure to ride with Tammy!

Mad River Century - 2010

Photo: Team Tammy at the Start in Waitsfield

TCC was proudly represented at the Mad River Century on August 28th by over 20 people with a tie to the club. The event, now in its 20th year, is an annual tradition for many of us. Alan Chasse has done the event something like 19 times, and many of the rest of us are now pushing double digits. The Century is put on by "The Hideaway", a local restaurant that figured out a few years back that people would be willing to pay for an organized ride sprinkled with good food before, during, and after the event.

The weekend starts out on Friday night with a pasta fest at the restaurant. Most of us rolled in between 6:00 and 7:00 and spent an hour or two carbo loading before finding our way to local hotels to sleep off the gluttony. We assembed as a group at 7:45 for a few photos and by 8:00 we were ready to head out in two groups. Team Tammy consisted of its namesake, Tammy Walesczczyk, as well as Beth Hankins, John Jackman, Dave Burdete, Rob Yost, and Bill Penn. Their mission was to ride a steady solid pace line and work as a team to lay down the fastest average they could.

Our second team, which I dubbed the Ontario Express, consisted of my high school buddy Adrian Zahl (now from Ottawa), Barry (another Canadian), and a cadre of people that ride our A-Group including yours truly, Eric Anderson, Alan Chasse, Dave Jacobowski, Chris Stoltze, Phil Forzley, and Marty Spallone. Our goal was to demonstrate to the world that even fat people over the age of 50 can average 21 mph at Mad River.

The ride starts in Waitsfield, VT and heads north on Route 100 toward Montpelier. The first 25 miles to Montpelier are gently rolling but more down than up. The Ontario Express got to work quickly, and picked up a couple of racers from the Green Mountain Bicycle Club along the way. We realized the pace was quick, but were a little suprised when we arrived at the first rest stop at the State Capitol lawn in Montpelier with a 24.0 mph average. A few minutes later Team Tammy rolled in, with smiles on their faces and 20.5 on the odometers.

After peeing in the same urinal as the Governor of the Green Mountain State, we were back on our bikes for a 35 mile ride down Route 12A to Bethel. Speeds dropped somewhat as we realized that none of us had the legs to continue our initial sprint. Beth and Team Tammy limped in a little while later. Beth had broken her rear shifter cable and had been riding in her 12-tooth cog in the back for 15 miles. Dave Burdette had broken one of the 16 spokes on his rear Rolf Wheel and his brake was rubbing badly - he hadn't really noticed this, because he is Dave Burdette. Alan and John Jackman completed some speedy repairs and all hands (and legs) were back in business.

Photo 1: Phil Forzley at the State Capitol

Photo 2: Alan fixing Dave's busted spoke

The third leg of the ride cuts back west and heads up a river valley on Rte. 104. This section leads back to Rte. 100, where the ride turns back north toward the point of its origin. Route 100, which takes you from about the 70 mile mark to the finish line, has been deteriorating for several years and has become a difficult road to ride with potholes, crevasses, and all manner of busted up pavement. We soldiered northward - slightly uphill and watching the average speeds drop steadily. At the rest stop at the 75 mile mark we ran into Steve Yau, who had originally been caught in no-man's land between the two groups but had missed the second rest stop and ridden about 50 miles without a break (ouch). We also ran into club members Todd O'Keefe and Lou Blanchette, who were riding together and looking forward to the only large hill of the ride - Granville Gap.

Granville Gap comes at about the 85-mile mark of the ride and consists of a 2.5 mile hill, which is gently sloping at the base and then kicks up a couple of times more sharply near the top. It is the official Big D___ climb of the ride, although Beth claims that TCC women do not participate in Big D___ contests. Teamwork rules are suspended and the slug-fest is on for the duration of the grade. About three-quarters of the way up the hill I decided it was looking like I'd be this year's champ. Seconds later, my 51-year old high school classmate Adrian sprinted by me like I was on a 45-pound Huffy and I limped the rest of the way to the top. We gathered the group at the top of the hill, saw that our average had dropped to 21 mph, and headed down the other side of the hill determined to keep it over 21. The last 10-miles of the ride are downhill or flat, and allow you to add a few tenths to the average. We pressed on to the finish in Waitsfield and recorded 21.6 mph as determined by Alan's official computer (he stops it whenever we're in a town going less than 10 mph). Team Tammy showed up at the finish a while later with a very respectable 19 mph average. They'd ridden as a team the entire way and in many stretches other groups pasted themselves onto the back of the group, realizing what a steady and strong pace Tammy and her crew were setting.







Photo 3: Chris, John, and Eric at the top of Appalachian Gap

To put an exclamation point on the day, five of us continued up Appalachian Gap - a 7-mile 1500-foot climb from Waitsfield to give ourselves 120 miles on the day. Why? We still don't know, but it hurt.

A barbecue under a big-top completed a perfect riding day. We all slept well, and woke up Sunday for another annual tradition - a short bike ride over some covered bridges before heading home to the Nutmeg state. Rumor has it that they will be paving Route 100 next year. We'll be going back regardless.

Adirondack Trip Report

The Riders - Anna Hankins, Beth Hudson-Hankins, Dave Waldburger, John Jackman, Eric Anderson, John Hankins, Tammy Walesczcyk

Way back when the snow was still flying, several of us began hatching a plan for a bike trip to the Adirondacks. Seven TCC'ers met the challenge and left on July 31st for an eight-day sojourn, accompanied by John Jackman's skilled and generous wife Ione, who agreed to provide baggag transportation and emotional support using their family's really big pickup truck.

We kicked the ride off in Niskayuna, NY, a suburb of Albany. After being told by the police that there was no legal place to leave a vehicle overnight in Niskayuna, John ditched his blue Dodge Caravan in a Walmart parking lot, subscribing to the theory that Walmart does not tow stray vehicles in their parking lots. As we were leaving we saw a tow truck hooking up to another blue Dodge Caravan about 50 feet away. We believed this to be a good omen, as the odds that Walmart would tow two identical cars in a week from the same parking lot seemed quite low.

We started the first day with a leisurly trek up the smooth pavement of the Erie Canal rail trail, dodging hikers, joggers, and wobbly Huffies. After leaving the trail we hit the highways north of Albany. This first day was our least Adirondacky, and much of the trip was on busy roads, including one clearly labled "no bicycles". We steered our way through the metropolis of Saratoga Springs, and wound up in Glenns Falls at about the 45-mile mark where we spent the night in our first of four different Motel 8's.

Day Two (August 1) was Eric's BIRTHDAY. For this fabled occasion we tricked out his bike and presented it to him during the continental breakfast at the Motel 8. The ballons and crepe paper did not survive on the road terribly well, but the sparkly gold frame wrap and the lacy helmet cover both made it through the entire day. Tammy wrote up a "want ad" of sorts announcing Eric's bachelerhood, eligibility, and birthday status and pinned sewed this missive on his back. The announcement included an invitation to single women that read "you may hug and kiss me if you want to". Although he got no kisses, he did get a hug from an impressed woman at a donut shop at the ten mile mark.

Day Two took us from Glenns Falls up to Ticonderoga. Our route out of town headed West and into the first of the hills recognizable as Adirondack terrain (hilly!). In the village of Lake Luzerne we crossed the Hudson River and then followed a nice set of lightly traveled and relatively flat County roads up the west side of the Hudson. We discovered on this day that John's copyright 1987 New York Road Atlas did not accurately reflect the current route numbers. This created a fair amount of confusion among the riders and our driver, but between Ione's innate navigational skill and Dave's GPS-map enabled Blackberry we were (mostly) able to stay on our route (unless you were with John Jackman, in which case you got lost). The end of the day took us along the west shore of Lake George, a smaller cousin of Lake Champlain located south and a little bit west. Ticonderoga, our destination for the day, sits at the exteme south end of Lake Champlain and the extreme north end of Lake George. We celebrated this geographical oddity by stuffing seven of us in the cab of the Jackman's truck and heading to the Town Beach for a swim. Mileage for the day was just north of 80 miles.

At the Ticonderoga Super 8 we met up with Stephen and Seth, two brothers from Fort Wayne, Indiana, who were pedaling from their home town to Bar Harbor, Maine, with full packs. Taking pity on these poor souls, we invited them to dinner. They wolfed down a sufficient volume of pasta primavera to power them over Middlebury Gap in Vermont, their destination for the next day. They shared their blog with us if you'd care to view it: www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/brosonpatrol.

Day three was a scheduled 55-mile run from Ticonderoga to Lake Placid. We headed north on Route 22 along the west shore of Lake Placid. This section of road refuses to stay flat, and we rolled through a series of relatively steep (but generally short) ups and downs. At Crown Point we saw a sign for a FREE ferry ride across Lake Champlain to the Vermont side. This is the location where a bridge had existed until earlier this Spring. When engineers did an inspection they decided it was about to fall down, so they accelerated the process by blowing it up. We took a 10-mile detour from our route to catch the ferry over to Vermont and back. John Jackman headed to the bow of the boat at mid-lake to claim the State Line, his first of many cheap victories for the trip. A few miles north of Crown Point we came to Fort Henry, where we turned west away from the lake and into the heart of the Adirondacks. The grades out of the Champlain Valley tested all of us, with Eric's tilt-meter reading over 12 percent on some of the up-grades. The elevation of Lake Champlain is 95 feet. The elevation of Lake Placid is 1900 feet. Had we done the math before the ride we would have realized that our two-dimensional map failed to tell the whole story. Mileage for this day was about 65 miles, including the side trip to the ferry.

We stayed in Lake Placid for three nights to "rest" and see the sights. Our lodging in Lake Placid was a 1907-era hotel called "The Pines", with a big covered porch that we made into our home base for breakfast and general hanging out. On our first full day in Lake Placid, Eric, Anna, Dave, and I elected to celebrate our rest day by hiking up Mount Marcy, which at 5344 feet is New York's highest peak. It was a 15-mile slog, and we were greeted at the summit with visibility of about five feet. We did get to meet Julia the savvy summit steward, who regaled us with her knowledge of the geology (1.2 billion year old anorthosite that occurs only in three places on the planet) and the plants of the alpine tundra. We wolfed down some sandwiches and got the heck out of there before the weather deteriorated further. Meanwhile, back at the camp, our cohorts had discovered that they could watch practices of an international ice dancing championship at the Olympic Ice arena (for FREE). That first night we also discovered a wonderful folk concert in the park (for FREE), and we hung out with the locals eating Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Those of us that had hiked Mount Marcy felt the rigor mortis entering our legs, a condition that accompanied us for the rest of the trip.

On second day in Lake Placid we rented some kayaks from a shady guy with a hernia named Captain Marney, and paddled around until we got tired. Mr. Jackman showed his true colors by splashing anyone that got within 20 feet of his boat. After we returned to terra firma we went in different directions. Dave, Anna, and I headed out to the ski jump area, where we saw olympic skiing aerialist hopefuls launching themselves off astro-turf launching pads and flipping to and fro at heights up to 40 feet before crash landing in a swimming pool. Dave and I took the elevator to the top of the 120-meter ski jump, which is indeed quite intimidating. Eric went for a bike ride because he could not think of anything better to do.

Just as we began to get used to our new home at The Pines, it was time to roll out on our fourth day of riding - this one a 65-mile ride from Lake Placid to Tupper Lake. Eric had scouted out a fantastic back road the day before along the Au Sable River leading out of Lake Placid. This was one of the finest roads of the trip. Generally flat, perfect pavement, and twisting along with the river. At about the 15-mile mark we turned onto the Whiteface Highway, a dastardly section of pavement that heads up at about 8 to 10 percent up the lower reaches of Whiteface Mountain. At about 2 miles into this climb the road forked, with a toll booth on the left fork for those that cared to continue to the 4600-foot mountain summit. Although we had decided earlier not to ride up the mountain, Anna, Eric, and I could not help ourselves. We paid the 5 bucks each, shifted to a lower gear, and trudged upward. The road turned out to be not too steep, never exceeding about 8 percent or so (for comparison, Mt. Washington averages 14 percent). Nevertheless, we were staring at another 2300 feet of climbing after the toll booth on top of about 1000 feet we had done before the toll booth. At the 3800-foot level we rode into the clouds, and by the time we hit the top the visibility was about the same as what we had on Mt. Marcy. We lingered at the top only shortly, got a naked picture of Eric in back of the summit sign, and then had an exciting ride down, made more so by the bumpy pavement and 30 mph cross-winds that would occasionally push across the road.

The excursion to the summit put us about 90 minutes behind the rest of the group, which stayed ahead of us the rest of the day. This day featured a lengthy collection of county roads which I had mis-numbered on the cue sheet (thanks again to the 1987 atlas). Ione did a fantastic job marking the road with yellow chalk at each intersection to keep us going where we needed to go. We rolled into Tupper Lake at about 77 miles, where we stayed in a cute little set of cabins each sporting a thick accumulation of moss on the roof. Tammy was particularly impressed with the diminutive size of the bathrooms, which required that women sit side saddle on the toilet if they wanted to close the door.

Our fifth and penultimate day of riding was our longest, 115-miles from Tupper Lake to Gloversville. This day featured flatter roads, no big climbs, and lots and lots of lakes. In general, we were on lightly traveled State highways with wide shoulders. The wind was an ever-present friend or enemy depending on which way the road twisted and which way each particular gust decided it wanted to go. Some of the State Highways, particularly Route 10, were fantastic, with smooth winding pavement, no big uphills, a tailwind, and spectacular scenery. We stopped for lunch on this day in Speculator, NY, which I gave the award for the coolest name. The end of the day featured a long descent into the Mohawk Valley to Gloversville, which as you may have guessed was once the largest manufacturer of leather gloves in the world. We un-did our enormous calorie outlay for the day by heading to the Chineese buffet.

For our sixth and final day of riding we threw away the cue sheet and figured out a way to ride the entire 50 miles back to Niskayuna on rail trails and canal trails. The route was as flat as you'd expect it to be. The trails were generally paved with the exception of about 8-miles of well-manicured and very easy to ride stone dust. The 40-miles of Erie Canal Trail we did on this final day was just a small section of the Erie Canal trail system that stretches over 300 miles from Albany to Buffalo. Dave had done a tour of this previously and knew something about the trail. All of us enjoyed looking at the working locks on the Mohawk River as well as the abandoned locks on the original Erie Canal.

Ione met us back in Niskayuna, where we retrieved my van - no worse for wear during its week in the Walmart Parking Lot, unless you count the three pounds of pigeon shit on the windshield that resulted from parking under a light pole. Upon my arrival back in Mansfield I stepped on the scale to discover that the 440 miles I had ridden had resulted in a weight gain of five pounds - truly the sign of a great trip.

Memorial Day Ride

(Very late post...completely forgot to submit)

So Julia, my wife, says to me,"How'd you get that scratch on your back?" I laughed and replied, "Ron did it." She nodded nonchalantly, "He must be a good friend...."

It was a beautiful Memorial day morning when I arrived at North Windham school to head out for the ride.
Joe cruised in shortly afterwards. We talked beer jersey stuff (my favorite apparel) and soon after the rest of the crusaders arrived.

The A and B groups took off into Colchester. We started out with Joe, Eric, Chris, Ed, Phil, Dave, Amanda, and myself. Amanda was sporting her sexy new machine, and she looked way too comfortable on it. I think her fitting went very well.

Somewhere before we descended onto Route 207, we caught up with the B group. I am not sure why we "caught up with them", because I thought we were following the same roads and left ahead of them.

So as I passed my riding buddy, Ron, it is typical to offer a pat on the back, or some other gesture to let him know that I'm passing him and that I care about his safety. So, I goosed him.

Mildly shocked, since he probably hasn't had that happen on a ride in a while, he barked out a "Hey!!!". I continued to jam along 207 until we turned onto the road with the goat (who was recently "sent to the farm"- not sure if that is a happy ending), when I felt something grab my backside. At first I thought "Goat attack??", then I heard Eric A. say, "Your going to get in trouble with your group..." I heard Ron's voice say," I know...But this is why you wear bibs..." And then proceeded to pull my non-bib shorts past the point of the worst plumber's situation.

I guessed I asked for that and Ron and I chuckled when we caught up with each other at the store next to Starbucks in Colchester.

The 2 groups splintered again as we darted into the Hopyard. We had an opportunity to motorpace behind a car all the way through. It was very intense but exciting. I think Phil said we averaged around 30mph, but I kept both eyes on the car and hands on the brakes.

As we exited DHY, we proceeded onto Rt. 82 and turned left after 3.5 miles. I won't forget this next turn for a long time. We hit a wall called Brush Hill Rd. Steep and long and Eric said it had a part 2 as it plateaued then kept going up. We all hunkered down and slowly made my way to the top. We waited until everyone regrouped at the summit, then continued down, down, down Mount Archer. Scary steep; I felt I was on a roller coaster ride and I held my brakes all the way to the bottom- if I didn't, I'd be over 50 mph and in the hospital.

I eventually regrouped with the rest and we pacelined into Old Lyme where we watched the parade for 20 minutes. Lots of shiny fire trucks- lots of them. They must have a lot of fires in Old Lyme.

We found an ice cream shop where we ordered sandwiches. I inhaled as fast as I could and offered my chips to Eric. He looked really hungry still and I needed to fatten him up/slow him down (he was sprinting for town lines and got them all except for one- thanks, Joe).

The rest of the ride was lots of pace lines and good team work.

It was fun to have that synergy to make the ride seem to go by so quickly.

Thank you to Eric and Joe for setting a manageable pace, and everyone else for good camaraderie. 95 miles (Eric and Dave stretched it for additional 5 or so- my cramping legs said enough). 17.7 mph and 5048 ft. of climbing (my legs knew that already).

Christian

Mt. Greylock Century - July 10, 2010

For those of you looking for a vertical challenge, I think we found one. The Mount Greylock Century in the Berkshire Mountains has been a tradition since the 1970s and an event I have wanted to do since former TCC President Joe Groeger first mentioned it to me about 5 years ago. The route features over 9800 vertical feet of climbing, including a trip up (and down) Massachusetts' highest point, Mt. Greylock at an elevation of 3490 feet. Once you're done with Mt. Greylock, which is a Category 1 climb on the European scale, you're still faced with two Category 2's, a Category 3, and a Category 4. If you're looking to average 20 mph, this is not the route for you.

Photo by Dave Jacobowski: Expo Teammate scaling the Mt. Greylock switchbacks

This year's Greylock adventure included four TCC'ers - Skip Kuzel, Agatha Pohorylo, Dave Jacobowski, and myself. Showers had been predicted, which was enough to dissuade about half the normal riders to forego the experience, including the incomparably wimpy Mr. Jeffrey Buske, who was subsequently harangued mercilessly on Facebook. The skies grew grayer as we headed west on the Mass Pike toward Lee, and by the time we got to the starting point north of Pittsfield a steady rain was falling, a meteorological condition that would accompany us for about the first 70 miles of the ride.

We hooked up with Dave's Expo Wheelman group from central Connecticut for the first few miles of the ride, pedaling easily on a flat bike trail for the first 5 miles or so. Mount Greylock comes at about the 10-mile mark and climbs about 2300 vertical feet over 10 miles. While it is not a particularly steep climb, it is relentless, and I was happy to have a triple chainring. About halfway up the hill Mr. Jacobowski decided to show his stuff and headed in front of the group on a solo slow-motion breakaway, fighting the rain and a steady torrent of water flowing down the road in the opposite direction. I caught him about a mile from the top and he graciously awarded me the yellow jersey at the top, which in fact I was already wearing in the form of a yellow tyvek raincoat.

After composing ourselves with some chocolate chip cookies at the summit, we headed down the north side of the mountain, which drops much more steeply for about 2500 vertical feet. Because of the wet road conditions, we had to hang onto our brakes the entire way down with speeds on the straightaways of no more than 20 mph and no more than 10 mph on the switchbacks. We all decided this is a climb/descent that would be better done on dry roads. By the bottom of the hill, all of us were shivering, with Skip the worst for wear since his sense of machismo at the start required that he leave his raincoat in the car. We attempted to remedy our chills with a stop at the Family Dollar store in North Adams, where Skip and Agatha bought "rain ponchos" for one dollar apiece. They were essentially garbage bags with a neck hole and hood, but they did the job.

From North Adams we headed into the second climb of the day, a 5-mile 1000-footer up Route 2 to Whitcomb Summit. On the long descent off of the high point, we saw a sign announcing that the Hoosic Railroad Tunnel passed under the road at a depth of 1040 feet. We proceeded to drop all of that height, ending up at the low point of the ride at the 50-mile mark. As soon as we finished going down we turned onto East Hawley Road, which climbs back over 1000 vertical feet over a 5-mile distance. We all agreed that this climb was tougher than Greylock itself due to its steeper grades and the fact that we'd already done two major climbs. We got passed by two young whipper-snappers on the way up the hill and I gave chase for a couple of miles. Just when I thought they would succumb to my relentless pace, they cruised by me talking to each other and buried me in their wake. In a nod to their climbing prowess and youthful exuberance, I relinquished the yellow jersey for the balance of the day.

The event organizers had a nice lunch spread at the top of East Hawley Road and we re-energized ourselves with peanut butter and jelly bagels and pasta salad. After lunch the demeanor of the ride changed somewhat, with no more enormous climbs but lots (and lots) of smaller equally steep climbs. Judging from the vertical profile on the website, there were six or seven additional climbs of 200 feet or more, which led us to coin the slogan of the day, uttered by one of us somewhere on each twisty uphill "But wait, there's more!".

The rain let up late in the ride, which made for decidedly more pleasant riding conditions. At about 90 miles we turned west on Route 9, and started down a hill that continued all the way back to the finish, a very pleasant (and relaxing) way to complete a ride that provided an arduous test for all of us. I'm thinking we'll do this ride again next year, but without the rain.