A Soupçon of Trust

The Hell of Hunterdon.

It’s an organized ride on paved and unpaved roads in celebration of the beginning of the cycling season. Modeled after the Spring Classic races in Europe, its meant to test your strength, determination and early season fitness. The weather is usually crap. The roads are usually crap (this never ending winter made sure of this). And if you manage to finish you feel like crap. My team (like many others) use it as a tune-up for The Tour of Battenkill – the largest one day Race in the US. It too is modeled after the European Spring Classic races and all of the “crap” above, applies. Except its a race – adding insult to injury.

In finishing The Hell of Hunterdon I came to grips with a few things:

1. I have been sitting in front of a computer, in a conference room or on an airplane for the better part of 20 years; doing very little in the way of exercise. This is abundantly clear. Mind you, I’m in the best shape I’ve been in probably 25 years. (Am I REALLY that old?).

2. California training camp worked! The whole break yourself down to build yourself back up stronger – that’s for real. I managed to climb past people on hills. Ride past others on the flats. And take advantage of downhills. Now, I still got dropped, but I managed to work alone; pass folks (that looked fitter than I felt), AND set a bunch of new CP numbers.

3. Finally, I came to grips with the fact I’ve still got a LOOOOONG way to go. 20 years of doing nothing followed by 6 months of concentrated effort plus one week-long training camp, don’t add up to being in the bunch at the end of a day in crap weather on crap roads.

It’s comforting: this knowledge that I’ve got something to strive for. In one particularly lonely stretch, no one to chase down, and no one behind – Crow was there. Sitting on a wire. Struggling to stay upright like me in the cold, harsh wind blowing across an open field – Resolute and Content.

Here’s a link to my Strava data. Please be kind: http://www.strava.com/activities/123048114

Within the first 10 minutes today, I knew I was done and dusted. The weather was great. The team was all here. It was the last day of Training Camp. And I had no legs. Zero. Nothing. The order for the day was nearly as much climbing as yesterday but in a shorter ride. There was no way I was going to make it.

Sure enough, within the first 10 minutes of the climb I was off the back; legs searing and I was fighting. Fighting for the rest of the day – well past what I thought was my breaking point. I wasn’t even close to keeping up with the group.

Crow wasn’t with me today much either. I heard it. But my companion wasn’t around, pressing me on. Today was a journey for me alone and I’m grateful for that. It’s humbling to watch as the group drifts away while you’re doing everything you can to stick with them. But in the end, I’m ok having done everything I could. I’ll rest well knowing I had nothing left in the tank.

Top of Stunt. This time with a bit more visibility.

Here’s a link to my Strava data. Please be kind:

http://www.strava.com/activities/117587784

I fully expected to spend most of today in the car. Acceptance that I may be fully out of gas. But, I promised myself that I had to give today’s climbs an effort. The team was here (by the way, the most supportive, diverse and awe-inspiring group of guys you’d ever have the privilege to hang with) and I didn’t want to miss the chance to ride with them.

The weather was cool, a bit foggy and made the effort seem a bit easier – if for nothing else, than it made me feel at ease. Familiar. Call it a longing from my Scotch/Irish roots.

I rode by myself on the first climb of the day. Making sure that I kept my desire to go hard in check. I looked around. I listened. I made sure to drink in the moment. I didn’t see a soul. Except for a crow that seemed to follow me most of the way – either from a distance or perched on a wire. Every time I’d try to take a picture – it would fly away. Leading me further and further.

“Window” by The Album Leaf (https://play.spotify.com/artist/02uPe16VFxPaiueQsPEDkE) to hear what I was listening to.

A couple times, I’ll admit I got a bit emotional. Alone with myself, facing this long, difficult effort made for a special moment that I hope to hold on to for a long time. Never have I felt more alone, yet more free.

Here’s a link to my Strava data. Please be kind:

http://www.strava.com/activities/117385678

I’m trying to figure what I’m supposed to have learned today. On a day when we, by all accounts should have been rained out, went south to avoid getting caught in the rain (fine for going up-hill on a bike; terrible for going down). Our ride turned into a much longer one with some good climbs and some time riding in the wind along the coast. It hurt. More than it should have. Dropped on both climbs (but I’m accustomed to that), fighting with my bike, frustrated with my fitness, my back killing me; I accepted that today was not my day. Thankfully, there were rest stops where I could catch up.

To add insult to injury, after avoiding rain all day, I got drenched riding back from the bike shop getting my bike fixed. Prepared for and anticipating rain; then in jeans and sneakers after all that – soaked.

Acceptance. I guess that is what I’m supposed to get out of today. No matter what you think might happen, it could and probably will change. Be prepared for what you expect and be prepared to accept something different.

Here’s the link to my Strava data. Please be kind:

http://www.strava.com/activities/117068936

Clark Griswold. You gotta love his enthusiasm for life and willingness to do follow his, ahem, heart…

Just as he’s about to take the plunge into what is assuredly a monumental mistake, he utters those most quotable of phrases; seemingly giving himself permission to live with reckless abandon. That was this morning. With what we knew was probably the beginning of California’s largest ‘weather event’ in the last 3 years barreling down on us. We went for a ride. The plan was to go for a short ride and if we got caught out – it would only be a little rain storm.

We didn’t count on the hypothermic properties of cycling kit and being soaked to the skin in 50 degree weather at the beginning of a descent. With a constant 20mph or so wind rushing over us and the wet roads keeping us from pedaling to keep our hearts pumping warm blood through us; we spent the better part of an hour slowly and assuredly lowering our body temperatures as we made our way back. A couple of us opted for for the warm confines of our support car for the last 5 miles. Jim and Ed manned up, dropped the hammer and raced back to stay warm; narrowly avoiding being taken out by the better part of a palm tree dislodged by the wind.

There is no feeling quite like trying to pedal when you can’t feel your legs. (thanks for the photo Bruce – @bbweyman)

When it was all said and done, knowing that it could have ended the way that it did: “Crazy,”  we still would have quoted Clark Griswold; put the helmets on and jumped in. There’s a difference between saying it and experiencing it. Now, there’s a story to tell. An experience to remember. And I doubt any of us would trade it away.

Here’s the link to my Strava data. Please  be kind:

http://www.strava.com/activities/116789130