Folkerinos, it's Hump Day here in Old Cootafornia. I think hump is the word of the day (or days) in several respects. Allow me to expand...Hump Day
I think we all know that Wednesday is traditionally Hump Day. It's the middle of the work week (or school week for you Readerinos out there getting your edumacation on) and once you crest that hump, you're home free.
During the summer, Hump Day coincides with Free Concert and Cheap Race Day 'round these parts. First, the free concert series runs from July til the end of August. Each week they have a new band, typically local, and it's a good chance to get out, use your lawn chair, see some friends and listen to music. It's right on the lake, so boaters come out in droves as well to get their groove on.
I always enjoy listening to boaters complain about how long it takes to get off the water afterward. There's only one boat launch which I believe can accommodate two boats, assuming sober/capable Captains and dozens of boats trying to get out. What a shame it must be to have to sit out on the boat in the water on a warm summer night.Hump Week
Believe it or not, it's mid July here and everywhere. It's funny how the winter is so long, yet the summer is so short. Maybe it's all a matter of perception or maybe it's that I live in New England and our winters last forEVER. Whatever the case, we have half of July left.
While I always feel like I've wasted the summer, this year I have an excuse: it rained all of June. Now that we're in the meat of the season, I've been taking full advantage. So far I've biked, run, camped, and kayaked (only once, boo). If I can get my ass in gear, I'll have some clothes out on the line tonight drying in the warm, dry summer air.Humping It
I'll use this term in a number of ways here. First of all, I've been humping it to work on my bike every day since some time in May. Aside from a few thunderstorms and my current flat tire, it's been a very painless activity. Even the thunderstorms have been cooperative and held off until the ride home.
Not only have I been saving gas, but I haven't been making all of those little trips I used to make to "just pick up (fill in the blank)". Those trips not only fill my house with crap, but they also drain my wallet. Oh, and the morning ride through the dirt road I've dubbed "Coney Expressway" is fantastic. The sun shining on the mountains and tall grasses is fantastic. The coneys must still be babies at this point and they're everywhere on the road, darting in and out of the grass on the sides. They're so cute you just want to pinch their cheeks.Busting My Hump
I haven't been riding my bike as much as I'd like, but when I have ridden I've busted my hump. Last night was a casual 28-miler turned high-intensity 40-miler. The ride itself was only 28 miles, but I wasn't going to drive to the meeting spot, and that added the 12 miles I needed to round it off to an even 40.
We started off innocently enough, but soon it became one challenge after another. If we weren't busting a hump up a hill or over rolling hills, we were pushing it on the flats.
Unlike the regular rides where we might cruise at 18 MPH on the flats, last night we were routinely busting out stretches in the mid 20s. For you non-cyclists, that might not seem like a lot but 24 MPH is 33% faster than 18, and your average John Q BikeTrailRider is humming along at a mediocre 8-10 MPH. For you nerdy non-cyclists, keep in mind that force required to overcome wind resistance (including drag) increases with the square of speed.
I'll point out here that to keep their own energy expenditure down, the guys pushing the pace were comfortably nestled in my draft. One guy even had the nerve to start singing while I was pulling him up a hill at a cool 20 MPH! Oh well, when I'm gracing the cover of Bicycling Magazine they'll be chasing me down for an autograph.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Hump Day Fo Sho
Monday, May 05, 2008
Cinco de Mayo, Son!
Alright, I have a problem and I thought I had it under control, but I don't. It's not one of my regular problems, it's one that is fortunately secret to me, but today I'm going to fess up in the hopes that taking that first step will be enough to help me through it.I Want to Be Dave Chappelle
I was watching some YouTube videos last night of some of Chappelle's skits and standup performances. Whenever I watch even one skit, I can't help but to start using his delivery with my own internal monologue. The hardest part is that my whiteness prevents me from saying half the stuff I think. Not that what I'm thinking is derogatory, but Dave often uses what I'll call the N-word, which is not Kosher for a white boy like me.
Shit, can I use the word "Kosher" if I'm not Jewish? To be safe I'll call that the K-word from here on out.Sunday Long Run
Yesterday was a pivotal day for yours truly. I had my usual Sunday long run, but it was unusually long. Sure it was only a mile longer than the next longest run (excluding the one where I got lost as hell and did 5.5 extra miles), but what was beauteous about it is that I felt great and kicked the shit out of it.
As luck would have it, four people showed up which made my day. The weather was less than ideal, but since the route could be summed up with a a single solitary word: My Happy Place, it didn't matter what Mother Nature served up I loved it.
We ran the first lap at slightly above what I would consider a "conversational pace", meaning I could have gone faster and still held my half of a conversation. After that lap a few people headed for home while three of us headed back out again. The other two were only going to do a few more miles then head back, leaving me to finish the route on my own. No biggie. What I wasn't planning on was that the other two would be picking up the pace. We were cruising along when they turned off to head back. Amazed that I had been able to maintain that pace I kept up the same effort level (which would have been the same pace if the road would not have been so hilly) for the next few miles.
As my watch beeped signaling the end of mile 15 I was still about half a mile from the car and just an eentsy bit above it, elevation-wise. I used my powerful imagination to put another runner on the road ahead of me, giving me someone to pick off in the final stretch to the imaginary finish line. Well, that person got more than a mouthful of my dust, the poor bastard.
Monday's Rest Day
After the longer Long Runs, my training plan gives me a rest day. They do point out that "rest" can mean "cross-train", so I took advantage of the warmer weather and went for what would be an ass-kicking 35 mile bike ride. For the most part it was very casual, at a very conversational pace. However, the route would take us across three town lines (and back) meaning there were 6 Town Line Sprints, which I swept.Back at the meeting spot we shot the shit for a few minutes then I decided it was time to hightail it back home. The sun had already set and it was getting D-A-R-K. I still had a bit of a ride to get home, so I cranked out an ass-whooping of a 7 mile all-out effort. I wasn't wearing my heart rate monitor (HRM), but I'm sure the display would have read "One at a time, please" or "Lance, give Old Coot his HRM back".
Happy Birthday, Kittens
In a coincidence that I won't explain, my cats' birthdays are both today, Cinco de Mayo. Okay, I'll explain...Who the hell ever knows their pets real birthdays? I never do. So I figured they were probably born at some time in the spring, and what spring day do people usually celebrate without exception but 5/5? When I picked that date I couldn't imagine a time when there wouldn't be a party for the cats to enjoy. As we all know, I don't party down like I used to so it's really just business as usual for my buds. I give them extra attention in the form of slaps, wall smashes and the kind of petting they can feel, where their eyelids end up higher than their eyeballs. In reality that's probably better for them than a bunch of drunks hooting, hollering, and running the blender until all hours.
Happy Birthday, boys.
P.S. K-word Dill Pickles. That shit is funny, son. Uhn!
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Get the Whole Story Here...
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Weekend Update
Cooterinos, it's Sunday night and I'm gonna take a few minutes to rap at ya. I'm not going to lie, I had a great weekend. I'm sure there's something I can rant about, but it's gonna take some real thinking to come up with it. Oh, I just thought of something. I'll get to it in a minute...Take it Up a Notch
Allow me to set the stage for you. I was out on Friday night, enjoying the brisk Berkshire air on an easy 10 miler. It was supposed to be a short run, but anything much shorter is hardly worth suiting up forTM.
So anyway, we were splitting up at the end and going our separate ways when we starting trying to plan some things for the weekend. The idea of xc skiing came up and I entertained it, but wasn't really excited. It's one of those things I have to do once to remember that I like it, then I'm all about it.
Saturday afternoon we headed up to Notchview to use their perfectly groomed trails and enjoy the warm early January weather. They were predicting temperatures near 40, which was a real improvement over the 0 we had two days earlier (refer to picture above). Sho nuff when we got there I knew a whole bunch of people up there and the conversations all went like this:Oh wow, hey! I didn't expect to see you here. Are you just getting here or finishing up? Yeah? How's the snow? Oh, great. Yeah it looks perfect out there. Do you skate or ski classical? Yeah, me too. I don't think I'm coordinated enough to skate (a round of chuckling). Alright, good to see you. You gonna be back tomorrow? Yeah, I might too. We'll see how my legs feel after today. It's my first day out this year (another round of chuckling).
Then, you saw someone else you knew and the conversation repeated itself.
The skiing was almost ideal to boot. It was 32 degrees, perfectly groomed, no ice, no rocks/dirt exposed, no wind, the sun was shining. Ahhhhhh. We did about 5 miles before I had to head in for cocoa while the rest of my crew did another quick mile. I was a little tired from the run the night before and was getting the low blood sugar cranks, so I had to quit early.Yes, No, Wait Yes, No
I won't smear their rapidly improving name, but I volunteer at a local theater from time to time. It's a nice way to get to see shows for free and help out at the same time. My only beef with the place is that they typically give me about 12 hours' head's up when I'm scheduled to volunteer. That means I get the call in the morning for an evening show, clutch!
Well Saturday I heard via the grapevine that I was scheduled to be there at 7PM. [sarcasm filter]No problem, my weekend nights are always free.[/sarcasm filter] Not only was I not scheduled to be there according to the calendar they gave me, but there was no show even listed. I was assured I had to be there, so I adjusted my schedule, busted my hump to get ready to go, dug up some old black sneakers because all of my dress shoes are at work and sped off to get there on time. Eeeewrong!
When we pulled into the parking lot it became readily apparent that there was nothing going on. The theater was all black and the lot was empty. So we grabbed some dinner at a local eatery and went home where I looked the damn show up online. They didn't even have it listed on their website. However, the city's website had the show listed, so those fuckers are busted! I would really like to just stop helping out, but I do enjoy free shows.Mountaineering, Runner Style
This morning I met my running crew for a snowshoe run up in Greylock Glen. As it turned out, this was the same route we took the first time I ran with them (sans snowshoes), so it was also a trip down memory lane. If you've never run over a mountain for two hours in snowshoes, you can't understand the feeling. Sure, it's tough as hell and you're literally drenched in sweat at the end but it's also a very peaceful experience.
We ran up and then back down the mountain, over streams, down ravines (and up the other side), pet a dog, had snowball fights (AKA ambushes) all under the guise of exercise. What could be better than that?
Afterwards we had breakfast at a little diner, which I love to do, and I had the Lion's Share of coffee to wash down my pancakes, eggs, bacon and homefries.
Awww, honey dip!Binners on the Mend
My cat Vinny is almost completely on the mend now. He's his usual punk self and is currently curled up inside my bathrobe in his typical burrow-cat style.
The second best part (after the fact that he's healthy again) is that they shaved his arm for an IV or something. I'm sure he doesn't care, but I've been busting his balls about how ridiculous he looks. "Dude, what's up with your arm? You must have no self-respect with a shaved arm like that."
Ahh, it's good to have the old Vinny back again.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Monday, November 26, 2007
Tales from the Trail
Well, I got home last night from the long weekend in Buffalo. As usual, I stayed too long and was driving across NY State during peak across-NY-State-driving hours. Added to this was the accident I would crawl by later in the day. But for now, I want to add a few little stories from my trip out to the 'lo that I forgot to mention. Lot Two-Stepping
I pulled into a parking spot at a rest stop, and was walking across the lot to the building and noticed a humorous phenomenon. Whenever a car's backup lights would come on, nearby pedestrians would instinctively perform a little parking lot hustle or shuffle, depending on the person. In a busy lot you could see the same person or group of people (in unison) performing this little shuffle several times en route to the building, taking what appeared to be short intermissions to walk. I'm sure the people didn't know this was happening, it's all built into our genetic code. The next time while you're performing a shuffle of your own, keep your eyes on your fellow pedestrians.Thank You, Come Again
Another strange phenomenon that I noticed while entering and leaving the rest stop was the politeness with which everyone treated one another. I always hold doors for people, and thank those who do the same for me. In our "Me first" society that's not always the case.
However, this trip I noticed that everyone was holding doors for everyone else. It was almost like that movie Pay It Forward where you do something nice for someone and in return they're supposed to do something nice for others. There was also a continual exchange of Pleases and Thank Yous.
At the risk of sounding sexist, I generally find that women do not thank us men often enough. Yes, we're bound by our extra chromosome to hold doors for the fairer sex, but the least our chromosomally challenged counterparts can do is acknowledge the act. This weekend I found that everyone was holding doors, everyone was saying 'thank you' and everyone was saying 'you're welcome'. My mind was blown.
To you ladies out there who appreciate having the door held for you and take it one step further and thank the holder, I say "You're welcome, any time."Just Here to Freshen Your Air
You know those damn automatic air fresheners in public restrooms? The ones that release a doo-doo enflowering scent after every plop? Well, those things eventually run out and need to be replaced.
During a #1 visit to the men's room, I had assumed my position at the pisser and was dutifully facing the tiles direction in front of me. I heard a muttering voice and the telltale "PSST PSST PSST" of an air freshener. I couldn't stand it, so I slowly turned my head - taking care to keep my eyes above waist level - and saw the restroom attendant walking the length of the aisle of stalls spraying eau d' deuce-fleur over his head.
Having completed my task, I walked over to the sinks and was met with a tear-jerking, convulsion-inducing fog of poop covering air freshener. I noticed another gentleman rubbing his eyes and coughing, victimized by the same fog. I can still taste that stench.
The only thing I could think of was that the muttering restroom attendant was instructed to "Replace the men's room air fresheners", so he did just that. He manually performed the task of the air fresheners. I can only imagine what his hands must smell like.
Oh, here's the excerpt from my notebook detailing the incident:The guy who replaced the automatic air fresheners... Not that he put in new ones, but performed their roles w/a little too much enthusiasm, blinding restroom patrons and offending our olfactory and (taste) senses.
I intended to replace (taste) with the appropriate word for the sense of taste: gustatory.
Okay, I'm going to stop here for now. I have another story or two from my return trip, but I'll hit you up with that later. I don't want this getting too out of control or those of you in Readerland with short attention spans might change the channel.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Westward Bound
Happy Tri-Centennial. This is our 300th Issue of The Rantings of an Old Coot.
Wednesday morning I awoke to my alarm, lounged in bed in the knowledge that all I had to do today was pack up for the weekend, get the cats ready, run a quick errand or two and go into autopilot for a few hours. At the end of all that I'd be in Buffalo casually relaxing for a few days, eating Thanksgiving dinner and running a Turkey Trot.The Check Engine Light
Let me set the stage for you. It's November 21st, 11:00 AM and I just stopped to top of the ole gas tank before driving for 6 hours. According to my odometer I've traveled a hair over 4 miles when, wouldn't you know it, the check engine light (CEL) comes on. I'll be damned. From what I understand the CEL is almost always en emission issue, so short of creating a little more pollution (maybe I'll get one less mile per gallon, which over 12 gallons is not a problem) and spending a few extra cents driving out to the 'lo it's not a big deal. BUT, my inspection is up in December (9 days away) and it'll fail if the CEL is on. Excellent! There will be no putting this damn task off.
A few miles down the road it dawns on me that when I topped off the gas tank, the gas cap just didn't feel quite right. I pulled over at my earliest convenience, took the cap off, put it back on real good and hoped for the best. The light would never go off for the entire drive, but those things can take a while. I was not overly worried.
At a rest stop I took a few moments to jot down the details of my trip so I would remember to pass them along to all y'all and I noticed that the last thing I wrote in my little notebook was P0031 - the fault code from the last time my CEL was on.In-Car Snacks
With little more than an orange Check Engine Light, the occasional tail light and the dirt on my glasses to look at, I passed the time by looking into other people's cars and judging them. DVDs playing? Bad parents. Radar detector? Scofflaw. Navigation system? Directionally challenged. Nevermind that I have a radar detector and navigation system, that's not important. What I found to be the most fun was seeing what people eat while driving.
I'm sure we're all familiar with the standard in-car snacks: coffee, huge slices of pizza, Cinnabon cinnamon rolls, and so on. I myself had pretzels, bananas, apples and a granola bar. Nothing funny about those things. Then there was the woman who came swerving out of a rest stop. I thought for sure she was trying to stir a coffee or eat soup, but she was not. Of all things to be eating A) while driving and B) on a cold November day, she had a big ass ice cream cone.
If you've ever eaten an ice cream cone, you're probably well aware of the mess it can make if you don't stay on top of it. Add the fact that she's probably got the heat blasting, and it was a recipe for disaster. Chuckling in amazement to myself, I then proceeded to drink from my 32 ounce wide-mouth Nalgene bottle which, under the most controlled circumstances, is a freaking mess. How I managed to keep from pouring it down the sides of my face I'll never know.Race Packet Pickup
Before ending my trip at the family homestead, I stopped by the Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA) to pick up my race packet for the morning's Turkey Trot. By this time it was pouring rain out, and I was quite drenched by the time I got into the building. I waltzed up to the table for last names G-L, announced myself and received my timing chip and bib number. She asked if I would like a small or extra large t-shirt, to which I replied 'No'. I would have actually preferred a medium, but I was SOL. I took a small, thinking if it didn't fit well I could at least wear it under something. Like the pile of Red Cross t-shirts I've received over the years, an XL would never be worn.
Passing by the racks of discounted running gear for sale by Runner's Roost, I nabbed a jacket I've been eyeing for years. It was 50% off which put it down to a reasonable splurge for yours truly. In the morning, it proved a welcome addition to my running wardrobe since it was the only sleeved windbreaker I had. Excellent!
When I got home I dug through my race bag to collect all of my goodies. Usually these bags are stuffed with granola bars, strange jelly bean style food supplements, and coupons. Apparently mine had already been pawed through, leaving me with only the latter - coupons for shit I don't need. Oh yeah, hair bands for my close-cropped hair. Excellent.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Friday, September 21, 2007
A Fine Cuppla Days
Good morning Cooterinos! It's Friday, it's my "day off" and I'm sitting here digesting chocolate chip pancakes and sipping freshly brewed coffee. It's been an exciting couple of days: some good, some bad, and some pedestrian. Before I go into any of the details, I'm going to hook you up with a piece of photojournalistic gold...
Pardon the poor image quality, it's a photograph of a newspaper photograph. In the center of the picture you can see your favorite one-time triathlete "El Guapo" running from the kayak to the shore moments before I began the last leg of The Josh - the run. Note the chiseled legs and cool Curious George Astronaut cycling jersey. In the lower left is my Entourage, HECOW, waiting with my running shoes, socks and a towel to dry my dogs.
Post Pre
To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the Gift. - PreA friend of mine recently lent me his copy of a book entitled Pre. It's the story of one of the world's best runners of all time, Steve Prefontaine (affectionately called 'Pre') who took the world by storm during the 1960s and 1970s. He could have easily been considered arrogant, but in reality he was just confident. His story is incredible and inspiring.
In Pre's world there were no limits. He went to the Olympics knowing he could never out kick (sprint) the world's best at the end of the race, so he turned up the heat the entire race, forcing his competitors to abandon their race strategy and just hoof it the whole way. He came in 4th that race, but the fact that a young kid from Oregon could make the world's elite runners run his race because they respected his ability is incredible. After all he didn't care who was the fastest, he wanted to see who had the most guts. One of my favorite quotes is:
A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more.
After reading about his life and running career, I was inspired to stride to more than mediocrity in my running and bicycling. The night before The Josh I decided on my game plan - to race each leg like it was the only one I was racing. Basically, I wanted to see if I had the guts. From my excitement after the race (in my last post), you can see that I had the guts. I may not have won, but it was certainly a better effort than I thought I was capable of.
Riding with the Big Dogs
After my stellar performance in The Josh, some people at work who constitute what I consider an admirable section of Berkshire County's cycling community realized that I'm not a tourist in their world. I was invited to ride with one of the better cycling clubs on Wednesday night and gladly accepted.My friend (coincidentally the one who lent me Pre) told me beforehand not to be intimidated. Intimidated? As long as I was riding with the "Fast and Friendly" group (as opposed to just "The Fast Group") I had every confidence that I'd be able to keep up, no problem. I had no problems whatsoever. We averaged 20 MPH over 30 miles, often cruising for extended periods at upwards of 27-28 MPH, and I was right there with them.
I now get nods from the cyclists at work.
Guts in the Woods
Last night, at our weekly Thursday Night Run, we were standing around the parking lot bullshitting when one guy asked if we were going to break last year's record. He said last year, the week after The Josh, we (by 'we' I mean he and some other guys) ran the course in 41:55. To put it into perspective, my personal best is probably 45 minutes, maybe high 44s. It later occurred to me how strange it was the he remembered that one run and the time they ran it in.I was definitely up for the challenge. I hadn't eaten much yesterday, had drank about 5 sips of water and 4 cups of coffee, and my legs felt like lead. Work had shat upon us though, so I had anger on my side. We set off at a blistering pace (for the trails anyway) and I was going to beat that record!
Through the first two miles we were right on pace to beat the record, but by the third we had lost a full minute. Apparently dehydration and a lack of proper warm up were coming into play. By the fourth mile we were two minutes behind and we hadn't seen the front runner in quite some time. But at the last hill I got my second wind and was cruising.
I emerged from the trail at 41:15, a course record, but over a minute and a half behind the "winner". In fact, the first three of us out of the woods broke the record. Yup, we're a force to be reckoned with.
Third Thursday
After the run, we headed to the Crowne Plaza for dinner. It was Third Thursday in Pittsfield and North Street was filled with all sorts of things to do. We dined on lobster and gator Jambalaya. $10 for a lobster, you can't turn it down.After dinner, we meandered down to Spice where there were rumors of a Brazilian band. When we got there, they had the front of the restaurant opened up to the street, the band was jamming and people filled the sidewalk and spilled out into the street. People were partying and having a great time, and it was the most eclectic mix of people I could have imagined. I've never seen anything like that in Pittsfield.
We ended up staying there until 12:30 AM dancing, laughing, mingling and having a great time. It was just what the doctor ordered.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Get the Whole Story Here...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I'll Claim Success
As many of you have surely noted, but have yet to find time to comment on, the Josh has come and gone. It was not without much fanfare and celebration, and unfortunately I haven't had the time to fill you in on the details.Most Importantly Feature
Before I get into it, what's most important about this competition is that I placed 4th out of about 20 in the Ironman Kayak division. Considering my boat was one of the slowest crafts out there, I am very pleased with my performance.The Racing Heart
The first thing I should mention is that aside from block parties as a kid, this was my first bike race ever. Like most people, I get plenty nervous before any race, and this was no exception. What I found interesting was my body's response to the excitement.
As we lined up at the beginning, I kept an eye on my heart rate monitor (HRM) noting that it was at 90 beats per minute (BPM), about 40 BPM above my normal resting rate. When the guy got on the megaphone to announce that there were 5 minutes remaining until the start, it shot to around 140 in the blink of an eye. Thank you, adrenaline.
What I liked about lining up for that race though, was that I didn't feel outclassed one bit. The way I saw it, I was just as good as everyone else out there. And as they say in the trade, "Trust your training".Wear Your Eye Protection
I always ride with cycling glasses, no matter what time of day. I have an inexpensive pair of glasses that came with three sets of lenses allowing you can change them to suit the time of day. For me, I find that the orange lenses are perfect for all conditions. But that's neither here nor there. Over the course of the summer, I have been hit in the glasses by stones, June Bugs, crud and untold mosquitoes and gnats. Until Sunday I never really appreciated what they did for me...
There I was, riding up and down the hills of southern Berkshire County in a pace line, hugging the center line. Mere feet to my right was another pace line of equal length, roughly 30 cyclists. We were cruising along at a good clip, but I was certain I could go faster. The guy ahead of me kept looking around to the left like he was going to make a break for it, and I down-shifted to get my cadence (pedaling speed) up to be ready to take off with him when he went. He looked once, he looked twice, and on the third look he fired off a snot rocket. The chunky end of his nasal explosion was sent careening off my glasses.
At first I was stunned at what had happened. A guy literally blew his nose in my face, and it bounced off my glasses. I can't even begin to imagine what it would have been like if I hadn't been wearing those glasses. Best case scenario I would have had snot in my eye; worst case I would have been taken off my bike. I plan on writing the company to thank them for their product.Climb Does Pay
After a summer of cursing the hills of Berkshire County, I was happy to have been training in such an unforgiving landscape. With each hill, I was able to easily drop scores of other riders who were less prepared for the climb. Often I would "jump on the wheel" of another good climber and we would end up in a smaller, faster pack. Ultimately we had a group of about 20 cyclists with which I finished out the race (leading them, of course).Three Separate Races
Although this was technically a triathlon, I treated it as three completely independent races. Instead of saving energy for the next event, I just gave 100% to everything and I couldn't have been happier. The funny thing about cycling is that no matter how tired I get during a ride, I always have the energy to mow the lawn, go to the grocery store, do laundry, and so on afterwards. I knew 100% wouldn't leave me too tired for a measly paddle around the lake and a quick 6 mile cool down run.Eyes on the Prize
The paddling portion was pretty uneventful. After an hour and a quarter of speeding along at 20+ MPH in a pack with 60 other guys and gals, paddling a kayak at 4.5 MPH seemed pretty lame.
At first I was right alongside a guy from the Thursday Night Runs (we'll call him Jeff). I wanted to get ahead of Jeff because he's a faster runner than I am, but after the first lap he pulled ahead. After that, I just kept thinking about getting to the end of it so I could get on with the run. Once I reached a mindless state of oblivion, the paddling just flew by and before I knew it I was bearing down on the beach.
From about 200 yards out, I could see HECOW standing on the beach waving his pink hat. I fought for position against a clumsily steered canoe and hit the beach running. HECOW followed me up to a clearing on the hill, handed me my socks and shoes one at a time, offered some words of encouragement and I was off.
The first mile or so I took it easy to find my stride and fight off the cramp in my ribs. Once I felt good, I picked up the pace and one by one picked off other runners. Sure, a few people passed me but I was starting to feel it on the hills. Besides, I still had to catch that Jeff guy.
Every time I thought I spotted his bright orange shirt, I would slowly reel "him" in only to find it was someone else. My goal was to get about 10 yards behind him, match his pace, follow him until the end and dust him at the finish. I must reeled in the wrong person 4 or 5 times only to never actually catch him. Oh well, it gave me a reason to push the pace.
When I passed the boat launch, I knew there was about a mile left until the finish line. I made a visual list of people I was going to beat in that mile and proceeded to reel each one of them in. According to my plan, my last victim was going to be taken out at the last minute in an all out sprint. I didn't want him to have a chance to out sprint me, so I waited for the perfect moment, then POW, I kicked it into overdrive. I passed that guy like he was standing still and by the time I hit the finish line I was running full tilt and had a good 75 yards on him. Poor guy, I almost feel bad for him.
Almost.The End Result
After 38 miles of racing (plus 12 miles for my warm-up ride), I finished feeling like a million bucks. My official time was 3:09:14, an excellent finish for my first time. My goal was to finish in less than three and a half hours, with my stretch goal at three hours even. Under 3:10 was pretty damn good. When I looked at my splits, I was really only one or two (well, I guess three) minutes off my goal for each leg of the race so I have no complaints.
The best part was that even among my regular riding/running crowd nobody expected that I would do so well. When my pack came in on the bike, people told me they were watching the riders come in and someone goes "Holy shit, is that (Old Coot) out front?" Yup, riding with the big dogs. As a matter of fact, one of the big dogs asked me to come ride with them tomorrow. Check!
Maybe next year I'll find myself a paddler and just do the bike and run legs. A good canoeist/kayaker should be able to pound out a killer time, and I'll have the whole summer (hopefully I won't be injured like I was this summer) to whip myself into even better shape. Until then, I have only running races to hold me over.
See y'all at the Fall Foliage Race!Special Thanks
I'd like to give a special thanks to HECOW for being "The Entourage" for me. Not only did he show up early on Sunday morning, but he performed all Entourage duties to perfection and with enthusiasm. And don't think I'm not going to get you to enter the race in one way shape or form next year.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Fun is Free
This morning I enjoyed my blueberry pancakes and coffee with Jack Johnson, specifically Live at Bonnaroo, playing in the background. This specific album has little snippets mixed in with Jack et al talking about the songs, performances, the band and life in general. At one point, one of the guys was talking about the parallels between performing on stage and surfing (they're just laid back surfer dudes) and he put it simply: Fun is Free.
As luck would have it, years ago two of my favorite people were throwing a Bonfire and BBQ Party and the invite came on a Stella Marrs postcard bearing just that phrase. That postcard has adorned my refrigerator - front and center at eye level - ever since.
In the last few years I have shifted my focus in life away from worrying about stupid shit to what's really important - Fun - and that card serves as a daily reminder.
Enjoy the day.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
P.S. If the fine folks at Stella Marrs don't want this low-res picture displayed I will gladly remove it or replace it with a link to your site. We here at Old Coot Productions ® don't want to step on any toes.
Everyone else, please visit their site for all of your postcard needs. They have some great products. Get the Whole Story Here...
