I guess I was being a little selfish lately and hording all the good news to myself. Well, not much for news but the weather has been so fantastic that I've had no choice but to be out doing what I do best, playing. There's no sense in trying to play catch-up, so I'm just going to give you a wrapup of this weekend's activities.Thursday Night Run Hero
Because I'm so dedicated to my job, I arrived at the Thursday Night Run 19 minutes late. That's 9 minutes after the expiration of the 10 minute rule, so I was going to have to haul ass if I wanted to catch up.
Throwing caution to the wind, I got out of the car and hit the ground running. The way I figgered it, I could catch the slow group somewhere between miles 4 and 5 if I ran at top speed. Besides the motivation of trying to catch up, I was also motivated by the fact that the sun was setting and it was getting dark.
I never did catch the group while they were running, but I finished a few minutes behind them. As it turned out, only the fast guys and gals were there, so there was no chance I was going to catch them. We bullshat for a few minutes in the parking lot, which is where I learned about the Monroe Dunbar Brook Trail Race this weekend. I did it last year and it was horrible; I'll go into details in a minute.
Moral of the story, I finished the run in last year's record time of 41:55, a time I would not have thought to be achievable had I not beat it two weeks ago.Friday, Not a Rest Day
This was our off Friday, and for some reason it was half a day for the local student body. A friend of mine is the coach for one of the high school Girls' XC team, and asked me to join them on a run around the road in the state forest.
The road, known informally as The Berry Pond Loop takes you from the Ranger's station up to the top of the mountain and back down again. It's a three mile thigh burning run up to the top where you are first repaid with a gorgeous view of the mountainside, then with the loop's namesake pond.
The bus was waiting for the girls at the pond, but a few of us ran it back down to the bottom (some of me further down than others). What parts of my legs the run to the top didn't burn up, the run back down finished off. My thighs were on fire about half a mile into the descent, and I was making deals with the devil by the time I reached the bottom. The girls (and coach) who braved the descent hopped into the bus leaving me to run the 2 miles back to my car.
Back at the Lesbaru, I walked around the parking lot to cool down. Before I could get away a ranger pulled up in his ranger-mobile. He rolled down his window and started off with "You a runner?". Running shoes, shorts, heart rate monitor, thick coat of sweat glistening off my chiseled body... what gave it away? He asked where I had been running and I emphasized that I was with the high school xc team in case he was going to make me pay to park.
Sure enough he's a big runner and he told me I should look into a trail race up in Monroe this weekend. "Dude, I'm already going. I've already bagged the Century I was supposed to ride with some dudes from work." What a small world, two days in a row someone told me about a small, obscure trail race up near the MA / VT border.
After that, I headed home to hook up my bike for a quick cruise out to the Rail Trail and back. A nice 30-miler to help cool down my gams. Ahhhhh, this extra month of summer has not gone to waste.
With the cooldown ride out of my way, I picked up a few groceries to make an Orange Cheesecake with (gluten-free) Faux-reo crust. It came out fantastic, but the creme filling from the faux-reos leaked out of the pan all over the bottom of my oven. When I tried to let the Clean setting take care of it, I ended up with a house full of smoke. I wanted to choke a bitch as I tried to open windows, find enough fans to clear the house, shut the damn smoke detectors up, and so on. It was a hassle.Saturday - Old Coot's Sabbath
I slept in late, had oatmeal for breakfast, read a magazine and otherwise chilled the eff out. I-deal.
For dinner, I would make the trip out to Asa's Acres in Windsor. J&BC once again put on a tasty spread complete with pork (whodathunk it?). I can only think of one time I ate up there and didn't have a swine product or two, and it was only because there were lobsters (or lobberts as they were called that night).
Our gullets full of swine, green beans and scalloped potatoes (thrice filled with swine and potatoes) we moved onto the orange cheesecake. Damn that was tasty. An evening of rotten language (who knew Rastafarians used foul language?), Dominoes, booze (no, not me), coffee (yeah, that was me), booze-coffee (again, not me) and ball busting was to follow. Morning Coot knew he would have to get up around 6:30 to be out in Monroe for the race, but Night Coot didn't give a shit. He was riding the Mexican Train!Sunday. Not the Coot's Sabbath.
Sunday morning I hopped in the Lesbaru, met up with a guy who was going to follow me out to the race and headed up into the great Northern Wilderness of MA. Let me preface this race report by saying that we had gone almost a month without rain, which makes for a nice and dry course. I even hoped that the rivers we have to cross would have receded enough that I might not have to get soaked all the way up my legs. Then, it poured all night and effed that up completely.
Sunday morning had Perfect 10 written all over it. As we got closer and closer to the State Forest, the weather got nicer and nicer and the scenic views followed suit. A quick sign-up (I hooked up a race sweatshirt for $8, cha-ching) and I was ready for my warmup. We ran maybe 3/4 of a mile along the course and it was nothing but rocks covered in wet leaves, all on a narrow path with a steep ravine on the side. This would be interesting.
So the race started and I made sure to get close to the front. After the first mile you climb 650 feet in the next 1/2 mile. Running at this point is futile, it's actually slower than walking. Then, after you complete this horrible climb up a rocky ledge, you get to run up another 1,000 feet over the course of then next few miles. It's probably more since you go up some, down some, up some, down some, etc. but I'm just ballparking it for you.
I managed alright on my quest for the top, losing only a handful of places to what proved to be some of the race's top runners. I spent the next 5 or 6 miles by myself trying to keep moving as fast as I could without completely throwing personal safety to the curb. I had a few close calls with slips and twisted ankles, but nothing serious.
When I hit the last 1/3 of the race, I found myself leap-frogging with some guy. I'd lead for a while, then he'd take the lead, then I'd get it back, and so on. I decided that the next time I got an appreciable lead I was going to turn up the burners a little and wear him down. The best part was that as I passed him my watch beeped. He asked what that was for, and I told him he didn't want to know. I have it beep at mile intervals, but in a race sometimes it's best not to know how far you have to go. He pressed me again so I told him it beeped to let me know I had passed someone in my age group. He was 50-something so it was clear we were not in the same age group, but he was dumbfounded.
By the end of the race, my feet felt like mush. Not only had I been twisting my ankles for 10.5 miles, but I had also run through two icy streams. When I hit the home stretch I pulled out all the stops and booked it for the finish line. The last hundred yards or so goes through an unnaturally perfect double row of trees. They have these huge pine trees in two perfect lines, and the needles make for a very welcome, soft running surface. I almost killed a couple of volunteers as I tore across the finish line. Apparently nobody else finished quite so strong.
Once my heart rate came down to a more moderate level I loaded up with a few drinks, a bowl of chili and a meatball grinder. A few cookies, a cuppla Diet Cokes and I would be ready for the road. Besides, I had to get home for a bike ride!
The ride was fairly uneventful, so I won't bore you with the details. Oh wait, there was one incident of note...Incident of Note
Picture this: we were on the Rail Trail, about halfway back to the cars as visions of promised ice cream danced in my head, and about a gallon of Powerade, Diet Coke and water danced in my bladder. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I pulled off to take a whiz. I sent the rest of the group on ahead, I'd just be a second.
That's when this wackjob comes sauntering up to me, asking about my bike. Using the same tone someone might use when saying "You got a purdy mouth" he told me I have a sweet bike. He proceeded to talk ad nauseum about everything he knew about bikes, which apparently was a lot because he told me he has 6 of them. The one he was riding today cost 700 bucks but when he broke the frame they sent him a free replacement because that's their policy but it was the wrong color.
"Oh yeah? Well I have to take a piss, so fuck off" I thought to myself. He kept asking how much it cost, if I didn't mind him asking, which I did. I responded only vaguely with "A few week's pay". "Ain't even got a kick stand on it!" he pointed out, as if to imply I got ripped off.
At this point there was no way I was taking more than one step away from my bike, even to whiz in the woods. And if this guy had any ideas about absconding with it he would be taking those ideas to the grave. I didn't like the cut of his jib and I was pretty sure I could take his chain smoking, bike not knowing ass if it came down to it. I kept one eye on that skeevebag while I took care of business.
After I caught my group I was telling my harrowing story when I asked what it was about me that attracted creepy bike path dudes. Just then the creepiest of all creepy bike path dudes rode by in the other direction. Years ago this guy (35 years my senior) rode alongside me for about 7 miles while I was running, and by the end had told me he was allowed to have extra-marital relationships and then basically invited me up to his buddy's camp in NH. No thanks, creepazoid.
So there you have it. I got lots of play time in this weekend and almost had to whoop some old chainsmoking, heebie-jeebie giving, hint not taking ass.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Back By Popular Demand
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Spider Bites, Revisited
My sister so graciously sent me into a fervor when she mentioned spider bites that itch are really spider eggs. I looked it up and she's wrong.Spider Bites Defined
Okay, according to an online source, what I have is definitely spider bites...
Those are my exact symptoms. I figured it was either a head cold or heroin withdrawal. However, I know for certain I haven't used heroin since I was attacked by the spider. But what constitutes withdrawal? If I've never technically used heroin can it still be withdrawal? Can you withdraw from something you've never done? Can you catch withdrawal from contact with a hobo? Should I now be worried about that? Should I get on methadone now to rule that out?Symptoms of Spider Bites
The bite is often painless and the first sign may be cramping abdominal pain. The abdomen becomes hard and boardlike as the waves of pain become severe. Breathing is difficult and accompanied by grunting. There may be nausea, vomiting, headaches, sweating, twitching, shaking, and tingling sensations of the hand. The bite itself may not be prominent and may be overshadowed by the systemic reaction.
I better head down to North St. for a proper fix. The first one is still free, right?
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Get the Whole Story Here...
Monday, September 24, 2007
Weekend Update
Raining on my Parade
The other night (Friday, I believe) I decided it was just plain wrong of me to leave the faucet in my tub dripping. I opened the access panel in the closet behind the tub in search of a shutoff valve, and found none. Why would someone put in a shutoff valve next to a fixture? The genius who plumbed my house had zero foresight. And I know he wasn't a real plumber because the pipe joints are sloppily soldered, the sign of a real novice.
Off I went to the basement in search of the nearest shutoff valve. Unfortunately for me, the plumbing in the basement is a rat's nest of kluged-together plumbing remnants. I'm sure the way they planned the job went something like this:
Cletus: Okay Vern, we have 12' of 1/2" flexible tubing, 8'3" of 3/16" hard copper, 13 elbows, 7 tees, a gallon of solder and a hair dryer. How much you figger we can git done?
Vern: I'd say the whole thing.
And that's how they did it. There are so many pipes running this way and that, that had they planned what they were doing would have been unnecessary. But I'm a little ahead of myself here.
While looking for shutoff valves for the shower, I came across a wet spot on the floor. It wasn't coming in from a wall, the dehumidifier wasn't leaking, and a cursory inspection of the nearby pipes came up negative. I even smelled it, thinking it might be cat pee. Nope, this was water.
Then, a drip landed on my head. I gave the pipes above me a thorough look-see and there was water on my gas line. "Ruh-roh". "Please be condensation, please be condensation." It turned out it was the pipe above the gas line that was leaking; I was mildly relieved. What sucks is that it's not a solder joint, but right smack in the middle of the pipe. I peeled back the asbestos-looking pipe wrap to find a series of small corrosion spots on the pipe. One was leaking and the others looked to be not far behind. I put some emergency leak stopping wrap over the pipe which succeeded only in making it drip further down. Damn!
Since it was late, there was nothing else I could do. Without a trustworthy shutoff valve anywhere in the house, I had to turn off the main line to avoid the inevitable pipe burst in the middle of the night.
Until I get a chance to replace the corroded pipe (and redo the shoddy work the last guy did), I have to plan my water usage so that I can turn the water back on, do what I have to do, and turn it back off again. I do NOT want to come home to a burst pipe!
OH, and while I was inspecting the plumbing, I walked through a spider web and the spider jumped on my head. He may or may not have gnawed on my arm and stomach, but I have a few wicked itchy bites from something.Autumn is Close
The weekend wasn't all leaking pipes and spider bites, it also served as a perfect weekend for bike rides. On Friday I awoke late (recall that I was out on the town until the wee hours of the morning), had breakfast, read a magazine or two in the sunshine, and headed out for a bike ride. My company for this ride had not set ass on a bike in weeks, was undoubtedly tired and hung over from the previous night's debauchery, and had probably not eaten a decent meal all day. Tired, hung over and hungry makes for a bad ride for everyone because you become the weakest link, the person I have to wait for every 1/8th mile.
I try to be forgiving, but at times it's hard. The worst was that when I planned the ride, it was assuming an average speed in the area of 16 MPH. That's slow, but how most group rides go. A 40 mile ride should take about 2.5 hours. However, at 13 MPH with frequent breaks, the ride quickly escalated to nearly 4 hours. I hadn't packed any sandwiches and was getting really hungry and cranky by the end. Lesson learned? Probably not. I prefer company to speed, so the next time I want company I'll probably suffer again.
On the positive side, I did get to take a 4 hour tour of the rolling hills of northern Berkshire county. With the leaves getting ready to change, it was quite the scenic ride.
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
