Recreation Through Endurance

I think most people feel conflicting emotions towards what they should do from an environmental point of view. Sure, I recycle but wouldn't it be better to generate less waste? My SUV doesn't get great gas milage, but it's almost paid off and, well, I just love it. Sometimes, I even leave lights on when I'm not in the room.

There's a ton of debate putting conservation against consumerism, environmental responsibility against freedom of choice. I saw a commercial on TV that finally settled the debate for me on one of the issues.



Actually, I don't fertilize my lawn, but now I have one more reason not to.

It's pretty easy to make the distinction between the two types of sports. One, you have spectator sports. Football, Baseball, well, most anything will a ball. Even if you're a participant, it's probably at the high school or college level and there are more fans than competitors. Generally, there's also one winner and one loser and these are large productions because the quality of the event is determined by viewership.

On the other side are participant sports. Running, biking, etc... With some exceptions, there's more competitors than spectators and the quality of the event is judge either by how likely people are to do it again or how much fun they had. Sure there are some national/international organizations (USAT, UCI, etc) and events (NYC Marathon, Ironman Hawaii), but part of the appeal and attraction is the local aspect of the events.

...but you know all that already.

Mark Wood's been putting on mountain bike time trails for a couple of months with the idea that they're non-competitive and you could come out each week and bike the same course each week to gauge your progress. Racing against yourself. Most importantly, you could eat cookies and drink hot chocolate afterwards. These were a bunch of fun over that last couple months, but he took it a step further yesterday.

At Poor Farm, and notoriously maze-like park, he put together a 10 mile course, which included pretty much every trail and then some. He then took everyone's times from the previous TTs and handicapped each rider to start at different times. In theory, if everyone rode exactly as they had previously, we would cross the finish line at the same time.

Race numbers were made from masking tape, course was marked with chalk, timing was on a clipboard. On a cold, rainy day, a dozen riders showed up to race for a minimal prize, no bragging rights, and the privilege to eat cookies. Sleet bounced off my helmet, I slid off the trail, I recovered from one hill just in time for the next one, and finished within a couple minutes of most everyone else.

Mountain biking has little national organization, some regional, but mostly it's the local, grass-roots nature of it that makes it what it is.

A month or two ago, Liz joined Tri Girl Training with the idea that she could work up to a sprint tri perhaps later this spring. A couple weeks ago, she tells me she found a Tri at the end of the month and asks me if I think she's ready. I guess there was only one way to find out.


Saturday, we got up early, picked her mom up in Hopewell, and got to Smithfield early enough to drive the bike course. There were about 500 people registered and since it included a pool swim, racers were sent off individually at 15-30 second intervals. Liz's predicted swim time seeded her for an 11:07 start. We got to watch quite a few of the swimmers start and talked about pushing off the wall diagonally to get under the lane divider.

Liz's mom and I really got good spots for watching the swim, just outside the pool area next to some large windows. When we saw Liz lining up for the swim start, she was chatting and smiling, so we took that to mean she wasn't too nervous. I think she was a little concerned about the swim until I pointed out "less then 10 minutes and it's over and you can forget about it."

Her swim went well, but I think she was glad when it was over. We had snuck around and into the pool area near the swim exit to cheer her one when she got out of the water. Liz then jogged into transition, which was great and much better than I've been able to do in my tris. While she was transitioning, we hustled over to the bike start to see her go off. She was in a group of about 4 when she mounted the bike and was still in front of them when she disappeared around the corner up the road.

While Liz was on the bike, we went back in to watch some more swimmers go, including a coworker of mine. I had estimated the time it'd take for her to get back so we could see her come in off the bike. We were standing out there for a while, but never saw her come in. I was getting worried that something bad had happened while she was out there, but when we walked past transition, we saw her bike was hung up. She really flew on the bike and ended up with a 10 mile split of 35:59. This meant she was almost done.

It wasn't long after we realized that she was on the run that she finished the 5k and her first triathlon. She was still smiling and even more excited. I was proud of her for doing so well, but mostly for finding something hard and doing it. One thing she did say though was "it was easier than a mountain bike race."

Because if you don't make fun of yourself, someone else will.

White People Like Bicycles

...and marathons.

Hopefully, reading these on my iMac, while drinking my morning coffee, aren't making me late for going to Poor Farm to ride, because I can't tomorrow due to getting a contractor's estimate in our old house. I just hope last night's Pale Ales, which got recycled, while watching movies doesn't effect my riding.

There are people in American history that add depth to our culture in unique and fascinating ways. Not necessarily good people or bad, maybe neither, but they stay with us decades later because what they did was bold. Ken Kesey comes to mind. Another's D.B. Cooper.



It's true, he stole $200,000 ($1 mil in today's money) by scaring dozens of people, caused much panic, and wasted tons of law enforcement efforts. I'm sure any FBI agent would still love to capture him. Still, looking at it the eyes of someone who was maybe a little hopeless, maybe a little angry, maybe someone that felt betrayed by their government in the time of Nixon and Vietnam, and just felt like taking something back.

Of course, the main reason this story stays with us is that we can make up our own minds as to his motivations, actions, and consequences. Did his low clearance skydive kill him and he got what he deserved? Did the cover of rain and night keep him hidden, so he won the lottery he created? Is he living back in society now, holding onto a secret and getting a slight smile as he limps from the result of an injury? A disappearing act of grand proportions.

Perhaps, this story will someday be solved. People like Duane Weber, have admitted to being D.B. Cooper, as he laid on his deathbed. Also, evidence will pop up like in 1980 when Brian Ingram, an 8 year old, found almost $6000 of Cooper's money on a riverbank. Just this week, it's believed that his parachute was found.

I'd like to think he made it. Yet, I don't want the mystery solved. Some stories are better left as legends.

Conventional wisdom says that after intense exercise, one should consume moderate amounts of carbohydrates for faster recovery. Research in the past couple of years has shown that instead of a simple carb drink, a drink that has a 4 to 1 ratio of carbs and protein is works better because the protein help metabolize the carbs or some physiological shit like that.

This has led to new products like Endurox R4that claim to give you these benefits but also tend to be expensive. When looking at the nutritional value, other research has shown you can get the same recovery benefits from chocolate milk.

On the other hand, what I have found out in my poorly thought out recent experience is that 2 pints of sugary, thick diary right before my monday night group run where we planned for speedwork, from a digestive point of view, is about the worst thing a person can do.

Who is she to you?

Andy Thompson, who did the Hilbert Race last weekend, wanted to write up an article for the Richmond Times-Dispatch on the Virginia Off-Road Series. Woody and I were contacted for an interview and the half-page article ran in Friday's paper. You can read it here.

Woody and I have gotten lots of great feedback on the series and the concerns and questions we've been getting is really a compliment to what we're trying to do. I'm just glad to be living in a place where something like this can happen. To put on this Series, we need Richmond to have the shops, Sponsors, Race Directors, trails, and racers, and that hasn't always exsisted here.

Over the last few years, the off-road scene in Richmond has grown tremendously and we feel lucky to be apart of it. 3-4 years ago, few would have predicted that the area would've added so much trail so many races, and so much support from the community. As to where the scene will be 3-4 years from now, I don't think it can be accurately predicted, but I know lots of people with ideas.

Day 4:

Knowing Geoff was out of the race was about the worst news I could have received at that point. Bill could have told me the weather forecast called for the storm of the century, 60 below windchill and zero visibility in the coming days, and I would have been more comforted to hear that than to hear that Geoff was off the trail. I was crushed. I was so, so alone. I wanted to scream, but there was nothing to scream at. The Iditarod Trail? The Iditarod Trail did not care. There was nothing to break on the Iditarod Trail except myself. And I did not want to be broken. I couldn't face that possibility, and yet I couldn't quite turn away from it. I decided the best thing for me to do would be to crawl into the now-staked but still-unheated Ultrasport tent and go to sleep. Things always look better in the morning, I said to myself.

Day 5:

The trail followed rocky, driftwood-strewn gravel bars and long patches of glare ice. It was treacherous riding, and there I was, half-addled and without a helmet, riding it. But the simple act of turning those pedals brought back a wave of confidence that I hadn't felt since I left Puntilla Lake nearly two days before. The wind blew hard at my side. The temperature hovered well below 0. I did not care. I could do this thing, I told myself. It actually was possible. I had the footprints and tire tracks of those who came before to prove it.

From someone that's made it 75 miles into a race, then told "We can't let you go on," I understand the feeling of defeat. I've also been where will power is stronger than the body, which will only bring disaster or success.

Read her story here.

The Hilbert race yesterday was the first race of 2008 and the first race of the new VORS and, damn, it was a good time. With the first race of the year, it's a good chance to prove any fitness gains or losses you've made over the winter.

After much debate, I decided to make this my first Pro/Expert race, hoping to make a decent showing by not finishing last. Sport, I don't believe, is an option anymore. The two races I did last year, I did fairly well in, so that was out. Enduro, another of my favorites, just takes too much time and I wanted to spend some time talking to some friends. That left either Expert or Clydesdale, and though at 208 lbs I qualify, I think I might have received negative comments from my riding buddies, though Liz and I could've had a starting line bonding experience since the Clydes went off with the Beginner Women.

Getting up too early, especially with the time change, I made it out to Hilbert, where there was frost on the ground, with just enough time to get my number plate for the Froze Toes trail run. I chatted with Erin, Patrick, who was also doing the double (run and bike race), and a few others. Ann of RSR surprized me by not being at the starting line. Later I found out she gave everyone a half-hour head start by forgetting to change her clock back. The run was fun and I ran with Patrick most of the time. I took it easy since I was racing later also. I slid out a couple times in the mud, but wasn't one of the few who I saw hit the ground.

Something unfortunate about bike racing, which probably fits with the definition of racing, is not everyone can have a good day. It was Liz's turn yesterday. I watched Liz go off with the beginner women. I couple miles in I was helping Chris McMillian clear a tree that had fallen overnight that was blocking a whoop when Liz came through ahead of several women in her class. She was doing very well! It was a while before I saw her again, but she barely behind one girl in her class and I yelled at her that she was in 2nd. She knew, though I didn't, that another BW had gone ahead and caught up to the Sport Women. She finished a strong 3rd and was awarded for placing!

Telling me about it later, she said she was most happy that she didn't concede the race. After a fall in the mud, she fell to 4th and she knew it. Still pushing on, she caught back up to reclaim her podium spot. That's my girl!

When it was my turn to line up, I was looking around at the field and notice two things. Several riders I knew were doing their first Expert race, like Billy Moffett, Brandon Wright, and Chris McMillian, and myself. The other thing was the biggest names in VA mountain biking were there including a former Olympian. I was about to eat a mud sandwich of pain. The siren went off and I found myself already at the back, which didn't go well with my don't-finish-last strategy. A short road section made a right u-turn onto the singletrack, where I took the inside line and gained about 6 spots. Much better. I went through the normal feelings for the first half-lap of pacing on the guy in front of me and knowing my legs will feel better after a few miles. I stayed in it well for the first two laps. I never felt great, like being able to climb standing up without fatiguing, but I didn't feel horrible either. At the end of the second lap, I was wondering if my fading feeling would pass for a second wind or if my energy was going downhill.

At the half-way point, Brandon, who I'd been trading places with, passed me for the last time and I never saw him again and I saw Billy about a quarter mile behind me. Half a lap later, my chain fell into my spokes and the rest of the Experts passed me. By the end of the third lap, it was just about finishing and I pulled a slow lap by myself, only occasionally passing a couple fatigued Enduros.

In all, it was a great time. I learn some things about racing and maintaining. I learned some things about putting on a series from talking to the director of the Mid-Atlantic Super Series. I got to hang out with a couple hundred of my closest friends. Most of all, I got to see Liz's hard work pay off for her, which was really the best part of the day.

Last week at work, a friend who's from New Jersey, which is I remind him is a suburb of New York City, and is a Yankees fan asked me if I was getting excited for baseball season. What I should have said is that what I really look forward to is spring training.

Today was one of those perfect days with a warm sun and cool breeze and despite my tired legs from the weekend, I had to hit the trail. When I was done, I had to turn around and go back for more. As the trails were much more crowded than normal for a weekday, I wasn't the only one enjoying the weather. I did find out I can cover a certain distance on the bike faster than a couple can get their pants up.

Neither Woody or I know how it happened, but I guess someone at the RTD likes what we're doing.

Try This

Life's full of patterns, some of which we recognize and some of which we don't. With patterns, it either means that certain actions change in predictable manners, but more often they are staying the same. Progress can't be made without change.

My sister's training to do her first half-marathon this spring with an 8k about two months before and was asking me for advice. Since she's done a couple 10ks in the past and maintained her running, I gave her a regimen of intervals followed by increasing distance.

When my mom was visiting last month, she was on the phone with my sister talking about running when I said I wanted to do Monument in 42 minutes, but didn't know if I'd be able to cut 2 minutes off last year's time. My sister suggested intervals. I hadn't recognized, despite my own advice, that my runs had fallen into familiar patterns, cranking my 7.5 mile loop into almost perfect 55 minute runs.

By the way, one of the great things about starting sports late is that you can make progress longer. Had I run track in high school, I wouldn't have posted such slow times early on and probably wouldn't be PRing every year. A sampling of my 10k history:

2002 57.42
2003 51:45
2004 47:13 (spring run)
2004 46:01 (fall run)
2006 45:14
2007 43:48

I haven't posted a 2 minute gain in 4 years. Last night though was my first run under 7 minute miles. There's two months to cut off 15 seconds. All it's going to take is a pattern of intervals.