September 27th, 2008, I’ve had this date circled on my calendar for more than three months. Each time I passed the refrigerator, Ok, each time I closed the refrigerator door after sneaking a goodie, I would look to see if this date was still circled. Why was I looking forward to September 27th? Did I have a big race scheduled? Did I have front row seats to the Red Sox vs. Yankees? Was the new model of Nike trail shoes being introduced? The answer was ‘no’ to all of the above. On September 27, 2008, my wife’s cousin was marrying his fiancé. Now you may be saying to yourself, “Has Anthony gone soft?” Well let me tell you, one; I haven’t gone soft, and two, read on for the explanation.
Now this wedding wasn’t going to be your ordinary, cookie-cutter wedding. This was going to be a wedding with two Italian families involved. My wife’s cousin is half Italian (the good half) and his fiancé is 100% Italian. Well she is technically Sicilian, but I don’t want to start a fight here. Her last name starts with a consonant, is loaded with virtually every vowel, and of course, her last name ends with a vowel. My wife laughs at me, but I knew it was going to be an incredible wedding the second I opened the invitation. My wife’s cousin’s wife’s last name is VERY Italian, actually Sicilian, and would a Sicilian throw a wedding for his only daughter, anything short of the wedding scene in the best movie of all time, The Godfather?
Enough background let me get on with the story. It was an evening wedding on the North Shore of Massachusetts. OK, insert North Shore/Big Hair/IROC/Italian joke here. For those of you not familiar with Massachusetts, the North Shore is not only home to one of the largest enclaves of 1st and 2nd generation Italian families, but some of the finest Italian food, cement contractors, and tuxedo rental shops that rent light blue and burnt rust ruffled tuxedos.
The wedding started promptly at 5:30pm. It was a beautiful ceremony, the groom looked handsome and his bride was beautiful. Other than a few jokes by the priest about threesomes and the groom looking like he wanted to unwrap the bride like a BB gun on Christmas morning, it was pretty uneventful. No time to explain the jokes, but I am sure the higher ups at the church will be keeping a closer tab on the wine. We were out the door and at the reception hall at 7:00pm. Now when I say reception hall, please do not envision your typical function hall at the VFW or American Legion Hall. I should not give the name of the function facility, but everything from the food, to the facility, to the service was amazing, so why not give a great place a plug. The reception location was Spinelli’s. The Irish folk out there must be scratching their heads right about now trying to figure out where Lynnfield is. “When did they rename Lynn?” hahaha
My wife and I drove to the wedding with two other family couples and my father-in-law. The gentlemen dropped the woman off at the front door and we proceeded to park. It was pouring rain that night, and we did not want the women to get too wet. Yea right, we wanted the women to go inside so we could walk around to the other side of the building were the function facility had a retail bakery. My brother-in-law and I bought 12 cannoli and a pound of amaretti (almond macaroon paste) cookies for the ride home. More about that later.
While the wedding party was busy smiling for pictures in the marble foyer, we met up with our wives in the Capri Room where guests were treated the most unbelievable Italian antipasto spread this side Palermo, Sicily. Somehow three plate full of cheeses, olives, roasted peppers, grilled eggplant, and focaccia disappeared. Unfortunately for my wife, I met a runner. That’s right, if you have read my earlier posts, you should be shouting out loud, “She lost you for at least an hour”. Now I have met this runner before, I just didn’t know he was a runner. He is engaged to my wife’s other cousin. He just started running earlier this year and already has a half marathon scheduled. He lives in Winthrop, Massachusetts and has been training with a few Merrimack Valley Striders. Great, training with MVS studs, I give him another two weeks and he’ll be faster than me. Hahaha.
Cocktail hour soon ended and the guests were ushered into the Tuscany Room. I had a smile from ear to ear and my wife kept asking how much I had to drink. I tried to explain to her that I was not drunk, I haven’t had a drink all night, why chance ruining the night ahead. I tried to explain that I was excited becasue I had just finish reading the menu and thought this could quite possibly be the best Italian Wedding Extravaganza ever. You guessed it; I got ‘The Look’. Here was the menu
Primo Course- Italian Escarole Wedding Soup
Primo (2) Course- Gemelli pasta in marinara sauce
Antipasto Course- . Caesar (get it, haha) Salad served in an edible tortilla bowl.
Secondo Course- Filet Mignon & Baked Stuffed shrimp served with contorni (veggies on the side)
Dolce Course- Wedding Cake, assorted Italian pastries
A bottle of Montepulciano and Chardonnay were also placed at each table.
I will not go into detail about how amazing each course was, please check my blog on The Food Network for the details. In short, the food was so good that if I thought it would’ve been appropriate, I would’ve licked each plate clean.
I would like to share some highlights:
There were amazing, heartfelt speeches by the best man (brother of the groom and all around great guy), the maid of honor (who’s speech had the alert single guys frothing), and the brother of the bride who delivered a wonderful speech about how when he sized up his future brother in-law, he immediately realized he was a good guy and was OK with his sister dating him. The older brother was just doing his Italian duty.
Having my family (technically my wife’s family, but I love them so much I call them ‘my family’) dancing between the two Primo courses. This party was starting early.
Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I must have kissed over 100 people that evening. Guys too. The Irish folk out there must really be scratching their heads now. By now you should realize I’m Italian. I’m proud to be Italian. We hug, we kiss, we laugh, and we show our emotions. When we see family members, we pull them in and give a big hug and kiss on the cheek to let them know we are happy to see, and be with them.
Realizing that when a DJ plays the Lou Monte’s, “Lazy Mary” at an Italian Wedding, he better turn up the volume if people want to hear the ‘artist’s words’. Everyone in the room, or at least the Italians, belted out the entire song.
Talking running with my brother in-law Anthony. Two runners at this wedding, awesome. Even the Irish folk know you get thrown out of the Italian Club if you don’t name one of your sons Anthony. Anthony and his wife will be running the BAA Half Marathon again this year. Now let me explain who Anthony is. Anthony is a great brother in-law, a jovial guy, and a legend at the dinner table. Anthony is quite familiar with receiving ‘The Look’ from his wife as well, is it the name? He not only holds the record for eating double cheeseburgers at now defunct Tastee greasy spoon in Cambridge, Massachusetts, (He woofed down seven double cheeseburgers at 2:00am one evening, the last one with bacon), he is famous for his “any leftovers in the fridge will make a great omelette’. He competes in the Clydesdale division. He is not fat, he is just big. When I say big, I mean solid. He played high school and college football. We're still not sure if he ‘played’ college football, but we know he practiced and has a photo of himself in uniform that until recently was proudly displayed in his downstairs bathroom, which is referred to as “Tony’s Throne”. I still have the coffee mug with his college football photo he gave me one Christmas. He is a 200+ lb eating, drinking, laughing, talking, and running machine. If you looked at him for the first time, you would never image he has two half marathons with very respectable times under his belt. He is the only person I know that trained for a half marathon and gained weight. He is type of guy you hope sits next to you on a long flight. You will still be laughing as you wait for your bags at the luggage carousel.
I will wrap this up soon, but I must share one last story from this wonderful evening. Every wedding I attend, I always make sure to seek out the bride and groom’s parents, introduce myself and thank them for inviting me to the wedding.. When I informed my Italian brother-in laws’ my about my intention to meet and thank the bride’s mother and father, on cue, they immediately broke into The Godfather script when Luca Brasi was practicing his speech before meeting Don Corleone at his daughter’s wedding. It went something like this, “Hey Anthony, you need to tell Mr. _ _ _ _ _ _ that you are honored and grateful that he has invited you to the wedding of his daughter and that you hope their first child be a masculine child”. After the wine came flying out of my nose and the entire table stopped laughing, I made my way across the room and introduced myself to the bride’s parents. Here is how it went:
Me: “Excuse me Mr.& Mrs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _, my name is Anthony Mavilia, I am married to your son in-law’s cousin. I want to thank you for inviting me and my wife to the wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony, your daughter looks beautiful, and it has been wonderful to share this special night with your family.
Bride’s father: “Ah, Anthony, it is nice to meet you as well, thank you for sharing in this special day, I’m glad you are having such a nice time”. The bride’s father then said, “You are family now, come here”. He pulled me in and gave me a hug and kiss. I talked with him, his wife, and their son for a few moments and right before I left, his son leaned over and asked me, “Are you going to wish that his first grandson be a masculine child?” I could not contain my laughter. The three of them pulled me in for another hug and kiss and I was on my way back to my table to share my story.
What an amazing evening. Two great families, a beautiful ceremony, an amazing reception, and great conversation with new and old friends. And did I mention that there was running talk involved? Yeah!!!!!!!!!
Back to the cannoli, amaretti, and the long ride home. I was so stuffed when I left the reception that I was only able to eat two cannoli on the 1 ½ hour ride home. Sunday morning was going to come awfully early. Sunday mornings mean a 8:00am Group Run with the Squannacook River Runners. Although I was only able to force down two cannoli on the way home, the next morning before the group run, I woke up swinging. In honor of my brother in-law Anthony, I have two words for you “CANNOLI OMLETTE”.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
What Did I Miss?
I like running. Actually, let me rearticulate that, I really like running. So when an injury crept up on me earlier this summer, I was forced to modify my training routine and rediscovered what was really important in my life.
In early July, after a nice relaxing 45 minute nap in my local MRI tube, I was informed by my orthopedic physician that I needed to stop running for a few months. I’ve heard this speech before so I was somewhat prepared for it. I immediately accepted my fate and like any semi-demented runner, thought to myself, “I can accept this, I’ll just have to increase my training in other areas”. A few years ago, the same orthopedic physician (who is a runner), informed me that I, “Should not run for at least one year”. Well, that one year turned into 15 months of no running, but turned me into a cycling and swimming monster. A few months ago, when he broke the bad news to me once again, he immediately knew what I was going to ask next, and responded “If you ask when you can start running again, I am going to extend your down time by one month”. I got the picture.
Naturally my wife pretended to be sad that I wouldn’t be able to run for a few months. Now my wife loves me and I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me injured or in pain, but when I broke the news to her, she had very hard time trying to conceal her devious smile. My wife has a terrible poker face. My wife frequently admits that she loves it when I’m home. I’m lucky; most guys I know have wives who like when they’re out of the house and out of their hair. I take it as a compliment that my wife likes it when I am around, as long as I shower and shave occasionally. My wife gets extremely nervous when I head out for a 2+ hour run in the woods. I wonder if she thinks I’m going to find an undiscovered tribe in the woods of suburban Boston and take up residency. She didn’t have to say the words. After 10+ years of marriage, I knew exactly what she was thinking………."I have him for the entire summer”. It was as if she had an LCD screen for a forehead and horrible video loops of us shopping, picnicking, painting the bathroom, and planting flowers were endlessly playing. Like the one that had us shopping for new bed sheets at Bed Bath & Beyond while my running club was out, well, out running. I imagined another video that had us picking out curtains at Linen & Things on a Thursday evening, which is the night when my running club holds its weekly headlamp run. Another video had me planting flowers on Marathon Monday. The horror, how could she be smiling? I love spending time and shopping with my wife, she is an amazing and incredible human being. But I always made sure that spending time and the shopping thing didn't conflict with my running schedule.
Am I addicted to running? Yes. Do I love spending time with my family? Yes. Has the balance between the two loves of my life been out of whack? More often than not I hate to admit. Have I taken personal days at work so I could get in a few more long workouts before a big race? Yes. You get the idea.
One of the benefits of being on the sideline for a period of time is that you realize what you miss at home when you’re out on the trails banging out the miles. The first week of not being able to run seemed like a gift. I caught up with all my little unfinished projects around the house that always seemed to take a back seat to running.Before my injury, there were countless times that I would place my running ahead of my own family. Did I feel the shame in sneaking out the house in my running shoes while my boys were playing in their room? Not really, it was just something I did. In the past I frequently left two little boys with sad faces in the driveway holding their wiffleball bats and balls. All they wanted to do was to play Red Sox vs. Yankees in the backyard for a few minutes with Daddy, but my running always came first. How could I play wiffleball when I had to get my miles in, I had to check off the box on my training schedule. I thought I could play wiffleball anytime, there was no such thing as a wiffleball schedule. My running schedule said I had to run, and I did. Didn’t they know Daddy was training for the next big race? They should have, come on, they are 6 and 3 years old. Why couldn’t they understand how important it was to Daddy that he shaves a few seconds of his 20k time? Imagine that, blowing off my two boys for a run. Where were my priorities?
I had an epiphany that I will never forget during my second week of running inactivity. My oldest son came up to me and said, “Daddy, it’s awesome when you play with us every day”. Ouch!!!! Image that, a 6 year old pointing out to an adult how nice it is to spend time together. I felt like a schmuck. From that moment I vowed that I would never put anything, especially training, ahead of time with my family. In the future, I will strive for a balance. I know I can do it. I need to do it. I have to do it. I will do it.
I always thought that when my family came to a race with me, they were there to check out Daddy competing. Don’t get me wrong, I am sure my wife likes checking me out in my wetsuit or tri-suit (Hey-Now). I know, like I’ve stated before in other blog entries, I’m an idiot. I’m a guy, we like Maxim Magazine, beer, sports, fast cars, and fast women (not necessarily in that order). One of the greatest things after finishing a race has to be when my family finds me; I get a big group hug and plenty of kisses. Before my injury, I just assumed I received all those hugs and kisses because they were watching the clock and were impressed with my time. Ok, it would be a good time to throw in the idiot quote again, but I will spare you, way too obvious. Well, I finally realized they didn’t care about my time, my wife didn't like checking me out my tight tri-suit (well, maybe she does, she won’t admit it though), my family wouldn’t care if I finished first or last, they don’t care about the clock. I would get the same hugs and kisses if I DNF'd or finished first overall. It took an injury to realize that the people I love just want to be there and spend time with me. To quote the great Homer Simpson, “Dooh”.
I'm proud to announce that I recently completed my first run in over two months. It was a nice easy 5 mile off-road jaunt with my running club. Everything went fine, no post run pain. I'm on my way back. It is not too late to train for the incredible fall races offered here in the Northeast. And it is not too late for some great wiffleball games in the backyard.
So what did I do this summer? Hopefully if you ask my boys, they will tell you they had the coolest summer ever. I hope they would tell you about hanging out with Daddy everyday in the pool, about Daddy playing wiffleball with them, about our hikes and bike rides, about our adventure days, and ultimately I hope they would tell you that Daddy was there for them.
What else did I do this summer? Well if you happen to visit me at home and see my smiling wife, please ask her to see our new bed sheets, the fresh paint in the bathroom, the new curtains, and the lovely flowers around my house.
In early July, after a nice relaxing 45 minute nap in my local MRI tube, I was informed by my orthopedic physician that I needed to stop running for a few months. I’ve heard this speech before so I was somewhat prepared for it. I immediately accepted my fate and like any semi-demented runner, thought to myself, “I can accept this, I’ll just have to increase my training in other areas”. A few years ago, the same orthopedic physician (who is a runner), informed me that I, “Should not run for at least one year”. Well, that one year turned into 15 months of no running, but turned me into a cycling and swimming monster. A few months ago, when he broke the bad news to me once again, he immediately knew what I was going to ask next, and responded “If you ask when you can start running again, I am going to extend your down time by one month”. I got the picture.
Naturally my wife pretended to be sad that I wouldn’t be able to run for a few months. Now my wife loves me and I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me injured or in pain, but when I broke the news to her, she had very hard time trying to conceal her devious smile. My wife has a terrible poker face. My wife frequently admits that she loves it when I’m home. I’m lucky; most guys I know have wives who like when they’re out of the house and out of their hair. I take it as a compliment that my wife likes it when I am around, as long as I shower and shave occasionally. My wife gets extremely nervous when I head out for a 2+ hour run in the woods. I wonder if she thinks I’m going to find an undiscovered tribe in the woods of suburban Boston and take up residency. She didn’t have to say the words. After 10+ years of marriage, I knew exactly what she was thinking………."I have him for the entire summer”. It was as if she had an LCD screen for a forehead and horrible video loops of us shopping, picnicking, painting the bathroom, and planting flowers were endlessly playing. Like the one that had us shopping for new bed sheets at Bed Bath & Beyond while my running club was out, well, out running. I imagined another video that had us picking out curtains at Linen & Things on a Thursday evening, which is the night when my running club holds its weekly headlamp run. Another video had me planting flowers on Marathon Monday. The horror, how could she be smiling? I love spending time and shopping with my wife, she is an amazing and incredible human being. But I always made sure that spending time and the shopping thing didn't conflict with my running schedule.
Am I addicted to running? Yes. Do I love spending time with my family? Yes. Has the balance between the two loves of my life been out of whack? More often than not I hate to admit. Have I taken personal days at work so I could get in a few more long workouts before a big race? Yes. You get the idea.
One of the benefits of being on the sideline for a period of time is that you realize what you miss at home when you’re out on the trails banging out the miles. The first week of not being able to run seemed like a gift. I caught up with all my little unfinished projects around the house that always seemed to take a back seat to running.Before my injury, there were countless times that I would place my running ahead of my own family. Did I feel the shame in sneaking out the house in my running shoes while my boys were playing in their room? Not really, it was just something I did. In the past I frequently left two little boys with sad faces in the driveway holding their wiffleball bats and balls. All they wanted to do was to play Red Sox vs. Yankees in the backyard for a few minutes with Daddy, but my running always came first. How could I play wiffleball when I had to get my miles in, I had to check off the box on my training schedule. I thought I could play wiffleball anytime, there was no such thing as a wiffleball schedule. My running schedule said I had to run, and I did. Didn’t they know Daddy was training for the next big race? They should have, come on, they are 6 and 3 years old. Why couldn’t they understand how important it was to Daddy that he shaves a few seconds of his 20k time? Imagine that, blowing off my two boys for a run. Where were my priorities?
I had an epiphany that I will never forget during my second week of running inactivity. My oldest son came up to me and said, “Daddy, it’s awesome when you play with us every day”. Ouch!!!! Image that, a 6 year old pointing out to an adult how nice it is to spend time together. I felt like a schmuck. From that moment I vowed that I would never put anything, especially training, ahead of time with my family. In the future, I will strive for a balance. I know I can do it. I need to do it. I have to do it. I will do it.
I always thought that when my family came to a race with me, they were there to check out Daddy competing. Don’t get me wrong, I am sure my wife likes checking me out in my wetsuit or tri-suit (Hey-Now). I know, like I’ve stated before in other blog entries, I’m an idiot. I’m a guy, we like Maxim Magazine, beer, sports, fast cars, and fast women (not necessarily in that order). One of the greatest things after finishing a race has to be when my family finds me; I get a big group hug and plenty of kisses. Before my injury, I just assumed I received all those hugs and kisses because they were watching the clock and were impressed with my time. Ok, it would be a good time to throw in the idiot quote again, but I will spare you, way too obvious. Well, I finally realized they didn’t care about my time, my wife didn't like checking me out my tight tri-suit (well, maybe she does, she won’t admit it though), my family wouldn’t care if I finished first or last, they don’t care about the clock. I would get the same hugs and kisses if I DNF'd or finished first overall. It took an injury to realize that the people I love just want to be there and spend time with me. To quote the great Homer Simpson, “Dooh”.
I'm proud to announce that I recently completed my first run in over two months. It was a nice easy 5 mile off-road jaunt with my running club. Everything went fine, no post run pain. I'm on my way back. It is not too late to train for the incredible fall races offered here in the Northeast. And it is not too late for some great wiffleball games in the backyard.
So what did I do this summer? Hopefully if you ask my boys, they will tell you they had the coolest summer ever. I hope they would tell you about hanging out with Daddy everyday in the pool, about Daddy playing wiffleball with them, about our hikes and bike rides, about our adventure days, and ultimately I hope they would tell you that Daddy was there for them.
What else did I do this summer? Well if you happen to visit me at home and see my smiling wife, please ask her to see our new bed sheets, the fresh paint in the bathroom, the new curtains, and the lovely flowers around my house.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Race Report - Hampshire 100
Race Report
2008 Hampshire 100, Sunday August 17, 2008 Greenfield, NH
Race weekend started innocently enough Saturday afternoon at Greenfield State Park. Race packet pick-up was scheduled for Saturday afternoon from 3:00 to 9:00pm. All racers were provided with a free campsite the night before the race. No hookups, but hey this is New Hampshire, deal with it.
I arrived at the check-in center around 4:30pm and promptly was welcomed to the Hampshire 100 by none other than the Race Director, Randi Whitney who was just returning after making sure the course was clear and well marked. I was informed that a homemade dinner of veggie and meat lasagna would soon be ready and available for a very small donation to a local charity. I was directed to the open camping field which was 100 feet from the start line and informed to ‘pick a spot’. There was a cool, almost bohemian laid back vibe in the air.
My tent on Saturday evening was my Toyota 4Runner. With the seats folded down, an air mattress, a few comforters, I was all set. I pulled to the back of the field away from the main road and started to ready my tent, meaning I cleaned out my truck. I soon made a fast friend with a great guy named Gerry who pulled in next to me. Gerry lives in Mashpee, Massachusetts. After talking for a few minutes, we soon realized we had a lot in common. We both enjoyed riding the single-track on Otis AFB, we both had small children, and we were both looking forward to a quiet night without spouses or kids.
Soon the dinner bell rang and Gerry and I made our way over to the Gazebo for dinner. Gerry snaked the last piece of meat lasagna, but I was more than happy with the veggie version. What a great homemade pre-race meal for only $4.00. It was starting to get dark and I informed Gerry I brought a few movies with me to watch on my kid’s portable dual screen DVD player. We decided upon the movie Old School starring Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn. We soon had 10-12 people watching the movie with us, which was cool. It was pretty funny to look around and not see anyone eating popcorn or drinking out of mega 58 ounce jumbo jugs, but to see people with shaved legs sucking on Cliff Shots.
For me lights out was at 10:45pm, 5:15am was going to come very early. It was colder than it should have been for late August in New Hampshire, the temperature dropped to just above 40 degrees. Good thing I brought two comforters. The thoughtful and devious race director decided to set off a car alarm to ensure that everyone was up and ready for the mandatory rider meeting at 6:15am. I was up at 5:00am filling water bottles, packing my drop bags for the fuel stops along the course, and taping Hammer Gels to any open space along the top tube of my bike.
At 5:30am and only 54 degrees outside, I shuffled the 200 feet to the start line and enjoyed a breakfast of 4 Hammer Gels, 4 Endurolyte Capsules, 1 bagel with peanut butter, and 2 Power Crunch Bars. The rider meeting started promptly at 6:15am and the main themes were to stay on the course, be respectful to the over 60 miles of private land we were soon to ride over, up, and down on, and in Forest Gump style, "Don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself killed. " Gerry leaned over to me and said in a perfect Forest Gump impersonation, "I hope I don't let him down." Too funny. Immediately after the meeting, the organizers started staging the riders. There were 23 waves and each minute a new wave was started. The first wave of riders was promptly started at 6:45am. I was assigned to wave 13. My friend Gerry was assigned to wave 11. My wave started at exactly 6:58am. I remember feeling cold in my short sleeve shirt and wondering if I should have worn my arm warmers for the first few miles. I soon realized I wasn’t going to need arm warmers.
The first 5 miles were pretty flat and open and it was difficult to ‘stay back’. This section of the course consisted of an old railroad bed and class 5 & 6 dirt roads. It was wide open and screaming for speed, but I did not take the bait, I settled into a nice high cadence slowing warming up for the long day ahead. There wasn’t much passing at this point, people were still in packs of 3-6, nervously talking about what horrors we would soon face.
Somewhere around mile 6, we headed into some MTB specific single-track. I was excited that I caught up with my buddy Gerry. I had some trouble at first getting stuck behind some slower riders on the single-track, but figured out that if I just asked someone if I could pass, they would let me. It felt good to catch and pass some riders from earlier waves, but I decided to slow down to ensure that these same riders wouldn’t be passing me later in day. My goals at this point of the race were warm up and conserve energy. There were a few challenging hills before the first fuel stop at mile 10, but it was early in the race and everyone should have been strong at this point. I stopped quickly at Fuel Station #1 to refill one bottle and grab a few M&M’s.
What followed after mile 10 was pure MTB hell. We started an extended muddy technical climb that required concentration, balance, and power. All riders who made it to the top of the first sustained climb were entertained by a Fiddler!!!!!! Not sure of the tune being played, but it was a nice distraction. After that, there was more single-track, then some double track, and some dirt roads, some of it technical, most of it muddy…it’s fuzzy.
I finally made it to the Fuel Station #2 (18 mile mark) and I was in need of some restocking. To this point, I had sucked down almost 60 ounces of water, 1 bottle of Heed, 1 bottle of Perpertuem, 10 Endurolyte Capsules, and 5 Hammer Gels. I actually got off my bike and stretched for a minute while the wonderful volunteers refilled my Camelback and bottles.
From mile 18 to mile 25, the racers were entertained by mud bogs, horrendous climbs, ultra technical bench-cut single-track, and a 1 mile section under a set of power lines that was more hike-a-bike than ride-a-bike. It seemed to me at this stage of the race that the course was reaching up and attempting to slap the confidence out of the riders. The course seemed to be announcing that anyone can ride technical single-track for a few hours, but wanted to know how many of us could stay on track for 8+ hours?
The mud bogs were starting to take a toll on my legs by mile 27. Now when I say mud bogs, I do not mean nice 2-3 inch patches of mud you can go flying through, these were 1-2 foot deep sections of tire sucking mud with no bailout points. Most of the mud bogs encountered were an average of 15 feet in length. At this point in the race, the racers were completely spread out, occasionally if you crested a peak, you could look ahead or behind and see a sole competitor somewhere on the course, but for the most part, we were all alone fighting our own demons. The temperature was slowly creeping up as the morning wore on, at first I thought I was sweating so much because of all the climbing, but I heard a volunteer yell at one of the crossings that is was now over 81 degrees and we should all adjust our fluid intake.
I soon made it to Fuel Station #3 which was a drop station for our self packed bags. I ditched my bike, quickly found my bag and stuffed my pockets with more Hammer Gels, Hammer Bars, and Endurolytes. The volunteers once again refilled my Camelback and bottles and I was on the trails again. Shortly after Fuel Station #3 the real climbing started. This climb was a couple of miles long and just when you started to get tired, it got steeper. This climb was also exposed to the blazing sun. I finally gave in to the climb and hike-a-bike part duex started, I joined a conga line of hikers and we huffed it the final 600 meters to the top. At the top there was no rest for the weary, only the agony of a long technical decent awaited. This decent was long, narrow, and rocky. There wasn’t one section of this downhill you could relax; at least different muscles were now being battered.
We were actually rewarded at the bottom of the downhill with a pancake flat 3 mile section. The only problem was that this section was a sandy dirt road, which meant a higher gear and higher cadence was needed. I remember this section fondly because my legs started to cramp. I remember screaming out loud that "I'm not even at the half way point yet". I didn’t panic, but I did stop and reference my fluid/bodymass/exertion chart. I realized that up to this point in the race, I did not have to make a ‘pit-stop’ and I was probably dehydrated. While on the side of the road, I sucked down 24 ounces of electrolyte replacement and broke open 3 Endurolytes and sublingually ingested them (Hammer Nutrition Tech Tip). Within two minutes my cramping was gone and I was back on the road. I was soon climbing again and feeling OK. I ended up catching an older gentleman at the top of the climb and I asked him if he wanted me to lead the way down (like I knew where we were going). He said he knew the course and I could follow him. I was surprised at our speed; it was so nice to finally ride with someone and was a lot less boring than riding alone. We were just about at the bottom of the huge decent when the gentlemen starting doing cartwheels right in front of me. It looked like he wasn’t able to clear a washout and went over the bars headfirst. I immediately jumped of my bike to help and after a quick trauma assessment, determined that his racing day was over. He probably had a broken ankle and broken tib/fib. He also complained of hip pain. I looked around for log to splint his leg with and soon found one. I asked if he had any spare tubes, and he did. So right there on the side of the trail, I splinted his entire left leg with a log and three inner tubes. By the way, I did use his inner tubes (inside joke, I did not want to get DQ’d for lending equipment to others).
In total I spent 26 minutes with this injured racer. I wondered to myself if I could apply for EMS credits. The man did not complain of back or neck pain and wanted me to ride on. The next manned intersection was only 1 mile away and I raced there to inform the course marshal that medical attention was needed.
I will not continue to bore you with sentence after sentence about how steep, rocky, muddy, and technical the course was, but the rest of the course was steep, rocky, muddy and technical. My cramps eventually disappeared as did my power. I never bonked. I finally had to pit-stop at mile 45. I made it up the final 6 mile climb at mile 51 and somehow held on to make it back down Crotched Mountain. In the end, I somehow avoided the MTB version of the Death March.
Thinking back I did actually enjoy a few moments and sections of this course. It was difficult to do so during the race. The river crossing that I rode thru will always stay with me. I was riding in chest deep water cursing myself for not having a snorkel just in case the water got 6 inches deeper.
There was an absolutely epic 2 mile section of smooth, mud free single-track that has to rank up there as one of the best sections of trail I have ever had the privilege of riding. I eventually finished in just over 9 hours and 23 minutes. I was pleased with my first off-road endurance event and was stoked to find out that I placed 1st overall in my class and 1st overall in my age group.
Highlights:
1. Absolutely the most scenic course ever!!!!!!!
2. Great day mechanically, no equipment malfunctions or flats
3. Riding through a chest deep river (approx 60 feet).
4. Finishing 1st overall in my class and age division and bringing home a sweet set of wind chimes that are shaped like bicycle sprockets (quite possible the coolest award ever).
5. The volunteers (Saints) and well stocked Fuel Stops.
Lowlights
1. 84 degree day
2. Being on my bike for 9 hours 23 minutes.
3. Having to stop for 28 minutes to splint a competitor's leg with a log and spare inner tubes (Race Officials wanted to adjust my time, but I didn't care, the poor guy had a broken ankle, and leg, I needed a rest at that point also).
4. The 100's of mud pits being un-ride-able and many waist deep
5. My legs starting to cramp at mile 43. Way too early.
6. Ingesting over 300 ounces of water, 200 ounces of electrolyte replacement, 20 Fig Newtons, 40 Enduralyte capsules, 20 gels, and assorted other m&m's, cookies, all the while still losing 7 pounds of weight after the race.
7. Having to bargain with myself after mile 50 to take in nutrition...........Sample script “If I just have one more gel, I won't have to have another Fig Newton for 3 more miles”...the horror.
What did I take away from this experience?
1. Training in the Groton State Forest will not prepare you for the 8000+ feet of climbing in this race, no matter how much you train
2. As long as you ride for 9 ½ hours, you can eat and drink like a Viking and still lose almost 8 pounds.
3. That leaving for vacation immediately after the race and having to chase my little guys around StoryLand and through the Polar Caves in not the ideal way to recover.
4. Do not try to hop over logs or navigate a rock garden with completely zapped of power. Late in race, riding over a 8 inch log was a MAJOR challenge.
2008 Hampshire 100, Sunday August 17, 2008 Greenfield, NH
Race weekend started innocently enough Saturday afternoon at Greenfield State Park. Race packet pick-up was scheduled for Saturday afternoon from 3:00 to 9:00pm. All racers were provided with a free campsite the night before the race. No hookups, but hey this is New Hampshire, deal with it.
I arrived at the check-in center around 4:30pm and promptly was welcomed to the Hampshire 100 by none other than the Race Director, Randi Whitney who was just returning after making sure the course was clear and well marked. I was informed that a homemade dinner of veggie and meat lasagna would soon be ready and available for a very small donation to a local charity. I was directed to the open camping field which was 100 feet from the start line and informed to ‘pick a spot’. There was a cool, almost bohemian laid back vibe in the air.
My tent on Saturday evening was my Toyota 4Runner. With the seats folded down, an air mattress, a few comforters, I was all set. I pulled to the back of the field away from the main road and started to ready my tent, meaning I cleaned out my truck. I soon made a fast friend with a great guy named Gerry who pulled in next to me. Gerry lives in Mashpee, Massachusetts. After talking for a few minutes, we soon realized we had a lot in common. We both enjoyed riding the single-track on Otis AFB, we both had small children, and we were both looking forward to a quiet night without spouses or kids.
Soon the dinner bell rang and Gerry and I made our way over to the Gazebo for dinner. Gerry snaked the last piece of meat lasagna, but I was more than happy with the veggie version. What a great homemade pre-race meal for only $4.00. It was starting to get dark and I informed Gerry I brought a few movies with me to watch on my kid’s portable dual screen DVD player. We decided upon the movie Old School starring Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn. We soon had 10-12 people watching the movie with us, which was cool. It was pretty funny to look around and not see anyone eating popcorn or drinking out of mega 58 ounce jumbo jugs, but to see people with shaved legs sucking on Cliff Shots.
For me lights out was at 10:45pm, 5:15am was going to come very early. It was colder than it should have been for late August in New Hampshire, the temperature dropped to just above 40 degrees. Good thing I brought two comforters. The thoughtful and devious race director decided to set off a car alarm to ensure that everyone was up and ready for the mandatory rider meeting at 6:15am. I was up at 5:00am filling water bottles, packing my drop bags for the fuel stops along the course, and taping Hammer Gels to any open space along the top tube of my bike.
At 5:30am and only 54 degrees outside, I shuffled the 200 feet to the start line and enjoyed a breakfast of 4 Hammer Gels, 4 Endurolyte Capsules, 1 bagel with peanut butter, and 2 Power Crunch Bars. The rider meeting started promptly at 6:15am and the main themes were to stay on the course, be respectful to the over 60 miles of private land we were soon to ride over, up, and down on, and in Forest Gump style, "Don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself killed. " Gerry leaned over to me and said in a perfect Forest Gump impersonation, "I hope I don't let him down." Too funny. Immediately after the meeting, the organizers started staging the riders. There were 23 waves and each minute a new wave was started. The first wave of riders was promptly started at 6:45am. I was assigned to wave 13. My friend Gerry was assigned to wave 11. My wave started at exactly 6:58am. I remember feeling cold in my short sleeve shirt and wondering if I should have worn my arm warmers for the first few miles. I soon realized I wasn’t going to need arm warmers.
The first 5 miles were pretty flat and open and it was difficult to ‘stay back’. This section of the course consisted of an old railroad bed and class 5 & 6 dirt roads. It was wide open and screaming for speed, but I did not take the bait, I settled into a nice high cadence slowing warming up for the long day ahead. There wasn’t much passing at this point, people were still in packs of 3-6, nervously talking about what horrors we would soon face.
Somewhere around mile 6, we headed into some MTB specific single-track. I was excited that I caught up with my buddy Gerry. I had some trouble at first getting stuck behind some slower riders on the single-track, but figured out that if I just asked someone if I could pass, they would let me. It felt good to catch and pass some riders from earlier waves, but I decided to slow down to ensure that these same riders wouldn’t be passing me later in day. My goals at this point of the race were warm up and conserve energy. There were a few challenging hills before the first fuel stop at mile 10, but it was early in the race and everyone should have been strong at this point. I stopped quickly at Fuel Station #1 to refill one bottle and grab a few M&M’s.
What followed after mile 10 was pure MTB hell. We started an extended muddy technical climb that required concentration, balance, and power. All riders who made it to the top of the first sustained climb were entertained by a Fiddler!!!!!! Not sure of the tune being played, but it was a nice distraction. After that, there was more single-track, then some double track, and some dirt roads, some of it technical, most of it muddy…it’s fuzzy.
I finally made it to the Fuel Station #2 (18 mile mark) and I was in need of some restocking. To this point, I had sucked down almost 60 ounces of water, 1 bottle of Heed, 1 bottle of Perpertuem, 10 Endurolyte Capsules, and 5 Hammer Gels. I actually got off my bike and stretched for a minute while the wonderful volunteers refilled my Camelback and bottles.
From mile 18 to mile 25, the racers were entertained by mud bogs, horrendous climbs, ultra technical bench-cut single-track, and a 1 mile section under a set of power lines that was more hike-a-bike than ride-a-bike. It seemed to me at this stage of the race that the course was reaching up and attempting to slap the confidence out of the riders. The course seemed to be announcing that anyone can ride technical single-track for a few hours, but wanted to know how many of us could stay on track for 8+ hours?
The mud bogs were starting to take a toll on my legs by mile 27. Now when I say mud bogs, I do not mean nice 2-3 inch patches of mud you can go flying through, these were 1-2 foot deep sections of tire sucking mud with no bailout points. Most of the mud bogs encountered were an average of 15 feet in length. At this point in the race, the racers were completely spread out, occasionally if you crested a peak, you could look ahead or behind and see a sole competitor somewhere on the course, but for the most part, we were all alone fighting our own demons. The temperature was slowly creeping up as the morning wore on, at first I thought I was sweating so much because of all the climbing, but I heard a volunteer yell at one of the crossings that is was now over 81 degrees and we should all adjust our fluid intake.
I soon made it to Fuel Station #3 which was a drop station for our self packed bags. I ditched my bike, quickly found my bag and stuffed my pockets with more Hammer Gels, Hammer Bars, and Endurolytes. The volunteers once again refilled my Camelback and bottles and I was on the trails again. Shortly after Fuel Station #3 the real climbing started. This climb was a couple of miles long and just when you started to get tired, it got steeper. This climb was also exposed to the blazing sun. I finally gave in to the climb and hike-a-bike part duex started, I joined a conga line of hikers and we huffed it the final 600 meters to the top. At the top there was no rest for the weary, only the agony of a long technical decent awaited. This decent was long, narrow, and rocky. There wasn’t one section of this downhill you could relax; at least different muscles were now being battered.
We were actually rewarded at the bottom of the downhill with a pancake flat 3 mile section. The only problem was that this section was a sandy dirt road, which meant a higher gear and higher cadence was needed. I remember this section fondly because my legs started to cramp. I remember screaming out loud that "I'm not even at the half way point yet". I didn’t panic, but I did stop and reference my fluid/bodymass/exertion chart. I realized that up to this point in the race, I did not have to make a ‘pit-stop’ and I was probably dehydrated. While on the side of the road, I sucked down 24 ounces of electrolyte replacement and broke open 3 Endurolytes and sublingually ingested them (Hammer Nutrition Tech Tip). Within two minutes my cramping was gone and I was back on the road. I was soon climbing again and feeling OK. I ended up catching an older gentleman at the top of the climb and I asked him if he wanted me to lead the way down (like I knew where we were going). He said he knew the course and I could follow him. I was surprised at our speed; it was so nice to finally ride with someone and was a lot less boring than riding alone. We were just about at the bottom of the huge decent when the gentlemen starting doing cartwheels right in front of me. It looked like he wasn’t able to clear a washout and went over the bars headfirst. I immediately jumped of my bike to help and after a quick trauma assessment, determined that his racing day was over. He probably had a broken ankle and broken tib/fib. He also complained of hip pain. I looked around for log to splint his leg with and soon found one. I asked if he had any spare tubes, and he did. So right there on the side of the trail, I splinted his entire left leg with a log and three inner tubes. By the way, I did use his inner tubes (inside joke, I did not want to get DQ’d for lending equipment to others).
In total I spent 26 minutes with this injured racer. I wondered to myself if I could apply for EMS credits. The man did not complain of back or neck pain and wanted me to ride on. The next manned intersection was only 1 mile away and I raced there to inform the course marshal that medical attention was needed.
I will not continue to bore you with sentence after sentence about how steep, rocky, muddy, and technical the course was, but the rest of the course was steep, rocky, muddy and technical. My cramps eventually disappeared as did my power. I never bonked. I finally had to pit-stop at mile 45. I made it up the final 6 mile climb at mile 51 and somehow held on to make it back down Crotched Mountain. In the end, I somehow avoided the MTB version of the Death March.
Thinking back I did actually enjoy a few moments and sections of this course. It was difficult to do so during the race. The river crossing that I rode thru will always stay with me. I was riding in chest deep water cursing myself for not having a snorkel just in case the water got 6 inches deeper.
There was an absolutely epic 2 mile section of smooth, mud free single-track that has to rank up there as one of the best sections of trail I have ever had the privilege of riding. I eventually finished in just over 9 hours and 23 minutes. I was pleased with my first off-road endurance event and was stoked to find out that I placed 1st overall in my class and 1st overall in my age group.
Highlights:
1. Absolutely the most scenic course ever!!!!!!!
2. Great day mechanically, no equipment malfunctions or flats
3. Riding through a chest deep river (approx 60 feet).
4. Finishing 1st overall in my class and age division and bringing home a sweet set of wind chimes that are shaped like bicycle sprockets (quite possible the coolest award ever).
5. The volunteers (Saints) and well stocked Fuel Stops.
Lowlights
1. 84 degree day
2. Being on my bike for 9 hours 23 minutes.
3. Having to stop for 28 minutes to splint a competitor's leg with a log and spare inner tubes (Race Officials wanted to adjust my time, but I didn't care, the poor guy had a broken ankle, and leg, I needed a rest at that point also).
4. The 100's of mud pits being un-ride-able and many waist deep
5. My legs starting to cramp at mile 43. Way too early.
6. Ingesting over 300 ounces of water, 200 ounces of electrolyte replacement, 20 Fig Newtons, 40 Enduralyte capsules, 20 gels, and assorted other m&m's, cookies, all the while still losing 7 pounds of weight after the race.
7. Having to bargain with myself after mile 50 to take in nutrition...........Sample script “If I just have one more gel, I won't have to have another Fig Newton for 3 more miles”...the horror.
What did I take away from this experience?
1. Training in the Groton State Forest will not prepare you for the 8000+ feet of climbing in this race, no matter how much you train
2. As long as you ride for 9 ½ hours, you can eat and drink like a Viking and still lose almost 8 pounds.
3. That leaving for vacation immediately after the race and having to chase my little guys around StoryLand and through the Polar Caves in not the ideal way to recover.
4. Do not try to hop over logs or navigate a rock garden with completely zapped of power. Late in race, riding over a 8 inch log was a MAJOR challenge.
Fuel Intake:
300 ounces of water
180 ounces of Hammer Nutrition Heed Electrolyte Replacement
72 ounces of Hammer Nutrition Perpetuem Carbohydrate Mix
20 Hammer Gel Packs (Plain/Vanilla/Rasberry/Chocolate)
38 Hammer Nutrition Endurolyte Capsules
2 Hammer Nutrition Bars
10 Fig Newton 4-packs
4 Uncrustables PB&J sandwiches
10 Special Recipe Endurance Treats
countless other snacks such as M&M’s, cookies, and potato chips
What did I take away from this?
1. Try to enjoy the moment, even the painful ones. I realized the painful moments are crucial for our personal breakthroughs and accomplishments, without them, the accomplishments don’t seem that important. Weird concept. In the days following the race as my all over body pain started to decrease, I started to realize how much I enjoyed this race. During the race, especially after mile 51, my body, mind, and that little voice that pops up from time to time asking us. “Why are you doing this?” wanted out. Looking back, I wish I could have enjoyed each moment…….ah, maybe I was better off to want out and grind on in spite of pain.
2. Another checkmark on the long list of Life Accomplishments
3. Realizing how much I LOVE running
4. Realizing I need to research the process of nominating someone for Sainthood. There was a homeowner at one of the road crossings offering to wash down riders and their bikes with a simple, but effective garden hose, soon after having to push our bikes through an approximately 40 foot long 3 foot deep mud pit and climb 400 feet in 1 mile. This MVV (Most Valuable Volunteer) was also offering to fill any empty water bottles.
The Payoff:
The sense of satisfaction? Nah.
The sense of accomplishment? Nah
Coming in 1st Place and bringing home the coolest set of wind chimes ever created? Nah
Finishing my first off-road endurance event and wanting to sign up ASAP for the next one? Nah
The Ultimate Payoff has been hanging my ‘award’ in front of my house and whenever my neighbors hear the sweet, relaxing, harmonious sounds of my wind chimes they know that “I’m The Man”. A few neighbors have yelled over and asked that I turn off the fan pointed at the wind chimes
Respectfully Submitted,
Anthony Mavilia- Jamis Bikes, Hammer Nutrition
Monday, September 8, 2008
How do you do it?
You’re in great shape, how do you do it?
I am confronted with answering this question occasionally at social events, and I’m never sure what the correct response should be. Don’t get me wrong, being a recent card carrying member to the Masters Division, I consider this question a compliment. The left and right side of my brain have a virtual arm wrestling match as to how to frame my answer. Here is what usually goes through my mind before I start spouting off. Does the person asking want my workout schedule? Is this Cougar hitting on me? ( I know, I’m an idiot) Do they want diet tips? Are they truly interested in what I have to say? How much do I say? Is the person just being nice or are they looking for a little bit of motivation to grab onto and run with?
I’m never sure, but after this internal George Costanza scenario comes to an end, I usually just say, “I’m pretty active and I sort of watch what I eat”. The standard response is usually, “Oh, ok”. Occasionally, I receive THE follow-up question of all follow-up questions. This is the question every active person wants to hear because it gives us a free pass to open the floodgates, “What does your workout schedule look like?” This is usually the time my wife leaves my side because she knows she just lost me for a least an hour, possibly two hours if the person also wants to know about my diet. Some people rate a dinner party’s success on the atmosphere, the food, the wine, the company, or the conversation……..not my wife, to her a dinner party is a success if she doesn’t loose me for a few hours while I ‘talk shop’ in an isolated corner with another runner, swimmer, or cyclist.
I think every one of us is in shape. Loosely, my definition of ‘In Shape’ is having your body ready for the activities you generally participate in. Depending on the time of year, my 10K time can vary by as much as 12 minutes, but be it winter, spring, summer, or fall, I'm always in shape enough to run a 10K. If you subscribe to the theroy that every person is able to do something, then you should accept my definition that if somebody is able to do something more than once, they would be considered ‘In Shape”. I feel the 55 year old gentleman who lives down the street from me who weighs close to three bills is ‘In Shape’. I watch him fire up his John Deere tractor weekly, he never forgets to fill both cup holders with Busch Light, and he eats up the better part of the afternoon cutting his ½ acre lot. He trains for lawn mowing, he participates in lawn mowing, I guess the recovery depends on how much he consumes while mowing, and he certainly repeats his lawn mowing weekly.
Fitness level, now that is a different story. What runner can admit to not assessing his or her fitness level daily at some point in their running career? Runners seem to constantly be asking themselves things such as, “Where is my fitness level"and "Am I ready for this race?” If I’m able avoid a major injury, over the course of a year, my weight fluctuates no more than a pound or two in either direction, but my fitness level differs greatly depending on the season. Does my fitness level ever measure up to Lance Armstrong’s fitness level? Hell no. But as compared to Busch Light Mower Man, I am Lance Armstrong.
I have also formulated a definition for ‘Fitness Level’ as well. To me, fitness level relates to having the capacity, and ability, to meet or exceed your expectations on race day. Of course, that is if you have committed yourself to train adequately and appropriately for the event. Again, we have established that Mr. Busch Light Mover Man is ‘In-Shape’ to mow his lawn, but it can be argued that his ‘Fitness Level’ is lacking because his body, after all the cheap beer intake, is unable to demonstrate the ability to cut his lawn in straight lines. What this gentleman needs is some Straight Line Mower Repeats on the inside grass portion of a 400m oval.
As the years and miles add up, I’m not as concerned about my fitness level as much as I once was. I feel that if you are committed and put in the time, effort, and training, the results will be there. When I look back in old marathon training logs and I see little notes questioning my fitness level on a certain date because I ran the same 8 mile loop one minute faster two weeks prior, it is difficult not to laugh. Have I matured that much in a short period of time, or have I just come to a time and place in my life where things like that don’t matter much any more? Ultimately, is my fitness level higher than the average Joe Forty Year Old who’s only exercise is pushing and pulling the reclining lever on his La-Z-Boy? Hell Yeah. Will I ever know what it feels like to run a five minute mile? Hell No. Do I care? Hell No. Am I having fun? Hell Yeah.
If given the chance, will I sneak away from my wife for hours and talk with you in the corner at a social event about running, biking, cycling, racing, and nutrition? Only if you have a can of Busch Light for me too.
I am confronted with answering this question occasionally at social events, and I’m never sure what the correct response should be. Don’t get me wrong, being a recent card carrying member to the Masters Division, I consider this question a compliment. The left and right side of my brain have a virtual arm wrestling match as to how to frame my answer. Here is what usually goes through my mind before I start spouting off. Does the person asking want my workout schedule? Is this Cougar hitting on me? ( I know, I’m an idiot) Do they want diet tips? Are they truly interested in what I have to say? How much do I say? Is the person just being nice or are they looking for a little bit of motivation to grab onto and run with?
I’m never sure, but after this internal George Costanza scenario comes to an end, I usually just say, “I’m pretty active and I sort of watch what I eat”. The standard response is usually, “Oh, ok”. Occasionally, I receive THE follow-up question of all follow-up questions. This is the question every active person wants to hear because it gives us a free pass to open the floodgates, “What does your workout schedule look like?” This is usually the time my wife leaves my side because she knows she just lost me for a least an hour, possibly two hours if the person also wants to know about my diet. Some people rate a dinner party’s success on the atmosphere, the food, the wine, the company, or the conversation……..not my wife, to her a dinner party is a success if she doesn’t loose me for a few hours while I ‘talk shop’ in an isolated corner with another runner, swimmer, or cyclist.
I think every one of us is in shape. Loosely, my definition of ‘In Shape’ is having your body ready for the activities you generally participate in. Depending on the time of year, my 10K time can vary by as much as 12 minutes, but be it winter, spring, summer, or fall, I'm always in shape enough to run a 10K. If you subscribe to the theroy that every person is able to do something, then you should accept my definition that if somebody is able to do something more than once, they would be considered ‘In Shape”. I feel the 55 year old gentleman who lives down the street from me who weighs close to three bills is ‘In Shape’. I watch him fire up his John Deere tractor weekly, he never forgets to fill both cup holders with Busch Light, and he eats up the better part of the afternoon cutting his ½ acre lot. He trains for lawn mowing, he participates in lawn mowing, I guess the recovery depends on how much he consumes while mowing, and he certainly repeats his lawn mowing weekly.
Fitness level, now that is a different story. What runner can admit to not assessing his or her fitness level daily at some point in their running career? Runners seem to constantly be asking themselves things such as, “Where is my fitness level"and "Am I ready for this race?” If I’m able avoid a major injury, over the course of a year, my weight fluctuates no more than a pound or two in either direction, but my fitness level differs greatly depending on the season. Does my fitness level ever measure up to Lance Armstrong’s fitness level? Hell no. But as compared to Busch Light Mower Man, I am Lance Armstrong.
I have also formulated a definition for ‘Fitness Level’ as well. To me, fitness level relates to having the capacity, and ability, to meet or exceed your expectations on race day. Of course, that is if you have committed yourself to train adequately and appropriately for the event. Again, we have established that Mr. Busch Light Mover Man is ‘In-Shape’ to mow his lawn, but it can be argued that his ‘Fitness Level’ is lacking because his body, after all the cheap beer intake, is unable to demonstrate the ability to cut his lawn in straight lines. What this gentleman needs is some Straight Line Mower Repeats on the inside grass portion of a 400m oval.
As the years and miles add up, I’m not as concerned about my fitness level as much as I once was. I feel that if you are committed and put in the time, effort, and training, the results will be there. When I look back in old marathon training logs and I see little notes questioning my fitness level on a certain date because I ran the same 8 mile loop one minute faster two weeks prior, it is difficult not to laugh. Have I matured that much in a short period of time, or have I just come to a time and place in my life where things like that don’t matter much any more? Ultimately, is my fitness level higher than the average Joe Forty Year Old who’s only exercise is pushing and pulling the reclining lever on his La-Z-Boy? Hell Yeah. Will I ever know what it feels like to run a five minute mile? Hell No. Do I care? Hell No. Am I having fun? Hell Yeah.
If given the chance, will I sneak away from my wife for hours and talk with you in the corner at a social event about running, biking, cycling, racing, and nutrition? Only if you have a can of Busch Light for me too.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Admit One- My Forest, My Life, My Experience
Hello out there!!!!!!!!!!
I was recently approached by a good friend, Chris Russell and asked if I had ever considered creating a blog. I responded that the thought had never crossed my mind, but I took the bait and asked, “Is is hard?”. His response was, “To set it up or come up with material that people may find informative and interesting?”. I quickly found out that for someone like myself, it was a little tricky because I have no idea what a hyperlink or HTML Text is. It will remain to be seen if I can continuously come up with interesting and informative entries.
Let me start off by saying most of my entries will be brief. My posts will hopefully focus on a single topic and will contain a few supporting statements. I do hope they provoke laughter, thought, and comments. I am sure the bulk of the entries will focus on training, racing, the recovery process and how it all relates to balancing my professional, family and 'recreational’ life.My profile provided a brief summary of who I am, but as time goes on and my entries add up, I am sure most of you will have a clearer picture of what makes me tick. As I listed in my profile, I am an active individual, I am truly grateful to have a wonderfully supportive wife who is tolerates my activities (or she just likes it when I am out of the house).
I live in the Northeast and I am so pumped that Fall is right around the corner. Now Fall may mean different things to different people around the world, but to us active folk from the Northeast who pronounce Harvard, “Hahvid”, it means prime mountain biking and running season. The trails we run and ride on in the Spring are nothing more than mud bogs littered with downed trees and broken branches. The Summer somehow takes care of these trails. The trails mysteriously dry up and logs and branches are somehow moved to the edge of the trails. The trails in the summer are super fast and dialed. Then enter the Fall. The Fall is a season in the Northeast when the forests attempt to take back what is rightfully theirs. In a scene straight out of a low budget Independent Film Channel movie, the forest attempts to scare its visitors with showers of gold, yellow, and red leaves. These leaves cover all that is sweet in the forest, the trails!!!!! My riding buddies ask why I never take the lead when we ride in the Fall, and I respond that I would rather have them find, and fall, on the slippery moss covered roots under the leaves. They don’t find it quite as funny as I do. A 15 mile mountain bike ride on familiar trails in the Summer can turn into a 20 mile ride on the same exact trails in the Fall. One must really scan the forest floor to stay on the trail when it is covered with leaves.
I like to think that I am very aware when I run and ride in the forest, but I would like to share an experience while riding solo on my favorite trail that some of you may find enlightening but I am sure will scare the &%$# out of my wife. Let me start by saying that I rarely leave my house with my Ipod when I run or ride, I would rather listen to the crackling sound of leaves being crushed by rubber than the latest Metallica song.
I left my house early in the morning last October for a quick 10 mile ride. This 10 mile loop is ‘My Loop”, it is one that I have helped cut, clear, and mark, one that I have provided trail maintenance on, and one that I have either run or ridden on hundreds of times. I know where every rock and root is located and where the muddy sections will be after a rainfall. On this day everything started out perfectly. I left my house at 8:00am and I was at the trail head at 8:05am. The sun was still very low in the sky and it provided great light for my ride. I was no more than one mile into my ride when I hit the speed section of the trail. There is a 150 yard flat, hard packed section of trail that begs for speed. I dropped it down a few gears and started to hammer along when that familiar sound caught my attention. It was the sound of crunching leaves under rubber. Impressed with my speed, I decided to look behind me to see if there was a high flying multicolored rooster tail of red, yellow, and gold leaves. I felt like a little kid with a baseball card 'clothes-pinned' to my frame making the coolest flapping sound when rubbed against the spokes. Well, I turned around to see what was happening behind me, and I guess I should have been paying attention to what was in front of me because while I was admiring my rooster tail of leaves, I was soon lying flat on my back after a few cartwheels. While looking back, I drifted off the trail and my crank hit a rock which immediately sent me airborne. After a quick trauma assessment, I figured out I wasn’t hurt and soon realized that I was lying in a comfortable bed of dried leaves. I made no attempt to get up; I just lied there and enjoyed looking up at the forest canopy. There were squirrels doing the branch to branch dance, and there were a few birds trying to figure out what that weird figure with the obnoxious spandex clothing was doing in the leaves looking up at them. I soon noticed that I was in the middle of a leave ‘snow storm’. There were leaves falling all around me. I started playing a game called, “I bet I can guess where this falling leave will setle”. Sir Issac Newton has nothing on this guy. After a few minutes of watching the leaves falling towards the forest floor, I was getting pretty good at predicting where a falling leave would eventually end up. I actually was soon able to figure out which leave would land either close to, or on me.
But all good things must come to an end. A very nice woman walking her dog approached me and found me lying on the ground staring up at the trees with my bike close by on the side of the trail. She ran up to me, informed me she was a nurse, and frantically asked if I was OK. I responded I was. She asked what happened. I informed her I crashed. She asked if I had been there long. I informed her I had been there for about 30 minutes. She asked what I was doing and I responded that I was mountain biking but now I am looking at leaves. She asked if I had blacked out and I responded no, but added that I almost fell asleep a few times. I tried to explain that I was in a beautiful location, I was comfortable, and I was enjoying the view. She explained that speaking as a nurse, it was her professional opinion that my mental status was ‘altered’. I responded with, “Yes, most of my friends would agree with you”. I informed her I was a firefighter and an EMT in the area and I was aware of the signs and symptoms of Altered Mental Status. I went on to tell her that I started out riding and was now perfectly content watching the falling leaves. I invited her to join me, but she respectfully declined. She wanted to call an ambulance, but I somehow talked her out of it while still lying on the ground. I finally convinced her that I was fine and she agreed to continue on her walk without calling 9-1-1, but said she was looping back in 10 minutes and if I was still on the ground she would call 9-1-1. I thanked her for her concern and she was on her way. Why is it that most grown ups seem to take such pleasure in ruining or spoiling some one's good time? Did Darwin ever comment on this phenomenon? After 9 ½ minutes ( I stayed there as long as I could before Nurse Ratched returned), I jumped back on my bike and finished my loop. The rest of the ride was uneventful.
Whenever I ride or run My Loop, I always stop at the spot where I crashed and look up. If it is Summer, I think to myself what it will look like in the Fall. If it Fall, the view never looks quite like it did on the day I hung out and studied that section of forest's canopy. I attempt to explain the location and the significance to others when we run or bike by the location, but most don’t get it.
The forest is a wonderful place, it is full of surprises and undiscovered experiences. I didn’t intend on being a ‘leaf peeper’ that morning, but that is what I became for a short time. As runners and outdoor enthusiasts, do we spend too much time looking down in front of us? Do we see the big picture and really enjoy where we are? I know I do. Sometimes it is fun to look up when you are running or riding and trust your reflexes to carry you safely over unsteady terrain, give it a try. Next time you are out in the forest, look up, you never know what is up there.
I was recently approached by a good friend, Chris Russell and asked if I had ever considered creating a blog. I responded that the thought had never crossed my mind, but I took the bait and asked, “Is is hard?”. His response was, “To set it up or come up with material that people may find informative and interesting?”. I quickly found out that for someone like myself, it was a little tricky because I have no idea what a hyperlink or HTML Text is. It will remain to be seen if I can continuously come up with interesting and informative entries.
Let me start off by saying most of my entries will be brief. My posts will hopefully focus on a single topic and will contain a few supporting statements. I do hope they provoke laughter, thought, and comments. I am sure the bulk of the entries will focus on training, racing, the recovery process and how it all relates to balancing my professional, family and 'recreational’ life.My profile provided a brief summary of who I am, but as time goes on and my entries add up, I am sure most of you will have a clearer picture of what makes me tick. As I listed in my profile, I am an active individual, I am truly grateful to have a wonderfully supportive wife who is tolerates my activities (or she just likes it when I am out of the house).
I live in the Northeast and I am so pumped that Fall is right around the corner. Now Fall may mean different things to different people around the world, but to us active folk from the Northeast who pronounce Harvard, “Hahvid”, it means prime mountain biking and running season. The trails we run and ride on in the Spring are nothing more than mud bogs littered with downed trees and broken branches. The Summer somehow takes care of these trails. The trails mysteriously dry up and logs and branches are somehow moved to the edge of the trails. The trails in the summer are super fast and dialed. Then enter the Fall. The Fall is a season in the Northeast when the forests attempt to take back what is rightfully theirs. In a scene straight out of a low budget Independent Film Channel movie, the forest attempts to scare its visitors with showers of gold, yellow, and red leaves. These leaves cover all that is sweet in the forest, the trails!!!!! My riding buddies ask why I never take the lead when we ride in the Fall, and I respond that I would rather have them find, and fall, on the slippery moss covered roots under the leaves. They don’t find it quite as funny as I do. A 15 mile mountain bike ride on familiar trails in the Summer can turn into a 20 mile ride on the same exact trails in the Fall. One must really scan the forest floor to stay on the trail when it is covered with leaves.
I like to think that I am very aware when I run and ride in the forest, but I would like to share an experience while riding solo on my favorite trail that some of you may find enlightening but I am sure will scare the &%$# out of my wife. Let me start by saying that I rarely leave my house with my Ipod when I run or ride, I would rather listen to the crackling sound of leaves being crushed by rubber than the latest Metallica song.
I left my house early in the morning last October for a quick 10 mile ride. This 10 mile loop is ‘My Loop”, it is one that I have helped cut, clear, and mark, one that I have provided trail maintenance on, and one that I have either run or ridden on hundreds of times. I know where every rock and root is located and where the muddy sections will be after a rainfall. On this day everything started out perfectly. I left my house at 8:00am and I was at the trail head at 8:05am. The sun was still very low in the sky and it provided great light for my ride. I was no more than one mile into my ride when I hit the speed section of the trail. There is a 150 yard flat, hard packed section of trail that begs for speed. I dropped it down a few gears and started to hammer along when that familiar sound caught my attention. It was the sound of crunching leaves under rubber. Impressed with my speed, I decided to look behind me to see if there was a high flying multicolored rooster tail of red, yellow, and gold leaves. I felt like a little kid with a baseball card 'clothes-pinned' to my frame making the coolest flapping sound when rubbed against the spokes. Well, I turned around to see what was happening behind me, and I guess I should have been paying attention to what was in front of me because while I was admiring my rooster tail of leaves, I was soon lying flat on my back after a few cartwheels. While looking back, I drifted off the trail and my crank hit a rock which immediately sent me airborne. After a quick trauma assessment, I figured out I wasn’t hurt and soon realized that I was lying in a comfortable bed of dried leaves. I made no attempt to get up; I just lied there and enjoyed looking up at the forest canopy. There were squirrels doing the branch to branch dance, and there were a few birds trying to figure out what that weird figure with the obnoxious spandex clothing was doing in the leaves looking up at them. I soon noticed that I was in the middle of a leave ‘snow storm’. There were leaves falling all around me. I started playing a game called, “I bet I can guess where this falling leave will setle”. Sir Issac Newton has nothing on this guy. After a few minutes of watching the leaves falling towards the forest floor, I was getting pretty good at predicting where a falling leave would eventually end up. I actually was soon able to figure out which leave would land either close to, or on me.
But all good things must come to an end. A very nice woman walking her dog approached me and found me lying on the ground staring up at the trees with my bike close by on the side of the trail. She ran up to me, informed me she was a nurse, and frantically asked if I was OK. I responded I was. She asked what happened. I informed her I crashed. She asked if I had been there long. I informed her I had been there for about 30 minutes. She asked what I was doing and I responded that I was mountain biking but now I am looking at leaves. She asked if I had blacked out and I responded no, but added that I almost fell asleep a few times. I tried to explain that I was in a beautiful location, I was comfortable, and I was enjoying the view. She explained that speaking as a nurse, it was her professional opinion that my mental status was ‘altered’. I responded with, “Yes, most of my friends would agree with you”. I informed her I was a firefighter and an EMT in the area and I was aware of the signs and symptoms of Altered Mental Status. I went on to tell her that I started out riding and was now perfectly content watching the falling leaves. I invited her to join me, but she respectfully declined. She wanted to call an ambulance, but I somehow talked her out of it while still lying on the ground. I finally convinced her that I was fine and she agreed to continue on her walk without calling 9-1-1, but said she was looping back in 10 minutes and if I was still on the ground she would call 9-1-1. I thanked her for her concern and she was on her way. Why is it that most grown ups seem to take such pleasure in ruining or spoiling some one's good time? Did Darwin ever comment on this phenomenon? After 9 ½ minutes ( I stayed there as long as I could before Nurse Ratched returned), I jumped back on my bike and finished my loop. The rest of the ride was uneventful.
Whenever I ride or run My Loop, I always stop at the spot where I crashed and look up. If it is Summer, I think to myself what it will look like in the Fall. If it Fall, the view never looks quite like it did on the day I hung out and studied that section of forest's canopy. I attempt to explain the location and the significance to others when we run or bike by the location, but most don’t get it.
The forest is a wonderful place, it is full of surprises and undiscovered experiences. I didn’t intend on being a ‘leaf peeper’ that morning, but that is what I became for a short time. As runners and outdoor enthusiasts, do we spend too much time looking down in front of us? Do we see the big picture and really enjoy where we are? I know I do. Sometimes it is fun to look up when you are running or riding and trust your reflexes to carry you safely over unsteady terrain, give it a try. Next time you are out in the forest, look up, you never know what is up there.
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