Orny's Cycling Journal

Saturday was my third year doing the Mt. Washington Century as a warm-up for the Pan-Mass Challenge.

Although it was my fifth century of the year, I also viewed it as a big test: my first 100-mile ride since my most recent crash, where my arm was badly injured in the emergency room. My hematoma had been healing, but was still pretty colorful (as you can see in the photos), and the arm was still a little weak.

My buddy Paul and I left the start at 7am in cool but clear weather. There weren’t a lot of other riders as we made our way along the rocky Swift River up to Bear Notch, a 1300-foot climb over the first of three named mountain passes. The climb went well and the four-mile descent was just fabulous.

After the first rest stop, we tackled Crawford Notch, a beautiful ride flanked by rocky escarpments, climbing another 1100 feet and ending in a lengthy, steep pitch up. Paul and I stopped and took a couple photos in front of the lake at the top of the ridge.

During the next rolling segment, my arm started aching and my shoulder/neck went into painful spasms, but I nursed it in to the rest stop at the top of Randolph Hill. In previous years, the temperatures had been boiling by this point, but the day had stayed mild and pleasant for a change.

After a screaming descent down into the town of Gorham, we turned onto the long, steady grade up to the base of Mt. Washington. My buddies always find it to be a brutal segment, but I don’t; it’s short, really straightforward, and the climb is a moderate 800 feet.

After another rest stop, we climbed the final 400 feet to the high point of Pinkham Notch, followed by another screaming descent that eventually degraded into a road that—lacking any shoulder—is uncomfortably narrow.

The final rest stop featured facecloths in ice water and Lindt truffles on ice. Then we enjoyed a flat roll down West Side Road back into Conway… but not before a final kilometer of sandy gravel where the road had been completely torn up for construction. Then a short but absolutely brutal climb back up to the starting point.

The cooler weather and partial cloud cover made a huge difference in our perception of the difficulty of the course and the time we were on it. We finished in reasonable time, with only minimal aches and stiffness. I was especially glad that my neck and arm were fine after that brief period of difficulty halfway through.

Although we saw fewer riders this year, we seemed to chat with them a lot more, including one guy who had picked Mt. Washington for his first (ever) century ride, and Joe from Newburyport, whom we’d ridden with during the ECV Tour d’Essex County back over Memorial Day.

Another result of the cooler weather was that we didn’t feel compelled to go jump in the frigid waters of the Swift River after the ride, so we hung out at the lodge a while before finally piling in and pointing the car back toward Boston.

That will be my last really long ride (and this my last training update) before the PMC. I’m pleased that my body has recovered as much as it has, since the PMC—this year being three days and 290 miles, rather than two days and 190 miles—is barely more than a week away.

But it looks like I should be able to proceed with the bonus-length PMC as planned, with the only variable left to fall into place being the weather. It would be nice if we could squeak in one more really fine weekend this summer…

The GPS data is below, but if you want to see something really cool, check out the Strava Activity Playback, where you can view the ride unfolding, including my position and that of other riders near me along the route (check the guy named “P” to see my buddy Paul too).

Last year’s Mt. Washington Century was the final ride for our four-man cycling cohort before Jay moved to Florida. This year, with Jay gone and Noah out of service, it was just my buddy Paul and I.

Things looked foreboding beforehand. A week before the ride, I smashed a toe, and Paul crashed when another rider went down in front of him. The forecast was ominous, too. The day before the ride, Boston hit 99 degrees on the sixth day of a heat wave which was predicted to break on Saturday (the day of the ride) with severe thunderstorms and wind. I posted a half-joking inquiry to Facebook about how much protection bicycle helmets offered against hailstones.

Friday evening we left Boston and made our way to New Hampshire, stopping for supper in Ossipee at the proverbial Yankee Smokehouse & Wild Hog Pizzeria, where I had a rack of baby back ribs and some (frozen, imported) corn on the cob. Leaving the restaurant, Paul and I watched frequent lightning flashes amongst the black clouds above the mountain peaks before us.

Arriving in North Conway, I checked us in while Paul started unloading our bikes. The check-in was smooth and easy, unlike last year when we struggled with a lost reservation. We rolled the bikes safely into our room, but by the time we’d turned around to go fetch our bags, a huge (but brief) downpour had come through. We’d been lucky to reach the hotel and get the bikes inside before the storm hit, but would our luck hold through Saturday’s ride? It didn’t seem likely.

After a quick convenience store run, we turned in, but not before I received an email from my angel sponsor letting me know that after resolving his employment issue, he was doubling his already prodigious donation to my PMC ride. That pretty much ensures that this year I will set a new fundraising record, which is completely unexpected, and guarantees that I’ll surpass my $100,000 lifetime fundraising goal next year. It was a heartening boost to my morale on a day that was (literally) overshadowed by darkening storm clouds!

Saturday morning we were up at 5am, on the road at 6am, and signed in and ready to ride at 7am, a half hour earlier than last year’s very late start. For the first time, the organizers were offering Mt. Washington Century cycling jerseys, and I was thinking of picking one up until I got to registration, where I learned that apparently I’d pre-ordered one back when I registered for the ride, and it was there waiting for me. Nice!

So we set out following a bunch of guys in Harpoon B2B jerseys up the Kancamagus Highway, following the rocky Swift River toward its source, accompanied by the musky smell of hot pine needles and the acrid tang of wood smoke campfires cooking breakfast. Despite the fact that it was only 70 degrees and we were riding at a very easy pace, the humidity was ridiculous and sweat was already pouring off my arms in rivulets, which would continue all day long.

As we reached the start of the climb up to Bear Notch, another daylong pattern revealed itself: Paul and I would ride together for a while, but then he’d go on ahead and I’d ride solo, catching up to him at each rest stop, which were spaced about 20 miles apart.

The Bear Notch climb was pretty manageable, and the descent is simply marvelous. I didn’t push the downhill and was surprised that the new bike didn’t descend as quickly as my old one. At the base of the pass I pulled into the first water stop exactly on my predicted time at 8:20am. One down, two to go!

The second segment was a long but very scenic climb up and over Crawford Notch. Although the morning had been partially sunny, dark clouds closed in, a bit of headwind kicked in, and it started sprinkling just as I reached the brutal last couple miles of the climb. But the shower had passed by 9:45am, when I pulled into the rest stop at Bretton Woods. I think Paul was a little dismayed when I told him that although we’d completed two of the three mountain passes, we’d only ridden 40 miles of the planned 108!

Although the third segment doesn’t have any mountain passes, it does have a couple good climbs, and by the halfway point of the ride my legs, neck, back, and seat had all filed preliminary complaints. The clouds were breaking up a little, and the temperature was climbing into the 80s: hot, but not as brutal as last year.

Along the way, I played leapfrog with a female rider who wasn’t sure of the route, so I gave her some basic directions. Although this was only my second time, I found myself giving a lot of advice to first-time riders all day, which made me feel like a bit of a veteran. I left this particular woman with the ominous message, “You won’t miss the next water stop; it’s at the top of a hill.”

When you first see it, Randolph Hill looks like a solid wall and will crush your morale, even if it really isn’t as bad as it looks. I pulled into the rest stop at the summit at 11:23, ahead of last year’s pace, and switched my bottle from sport drink to cola, which would hopefully provide a bit of a boost for the final mountain pass of the day.

Randolph Hill is followed by a screaming descent down into Gorham. I let Paul go ahead, because he usually descends faster than me, but I found myself gaining on him. Apparently he’d had an episode of “speed wobbles”, which I know from personal experience will scare the bejeezus out of you. For the rest of the day, he wasn’t the fearless descender he’d been earlier!

After passing through town, we made the turn that led up Pinkham Notch toward the base of Mt. Washington. The climb isn’t prohibitively steep, but it’s steady and relentless and sustains its ascent much longer than the other climbs. When you get there, the noontime sun is beating down, so I was thankful I’d loaded my bottle with more ice than cola back in Randolph. Still, the rest stop at the base of the Mt. Washington auto road came earlier than I expected. Pulling in at 12:35pm, I had been consistently maintaining a pace that was ten minutes ahead of my 2012 effort.

At the rest stop I replenished my drinks and helped the volunteers corral wayward supplies that were being blown around by a suddenly lashing breeze that gusted above 30 mph.

After leaving the stop, Paul and I climbed another couple miles before cresting Pinkham Notch and completing most (but definitely not all) of the climbing for the day. Along the way, I had to stop and fix the chest strap for my heart rate monitor; I’d sweated so much that it had come loose and slid down around my stomach!

As has been the case for most of my rides this year, I had planned to try to keep my heart rate at around 80 percent of my max as much as possible. That had served me really well on other rides, and I think it really helped here, as well.

Before the ride, I had also been worried about my ability to climb, since the new bike has a compact double chainring, rather than my old triple, which provided a much lower “granny gear”. However, I managed to survive with the gears I had. I didn’t spend all that much time in my lowest gear, and I wasn’t noticeably slower as a result, so I guess that had been an unnecessary concern.

After another ripping descent on the back side of Pinkham, I passed through the town of Glen (where I’d hit the wall last year) and onward into the final rest stop in Intervale.

I’d covered 97 miles in 6 hours 50, which was nice, given the amount of climbing we’d done and the brutal headwind. It had gotten quite hot, and the sweat would pour off you when you stopped riding. I was achey, but nowhere near as destroyed as I’d been in the heat of 2012. Still ahead on time, I was targeting finishing the ride within 8 hours.

Giving up on cola, I refilled with ice water and rode the entire last segment with Paul for company. Well, except for the final mile—the painful climb up Bald Hill Road back up to the start—which is just an utter and complete ballbuster. I hung my helmet on my handlebar stem and struggled up, finishing at 2:58pm, beating last year’s time by ten minutes.

We talked with other riders and rested at the conservation center that serves as the start, finish, and fundraising beneficiary of the ride. I downed two ice pops and two boxes of chocolate milk, and was inexpressibly delighted to find they’d put a big pile of facecloths on ice, which felt amazing at the end of eight hot and sweaty hours in the saddle.

Afterward, Paul and I drove down to swim in the rapids of the Swift River, where some kids were trying (and largely failing) to whitewater kayak. After cooling off, we drove back down to Wolfeboro and ate at the Wolftrap, as we’d done with Jay and Noah last year. I had a great penne, although next year I might con Paul into eating earlier at one of the restaurants in the Conway tourist book that was in our registration packet.

Then we drove the long road home, again watching the heat lightning flickering off the clouds in the distance for most of our route. After the ominous weather forecast, I was stunned that we’d gotten through the drive up on Friday, plus the entire ride and the drive back to Boston without us or our bikes getting wet.

In the end, it wound up being a really great trip and another wonderful ride, and I owe a big pile of thanks to Paul for being game to do the ride with me again this year. This ride is so much better than the CRW Climb to the Clouds that takes place the same weekend, and it really gives me a ton of confidence in my strength going into my upcoming PMC ride.

I’m pretty certain that I’ll be back for one more Mt. Washington Century in 2014, as preparation for my final (and one-third longer than usual) Pan-Mass Challenge.

And here are links to the GPS log and video!

Prelude

Epic rides deserve epic ride reports, so here’s the tale of the 2012 Mt. Washington Century…

The story begins with last July’s Climb to the Clouds ride. For at least the past three years, my Pan-Mass Challenge training culminated with that century ride up Mt. Wachusett a couple weeks before the PMC. But that ride isn’t well run, and last year my buddies and I reached the breaking point (ride report). As we sat around recovering from a brutal ride, all four of us concluded that we never wanted to do that ride again.

So this year I proposed a different ride that occupies the same spot in the New England cycling calendar: the Mt. Washington Century. It took very little convincing that a different ride would be more fun than yet another disappointing Climb to the Clouds.

The bonus is that this isn’t just another ride; it is an epic 108-mile ride over three named passes in the White Mountains. The route accumulates more than a mile of vertical by traversing the well-known Kancamagus Highway, Bear Notch, Crawford Notch, and Pinkham Notch. Billed as “New England’s most challenging century”, it circumnavigates most of the Presidential Range, including Mt. Adams and, of course, Mt. Washington, which is the highest peak in the northeastern US.

Preparation

In anticipation of the most difficult route I’d ever attempted, I spent a couple weeks doing hill repeats on the biggest hills in the area. On July 3rd I did four ascents of Great Blue Hill… and, of course, four high-speed descents, which I would also need to be ready to tackle. And on July 8th I did six trips up Eastern Ave to Arlington’s water tower… again with six screaming descents down the Route 2 on-ramp. While I wasn’t sure I was ready for 108 miles of mountains—especially after my self-destruction on my attempted Harvard century two weeks earlier (ride report)—I figured I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

I also wanted the Plastic Bullet to be ready, and it needed help. After a recent cleaning, my shifting had started skipping around. It had been more than a year since my last tune-up, so on Tuesday I brought it in and had them true the wheels and replace the chain and cassette. Seemed like a wise idea, right? Let the shop make sure everything was in good order for the big ride.

On Wednesday I biked to work, and the shifting was just as bad, if not worse. It was bad enough that after work I rode directly to the shop and asked them to fix it up properly. But as soon as the tech touched it, the shifter cable snapped at the shift lever: a problem that has happened to me two or three times in the past. When it happens, your shifter locks into the hardest gear and there’s nothing you can do about it. In short, had that happened during the Mt. Washington ride, I would have been absolutely screwed. I had really lucked out.

Getting There

The day before the ride, I left work at 4pm and met my buddy Noah drove me from my place out to Jay’s in Waltham. Rather than try to fight Friday rush hour traffic, we followed the first of several insightful suggestions I offered: get Thai from the restaurant around the corner. Everyone loved that idea… even me, who’d already eaten Thai for lunch for two days in a row. Hey, I figured it was good veggies and carbs! So that was my first good call.

Hanging at Jay’s, the sandbagging began. It was clear that each of us had some level of anxiety about the ride. Paul hadn’t ridden in a while. Noah hadn’t ridden much all year. Jay was surprised to learn that the ride’s site had lied about how much climbing was involved, proclaiming 4800 feet of vertical instead of a more realistic 6000'.

We also took a moment to acknowledge that this would be our last major ride together as a group, with Jay moving to Florida next month. We’ve had a great run together, and I think everyone’s sad to see it pass. On the other hand, doing the White Mountains would be a fitting and memorable way to go out!

The 3-hour ride up was pretty uneventful, and we arrived at the hotel Jay had booked at 10:30pm. That’s when the fun began: the woman at reception couldn’t find our reservation. Jay whipped out his laptop, but all he could come up with was some followup spam that Marriott had sent him. Apparently their central booking agent had added him to their spam list, but never bothered to make our reservation! Thankfully, by the time all was said and done, the local manager gave us a two-bedroom for a ridiculously low price; another crisis averted!

Departure & the Kanc

After grabbing some stuff from the hotel breakfast, we hit the road to the start: the Tin Mountain Conservation Center just outside Conway. We were already running later than Noah or I wanted, since it promised to be a very hot day. We signed in, got all our stuff together, and finally rolled out at 7:30am. The first mile featured a screaming descent which we all knew would be a kick in the teeth on the way back.

Within a mile, we turned left onto the Kancamagus Highway, arguably the most famous road in New Hampshire. It was a bright, beautiful morning. The road was smooth and steady. The mountains towered above us, the evergreens covering the hillsides offered fragrant shade, and the granite boulder-strewn bed of the Swift River ran along the road, keeping us company as we climbed toward its source.

My buddies stopped to stretch for a while, but I was eager to keep moving, so I went on ahead alone. The Kanc climbs gradually but steadily, but I kept a comfortable pace, knowing that I’d need lots of strength in reserve for the peaks that lay ahead. Still, I kept my buddies at bay until shortly after making the left turn onto Bear Notch Road. The Kanc had ascended about 800 feet in 12 miles.

Bear Notch

On the course’s elevation profile, Bear Notch looked like the easiest of the three ascents, with more gradual, easy climbing. And that’s pretty much how it turned out. It never seemed to get steep for any sustained period of time, and I climbed alongside my buddies, who had finally caught me. It was cool that three of us were together when we passed the event photographer, who captured us.

The climbing we’d done on the Kanc (800 feet over 12 miles) had put us more than halfway to the top, so the actual climbing on Bear Notch Road really only amounted to another 600 feet over 4 miles.

Then, without really expecting it, we were over the top and coasting at 35 mph down a winding, wooded road. Thankfully, the road surface was beautiful, and we zoomed down almost without touching our brakes, admiring the mountain and valley vistas that opened up on our left.

After a long descent (over 1000 feet in 5 miles)—but still too soon—we were dumped into a little village called Bartlett, where the first rest stop sat in a public common. We all had big grins on our faces as we recounted our experiences to one another. So far it had been a wonderful day, and the temps were still in the low 70s.

Crawford Notch

We rolled out and turned left onto Route 302, a somewhat busier road. Paul and Noah caught and passed me, but Jay hung with me as we fought an unexpected northwest headwind—the only time that happened all day.

Again, the ascent was long and gradual but very manageable (550 feet over 12 miles). As we got close to Mt. Jackson, we stopped for a photo opp at the Willey House pond, close to the source of one of my favorite rivers (the Saco).

We caught a slower paceline just as the road started kicking up at the summit. Jay and I debated passing them, but that soon sorted itself out, as some of them distanced us while others went backwards. The last two miles or so was a real struggle, gaining another 550 feet, but that made it all the sweeter when Jay and I crested Crawford Notch together, yelling weightlifter Ronnie Coleman quotes at each other (“Yeah buddy!”, “Whoooo!”, “Lightweight baby!”, and the ever-popular and slightly-modified “Everybody wanna be a cyclist; nobody wanna climb these big-ass hills… I’ll do it tho!”). It felt like a victory worthy of celebration, and thus it was nice to share that moment with Jay.

The problem with Crawford was that there wasn’t any real descent afterward. The road leveled out and angled down just a hair, but not enough to really make a big difference. The road was also barren, having emerged from the woods, and the temperatures were into the mid-80s.

Fortunately, the second water stop materialized in a convenience store parking lot. Surprisingly, the organizers had run out of sports drink, and we had to go buy our own from the convenience store. That was the organizers’ one obvious shortfall: we shouldn’t have to pay for Gatorade out of our pocket on a ride we’d paid to do!

Going Round the Mountain

Jay and I left Crawford and continued north on 302. I pulled him for a few miles as we turned east by cutting across Route 115 to Route 2. Here there was a mix of rolling climbs and a few long descents, but nothing like that off Bear Notch. Jay pulled away but Paul caught up and rode with me for a while before he too moved on.

Then, shortly before we reached Gorham, I rounded a corner to find myself facing an immense wall known as Randolph Hill. In the distance, the road looked like it took off like a jetliner, soaring into the sky (in reality it climbed 200 feet in less than a mile). By this point, temps had climbed to 90 degrees, and there was little if any shade along the route. I poured the last of my Gatorade over my head and plodded up the brutally steep climb.

Fortunately, the third water stop was at the top of the hill, where I collapsed in the heat. Thankfully, the organizers had cold drinks on ice in coolers, and I shoveled ice into my water bottle for the next segment. I also had a couple sips of Coke, which certainly went down nicely.

It was at this point that my stomach started doing flip-flops. At the rest stops, I felt bloated and queasy, full of too much liquid, which I’d been pouring down my throat; but on the bike, I felt pretty good for the most part. This would continue for the rest of the day.

Mount Washington and Pinkham Notch

Jay and Paul left the rest stop shortly after Noah showed up. Noah was pretty cooked, but I rested for a few more minutes and we left the stop together. The good news is that the road continued to descend (650 feet in 4 miles) after the rest stop, and Noah and I rode together through Gorham, where we finally turned south onto Route 16 for the climb up to the base of Mt. Washington.

Route 16 was a really long, steady climb, but a bit steeper than the easy slopes we’d taken to approach the other notches. It was grueling, but I found it manageable, so long as I kept pouring water on myself. On the other hand, Noah was still struggling and fell behind quickly, although he stayed within sight of me much of the way up.

Eventually I pulled into the gravel parking lot at the base of the infamous Mt. Washington Auto Road. Again, no shade was to be found, but with the temp peaking at 95 degrees, I loaded up on ice and headed out with Jay and Paul, who quickly gapped me as the climbing continued for another 4 miles to the top of Pinkham Notch. Overall, that climb had ascended 1200 feet over 11 miles.

Then came the final payoff: a 15-mile, 1500-foot descent down from Pinkham Notch, into the woods and down to Jackson. My legs were so beat that I didn’t push the descent, but just rolled with it. Just as I was thinking I could go wade in a mountain stream, Noah caught up with me and left me behind, so I plodded on.

I eventually reached the town of Glen, where 16 rejoins 302 and again becomes a major thoroughfare. As I looked left, I saw a moderately-sized hill that just wasn’t going to happen. So I pulled into a Dairy Queen parking lot and rested for a few minutes before finishing the final two miles to the last rest stop. That was the only unscheduled stop I made during the ride; I hadn’t gotten off on any of the hills, but I needed to gather my strength before attacking that one just before the rest stop.

The Final Countdown

The last rest stop was a grassy lawn—essentially someone’s yard. I laid on my back and just gasped due to the heat. It was only 13 miles to the finish, so I would certainly finish it, but I needed another good rest first. I downed half a can of Coke, filled up with ice, and poured ice water over my head before following my buddies, who had left five minutes earlier in hopes of finishing within eight hours.

Again, once I was back on the bike things settled into place, and I made okay time. I wasn’t strong, but made steady progress. With all the climbing behind me, it was just a question of closing it out, and surviving that final mile.

The final segment—West Side Road—was a long but nice ride, although it felt like I was still climbing a false flat. Finally I came back out onto Route 16, and half a mile later passed the point where we’d turned onto the Kancamagus. I marshaled my strength and made the turn onto Bald Hill Road that led up a punishing ascent up to the finish at Tin Mountain (officially it gains 300 feet in 1 mile). It was as steep and difficult as anything we’d done, but I finally drifted into their driveway and hung gasping over the bars for a minute before signing in and meeting up with the guys.

Final tally: 108 miles in 8:15, with 5800 feet of climbing and an average speed of 16 mph. For the mappy junkies, here’s a link to the GPS log.

The After-Party

I tried to eat a bit as we sat outside the Tin Mountain cabin, but really only managed to down a couple chocolate milks. It was still too hot to let our core body temperatures drop, and we all were feeling the effects. But this is where my second grand pre-planning idea paid off in a huge way.

I knew it was going to be hot. I knew we were going to be near lakes and streams. I knew we were going to be four stinky, grimy, sweaty guys stuck in a car for three hours. So one of my pre-ride emails suggested that everyone bring swim trunks, and they had. We briefly discussed where to go, then went back to the truck and exchanged our sweaty kit for trunks and drove to the nearest possible water: the Swift River we’d ridden by on the Kancamagus at the start of the ride.

We quickly found a swimming hole others were using, pulled off the road, and picked our way down to the torrent. As I said earlier, the whole area was just a pile of granite boulders: the smallest being the side of a dog; the largest being as big as a tractor trailer. The water was absolutely blissful: cold yes, but not blisteringly frigid. We dunked in the deeper parts, then sat in the middle of the rapids and let the cold water flow over us. Jay clambered around and found a way to swim underneath a huge monolith in the middle of the river. Everyone agreed it was the perfect way to relax and cool off.

At this point, I saved the day again. Jay jumped into the water and lost his sunglasses in the torrent, but I was able to spot them, so that was gratifying. Less gratifying was learning that Noah had stolen a towel from the hotel, when we had earnestly promised them we wouldn’t incur any incidentals. That was the one sour note of the trip.

The road home included a stop at a donut shop that featured (for me) more chocolate milk and a blissful rest in a big overstuffed armchair. Then we hit the Wolfetrap, a restaurant in Wolfeboro, Paul’s home town, so that was kinda cool, and my huge burger and cornbread were precisely what the chirurgeon prescribed. That was also where I saved the day yet again, pointing out to Paul that—despite his claiming otherwise—he really was about to leave his credit card behind with the check.

We got that straightened out and hoofed it back to Boston, where I was anxious to begin my next task: recovery! It was still Saturday night, and I had all day Sunday to shower, relax, fuel up, and rehydrate.

Das Ende

I really enjoyed the Mt. Washington Century. I think it lived up to its billing as a very challenging ride, but it was also just an awesome day all around. The scenery—the rivers, the mountains, the woods—was just breathtaking. The climbs were long and steady which made them very manageable but they still packed some challenging sections, and the descents were long and smooth. Sure, with a newer bike I could have pushed the top speed on the descents, but it was just as nice to let gravity do all the work.

The Plastic Bullet once again did its job admirably for an old bike with more than 20,000 miles on it. After the cable was swapped out, I literally didn’t once think about the shifting problems I’d had earlier that week.

This was my third complete century of the year, which puts me about on pace with my previous two years, and it certainly puts me in good shape for the PMC, which is only two weeks away (as of this posting). I’d love to do this ride again, but I’m not sure whether that will happen, with Jay moving away and the group likely to fragment.

Which brings me back to the idea that this was the last major organized ride for Jay, Paul, Noah, and I. From the ride to the post-ride swim in the Swift River, this was a perfect day and a fitting way to honor our friendship and our mutual encouragement. It was epic.

And I’m so glad I was able to convince them to go for Mt. Washington instead of the Climb to the Clouds. After last year’s CttC, we were too exhausted, overheated, and demoralized to even stay for a post-ride swim in nearby Walden Pond. The contrast between that and this year’s relaxing dip in a wild mountain stream just underscores what a truly awesome time we had on the Mt. Washington Century, making memories that we’ll take with us for years and years to come.

Chapeau, boys!

Time for an update on all the news since the PMC.

First was Jay’s annual Labor Day BBQ and ride up Mount Wachusett (GPS log). The ride was pretty fun; after the hill climb, we rode out to Comet Pond and back, but we didn’t stop because Jay was (as usual) stressed to get home before his party guests started arriving. The downside was that I started feeling horribly sick toward the end of the day, which was made all the worse because I was dependent on Jay for a ride home.

The following weekend was the Flattest Century, down in southeastern Mass. While okay, it’s never been my favorite ride, and this year it was made worse because I was sick again: this time *before* the ride. Despite a completely emptied stomach, I managed to finish the ride (GPS log), but it was a titanic struggle. Like CttC, I’m not sure whether I’ll be back for this one next year or not.

Then came Hub on Wheels, the city of Boston’s big organized ride. The weather was almost perfect for this 50-mile ride (GPS log). I only wish some of my friends would come out for this one, since it covers a lot of the parts of Boston that I love riding in, and most of my buddies never ride in town.

And a week after that was my final big ride of the year: a 115-mile jaunt with Paul and Noah that began in Wellesley, then ran southwest into Rhode Island, then crossed over into Connecticut before returning home again (GPS log). The upside was that I realized two longstanding desires: to do my first tri-state ride, and to visit the place known as Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg. The downside was that we had sporadic rain, and my GPS ran out of juice toward the end and stopped recording data. But overall it was a good way to get in the mileage I needed to close the year.

Details of that can wait, as I’ll do a whole separate post summarizing my 2010-2011 season.

One odd thing was how the last two rides ended. After Hub on Wheels, I came home, passed out on the bed for about an hour, then got up and went into the living room. I was doing something at my desk when I heard the characteristic sudden hiss of an inner tube bursting. When I investigated, I found a puncture near the valve stem. Thankfully, it hadn’t let go during the ride, but waited until just afterward, while the bike was just sitting idly in my apartment.

Then, after our tri-state ride I loaded my bike onto Noah’s car and we set out toward Boston. We hadn’t left the parking lot when we heard that same noise. Another tube burst, and again it was at the valve stem (although my rear tire, rather than the front). And again, it was just after I’d finished an important ride, when the bike wasn’t being used or even touched. Ironically, only five minutes earlier Paul had observed that we’d gotten through a 115-mile ride without anyone flatting…

So that’s how the last bit of summer trickled away. Stay tuned for my end of season summary coming up next!

I want to report on two recent rides of note.

A week ago Saturday, Jay and I drove up to Laconia, New Hampshire and did a 65-mile ride around Lake Winnipesaukee (GPS log). Although there were no large hills, the route was constantly rolling up and down. That, combined with a strong wind and bad legs, spelled a rough day for me. However, it was late season, so my cycling form really didn’t matter, except for frustrating Jay, who is in the best form of his seventeen-years-younger-than-me life.

The route we selected stayed mostly to large main roads, which meant a lot of speeding traffic, and not many views of the lake. However, when the road did dip down by the lake, the scenery was quite nice, even if the leaves had only just begun to turn at that time.

We stopped for lunch at the Yum Yum Shop (a bakery) in Wolfeboro, and called our riding buddy Paul to make him jealous; he grew up in that town.

We were fortunate, because although the forecast had originally predicted a temperature around 70, it actually climbed above 80, which was a rare late-season treat. Near the end of the ride, Jay was warm enough to request that we stop at Ellacoya State Park for a brief swim, despite the strong wind and chilly water.

All in all, it was a mixed expedition, but it had its rewards, and it’s always good to explore new rides. If I do it again, I think I’ll look for more lakeside deviations from the main roads, especially on the northern edge of the lake.

The very next day was another first-time ride: Boston’s annual Hub on Wheels cycling festival, which includes a 50-mile ride around town. I did this one alone (GPS log), which I figured would be good, since I could take it easy and ride slowly, without having to worry about slowing my buddies down. Really, I was mostly interested in getting a little closer to my mid-October mileage goal, as well as participating in a ride I’d hoped to do for several years.

It didn’t work out that way, though. In an effort to avoid getting stuck in the mass of 4,000 riders, I lined up at the front, then set a quick pace on the first leg down the length of a car-free Storrow Drive and back. Getting off at the Bowker overpass and circling the West Fens, I surprised myself by leading for one of the front groups of hammerheads.

As we tracked down through JP toward Dedham, we gradually shed weaker riders, particularly on Peters Hill in the Arboretum and Bellvue Hill, where I took great pleasure in cracking a poseur in his little Lance Armstrong Radio Shack team kit.

While we weren’t the absolute front of the ride, I was proud to be only person who stayed in contact with one guy who went off the front of our pack. Eventually we re-formed into another small group before getting briefly hung up in the crowd of people doing one of the shorter routes.

When we got to Pope John Paul Park at the mouth of the Neponset River, the route signs directed us into a never-ending circle within the park. Knowing my way around that area, I bailed immediately, but because I happened to be at the end of our paceline at the time, none of the other riders in my pack saw me, and I rode alone the rest of the way back to the finish.

I was extremely surprised at finishing the 50-mile route in less than 3 hours clock time, averaging about 18 mph despite the strong wind, the many stops and starts in the urban street network, some extremely rough “surfaces”, and (of course) having worn out legs from the previous day’s hilly 65-mile ride. It was a very strong performance, which was very rewarding after sucking so badly the day before.

Although the ride took place almost entirely within the confines of the city of Boston, the route was actually surprisingly scenic. While I was already familiar with about 80 percent of the route, there were a few new bits, which kept things a little interesting.

It was a fun ride, and one I’d recommend. But if you’re a regular rider, make every effort to get there early, so that you can line up at the head of the pack, which is probably 60 percent recreational riders. Oh, and I don’t suggest pre-registering, since the Hub on Wheels ride has historically had pretty foul weather. 2010 had the best conditions in years, and it was only partly sunny and struggled to break 70 degrees.

Follow this link for my full 2010 Pan-Mass Challenge ride report, including writeup, photos, and GPS logs.

Lotta news in the cycling world.

First, it’s Boston’s Bike Week, which meant a brief ride from city hall to a press conference somewhere where the mayor gave a speech. This year, the ride ended on the Commonwealth Avenue mall, two blocks from my house, so that mayor Menino could unveil the new bike lanes on Comm Ave (more on those later). In addition to enduring the obligatory advertising and self-congratulations, I obtained a cowbell that I might use on the PMC, and the email address of a guy at Bikes Belong who might be able to get me their team kit, which I find quite attractive.

Those new bike lanes on Comm Ave showed up a few days ago, and I haven’t made up my mind whether I like them or not. Rather than being at the right of the roadway, where people have always traditionally biked, they are at the extreme left. For me, that’s a very uncomfortable place to be, and it presents traffic flow problems both when I turn from Mass Ave onto Comm, and where I turn right to leave Comm by my house. The biggest benefit of the lanes is that they give cyclists a dedicated lane in the underpass going beneath Mass Ave. I’ll be interested to see if the general public adopts these unexpected left-hand lanes or not.

But the biggest news for me is last Sunday’s CRW Spring Century ride. In addition to being my first 100-mile ride of the year, it was the first time I’d done this particular ride, which runs around northeastern Mass and southeastern New Hampshire. The weather was fabulous, and the route, which goes through Harold Parker State Forest and along and over the Merrimack River, was surprisingly very scenic.

Not that there weren’t any glitches. The route directed us with typical “CRW precision” over a three-mile stretch of stripped road. This was followed by a mile of closed road along the Merrimack that was partially washed out. And none of the rest stops had any bananas, which are a staple of endurance athletes.

I shared the ride with buddies Jay, Paul, Lynda, and Suzanne, which made for a great day, which we ended with sammidges at Kelly’s Roast Beef. You can find the GPS report here.

I also used the opportunity to practice collecting and assembling video footage, which will come in handy for other major rides this season. Here’s my first attempt at a video ride report: (click through if the player reports an error)

This’ll be just a quickie, since I’m in the throes of final PMC preparations.

Yesterday I led a 50-mile ride for Jay, Paul, and Mark that took us from Mark’s home in Beverly up 127 to Gloucester, around Cape Ann, and back.

The weather threatened rain, but wound up being partly sunny and oppressively humid. This was more of a scenic ride than a hammerfest, and I think it all went very well. The most difficult part of the ride was not jumping into the water as we crossed the wooden footbridge in Annisquam! GPS track log is here and photos are here.

Despite having only ridden a couple times all year, Mark kept up admirably, and seemed to hit it off well with Paul and Jay. Jay’s trying to get a group of us to do the Flattest Century in September, which is highly probable.

That was my last major ride before the PMC, so now I’m all about sleep, eating, and frenetic packing. So I’m posting this so that I can check it off my to-do list, add the relevant pointer to OrnothLand, then moving on to the rest of the list. Ciao!