With the Vermont 100 Endurance Race done, I'm training for my first brevet. A brevet is just like an ultramarathon, only on a bicycle. Also, everything is pronounced with a French accent. Bruh-vay. Once I complete a brevet, I will be a Randonneur. Rahn-dough-nur.
I've set my sights on the Flatbread 200K based largely on its lack of mountain climbs. A 200K brevet has a time limit of 13 1/2 hours. I hope to finish a bit faster than that. Just like ultrarunning, it's a lot more fun to train with friends. So I twisted Rootchopper's arm to get him to accompany me again.
This
time we signed up for an organized ride, where it works out just fine
to blindly follow color-coded arrows on the road. The Indian Head
Century was held on another spectacular late summer day with low
humidity and mild temperatures. Oh Summer, never leave.
We spotted @MrTinDC (Ted) of Friday Coffee Club who was nursing an inflamed elbow but determined to completed the full century nonetheless. Rootchopper and I were taking it slightly easier, he with his big weekly commute mileage and the 50 States Ride coming up and me with a house that desperately needed tidying before my Mother-in-Law arrived for dinner.
Off we rode into the cool morning, starting off with a nice downhill grade. We chatted as we rolled through Charles County, a place time seems to have forgotten, at least since the 1970s.
There were no McMansions here (yet), just small, older houses and an occasional trailer home, all with several late-model American automobiles parked outside. There were even some old houses covered in that awful multicolored Insulbrick stuff.
Cheery yellow wildflowers lined the road. The insects weren't as vocal as last week, just a few crickets half-heartedly chirping from the grass. Fall is coming.
Rootchopper was feeling pretty good on the hills, but my legs were
feeling my mountain run from the day before. I still can't quite keep up
with him but he always soft-pedals and lets me catch up again. The rest stops were well-stocked. The first one had fresh-off-the-grill eggs, ham, cheese on an English muffin! I was able to get a standalone egg but they sure looked good with all the fixins.
We briefly discussed opting for the 60 mile ride, but a rare sense of responsibility kicked in and we dutifully executed the 46-mile turn. We regretted it the rest of the way. The big highlight of the day was the loud call and clear sight of a Pileated Woodpecker as we rode right past. What a magnificent bird! I also rescued a turtle who was right in the path of cyclists on the bike path. His shell was shut tight so he might have gotten thumped before my arrival. Nothing looked broken so I set him down in the grass and we were on our merry way.
We also passed a nice marsh in the final miles. It's definitely the kind of place you could easily spend an hour or more taking in the scene.
Much too soon, we arrived at the finish, with 45 miles in the bag. We enjoyed a little post-ride food and then we headed back to reality.
All in all it was a really good day on the bicycle. I'll be back next year to ride more miles in Charles County.
Slip slidin' away Slip slidin' away You know the nearer your destination The more you're slip slidin' away ~ Paul Simon
This song was a fitting theme for the day
Why do I keep coming back to Hashawha Hills 50K?
It's a loop
course, which is mentally tougher than a point to point course. It also means running the same route twice. There's several out and back sections that exist solely to provide the requisite mileage.
It's at a terrible time of the
year, the last weekend in February. Everything is brown and dead.
The weather can be ugly (last year, race day featured crazy winds).
Depending on the temperature, the course features icy cambered hills or shoe-sucking mud and slop. This year, we got both!
Better than the forecasted freezing rain, we had misting rain for the first 15 miles.
All photos by Anstr Davidson
I almost bailed several times before race day. I had some good reasons:
The forecast of freezing rain
A birthday happy hour/dinner for two close friends the night before
The 4 a.m. wakeup to drive 90 miles to the start
Somehow, I propelled myself out the door to meet up with Team Gaylord, a boisterous bunch whom I dearly love. This gang makes any kind of hell seem like the most fun there is. Thankfully the roads were not hazardous. The parking lot itself was literally a sheet of ice. I donned my YakTrax for the walk to the building where we gathered for the race briefing.
Yours Truly and Beni running a brief paved road section of the course
And then the fun began. The course was frozen mud with lots of slick sections. Poor Beni went down in a cringe-inducing crash that would end her day after one loop.
We continued along at a cautious pace, warning each other about icy spots. Bob shouted what he considers encouragement at everyone we encountered on the out-and-backs. The rest of us pretended not to know him.
It thawed a bit for the second half of the race . . .
There's a little of every kind of terrain here: Hills, none too steep or long but they just keep coming. Frozen, lumpy fields that threaten to turn your ankle. A few creek crossings, one wide and so cold it burned. Gravel road. A bit of paved road. Some sweet single-track trail in the woods. Pine needle-carpeted nirvana.
We completed loop one and recharged our supplies. As we trotted on our way, the winner arrived, obliterating the course recordby 38 minutes. HOLY SH*T!
We hustled out of there. The mist had stopped, and the day was growing warmer. The frozen mud became squishy, shoe-sucking mud. The sweet, legendary Tom Green joined our merry band for a while. What did we talk about? What didn't we talk about? We talked about who was running what races next. We pontificated on the 24-hour run format. We complained enthusiastically about the ridiculous conditions, laughing and taunting each other. We somehow discussed fake dog testicles. Yes, they exist.
5 miles to go. There are no trail photos as Anstr was too smart to go out in that slop.
Why do I keep coming back to Hashawha Hills 50K?
This race for me is about friends, and our conversations.
It's about getting outside on a day when you'd normally cancel any planned outside activity and huddle in your warm, dry home with a hot mug of comfort.
It's about how lucky you feel when you realize it's a damned good day to run.
We briefly discussed opting for the 60 mile ride, but a rare sense of responsibility kicked in and we dutifully executed the 46-mile turn. We regretted it the rest of the way.
