2017 Paris to Ancaster 70K

P2A is like childbirth......you forget the pain. 

Then, you think you should do it all over again; as it truly was a beautiful thing.  However, I really
didn't recall all those hills from the year previous.  Albeit, last year was my first attempt at this race, so, I may have been in a slightly altered state.   Nonetheless, in my mind, it was now doable on a single speed-like deciding to go with natural childbirth, the second time around.  Okay, for you gentlemen, I'll cease using this metaphor.  

I first woke in the morning around 6 am to thunder and lightning, not by choice, but, by shear volume.  I had been dreading the weather report for the past few days and it proved not to disappoint, which is rather an oddity by all accounts.   I fell back asleep to the lull of the rain and awoke a short time afterward by the pleasantry of my alarm. I sprung to the window, to check on the weather status and still, it continued to rain.  Yet, it was set in my mind; I was doing this race.  Sure, I had done many running events in these conditions and it always seemed refreshing, but, today, I was thinking it would be otherwise, especially in combination with the cold and wind.

Wave 4 was a bit of a blessing.  By the time I was ready to wheel the line, the rain had ceased and it only seemed cold when I was moving.  The gun went off and I was ready to go.  And move I did.  To be honest, I had only had one other ride on my single speed as it was newly acquired. The test ride was along the rail trail, so it was flat.  As I started to pedal, I looked at the slight incline and wondered how it might go.  I know, its like running a marathon in a new pair of shoes that you just hauled out of the box.  Not!  Well, that seemed easy enough and I was vehemently committed to seeing this through.  The initial climb, as small as it was, was a saving grace as I never allowed myself to visualize defeat.  Dreaming was achieving.  I knew I was going to finish this thing and that was the only plan.  Okay, just 69 km to go.

I spoke to some fellow riders and there were quite a few new riders.  I was quick to point out, that once we got off the rail trail, there was a quick right and it was a steep uphill. The lack of momentum in the turn, makes it difficult to ascend the hill, so, I had already made the plan to walk this one and if need be, the final Martin Road climb.  I began to relish the hills.  Yeah, those ones that I had totally deleted from the memory banks.  I even began to think they had changed the course from last year.

There was definitely more mud to contend with this year and the wind started to become atrocious as the trail opened up to roads.  The section of bush behind the first private property we cross, was a mud pit and I knew that I had to keep the momentum going.  I met up with a cyclist from the Pickering area that did this race with his son each year.  Today, he was told by his son to embrace the wind and that he did.  Until his front wheel hit a rock in the mud and over the handlebars he went.  Foremost, he was okay and once that was clear, I inquired about his bike and all appeared good, except for his pride he confessed.  Once we hit the road, I offered to pull and we continued to share each others company for a good portion of the route.  Good thing, as I happily let him pull on the rail trail as pushing into the wind had reduced us to a pace of around 12 km per hour.  At one point, I was almost blown off the trail by the wind.  There was an embankment at that point and it may have been interesting had I not recovered.

Just past the half way point, I was getting ready to pull out of the water stop and heard the announcement that the sweepers were only 15 minutes away.  How is that possible?  I checked my Garmin and although I had started off with an average pace of 23-25, I was now in the position of being just above 16.  I must admit, the wind was tough, but, this is not where I had visualized myself at this point.  I departed the station with an appetite for vengeance in making up for lost time.  All seemed to be going to plan, until we got back into the headwind.  It was a hard push at every point now, yet, I forged on.  I still felt good and I seemed to have lots of juice in the tank.  Soon thereafter, I hit the section of trail that had been sabotaged last year.  Mature trees had been cut to block the trail and created a backlog.  The community and race organizers had ensured that the course was clear from any obstructions. With the proceeds going to St. Joseph's Hospital, I'm still perplexed as to why someone would have done this.

I hit the last rest area and decided to keep going as there was only about 20km to go.  There were still 2 sections of mud chutes to get through and I was ready for them.  No grocery bags to cover my shoes this year as I was going to attempt to push through them.  Oh, the beauty of a single speed. There will be no expensive repairs to my derailleur.  Mud is such a bike killer.  I came across the first chute and it was okay.  They even had someone there hosing down your bikes to prevent from such disasters.  Such a nice touch.  The last chute didn't go as well.  I had picked my line and all was good until two other cyclists had moved right and occupied the same line I had set out upon.  I had to slow and then stop to prevent a collision.  I didn't get clipped out in time and down I went.  At least I was now looking the part.  What would Cornel say?  He is always telling me, it needs to be instinctual.  I was like a wild animal being fed at the zoo.  The instincts were not defined.  As I went down, the pedal hit my calf and I winced in pain.  I got up and was worried from what I was experiencing in that muscle.  I was so close now.  Surely, this would not be it.  I had to saddle up and keep moving and once I did, the calf started to feel much better.

I maneuvered my way over to the final ascent at Martin's Road and I have to say, I was happy with my performance through this section.  Now the climb, that was a different story.  Just like last year, I hit the beginning of the apex and had to get off and push my bike until it leveled out.  There I was able to get back in the saddle and finish the ride to the finish line.  I was beaming.  I had done it.

Once we had checked in our bikes at the wash station, we changed and made our way into the gymnasium for some lunch.  That is when I noticed, I had placed 2nd in the single speed category for women.  I'm told that I should neglect to mention that there was only the two of us, but, I think it matters in this regard as it means there was only two of us that were willing to try it with one gear.  I'm already looking forward to next years race and I'm hoping to shave at least a half hour or more off my time.  The weather is unpredictable for this race and that's what makes it so appealing.  Well, at least, once you're done.

Happy Trails My Friends




 

The Burn

Another year and another first.  The Tillsonburn, aka, The Burn, set in Tillsonburg, Ontario on Good Friday each year.  A distance of 50, 100 or 160km. I of course, took the middle ground and did the 100k.  I thought this would also give me the last little push in my training for P2A.

This is a race/ride put on by Jeff and his wife (owner of Indigo Lounge) and there is no fee. Bring a donation and money for chili and you'll be doing your part in helping some well deserving teen with a new bike.  What a great concept.  And, the day was absolutely perfect for it.

On the way there, I'm thinking, this will just be like the D2R2 except on flat; well, everything appeared to be flat leading into Tillsonburg. Gone are the distant memories of randonneuring some 2000m in elevation with some of the hardest roads I had ever climbed.  And just like the D2R2, you cover the course in a self-sufficient manner.  Similarly, it's a mixture of paved, gravel, dirt roads, along with some rail trail and single track.  It didn't take me long to figure out why they call it the Burn.  In full, its not a misprint and to abbreviate it, is not to save room on paper.  My legs were on literally on fire and everyone just kept saying, including the event t-shirts "just one more hill".  Did I mention, I'm slow on hills?  I always get left behind. Definitely, a skill I need to improve.  Back to speaking of hills, haven't we heard that a million times and each time, we know its just plain BS.  There is always another one.  In this case, there was plenty more. 

One section of road, between two paved roads, was this muddy sandy mixture that really kept my focus.  I was being overly cautious not to get dragged into the soft spots.   Now, had it been
quicksand, it may have been a blessing for me, well, as long as no one came along to haul me out.  However, I thought to myself, if I'm going down, as least this seems like a pretty soft landing.  Also, I may get dirty, but, at least I won't be all scraped up.  I usually save my war wounds for mountain biking.  Still go down at least once with every time I go out. 

At 50k, there was a descent down to the lake and there was a public restroom, which would have been ideal had it been open. This is where I found Cornel  He decided to wait for me after losing me some time ago on one of those hills.  To be honest, I had gone down after hitting some loose gravel after turning to talk to someone ascending the hill. I don't think he was impressed that I had a lack of focus.  Okay, so, I like to talk?  I can be very social, especially if it takes my mind off the task at hand.  That was a bitch of a hill anyway.  Its was a good tactic to earn the right to walk the rest.

We hit the 70k mark on the rail trail and although I may have slowed my pace, I still had energy.  At this moment, I felt good about where I was at for the P2A.  This year will be my second attempt at racing that.  I guess for me, its more like a ride as I only averaged 20km per hour.

Soon after, we hit some single track and I lost some time there as I was a little gun shy after my wipe out at Hardwood Hills last year during the Epic 8 hour relay race.  I need to find my confidence again.  Its out on the trail somewhere.  The mixture of the terrain on the course was incredible though.  A good mix and well designed course. Kudos to Jeff on all his efforts in bringing it together. 

Although, I was happy when it was done, I am looking forward to doing this one again next year.  One last note of mention, when the flyer has a caption at the bottom, that declares, "this is no sissy ride", pay heed.

Happy Trails My Friends

 

D2R2

I've heard of this race, (for all intense purposes we will call it that), referred to as many things, including Hell. And its not just the name that's clever. The courses are well designed and all the proceeds benefit the farmers and land owners that want to protect it from unwanted development. And without farmers....there would be no beer.

 I must admit, studying those elevation maps, watching all those videos and reading the numerous blogs prior to the event, had me a little terrified.

Time to pick up our race kits and meet a few locals

We arrived on the Friday around six to pick up our race kits and everything was well organized with numerous volunteers and and there was a plethora of D2R2 souvenirs to choose from (jerseys, mugs, posters, arm sleeves, etc).  The maps and cue sheets were printed and waiting.  There were a few vendors too which included, "Dug's Art" , a local artist with an extensive racing background and
his stories were as vivid as his paintings.  "The People's Pint", a local brewery and restaurant in Greenfield attended, serving up burgers and beer.  Plus a few more.  Cornel and I  anxiously grabbed for a cold one, for the carbs of course-it had absolutely nothing to do with that seven hour drive.  Unbeknownst to us, was the group of cyclist that had gathered on site at the People's Pint.  We'll be sure to follow up on that one next year.  Oh yeah, there is definitely going to be a next year.

The starting line

As we were toeing the start line, or wheeling in our case, I for one was happy that we had decided to scale it back to the 100km distance.  Everything about this "race" was very relaxed and casual, except for the actual distances and routes-oh, and did I mention elevation?  We took off shortly after 9:00 a.m. and had a good warm up section, traveling on pavement, before the climbing started.   The first hill I took pretty fast and Cornel worried that I would tire myself out too quick.  I was just thrilled our first climb was on pavement; I had also set a goal of finishing within 6 hours and I was pumped, well, at least for the first half hour.  The asphalt road quickly turned to dirt and the climbing on intensified.  I assured myself that all the climbing must be at the beginning.  Prior to the first water stop, there was a steep paved incline and I had to dismount and walk my bike up as I couldn't see a thing.  The sweat was dripping down into my eyes and stinging with contact and without travelling at any significant pace, my glasses were fogging.  This is huge for me as typically I'm not much of a sweater, mostly just a little perspiration; something that resembles Mickey Mouse. That's all I will say about that.   It was only an hour into the race and things were heating up by 10 a.m.  Cornel easily pumped his way to the top.  The assemblage of road surfaces as we wound our way up the hills of Massachusetts made it quite cumbersome, but, on we trekked.

Pickle Juice

When we got to the first water stop, my time limit already expired as we were an hour and fifteen for the first 20km.  That would add another hour over and above.  It didn't seem like an aggressive goal at the time.  I grabbed my half empty water bottle and headed to the water jug to refill it.  On the jug, was a written sign that said "pickle juice" and I thought how cute. What a great simile.  Not so cute and poetic after all, because after I took a big mouthful of the stuff, I realized it was legit.  I've done a few races, marathons, ultra's, a half ironman and never, not once was I ever provided with pickle juice, flat cola maybe, but, never pickle juice.  If you can get by the taste, that stuff is apparently magical, or so I heard.  Much like cabbage juice on a hangover.  I did end up dumping it out, as I was worried about the mixture of coconut water and pickle juice and didn't want to have any emergency stops.  I was a little unprepared in the kleenex situation.

The stunning views of Franklin County

As we departed from the water stop, we had company and some of the people started to become familiar.   There wasn't a whole lot of conversation going on, but,  I think that was mostly attributed to attrition, better save it for the next climb.  Within a very short time frame, we ascended our way up and once at the top, you had to grab a photo or at least blink your eyes.  The vista was breathtaking and laid down the perspective of all your climbing thus far.   It was certainly worth the view. The distinction between green and blue was truly epical. Now, this is living. Shortly, thereafter, we were halted by a fire truck as one of our fellow cyclists had gone down. Glad that he was okay. This is the dilemma, you are on a paved decent and then the surface changes to gravel.  There was a lot of sections like that. At the end, we had heard, there was only four mishaps of a similar nature, but, everyone was okay.  Lucky for me, my coach, Cornel has always taught me to stay loose and reactive; much to his chagrin, I still take the downhills with not near enough caution, loving that top-speed.

Almost 3 hours in and we had hit our lunch spot.   A captivating little oasis in Vermont by a relaxed river and covered bridge that was currently under construction. We probably spent at least an hour there enjoying the lunch that was provided.  There was also another pickle juice table and they were serving shots this time. I graciously accepted the sour and salty notes for the gains they would provide as the day continued to heat up.  Thankful for what little breeze there was.  Departing from lunch had to be one of my most favorite spots on the course.  The road followed the river and it was pretty much flat and shaded, so a good way to digest lunch and warm back up again.  This was also the section for the family ride and I was impressed with all the youngsters that were riding their bike.  We still have some work to do where my grandson Kingston is concerned.  Hopefully, one year soon, he'll be able to join us.  I was still convinced, quite unequivocally that we must have completed the majority of our climbing prior to lunch.   Cornel also has this sinister side to him, evilly telling you that there is just one more climb.  All in all, I was still feeling good and was still pretty strong on the climbs, relatively speaking. I just preferred not to do anymore.  Unfortunately, the choice was not mine to choose.  By the end, was had a total elevation gain of 1800m, which was just 200m shy of the hike we did in Austria.  The comparison really put things into perspective for me.

Cornel pondering how I beat him up that last hill.

 One of the most significant clambers in my opinion was on the way up to the orchard.  It is appropriately named Apex Orchard. I received the full definition from a cycling perspective from Cornel.  Who Knew? We were greeted with cold peaches and apples, cookies and other hydration.  It was hard to leave, but, knowing that there was only 20km remaining before cold beer was enough to put you back in the saddle.  Upon leaving, Dr. Evil made his usual remark.....just one more climb.

It was a nice descent and although, I still felt good, I was content knowing that the ride would be over within another hour or so.  There was a technical tailspin close to the end and this is where I suspect I broke my spoke.  It was the only casualty, so not so bad.  This last sag was also another concern for Cornel as he felt I was taking it way too fast for my level of expertise.  Poor guy, I can only imagine the amount of cringing he must do riding behind me making sure that I'm safe.Without him, I'm not sure I would have been able to do this journey.  He has taught me so much.  He is my rock. Fortunately, the broken spoke didn't cause any further damage, most of which, I was totally oblivious to anyways.

Following that, it was just a nice flat section where you could sprint to the finish if you still had the legs to do it. It was such a moment to cross the line with some energy left to eat, drink and enjoy some camaraderie amongst the other cyclists.  Each of us giving a full description of the days events and our favorite portion of the course.

Looking forward to heading back up there next year and hopefully taking some friends along for the ride.

Happy trails my friends.

July Movement

Upon seeing the following quote from Dr. Steve Maraboli and a slight prodding from Cornel, I was inspired to write about the events of the past weekend:

"Yesterday was not your defining moment.  The calendar moved forward; why not you?"

The game plan was to do a trial run of the Hardwood course for the Epic 8 Hour Summer Reggae race the following weekend.  Cornel and Zen are the glue that will hold the team at a respectable time and I am the weakest link.  However, what I lack in experience (only my second year MTB), I make up for in passion and resilience.  I say pliancy due to the shear amount of times that I have fallen, scraped, cut and bruised myself and my ego on attempting to get better at this sport.

I'm ashamed to admit, but, the first miscalculation came prior to getting on the course.  It didn't prevent me from continuing as I came here with a mission.  I've pretty much concluded that long dresses are a must for me during MTB season.  There are also certain other benefits to falling at this age---I have confirmed without the aid of a physician that I do not have osteoporosis as my mother has.  As I rapidly approach 50, this is an important discovery.

The first loop of the course was not uneventful with a few more spills, but, I was surprised to have completed it within the hour.  Cornel has the patience of a Saint.  He carefully rode behind me to watch my technique and offer any guidance along the way.  Zen led the way and already had an extra loop in on us.  The second loop again proved uneventful and lucky for me, the ground was quite soft with the lack of rain.  My confidence was improving as I was able to shave 6 minutes off my previous run.  I'm really not hoping for much better during race day as both Cornel and Zen are just wanting me to arrive alive.

While I cleaned up the extra dirt I had acquired along the course, Cornel let out some steam on his final loop; finishing the course in 37 minutes.  I was amazed by his time and felt that we were in pretty good standing, until I heard from the pro shop that some of the practice runs had resulted in times of 20-26 minutes.  Oh well, if you're not first, you're last.


............then there was Sunday.  The game plan was to do an out and back on the T.H. & B rail trail from Dundas to Port Dover.  I was still suffering silently from the events of the day prior, but, wanted to do this ride in preparation for the upcoming D2R2.  Cornel and I had signed up for the 180k gravel grinder that takes place in Deerfield, MA.  It was a little bit ambitious at best for me, but, I get excited when I first learn of these races.  Then, all of a sudden, we are signed up and I'm trying to get some training in......all the while, pondering what I just got myself into.  

Town of Waterford

The ride was pretty uneventful at least until we hit Scotland (which actually has a nice paved section), where we met up with a couple from the area and followed them back to their place for a nice cold beer and some nibbles.  Now, these are the kind of rides I enjoy.  Saunter about ,saunter about.  Oh, and the cold beer.  After all, the temperatures were climbing, but, the trail was pretty optimal in regards to shade with good tree cover for a significant portion.  We headed back out after about an hour break and our next goal was to make it to Dover for an ice cream.

Once we hit Dover and our ice cream was devoured, Cornel figured out that we would need to maintain a 20km average if we were to make it back within full daylight.  Sleeping in does have an occasional disadvantage, but, I'll take it when I can.  I was committed to maintaining the average, so off we went, into the sunset, me and my blue beauty.  Everything was going relatively well until we hit Brantford; that's when I figured out my legs were done.  The muscles were starting to fatigue and it was everything I could do to keep going.  This is another one of those times that Cornel will say.....it doesn't matter if you go fast or slow, the legs are still going to hurt, so you might as well go fast.  If only I could convince the legs of such matters. I believe it was at this moment that I figured the 180km D2R2 route was probably more than I could chew, considering the elevation gains and we had just completed an entirely 156 of flat.  Cornel graciously accepted whatever distance I was comfortable with.  Its a difficult revelation to have to pull back the reigns, but, sometimes it just makes sense.

70 P2A

70 K Paris to Ancaster Classic Cycling Race

The fridge is becoming empty....not the contents, but, the postcards that adorn the front of it.  Well, until Cornel finds some new races that he is anxious to try and let me tell you, there is plenty.  I get weekly emails with links and YouTube videos of races all over the world, with the majority being held in North America.  I have to admit, I am pretty fortunate to have found an equal when it comes to his sense of adventure.  

So, our latest race, was the 23rd edition of the 70k Paris to Ancaster.  The course takes you over a terrain of rough farm lanes, trails and gravel roads.  I must say, I felt like a kid again, with the amount of dirt I ate that day.  The route takes the riders down dirt corridors with trees on either side and rolling hills of grass amongst the dirt and rocks, but, the sun was on your face and the robin egg sky blended into the green horizon.  It doesn't get any better.  I almost forgot to mention the mud pits; the last being the worst of all.  I took my honey's advise and walked down the Powerline portion, so I wouldn't have to clean my chain and derailleur after making it through. Not sure that I would have kept the momentum going anyways, so I spared myself some time, but, mostly the embarrassment of being covered head to toe in mud.  The course nicely finishes with Martin's Road, which is a climb of 1.3 km.   I will get to see this road again (8x) in about a month when I attempt my first 100 Miler at the Dundas Conservation area.
   

We had fabulous weather considering how unpredictable the Spring can be.  I was checking reports daily to ensure I would be mentally ready for the chance of rain or snow.  Thankfully, the day settled on mostly sun, fortunate for me with the gear I packed.  Cornel and I were in Wave 3, which nicely starts at 10:15.  I have to admit, I love races where you also get to sleep in, or relatively speaking.  We decided prior that Cornel would race and I would chase and this worked out essentially well for us as we both hit the times we were aiming for; if you subtract the time that we were delayed due to the course sabotage.  Its a shame that someone had decided to cut down mature trees to prove some sort of wayward point.  It takes all kinds, doesn't it and I'll leave it at that.  

This was also my first race on a CX bike, after just getting it in March.  I have to admit I love the
responsiveness compared to my Mountain bike.  It provides the ability for turning over the legs fast once you come out of a turn. Its got the power.  Cornel felt it was appropriate for the race and as always he was right. I'm looking forward to our next undertaking, whatever that may be.   

Happy trails my friends!