Day 1:
Roland and I had planned on this weekend to qualify for the 2008, first
annual Ride The Lobster, a momentous, international, 800K unicycle race
which will run the length of the province of Nova Scotia, Canada. The
qualifying ride is a complicated formula of two hard days of riding.
The formula figures in elevation and conditions, but boils down to two
days in a row of rides on the order of 45-50 miles each day.
Since the winter weather in the Northeast US is rather volatile, and in
fact, this year gave us the wettest February on record, we’d been
impatiently waiting for a two-day period when we were both free and the
conditions were at least somewhat bearable. On the Friday evening
before the weekend, we got another few inches of snow, so I called
Roland Saturday morning, wimpily suggesting we wait a couple more
weeks. Roland, not known for being reasonable, said “No way,
dude.” He wasn’t letting me off the hook, despite the
day’s meteorological promises of increasing winds and even more
snow squalls.
Roland drove over to our house in Delmar, New York and we packed up to
leave. Because of my hemming and hawing, and various other delays, we
started a bit later than was prudent, but on March 1st, 2008, at 11:50
AM, we began our quest to qualify for this upcoming, epic event. I had
planned a 60+ mile route through Albany, Rensselaer, and Columbia
counties. Conveniently, we arranged a lunch break at the house of some
good friends (good enough to feed and water us despite our filth and
polypropylene-magnified odors), who live just past our loop’s
halfway point.
Our first five or so miles took us north though the city of Albany, New
York, replete with potholes and other pavement blemishes, and plenty of
narrow, traffic-clogged streets. Combining those hazards with
liberally strewn snow and ice gave us a nerve-wracking start to our
ride. We made our way east, spinning down the hills of Albany, to a
quick photo-op in the capital buildings of the Empire State Plaza.
Next we turned onto the narrow pedestrian ramp which climbs up steeply
to the Route 20 bridge, a dizzying height above the Hudson River.
Still fresh, we cranked up to the top, flew across the deserted
catwalk, and bombed down the other side’s ramp, gleefully
ignoring the “Bicyclists must walk bikes” sign. The stiff
climb up this bridge would prove more difficult many hours later on our
return.
A few quick streets through Rensselaer put us heading south on Route
9J, the road we were to follow for many miles, with wide shoulders and
light traffic. Fortunately the plows had cleared most of last
night’s snow, and we were left with wet roads with only the
occasional pile to roll through. The north end of 9J is fairly flat,
running along near the river’s edge, nearly at water-level, with
just the train-tracks in between. Here we saw some red-tailed hawks, a
king-fisher, various species of ducks, and a few 80-mph Amtrak trains.
We were able to ride side-by-side chatting on the ample shoulder, and
the time and miles passed quickly, taking us through a modest town with
the pretentious name of Castleton-on-Hudson. Shortly after that, we
passed a modest road coming in from the east with the unpronounceable
name of Muitzeskill Road, and I pointed out to Roland that that would
be on our return route.
As we continued south, the shoulder of 9J became narrow and rather
beaten-up, but the traffic was still fairly light and we were able ride
mostly on the business side of the yellow line. We passed under a
gigantic set of bridges, the first carrying the New York State
Thruway’s eastern spur, the next a rail-bridge, and then the road
began to get more challenging.
Though remaining fairly close to the river, we now started alternately
climbing and descending the great bluffs lining the eastern side of the
Hudson Valley. This gave us some incredible, sweeping vistas from
along the ridge-tops, but now we were feeling the ride in our muscles,
and the shortish, 125mm cranks on our 36” wheeled unicycles were
reminding us that the easy part of our ride was over. Of course, each
time we descended, we realized that meant another climb, since our
friends, the Kirbys, have a house on top of these hills, and not the
lower level.
We followed the relentless undulations of Route 9J and finally arrived
at its southern terminus on the busier Route 9, our approximate
half-way point. We turned back north, toward the Kirbys’ house,
and, eventually, home. The high-speed traffic on Route 9 chased us up
into the town of Stuvesant, where I’d planned a clever route to
get us off the busy road, and onto Frisbee Lane. Roland and I know
each other from playing a sport called Ultimate Frisbee, so this seemed
appropriate. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the subsequent turns
well enough, and we soon found ourselves back on the hectic main road
of Route 9.
I knew my way through the town of Kinderhook to the Kirbys’ house
from here, but it added a couple miles of riding to our day. Ah well,
“that which does not kill us…”, and all that. We
finally rolled into the Kirbys’ driveway, dirty, hungry, and
tired, with a bit over 36 miles showing on my Garmin GPS.
Barb and Tom, and their son, Jack, popped out the door and uncovered
some Gatorade bottles they’d thoughtfully buried in the snow,
anticipating our arrival. Barb then served us some hot veggie burgers
and we sat, stinking up their dining room, eating ravenously and
pouring Gatorade into our thirsty bodies. Next, we called our
respective spouses to let them know we’d gotten at least this
far.
As I spoke to my wife, Rose, on the phone, I looked outside to see that
the weatherman’s predictions of snow and wind were coming true.
Complaining to her about the swirling whiteout outside the window, I
received her warm and sympathetic reply “Suck it up!”
She’s a woman who runs mountain races and 24-hour relays in the
rain, so I just laughed, knowing that attitude is why I married her.
We filled our camelbaks, changed into dry shirts and socks, re-donned
our sweaty, mud-spattered jackets and packs, thanked our friends
profusely, and headed out into the snow and now biting wind. Turning
north into the teeth of the storm, we fought our way up the highway for
a couple miles before turning back toward the town of Kinderhook. As
we climbed a short, but steep, hill into the small town, I mentioned to
Roland this would be one our last uphills until we reached the river.
“Of course”, I added, “we’ll probably be
fighting a stiff headwind the whole way.” I was right.
We followed County Route 21 out of Kinderhook, a lovely, meandering,
rural road with almost no cars and a sheer pleasure to cycle. In the
summer. Right now, though, it was conspicuously wintery, and the
headwind dramatically slowed our pace, chilled our toes, and made us
add mittens over our light gloves. While this road doesn’t have
many ups or downs, it proved to be the most draining part of our ride,
(so far), as we wrestled though the bluster and cold.
Having biked this road many times, albeit in the distant past, I knew,
as we headed north, we’d cross into Rensselaer county, and
eventually drop down the hill toward the river, once again regaining
the familiar Route 9J. As we wound past farm after farm, around bend
after bend, I began to doubt my own sanity, fearing we’d found
our way onto some endless, upwind road into the Twilight Zone. We
could be reduced to calling for help. “Honey, please come get
us, we’re somewhere north of Kinderhook, and the wind just
won’t stop blowing.” Of course, that would likely get me
another “Suck it up”, so maybe we should just keep pedaling
instead.
We crossed an intersection I recognized and I thought we’d
descend to the river presently, but I’ll be darned if that road
hasn’t gotten longer in the last ten years. Eventually, however,
we reached the long downhill and returned to the Hudson River, turning
north on Route 9J. There were still many miles to ride and the sun,
when we could see it, was now flirting with the horizon. Also, our
progress wasn’t as speedy as we would have liked; did I mention
it was windy?
After grinding north into the gathering dusk, we passed Castleton again
and began to make out the familiar shapes of Albany’s skyline.
To my surprise, from somewhere deep down, Roland found the energy to
speed up. I wasn’t worried. We both knew the way home, but I
did wonder how, after 50 miles, he managed to accelerate. At the same
time, I found no shame in not pushing harder, and just tried to
maintain a steady beat on the pedals, like some insanely repetitive
song.
As I watched his rear blinker dwindle out of sight, perhaps a mile
ahead of me, I had to admit something that was now glaringly obvious.
It was night. After a few more miles struggling with the north wind,
near the northern end of Route 9J, I saw Roland hunkering down on the
lee side of a trash bin.
I stopped and asked if he was OK. He said he’d sped up to give
himself a long-as-possible, off-the-seat break until I caught up. We
both dug into our packs and got out our headlamps for the last several
miles in the dark. Then, after a few tries each, (it’s much
harder when you’re tired), we remounted our unicycles and pedaled
to the Route 20 bridge back to Albany.
The narrow pedestrian ramp, climbing steeply up the bridge, proved
almost insurmountable in the dark, in our current state of fatigue.
Our arms were flailing and our wheels zig-zagging crazily as we fought
our way to the top. It was ugly, but we both made it without
dismounting, barely. The walkway on top was shockingly exposed to the
wind whipping down the river and bore little or no resemblance to the
ride we took across earlier in the day. Never have I had such trouble
riding a straight sidewalk.
We did get across and down into Albany, but now we had a big hill to
climb through the city to get back on the pothole infested streets that
would take us home. There are many parallel ways up the big slope, but
we had to pick one. When we did turn uphill we realized that the
roads' surfaces, just wet earlier in the day, were now glazed and icy.
Fabulous. Now we had to seek out the bumpier pavement to avoid
slipping on the ice.
About halfway up the grade, we both came off our cycles at the same
street corner. We simply could not remount on the slippery uphill, so
we pushed our cycles onto a cross-hill street before struggling back on
and finishing the climb. We bumped and jolted our way out of Albany
and into Delmar again. About a mile from home, Roland informed that
the phone in my pack was ringing. “It’s Rose”, I
said, “but there’s no way I’m stopping to answer it.
I’ll never remount.”
After one more climb, we pedaled the last stretch and got to my house,
with 62.83 miles showing on the GPS. We’d talked about getting a
“metric century”, or 100 kilometers, and by gosh, we did
it! Good thing, too, because Roland would have made me do laps around
my neighborhood if we were short.
Rose, tough-love and all, handed us each a beer and my kids, Monya and
Denali, were all smiles and congratulations. We were both spent to the
point that we couldn’t stop shivering, even sitting next to the
broiling woodstove.
Whew! We were done. Until tomorrow.
Day 2:
I woke up Sunday feeling stiff, but the only part that was really
hurting was my underside, from sitting so long on the seat yesterday.
Since our ride was so huge yesterday, we knew we only needed something
over 35 miles today for qualification for the Ride the Lobster race.
I called Roland but couldn’t reach him and I thought I might just
go and crank out a quick 10 miles, to get a start on the day’s
toils. Then I called another friend, Perry. He’s on a different
team in the race, but he’d done his first qualifier day
yesterday, too, and we made plans to meet down at the Albany bike path.
To get our needed mileage, we would be combining laps on the path with
an excursion into Troy, New York, across the river, for lunch at the
Daily Grind coffee shop. Meanwhile I reached Roland, told him the
deal, and he said he’d be a little late, but would catch up to us
and we’d all ride together.
The day was cold, but clear blue skies greeted us for our ride. Perry
and I rode five miles north on the bike path, crunching through icy
puddles, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. Sitting on a bench
overlooking the Hudson River, we watched the water sparkling in the
sunshine with small icebergs drifting lazily down the current. I was
feeling shaky and ate an energy gel, thought for a second, and sucked
down another. A call to Roland confirmed that he was riding our way,
so we headed back south to meet him and complete our first lap. Ten
miles down.
His ride from his house just about equaled our mileage so far and we
started back north, this time continuing on gently climbing city
streets, up to the Green Island Bridge and across the river into Troy.
Winding through the city, we found our way to the coffee shop. There
Perry and I ordered fresh mozzarella and tomato sandwiches, and Roland,
having already had lunch, ordered a rich chocolate torte. We also
ordered coffees all around and answered some unicycle questions from
the interested coffee shop employees.
Then we got back on our horses, headed out of Troy and back over the
river to the Albany side. We spun back to the bike path where we met a
couple girls who were sitting and tossing rocks into the water. They
were curious about our cycles, and the Roland got them to take a couple
group photos of us holding our wheels.
Then we just uneventfully rode to the south end again, clocking in at
the cars at something around 26 miles so far. Once more up and back
was all we needed and then we high fived and we’d done it.
Roland asked me, in all seriousness, “So are you riding intervals
with me on Tuesday?”, referring to our rigorous Tuesday night
workouts with unicycle “sprints”. I replied, in all
seriousness, “No.”
I drove him back to his house, had a quick beer and returned home. I
checked the uni distance calculator to make sure we’d gotten all
our necessary miles and we had. Then I ate dinner with my family, and
typed this.
Oh, just one more thing: Wooohooo!
Day 1 Stats:
Mileage: 62.83 miles, 101.12 kilometers
Elevation Change: 2854 feet, 869.9 meters
Objective Rating: *215 points*
Subjective Rating Adjustments: 30km strong winds, 20km night riding,
20km extreme cold
Subjective Rating: *311 points*, with a Next Day Carryover of 65.25
points
Day 2 stats:
Mileage: 37.77 miles, 60.78 kilometers
Elevation Change: 1048 feet, 319.43 meters
Objective Rating: 88 points + 65.25 points of carryover = *153 points*
Subjective Rating Adjustments: 20km extreme cold
Subjective Rating: *167 points*
Photos at: http://tinyurl.com/2cp5m5
--
steveyo
steveyo
...like having your own personal rollercoaster...
- a few 'uni race write-ups'
(http://home.nycap.rr.com/rduhan/uni_race_writeups/)
- muni and kokopelli uni 't-shirts, mugs and stickers'
(http://www.cafepress.com/steveyo)
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