And the Hills Went on Forever: The Boston 600K

July 23 is unusually late in the season to be clipping in for a 600K brevet, but for a number of reasons, this was the first and only event of this distance on the RUSA calendar located in the Northeast that would fit into my schedule this year. I was also eager to ride this route since I've heard great things about Boston 600K events and have enjoyed riding with New England Randonnuers in the past. This plan also fit my goal to ride a complete SR series this year on routes I have never previously ridden. Finally, this event provided me with the opportunity to catch up with friends on Friday night a few miles from the start and to ride with my friend Jan D. with whom I had recently completed a team arrow event.

Apparently, this particular 600K route was first created in 2015 to provide those preparing to ride in Paris-Brest-Paris with a route containing similar conditions. As on P-B-P, the climbing is never particularly severe, but it is at times relentless, as it is through the hills and farmland of Brittany. There were even several times during the weekend when images of northern France came flooding back to me such as they did when I snapped the picture above.

After the sun came up, Jan and I rode through the first control stopping only to get our cards signed. We had fallen in with a quick group riding at a brisk pace and it felt right to be making good time before the heat of the day was upon us. We stopped at the second control just 11 miles down the road from the first where I enjoyed a ham and cheese sandwich and an iced coffee before filling my bottles with ice water courtesy of the kind-hearted souls at the busy truck stop.

Not long after our control stop, the day became hot, hot, hot just as we left behind the shaded roads we had been riding most of the morning in favor of the more open farmland of the CT River Valley. The one merciful aspect of a strong headwind is a cooling breeze, so we shouldered on without complaining too much. At one point in our journey, we came upon a swimming hole in a secluded river where Jake had set-up a secret control. I was happy to refuel with Gatorade and cold pickles while Jan took the opportunity for a quick dip.

We hit Brattleboro just in time for an early dinner at the Brattleboro Food Coop that served as the northernmost control on the route. The food selection was outstanding. I wolfed down some pizza, chicken salad and a piña colada smoothie that was simply out of this world. Jan needed to take a bit of a break to regulate his body temperature and I was more than happy to take a few extra minutes to rest here as well after a long day in the saddle. Luckily, our friend Nigel and a cyclist from ME named Chris, with whom we rode earlier in the day before his crank broke, showed up with appetites and we all agreed to depart together.

The road south to western Massachusetts provided not only a gentle average descent of at least 3-5%, but was also fueled by a mighty tailwind generated by the storm at our backs. Every now and then I looked over my shoulder to see the skies darkening just a little bit more with intermittent bolts of lightening crashing to earth behind us. It seemed as if we might outrun this storm, but as the skies darkened, we began to look for porches and barns within which to sit out the worst of it should it come to hit us with full force. Luckily, we seemed to catch only the edge of the storm and the rains were light enough that I did not even feel the need to pull over to the side of the road to put on my rain jacket.

The storm subsided just as we were riding through the fields of Deerfield near the start of D2R2 and a magnificent double rainbow appeared before us on the horizon. The storm brought cooler air just as the sun was setting so it became clear that our evening ahead would be far more comfortable than the afternoon hours had been.

We stopped for a second dinner around 10:00 pm in a small town that was reputed to contain the last services for the next 45 miles to the sleep stop in Williamstown. It was good that our stomachs and water bottles were full as we climbed the long and steady hills through the Berkshires to the town of North Adams. None of the hills struck me as too severe, but many were long and reminded me very much of my nighttime approach to Mortagne on P-B-P last summer. I do so love riding with friends on quiet roads at night after a rain, when the air is crisp and clean. As we passed the midnight hour, several of us grew sleepy and searched for a safe and dry place to lay down our heads for a few minutes to jump-start our attentiveness and enjoyment. After a bit of searching, we found a perfect spot for a 15-minute catnap at the top of a hill by a small village hall with sloping handicap access ramps. From here it was not far to the sleep stop located in a lovely house with warm food and dry floor on which to sleep. 

I had sent a sleeping bag ahead with my drop bag so was very happy to catch a few hours of shut-eye before heading off into the foggy morning light. I laid my head down at 2:05 am and must have been asleep by 2:07. I awoke with my alarm at 5:15 am and quickly packed up my gear and put on a fresh jersey for the ride ahead. Jan and Nigel had awakened earlier and Chris was still sleeping along with several other riders, so I clipped in and rode off by myself confident that I would run into others before too long.

As luck would have it, I did not really see much of anyone for the rest of the day and my ride became a solo effort with passing contact with a few other riders at spots I stopped along with way to refuel. At one point near South Deerfield, I waved at a passing rider wearing a telltale Rapha jersey only to be accosted several minutes later with cheers of “Hey George, how are you?” It turns out that John B. who recently moved to the area from Boston, recognized me and came over to share the road for a few minutes. Social media is a funny thing. It's not uncommon these days to run into friends you rarely see and have them ask you questions about your most recent activities they've been following online in real time. In this way, I knew that John had recently returned from a trip to Ireland and he knew of my summertime love affair with my new Brompton folding bike. After a few minutes, we went our separate ways and I was reminded of what great friends we make on these rides and how nice it is to feel the warmth of the cycling community in places far and wide.

As the heat of the day reached its peak, I stopped in Petersham Country Store where I enjoyed a delicious curried chicken salad wrap and a homemade iced cold brew coffee. Sitting on the porch to keep an eye on my bike, I noticed a police officer ambling over. Convinced I’d done something wrong, I managed my most courteous “hello” and it turned out he was a fellow cyclist simply eager to discuss the ride and cycling in general with a sympathetic audience. Soon it was time for me to hit the road again in order to make my final push to the finish.

As I hit the rollers into the final control, time seemed to stand still, or speed up, I’m not sure which. Despite the passage of time, I seemed to be making no progress at all as the horizon disappeared in front of me. At first, I had hoped to complete the ride by 4:00 pm, which (at 36 hours) would represent a middling effort at the 600K distance, an acceptable time for an event filled with socializing and sleep. As the day wore on, however, my 4:00 pm goal seemed less and less realistic and it increasingly looked as if 6:00 pm might come and go as well.

As I neared the finish, I saw Nigel loading his bike into his parked car. He urged me on and told me that he’d return to the finish in a few minutes. So I completed the day as it had begun: solo and a little sleepy. At 38:50, this would be my absolute slowest time on a 600K brevet, including the time I actually broke my arm midway through. And yet, it did not feel like a failure in any respect. On the contrary, I was reminded anew of how much I love randonneuring with its emphasis on camaraderie, teamwork and endurance. Completing an event within the required time limit is non-negotiable for me, but while I may have internal goals for particular events, these are all relatively easy to sacrifice in the interest of good times and adventure.

A Tale of Diminishing Returns: The Blue Mountain 400K

I don't think I've ever clipped in for a long ride without wondering what I left behind. At the first turn on the recent Eastern PA Blue Mountain 400K, I realized that this time around it was my wallet. Now, I can scrounge and forage with the best of them, but a flask of Hammer Gel, a few Clif bars and two bottles of water really didn't strike me as a large enough stash of rations with which to set off on a 250-mile journey, so I turned back to collect my money and begin again. It would be some time before I reconnected with the group, but my ride through the misty early morning hours along the Delaware River was exceptionally beautiful and reminded me of why I love to get on my bike before dawn to see a world that most people don't even know exists.

After 30 minutes or so I came upon my first randonneur repairing a flat by the side of the road. Establishing that he had all of the necessary tools, I continued on feeling noticeably more comfortable to be riding within the rando-fold. It was not long before I encountered several other randonneurs who were either currently or just recently dealing with issues that caused them delays. One of these was Jan D., who had just repaired a flat when we fell into riding at a common pace. My story made him realize that he too had forgotten his wallet and that combined with some unexpected house guests back in VT made him almost throw in the towel. He decided to hang in, though, and by the first control we ran into several other riders with whom we would spend large chunks of this brevet.

It was great to see volunteer Gil L. along the way with his broad smile and comforting knowledge of the route. By late morning, Gil was joined by Doug H. who eventually took over and hooked me up with some valuable chain lube in advance of the impending storm. The current Blue Mountain 400K route does not contain any particularly epic climbs, but like many of the the Eastern PA events, what it lacks in drama is made up for in choppy repetition. We stopped mid-day for lunch at a diner with table service and a nice outdoor seating area. The rains had held off, but the skies became more threatening as the day wore on so it was clear that we would get wet before too long. Doug, who had been tracking the storm on his phone, showed us a dramatic radar image of a wall of intense thunderstorms coming from the west.

The skies became increasingly ominous as we headed into the expansive farmlands of Lancaster County with the option to ditch into an available barn balancing the panic of being trapped in a thunderstorm out in open fields. Fortunately, the ominous skies never lived up to their full potential and we never suffered more than some passing showers throughout the event.

The group with whom I rode hovered between three and seven throughout the day, but ultimately settled into just Jan and me riding together for long stretches of the afternoon and evening. As luck would have it, I became extremely fatigued in the final hours of the ride and found myself having to stop every 20-30 minutes to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep on my bike. As a result, our pace slowed to a mere crawl and I felt increasingly sorry for Jan who hung in like a trooper to keep me from crossing the final stretches of the ride alone. It probably would have been more efficient to lie down for a proper nap, but each short rest provided the illusion that I would be able to carry on to the finish without sleeping.

As we slowly turned our cranks on the final approach to Quakertown, we saw lights approaching from the rear and were rejoined by two additional riders who had been following at a slightly slower pace. When we finally arrived at the hostel, the clock would confirm that it took us just over 24 hours to complete a ride I had planned to finish in 20. So much for muscle memory. I guess my lack of training and sleep during this busy spring caught up with me.

Up Next: the Catskills SR600 in two weeks. 30,000+ feet of climbing in 600K. What am I thinking?

At Long Last, a 1000K Medal for the Collection.

When I first began participating in brevets in 2007, I was struck by the heft of the well-designed ACP finisher's medals. Since brevets are not races, all who finish events within the prescribed time limits are entitled to a medal to commemorate the achievement. Not only that, to keep event costs down, medals are optional and must be purchased (for a nominal fee) by official finishers after the event results have been certified. This last fact brings endless mirth to my children who routinely ask me whether I've "bought any new medals" after finishing a brevet. The fact that not everyone is entitled to such a medal is lost on them. Oh well.

Medals are generic and available to finishers of brevets of all of the established distances (200K, 300K, 400K, 600K and 1000K) certified by Audax Club Parisien (ACP), the French organization that certifies and regulates randonneuring events around the world. ACP issues a new design series every four years to coincide with the running of Paris-Brest-Paris. As such, since 2007, I have collected awards in three designs. There is also an award that matches each design series, known as the "Super Randonneur," which is available to those who complete a full series of events (200K, 300K, 400K and 600K) within a given season.

The 1000K award is a bit of an outlier. Not formally considered part of a Super Randonnuer series, 1000K events are not even held in all regions that host randonneuring events. I first planned to complete a 1000K brevet in 2010 to prepare for and to receive an early registration slot for PBP 2011. Due to an accident on the NJ 600K, however, I was unable to clip in for the Lap of the Lake (LOL) 1000K in July 2010. Just six weeks later, when I was about two hours into the PA Endless Mountains 1000K, I was hit from behind by a distracted driver. As a result, the 1000K distance has grown to near mythic stature in my recovery plan. It was with great satisfaction, therefore, that I opened the envelope yesterday containing my first 1000K brevet medal. The only visual difference from the medals in this series currently in my collection is the silver color and embossed "1000km" lettering.

The completion of this 1000K in 2014 has provided me with a preregistration slot for Paris-Brest-Paris on April 26, 2015, which is a few days shy of my 50th birthday and one week before those who completed a 600K as their greatest distance in 2014 are able to register. While I'm not concerned about PBP selling out early, it is nice to be at the front of the line. Registration for PBP will also be a wonderful birthday gift to commemorate my first half century. The 1000K medal represents more than just an early preregistration slot to me, though. It is symbolic of my return to long distance brevets after a debilitating accident. I can assure you that it will not be the last 1000K medal in my collection, but it may be the most cherished.

Up next: the Princeton 200K in early September.

The Catskill 600K: The Perfect Brevet?

The Catskill 600K is one of my all-time favorite brevets. It seems to have everything: stunning views, epic climbs, thrilling descents, plenty of low traffic roads and incredible support, put on by an all-star team that includes organizer Don P. and his family as well as PBP ancien Brian B. who operates the sumptuous Woodstock control where riders take lunch at mile 110 just before entering the big hills. Not only is this route ideal, but the weather on this edition was simply perfect. Temperatures rose into the 70s with no wind or humidity of which to speak.

The route out of Westfield is lovely, ridden over smooth roads with no traffic. As the sun rises, which happens early on June 21, riders are treated to the bucolic misty fields of Litchfield County, CT. I realize that the uniformity of the Colonial architecture will transition into hardscrabble chaos later in the day as we enter the Catskills, but for now, I'm soaking in the views. The quick pace at the start settled down with several rabbits jumping off the front intent on riding this one for “time.” I decided not to attempt to keep up with those at the front of the pack and so instead settled into a comfortable pace on Rt. 40 which brought me all the way up to the NYS border at Millerton where I met up with Andrey and David who would be my riding companions well into the wee hours of the night when we finally arrived at the sleep control in Cambridge, but I am getting ahead of myself.

The ride through the Litchfield Hills into Eastern New York is gorgeous and Rhinebeck, on the shores of the Hudson River, is a gem. It’s always fun to ride down Main Street on a brevet as I often run into someone I know and this time it was Susan, a former colleague who shouted out “are you on one of those long rides of yours?” as I came to rest at the one stop light in town. “Yup, Westfield to Saratoga” I replied, not sure I had the heart to include, “and then Cambridge, Bennington and Shelburne Falls before heading back to my car in Westfield."

After our cruise through Rhinebeck’s civilized downtown center, we turned north on River Road, which afforded us spectacular, panoramic views of the Catskill Mountains we would be riding in for much of the afternoon.  The view is a bit closer and grander from the top of the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge a bit further down the road, but there is little time to savor it while each rider seeks to stay safely within the shoulder while avoiding sharp debris laying in wait. Once on the western shore of the Hudson, we make the short climb into Woodstock, (a harbinger of the hard work ahead) and we arrive at the control ready for lunch promptly at noon. This time around, Andrey's family is there to greet us, which was an unexpected treat.

The climbing out of Woodstock is never insane, but definitely gets one's attention all the way up to the next control in Windham. Shortly after leaving the Windham control where there is a fully stocked bike shop with professional mechanics, I blew the front derailleur cable and so was stuck with the use of my small front chain ring for the balance of the ride. With all of the climbing left to go, this was not a show stopper, but it would have been pretty difficult to maintain a 20mph+ average on the "flats" in a paceline. Good thing there were no flats to speak of on the remaining sections of this route. I actually found that the high cadence work helped to restore the vitality of my legs and will remember, when dragging along on future rides, to shift into a lower gear and avoid looking at the speedometer.

Midway through the ride, I began to consider petitioning Don to change the name of the event to the “Roadkill 600” as a result of all the local fauna in evidence on the course. Over the course of the ride I saw at least one of each of these animals (no longer breathing) on the pavement: Blue Jay, House Sparrow, Snake, Turtle, Weasel, Chipmunk, Squirrel, Groundhog, Opossum, Cat, Skunk and  . . . wait for it . . . a Black Bear. While some of these are “life-listers,” we strangely saw no roadkill of the deer or a rabbit variety, both of which are common sights along these rural roads.

It’s not uncommon for me to encounter a period of dark despair on a long ride and on the Catskill 600 this year, this time came as we made our way from Schenectady to Saratoga. Riding in the dark can be a joyful, meditative and clarifying experience or it can be sheer hell. On Sunday morning, between midnight and two a.m. it was the latter.

Like Mother Theresa, though, Don’s daughter Mary ministered to the beaten and downtrodden among us with offers of hot lasagna and salad. After a quick bite and a hot shower, I headed off to catch a few winks before getting back on my bike for the final push.

90 minutes later, amidst a chorus of snoring, I awoke to a quick coffee and a bite to eat and clipped in for a very pleasant ride from Cambridge down into Bennington. This is a lovely stretch of road, which is relatively flat and filled with stunning views along the rural NY-VT border. Since I often catch this ride at dawn after a rest, I am often overwhelmed by the beauty of the area and this day was no exception.

In Bennington, a group of us stopped for a protein-rich breakfast at McDonald's and contemplated the ominous climb ahead. We all knew that after we clipped in, we faced a serious hill whose peak was about 2000 feet above our heads and required cycling up about 6 miles of road to get to. Luckily, my cocktail of rest, food, coffee and 600 mg. of ibuprofen was working its magic and I hit the hill with a new set of legs. I felt a bit like Floyd Landis on the 2006 Tour. After topping the climb there is some lovely high meadow riding until a right turn introduces serious downward motion in the trek towards Shelburne Falls where there awaits a most amazing control filled gourmet sandwiches of all shapes and sizes, which serves as a powerful magnet indeed. I was rejoined in this section by Chris, Jim and John who became fast friends and enjoyable riding partners for the remainder of the day.

The final push from the Shelburne Falls control to Westfield is beset by some of the most terrible road surfaces I have ever had the displeasure of riding. Did the highway supervisor abscond with the funds? Are the locals numb from the waist down? I can’t understand the source of such utter civil neglect. Needless to say, this makes the course harder than it needs to be, but it was a joy to know that the end of the route was less than a hour away. After a final beating on these roads into Westfield, the four of us arrived at the New Horizon's Bike shop at 4:10, just over 36 hours after we left. 

Lessons learned (or remembered):

• Riding with others is generally more fun than riding alone.
• My digestive system seems to prefer real food to synthetic nutritional aids.
• Sleep deprivation takes a toll. Go into a long ride with a full tank.
• Plan to sleep after a long ride before driving home.
• Battery-powered lights are a serious distraction. Swap wheels when I swap bikes to always undertake night rides with the dynamo hub or buy fresh Lithium batteries as a last resort.
• Bring ear plugs to any overnight brevet. “Nuf said.

Next Up: Lap of the Lake 1000K in two weeks.

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The Englewood 400K is One Badass Ride

Don't let this bucolic farm picture fool you; the Englewood 400K is no stroll in the park. It follows one badass route, filled with hills (both choppy and long) that can feel relentless at times, but for me, it was perhaps the timing of this particular event with a late 7:00AM start that threw me for a loop. Starting in Englewood, NJ on the western edge of New York City, the route follows the Hudson River north to Rhinebeck before heading back south through some hilly and beautiful countryside. There is plenty of lovely scenery to go around, but you have to work to earn it on this ride, which should leave you feeling a high degree of accomplishment once you reach the end. It contains about as much variation and adventure as I've seen on a 400K route.

The Englewood 400K is put on by NJ Randonneurs, who again applied a high level of care and support along the way. Each of the controls was staffed with cheerful randonneurs happy to share some cold water and local advice.

The Shawongunk Ridge is a local treasure to those of us fortunate enough to live in the Hudson Valley. Home to the Mohonk Mountain House and Minnewaska State Park, the ridge is technically not a part of the Catskill Range, but provides wonderful climbing complete with stellar vistas like the one above. On this event, riders come up and over the ridge from Ellenville rather than New Paltz (where I typically ride). At 4.5 miles, this hill deserves respect, but also provides some relief in the form of varying pitches and remarkable views, which is especially true in the late afternoon.

One of my favorite parts of the ride was the opportunity I had to ride with Bill R. and his remarkable velomobile. While I've seen photos and read ride reports, this is the first time that Bill and I have had a chance to ride together since he traded in his diamond frame bike for the White Arrow. Let me tell you, this is one cool vehicle. I was amazed by Bill's facility and persistence powering this machine up hills of all types. Luckily, since the speed differential between Bill's up and Bill's down is so significant, that he was able to hopscotch the lead group for much of the day and we had a chance to catch up with one another.

As far as my own personal odyssey, this really is a tale of two rides. I rode comfortably up front with David, Tim and Chris (and Bill) for the first have of the day, but after the halfway point, I began to suffer from a sour stomach (likely the result of too much heat and Perpetuum) that forced me to fall off my pace and climb like I had rocks in my socks. As a result, I rode the second half of the event solo, which made for a somewhat majestic and somewhat spooky crossing of Harriman State Park in the wee hours of Sunday morning. At about 2:00AM, I was so tired that I decided that a nap on the side of the road was preferable to dozing off and falling into a ditch so I pulled over (at the suggestion of volunteer Bob T.) at a firehouse where I dozed for a bit on the benches of two picnic tables pushed together. Upon starting up again at 4:00AM, I was in much better shape and able to attack the last 30 miles with determination. 

You can read a fine account of the event over at Iron Rider.

Up next: The Catskill 600K out of Westfield, MA. One of my favorites.

The Ronkonkoma 200K: Two Ferries, Two Islands and a Very Big Duck.

The Ronkonkoma 200K is one of two brevets put on by the Long Island Randonneurs this season. Only in its second year, LI Randonneurs sure knows how to throw a party. This event had almost 50 starters, many of whom had not previously ridden a brevet of any type or size, which is a testament to the club's ability to effectively spread the word. Having ridden the club's inaugural brevet last season, I knew I was in for a treat that was well worth the price of admission.

This Saturday's event began at 8:00 am at the Ronkonkoma station of the Long Island RR and both the time and the location serve to accommodate the needs of NYC riders who want to travel to and from the ride via public transportation. At the start, RBA Steve and his partners Susan and Dan were filled with energy and good cheer as they signed riders in and offered hot coffee and bagels to all who were interested.

After a listening to Steve's safety instructions and wise advice, riders clipped in and hit the road. The first leg of this brevet involves riding over some pretty flat, low traffic roads that lend themselves very nicely to pace line riding. Aided by some healthy tailwinds, it was not too difficult to keep the pace above 20 mph most of the way from the start to the first control.

We arrived at the control with Steve still smiling as he signed in riders and doled out drinks and energy bars. After a quick pitstop, I headed out in search of the ferry landing only eight miles away.

The delight of our ride to the eastern tip of Long Island at this time of year involved seeing calm blue waters, peaceful back roads, low season activity in the quaint, historic villages, scores of diminutive pine trees and colorful early spring blossoms.

There are also two short ferry rides on this route, which provide great views of the coastline, the smell of the sea and allow riders to take in scenic Shelter Island for all of about 4-1/2 miles.  It's also nice to have a forced rest break while technically moving forward on the route.

Returning to the main island after our second brief ferry ride, we wound our way through the North Shore, which is filled with more wineries and fewer people than it's southern sister. In the final 25 miles, though, the generally flat terrain gives way to a series of choppy hills that were not exactly welcome after pounding out the preceding 100 miles in the 20+ mph range. Ouch!

Finally, what ride to eastern Long Island would be complete without a nod to the great Big Duck?

Up Next: the Blue Mountain 400K organized by PA Randonneurs this coming weekend.

Goals for 2014: the Lap of the Lake 1000K and Beyond

One thing I love about the coming of winter is the chance to sit back and assess the past while planning for the future. As a cyclist, this process begins for me when RUSA posts the ride schedule for the coming year in early October and my head begins to spin with options for organized rides around the country.  For me, the structure of the year is largely determined by the longest ride that I will build towards as the ultimate goal; a ride that from the comfort of the couch seems like it might be slightly out of my reach. Once this is established, I look to build the season around brevets and training that aligns with my family and work obligations.

This year, the answer for me was obvious. The last time I had planned to ride in the Lap of the Lake 1000K (LOL) was 2010. It was to be the major goal of that season of riding and was to serve as the event that pushed me to the top of the pecking order in the new system of pre-registration that ACP established to regulate the size of PBP. While preregistered for LOL, though, I was unable to start due to a humerus fracture I sustained during the NJ 600K that June and I had let let my pal Andrey ride on to success without me.

2010 was a momentous year in my life. It was the season I pushed myself to complete a full SR series in under 60% of the maximum time allowance, or or R60 according to the rules of the Cyclos Montagnards challenge set up by Jan Heine and the folks at Bicycle Quarterly. I was interested in this challenge as a way to assess whether I could successfully complete PBP in under 56:40, which at 60% of the total allowable time of 90 hours, would qualify me to become a member of Le Societe Charly Miller. By June, things were going pretty well. I had finished the Princeton 200K, Saratoga 300K and the Boston 400K all safely within the time limits. It was my strongest season ever; I felt like I was on top of the world. This feeling would not last long.

In late June, I set out to complete the NJ 600K, a beautiful, flat ride through the magical Pine Barrens of southern New Jersey, in under 24 hours. Never having completed a 600 in 24 hours, I was not concerned about the pace or the distance, but rather the impact of riding straight through the night without sleep. To make matters worse, the ride start was at 10:00pm and I clipped in after a full day at work. Starting out strong, I fell in with Anthony M. from VT and we kept pace as we rode through the peaceful night and reached Cape May at the southern tip of the state by dawn. All was going according to plan until mile 309 when I lost focus for a nanosecond and hit a patch of sand on the shoulder and went down hard on the pavement. I knew something was not right with my shoulder, but thought it was more likely a muscle injury than a fracture as I clipped back in and rode with determination to the finish 66 miles down the road. Anthony was a prince and paced me as my speed declined. No longer able to hit the 24 hour goal, we finished in 25:50 and I was left with an R70 finish for the season.

The Lap of the Lake was less than two weeks down the road and while unable to secure a visit to the orthopedist in time, I knew something was wrong enough with my shoulder that 1000K was not a good idea. So I took a DNS and subsequently found out that my shoulder was broken. After six weeks in a sling, four of which were spent with family off the bike in Europe, I entered the Endless Mountains 1000K in hopes of completing the 2010 season with a 1000K under my belt to secure my spot in the first wave of US registrants to PBP the following year. As you may know, the Endless Mountain 1000K did not work out as planned. I was hit from behind by a distracted driver merely two hours after clipping in and spent the following six weeks in the hospital, and the following three years out of the hospital, recovering from 26 broken bones and three surgeries.

It's been over three years now since my accident and I've accomplished quite a few things on a bike about which I am very proud. I was permitted to ride again 9 months after the accident and in my first full year of riding I completed D2R2, a full SR series, the Festive 500 and an R-12. My perspectives on life and cycling have changed, though, as often happens following a catastrophic event. Since the accident, I've not been able to ride as fast as I once did. Neither have I completed an event over 600K. My ultimate goal, though remains clipping in to ride PBP in 2015. I doubt I'll be in shape to complete the event in Charly Miller time, but complete the event I will.

As all of us who consider ourselves randonneurs know, our sport is all about incremental change. This year, I will complete a full SR series and I hope to increase my pace to at least R70 limits to see if I am capable of training to ride more swiftly than is currently the case. LOL will also be a step along my journey to PBP. I need the experience that a 1000K close to home will give me to plan and build confidence for that legendary ride. LOL will not only be a stepping stone, though. If I have learned anything from my accident, it's to savor life as it comes. The Lap of the Lake will be an amazing opportunity to ride with friends in two countries along a majestic course around a Great Lake, which in itself is a goal worth savoring. Care to join me?

So here's to 2014. May all of your dreams come true.