Greens, mountains state

 

Yes, I liked that pun so badly 

(see, another equivalent pun) 

it became the title of this post.

This past weekend my friend Amy was promoter for the Vermont 100 running race. I like helping Amy because she is exceptionally good at appreciating volunteers. I also like hanging out with runners, and I also enjoy exploring by bike, so it was an easy choice to ride the 100 miles up to West Windsor, VT to help others with the much harder task of running that distance, or 62% of it for 100k competitors.

I left mid Thursday morning, rolling through Greenfield and Brattleboro, and finally taking the flatter off-route-5 option of River Road through Putney. Years ago, I'd ridden home after Brendan and Johanna's wedding in the Northeast Kingdom thinking, "Great, an easy cruise downstream along the Connecticut River." I thought wrong. Yes, I was roughly following the course of the river, but Route 5 in Vermont is roughly straight, while the river, and the flat topography alongside it, meanders a lot. My ride downstream had climbing, lots of it. So much so, I've since wanted to return and paddle the same route to truly benefit from potential energy of downstream travel.

Bonus of River Road was a nifty swim hole, which I used as simply a snack stop, 

but was happy to see two people arrive to use more fully just as I left.

Two weeks earlier, I'd checked off my couple year old intention of riding trails at Ascutney and riding to North Conway in the White Mountains, but I hadn't actually ridden to Ascutney. Thursday's ride checked that box exactly, with me closing the day under my blanket on the side of the mountain. All's well that ends well.

Friday morning, well rested, I filled water bottles from an outdoor tap on a base lodge, and charged my phone while munching my breakfast. Belly and battery topped up, I rode the last five miles to the race site atop Silver Hill Road. Yes, it had a pleasing view from the open field that served as the temporary village of runners, and horse riders, and their mounts for the weekend. The venue reminder me of the old, fun New England mountain bike festivals, just will hooves of various forms replacing tires. Both were good times!

Not long after arriving, I found Amy (just look for things happening), and she asked me if I wanted to run as a pacer with Matt, a Pioneer Valley local, for the last twelve of one hundred miles. I may have crossed paths with Matt prior, but later that day I truly met him, and then even later ate the tail end of my dinner with him. A good bloke, although, I could just say, "trail runner," which consistently is the same thing.

Matt and the rest of the hundred milers started at 4am Saturday, while I ate my breakfast slightly removed. It was dark, so I didn't miss seeing much filling my gullet. It was a slightly shorter day than the solstice, but I definitely give a tip of my hat to those, including the winner, who ran from dark to dark.

Part of the reason Matt requested a pacer is he's been living with atrial fibrillation for eleven years and figured some company and encouragement for the last twelve miles would help, but alas, at 9am that morning I received word he'd been experiencing afib events and pulled out of the race. I commended him for making a smart choice that day that would allow him to still be here and run the next!

In Vermont, no more nighttime running duty to complete, I went for old faithful and took a meandering ride on wonderful dirt roads down to Woodstock and the national historic park to explore it's trails on foot and read about the smart passive solar forest center building on its toilet stall. Excellent use of time and wall space, I think!

Woodstock can be lovely

The historical park had a fun trail to scamper

My return ride to the race site included 

an excellent forest road,

closed to motor vehicles!

I did return in time to see my friend Colleen finish second in the still-long-even-in-kilometers 100k. Of course, the finish line, that would welcome runners through the night with cheers and clapping, was only 100 feet from my previous night's bivy campsite, but fortunately, Vermont has no shortage of woods, so I had no problem finding a suitable alternate copse of trees for Saturday night.

I slept well, much better than the runners who were still finishing when I woke the next morning, although I know they made up for that deprivation in short order. The race even has a "zombie tent" with cots for precisely that purpose. One hundred miles is a pretty long bike ride. It is a pretty longer run.

But all things must end, and everyone saw their run come to a close in one fashion or another, and by early afternoon, we'd completed the clean up that was within our scope of duties, so I waved to Amy and Brian as they started their trip south in a box van full of race trappings. I could have departed as well, but opted instead for another couple exploratory loops on foot and sleeping that night under the shelter of the zombie tent, knowing that morning would great me with leftovers for breakfast, plenty of water, and my choice of portolet.

I woke early. Early meant fed, watered, and de-watered for a 4:30ish departure. I will still ride in the dark, but shocker, I will avoid it if I can, given that unfortunate experience a few years ago. One advantage of pre-dawn departure is I had plenty of time for the fifty to sixty mile ride to Jamaica, Vermont for a visit with Brian, Laura, and wee Willa, so I started on hoof alongside my bike for the first mile of dirt road climb.

There are things,

and views,

I miss from more frequent morning rides.

I'll say a good visit with friends was had by all, and I particularly enjoyed recognizing Laura's  expressions hours before she arrived home from library duties, just on Willa's almost two and a half year old face instead. Yes, genetics work, and Willa could end up a good runner as well!

Tuesday, I finished my ride home to Massachusetts, the state name Willa says with great pleasure. I like riding, and it was a pleasant roll more truly DOWNstream to Brattleboro, and then along the true valley of the river, including a stop at a favorite roadside spring. Roll, cruise, meander, I arrived home, well before dark, and well, a little heavier than I left.

I did pass on the gravel,

which is already passé enough

people are donating it to thrift stores.

The free pile shoes & then trailer

(easily pulled with the matching mount

 that lives on that bike),

I couldn't pass.