Don't be evil

I bemoan that Google, in their corporate reorganization under the new moniker of Alphabet, dropped that as their motto, but I'm inclined to at least partially forgive their willingness to shift to the dark side as their Maps has a tenancy to route bike directions off of motor vehicle accessible infrastructure wherever possible. That can often mean a lot more time on the bike, following a more sequitous path that might not be restricted to pavement.

What's not to like in that? Well, one could easily claim schedule delays, when what could be a ride of a little over four hours takes six. That's what happened when I headed to Winchendon on Saturday to spectate, and help as possible, at my friend Amy's Race for DFL (Dead Freakin' Last). I've never heard of this format, sometimes called a backyard ultra, in bike racing, but for runners in means repetitions of a roughly four mile lap every hour until nobody else is still willing to join the winner, who completes one more.

Think about it. It means not competing for speed, but stamina, or pig-headed stubbornness, if you prefer. A racer ultimately wins by breaking the competition. Sound awful? It could easily be, but remember, these are trail runners, the collection of nicest competitive athletes I have ever met. After about (I too was tired and don't remember exactly) thirty hours and another lap start on the hour, I headed out on foot to find the "trestle" on the nearby Ware River Rail Trail, and after shortcutting the start loop, I was recaught by the two remaining runners who were amicably chatting as they jogged up the dirt road. I turned around to cheer them on with, "If you two keep being so friendly, you'll be here forever!" 

James replied with, "I was just about to tell Athony it's his. I'm done after this."

It was only a quarter mile into the lap, so Anthony countered with ecouraging, "You still have plenty of time to change you mind!"

Yes, trail runners are that nice, or even nicer. I had gone to the start of this event last year, my freshed pinned and plated neck and I catching a ride with Max who was running with support from friend and coworker at Brookfield Farm, Bonnie. I'd stayed until the early afternoon and then caught a ride back to the farm in Amherst with the wife and son of Max. This year, I arrived around the same time as my departure last year, and I could see the effect that seven hours of steady movement was starting to have on many of the competitors.

Of course, first I had to ride there and work up a little fatigue of my own. Google Maps' "recommended" route had the longest estimate for time and distance, heading north on the west side of the Quabbin Reservoir, avoiding the constant rise and fall, and high speed traffic, of Route 202, so I opted for gaining latitude on the reservoir's east side, which I knew held a bevy of beautiful back roads. What I didn't notice was how many of these roads were avoided by instead following dirt rail trails.

Rail trails can be great, often following straighter lines and cutting through hillsides to then use the removed material to fill ajoining valleys. Of course, these speed advantages can be negated when the surface is rocky dirt and leaves, but as the winner of the DFL race knows, speed isn't everything! Happily, I hadn't RSVPed with Amy to help at any specific time, so I didn't stress much when my transit to the event took fifty percent longer than I expected. It was time well spent.

Google's route avoiding Route 32 

sent me across this sun dappled covered bridge,

and up a much bigger climb, 

but it also included scenes like this.

And this

Then to the Midstate Trail

With beauties like this

Leading to an old airstrip

And then away, through this cavern of pines

Then to the Ware River Trail 

which I later realized 

Might have led me directly to the race course, 

avoiding many miles of hills and roads.

I'll have to return and fine out!