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 and Steve ready to go |
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.
 |
 |
Steve on the streets of Albany, NY |
Roland goofing off under the "egg" |
|
Catwalk on the Rte 20 bridge |
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.
 |
 |
On Rt. 9J with the Hudson River |
Roland riding through Castleton-on-Hudson |
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.
 |
 |
Crossing under the huge railway bridge |
Resting after a big climb |
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.
|
Fighting cold headwinds on County Rt. 21 |
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?
 |
 |
Lengthening shadows on the same long road |
Just about dark, and getting chilly |
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 could manage 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 road’s surface,
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 get back on.”
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.
|
Perry |
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.
 |
 |
Crossing the Green Island Bridge back to Albany |
Perry and Steve spinning down Broadway |
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.
|
Roland, Perry, and Steve and their 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.”
 |
 |
More training Tuesday, dude? |
Ummm...here's an idea: 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
Link to maps and stats of Day 2 Ride