Time rolls on

It is between ninety and one hundred degrees as I climb steadily, the sun overhead shines down through my bike helmet and jersey and into my soul.  The shadows from the trees on either side of the road fail to reach to the pavement.  Everything about this moment says heat, yet I recognize this open stretch of road as a spot where, in springtime when the snow is retreating, I have had to turn around as the snow on the road becomes solid just around the corner. 

The oddity of thinking of snow in the burning heat of summer reminds me of my own seasonality. Only a month ago I was lamenting my complete lack of fitness and now just between yesterday and today I will have nearly six hours of saddle time. 

At times my physical setbacks seem unending, yet if I step back wisdom tells me this too will pass.  After a spring that refused to come to an end, summer is here; dry, dusty and hot. Seeing the mountains now one would never imagine that in six months they will be blanketed with snow, subject to the long, cold dark nights of winter. 

Yes, today shows no hint of any other day, but those days will come.  I welcome today and I will welcome the changes when they happen.  For now, I will pause, breathe deep and be grateful.  

Welcome Back Brother

I'm riding!

As we began to emerge from COVID hibernation, I was delighted to find Feral Dave joining the Sunday ride. He was astride a new bike. Not the lightest, but he was able to keep up.  I could not be happier to see him riding again and to see our peloton welcoming him and his bike with open arms.  

Coffee and Lies # 188 Breakaways do succeed….in pain

Prepare to cry!

With summer vacations peaking there were but a half dozen of the black and orange men rolling this past weekend.  Most of us still have some significant Dolomite fitness in our legs so every week is another chapter in the book of leg breaker throw downs. 

I had reason to believe that there were some tired legs in the group which I thought could lead to a more social ride.  When Moonlight Burnside rolled up in all of his deep dish carbon glory my hopes were squashed like a late inning Mariner lead.

I often channel my inner Jens Voigt and try and animate rides for entertainment value.   Sometimes my actions lead to levity and the group takes a kinder, gentler pace.  This was my secret hope this overcast morning.

In a hushed voice I said to El Chefe’, “Let’s see if this works”  I rolled forward and pointed to Moonlight’s rear wheel and said, “It looks like there is a crack in the carbon right by the spoke nipple.”

As Moonlight and the rest of the group all leaned toward his rear wheel with eyes open wide I took off down the road unnoticed.  Just for fun I got down in the drops and pushed the pace. 

Typically a move like this, first pioneered by Scott Zorn, gets caught within a minute or two.  

As the climb started I downshifted and kept a good cadence and felt my legs strain as I kept the power high. I felt like I was putting out some big watts but I expected I would back off any second when the fast guys caught me and then ride the rest of the way with the group that had tired legs when they caught me.

I maintained a pretty hard effort and reached the top of the hill and I was still alone.  I was in a moderately aero position and although my legs were starting to burn I kept pushing.  They had to be coming up fast and I didn’t want to give up too early.

The road bobbed and weaved back and forth with nearly constant little rollers that gave me a reason to click up or down a gear.  I was nearly pegged and was wondering where the hell the fast guys were.  I knew I couldn’t keep this up much longer but it was fun to be out front.

I was able to choose good lines and the island was unusually quiet traffic-wise so now and then I could take the whole lane on a left hand corner.  My legs were growing increasingly upset with me as the duration of my folly kept increasing.  It was now well over ten minutes and I was still a lone man settled deep in my pain cave.

I focused on relaxing my shoulders, using my hip flexors and keeping a smooth pedal stroke.  The focus may have helped me go faster or it may have only been a distraction that kept me from dwelling on the fire burning in my quads and hamstrings.

By now I wasn’t sure if the group behind me was singing camp songs, the victims of a horrible accident or about to catch me at any moment.  This ride had now evolved into a threshold test and I was determined to drive on until I was caught or whatever.  I say whatever because I was getting hypoxic so my ability to reason was compromised thus my mental options were limited.

I began to contemplate how I would approach the one hill on the loop as it was fast approaching.  If I attacked the hill I would blow up and if I took it easy I would squander my hard effort.  As I was pondering this question I felt a hand on my back as the boys finally caught me.  

They were a sleek paceline of OCD middle aged fellows in perfectly matched kits.  I tagged onto the back and tried to recover ahead of the climb. 

A smarter rider might have employed the technique known as the “sprinter’s fade.”  That is where you start a climb in the front of a group and then finish the climb in the back of the group.  You are still in contact therefore you can latch onto the paceline and the draft can save you as you recover.

Instead I was at the back at the base o fthe climb and when the paceline blew apart our group of six was splintered and El Chefe’ and I were left chasing Coz whilst Moonlight, McWoodie and El Jefe’ were growing smaller and smaller up the road.

What is the point of having a maximum heart rate if you don’t reach it every now and then?

El Chefe was spitting lactic acid and laughed at his promise to keep the ride limited to Z2 or below.   We finished the loop in TTT mode.

We turned around and all too quickly it was on for round two.  This time El Jefe’ was the instigator and soon we were flying northbound on the west side of the island. 

At first I thought McWoodie was keeping Moonlight pinned in so he couldn’t rotate back forcing Moonlight to tire and possibly avoiding a shootout.  That option faded and we rotated through and I took my turn in the wind. 

When McWoodie and then Moonlight came to the front it ramped up and then up again and finally it was all on.  We were going faster and faster and I kept upshifting even though we were going slightly uphill.  I was running out of high end gears and we were going crazy fast.  

One of the ways I know I’m nearing my limit is when instead of my quads or calves hurting everything from my toes to my shoulder blades starts to burn. I was still feeling the burn from my solo effort thirty minutes earlier and wondered how long I could keep this up. 

El Chefe’ who had gone long the day before shot off his flare gun and dropped back when his heart rate caught and passed his power output.  Moonlight finally pulled off and El Jefe’ took up the charge with a vengeance.  In the moment of disorganization Coz then pulled his ripcord and swerved off and waved us through.  McWoodie dropped back pretending to form a chase group but then powered up and started up and pulled away from me but a gap had formed and I could not close it.  McWoodie bridged up and then Moonlight, El Jefe and he drove on as I looked for the team car in hopes of getting a pair of fresh legs.

El Chefe’ and Coz and I formed a grupetto of broken men.  On the climb up to the bridge we waved at Moonlight who was now headed home and we said kind things as we silently cursed him. The five survivors reassembled in the park and crossed the bridge together. 

One of the hot topics (pun coming) these days is the use of spicy concoctions as a remedy for cramps. I didn’t see anyone take a swig but there was a bottle of hot sauce on the table when we partook of coffee and lies following the ride.

RAMROD 2016 Ride Report - Guest Post

In 2016 McWoodie Honored the black and orange in the fabled NW classic.  

This is his report:

Let the games begin!!

Following the advice of Hank “I’ve only done RAMROD 17 times and would do it again if I could use an oar” a.k.a. The Coroner.... Mike, Steve and I had a prompt (yet slightly painful) departure at 4:15am with a goal of getting to the start line in Enumclaw around 5:30-5:50 (“before all the fast guys have left” said Hank).  En route to Enumclaw, I shared two RAMROD rules with RAMROD virgin Steve: “don’t have your nose in the wind for more than a minute, and be sure to be in a large group after the last food stop.”  More on this later…

True to Hank’s words, we rolled through the starting line at 5:45am along with two fast looking Audi riders.  Looks did not deceive, and it turns out the Audi team has their own version of Big John.  The larger of the two guys proceeded to take 5 minute 25mph pulls and the second guy would occasionally come around him to take his own pull.  It took them about 45 minutes to get smart and finally accept the offers from us to do some work and the 5 of us worked well together, flying past many groups who had rolled earlier.  A good sized train eventually formed behind us, but we kept rotating through with just the 5 of us to keep things safe (at least for us).  Right before the Eatonville food stop we were joined by a guy named Josh who was riding strong and joined our rotation. 

At Eatonville, the Audi guys found 7-8 of their teammates and it looked it might be a little while before they got the group momentum to roll, so after saying “thanks”, Steve, Mike, Josh and I got back on the road.  On the first small climb out of Eatonville, Josh and I started to pull away from Mike and Steve.  I let Josh go off ahead and drifted back to Mike and Steve, where Mike proceeded to implore me to go off ahead.  Accepting the reality that we may actually all be happier that way, I bridged back up to Josh and we got to chatting.  I learned he had quite the road racing season this year, though he’d never ridden RAMROD.  Hmmm, this could get interesting.  Riding towards the park entrance, we wound up in a paceline with 6 other guys.  Which then became 5… then 4… then 3…  and by the time we rolled into the food stop at mile 56 it was just me and Josh again, though we weren’t going all that hard.....  

 Tell me when it just starts to tickle.......

We grabbed food and drink.  Just as Josh and I were getting ready to leave, Mike and Steve rolled in on the heels of a nice train of the Audi guys.  We chatted for a bit (they seemed to be doing well) and I headed off towards the park with Josh to start the climb up to Paradise.  We set a pretty steady pace.  Occasionally Josh was going harder than I wanted to (I didn’t want to leave Zone 2) so I would drift back onto his wheel for a bit before coming back for some side-by-side conversation.  It seemed like we were at the top in no time.  

The descent into Box Canyon was fun and fast.  I really felt the Dolomites descending form and was taking the sweeping turns at close to full speed and pedaling hard on the straight aways to build max speed.  Seemed like I barely touched my brakes.  Rolling into the food stop, I felt a slight cramp twinge and thought “that’s weird, never gotten cramps before on a descent – maybe I shouldn’t have been having quite so much fun”, so made sure to do a little stretching while wolfing down chocolate croissants and fruit – and pounded a teaspoon of salt that was there for the potatoes.  Couldn’t hurt.  Threw an extra banana in my pocket for good measure too.

 Climb McWoodie, Climb!  

I climb so well they gave me this stupid shirt....

Soon after leaving the food stop, the trouble began.  We were at mile 88 and I started to feel cramps simultaneously in both adductors and called out to Josh who was pulling to stop for a second.  I did a bit of stretching and pondered what the remaining 65 miles were going to be like.  We started riding again, dropping the pace, but within 5 minutes I cramped again.  Not sure what was going to be in store for me for the rest of the day, I told him to go on ahead.  Ate the extra banana and did some more stretching, then set out at a pretty easy pace.  At this point, I was in clear violation of Rule #1: “no nose in the wind for more than a minute”, finding myself riding solo all the way out of the park and up towards Cayuse pass.  I was able to gradually lift the pace and went back to a Zone 2 effort up the climb.  All on my own, I eventually started to catch and pass riders, but was trying to keep things easy to keep the cramping at bay.  

 Squashing Cramps is a lot like Squishing Gramps

I caught back up to Josh at about mile 104 (right at the water stop).  He was starting to feel the distance and I left him to ride at his own pace to the top of Cayuse feeling glad we had talked earlier about “sometimes it’s harder to ride slower with others”.  I waited for him at Cayuse for about 5-10 min.  When he still had not arrived when a strong looking group started to descend, I elected to join them.  Two cars being too cautious about passing cyclists took a little fun out of the descent (I wound up passing one of them on a straighter section), but the speed was fast with no use of the brakes until hitting the deli stop at Crystal Mountain.

The usual deli-stop feeding frenzy ensued.  Josh rejoined and we sat in the shade with the other group eating for a while.  We seemed to be out ahead of a lot of people.  I kept looking around for others to roll in so we could have a nice big train into the headwinds along 410, but few were arriving.  After a bit too much sitting around, Josh and I decided it was time to get moving even if it meant going out on our own (a clear Rule #2 violation).  

Fortunately, the headwinds on 410 weren’t too bad and we had a good pace going.  We caught a solo rider who joined us and rode with him until Josh got a flat.  We stopped to change the flat (the other guy kept going), and about half way through the process, magically as if out of the woods, a woman materialized with a floor pump and offers of food and water.  Gotta love the supportive spouses of RAMROD riders.   Just as the flat was fixed, a big train of riders came past so we jumped on our bikes and jumped on the train.  Although the train was going a little slower than we were on our own, we were doing a ton less work which was definitely welcome at this point.

We turned off of 410 towards Mud Mountain road.  Josh got another well-timed flat as the large group seemed to be gearing up towards a sketchy Cat 6 sprint to the finish.  So, we stopped and patched that (as my new spare tube had a puncture -argh!), then ripped down Mud Mountain road and rolled into the finish.  Cold drinks, ice cream, a rinse off with a hose, and a lounge chair in the shade were perfect.  Mike and Steve rolled in about 1:45 later.  As mandated by tradition, we grabbed dinner at Hank’s favorite Enumclaw Mexican restaurant and headed home at 6pm with zero traffic.

 Tourists.........

My numbers: Elapsed time: 9:05.  Rolling time: 7:51.  Average speed 19.5mph.  Number of rules violated: 2.  Max Avg Power (20 min): 244W (low end of Zone 3).  Distance 153 miles. Elevation gain 9.259.  Garmin thinks it was a 5297 calorie day.  Time to start eating, again…

Thanks to McWoodie for sharing.  He shared an earlier ride here.

Italy Wrap up and Lessons Learned

From a personal standpoint the trip was a big success. In large part because my preparation took into account the lessons I learned from all of my past experiences including our 2012 France trip. Additionally fear was an effective and sobering motivator.  Biting off more than one can chew is a tried and true technique.

We all took this trip seriously and pushed hard individually and as a group to get ready for it. The universal encouragement was good on both sides of the equation. Although fit, we all had creaks and groans that told the dual stories of our dedication and our age. 

Training was essential to success and I am so grateful to Hottie for not only allowing me the time to train but for encouraging me to do so. My training reached a point where a three and a half hour ride was no longer considered a long ride.  My four to six hour rides laid a foundation to allow my body to complete the ridiculous days we enjoyed in Italy. 

 Hottie and (An)Drew

Six hundred and fifty kilometers means little but the fact I climbed 18,000 meters does put the trip into perspective.   For you that still trade in old money that is just under sixty thousand feet of climbing in seven rides (two of which would have been longer but were cut short by rain).

In addition to the physical training knowing the daily routine and preparing accordingly helped me get into the new rhythm quickly.  Items such as having a travel fan to dry things out and a bringing my own clothesline and stuff sacks for my wanbags meant there was less to worry about day in and day out.  

The story goes that in order to save his legs Bernard Hinault made people carry him upstairs in a chair during one of his Tour de France campaigns.  This may be fact or it may be legend but it does illustrate the simple fact that anything that can reduce your physical or mental stress during one of these undertakings is a good thing.  

The group was pretty special.  During the trip I rode a lot with El Jefe’ and KB and Marco and The Cheetah.  I also logged miles with Coz and Lutz and Jens.  I sucked Brad’s when as long as I could and descended with Einmotron, McWoodie and Whiplaesch buffered by a fast moving and gap closing monster known as El Jefe’.  Arndt rode with us a bit before politely dropping us when the road turned upward.  If I had his strength I would do the same thing. I enjoying everyone I rode with and the group didn’t have any friction or outcasts or cliques.  It was as if we were all lifelong buddies.

The biggest disappointment I had was not being able to ride alongside Horst.  There are three reasons for this.  One is that Horst is fast and I am not. The second is that the timing just didn’t work out on the day we rode into the rain.  The third and worst reason is that Horst caught a bug and was sick for most of the trip.  More than once Horst shot a long hard look at a certain man among us as the source of his virus and he may be right and he may be wrong - but regardless I am truly sad he didn’t get to ride with us as much as he and we would have liked. The plan was to have a group trip and for him to be part of the group. 

Along the lines of a group trip we are shooting to host Horst and our newfound fast German friends for some serious gravel riding in the future.  Stay tuned as that develops.

Okay back to the topic at hand which is lessons learned.  Enough with the generalizations on training.  On to specifics……

Bring the extra brake pads.  I started with a fresh set and in three days they were shot.  On those wet, gritty descents I could almost watch my pads wear down.  60,000 feet of climbing meant 60,000 feet of descending.  Yeah, I should have known better.

I don’t know how Brawny Paper Towels managed to be the exclusive toilet paper supplier to Italy and Germany but they did.  You don’t realize how coddled we are as Americans until you find yourself in a far off land praying you don’t get splinters from your TP.  Kind of a non-cycling variation to “Shut up legs!”

Gear as low as you can and even so you will crave lower.  I rode a 34:36 as my lowest gear.  El Jefe’ was on a tricked out 34:40 and I was jealous.   If he had an even lower gear he would have used it.

The top tube bag was awesome and it contributed to my success.  It was easier to eat and so I am sure I ate more on the bike. 

The blinking lights were good and it helped to be seen by cars and motos behind and ahead of me.

The charging tower was good and absolutely necessary with the plethora of electronics we each had.

My multi-pronged recovery regiment seemed to work. I used compression, recovery drink, electrolytes, water bottle leg massage, stretching and hydration and I’m not sure which aspect(s) worked and what was a waste but the net result was it worked and I will repeat it all next time.

If I were to do it again I think I would take my SEVEN and leave the coupled bike.  It would cost me more in cash but I think the lighter weight, better performance on the road and the convenience of not having to basically build a bike whilst jet-lagged and then tear it down again when ride weary might be worth the extra money. 

In the future I would take enough bibs that if I needed to go all the way to the rest day without washing I could.  With the rain and humidity the bibs took a couple days to dry and so I always had two pairs airing out in the hotel.  Bidness side out of course…….

Dr Bronners soap was a handy thing to have. I used it to wash bike clothes and get bike grease off my shirt and shorts.  It was also good for really cleaning those areas where you put chamois cream.  You never know what is in that hotel soap.

My lotions and potions were all effective:

Jack Black Sunscreen was terrific.

Morgan Blue Solid Chamois Cream is a flak jacket for your ass

Buttonhole remains the premier all-around chamois cream

Shea butter with Tea Tree Oil is a remedy for vacation-threatening skin damage

King of Shaves is the best stuff ever for shaving your face with a blade

A Nuun Tablet is a double bonus: electrolytes plus you drink more

By staying Z1-3 I can go all day; day after day.  Z4 and Z5 are like being above 27,000 feet on Everest, you are only making withdrawals and are no longer making deposits.   

“The same only bigger” was a good model.  That is to say; don’t think you have to do everything different because it is Europe and the climbs are longer, steeper and higher. We relied on our experience riding in the rain and adapting to changing weather.  I used the same clothing I have been using for months and years.  In fact my BG gloves, Assos bibs, sunglasses and Craft base layer made the trip with me in 2012 and were back in action this time.

I am a lucky man.  My training took me to the ragged edge of my physical limits but I made it.  So many of our group had physical challenges during the trip ranging from fatigue to sore knees, claves, quads and arches, all the way to life-threatening saddle sores. I was not unscathed and there were days I had an ice bag on my knee.  Nevertheless I count myself as lucky to have gone and partaken of this cyclists dream trip.

Final Lesson Learned is aimed at El Chefe and Big John.  If you get the chance; take it.  Life goes on with or without your daily attention.

DolDay2 Dobbiaco to Cortina

Welcome to the Dolomites

Sometime during the night the rain let up.  Grey skies reminded us that the rain was likely to return but we gladly accepted the dry morning.   After breakfast we rolled out this day we were joined by Horst on the bike.  We zipped out of town and quickly broke into groups again.

And we're off !!

We were braced for rain and dressed accordingly.  Early on the climbing and lack of rain caused me to heat up quickly.  I got chilled but thankfully the clouds began to thin and I warmed up.

Marco climbing

Descending on dry pavement was a thrill we hadn’t enjoyed the first day.  I joked that Saint D’ Antonio was the patron saint of descending.  We began to learn how to manage the Dolomite spaghetti noodle switchback road descents.  As you approach a corner in the drops you look over your shoulder to see if there is any traffic coming up the road that might reach you before you are well past the corner.  If the road is clear you set up wide, hit the apex and take as much road as you need when you exit.

Just like Washington; If you like green, you better like rain

The sun finally comes out and looking up the road we find the wan and Uli with food awaiting.   The remaining climb is to the top of Tre Cimi d’Lavaredo the only out and back of the trip. It is steep and so I shed all the weight I can. The sunshine further motivates me to go light.

One of several villages we rolled through

The climb starts off nicely but soon the clouds move in.  

Before the deluge......

The grade picks up and it starts to rain.  The murderers pass me on their way down and offer sarcastic encouragement. “It never gets steeper than eighteen percent. Well it does but only for a little bit.”  The riders descending are all wearing rain jackets and they are flying downhill.

This translates roughly into, "You're mine now bitch"

The grade is steady at twelve percent and I don’t feel any hint of cramping but I am working hard as the road switchbacks again and again.  It starts to rain lightly and my lack of warm clothing makes the cold rain feel even colder. 

I still have a few hundred meters of climbing and the mountains are totally socked in.  The riders coming down are wearing rain gear and look miserable.  Their wheels are kicking up rooster tails on the wet pave’.  I keep cranking.  I don’t have a choice.  If I want to continue I have to ride to the top and if I want to bail I still have to ride to the top. I have three hundred meters to go and the rain turns to hail.  There is a wan at the top with my wan bag and I start to wish the bag had more clothing than it actually contains.

As I near the crest I can see Coz waving me in.  He was kind enough to skip this part in favor of driving the support wan.  Arndt’s knee was acting up and he had joined Coz and was warmish and dryish in the front seat of the wan.

Hail on my leg.  Yeah not much now, but it was just ramping up

By now the hail was pounding down.  I knew Marco was behind me and he must be suffering more than me.  I handed Coz the bike and jumped in the wan.  The hail was beginning to form into slush on the road and descending through such muck would not only be hellish it would be foolhardy.  I would gladly accept a wan ride down from the summit.  It was a bit too early in the trip for type two fun.

Soon enough Marco showed up and he was likewise frozen and shared my enthusiasm for calling his day done.  As Arndt and Coz handed wheels and the bikes into the wan the hail accumulated half an inch thick on the floor of the wan through the open door.

The speed at which the ride went from sunshine and roses to hail and hypothermia was not lost on me.  We were nearly seven thousand feet above sea level and the Dolomites are massive enough to make their own weather.

How did you spend your summer vacation Davo?

As the wan drove downhill we spied some riders still climbing with bare legs glowing bright red from being pelted with hail. 

We arrived at the hotel and repeated the post ride routine that was already second nature.

For the enlightenment of my readers here is the daily schedule:

Breakfast is at seven thirty so if I am not already up my alarm goes up at seven.  This thirty minutes is to pound down some water to help digestion and stage the gear for the day.  This not only includes clothing that I will wear but what I will have in my two wan bag. 

The wan bags contain clothing (sleeves, vest, knee warmers, rain jacket, perhaps a different base layer, bars, shot bloks, nuun tablets, endurolytes, sunscreen, chamois cream, a plastic bag for wet items I may swap for dry items.

In addition to the clothes I will ride in I need to stage my water bottles, camera, GoPro, Garmin, phone and waterproof case, lip screen, bars, shot bloks and chamois cream etc.

Before heading down to breakfast I check to see if the clothes I washed post ride yesterday have dried or if they are still damp.

Like lost souls we gather outside the dining area and await the signal to attack the coffee and breakfast.  When given the nod we pile plates with eggs, breads, rolls, and if we dare meats and cheeses.  We fill bowls with muesli, fruit and yogurt.  We fill and refill coffee cups.  When we finish our plates and bowls we go back for more. 

Based on the route difficulty and weather and our individual health we choose our route for the day and then we scurry back to our rooms.

After brushing teeth we don our costumes, pack our stuff and stagger downstairs to check out and find our bikes.  We drop our luggage and wan bags where they belong and plug in water bottles and fire up the electronics that will guide our riding.

Usually a bit before nine we group up and ride off.  We ride and eat and ride and eat and ride until we reach the hotel. 

We arrive at our destination hotel between four and six.  There is a table with recovery food on it and the big wan with our luggage.

This is a rushed time when we try to manage multiple high priorities.  One should quickly A) Get out of the hygienically hazardous bike shorts that have now been on for nine hours B) Get some recovery food – Protein and Carbs – inside you quickly C) Complete any bike maintenance such as lubing the chain and addressing that clicking sound that appeared three hours ago D) Sit your tired ass down E) Check into the hotel and make your meal selection before someone else makes it for you.

When you do make it to your room you quickly shower and then it is time to relax.  However, you don’t have time to relax because you have to wash the clothes you wore today and hang them out to dry.  All the time you are chugging down water to help your recovery.

Dry my lovely clothing Dry !!!

One of the signs of the times was all of the equipment that needed to be recharged daily.  When the octopus was set up you just let the power flow.

About the time you finish hanging the clothes you just washed as well as any clothes that didn’t get completely dry last night it is time for dinner.

At first I thought this was some kind of Toilet sidecar.  Sort of like a tandem for pooping.

KB sent me this image.  It turns out these are for washing your bottles.

Dinner most nights starts at seven thirty and ends just shy of ten.  During dinner the next day’s route and weather are discussed as well as the stories of the day’s adventure.

After dinner we often went for a short walk.  This was really a chance to get in some digestion in advance of getting horizontal.   During the walk we stop and stretch and lean and groan.  We are not young men and this is a young man’s game.

When we get back to our rooms we lay out the gear for the next day and check email using the typically poor wireless network.  Often there isn’t a lot of conversation as we are tired and as soon as we have done whatever needs to be done we bid farewell and crash into our pillows.

That my friends is a day in the life.  If it sounds like the days are hard I would prefer you use the term “challenging.”  If it sounds like misery I can assure you that while it was tough, it was wonderful as well.  We knew what we were getting into and while I couldn’t do this for weeks on end, the challenge only enhances the satisfaction.