I owe an apology to all of you that wait for each enticing post with the same enthusiasm as fans of Harry Potter and the iPad, but a new job has kept my focus in another dimension rather then here. Well it seems like an eternity since our taint, leg and lung crushing ride to Hunter Mountain but we have not been idle here at the NECS/MRC. In fact the troops have been revving up the engines for our spring classic - Tour of the Battenkill - a 100k race with numerous sections of dirt roads (hey the early pioneers in America couldn't afford the Pave of their Euro counterparts and thus made do with dirt pounded to hardness of asphalt).
With a 9:00 roll out things were getting tense in the Top Chef FJ as the incredible thing (iPhone) was not proving to be the most adept at locating the parking lot. Arriving, we were greeted to cheers from the 13 strong contingent that it was a navigational error and not Alzheimer's that had caused the 2 senior citizens of the ride to be late for the party, and oh what a party-o-pain Young O'Connell and Obamador had cooked up for the group.
Setting off through town and inflicting less fear into the locals then the Hells Angels
but more then a pack of kids on their Big Wheels
as we plunged down to the river's edge where everyone stopped (since we would be riding through the West Point military academy) and unholstered our "weapons" and fired off the MRC version of a 21 gun salute.
This would prove to be the last feel good moment for quite some time as we remounted and immediately hit the climbs of sheer destruction. Young O'Connell was looking to peak for Battenkill and the climbs he planned to serve up we the closest (and from what I could recall from the last Battenkill a lot harder) in leg shattering and lung busting departments. It was spring time and the summit guppies were out in full force and at the summit we opened our personal spinal taps and whipped up some oh so good lactic acid milk shakes for good measure. A fast descent of the backside, through a tunnel of total darkness and it was up the backside of 9w where evidence of misguided youth lay in the gutter of the road.
And so hard was the pace being set by Young O'Connell and Obmaador that not a single one of the UN translators (and there were many) paused to even consider adding this fine Venetian glass translator to their jersey pockets. There was a brief moment of consideration to turn back and save the lost child but the prospect of a multi mile descent amongst the cars at 50 mph was too appealing to resist. With brake pads reaching temps only experienced by Icarus on his flight to the sun we finally reached the very bottom and faced the summit climb of Bear Mountain. Here the group shattered as the high speed ascendors took time to empty out and minimize climbing weight while the shell shocked clan started the grind. Once again it was Young O'Connell and Obamador ripping up the asphalt and spirits of the pack, arriving at the summit to scout out this choice location for a group shot.
Bear Mountain can put the hurt on going up but the reward coming back down is one of the best in the region. Over the series of high speed sweepers C-Dubbs put all of the techniques Braveheart revealed on the Hunter ride to good use and raced Paul LeTour to the bottom. Paul noted that on the descent the Enve 65 carbon rear wheel on the IF revealed my every intention when dropping into bigger gear for the sprint.
but more then a pack of kids on their Big Wheels
as we plunged down to the river's edge where everyone stopped (since we would be riding through the West Point military academy) and unholstered our "weapons" and fired off the MRC version of a 21 gun salute.
This would prove to be the last feel good moment for quite some time as we remounted and immediately hit the climbs of sheer destruction. Young O'Connell was looking to peak for Battenkill and the climbs he planned to serve up we the closest (and from what I could recall from the last Battenkill a lot harder) in leg shattering and lung busting departments. It was spring time and the summit guppies were out in full force and at the summit we opened our personal spinal taps and whipped up some oh so good lactic acid milk shakes for good measure. A fast descent of the backside, through a tunnel of total darkness and it was up the backside of 9w where evidence of misguided youth lay in the gutter of the road.
And so hard was the pace being set by Young O'Connell and Obmaador that not a single one of the UN translators (and there were many) paused to even consider adding this fine Venetian glass translator to their jersey pockets. There was a brief moment of consideration to turn back and save the lost child but the prospect of a multi mile descent amongst the cars at 50 mph was too appealing to resist. With brake pads reaching temps only experienced by Icarus on his flight to the sun we finally reached the very bottom and faced the summit climb of Bear Mountain. Here the group shattered as the high speed ascendors took time to empty out and minimize climbing weight while the shell shocked clan started the grind. Once again it was Young O'Connell and Obamador ripping up the asphalt and spirits of the pack, arriving at the summit to scout out this choice location for a group shot.
Bear Mountain can put the hurt on going up but the reward coming back down is one of the best in the region. Over the series of high speed sweepers C-Dubbs put all of the techniques Braveheart revealed on the Hunter ride to good use and raced Paul LeTour to the bottom. Paul noted that on the descent the Enve 65 carbon rear wheel on the IF revealed my every intention when dropping into bigger gear for the sprint.
Demoralized and brow beaten after 3 big climbs we made the turn for home only to learn that YO'C and Obamador were in the mood to dole out pain like candy on Halloween and we were off on another mind numbing ascent. Finally at the top a few of the troops failed to show after we had finished our lactic acid shakes so the master's of pain were sent back down the hill to drag home the wounded.
As the crow flies we were only a few miles from the finish but this was predicated on taking the West Point short cut and with a US Army half marathon underway for the grunts it took a lot of pleading with the state troopers and military police to let us use the course to get home and stave off the vultures circling at the summit of the 9W climb that was our only other option. Rolling into the parking lot, taints totally annihilated and spirits broken we headed for burgers and fine yeasty malted beverages only to discover the beer supply was tapped out!
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