Saturday, June 30: A very long bike ride

To further prepare for this summer's attempt to bike New Hampshire's Kangamaugus Highway, I took advantage of a drive out to Portsmouth this morning to spent most of the afternoon biking all the way back home.

Portsmouth is on the coast, and Bedford (where I roister) is in the Merrimack Valley, about 50 miles inland via minor highways and lightly traveled back roads. So, after visiting a friend for breakfast and seeing my wife drive off in my car, I started the long pedal home. (Sorry, no pictures, other than those I could find online.)

In my favor: high clouds moving in (cutting the sun's intensity) and a summer day that turned out to be a lot drier than expected. Humidity, which was supposed to be awful, was only in the 30 to 40 percent range. Nice!

Not in my favor: a persistent westerly headwind for nearly the entire ride, temps that still climbed into the 90s, and a shade pattern that forced me to ride on the wrong side of roads (heading into traffic) for much of the journey.

Blast-off time in Portsmouth was 12:10 p.m., with the route taking me out of town on Islington Street, then Route 33 over Interstate 95 and through heavy traffic for an air show at the Pease Tradeport. (Sign at florist: WELCOME BLUE ANGLES!)

Portsmouth, the first of 10 communities on today's excursion, quickly gave way to Greenland and then Stratham as Route 33 wound through rolling country, blessed with generous breakdown lanes but cursed with that westerly headwind, which kicked up pretty good during this stretch.

I like to travel light, so my means of staying hydrated is to stop at convenience stores and guzzle water and the occasional Gatorade. I know these roads pretty well, and planned my first stop to be a store on Route 33 in Stratham that I've patronized since my days of teaching at the local tech college not far away. Good thing, too, as I was already feeling depleted, and on a day like this, the time to drink is before you're thirsty.

But as I neared the store on Route 33, I realized that I'd actually be turning onto Squamscott Road and heading for the town of Newfields before I hit my chosen store. Ooops! So when would the next store be? I didn't think Newfields had one, meaning I wouldn't get anything until Epping, probably 10 miles away. Could I make it?

I didn't have to find out because, as things turned out, the Newfields Village Store was not far away, and so it became my first pit stop.

The Newfields Village Store at a different time of year.

I then headed out on quiet Route 87 towards Epping, looking for Mast Road, which would bring me over to Route 27. New road signs made it easy to locate; I recall not long ago missing it entirely on a scouting drive.

At this point the towns are spread pretty evenly apart: about eight miles each, meaning Gained Route 27 and found Epping came surprisingly fast. Stopped at Shell station to finish rest of water from Newfields. Good ride through to Raymond, which I reached by 2 p.m. and where the temperature was just 80 degrees, according the sign outside Walgreen's. Stopped again, this time for lemonade and water.

The next segment was the toughest part of the ride: extended climbs on Route 27 into Candia, mostly without shade, as the road here was for years the main highway to the seacoast, and so it's wide. Took a lot out of me, and the only part of the ride where I felt I might not make it.

The final stop.

But I did, making a last water stop at Candia House of Pizza before tackling final big hills on Route 27 into Hooksett to reach the high point of the ride, which marks the entry into the Merrimack River valley. (At least I think it does. Somebody get me a topo map!) Conditions were so dry you could see a large mountain on the horizon, maybe 60 miles away. I thought it was Mount Monadnock but a later map glance showed it couldn't be, as I was looking northwest and Monadnock would be clear to the west. Maybe Pat's Peak in Henniker?

Route 27 at this point is a truly quiet back road, but had recently been repaved from Candia almost all the way through Hooksett. Plus: a wonderfully smooth and problem-free riding surface. Minus: a stingy shoulder that dropped off as much as two inches at some points. (If that doesn't sound like much, try riding a bike.)

I was still riding on the wrong side of the road for the shade, and sure enough, it finally happened: in the middle of a string of oncoming vehicles passing me by, some joker in a truck swerved right at me, as if I wasn't there at all. I saw it coming, yelled, but had no choice to bail off the road surface and onto a patch of gravel. Luckily, I had enough speed for the bike to get over this rough area without spilling, and a flat shoulder just ahead quickly allowed me to regain the road.

After checking to make sure the wheels were still in true, I began to enjoy my reward: a long series of downhills in Hooksett that take you to the floor of the Merrimack River valley. By the time I crossed Route 3 and got onto River Road through Southern New Hampshire University, I was feeling spent.

But I was now in Manchester and on familiar turf, crossing the river on the Bridge Street Bridge downtown. How amazing to have cycled through so much rural countryside only to stumble onto this city! (Maybe it was the exhaustion, but I somehow felt a sense of wonder at it all.)

The final leg into Bedford, the same route I take to and from work all the time, was a lark. After being on the road since 12:10 p.m., I zipped up my own driveway at 4:17 p.m., meaning it took 4 hours and 7 minutes to cover about 50 miles. (50.2 according to Google Maps.)

At that rate, I should be able to do the Kanc both ways in about six or seven hours, give or take.

Personal inventory: sore butt (to be expected), some sunburn (despite sunscreen), but otherwise okay. Not bad for the longest ride I've done in a long time, and a good prelude to tackling the Kanc later this season.

Saturday, June 23: Northfield (#136)

Well, that was the best smelling race I've been in so far.

I speak of the "Aurlow Stanley Memorial Dare 5K" in Northfield, N.H., which I ran this morning when the day was much, much younger.

The smell, specifically, was the smoky scent of a wood fire being started in a stone barbecue pit near where I parked, under a canopy of tall pines that makes up Northfield's town recreation area. The property's name is, straight-forwardly enough, Northfield Pines.

The pines themselves are truly enormous:


The fire and the food vendors and souvenir tents were all part of some kind of festival -- for what I never exactly found out. Unusual items being set out next to a van selling CHEESECAKE created this curious still life of inflatable aliens and rubber ducks:


But the day's events included a 5K race, and that's what brought me to town.

It was a good morning for a race -- the first reasonable temperatures after a three-day stretch that brought humidity and highs in the upper 90s to our part of the world. But this morning dawned refreshingly cool and dry, so off I sped to Northfield for the 8 a.m. start.

One noteable aspect of today's race was how easy it was to find. I have a bad habit of cutting it pretty close with races, and often find myself bombing along back roads trying to find some obscure town rec area with 15 minutes to go before a race starts.

Not in Northfield: You swing off Interstate 93 at Exit 19 and there it is! It could not have been more convenient, and one consequence of this was that I had a whole half-hour to register ($20), stretch & warm up, and smell the wood smoke. Here's everyone milling about the registration area:

The 5K race itself, an out-and-back on local roads, began with a couple of mild hills, then took us under I-93 and into rolling countryside. Although it was still early morning, the summer heat was already building in the sunny spots.

A gradual ascent led to the turn-around spot, which consisted of a murderous up-and-down loop which quickly gains significant altitude, thens lose it just as fast. Ouch!

I felt kinda tired throughout the whole thing, and could tell early on it wasn't going to be anything like a PR. During the last mile, I became so separated from other runners ahead and behind me (mostly walkers) that it was almost not like a race at all, but just a private run. I almost wanted to take a detour to explore "The Memorial Arch of Tilton," some kind of large cemetery monument that we passed by but I couldn't see from the road.

The Memorial Arch: erected in 1882, the keystone contains a time capsule whose contents include "gold and silver coins." Don't get any ideas...

I'd never heard of it, but later research found it to be, yes, a big granite arch erected in the 19th century by one Charles Tilton, a local resident. Inspired by a trip to Rome, Tilton decided to erect an arch for peace (rather than war) in his hometown, and did just that, sparing no expense. It was added to the U.S. National Register of Historic Places in 1980 and rehabbed shortly thereafter.

Tilton built his arch for the ages, but any thoughts of immortality were scattered by the next landmark down the road: a rather large home for handicapped senior citizens.

The last stretch before the finish was a nice shaded downhill alongside the same park, right through the woodsmoke again. It was marred somewhat, however, but a middle-aged woman who had finished the race but had taken it upon herself to loudly criticize the technique of all those making their final dash.

"Loosen up" she screamed at me. "Relax! And open up that stride! Open it up!"

Geez, the last thing I expected this morning was a flashback to high school gym class, but that's what I got. I appreciated her concern for my running style, but, really, there's a time and a place.

Because she was near my parked car, I got to hear her comments for the next 15 minutes or so. At one point, she bellowed her "encouragement" to runners while lying on her back along the road and stretching her legs against a fence.

I didn't stick around, taking advantage of the convenient highway exit to make a quick get-away. The Memorial Arch of Tilton will have to wait for another time...

The stats: finished in a rather slow 31:16, or 10:04 pace. 78 out of 123.

Update: Northfield, state runs, tri-athalons, oh my!

Okay, let me try to organize my head about what's coming up. There's a lot!

But it's a good thing, I think, because I'm currently deep in the midst of helping an aging parent in post-fall recovery as well as placement in assisted living. I gladly do this, but it can be a bit wearing. So being sure to make time to be active is especially important if I'm going to keep my sanity and not fall into bad habits such as stress eating or lack of sleep.

So what's coming up? Well, I have a town run scheduled for this Saturday (June 23) in Northfield, which will bring me to #136. And I'd like to do one more longish run in the "50 states" campaign, just to make up for not getting one on the books in May. Perhaps Rhode Island next week?

And then there's my first-ever triathalon, set for Saturday, July 14 in Surry, N.H. It's a .25-mile swim, an 8-mile bike ride, then a 5K run. think I have the bike/run part nailed, but swimming? Swimming? Er, let's see.

I suppose I could just show up and flail my way through the quarter-mile without drowning. Even so, better judgment says I should make time to swim somewhere a few times prior to engaging in this.

So one plan is to take the bike on a long ride out to Harrisville, N.H., a community to the west of here that has a nice public beach. A 40-mile bike ride is probably not the best way to precede a swim, but at least I'll get in some good exercise that day.

Not sure when that'll happen but perhaps the 4th of July, which is a Wednesday this year and our business is closed. I don't have any silent film screenings on the weekends before or after the holiday, so there should be time. We'll see.

And then there's my goal of biking the entire 34-mile length of New Hampshire's Kancamaugus Highway, both ways, sometime this summer. I've been riding more and more, to the point where the tires on my Giant Defy road bike are getting worn down pretty good, so there's hope on that one. Sometime in late July/early August, on a day when the weather's not too dodgy up in the White Mountains. We'll see.

And wait! Speaking of the Whites, I'd like to make progress on getting to the summit of all 48 peaks that are 4,000 feet or higher. This was originally an attempt to get one of our dogs, Zahnna, to all 48 summits, but in the past year she's slowed down considerably and shows signs of hip trouble. So, alas, she may have to call it quits at #30, with 18 still to go.

Well, maybe. In the past week, she's been getting some new food supplement that seems to have perked her up for action, so perhaps it's time to hit the trail for some trial hikes. Not today, though, as it's nearly 6 p.m. and still well above 90 degrees. Maybe this weekend. (If I can suddenly find a spare 12 hours somewhere.)

So there's no shortage of options to stay active this season. It's a matter of staying organized, prioritizing, and also not getting injured. :)

State No. 4: Maryland, June 9, 2012

The hand-drawn not-to-scale semi-accurate route map that I carried with me.

State #4: Maryland

A film screening in Maryland was the excuse for completing State #4 in my evolving "Run a Big Run in All 50 States" quest. And the run, on Saturday, June 9, was a tricky one due to timing and weather.

The set-up: On 3 p.m. that day, the American Film Institute in Silver Spring, Maryland was premiering a new score for 'The Wind' (1928) by Andrew Simpson, a silent film acquaintance of mine. And I was there!

However, The only real window for a long run was mid-day prior to the screening. So I talked the front desk clerk at the local Days Inn to letting me get a room way before the usual 3 p.m. check-in time.

And so, at 12:05 p.m., I stepped out onto the streets of Silver Spring for an eight-mile journey, more or less. I usually try to shoot for some landmark to give these runs a shape and purpose, and also to help me navigate an unfamiliar area. In this case, it was Interstate 495, the "Beltway," the highway that encircles the D.C. area about six miles out.

My aim: to break out and get beyond the beltway!

Unfortunately, it was already about 90 degrees, and heading higher thanks to a blazing sun. With moderate weather at home in New Hampshire, I hadn't yet gotten used to summer heat, but thought I could handle it. On the plus side, there was a breeze, it wasn't too humid, and I had picked a route that offered the prospect of a lot of shade.

So starting from the Days Inn on 13th Street (right on the D.C. border with Maryland), the run was downhill for the first two miles. On Philadelphia, I passed houses with elaborate gardens, and on Maple, large apartment complexes. My first goal: something called the Sligo Creek Trail, which would take me about two miles to reach.

Okay, I thought -- a shaded respite from traffic hassles and other distractions. Well, yes, but after a while that gets boring. It wasn't bad, however, even as the paved foot-and-bike path zigzagged back and forth across the creek, making use of so many bridges that I lost count. (Hmmm, were federal dollars used in building this? Did some bridge money need to get used up?)

After three miles, I reached my first major decision. Bail from the trail at Colesville Road and head back to the hotel? Or keep at it until I hit I-495? My feet were sore (my running shoes are shot), the heat was building, and I didn't know what time it was, but I figured I'd go for I-495, at least to touch it and turn around.

And so I did, and before long I was hearing the rumble of truck engines and the hiss of tires on pavement. But it still took quite awhile before the trail reached the highway, which it passed underneath, coming out into a sunny shadeless field. I made it! Escape from the Beltway!

I decided then that I felt strong enough to keep going rather than turn around, turning left at a hospital and then going west until hitting Route 97, which would take me back to Silver Spring.

And then the shade stopped. And then the hills started. And I started to think I might be in trouble, both from the heat and the time.

It took an awfully long time to hit Route 97 (also called "Georgia Avenue"), and when I did, I found it to be a major commercial artery clogged with traffic at the approaches to its intersection with I-495, which loomed just ahead. With the sun blamming down, I maneuvered my way across four separate busy on-ramps and back under the Beltway, with traffic shimmering in the heat.

After that, I hit a stretch with some gas stations, and so looked for one where I might get some water. The convenience store I picked was air-conditioned (Hallelujah!), and also quite busy, so no one seemed to care when I took a large soda cup and filled it with water from the drink dispenser. I drank it slowly, feeling the heat radiate off me into the cool air, and then filled it again before heading back out in the heat.

I walked some more, finishing the water, and then began running again, not really knowing how far I still had to go and with no idea if I would actually make it to the theater by 3 p.m. Eventually I arrived in downtown Silver Spring (passing right by the AFI theater!), where I clock told me it was only 1:40 p.m. Whew!

By then, my feet felt like someone had been hitting them with a ball peen hammer, so I transitioned back to walk for the remaining half-mile to the Days Inn. Knowing that I'd made it back it time, it actually felt quite exciting to make that last turn onto 13th Street, knowing I'd accomplished what I set out to do.

Time in: 1:54 p.m. So that's 1 hour, 49 minutes to run a total of 8.1 miles, at least according to Google Maps. So four down, and only 46 more to go. Piece of cake, although I'm not sure how many mid-day runs in 90+ degree heat I'll be tackling. :)

This weekend: State #4 (Maryland) out of 50

This weekend I head off to Silver Spring, Maryland for the premiere of a new score for the silent film 'The Wind' (1928), put together by a fellow accompanist and composer, Andrew Simpson. And I'll use the occasion to do a 90-minute run through the suburbs of Washington, D.C., thus adding Maryland to the list of states in which I'm completed a major run. (For me, "major" is anything 90 minutes or longer.)

Right now, the weather is looking hot, with Saturday's highs expected to be in the 90s. So we'll see how I do.

I'm a little disappointed because May came and went without adding a state to the list -- the first time since I launched this quest. Well, that's what happens when you have too much going on. I'll try to add one of the close-by states in the next couple of weeks (in addition to Maryland), which would make June a two-state month.

Massachusetts, here I come!

Sunday, June 3: Effingham (#134) and Freedom (#135)

Today's scheduled 5K up in Effingham was cancelled, which I only found out via a note on the elementary school door after driving 90 minutes to get there. But that didn't stop me from claiming the town and neighboring Freedom as well.

Yes, today marked a new stage in my quest to run a 5K or better in every city, town, or unincorporated place in New Hampshire: my very first "Do-It-Yourself Double 5K" in which I ran 3.1 miles back-to-back on either side the border between two towns, or a 5K in each of them.

I wasn't planning to do this today, but the cancelled race kinda forced my hand, or feet. I don't know why the race was cancelled, but if it was because of the weather, that would have been ironic, as conditions were perfect for a long slog: overcast, cool, and with a slight mist coming down. (I just read where the Saco River in nearby Conway did reach flood stage on Sunday morning, so maybe that has something to do with it.)

Pulling out of the empty Effingham Elementary School parking lot, I resolved to stage my first "Do-It-Yourself" 5K, in which I run the distance, but not part of an official race. After running in 133 cities and towns, this was bound to happen: at some point, you run out of towns that hold races, even once in awhile. (I was surprised to find one scheduled for Effingham, actually!)

So, without really planning, it was time to try out my plan for staging an impromptu do-it-yourself race. Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera with me, so word pictures will have to suffice.

A quick check of the map showed that not only could I bag Effingham, but also neighboring Freedom. I just had to find a spot on the town line between the two communities, then drive 1.6 miles into each town (just over half a 5K), finding a turn-around landmark in each case.

Then, starting at the border, I would run 1.6 miles into one town to the first turn-around spot, then turn around and go back, making for the first 5K. Then I'd cross the border into the other town, run 1.6 miles to the second turn-around spot, then turn around and go back. Voila! Two 5Ks in two towns.

To do this, I followed Route 25 east to the Maine border, at first because I was looking for a bathroom and thought I'd find one there. (No luck.) But in doing so, I spied a perfect staging point for my back-to-back 5Ks: just off Route 25, an old box girder bridge over the Ossippee River, which marked the border between Effingham and Freedom.

Right next to the bridge was a little dirt parking area, perfect for the operation. So, to measure off the distance, I set my odometer's trip meter at 0.0 and drove into Effingham. The road quickly turned from paved to dirt, and then headed ruler-straight ahead (a rare thing for a dirt road) through a marshy wilderness area for nearly a full mile.

It then went back to pavement and hit Route 153, a minor state highway. To the left was a steep upgrade, so I headed right. (There are advantages to choosing your own route.) The car's odomoter hit 1.6 miles exactly at a yellow mailbox, so I had my landmark. I then made a U-turn to head back to the start, crossing the bridge into Freedom and resetting the trip meter back to 0.0.

Almost immediately, I was on Route 25, a fairly two-lane busy highway connecting Portland, Maine with New Hampshire's Lakes Region. Heading east for about a half-mile put me on much quieter Old Portland Road, a modest route full of broken pavement and presumably bypassed long ago by the highway.

In a series of modest hills, the road gained some altitude, then passed by a trio of classic hilltop New Hampshire farmhouses overlooking open meadows to the south. It then dropped off into a gully, the bottom of which was exactly 1.6 miles from the bridge, thus marking my turn-around point. So I turned around and headed back to actually start running.

How weird to park the station wagon on a quiet back road, stretch, put on my wet running shoes (yesterday's run left them soaked) but find they weren't really damp anymore at all), lock the car, and then just start running. None of the excitement of the starting line, none of the chatter, no one singing the national anthem or thanking the sponsors. It really was a "do-it-yourself" race, with emphasis on "yourself." Because I don't wear a watch, I just waited for the clock on my dashboard to turn to 10:28 a.m., and off I went.

The solitude was underscored by the long straight stretch of dirt road through a marshy wilderness preserve, during which I saw not a single vehicle. (Same on the way back, except for a sole Chevy pick-up which appeared just as I was rounding the last turn to reach my car.) My right achilles tendon was acting up a bit even at the start, so I was concentrating on that rather than the landscape around me, but it sure was lonely and wet. Really wet—for most of the route, the swamp's water table was high enough to be lapping at the edges of the dirt road.

Turning around at the yellow mailbox put me at the quarter mark, and I felt stronger on the way back. Because I was by myself, I could indulge in behavior that wouldn't be possible during a race. I could have brought one or two dogs along with me, for example, but just didn't have them this time. Also, I was able to test how far away from my car my key fob can be and still work. (Answer: very far, like 3/10 of a mile.)

At the car, I opened the now-unlocked front door and saw the time: 11:03! That means it took 35 minutes for me to run a 5K? Even allowing for a little extra distance, that's still a pretty lousy time for me, especially on such a cool day. Just shows you how important it is to be in a race to stay motivated to push yourself. (I think the achilles tendon thing was a factor as well, though it seemed to stop bothering me after awhile.)

Okay, then across the bridge and into Freedom. Just to illustrate how close the Maine border I was, the stretch of Route 25 I ran on was between the state line and the "Welcome / Bienvenue to New Hampshire" sign. I scooted along the highway until turning with relief onto quiet Old Portland Road, which offered only a handful of vehicles during my time on its crinkum-crankum pavement. Still, I felt strong as I powered up the grades, and even stronger coming down, which sometimes happens after four or five miles. Although my feet were starting to feel it, the rest of me seemed to be really strong in the second half.

By the time I got back the highway, the sky seemed to be lightening. I picked up the pace for a quick finish, sprinting down the mini-slope before the bridge and the crossing the border/finish line to the cheers of a completely imaginary crowd. Any cheers would have been drowned out by the Ossipee River below, which was absolutely raging after recent heavy rains.

So imagine my disappointment when the dashboard clock read 11:41 a.m. Sheesh, 38 minutes! Either I measured the distance incorrectly (not likely, given the simplicity of the operation), or I really do need the atmosphere and competition of an actual race to achieve a respectful time.

But that was that. No post-race water (except what I had in the car), no cheering on the slow-pokes unfortunate enough to come in after me, no checking the school gym wall for print-outs of finishing times. Just change my shirt into something dry, towel off my hair, hop in the car, and go.

And that's it. Towns #134 (Effingham) and #135 (Freedom) completed, and the unexpected start of a new phase of my quest. But it's about time, as I can't wait much longer for any communities if I'm to have hope of finishing my quest by the self-imposed deadline of May 14, 2016.