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.

The Great Memorial Day Bike Ride

The New Boston (N.H.) Town Gazebo.

As this whole blog might indicate, I'm big on ritual. And just this past weekend (a long one, by virtue of the U.S. holiday of Memorial Day, which is celebrated on the last Monday of each May), I realized that I have another one going.

Let's call it "The Great Memorial Day Bike Ride." What happened was two years ago, the Friday of Memorial Day weekend was one of those spectacular spring days we get all too few of in our part of the world — warm, sunny, dry, and just full of promise.

So that afternoon, home early from work, I hopped on my bike, setting off on the first long ride of the season. It took me from my home in Bedford, N.H. on hilly back roads to the town center of New Boston, a small unsuburbanized community to the west. I then took Route 13, following the Piscataquog River downstream to Goffstown, a larger and busier town. From there, I took Wallace Road, which means a long climb up one side of the Uncanoonuc Mountains and then back down into Bedford.

It was long enough to be a memorable adventure, and at the time I thought it was the start to a season full of long bike rides. That was not to be, alas, as a biking accident that July sidelined me for the remainder of 2010. But it was memorable enough to spur me to get on my "new" bike (now more than a year old) this Memorial Day weekend for a repeat.

I hadn't planned on this, as our Memorial Day weekend had been otherwise claimed by houseguests from New York up for a family trip to the Granite State. But this past Monday, after making the rounds of the local cemeteries and putting petunias on the graves of relatives, I found myself back home on a day that was supposed to be the loser of the weekend, weatherwise, but was actually quite nice.

So I got out the bike and off I went, thinking that I had better get in some time if I'm ever going to be able to tackle the Kancamaugus Highway later this summer. (We'll see.) Yes, we had all climbed Mount Monadnock on Saturday, and my knees were still feeling it. So, even though the prior Memorial Day ride was in the back of my mind, my tired self (as well as predicted thundershowers) didn't plan on a repeat.

But who knows? Sometimes, once you're out on the bike, you find energy you didn't know you had. Grinding up a minor slope on Liberty Hill Road (the next street from my home), I felt terrible, like I should just turn back. But I kept going, and soon found I didn't want to stop. (Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from trying to cross Route 101 in Bedford, a busy highway that divides the town.)

And yes, before I knew it, I found myself downshifting to tackle the long steady grades on New Boston Road, then passing the New Boston town line, then making a right at a junction known locally as "Klondike Korner," all the while thinking I might need to turn back if a thunderstorm seemed likely.

But the sun stayed out and the sky stayed blue, spurring me deeper into New Boston, riding past homes sporting patriotic bunting and through the scent of evening cookouts wafting out onto the road. Up and down, and then finally DOWN, a steep grade and a sharp curve, putting me at the New Boston town gazebo.

Route 13 into Goffstown is pretty level, and I felt strong as I settled into this section. I was later surprised to find that I wasn't in the highest gear, but that had actually helped encourage me. After negotiating heavy traffic in Goffstown on Route 114, I peeled off onto Wallace Road and into the teeth of the long steady climb up the side of the mountain.

Home in two hours. Route of 28.1 miles, according to Google Maps. Not bad for a first big ride of 2012, and I hope the first of many. I do hope to do the Kanc later this season, and would also like to try for the seacoast -- perhaps even a round-trip! However, the idea of biking from York, Maine to my home is off for this season because they're replacing the one bridge in Portsmouth, N.H. that makes this ride possible. So maybe in 2013.

However, I find I do like the idea of a long solitary bike ride on Memorial Day weekend. It gives me time to think, and you can't help but think of Memorial Day as you pass all the decorated homes and, yes, smell the cookouts. It's a nice way to start the summer, and I think I'll try to do it again next year, weather willing.

In terms of running, a couple of new towns coming up: Effingham on Sunday, June 3, and Northfield on Saturday, June 23. However, at this rate, I'm not going to reach my goal of completing this quest by May 14, 2016, so I better start arranging for some back-to-back town runs.

Also, in terms of the "Running in All 50 States" quest, it looks like this will be the first month since I started in which I don't add a state to the roster. (Unless I sneak in a nearby one on Wednesday, May 30.) Well, we shall see. I have Maryland scheduled for June, Arkansas and Oklahoma for September, and several east/Midwest possibilities as part of a road trip in October, but it would be nice to keep the "every month" momentum going...

Saturday, May 19: 5K in Meredith (#133)

Meredith, with its white clapboard buildings and modest strip mall developments, is sort of like the upper middle class answer to Wolfeboro, the extremely well-to-do enclave on the other side of Lake Winnipesaukee.

And the 5K race on Saturday, May 19 was the first really hot one of the season, with bright skies and temps climbing towards 80 during the run. I finished in a pretty respectable time of 29:15, good enough to be 53rd out of 161, although a good number were walkers. (The race was a fundraiser: the Nathaniel Bibaud 5K Run/Walk 2012.)

One thing is that this race was point-to-point, starting at Inter-Lakes High School (perched on a bluff above town) and ending on town's Lake Winnipesaukee docks, where the 230-foot M/S Mount Washington calls. (But only once a week, apparently, according to this year's schedule.)

So it was a net downhill, but not without first taking us up into a residential neighborhood, and only then down a steep hill to the level of the lake, which it then follows around the bay to the town's center.

Unusual for New Hampshire communities, Meredith has an extensive network of sidewalks, which we used for long stretches of the race, especially near the end. Unfortunate, it seemed all the sidewalks were arranged so as to be in broad daylight at 10 a.m., meaning very little shade on this course.

Still, I felt fairly strong throughout the race, and was energzied by the last quarter-mile, which takes you along a network of wooden docks (which wobble a bit as you run on them) and a town park. With the finish in sight, I pushed hard and passed a gal who was also giving it a good try.

It was a good race, although I almost missed it due to incorrect information posted on www.coolrunning.com about it. This happens a few times a year, at least—I'll head all the way out to some unfamiliar part of town to seek out a race, and when I get to the listed starting point, no one's there! I think sometimes these people must fill out the form wrong, putting their office address (as town rec director, for example) instead of where the darn race is supposed to start.

Arriving in Meredith, I spotted the finish line no problem, so at least I knew a road race was indeed taking place. But the listing had the start at "Prescott Park," which was a mile or so up Route 3.

So up I went, to find a lot of people at Prescott Park, but no one who knew anything about a 5K race. So I went back into town, to question the folks at the finish line.

"Oh, it starts at the high school," a guy said. Okay! But how is it that organizers who post race info online get the starting location listed wrong so often? I can't tell you how many times I've been launched on wild goose chases to find races in unfamiliar, sometimes unsuccessfully. Okay, end of rant.

Got there with just enough time to register, bring change back to my car, and then arrive at the start, where festivities were already underway. After barely enough time to adequately stretch out, off we went, around the school and then, surprisingly, UP some side streets. (So much for my visions of an all downhill course...) After going in and out of a cul-de-sac, we then lost most of our altitude all at once, barrelling down a steep hill that bottomed out at lakeside.

For the final mile, the course followed the lake shore around to the town docks. Good news: Meredith is one of those rare New Hampshire towns that actually has sidewalks! Bad news: They invariably exist on the unshaded side of the road, at least during this road race.

Unusual feature: This is the first race I've run in with any appreciable distance on waterfront dockage! Weird, as some of the docks float on the water, meaning they roll a bit underfoot.

Finished strong but pushed myself a bit too hard, I think, judging by the overheated wastedness that enveloped me afterwards. I dispelled this zombie-like state by walking back to the starting point, which I didn't have to ask anyone about.

Biking home from Bollywood

No road races this weekend, but now that the semester's over (I've been teaching two courses at UNH-Manchester), trying to make room for a lot more activity among other commitments. And, in the process, for the first and perhaps only time in my life, I got to change my clothes in a movie theater.

Yesterday was a good example of how it's working lately. Volunteered to help at a colleague's Bollywood Film Festival, but it was such a nice day (sunny, dry, mid-70s) that a bike ride was imperative.

So the wife dropped me and the bike off at the funky Wilton Town Hall Theatre, site of the Bollywood Festival, which is about 20 miles from our home in Bedford, N.H. (Alas, I didn't pack the camera, so no original photos with this post.) Soon as I was discharged from my festival duties, I snuck into the unused "screening room" to change into bike clothes and did the 90-minute ride back to home base.

But that wasn't all. We have three dogs, and they really need to get exercised pretty much every day (as do I). So after giving our lawn a haircut, it was off to the races with the two younger pups, taking them on an abbreviated run/walk to a nearby brook so they could jump in and burn off some energy.

I held it there, and I'm glad I did, because my right Achilles tendon continues to feel a little dodgy. And I wanted to try a longer run today, in advance of this month's "50-stater," jaunt next weekend, which will probably be either Massachusetts or Maine. We'll see.

On that score, June will be Maryland (when I travel to a film event), and September and October will be Oklahoma/Arkansas/Missouri, which leaves July and August to fill. And then November will be the Manchester (N.H.) Marathon, so if I keep up the one-a-month pace, I should get to 10 by the end of the year, anyway.

Sunday, April 22: 5K in Dunbarton (#132)

The first rain we've had in three months moved in just in time for the Dunbarton Library's Earth Day 5K. A field of 18 runners braved the soggy hills that made up the course this afternoon. Despite the ups and downs, and also having already run four miles earlier today with two of our dogs, I finished in the impressive (for me) time of 28:48.

It was a fun low-budget race. Registration was a mere $5, a breath of fresh air compared to the $30-and-up figures I've been seeing lately. Instead of bibs, our numbers were written on paper with an adhesive backing; we then peeled and affixed them to our chest and our left shoulder. (I was #9; the woman underlined it so there would be no mistaking me. Alas, the numbers fell off in the rain.)

Most impressive was the homemade timing clock being used at the finish line. Made of green lights and particle board, I'd never seen anything like it. The guy who built it told me he'd made it using Christmas lights, which were arranged on a board so they could display any four-digit number, depending on what signals were received.

The display was one continuous strip of six wires, though cut and spliced in various ways. The output was controlled by a component fixed to the back of the board, which also fed info to the guy's laptop. It was just what was needed, with only the rain offering the possibility of any trouble.

Sure enough, coming in to the finish line, I noticed the "minutes" output was covered up by someone's sweatshirt; something had obviously gone awry. Still, it was an ingenious effort. It made me regret rushing out of the house without my camera.

And when I say rushing, I mean it. The race was scheduled to start at 3 p.m.; with less than an hour to go, I was still visiting my mother in a skilled nursing facility in Nashua, N.H. (Dear old mom is recovering from a recent fall.)

Not sure how up you might be on New Hampshire geography, but most people would be hard-pressed to make from Nashua up to Dunbarton in less than an hour. But I swung on the highway, made a pit stop at my house (in Bedford, N.H., about the half-way point) and yes, pulled in next to the Dunbarton Library at 2:50 p.m., with plenty of time to spare!

Actually, more than I expected. Though listed as starting at 3 p.m., the race didn't really begin until 3:30 p.m. With the rain already started, I stayed inside and checked out the modest library's selections. For a small library, very impressive! Good selection of coin books, and some interesting history DVDs. I also got to look at the Hugo Cabret book for the first time.

And it occurs to me that this blog is serving a purpose, even if it's just personal. Without, I probably would have been able to come up with any number of excuses about skipping today's run -- sickness, no time, a dicey Achilles tendon, the steady rain. But no -- this blog helped keep me motivated when I might otherwise have blown off this race.

And that's all from Town #132!

A few new towns in 2012...

Okay, checked the upcoming schedule and a few more races are now on the calendar in Granite State communities I haven't hit yet. Among them: Dunbarton (coming up this weekend, on Earth Day), Rumney, Campton, South Hampton, Meredith, and Laconia.

If I keep up, looks like I could bag another eight or nine this season. That's better than things looked a short time ago, but still far fewer than I'm used to in a given season.

So, in order to complete this quest by May, 2016, looks like I will have to start running a few do-it-yourself races here and there. The first one of those may happen the last weekend of April, so stay tuned.

Not sure when the next state in my "running in all 50 challenge" will be, but it could be Maryland on Saturday, June 9, when I plan to attend a silent film screening at which a friend's score will be premiered. We'll see...

In the meantime, training has been erratic, frankly. An injured mother, a congested work schedule, a stiff Achilles tendon, and wacky weather have conspired to keep me off the roads more than I like. Went out with the dogs twice this weekend, but both were short runs due to unseasonably hot weather. Speaking of which, it's changed enough so regular bike rides should commence, meaning cross-training and less chance of injury.

Haven't been to the gym in ages but should probably start that up again, too.

State No. 3: California, April 1, 2012

Today notched another in my 50-state running quest: California! We're in San Francisco this weekend for a screening of 'Napolean' (1927), so took the chance to get in an eight-mile run prior to spending eight hours in a movie theater.

Bright, breezy Sunday morning for an eight-mile jaunt (give or take) through the streets of San Bruno and Millbrae, and along the perimeter of San Francisco International Airport.

Headed out of our hotel at 6:50 a.m., sun just coming up. Bright, breezy morning, wore just shorts but two t-shirts just to be sure. Right decision. Worried about sore right Achilles tendon but didn't prove a problem.

Headed north on El Camino Real in San Bruno, then east on San Bruno Avenue, over Highway 101 and onto grounds of San Francisco International Airport. Followed McDonnell Avenue south, underneath spaghetti junction of concrete overpasses leading into terminal area, then continued south down to Millbrae Avenue. Recrossed 101 to hook up with El Camino Real again, then headed north back to hotel.

Time in: 8:30. So that's 100 minutes to do about eight miles. Nothing to write home about, but enough to cross California off my list.