Wednesday, March 13, 2013
What I like about New England is that I can go from this at my home
to this 90 minutes north in the White Mountains
and to this 90 minutes south on Cape Cod in the same weekend.
Chances are pretty good that somewhere not too far away it won't suck for something you enjoy doing outside. Other than slow, soggy snow, it was a marvelous day to be out in brilliant spring conditions at Waterville Valley on Saturday. I had planned to hit Jackson, a place I've yet to ski, but my new bike frame came in and I had to pick it up nearby in Plymouth.
As I've been fortunate to do a few times this winter, I hit the Cape for some bare dirt riding at the Trail of Tears on Sunday. The trails weren't perfect, as there is still a lot of tree debris from hurricane Sandy and other recent storms, but the workout obtained was brutal.
Most weekends this winter were long ski/long trail ride combos. This duel packs a potent one-two cardio punch. The soggy snow on Saturday was especially taxing, requiring almost as much energy expenditure to go down some hills as going up. This is how Dave felt after summiting Upper Osceola.
I was tempted to flop on the ground gasping for air too. The ski season could be coming to an abrupt end for me. I had planned to do the Sugarloaf Marathon this weekend, but a roof over our heads trumped those plans. We lost numerous shingles from our roof in a recent windstorm. Our house is <16yrs old, and all the shingles are curling up and cracking off. I can't believe we haven't developed leaks yet. I have a roofing contractor coming Friday and Saturday to replace the roof. I can't leave Cathy here to deal with that while I'm skiing laps in upstate Maine.
The following weekend, Brett, Arik and I are off to North Carolina for a week of "spring training." How much training really goes on at spring training camps? Maybe our wives and significant others don't really understand the nature of spring training camps. Back in Michigan, come deer hunting season, pretty much every breathing male heads to "deer camp" in far away places of the forest. The cover story says deer camp is a week of reconnecting with nature, male bonding, maybe even bringing home some meat for the table. What really goes on is a week of debauchery. What happens at deer camp stays at deer camp. I'm not saying cycling spring training camps are weeks of debauchery, heck, I don't even drink. Sometimes I think they are more about just getting away with the boys (or girls) than jump-starting fitness for the new season. I certainly look forward to hitting the highest peaks east of the Mississippi.