A climb in Vermont

Since I live in the flatlands of the South Shore, the only climbing I ever get to do is indoors, on the trainer, with the front wheel elevated on a milk crate. This is about as fun as visiting the dentist.

When Joe Tonon, the Director of the Tour de France Challenge, offered to take me up to Vermont for some climbing, I thought, this sounds great.

After an early-morning call, I met Joe at the Woburn mall, parked the Ford Explorer, and hopped into his righteous, black BMW and soon enough we were doing 75 mph on the way to Vermont. Pretty exciting, since I usually drive 64.

We found our way to Rochester, parked, got set up, and waited for Joe's friend Pete, a Jaegger Dog fundraiser for MS. I was pleased to see that Pete is bigger'n I am, by at least 20 pounds, as Joe is 140 pounds soaking wet and floats up hills. Coach Josh is like 129 pounds, so when he wants to climb a mountain, he just flaps his wings and up he goes. It looked like rain, so we brought the jackets just in case.

After a 45 minute warm up or so, we hit the first climb and I had a go at it. I just went, and it was all sweetness. Soon thereafter, I started to feel lousy. I don't know if it's the pollen in the air, or some lingering stomach issue, but I didn't really feel like myself. Got up the second climb as well.

Joe reviewed my riding style and said, "Hey, your left foot is pretty toed in." To which I replied, "Yeah, it ain't pretty, but it works."

For the last 20 miles, the sun came out and we hammered along, happy to be sitting on a fat tailwind, heading back to the car filled with the clean clothes, the cool drinks, the snacks.

Since my bicycle computer died, a victim of the great flood of two weeks ago, and some altitude pressure that pushed the water bubble from the display into the electronic workings, I rode like a Basque, by sensation and intuition. Not a bad way to go if you do all the work ahead of time.

Coach Josh, who has become one of my few friends as training has eliminated everyone else, counsels me that on the trip itself, only a fool sits on the bike staring at the computer when the righteous scenery is floating by. I've done all the hard work of training. I believe it is time to enjoy the trip, and not be a slave to the damn powertap.

On the sore subject of bicycles, Joe Tonon has a plan to get us the Scott CR-1, which is a hell of a bike, or a Trek 5.2 Madone. I could live with the Trek because that's like throwing B'rar Rabbit back into the Briar Patch. When questioned as to which Trek I should purchase, Zap, the in-house publicity guy specified the 5.2. Well, there you have it.

In either case, I'd love to have a compact crank, which would give me some options on the climbs. When the grade is gradual, I have options and can hang with decent climbers. When it goes straight up, all I can do is throw it on the 27, stand up, and knock out a cadence. I breath like HEE-HAW, HEE-HAW, HEE-HAW. Joe says, "Hey, you're setting a pretty fast pace." If I could talk,which I can't, because if I talk, I'm certain I'll fall off the bike and expire, I'd say, "Well, I can ride like this, or I can get off and walk, but those are the only two choices I have right now."

We covered the 80 miles a snick under five hours. Average speed was better than it sounds in that there was some waiting involved, as Pete was having a bad day and he had the map. Never leave the guy with the map behind.

Even though I enjoy my reality, it is fun to know there are alternative realities out there. Vermont is a beautiful, undeveloped place, where you could buy a spread, a wood stove, 25 dogs, a couple of big barrels of rum and just sit on your porch spitting toward the tourists.