Getting in to Harvard

Harvard, Massachusetts that is. We used to have a race there, 100k, 15 laps of a tough circuit. The course included a stiff stairstep climb, the lower portion of which was later used as the descent in the BRC Veryfine Grand Prix. Both races are gone now. Harvard was always a 1/2/3 affair, and the only year I finished it was once when they held it on an alternate course over by the Fruitlands Museum. Now I know that the general area is a common training destination for the Summahvillians and metrowest set, but for me that area is normally out of range. I've ridden the races, and even trained there a bit from jumping off points like Carlisle, but never ridden up there from home before this weekend.

I've been on the email list for the Needham "Champion's Ride" for several years, even though I've never once made an appearance. This ride is hosted by a guy who wears the stars and bars on his sleeves, and is attended by a few former US and Irish national champions, among other local cycling luminaries. They meet in Needham center whenever there is no race going on, doing longish group rides out in various directions. Now that I think about it, I have run into them out on the road, just never actually been to the meeting spot. Other than it being in Needham center, I wasn't even sure of the exact location.

So this weekend, with the only race options being TT's with long drive times and early morning starts, staying home was an easy choice for me. I'd been off the bike since Tuesday night anyway, as last week's 18.5 hours training had left me struggling at Wompatuck, and I needed a break. But I'm already a touch bored with my local routes this year, so when I got the Champion's Ride email saying they'd be heading out to Harvard, the wheels started turning in my head. With all the racing of the past few months, I can't remember the last time I did a long ride. Even more important, I've been riding in the white shoes -- while they may be PRO, truly achieving the look requires bronze legs to offset the gleaming footwear. A quick check of googlemaps showed Harvard to be a little over 80k from the home base, taking the most direct non-highway route. Not as far as I'd thought. Let's go.

Of course, wasting time in the morning is somewhat of a specialty for me, and Saturday was no different. After a pot of coffee and some extra food, it was already 8:40 when I discovered my chain and tires would need a little TLC. Plus I had to select clothing (it was damp out, but forecast to be nicer), mix bottles, gather enough cash to last all day, etc. I rolled out of the driveway at 9:00 am on the dot. The ride leaves Needham at 10. It's close to 35k, I think. Uh-oh. A sense of deja-vu set in. Whenever I ride to Wells Ave, I seem to end up in the same situation. Luckily the races there always run late. But last time I tried to head up to the Dover TT (Dover is next to Needham), I ended up time trialing right out my door in a failed effort to make the start. With a full day of riding planned, not to mention coming off three rideless days, the last thing I needed was to be making a big effort in the first hour.

The roads were wet but now the sun was out. After missing the lights in Stoughton square and losing more time, I conceded that I might miss the group. I was pretty sure that they didn't always leave right on time though, so I kept going. I took my old commute route through Canton and across University Ave, then cut through Islington to Fox Hill Road, across 109 and down through the high rent district near the Dedham Polo Club. That dumped me out into Dover and I headed up Chestnut Street toward Needham. It was now 10 am. I'm headed up Chestnut, a slight grade, trucking along and there's a flashing yellow light at an intersection. I have the right of way. There's a truck coming out from the right, and a group of about ten gumbies coming out from the left, waiting to cross. At the last second, the dump truck edges forward to block my lane and stops, then waves out the window to the riders for them to come across -- and they all do, pulling out right in front of me as I'm swerving to avoid the truck. Almost like bowling. Unbelievable. I had to panic brake, and the clueless gumbies (one of whom was wearing an IBC kit) just meandered across my path as if nothing had happened. UN.FUCKING.BELIEVABLE.

A mile up I come into what looks like it must be Needham center. I'm scanning the roadside for the group, but now it's 10:07 and my hopes of finding them are slim. I was out in the middle of my lane so I don't get doored, looking around, when suddenly an oncoming bluehair in a Jaguar sedan makes a left turn right across my path. For those keeping score, this is two cutoffs in five minutes. Luckily there were no cars coming from behind her (and no yellow windbreakers waiting to pounce either) and I was able to cross way over to the extreme left, narrowly avoiding an over-the-hood half gainer with a twist.

At this point, searching for the group became secondary to staying alive, so I just rolled through town with only a few peripheral glances. They were gone, but I decided hell, I left for Harvard, may as well ride to Harvard, and maybe I'd see them on the road. Cutting across Needham, through Lower Falls, past the infamous Mount Weston, and out to 117 was a route I knew well. Once on 117, familiar from Wachusett rides, I just headed west. From training with an old team mate who lived in Sudbury, I know there are much better alternatives that run parallel to 117, but this would be long enough as it was without getting lost, and 117, while not great, is not horrible for riding either. Once through Stow I saw Harvard Road on the right, with a sign noting just six miles to my destination. This turned out to be a great road with more bikes than cars on it, as well as a nice climb up to 111, which lead into Harvard center.

I pulled up to the general store with 2:53 and 82k on the watch. I went in and they didn't have gallons of water (I'd packed Gatorade powder) so I had to do some math to figure out which of the smaller bottle selections was the least of a rip-off, and ended up making a spot decision to buy a small bottle of Coke for my back pockets. I almost never drink Coke, but I've been watching the Giro and I'm young and impressionable. Scanning the shelves for Donettes was negative and I was pretty bummed, but then I saw they had homemade cookies that looked awesome, so I bought two. And my total was only $6.40. Heading outside while scarfing a cookie and mixing my bottles, who pulls up but the group. Mark says "what are you doing here?" and of course I reply "looking for you guys." He was like cool, you can ride back with us. There were five of them, at least two of whom were speaking "Irish" which meant that I had to pause and re-process every sentence a couple of times before figuring out what the hell they were saying. There were also two guys on the ride sporting the "masters build," making me a touch worried that their pace might be too piano for me. I'd been going pretty easy up until this point and had hoped to jam a bit on the way back. But I knew that their route selection would be better than mine, and I wasn't about to take off by myself. The stop was a touch long, maybe ten minutes, but eventually we rolled out.

My fears proved unfounded as after five minutes to let the foods settle, the group accelerated to a nice tempo, flying down the hills out of town like a race. Once on the flats we swapped back from two-by to single file where needed, but always kept it around 35 kph. For a stretch through Sudbury one of the Irish guys, really old school with a wool jersey and sweet steel bike, paced us at close to 40kph for fifteen minutes. Before I knew it we were back in Wellesley, and I'd only had to take two or three pulls, albeit several minutes each. The group broke up there and I rode back to Dover with Mark. He pulled off at home where I had almost 4.5 hours down, so we were going much quicker than I'd ridden on the way out. Solo in the last hour, now was the time to make hay and I rode hard tempo all the way across Medfield and Walpole, crossing over Moose Hill in Sharon as a last effort. The weather was glorious the entire ride. I got home just before 3 pm, 5:30 ride time, almost six total, 170k. So maybe riding to Wachusett and back from here would be doable. I always thought it would be over 220k and just plain too far/hard for me, but with proper route planning it might not be so bad...

My legs compliment the shoes a little better today too. Thanks for reading.