VT50 race report

Sunday started early. way early. jenn hooked me with some instant oats, chugged some juice and coffee, all the sudden it was 545. racers meeting was at 530. sky was beginning to alight. didn't the race begin at sunrise? our condo was across and down the road about a 1/2mile from the start. grabbed brad and we sprinted-out through the dark cool morning air, so heavy with dew my specs covered-over with moisture. blinded, but hammering. is this a good way to warm up or bad? probably bad. legs sore, but legs have been sore for a week. we arrive. not late. race start at 615.

line-up around 605. already a full crowd, 150-200 expert riders. sport and novice behind. runners behind them. i walk across the front of the first row, already full, so i barge into the second. "excuse me. thanks." i'll earn my spot this time or blow-up trying.

there's no gun, just a guy saying "go" and we're off at a quick pace. last year i wouldn't have been able to hang, now i find myself working to not get stuck pulling the group. we stay on the road for 5-6miles, no one really wants to lead, but the pace stays high nonetheless. people on the brakes at 25mph, the pack behind us groans and someone complains, "doesn't anyone fucking know how to ride in a paceline?" i don't hear the sound of flesh and metal hitting the dirt, so it's all good. try to stay 6-7 folks back for the hard right turn into the tight singletrack entrance which turns-up a crushingly steep goathill of a climb - it will shatter this pack. wow. some strong riders up here. foley, racine, lyster. i'm no fool. i know i need to let these guys go and wait for the right group to form-up come time.

we hit the hard right, guy in front of me slips off bike, i'm off, i hear more yells behind me, "does anyone know how to ride!?"

up the climb, the pace stays decent, but it's 5% more than i should expend. by mile 10 i let lead pack completely slip away, if i hang up there, i'll blow-up, by aid station 2 (mile 12) they've got 1-2mins. jenn and mike p are there, nice to see them, i drop my arm warmers off. a chase group of sorts forms, but not a lot of guys working together. work with a couple guys here and there - one of which i know was the guy talking trash earlier in the pack. it continues. nice.

by aid station 4 (mile 22) we're still together, but by aid station 5 (mile 27) i'll let them go. if i keep the pace-up, i'll blow-up. haven't or eaten or drank much as the late breakfast didn't digest well and stomach has been crampin'. i ease-up a tad and start chugging HEED, more sips of Sustained Energy and then a Hammer Gu. within 15mins i'm feeling the fuel and am having fun again. the long sections of fireroad are mostly behind us and the course is now on atv roads and singletrack. the VT50 is a real nice ride!

by mile 32 (aid station 6) i've settled-in, but legs are definitely sore. guys have begun to pass me every 20mins or so. this will continue untill the finish where i end-up in 16th place. the rest of the race is tough on the tired legs, but great. the course flows nicely with a couple-few beautiful sections of singletrack and some great views. there isn't a speck of mud on the trails! off-camber roots which normally would be a cause for concern aren't even noticed. the climbs don't really let-up, but none are too long or grueling... it's more that the downhills are never long enough!

i eat a potatoe at aid station 7 (mile 37), need something substantial in my guts, but only stop for a few seconds. continue to chug the HEED, some light cramps are right below the surface in my quads. not enough fluids taken-in and my half-full camelback and water bottle are indicators of that at the finish. i Gu again, but drop one. oh crap!

i save the final gu for mile 47 and the last aid station. on the beginning of the ascent into the Ascutney xc ski trails i begin to see the haze in my eyes, i'm feeling light-headed. i waited too long to Gu, but if the gu kicks-in quick, i'll be fine, this is not happening, i am not breaking down... i push-on. brad and i rode these final three miles yesterday. i know this trail. all i have to do is make 3 more climbs. 1 down... 2 down... 3 down. across the ski slopes, i look back for the first time the whole race. no one there. don't have to sprint. i smile a big toothy grin all the way down the slope at speed towards the finish, bouncing and hoping along.

done in 4:42, 16th place overall out of 650 hearty souls. nipped last year's time by 30mins! i am very pleased. how could i not be!?

the post-race bbq is solid, good food, great band, $1.50 pints of Harpoon. nice. harry rolls across in 5:03. nice! Dan runs a 5:25 5ok! holy crap! that dude hasn't trained at all and finished in 20th place or so. iron man. one tough hombre. brad rolls across about 10mins behind his personal best in 5:45. another dude under 6! nice! he took the grannie gear off the bike... some of those climbs must have been pretty damn burly. more power to him!

a few hours later harry nabs some podium. 3rd place, Senior I. i know harry's bummed he didn't break 5, but it was a great ride and an awesome rip on that course! and came-away with some hardware. cool.

time to watch the sox...

VT50 this Sunday

Finally, a race worth getting excited about! The VT50. The largest mtbike race in New England, with a field limit of 650 riders. Utica Dan is rolling-out to do the 50k run. It'll be cool to chill with that brother, just need to stay off the beer the night before! Tough to do when hangin' with an old school buddie... but that's what Sunday afternoon is for.

It's been a solid month since Mt Snow and i'm itching to race my bike! Jamie slapped a new cassette and chain on there today, new lock-on grips (it was sad to cut Bobkey's Prayer Sticks off, but i had to face facts - they're terrible for the long haul), also put some new ceramic pads on. It still stops like a dumptruck w/o discs, but with the forecast showing no rain...

Here's what'll be in the jersey pockets:
(1) Crankbros 17 chain tool
(2) 16oz Co2 cartidges & nozzle
(1) tube
(6) pieces of instant patch
(6) Hammer Gels
(2) Luna bars

Race goals:
Have an f'ing blast riding my bike!
Top 10
Break 4hrs, 45mins on the clock. Course record is 4:15.

Last year i broke a chain at mile 11 or 12 and it took me an eternity to fix - about 10mins. I simply couldn't get the repaired links to move freely, finally had to cut another link out and re-attach, then got it moving smoothly... Anyway, rode a disappointing 5:12 or so... but had a great time doing it. The course is well-marked, amazing views, some great climbs... i was so pumped after getting the chain fixed i got out of the saddle and mashed for many miles - but didn't eat enough and fell apart with 5-8miles to go. I'm not making the fueling mistake again. This year i'm armed with Hammer products, which have been a huge improvement over gatorade and cliff shots...

La Ruta de los Conquistadores

By this time in the mtbike season last year i was totally burned-out... this year i don't want the season to be over - and am thinking about finishing it off right with an epic. La Ruta:

http://www.adventurerace.com/eng/introduction.htm

Andy suggests just doing our own epic in and around the north shore - and saving the cash. Not a bad idea... but it's just not the same as an epic off-road race from the atlantic to the pacific, through the costa rican jungle, up and down enormous interior mountains... but i also don't see how the $1500 required for transportation and entry fees is going to fall in my lap - or off the leafless moneytree in our backyard... maybe a late october weekend trip to the Kingdown trails. It's not quite the same... but something needs to be done to finish this season off right - and La Ruta would be incredible. Rob sent an article, some solid pros showing-up this year:

http://www.velonews.com/pr/prn/articles/8937.0.html

...the legs are begining to fire nicely for this weekend's 50. 2 days into the taper and they're on-track. but anything can happen. it's always a slight mystery as to when they're only going to be "good" vs "golden." also time to begin a little carb-loading, top off those glycogen stores - maybe a trip to the Field for some darts and Guiness is in order to kick that process off right!

Shithead mood is over

Seems like (i have been) complaining a lot the past couple days. Not cool. Time to turn a corner, get positive - and fired-up for this weekend! This morning's ride was definitely a help. Ample sunshine, one last warm stretch of weather... bumped into a fellow commuter i see from time to time - i let him pull me for a bit, then jumped in front to return the favor until he disappeared in the ever thickening traffic. Which got me thinking about my buddy, mr. blue klein, and wondering why he gets me fired-up when he goes by, head down, legs pumping ferociously, givin' it his best. Why would i care how he chooses to ride or if he's risky his life, not my decision. Maybe he only has 30mins in the morning and at night and the dude's gotta hammer to try to make-up for duration. I realized this morning that i've simply been in a shit-head mood the past couple days and that it's time to move-on. Moving on...

Taper begins in earnest for the vt50 today. 90% duration yesterday, 75% today, 50% tomorrow with spin-ups, Friday off, 50% duration saturday with spin-ups. I think. It's always changing depending on how the legs feel. When i first got into this whole training thing 30months ago i asked Rob what the secret to his success was. His response, "listen to your body..." been doing that ever since... mostly... when not obsessing about rides. So conflicted, but it's a great thing to be conflicted about!

ATA Cycles dinks me / Blue Klein sighting!

Well, ATA Cycles has officially let me down. They ordered the Litespeed part the day it was supposed to arrive, lied to me that they had ordered it 3 days prior, charged me for expedited shipping (took 6 days to arrive), then charged me $10 more than the part costs off Litespeed's site. I got super-steamed and told them i was never coming back, their shop's a joke, etc, so they offered me some free tubes, gu's etc... I can take getting ripped-off, but getting lied to is unacceptable. The owner gave me a rippin' deal on my first racing mtbike - a 2001 Giant NRS1 - so i've gone back since to get little things here and there as they're only a couple miles from my house - but i also always leave feeling ripped-off: $3/ft for cable housing, $26 for Assos... don't go to ATA unless you're a wealthy roadie! Their mtbike knowledge is thinner than a bald man's hairline.

On the way to work, saw an old friend - a guy I refer to as 'Blue Klein.' I hadn't seen him in many months, but today's sighting was as expected. He flies by on his hardtail at about 22-23mph, head down, pumping his legs full-out. Racing through traffic, daring me to race him back. He never just rolls-up and says hello - as i do to fellow bike commuters before pulling ahead... Matching his pace isn't an issue, especially on the road bike which i've been riding this summer, but it's not worth the risk on the narrow Boston streets. I've been hit 3 times in 5 years, but since slowing-down and taking things more cautiously the past year and a half, i've been hit ZERO times. It's odd, when I decided to get serious about training and racing, the need for speed when bike commuting completely disappeared. Mr. Blue Klein seems to be willing to risk his life to stay ahead of me - squeezing between moving and parked cars - oblivious or uncaring to the risks of getting doored or a car jumping-out. I'm guessing his ego needs it... i just hope that dude doesn't get squished flat one of these days by an equally over-anxious Boston driver. That being said, i enjoy seeing him, as it's fun to jump on his tail and witness whatever ridiculous move he's about to pull. Sometimes i get a little too close, but figure i can use his body for cushioning if he gets doored.

No race for me this past weekend

Worked on the Litespeed Pisgah on Saturday in preparation for the weekend's race, was hoping to put disc brakes on it with this clamp-on disc tab, but ATA Cycles couldn't seem to figure-out how to ask Litespeed to to do 2-day shipping (come-on now boys! - that's what i get for cheating on Jamie at Western Cycle - burned!) and the part didn't arrive on Friday as it should have. But that aside, equipment was ready for the Sunday race. Unfortunately, my mind and legs weren't. Just wasn't pumped for it when i woke-up on Sunday... haven't been home on a weekend in over a month. When Jenn's sister called to say she, Chris, and the dogs were coming to Boston, decided to hang home for some quality time (and a quality ride, of course).

Legs were a bit tired when i opened them up 15-20mins into the road ride. Perfect weather, 70 degrees, modest sunshine. In the 2nd tempo piece I pushed at 95% and saw HRM go to 188 for the 3mins, which was good as i'm guessing i had another gear to drop into if i was pedaling for my life, but also a little lower than expected. I didn't recover super-well after each of the first 3 tempo pieces, making me further believe bailing on the race was a good decision as my legs were really tired and heavy for 10mins or so after each effort vs the expected 2-4mins. After about an hour on the road, decided it wasn't where i wanted to be, so swung home, grabbed the race-ready mtbike and hit the Fells for 90-100 mins of steady, up-tempo riding. The HRmonitor showed an average of about 150 for both rides (160mins), which is 5-10beats below where it have been in a race, but a good simulation without bringing the reserves down to zero.

The legs were really golden before the backpacking trip and have been heavy since, but i've also been keeping on them, 2days medium to hard intensity, decent amount of duration, followed by medium-easy day - hoping to let 'em loose this weekend at the VT50 with a taper... We'll see. I've brought them up and down 2-3times this year, not sure if they'll come back again or not. How many times can I push hard for an "A" endurance race, drop-back for a week, then build again for the next "A" race 6weeks later? This will be the third and final time this season... unless something else comes-up that looks inviting... maybe if they don't breakthrough this weekend, they'll be ready for the Foliage 400 - and a solo effort there. Was planning on doing a team effort, but might need one last endurance fix before the end of the racing season...

Photos from our backcountry trip in the Adirondacks

It was a great trip, excluding the 10.5 miles of excruciating pain Jenn went through on our hike-out of the park with a dislocated knee! Here are some pics, mostly before the knee - and a few after.

Getting all the gear sorted-out on Sunday afternoon. Entry Point: Tawhaus Iron Works, outside Newcomb, NY. Old titanium mine and heavy logging area, now owned and "protected" by the State of New York as part of the Adirondack park.


Jenn hiking in...


Me hiking in - with bronte carrying her own weight!


Jenn with a full pack. The more we eat, the lighter our loads...


Morning of day 3, Marcy Dam - today we hike Algonquin, second highest peak in the park. Avalanche Pass and Mt Colden are in the background (where we came from yesterday). By tonight we'll be on the other side of the Pass again...


Me posing for the camera with Bronte...


Snack break before the final push to the summit. Couldn't resist scrambling-up the falls for a photo-op.


Jenn hiking through a beautiful stand of birch.


Found someone to take our picture at the summit! Avalanche Pass is now right behind/below us.


Lake Colden below to the right - the far shore is our destination for the night - a long way for someone to go with a soon-to-be dislocated knee...


Jenn coming down off the top of Algonquin, last pic before the injury...


Can't tell from this pic (can from the next) - but the best lean-to (view) in the park. Jenn taking a much deserved rest with a very swollen left knee. You can even tell in this picture how one knee is round like an orange... i refused to tell her looked bad until we were at the doctor's in Boston 3 days later.


Dinner is done. Just relaxing, looking at one of the most perfect views in the park. Avalanche Pass and Mt Colden reflecting off the water... it's been a long day. Tomorrow Jenn will have to suffer through a final 6.5mile hike - through some rough terrain for first couple miles... a very painful 24 hours for her from the top of Algonquin to our entry/exit point at Tawhaus Iron Works, but for now, one last night of peace and tranquility in the backcountry before re-entering the hectic world.

This trip certainly left us hungry for more of the backcountry. With some good therapy on her knee, i'm sure we'll be back-out next summer...

Why do folks not wear helmets?

Saw some crazy-action this morning on the commute. some knucklehead was riding an old-school 21" wheeled, banana seat low-rider, with wide handlebars set up above his shoulders. he really let it rip coming down the longfellow bridge into boston - no helmet, iPod blasting in his ears, then BAM! i don't know if he nicked his wide handlebars against a car or when swearving between cars his narrow 21" tire went perpendicular, but he was airborne - up and over the bars, back down on his head, then rolling - all tied-up in the bike... the traffic light had just turned green, so cars weren't moving very quickly at this point or he would surely have been run-over to boot.

I'm first on the scene, having been right behind him at the time. I roll around to his left, blocking traffic so no one drives over him and ask if he's ok, "yeah... i think."

I stop, put my bike against the railing of the bridge, grab his and he begins moving towards the curb. traffic flows along, no one wants to stop - he's only one of those annoying cyclists. two pedestrians are now on-scene, talking with him - he mentions "nicking" his head - more like slamming it against the pavement. now that he's not alone, bike and body up off the roadway, i think i can roll. i look him in the eye and say, "time to get a helmet, brutha', right?" he nods in agreement - i hope for his sake he does.

3mins later, as i ride down berkley street between some of the Hub's only skyscrapers, a bike messenger rolls a few dozen yards away - ripped cut-off pants complete with thick chain securing his wallet - no helmet of course. no self-respecting currier would wear a helmet... everyone wants to be cool. i just want to avoid being a life-long vegetable!

"hey jeff, want me to put those pureed carrots in the feeding tube? blink once for yes, twice for no." blink-blink.

The real story after Hurricane Katrina

The following was sent by Tobias Wolff to his father, Robert Paul Wolff, professor in the Afro-American Studies Department at UMass Amherst, and contains an eyewitness account of two paramedic friends of Tobias who were trapped in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

Sent: Tuesday, September 06, 2005 11:07 PMSubject: Saramago's Blindness Revisited -- an eyewitness account from New Orleans

Hurricane Katrina-Our Experiences
Larry Bradshaw, Lorrie Beth Slonsky

Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreen's store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets remained locked. The dairy display case was clearly visible through the widows. It was now 48 hours without electricity, running water, plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat. The owners and managers had locked up the food, water, pampers, and prescriptions and fled the City. Outside Walgreen's windows, residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty and hungry.

The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized and the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was an alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and distributed the nuts, fruit juices, and bottle water in an organized and systematic manner. But they did not. Instead they spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the looters.

We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and arrived home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the TV coverage or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no video images or front-page pictures of European or affluent white tourists looting the Walgreen's in the French Quarter.

We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" images of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling to help the "victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but what we witnessed,were the real heroes and sheroes of the hurricane relief effort: the working class of New Orleans. The maintenance workers who used a fork lift to carry the sick and disabled. The engineers, who rigged, nurtured and kept the generators running. The electricians who improvised thick extension cords stretching over blocks to share the little electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on rooftop parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and spent many hours on end manually forcing air into the lungs of unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks stuck in elevators.
Refinery workers who broke into boat yards, "stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their roofs in flood waters. Mechanics who helped hot-wire any car that could be found to ferry people out of the City. And the food service workers who scoured the commercial kitchens improvising communal meals for hundreds of those stranded.

Most of these workers had lost their homes, and had not heard from members of their families, yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20% of New Orleans that was not under water.

On Day 2, there were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in the French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for safety and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with family and friends outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly told that all sorts of resources including the National Guard and scores of buses were pouring in to the City. The buses and the other resources must have been invisible because none of us had seen them.

We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came up with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the City. Those who did not have the requisite $45.00 for a ticket were subsidized by those who did have extra money. We waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the last 12 hours standing outside, sharing the limited water, food, and clothes we had. We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly and new born babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent" arrival of the buses. The buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute the arrived to the City limits, they were commandeered by the military.

By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased, street crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us out and locked their doors, telling us that the "officials" told us to report to the convention center to wait for more buses. As we entered the center of the City, we finally encountered the National Guard. The Guards told us we would not be allowed into the Superdome as the City's primary shelter had descended into a humanitarian and health hellhole.
The guards further told us that the City's only other shelter, the Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and squalor and that the police were not allowing anyone else in. Quite naturally, we asked, "If we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the City, what was our alternative?" The guards told us that that was our problem, and no they did not have extra water to give to us. This would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and hostile "law enforcement".

We walked to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street and were told the same thing, that we were on our own, and no they did not have water to give us. We now numbered several hundred. We held a mass meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media and would constitute a highly visible embarrassment to the City officials. The police told us that we could not stay. Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order, the police commander came across the street to address our group. He told us he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge where the police had buses lined up to take us out of the City.

The crowed cheered and began to move. We called everyone back and explained to the commander that there had been lots of misinformation and wrong information and was he sure that there were buses waiting for us. The commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you that the buses are there."

We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with great excitement and hope. As we marched pasted the convention center, many locals saw our determined and optimistic group and asked where we were headed. We told them about the great news. Families immediately grabbed their few belongings and quickly our numbers doubled and then doubled again. Babies in strollers now joined us, people using crutches, elderly clasping walkers and others people in wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles to the freeway and up the steep incline to the Bridge. It now began to pour down rain, but it did not dampen our enthusiasm.
As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak, they began firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing in various directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation. We told them of our conversation with the police commander and of the commander's assurances. The sheriffs informed us there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us to move.

We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as there was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in their City. These were code words for if you are poor and black, you are not crossing the Mississippi River and you were not getting out of New Orleans.

Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the end decided to build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain Expressway on the center divide, between the O'Keefe and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we would be visible to everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated freeway and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be seen buses.
All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to be turned away. Some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no, others to be verbally berated and humiliated. Thousands of New Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the City on foot.

Meanwhile, the only two City shelters sank further into squalor and disrepair. The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could be hotwired. All were packed with people trying to escape the misery New Orleans had become.

Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water delivery truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! A mile or so down the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-rations on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in shopping carts.
Now secure with the two necessities, food and water; cooperation, community, and creativity flowered. We organized a clean up and hung garbage bags from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We designated a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids built an elaborate enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas, and other scraps. We even organized a food recycling system where individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for babies and candies for kids!).

This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. When individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to find water for your kids or food for your parents. When these basic needs were met, people began to look out for each other, working together and constructing a community.
If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and water in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration and the ugliness would not have set in.

Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our encampment grew to 80 or 90 people.

From a woman with a battery powered radio we learned that the media was talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and news organizations saw us on their way into the City. Officials were being asked what they were going to do about all those families living up on the freeway? The officials responded they were going to take care of us. Some of us got a sinking feeling. "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to it.

Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was correct. Just as dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get off the fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its blades to blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water.

Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law enforcement agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or congealed into groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they saw "mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay together" was impossible because the agencies would force us into small atomized groups.
In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we scattered once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway on Cilo Street. We were hiding from possible criminal elements but equally and definitely, we were hiding from the police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to-kill policies.

The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact with New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out by an urban search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the airport and managed to catch a ride with the National Guard. The two young guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the Louisiana guards. They explained that a large section of their unit was in Iraq and that meant they were shorthanded and were unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned.

We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. The airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a press of humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while George Bush landed briefly at the airport for a photo op. After being evacuated on a coast guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.

There the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief effort continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where we were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses did not have air-conditioners. In the dark, hundreds if us were forced to share two filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) we were subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches.
Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal detectors. Yet, no food had been provided to the men, women, children, elderly, disabled as they sat for hours waiting to be "medically screened" to make sure we were not carrying any communicable diseases.

. This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart-felt reception given to us by the ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered us money and toiletries with words of welcome. Throughout, the official relief effort was callous, inept, and racist. There was more suffering than need be. Lives were lost that did not need to be lost.

--Eric SchocketAssociate Professor of American LiteratureHampshire College

10 days of no work and all play!

A week simply isn't long enough to fully remove yourself from the day-to-day work groove and into one of leisure... or maybe it's tough to get into a leisure groove when your vacations are packed full of backpacking, endurance racing, etc... or maybe it's just that vacation goes by way too fast no matter what you're doing - especially when it's fun!

Our vacation started-off with some bad news (the thursday before last). A close friend is going through some tough times and it was hard to leave him when he needed us most... we spent friday evening together, then had to leave him to cope on his own when we left saturday for our much anticipated week-off... he was in our thoughts throughout and we both wish he'd come with us, but it just didn't work-out like that.

We arrived in Niskayuna, NY, to stay with jenn's mom and ron before heading-up to the Adirondacks for 5days of backpacking. I brought my road bike and got-out for a 3hr rip on Sunday morning before leaving for the mtns around 2pm. The road riding in Niskayuna is fantastic! Every type of ride - rolling, big hills, flat... minimal cars and frequently wide shoulders. I guess the only drawback would be the long winter when deciding where to live (other than boston)... i rode at exceptionally higher speeds than normal, with hrm within reasonable limits - a question plagued me, though, will my new-found form fall-off if i miss too many days backpacking?

Our trip in the Adirondacks was superb minus one dislocate knee. Excellent weather, no bugs... there was a new ordanance that we had to carry canisters for food due to the bear's recent ability to cut-down bear bags by cutting the tie-off ropes with their claws, then scooping-up the bags when they hit the ground. We didn't have a canister - and spent sunday night straining to hear a bear cut our tie-off line over the sound of a gurgling stream. No worries, though, no bear incident and on monday we changed our itinerary and headed deeper into the park to grab a couple "free" bear canisters at the interior outpost.

It was weird going from the loose backpacking style of the Appalachians - where i've never been concerned with the fuzzy lumps of black fur and muscle called black bears - to a more intense grizzly-bear style of thought - where you cook in different clothes than you eat in, you cook far from where you sleep, etc... but the canisters worked and the bears went back to their normal way of life. Black bear sightings are rare and magical moments... I've seen one in the wild twice. Once with cubs when i was young and once in Glacier NP where we came almost nose to nose with a juvenile, who couldn't care less about us - and sat eating berries while we waited for him to clear the trail.

On Tuesday, after an amazing day of backpacking, we headed down off Algonquin (one of the tallest in the Adirondacks) - a 3000 vertical foot hike jammed into a couple miles - to Lake Colden and the most beautiful spot i've been at in the park. Near the top of the descent, Jenn's knee snapped backwards as she stepped down. Luckily, the kneecap didn't snap-over and stick to the side, but popped-back into place (mostly), but the damage was done. Tendons had been strained and it immediately began to swell-up to the size of an orange. The pain was intense for poor Jenny, who remained calm and knew there was only one solution. Down. Since her kneecap hadn't slidden off to one side, she hiked-down to the lean-to and then out of the park the next day on her own pained power - then to the doctor! We hope she can rehab it with strength training, but surgery may be necessary to avoid this in the future... it's a real bummer for her - and for her season, as the running season is now officially over for her... we're just hoping she can be back for the ski season.

We did however, have a couple wonderful days backpacking together... and after staying with her mom for another night on wed, we were back in boston on thursday night to take her to the doctor on fri morning... then off to the Churn and Burn 24 that afternoon, where Andy and Harry were competing on Saturday-Sunday.

Harry rode an amazing race - very strong, steady and smart - and finished in 4th place with 150miles of technical xc under his belt! A fantastic performance. I don't think the other folks there knew he was 18 either! A real nice race. What's really solid is his easy-going and friendly demeanor during events. I can get a bit worked-up, it's good to see folks stay calm as they get it done.

Andy rode a fantastic 12 hour race - unfortunately it was a 24. It was his first effort at a 24 and his fueling plan was all over the place - and his energy levels crashed at midnight - but after refueling and resting he got back out there to hammer-out another 4hours in the morning to record 120 solid miles of dirt riding. If he's into the scene, he'll be a serious podium threat in his next outing - as will Harry.

Pictures of the hiking trip and the Churn and Burn to follow...

My form seems to have not been done much harm, minus the 5lbs i gained eating so much on vacation! i managed to get-out more on my bike than expected - including 6 laps of ghost riding at the churn and burn by Gary Goodvibes... then a nice indoor session yesterday evening to check form, open-up the legs and set-up the week for this weekend's EFTA race...

How much worse can it get?

"Get off your asses and let's do something and let's fix the biggest goddamn crisis in the history of this country," Nagin said. "People are dying. They don't have homes, they don't have jobs. The city of New Orleans will never be the same. And it's time." - ray nagin, mayor, new orleans.

from http://www.click2houston.com/news/4887230/detail.html:
At least seven dead bodies were scattered among the thousands of storm evacuees who'd been waiting for days outside the New Orleans Convention Center. One man, pointing to a dead woman in a wheelchair, said, "I don't treat my dog like that. I buried my dog." An old man lay dead in a chaise lounge in a grassy median, as hungry babies wailed around him.

The Coast Guard said that when helicopters tried to take people out of New Orleans hospitals, they were shot at by people demanding that the choppers come to rescue their own family members.
In coastal Mississippi, refrigerated mobile morgues cruised around like garbage trucks, picking up bodies left on sidewalks and in front yards. Family members tried to treat the bodies with respect, wrapping them in curtains or sheets they can find in the debris.

For those who sought refuge in the New Orleans convention center, it became just another part of the nightmare. Police Chief Eddie Compass said some of the thousands trapped there are being raped, and others beaten. He says hotels have sent away their tourists and are being "preyed upon." The chief says he sent in officers to quell the situation, but they were quickly beaten back by an angry mob.

The street outside the New Orleans convention center is choked with dirty diapers, old bottles and garbage, and it smells of urine and feces. People chanted, "Help, help!" as reporters and photographers walked through. The crowd got angry when journalists tried to photograph one of the dead bodies, and covered it over with a blanket. A woman, screaming, went on the front steps of the convention center and led the crowd in reciting the 23rd Psalm.

A visiting sheriff's detective from Florida says he saw people wave down a squad car near the convention center last night. The car slowed down, and the crowd swarmed -- causing the officer to drive off and return with other officers. He says the officers told the crowd, "Everybody down, or we're going to shoot" -- and the people scattered.

One looter sobbed as she took items from a store's shelves and put them into plastic garbage bags to take to her shelter. She was taking children's clothing and snack foods, but couldn't find any water. Another woman on a bicycle rode up to a drug store and asked if people were being arrested. When told that they weren't, she said she was a diabetic and that she needed test strips.

A tourist trapped in a New Orleans hotel says "No one really knows what to do." Susan Dewey says "The people who are left are just going and breaking into stores." She says you see people dragging bags of shoes, then later, "you would see piles of shoe boxes." Dewey thought she'd found a way out when she banded with hundreds of other tourists to hire ten buses for $25,000. But, after waiting hours, they learned government officials had commandeered the buses to evacuate others.

There are also acts of kindness. One woman was seen using a broken-up soda carton to fan a woman in a wheelchair, trying to keep her cool. In an apparent bid to lift her spirits, she kept asking the woman if she wanted ice cream, or a cola. Someone commandeered a golf cart from the convention center and drove off, carrying the woman in a wheelchair.

For the evacuees arriving at the Houston Astrodome from New Orleans, a shower in one of the stadium's four locker rooms was a welcome relief. But for Audree Lee, it was a relief as well to hear the voice of her teen-age daughter for the first time since the storm. She says she and her daughter both cried, and that the girl asked about her dog. She says, "They wouldn't let me take her dog with me...I know the dog is gone now."

Reporters and politicians in the area devastated by the hurricane are being begged by survivors to pass information to their families. Louisiana's Lieutenant Governor Mitch Landrieu had a pocket full of scraps of paper on which he scribbled down phone numbers. This morning, he contacted a woman whose father had been rescued, and told her, "Your daddy's alive, and he said to tell you he loves you." He says the woman started crying and said, "I thought he was dead."

Katrina really gave it to us...

As i sit here, in my comfortable home, safely perched on a slab of rock in Medford, Massachusetts, i cannot stop thinking about the hurricane victims along the gulf coast. My employer has given us the day off, in thanks for our hard work, but has also asked that we spend some time today helping folks effected by the hurricane. So, as I sit here, sipping coffee and preparing for my morning mtbike ride, I cruised over to the American Red Cross's donation page on Yahoo and sent a few bucks. I know there isn't a lot of readership on this blog, but for those of you who do read it, maybe you could also hit-up this link and drop them a couple bucks... Later in the day, before I head-out to do some errands for our big backpacking trip in the Adirondacks, i'm going to see if there's anything else i can do - send blankets, food, clothing... it's times like these, with such a beautiful day ahead, a solid mtbike ride kicking it off, a vacation to look forward to (with a really cool chick, that happens to be my wife!), that make me feel so very lucky. it's hard to believe others are suffering so very badly while things here are so good. But, this is nothing new, the tragedy that is - i guess it just takes it happening in our own backyards for us to lift our heads from the sand and take action.