The long haul

With no races this weekend, I took Saturday to go for a six-hour training ride. With my focus usual centered on squeezing my training miles during the workweek, tapering for weekend races, and logging enough couch time to keep my legs fresh, I sometimes forget how much fun just a plain old ride can be.

The day started at Uncommon Grounds, where I met James and a visitor from New Mexico (Cody? Colby?), who is here enjoying moderate temperatures. We headed out of town, riding north to Spier Falls, then popping over the mountain into Glens Falls. From there it was a straight shot back other the ridge to the Hudson, and into Hadley.

We kept rolling north to Hadley Hill road at the base of Hadley Mountain. We rolled down into the Town of Day, and James and Cody turned around. We'd been out for three hours. Now alone on the decidedly out of the way North Shore Road, I road west, rolling along the lake. Only yards to my left were people fishing in the great Sacandaga Lake, water skiing, and sunbathing. It was a cool, windless day, and nary a car was on the lake-side road. In Edinburgh I turned onto the steep Snow Road. Snow road is one of a few points in Saratoga County when I start to feel like I'm really, really out in the sticks.

I don't know if it's the ancient blue-and-yellow Sabrett Hot Dog truck, marked with a "For Sale" sign, or if it's the one car garage with a half-disassembled race car up on blocks, where the radio is always on, but hardly a soul is to be seen, but Snow Road always makes me feel very, very alone.

When I got to the top of Snow Road, it was on to Millitary Road. There isn't much traffic, and there aren't too many homes. But there are some odd sights. There's the modernist sculpture-cum-house letters demarcating 335 Military Road -- giant stainless steel things that would look perfectly at home in the Met -- and there is the tree farm with row after row of telephone-pole straight trees, all neatly trimmed. And then there is Edinburg Center. A municipal building and town garage all in one. A giant plow rests out front and a salt shed sits in the back. There is a playground, but no school. I roll on.

Eventually, I get to "downtown" Edinburg -- covered bridge, rescue squad, gas station. There's allegedly an airport, but I haven't seen it. I stop at the gas station and buy a Snickers bar and a Gatorade. The clerk frowns slightly when I hand him my sweat-soggy dollar bills. I smile and tel him to have a nice afternoon.

From here it's across the bridge to South Shore road, then into Providence, and over the mountain back into the Kayderosseras Valley (my name, not official). The last climb goes slowly, but I make it over the hill. Suddenly, there are cars everywhere and everything smells like exhaust.

The sticks can, at times, be a little desolate, but for an athlete who spends all his time on the hot tarmac, sometimes a little isolation is a relief.

I rolled into the house with my odometer showing 101 miles, 5 hours, 40 minutes. Day well spent. I'm on vacation this week, and there are only three weeks before GMSR, so it's time to pile on the miles. I'll probably ride another hundred Monday.