Number nine, number nine…

I wish I could honestly say I was humming the Beatles “Revolution Number Nine” while skating my ninth A2A but it just didn’t happen. Though I can say that nine times is the charm. What with a 14mph tail wind and a decision to just skate to finish and the clock be damned; I had the easiest time I’ve ever had on the roads of Georgia. OK, in some respects it was the hardest time on the roads of Georgia because man were some of the downhills rough. Now you would think that flats and uphills would kill you when the road if rough, well how do you feel about 30 mph plus downhill and the road surface has you bouncing so your glasses are falling off. OK, so I exaggerate, but that’s why you read my posts, isn’t it?


The race started off in typical fashion, Eddy was wearing a Tai Barn Costume that he raced in for the first 10 yards of the event. This is really my kind of start, the gun goes off and everybody waits for the folks in front, no hurry, no worry. What kills me is that first hill out of town, there are skaters all over the road, too early for pace lines, and we’re going fast, my wheels are humming, I’m not awake and the road keeps getting steeper. About two miles out of town we make a left hand turn to a small climb and I’m starting to breath heavy and I haven’t even started to skate. I’m thinking, “How can I ever do this? I’m already tired!” Then things calm down and we get down to some skating. By this time folks have found their pace lines or are moving a bit faster to catch up to one.

So if you’ve read Larry’s great account of his race you’ll remember that early on there is a two-mile winding downhill where your speed continues to build and you have no clue were it will end. Larry’s description gave me a chuckle because we flat landers have no experience on real downhills and with this one coming so early in the race, with the pace lines long and the speeds high, it sends heart rates soaring and makes most of the other hills (bigger then Big Granite) seem downright manageable. Well I took that hill with plenty of trepidation as my boots this year are not customs, and subsequently fit less snug. I find it takes three or four hills for me to get use to the speeds and relax. Try it sometime you’ll see what I mean.

Funny thing, the miles didn’t seem to affect me this year, sure they hurt but thanks to some talk with Jan I was not cramping. (Thanks Jan!) When parts of my feet started to hurt I changed my foot work, when the pack moved too slowly up hill I found a way to slowdown. I did have to skate a very smart race though. See I’m on 100’s and most everyone else is on 110’s. So they would move slower uphill and faster down. So if I wasn’t in the middle of the pack starting down, I’d be playing catch up on the swing back up. Believe me, I had plenty of time to figure this out.

There were less police at intersections this year, but at the spots were it really mattered they were there. In Atlanta there was some really rough road for a block or so which almost brought me to a complete stop. As always, the finish line is a party of its own with everyone just happy to be still standing. Afterwards the feeling of accomplishment is unparalleled to anything else I do, and the glow emanating off of first time finishers is unmistakable as they enter into an elite family of skaters. Oh, and it always helps to have attractive help with your boots after an event like this. Thanks Jess!

Soon the glow wears off and one notices another unyielding thought. "I’M HUNGRY!" And I knew just what to do about it. Three miles from the finish I was stood up by the smell of Bar-B-Que and the smell did not disappoint. Fox Bros. is along one of the rougher parts of the route and as we sat there lapping up the sauce, skaters continued to struggle by still trying to get to the finish line. I’m not quite sure what they yelled back at me as I sat on the patio with my drink and my sticky fingers. I’m sure it was well wishes.

Finally, as if that wasn't enough, here is a video I shot along the way.

Is Eight Enough?

Planning, preparations and training all seemed to be on track for what I’ve privately been saying is my 8th and final lap through hell and back, uh, did I say that out loud? I meant to say Athens to Atlanta Road Skate. Everything was a go except for a raw spot on my ankle where my boot cuff rubs. The addition of eZeefit ankle liners helped tremendously in Duluth, but then those of us who know, know that A2A is not Duluth so I so gearing up for a few hot spots. Oh yeah, one other tiny problem, Cale kicked my butt the previous Sunday out at Sears as we did three “easy laps” in the wind that for me were anything but easy. I was walking stooped over with back pain right up to the night before flying into Atlanta. Go figure.

All week the weather report was improving for race day and when it came down to it, in my 7 previous races there, I have never seen a better combination of temps and winds. It was cool most of the day with 3 to 5 mph tail winds and cloudy for the first 30 miles or so. Very sweet conditions, however. . . when you’re not sweating, but you’re still drinking what needs being done? More on that later.


Enough weather talk, back to skating. Race day arrives after a pleasant day in Athens. Athens exits for skaters to eat, toss and turn in bed and break in the legs as they walk up the hill in the dark towards the starting line.


This by far was the smallest group I’d seen at the start, however when the horn blew the crowd on the street leaving downtown Athens seemed just as dense. After a quick couple of turns the lack of skaters was obvious as the four lane road was more than ample to maneuver and group up. Right away the rookies got a taste of the Georgia
hills as the main road out of town slants down and curves under a railroad track. Nothing steep about this downgrade, but at about the time when a good Midwesterner would be saying to him or herself, hey that was fun, they start to notice that their skates are steadily humming a higher and higher pitch. But the fun ends soon enough and with a left turn onto a short climb the day begins.

At this point Cale has gone ahead to scout the road for us with his Fossil friends so Margo, John Silker, Ken Huss and I group together with about 15-20 other skaters in an attempt to hold down the middle of the race. As John let us know early and often, his strategy was, “To start slow then slowly taper.” Which by the way is a very good strategy. John was actively channeling his 3rd grade student joke book for most of the first half of the race. By mile 40 – 50 however John was saving his breath along with the rest of us. What was it John, the silence or the groaning that tipped you off?

For those who haven’t been there I can say it is the later hills that invade your night time sleep, but early on I was struggling. I could tell something was different this year, maybe I was paying too much attention to those around me as I was aware that Margo and Ken were on their first attempt. I tried not to coach too much, but when you have a 2 mile downhill with a bridge and surface change at the bottom, you want to let the person in front of you know that the transition is smooth, no braking necessary. Anyway it seemed the early hills were really eating into me. It could only mean that I had had too good a night’s sleep. See most years I lay in bed, up all night fretting, once out on the course nothing is as bad as I imagined it. This time it was all harder than I expected. If I ever go back I’m planning on staying up all night worrying.


About ten miles in and our group is whittled down to about 8 or 10 skaters, most of us doing the full distance. Margo, John, Ken and I are casually spread out in the group as the pace uphill is manageable and the recovery time on the longish downhills adequately rejuvenating. We have already been passing the prerequisite number of folks that have been dropped by their packs ahead or thought better of the pace they were skating but we did not expect to spot a friendly pony tail hanging out in the middle of the road. Cale is skating circles in the road waiting for us to come along and as expected he easily jumps on our group with the explanation that the fast group is “out of their minds” with the pace they are setting and he knew that wasn’t for him. Several in our pack know Cale from the Montreal 24 hour event and it was now a real fun gathering. With us were Karin Chamberlain, who set a new solo woman’s record in Montreal and long time A2A’er and Montreal’er Luke Sawh.

As we climb closer and closer to Dacula and the 38 “half way” finish line, the hills get steeper and I’m beginning to think that I quit doing A2A one year too late. This was getting hard. Just before the 30 mile mark and the second water stop Ken starts to cramp up. Let’s give the guy some credit here; two weeks ago he finished the NYC 100k. If he wants to cramp, let him cramp. But that is serious business on these hills and he pulled out at 30 miles. Ken isn’t our only casualty, a few miles later I hear a call to hold up as we’re stretching out and I can’t believe it when I hear it’s Cale falling back. Karin is the first to offer that we all stop and let him regroup; that’s the kind of event this is. Cale will have none of it and assures Margo that he will be fine but that he is dropping out. We continue on without him and there is silence in the pack for a number of miles. I know many of us were dreading having to go up the next set up hills into Dacula and in Cale’s condition they must have really hurt. Ken and Cale it wasn’t the same race without you guys and seeing you there to cheer us on at rest stop four really lifted out spirits.


The miles wore on and the friendly nature of our group never wavered. Many of us needed to slow a bit to “cook” while still skating. After each water stop I needed to empty two packs of powder into each new 16 oz bottle of water, an interesting juggling act while skating yet no one ever attacked after a water stop. I even lost a bottle and two others offered theirs. And were we tired? Back at mile 30 I noticed the first cramps starting as I tucked to fly down a hill, by mile 50 I was using every opportunity to stretch out my legs, on the downhills I would pick up each knee several times, like doing a high step, on the uphills I would move out of line and take real long slow strokes. More often than not this meant I ended up pulling ahead up the hills, no guys I wasn’t feeling strong, I was trying not to fall over. I do have a physical record of how I was feeling however. I caught a photo of the time clock in Dacula as we passed by, 2:36 – we were shooting for 2:30 so not bad. The next photo I have is of the Atlanta city limits. The camera sat in its case for almost 40 miles, now that’s tired.

Along the way there were plenty of other close calls and other risqué behavior. One officer of the law stood leaning on his car watching us desperately braking down a hill to avoid running a red light at a four lane highway, one skater hit the deck to keep from shooting into traffic and the officer just continued to text or email without missing a beat. Another pair of officers pulled their squad out into a busy street to stop traffic and as we hit the intersection a pickup blasts through across our path. It’s very hard to start up that big hill in front of you when you’ve almost become road kill. Other times the group would be separated up a hill and the first one down would not be in the pace line. Sometimes you could yell “pushing” and help them down, other times the pack would shoot by you like you were standing still and then you would have to struggle to catch on. More times then not the pace line would continue to accelerate up hill and we once came close to topping one hill and starting down another without a single stride. Almost.

The miles wore on and the water bottles kept emptying and where was all that liquid going? Most Rainbo team members have an inkling by now that Margo can let it all hang out just as easily as any of the boys; hey where was Karin at this point? Anyway I can attest there was no peeking; except maybe out of the suburban Atlanta windows at this horde of colorful figures "watering" their lawn and their trees.



By now it is common knowledge that the course was a few miles longer do to a detour. That road was tough going over rough pavement and some steep hills. I think I was beginning to have words with my own higher power about this time; something about deliverance I believe. There is also the pure act of faith which is the railroad track at the bottom of a another of the very steep hills. There is no way that it looks as smooth as the tracks here in Chicago, but fly over it every time we do. Thank you lord, for a brief half a second once a year I knew exactly where you are. Of course Silver Hill is Silver Hill, manageable, but long, fast and not to be attempted in a pack. Not by me at least.

Those last few miles in Atlanta are always “entertaining.” What with the two or three miles of gatorback that I never told Margo about. I figured our feet are going to be hurting anyway, why worry a rookie. Then there was the sidewalk to cross and the cops who did such a great job stopping all the traffic, except the pedestrians were looking at them and not at the line of skaters about to cross their path. We could smell the plastic of their baby strollers and the Sunday bunch on their breath as we passed through them and onto the last stretch of road home.

Ah, but the old body wasn’t finished with me yet; suddenly there was a police siren which sounded like it was directly behind us, I tried to look back and as I did my right leg collapsed. I got it back under me but it wouldn’t support my weight and just like in Duluth, there was a tree there to save me. In an area of nothing but concrete one square had been cut out and filled with wood chips and a sapling. Man trees are hard! I tried to get up but the leg still wouldn’t hold, that and I was now turned around facing Athens, no way was I going back that way. In the few seconds it took to get started again the group was down the slope making the right turn into traffic. At least no one turned around to yell, “See ya sucker!” As the attempted escapees became entangled in the bit of traffic at the last big crossing, I was able to catch up. Yeah, now the legs were hurting, but then there was the finish line calling and I could think of nothing better then to choose where next to sit down.

The finish was a joy; seven of us came across in a group signifying that we wished to be scored a tie; that is not before Margo needed a friendly reminder to slow down a bit. Always the competitor, as we entered the park, for maybe the first time all day Margo was leading. To her credit however I’ll wager her feet wanted her done more dearly then her heart wanted one higher place in the rankings. We were very happy to see Ken and Cale at the finish, as well as Marcy and let us not forget Kathy with the cooler of beer for those that needed it. Did anybody not need a beer after that?



Before the beer must come the taking off of the skates. Here Kathy lets Renee take on the job only another skater should attempt. (At least when they've been on for more than 6 hours.) And at what other event do they offer free slippers, yes there were decorated slippers for finishers. Awesome.

Chicagoland Inline Marathon

I don’t normally write about the view from the middle of the standings as most the action takes place ahead of me, and most of the fun happens behind me in the tutu division. No offense to the tutu wearers either, it’s fun to skate back there; lot’s more time for conversation. This race however is a different story. The combination of a very technical course (lots of turns) with a large field of skaters at, or just above, my ability made for an exciting race.

From the start I decide that I was going to give up on being overly cautious and try to fight my way into a good position at the gun. That was easier said then done as fella’s like John Silker and Ken Huss are busy moving through all the open spots before they close up. Each of them are deftly maneuvering through the aggressive crowd of skaters and it takes the first uphill after a left-hand turn for me to latch onto Ken’s group. John is long gone. I’m going to have to continue to work on those starts.

The course is challenging but manageable, the biggest unknown though is how will the skaters around me handle the turns? It quickly becomes obvious that few of the outdoor skaters in my pack cornering down very well, and the indoor skaters are unfamiliar with uphill or downhill 90 degree turns. This turns out to be an advantage for me later in the race. The first lap of the course was, as always for me, very hard. I normally have to push through some sort of muscle barrier at about the 12- 15 minute mark. The second and third lap passed pretty much without incident, however we did pick up and then drop Tom D'ellaringa but it was all of his own making. Instead of getting onto the back of our pack, he took the lead, ALL THE WAY UP THE HILL. Thanks man, but next time think of yourself a little bit.

It was in the forth lap that things got interesting. I pulled through to the round-about in the AT&T grounds and then pulled off, but suddenly my legs wouldn’t move anymore. I tried to hang on but couldn’t. The train was leaving the station and I had to stand up for a breath. I pushed on but it wouldn’t come. Then I just started skating and looked up. The pack wasn’t pulling away, but I wasn’t gaining. So I took it easy, knowing that I cornered better than the pack, plus I was still climbing easier then they were. So they went around the right hand turn out of AT&T and I gained a bit on my turn. Then they started up the hill and I put my head down and closed the 20 yards between us as we climbed up hill, getting to the pack just as they slowed for the 180 turn back down. I was glad to take that turn slow and wasn't complaining about being at the back. I still had a hard time keeping the legs moving on the down hill however and had to coast a bit. This opened a gap again which I was hoping the Team “Speed Weevil” skater behind me would come around and fill so I could continue to recover. No going, but we where coming up onto another turn. As the pack takes it wide I, like a good indoor skater should, cut the turn and end up right on the wheel of the pack once again. At this point I hear complements from the skater behind me for the slick move. We are again heading uphill and this time I sit in the pack and get some recovery going.

The final lap then is uneventful expect for the pain and the noticeably shorter pulls. I’m now tucked in with a female Flanders skater that I was unable to find after the race. As we came around the last turn into the uphill finish my turning ability allowed me to place myself in the middle of the pack, just out of the wind. Two thirds of the way up the hill I think "it’s now or never" and jumping out, I get low and take the rest of the hill taking the pack by surprise. Then noticing a single skater between me and the finish I can hear Tommy, our announcer say, “We’ve got a little sprint here.”



Glenn Koshi’s shot captures my “sprint” form – that’s me on the right. Not much to look at but it did the trick. I won the sprint with a little hawk at the finish, to my horror though I look down for the line and watch as I shoot out my right foot, its then I notice my chip is on the other ankle. Still, while our times are identical I’m listed ahead in the standings. And that’s the story from the middle of the pack where there still can be a bit of drama if you look for it. Happy skating.