The Trek Across Maine: an infomercial

Have you ever:

Needed some time away?

Wanted to see the state of Maine up close and personal?

Liked the idea of other people feeding you constantly and telling you that you're awesome?

Wanted to do some good?

Come to know sensitive spots on your bottom you didn't know existed?

Then you must sign up for the 2017 Trek Across Maine!!

Disclaimer: all the fun shown here was true and actual fun. These are real people, not actors. Any personal discomforts on a bike seat, couple disagreements through remote parts of Maine regarding their pedaling speed (no one shall be named) or stress about actually leaving your children for 4 days on their last day of school have been omitted for two reasons. One, they were not photographed (who needs to see that?) and, two, that is real life and, let's face it, we all have plenty of that. 

It's all good when you finally get your bike and all your gear on the bus that will take you all the way over to the start line in Western Maine at Sunday River ski resort and you can just hang out in the sun and wait for it to be time to leave. 

Now, I am a big baby about the 3 hour bus ride because I don't like buses and I get really car sick. BUT, we got smart this year and downloaded a movie to the iPad, packed pillows, a blanket and some snacks and enjoyed the fact that someone else was driving. I said to Sandi, "So THIS is what it is like for our kids to travel!"

It was super fun... until I got car sick and had to take a nap. The last 30 minutes of that ride are a slow torture for me as I fight the urge to muscle the bus driver out of his seat and take the wheel.

The Trek Across Maine has raised over $22 million for the American Lung Association in its 32 years, raising over $1.2 million this year alone. The fundraising minimum is only $600 which is totally doable. There's the part where you get to feel amazing for having done some good and also have the fun of riding your bike!

Two thousand trekkers, hundreds of volunteers and endless amounts of gatorade and peanut butter and banana sandwiches to propel us the 180 miles across the state. But first, we had to get our bikes to the start.

 It is fun to see a mountain you've skied wearing its summer clothes.

Our friend, Alissa, who was one of Maya's ski guides last year with Maine Adaptive. She rides the Trek as a medic (seems she is a perpetual do-gooder and we love her for it) with trusty bags of equipment on her bike to help any cyclists in need along the way.  Just one of the hundreds of people that make this ride possible (but one of our favorite ones).

Who doesn't love a ski/bear claw chair?

Our friend Kristi took this picture from the second floor when she saw us sitting together in the lobby. Thank you Kristi!  

This year a group of Sandi's colleagues formed a Trek Team so we (sadly) left our very wonderful Gold's Gym team to join them. I love the clever name Stacey came up with, "Sleep Cycles", for a group of anesthesia providers. Sandi did a great job designing the jerseys and we got a ton of compliments on them! (Our teammate Frank was unfortunately not present for this photo.)

Sandi and I raised close to $1,500 for the American Lung Association and our brand new team raised a total of $6,500.  That is the best feeling. I can't wait to see what we can accomplish next year!

The collar of the jersey's say, "Go to sleep with the best." 

 The weather promised to be four days of perfection which was a tremendous bonus after riding in the monsoon that was day 3 of the Trek of 2015.  

We were ready to ride!

This is the part of my infomercial where I don't have to tell you, I can show you, and you realize that Maine is so freaking beautiful that you HAVE to ride the Trek.

 These notes are everywhere, including at some rest stops, on the porta potties.

 Seriously, I could use a station like this in my everyday life.

 On the road into Farmington (the end of the 70 miles of day 1) we have the pleasure of embarking on a jaunt through a town in typical Maine fashion. The town of Chesterville, ME must be shaped like a spider because we pass through it 16 different times. Or maybe only 4. It is a lot for such a small town. I like to call it is the cat and mouse game of Chesterville. Now you're in it and1 mile later you're not except...wait, here it comes again.

We have an expression in Maine, "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes." I feel this should apply to Chesterville. "If you think you have left Chesterville, wait 500 feet."

(I was not successful in photographing all of the signs- I'm riding a bike for goodness sake- but I did get two of them.)

Did I mention the cheering? Who doesn't love to have people cheering for you on the side of the road? Especially when they are adorable. There were even kids that had a free lemonade stand for the trekkers. 

 Day two started out cool and beautiful. There are so many friendly faces we see now that we have been doing the Trek for a few years and the camaraderie of this massive group of cyclists is so fun. Our team member Luc, who just bought a road bike 3 weeks before the Trek, was decked out in style for his ride.

 Again with the beauty.

Frank, me, Raf and Sandi all found each other at one of the rest stops.

 We got chatting with this guy, Bill, who had been doing the Trek for 20 years and has his own permanent trekker number (Sandi's lucky number, 22). Turns out he also has 9 lives, having survived being hit by a truck on his bike several years ago and surviving an IED attack while serving in the middle east. He is also a total badass who cycled the Mount Washington auto road race: 7.5 miles up the mountain on a mostly gravel road at an age somewhere north of 60 I would guess.

These are the kind of awesome people you too will meet on the Trek when you do it next year.

Like this guy who is on the side of the road cheering trekkers on donning a purple sequin beard, knee socks and a boom box. We had seen him the day before in a silver sequined beard and matching shirt that looked like thousands of diamonds when the sun hit it. 

The whole team at Colby College at the end of day 2. (I am not in my cycling gear because as soon as I get off my bike the first thing I want to do is take those clothes off.)

 Every year the person holding the question mark is my favorite. This woman listened to my tale of woe in Farmington about how there was no longer iced coffee at the finish line. After you ride 70 miles, coffee is kind of essential. She felt very badly to not know where to send us. Not ones to rest when caffienation is on the line, we finally found some on campus and went back to tell her. She was so thankful that we had figured it out so she would have the answer for other trekkers (after all she is holding the question mark).

When we got to Colby on the second day and I saw her I asked, "Where is the iced coffee?" and she laughed and said, "Where it was yesterday! In Farmington!"

 Saturday night, dinner out!

And then before you know it, you only have 56 miles to go and you head out for day 3 and find your way to the ocean hoping the day doesn't go too fast.

Our teammate Stacey and Sandi

A typical rest stop

In addition to all of the usual delights at the rest stops (trail mix, oranges, apples, fluffanutters, PBJ, PB and banana sandwiches, all manner of granola bars, etc), this year there was the addition of the totally delectable Bixby Bar. The company, founded by a young Maine woman, has its factory in Rockland, Maine and their product line is a huge up and comer on the health-food market and among foodies given the unique and high quality ingredients. The Bixby Bar was the talk of the Trek. My favorite was the Bing Cherry Chipotle Peanut bar. I've never had anything like it. 

We saw this guy throughout the Trek and, although we never did learn the significance of the hot pink tutu, we wanted a picture with him. 

 The last 10 miles of the Trek for me are some of the best of the ride. The route takes us on rolling back roads and the other cyclists (at least the ones we generally ride with) are happy and playful as we take turns passing each other on tired legs. Typically we pass the men on the hills and they smoke us with their momentum on the downhill so there is a lot of banter.

I spend these miles feeling immensely grateful and wishing time would slow down so it didn't have to be over yet. That is how much I love this ride and this time with my truly amazing wife.

 Every year Sandi says, "I am going to train more next year so it will be more fun for me." And every spring life and work infer and she ends up doing only a couple of longer rides before the Trek. This year she didn't even get in the one 50 mile ride we always make sure to do. But, luckily, she is in amazing shape and can, somehow, hammer out 180 miles with a smile on her face.

I'm not sure what point I am trying to make here but as much as I wanted to delete this picture, it is too quintessential to not include it.

 My mom surprised us at the finish line! She has been there almost every year (minus last year's monsoon) but I didn't think she would come this year. She has a little bit of Trek fever I think. The finish line is such a buzz of excitement and celebration and every person that comes across it must feel like they are incredible.

You want to do it now right? You want to have all this fun and do something good? You want to meet cool people and get better acquainted with your under carriage? You don't have to be a fitness buff or even an avid cyclists. You can train to ride and take your time and be part of this truly phenomenal event. You will thank yourself.

You are going to sign up immediately and then go buy yourself a Bixby Bar to celebrate.  Right?

Iced coffee in Belfast!

The 2015 Trek Across Maine, a.k.a. The Feast Across Maine

The end of school means two things: an 18 Wheeler Sundae (18 scoops of ice cream!) at Dysart's on the last day for these four and the Trek Across Maine.  

The Trek Across Maine is a 3 day, 180 mile bike ride across Maine which raises a ton of money for the American Lung Association.  In 31 years, the Trek has raised over $22 million!  And, while that is a very noble reason to partake and to hit all your people up for cash, the Trek is just so much fun for the participants that it is easy to forget that you are being at all altruistic.

Plus they feed you steady for 3 days.  

As we woke up in Sunday River on the morning of the first day, we were gambling with the weather forecast which called for overnight rain and departing morning showers.  We decided we would leave later than normal to try to avoid the rain, which also meant riding in more congested conditions than we prefer.  The sun emerged from the clouds as we pulled our bikes from the bike corral and we were patting ourselves on the back for our good planning.  We checked our tires for air, filled up our water bottles and got in line at the start.  There were so many cyclists that they released them in waves so as to avoid a pile up on the downhill road off the mountain.  We were 3 waves back when some rather threatening rain clouds slid over the mountain.  I believe I said, "They need to let us go now or we are going to get wet."

Start line- 3 waves deep

A couple of fat rain drops gave way to a downpour.  All we could do was stand there as it poured down on us.  Within moments every part of me was soaking.  It was rather a profound moment of surrender, actually, as I realized there was nothing I could do, nowhere I could go, or anyway to prevent what was happening.  I was just going to be wet.  After the mandatory 10 minutes in between waves, we were released and as I clicked my feet into my pedals, my socks sloshed in puddles of water and the water kicked up from my tires soaked my padded shorts.

This was right before we got wet.

Day one is the longest day, but also the easiest.  With very little climbing, it tends to be a fast ride.  But just as I began to get past the wet diaper feeling in my shorts, we hit an intense head wind that made me feel like someone was holding me at the forehead while I leaned in and flailed my arms uselessly.  There was a new part of the route on a newly paved road with a river ribboning through that was simply stunning.   But the wind made for an intense ride and rather stiff neck and shoulders from bracing against it.   Nearly 70 miles later, we arrived in Farmington, chaffed and desperate to get our still wet shorts off.

Day two dawned bright and chilly (46 degrees!) and we set out at our usual early bird time to beat riding with the crowd.  These are the days that make cycling part of my soul.

Day two is many trekkers favorite day, a 56 mile meander on back roads through pastoral landscapes that are the backbone of Maine.  It was sunny and sparkly and perfect this year, made all the more sweet by the ever more dooming weather forecasted for day three.

It was fun to take pictures of ourselves and text them to the girls.

Day two also happens to end at Colby College and all the promises of fun at Tent City where teams can gather and hang out, playing games, eating and listening to live music all afternoon.  This year we had an amazing group of volunteers who decorated and brought all the food and drinks we had organized before we left.  They were awesome!

(My friend Sara felt badly that my box of veggie burgers didn't make it and she offered to drive to the store and get us a box.  "It will take me 5 minutes!" she insisted.  So I said yes and gave her some money.  Fifty minutes later, and a headache of traffic later, she returned with the best veggie burger I may have had in my life.  You rock Sara!!)

Team Gold's Gym is rather awesome.

Team Gold's Gym!

overnight bike storage

I need to say a few things about Trek volunteers.  This event, truly the best example of a well-oiled machine that I have witnessed, brags over 750 volunteers.  With somewhere around 2,000 trekkers that is a very high ratio of participant to volunteer.  And when I use the word "volunteer", I really should be using the word "superstar".  I cannot adequately describe the manner in which these folks help out.  Not only are they around every corner asking what you need or pointing which direction to turn on the route while shaking a cowbell, they also say "thank you" to you countless times a day:  "Thank you for all you do!" "Thank you for riding!"  "Thank you! You're awesome!"

I'm telling you, the volunteers treat the trekkers like royalty.  In fact, I woke up this morning and flipped the laundry and no one told me I was awesome.  It was rather disappointing.

And there was this:

"Do you have a ?"

 I want one of these in my daily life.  Please.

All the perfection of day two promised to give way to a very wet day three.  The weather forecasted a 100% chance of rain.  There was a single hour (from 7-8 am) that looked to be showers instead of pouring rain so we decided to hit the road early.   Sandi began using her Macgyver mind to strategize ways to delay the onset of the wet.

This brings me to the alternate title to this post:  An adhoc analysis of the common plastic bag as a water barrier.

We began to gather the various bags we had in our possession:  Ziplocs , plastic grocery bags, thin produce plastic bags and a single trash bag.  Sandi decided if we had some more trash bags we could keep our cores dryer longer, thus potentially keeping us warmer.  I went to the front desk at the Hampton Inn.  Turns out the Hampton Inn staff is very sympathetic to the about-to-be-soaked cyclist.   The lady at the front desk was more than accommodating hooking us up with various forms of plastic.

Here's what we did:  we birthed our heads and arm out of very tight holes in trash bags which we then tucked into our bike shorts.  We put put baggies over our socks and tied them tightly before slipping them into our clip shoes.  We put the hotel's shower caps and plastic grocery bags over our helmets in an attempt to keep our heads dry.  We put our phones in Ziplocs.  We also put all our dry, post-ride clothes in two layers of bags inside our luggage in case our luggage got wet.  It was pouring outside.

4:15 A.M. and I am wearing a trash bag

When we had packed early Thursday this rain had not yet been forecasted and so we were not well prepared.  Sandi at least had packed long pants and long fingered gloves in case of cold but I had just shorts and standard, fingerless bike gloves.   The temperature was supposed to be around 55 so I figured I would be uncomfortable but safe.

I've always understood that attitude matters.  I know that my outlook on anything from waking up on the morning to taking on a tough task dramatically affects the outcome.  But I think I learned it even more profoundly on Sunday morning.  When we made the decision to ride,  we understood there was no chance that we would not be wet and uncomfortable.  I knew it was a matter of what I did with the experience.  I could bemoan it and fight against it or I could just go with it and try to enjoy it.

After all, despite the fact that it is a little bit painful to be wet for 4 hours, this is not a real problem. We were on a long distance bike ride on a weekend without kids, with bodies able to complete the task.  We spoke to a couple of volunteers over the weekend who used to ride but hurt their bodies and now they help out to still be a part of the event.  We were lucky enough to get to ride and dammit I was going to figure out how to enjoy it.

By far the worst part of the morning was just getting wet.  If you've ever had this experience, you know what I mean.    As the water made its way through my clothes and onto my skin, it was hard not to brace against it.  The bags on my feet did nothing and my socks were drenched in the first couple of miles.  The shower cap on my helmet kept the water off my head and allowed me to keep some body heat.  The trash bag under my wind breaker seemed to be doing its job.  My padded shorts were a wet diaper once again.

Everyone we saw I said, "Good morning!" or "Have a great ride!" because why not?  I smiled and, at Sandi's suggestion, kept a constant litany of what I was grateful for.  It totally worked.  I felt content and happy and wet.

The hilly miles of day three kind of flew by. I was grateful for every climb because it kept me warm.  My biggest struggle was that my hands were so numb it was hard to use them to shift gears and my feet were so numb that standing to climb made me feel like I had pegs for legs. We chose to stop at only one of the three rest stops because we knew stopping and getting cold would be the kiss of death.  Trying to pull down soaked bike shorts to pee with hands that worked like claws was a feat in itself.

And do you know what those amazing volunteers had for us?  HOT CHOCOLATE.  Hot chocolate with freaking mini marshmallows.

At one point, as the course moved onto a back road and the delicious smell of wood smoke had its way with my brain I found myself thinking insane thoughts.  I bet they have heat in there.  All I would need it a dry bathrobe or blanket. I would even settle for a towel.  I could take all my clothes off and sit in a towel by their fire.  I'm sure they wouldn't mind. 

Which brings me back to the volunteers.  Looking at it fairly, what they were doing that day was much harder than what I was doing.  I would be utterly miserable huddled in a poncho on a folding chair at an intersection in the rain for hours on end to make sure cyclists took the correct turn.  In fact, I would be frozen.  Riding in the rain seemed far less difficult than sitting in the rain ringing a cowbell.  I love those people for doing it, for ringing those cowbells and telling me I was awesome, despite their own probable dreams of wood fires and hot coffee.  I made sure to thank each and every one of them.

There was no waiting and riding across the finish line with our team this year.  There was no slow victory ride into Belfast, more like a mad dash across the finish line so we could go seek shelter.   We got in very early and yet there were still volunteers and spectators there cheering to beat the band.  

I look like the marshmallow man because of the trash bag under my jacket.  I cannot comment on why Sandi does not. 

When we got off our bikes a guy said, "I hope we didn't beat the luggage trucks here."  I had a momentary panic of what might happen to me if I couldn't get dry soon.  As we made our way to the luggage tent and saw all the bags, carefully placed on tarps to keep the rain off them, neatly arranged in their organized rows so trekkers could find them, I was overcome with gratitude.  I gave the woman in charge a huge hug and thanked her and she had tears in her eyes.

Now don't you want to do the Trek???

I can tell you that the second hardest part of the day (the first being actually getting wet) was the period of time between stopping and getting dry.  There were some logistics of getting luggage, getting a shuttle to our car (we had made the decision not to put on dry clothes until we could stay dry and our umbrellas were in our car) and such that left me a bit panicked that I was going have a medical event I was shivering so uncontrollably.  But a volunteer gave us each one of those aluminum foil-looking survival blankets and it did the trick.

I was so proud to see later that so many of our team members took on the challenge of the ride that day!  What a tough group of people.

Drying by the fire

For the girls the Trek Across Maine is all about the weekend at their grandparents and the medals they didn't earn!

We are already signed up for next year.  If this event is even remotely within your reach, do yourself a favor and give it a go.  The Trek attracts all sorts: from varying ages and fitness levels and riding speeds.  The one common denominator is that trekkers know how to have FUN.  People are so relaxed and happy and there is so much support to help people succeed!  Where else can you ride your bike, have people feed you constantly and shlep your bags around?

Have I convinced you yet?

It makes me sad every year when it is over.   So until next time...