Alaskan Pack Fodder

I'm sitting in the Gulfport, MS airport, waiting for the plane that will start my journey back to Alaska. I'm not usually a huge fan of flying, but in this case I'm eager to get on the plane and back to some cooler temperatures. A 40 degree shift will be most welcome.   Yesterday I did my last ride in Biloxi. I took the long way out to the local hammerfest, and immediately knew it was going to be a tough ride. The temperature and humidity that had abated the day before after a short but intense rainstorm had come back with a vengeance. I was draining two water bottles an hour, and was still reaching for more. The sweat was dripping off my face with frightening regularity.   Halfway through the group ride, the faucet really opened up, and I had solid streams running. It's been a while since I've sweated like that, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it got in my eyes and I would be blind. Not a great attribute when you're running at 25MPH in a pace

After the Kincaid Road Race was cancelled, I got on the trainer and did and hour. Shortly after that, I was... um... losing weight in a rapid and unpleasant manner. My daughter had gone all Exorcist on us Wednesday night, and I cleaned up the mess and stayed home with her. Turns out she got me with a bad strain of the Norovirus, for the second time this spring. Even after the worst was over, my guts were tied in knots and I didn't want to eat anything. That will take the edge off your performance every time.   They rescheduled the snowed-out Kincaid Road Race for Thursday, and since my guts had settled down that morning, I figured I'd see how it went. I wasn't feeling all that great, but these early season races really don't count for anything except training intensity. Plus, I had paid my entry fee already.   I wasn't planning on it, but I took a dig on the first hill to see who would follow, and ended up splitting the pack. Whoops. Didn't mean to do that s

I spent a great deal of this winter, like the last couple winters, grinding away on the trainer and dreaming of racing. A little more effort here or there might pay off the next time I came to a particular section of a race, and sometimes visualizing that moment could help me push through what could be somewhat unpleasant. That was the carrot on the stick.   The forecasts all week called for rain and chilly temperatures, and race organizers were sending out emails encouraging us to sign up for what promised to be an epic event. The course is nothing new to most of us, as I cracked severely on it only last fall during the final stage of the Tour of Anchorage. The hilly circuit race isn't really my cup of tea, and it punishes us fatter guys with repetitive, punchy climbs. It hurts, even in the best of conditions. Add in the fact that wrecks happen with some regularity at various points along the course, and you start to get the picture. A little rain and cold just makes it that muc