It's all over but the hurtin'

Another Trek Across Maine is finished, but the sore legs and the all-over body fatigue isn't. The legs still feel like cement and, even though it's Tuesday, the brain isn't working quite the way it should be (so please excuse any typos).

I had planned to hit the gym this afternoon just to get limbered up, but the couch and my Sports Illustrated sound like a better idea.

And 48 more = 166.5 miles

Biking in the rain isn't one of my favorite things, but sometimes you just have to suck it up and pedal on.

For the first time in my 3 years of Trekking I got wet. Really wet. Soaked through to the skin. It was raining lightly when we left Colby this morning and it got steadier and harder as we rolled along. The only time we got any relief was for about the last 5 miles into Belfast, but by that time 12 suns could have burst into flame in the sky and it wouldn't have mattered. There would be no drying out until the biking clothes came off.

55 more miles -- completed

Bag Balm is a wonderful invention. Let's just say it's a good thing we had an extra large tin of it and leave it at that.

And we weren't the only ones. Plenty of people we talked to were trying everything they could think of -- Bag Balm, Gold Bond powder, Chamois Butt-er -- to deal with the issues in their shorts on Day 2 of the Trek. The combo of Bag Balm and Gold Bond kept me in the seat today and I'm hoping -- what with the predicted rain -- it works again tomorrow. Gail's in rough shape. We made a special stop at Hannaford for a tube of ointment made for diaper rash but which will be used to get her through tomorrow's 49 miles.

63.5 miles -- complete

Day one. Done.

And what a day it was. Gorgeous. Not too hot, a breeze that was welcome because it kept you cool until about 15 miles out when it picked up the pace and made pedaling a little tougher. But I'm telling myself the toughest day is over. Nothing but easy riding and all downhill from here until Sunday. Of course I'm full of crap, but it helps to brainwash yourself so the hills don't look quite so big.

Happy trails!

Well Trekkers, I trust you're ready for the weekend's 180. Hopefully you've done your training and you didn't forget to pack your toothbrush.

Just remember that some parts of this ride will really suck. Mostly those will be the parts that go uphill. And there will be a lot of them. Some of the hills will look like Mt. Everest to your fatigued, sunburned, Gatorade-overloaded brain. Just remember that when you actually get to them, they won't seem nearly as big. Most of them anyway. And when you hit the finish line you'll forget all about those mountains you thought you couldn't master.

Don't forget ... anything

Tonight's packing night. Tomorrow night's traveling up to Sunday River night. Friday's the morning you'll be kicking yourself if you forgot to pack something.

So for all you Trek newcomers, and even you vets who have the route memorized, a few packing tips:

Can't you see I'm on 2 wheels?

Had an interesting experience yesterday while putting in a quick 20 miles just to keep the legs moving. I was cruising along Middle Road through Yarmouth and Cumberland at a pretty quick pace and with a nice rhythm. I was feeling great. Suddenly so ready for the Trek.

Then I felt a car slowing just off my left shoulder. It dropped its speed to match my pace and someone yelled something I couldn't make out from the window.

It pays to be prepared

So far, it doesn't look like there's any rain in the forecast for Trek weekend. Actually, it looks like it's going to be significantly cooler for the ride from the mountains to the sea than it has been the last two years.

Before I rode the Trek for the first time in 2006, all the bikers out there trying to get some exercise and do a good deed were also consistently getting wet. Like five years in a row wet. Gail's riding for what she thinks is her ninth year and she's told me about the misery of pushing out 60 miles in the rain and the cold, trying to look through rain-spattered glasses and wearing shoes that don't dry out until the Trek is long over.

Rules of the road

It was bound to happen eventually. After an early season of absolutely no troubles with idiot drivers I had my first encounter with an old curmudgeonly driver who aparently has little affection for bikes.

I was out on a nice 30-mile jaunt with about five miles to go to the finish when, coming down Rte. 22 in Scarborough I encountered some roadway that was definitely not easily navigated on two skinny wheels. I weaved my way through it and managed to stay upright but then, dead ahead, a huge pothole. One that would have certainly sent me butt over handlebars (or worse) had I ht it.

Back in the saddle

Now that's more like it. A challenging 35 miles, 2 1/2 hours in the saddle and no skimping on the hills.

The ache in my legs this morning was a great feeling — it let me know I pushed myself, just like I'll have to do next week on the three days (June 13-15) of the Trek Across Maine.

Almost Trek time

One week from today I'll be heading up to Sunday River with my riding partner, Gail Fitzmaurice, for the start of the Trek Across Maine.

Who can even wait?

You may not have been able to hear the thick sarcasm in the previous sentence, but believe me, it was definitely there. For some reason, this year, neither Gail nor I are pumped up for the ride.

Blinded by the landscaper

When I talk about the routes I ride on my bike -- through Portland or Gorham, down busy Rte. 100, up 202 and down 22 -- people wonder why I'm not in fear for my life with all the cars whizzing by. But, truthfully, you forget about the cars as soon as your crotch starts to hurt. And you get used to them as soon as you've been out and about a few times and figured out how to escape from your pedals before you're in the middle of an intersection. (You get used to the crotch hurt, too)

Here's what you really have to worry about: