The rules of engagement

Boston, bright and sunny ...

Greetings! Welcome to This Old Jock, my new-fangled blog and a clearinghouse for all things regarding the aging athlete (as my wife Lauri likes to say, "I don't have to worry about Brion's second childhood until he's finished with his first!"). Essentially, I hope to build a community, where athletes of all stripes, regardless of age and ability, can share words of wisdom and humorous anecdotes about their endeavors. Please bear with me while I get up to speed on the technology front (I'm the proverbial "old dog" trying to learn new tricks, I'm afraid). But, much like playing the games, it's all about getting in the arena, so I'm diving in and hope to get a better handle on things along the way.

It's mid-May, 2009, and I'm working on a few stories regarding the inaugural BUMPS Challenge (Bike Up the Mountain Points Series) here in New England. The Challenge is a pretty intriguing project, combining nine classic cycling hill-climb races in four different states, including the granddaddy of them all – the Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb in New Hampshire – as well as the Equinox in southern Vermont and Whiteface in New York. The timing couldn't be better, as the assignments are forcing me to acknowledge the fact that my annual date with The Rockpile (our preferred sobriquet for Mount Washington) is only three months away, and I've been on the bike exactly three times this spring. My hockey addiction routinely gets in the way of my cycling regimen, and this year has been no different. However, after struggling mightily on the Auto Road in 2008, I'm determined to give a better showing this year (as it is, my daughters refused to join me, since I apparently "take forever to get up the mountain," according to my straight-talking youngest, Brynne).

Coincidentally, the accompanying photo was snapped near the finish line atop Mount Washington, during the 2006 race. It's one of my favorites, if only because I just happen to be passing a racer clad in yellow (Brynne thinks I'm dropping Lance Armstrong!). Talk about serendipity, not to mention photographic sleight of hand! In reality, it was a painful experience, as my lower back went into spasm shortly after the road tilted up (which, if you're familiar with Mount Washington, is almost immediately). I didn't learn my lesson two years later (the 2007 event was cancelled due to severe weather), when I again arrived at the start line woefully out of shape. And The Rockpile doesn't suffer fools kindly. For the next two hours and 15 minutes, I lugged my carcass up the serpentine, 7.6-mile road at a glacial pace, gamely trying to turn over the pedals while trying to keep from going off the deep end. Sunshine at the base had given away to blustery winds above treeline, and the hail started with just under a mile to go. I finished, barely, and nearly keeled over trying to get off my bike, suffering from hypothermia and muscle cramps.

This year, I swear, will be different. After all, hope springs eternal, which is the only reason I can imagine that anyone would keep signing up for these things. So I'm heading out for a spin, to see if I can loosen up my legs. Twelve weeks and counting! Please feel free to join in the ride; the more voices, the richer the dialogue!

Best,
-Brion