I've been remiss in my weekly 'three beautiful things' post - mostly because Thursdays are no longer beautiful for me with 9 hours spent in a classroom working my brain around concepts like cavitation and ultrasound waves or concentric and eccentric muscle contractions.

Here are a few high points from last week:

1) As I head out for my early morning run, my headlamp scans the grass on the side of the road...and the grass sparkles back at me, thick with frost, but only on the top layer.

2) The smell of wild grapes warming in the sunshine as I run past makes me smell the color purple...and I cannot resist the urge to buy grape juice later that day.

3) On my long run, I veer off onto a road that I normally reserve for cycling. The road looks completely different when viewed from this slower pace and lower place, and my risk-taking pays off with great views and friendly neighbors.

This summer, my lack of marathon training left me with the opportunity to experiment with some new fueling tactics. Serendipitously, I was one of the 'chosen ones' offered free Accelerade in exchange for my membership to the Accelerade Edge as well as some public feedback posted to my blog about their new ready-to-drink product.

As you may have read on other blogs, Accelerade is now available pre-mixed in 20-ounce bottles with four flavors to chose from: citrus grapefruit, peach mango, fruit punch and mountain berry. The science behind their product is the carb to protein ratio (4:1) aids in muscle repair and increased hydration.

I had already been tapped by them before to try their powder, which I grew to like during marathon training last winter. With the powder, I found that it needed to be cold in order to have a more enjoyable drinking experience. Once it got the drink got warm, the taste deteriorated and I struggled to gag it down.

I had high hopes for the ready-to-drink stuff. It seemed to have everything going for it: no mixing, no gritty residue and interesting flavors to choose from...just grab, go, drink.

I decided to use Accelerade on the bike this time, as that was where I was spending most of my time, and thus, expending most of my energy. Each week on my long ride, I'd try a different flavor. I thought I'd like the citrus grapefruit and peach mango flavors best, so I tried those first. My thought process was that those two flavors would not be as sweet, so I'd like them better.

I was wrong. First, let me say to all manufacturers of things 'mango' flavored. STOP. PLEASE. I have YET to taste anything 'mango' flavored that actually TASTES like mango. Usually, it has a flavor that reminds me of the smell of cat urine. GROSS. The citrus grapefruit was a little too tart for my palate, which surprised me. Those two flavors lost quickly.

I moved on to the mountain berry and had a little more success with that one, so it got to ride with me for two weeks in a row though I found it to be really, really sweet. I finished the taste test with fruit punch, usually my least favorite flavor in any setting, and found that I could tolerate it the best out of all four choices.

Notice that I am not jumping up and down and raving about the taste of any of them? That's because the whey protein leaves a weird aftertaste on my palate...one that I can only describe using an unpleasant word, so I'll just say that it didn't taste great but I learned to tolerate it.

But why? Why do I tolerate it? Why not skip it altogether?

Believe it or not, for me, this stuff works. One week, I opted to NOT take my requisite 20-ounces of Accelerade with me on the bike and went with just Gatorade Endurance. About 45-60 minutes into the ride, I was STARVING. No amount of gel or trail mix could satisfy my hunger. It was ridiculous.

My solution? I'm going back to the powder mix. It has a frothier, creamier flavor that seems to work better for my taste buds. I'll miss the convenience and quickness of the ready-to-drink stuff, but as I'll take flavor over convenience any day.

Sunday was The Day. While others were out marathoning and Ironmaning, I was out riding my very first ‘Century’. Since my hamstring injury 2 weeks post-Boston, I had switched my primary focus from running and onto biking for the summer. The journey has been an exciting one! As you may recall, I had a great time sliding across the pavement on my face last month. But aside from spectacular crashes, being on the bike has allowed me to share a common experience with my step-father, as he brought me into the bike world where he was already firmly ensconced. This in turn have given me access to a group of biker-friends who have shown me a great amount of kindness and guidance. I’m so grateful for all of them!

I have discovered a lot of wonderful things about cycling, and learned about the difference between preparing for a ride versus preparing for a run. There are pros and cons to each sport, which I will eventually expound on in another post. For now though, let’s talk about my Big Ride.

We fretted a little about the weather, as thunderstorms were being predicted. Since most of my big ‘events’ seem to involve some kind of weather issue, I was resigned to the fact that I might get wet and I’d have to quickly learn how to be comfortable on the bike in slippery conditions. I reminded myself that rain would mean cloud-cover and cooler temperatures. I did not obsessively check the weather reports. Unless it was a monsoon, I was planning on riding. I’d spent the summer sacrificing my running legs in order to feel strong on the bike, and I wasn’t about to let a few raindrops keep me away.

As luck would have it, the weather was overcast and humid with mild temperatures at the start. We had to leave at o’dark early to get to the race site at 7:00 a.m. for registration and our arranged group ‘meet-up.’ Once we were all gathered, casually introduced and laughing together like old friends, our group of 12 riders took off. I was the only Century ‘virgin’ in the crowd and was spared any hazing or teasing.

The first 30-plus miles literally flew by! We were riding with guys that typically ride faster than I do, and the flat course offered by this particular event made for ideal flying conditions. When we pulled in to the first rest stop, I was surprised and pleased to see 17.3 mph register for my average speed rather than my usual 15 mph. I knew I would pay for it later, but I didn’t care. It felt great to ride on such smooth, flat course with a fun group of people.

Somewhere around mile 40, we made our collective memory for the day. The bulk of our 12 riders were in a pack and riding close together as we descended a hill. A chain of events quickly set things in motion – a woman was standing at the edge of the road taking photos of us, the pack slowed just a bit, and one of the riders bumped another’s tire. Then there was a flurry of wheels and limbs and shouting, and ultimately two riders wound up on the pavement.

Ron got up fairly quickly, with mostly bits of road rash all over, and a muscle spasm in his left shoulder blade. The other rider, Bart, was a little more banged up, having gone over his bars. He was very pale, and took a good blow to the shoulder and head. His first question, in hardcore, cyclist fashion – “How’s my bike?”

A stranger in a pick-up truck pulled over, and checked on us, while the photo-taking woman dialed 911. With 20-30 minutes, the whole situation sorted itself out – police arrived to keep traffic flowing and secure the scene, the ambulance arrived to take Bart to the hospital to check for broken bones and the stranger(!) took another rider and the bikes back to the Start Area so he could stow the bikes and get his car to meet Bart at the hospital.

A little shaken, we all climbed back on to our bikes and slowly rolled out, giving each other plenty of room, and taking some of the steam out of our engines, at least for the moment. Eventually, the pace picked up again, and our average paces spread us out. Christian, a fellow club member and strong rider, stuck with me through this next portion, as I started to feel the effort of constantly spinning, and then ran into my arch-nemesis, Mr. Headwind. Christian kindly pulled in front and let me draft off him, while trying to distract me with comments like ‘Look at that view!’ (There were many times throughout the ride when Christian would slide back to me and check in – ‘How’s the pace? How are you feeling’ At one point, my stepfather noted that Christian was a border collie, rounding us up and keeping us moving forward. It was a perfect description.)

The scenery along the course was great – even in areas that some wouldn’t label ‘scenic’, I still found the views to be interesting and enjoyable. All new roads! Sheep! Goats! The ocean! Sailboats! Plus, with 1900 riders taking part in the multiple-distances event (which meant that not all of them were on the 100-mile course, thankfully) there was always a new bike to covet or a cool jersey to admire. We saw quite a few couples on ‘tandem’ bikes and spotted one family on a ‘triple.’ The miles just kept ticking away.

At mile 70, the last rest stop arrived, and I ate some PB&J and oranges slices, then re-hydrated and un-hydrated, just as I had done, more or less, at the first two rest stops. There were some ominous looking black clouds in the distance, which made us wonder if the rain was finally ready to arrive. Miraculously, it never did come and the cloud cover kept the temperature reasonable, although the air was still a bit ‘sticky’.

The biggest ‘hills’ seemed to come at the end – either real or imagined. While these weren’t ‘hills’ like the ones that I had trained on, after being on the bike for that long and spinning the legs almost constantly…the hills felt like mountains. I was getting tired, and had to dig just a little deep. I reminded myself that other athletes were out doing amazing things that day, and that other people in my life were working hard to overcome their own obstacles…so I could whine and complain, or I could grit my teeth and finish strong. I chose the latter.

Finally somewhere around mile 102, the ride was over. There was no official finish line, no confetti, champagne or banners. But as I rounded the last corner of the course, with my friends urging me on to go ahead, I turned to make sure that at least my stepfather would ride the last few bits of pavement with me. Since I have ridden just about every training mile with him by my side (or in front of me), I thought we should share that moment. We did and it was perfect.

We turned on to the sidewalk and biked the last little bit to the ‘check out’ area. And as I’m standing in line, waiting to get my official t-shirt, Christian brings us all bags of potato chips as a post-ride treat. Yes. That’s right. Just like in the marathon, I began to dream about potato chips about halfway through the ride, and anyone in earshot was sure to hear me lament for the crunchy snack. In my world, victory tastes salty, and salty goodness never tasted so good.

The Stats:

20-ounces, Accelerade Fruit Punch
72-ounces, Gatorade Endurance Lemon-Lime
28-ounces, water
1 chocolate chip Trail Blaze bar, Matisse and Jack’s
6 orange slices
1.5 PB&J sandwiches
3 Gu (orange, lemon lime, tri-berry)

Ride time: 6:12:28, average pace 16.5 mph

After a self-sabotaging meal of seven pieces of delicious New Haven pizza with my fellow RBFers on Sunday night, I dug my fork in for some lip-smacking Humble Pie on Monday morning. But I've been feasting on Humble Pie a lot lately, and you know, it doesn't taste nearly as bad as I thought it would.

Having only 4 long runs (for these purposes, long run being defined as 10-12ish miles) under my belt since Boston in April, coupled with a rather emotional summer, I didn't have any plans or expectations for my favorite annual race, the New Haven Road Race 20k. That attitude gave me carte blanche to act completely irresponsibly with regards to my hydration, nutrition and pacing strategy.

In other words...I made the experience in to an experiment, and I didn't disappoint.

Here's what I learned:

Pizza as my primary source of pre-race fuel = not good. The two slices of the 'Meat Bomb' pizza were not my best idea either. But ooohhhh how good it tasted. I paid for it later - not only with multiple pit stops before the race, but my stomach rebelled ferociously for most of the 12.4 miles.

When my stomach feels like a washing machine with a brick in it, hydration and nutrition during the race are challenging to accommodate.

I love random neighbors with water hoses spraying over-heated runners. Love. Them.

I MUST REMEMBER TO WEAR MY VISOR when it's hot...not a regular hat.

I desperately needed to run with friends this year, for inspiration and support, even though our pacing strategies just aren't the same. I adjusted my usual 'start slower and build speed' pace in order to have some company, and in the end, it worked out OK...but boy did I suffer along the way. We were weaving and surging and walking, which felt odd to me. (I'm not certain my usual plan would have gotten me there any quicker or with any less pain, I'm just sayin'. I wouldn't trade the camaraderie though. I'd still be trying to get to the finish line.)

Since I was trying to force my focus to *not* be on my own race performance - per se - I found that I really revelled in the whole race experience. My favorite part of the whole day wasn't crossing the finish line - regardless of my joy of being able to STOP. Rather, my favorite part of the day was the time I spent afterwards: bumping into runner-friends, hearing their race stories, seeing their smiles, sitting in a circle on the damp grass, eavesdropping on the 'Elites' (for real!), sharing running stories and sharing laughs. That part was what made the day worth every minute of pain, cramping, head pounding, and 'sweaty-ness'. (Thanks Beth, Jon, Jank, Danny, Chris and the WAC runners!)

So I didn't PR this time. So what? I can eat another bite of Humble Pie. This summer, I've discovered that being on the bike, riding with a group of experienced riders has reminded me that we all have to start at the beginning, and sometimes that means being at the back of the pack. I've been staring at the back of A LOT of cool looking cycling jerseys this summer. At first, I really hated it. I had to choke down that stupid Humble Pie, like eating dry toast. But now? It's not such a bad place to be...eating humble pie or being at the back of the pack.

There's much to be learned in this place, and much to be remembered. I keep thinking back to all of my "firsts" when I really got inspired by running. My first road race ever...my first (and oddly, only) half marathon...my first marathon. Reflecting on all those good feelings that came with each new goal achieved has given me focus. In order to feel like that again, sometimes we have to start over, at the back of the line or the back of the pack. It's in that place that we decide how and when we want to move up, even if it's just a few feet forward.