Archive for May 2010
Purgatory and Greenline Velo: the Path to Illumination
Purgatory is not so much a place as a process. Purgatory’s texture was sculpted by one of the most famous Italian poets, Dante, working off the ideology of the founders of the early Christian church. It is the second kingdom where the pilgrim wonders and the first where the human spirit has “hope” in reaching heavenly enlightenment: quel secondo regno/dove l’umano spirito si purga/e di salire al ciel diventa regno (Chiavacci Leonardi, 10). This literary ladder between heaven and hell is a mirror-image of the latter: where hell is a pit (easily “falling into sin”), purgatory is a mountain, where the sweat and physical efforts of the penitent pay off in attaining an entrance to paradise. Yet, the pilgrim’s journey through Purgatory is not solitaire: Beatrice assumes the role of guide, leading the pilgrim along the rough and burdensome cliff faces to the heavenly kingdom.
Similarly, the cyclists from Greenline Velo are on their way to redemption. A young bike team from Boston, they are facing a great challenge: organizing a new, NEBRA ranking bicycle race. They are slowly learning the necessary steps in organizing such a large event: paying the police, having the proper emergency services in place, keeping the areas clean, finding sponsoring, and more. But like our pilgrim, the going will get easier the further they climb up the mountain. The more they make their plight known, the more prayers will help them and the easier their climb will be. Of course – like our voyageur in the Italian classic – they need a helping hand, or they won’t make it up the mountain. They are missing funding to get them closer to a heavenly illumination.
Honestly. This is not literary invention.
It is no coincidence that the cyclists from Greenline Velo are organizing a bicycle race whose proceeds support an environmental cause. The National Grid finances the installation of solar panels on the Sutton Public Schools and an awareness of energy consumption with its students. Thus, any assistance they receive goes directly to finance the switch from conventional to alternative energy. Plus, it helps the riders from the club establish themselves as a viable team, and places the race on the map as one of Massachusetts’ qualifying circuit races. Anyone interested in information or donating to the project should email Kyle Butler at connection.
What’s the name of the race? The Purgatory Road Race, of course.
Purgatory Chasm in Sutton is thought to have been formed from a sudden glacial water break. The race is in part criterium, yet anyone who lives in the area and has ridden in bike races before should test their skills on the circuit. The race is June 19th, 2010, and even if you don’t bike, I suggest you take the time to watch the racers (some international) make Massachusetts cycling history. Hopefully it will find it’s place in Massachuetts’ cycling along with the Lonjo Classic and the George Street Bike Challenge for Major Taylor as one of the state’s legendary races (and if you haven’t heard about Major Taylor, I suggest you read up on him here). As we watch the pilgrim make his way up the mountain to heavenly enlightenment, we have the opportunity to witness the young riders at Greenline Velo make their way through the chasm, brightening the Sutton Schools with solar panels. So give them a hand, and help them along the road to alternative illumination.
Andiamo in Kuota: A new discovery in the Dolomites
Cycling in the Dolomites is an experience comparable to beholding the handiwork of the divine. Harsh rock and cliff faces in this part of northeastern Italy are harmoniously married to lush emerald fields and evergreen forests. Anyone who has participated in the Maratona dles Dolomites (The Dolomite Marathon) knows how stunning the panorama can be, especially when biking through these glorious passes, roads closed, with other cyclists. Nine thousand other cyclists, according to the statistics from the official Maratona dles Dolomites website. In 2008, there was again the same number. Needless to say, this is one of the most popular of the great Italian Granfondo 
(an “endurance” or “long distance” cycling event, loosely translated). In fact, the organizers of the Maratona dles Dolomites need to cap the number of participants every year. The more people who sign up, the more difficult it is to organize, and the more dangerous the event becomes. If they were to get 10,000 or more on these narrow roads, the start would be more than chaos: it would be hell.
Setting the opening scene, many of the participants have never competed in a “race” of this caliber (90% of cyclists are there to safely finish the course), and the starting line is the most daunting part. Beginning at La Villa in Alta Badia, there are three general routes one can ride: the short 55 km, the medium 106 km and the long 138 km options. Some look at the 138km and think it’s easy, yet forget to consider the elevation gain is around 4190 m (yes, meters – for feet, multiply by three). In addition, the three courses are all interlinked in some way – especially the short, a loop all 
cyclists must do no matter what option they choose. Around 7:00 am, everyone starts. Everyone. The elbow-to-elbow riding from La Villa (flat) is invigorating, but when ascending Campolungo, that’s where technique comes into play. Speed is dictated by the allure of the surrounding cyclists, pinched between the Sunday stroller ahead and the weekend whizzer behind – while climbing uphill. It’s a rather precarious situation and every year I have participated, there has been an accident coming down from Passo Sella, in the exact same spot. No misunderstanding, it’s a great race and one I’ve done four times. Unfortunately it’s the number of people that make – and break – all the fun.
Enter Kuota. I have already written a blog post on Kuota’s commitment to cycling in their local community through the Granfondo Fabio Casartelli here. Kuota saw what was happening at the Maratona dles Dolomites and decided 
to join with others to do something about it. They are, in part, sponsoring another race in the Dolomites. The Gröden Bike Marathon takes place in the Val Gardena, crossing other famous peaks such as Fedaia and Pordoi. Their event has a two-fold advantage: one, the racers get to see a completely different side of these majestic mountains, and two, since this is the race’s first year, not many cyclists know about it, thus numbers will be low. Of course, like all Granfondo, there is an entry fee. However, if you show up with your Kuota bicycle, you don’t pay anything – the registration is free. It is a UDACE certified, pro/amateur race, complete with all the other extras expected at these memorable events: gifts and awards, pasta lunches and good people who are there just to have a fun time. If you’re interested in the event itself go to the Gröden Marathon site (you may need Google Translate since the site is in Italian and German). If you’re interested in the Kuota bike line check out their website here. Again, Kuota sees cycling – and the mountains – in a different light, from a different valley. Consequently, thanks to the Gröden Bike Marathon, cyclists can now appreciate this divine art from more than just one perspective.
Flemish Fun
Few people have heard of the Tour of Flanders. Certainly, the Tour de France and the Giro d’Italia are older and more popular than this spin through Belgium. Yet there is something about these “minor” bike races (and by minor I mean less popular, not less important) that, in my opinion, makes them as exciting to watch as the others. Maybe even more so.
I have had the privilege of witnessing first-hand a number of the great races. But once, I had the honor of competing in the amateur circuit through the Flemish Ardennes. It was an experience of a lifetime. The countryside is some of the most picturesque in Belgium, riding along the silky-soft asphalted roads on the flattest ground imaginable. Until you’re faced with Molenburg – the second of many uphill, cobblestone stretches – lasting about a half kilometer at an average 5% grade. Then it’s Paterburg: a 300m cobbled climb at an average 12.9%. Then the infamous Koppenburg: 600m of cobbled slope at an average of 11.6%. The entire course itself covers approximately 250km with 17 of climbs like these – some cobbled, some not – at various intervals. But the trick isn’t so much knowing when to anticipate the hill, as it is a game of avoiding the ruts. Certainly these cobblestone stre
ets have “grown apart” over the years and it’s easy to let the wheels steer you into catastrophe. Derailleurs, chains, pedals and all kinds of debris are literally ripped off the bicycles by the mere strength of the climbing cyclist, and scattered along the base of every hill. These climbs eat bicycles. Thus the only solution through the pounding and vibrations is to keep hands firm, feet churning, and asses down. Missing any of these means walking along the side of the hill. Which calls into mind the next element of this adventure: space.
Not only are ri
ding the fat cobblestones a challenge uphill, but there’s also the challenge of jockeying for position. On the asphalted flat bits the road is smooth, wide and speeds increase. Mere meters before the beginning of Kapelmur, for example, the road narrows considerably. As it should: all of these cobbled sections echo a time when horse drawn carriages ruled the roadways. There was no need to make the avenue any wider than needed. So when approaching the base, there is a mad scramble to stay on the bike as a group of cyclists, possibly ten or twelve wide, narrows to three. Speeds slow down instantly to a standstill, and most riders dismount since the grade is too difficult to attack from a stopped position. And it is here rivers of cyclists on foot flow uphill, walking their bikes along both sides of the cobblestone road – making the going even more narrow for those able to stay in the saddle.
Add to this mix the freezing cold, pouring rain, harsh winds and globs of mud and sand that pool at the base of each steep climb, and the adventure only turns more epic. Legendary, actually. The event is usually the 14th Sunday in the year - around the beginning of April – and the weather patterns in northern Europe are anything but trustworthy. Even the adverse weather adds to the uniqueness of the event: a one-day race that lasts a lifetime.