Therefore when the stars align and the intricate schedules of six very good friends overlap for one special Saturday in July, this not only marks a reason to celebrate, but it serves as excellent reason to go for what amounts to two massive bike rides… in one day. Naturally, a two-for-one is the picture of efficiency.

Or the 200 Not On 100, clearly. Dang, you know it’s a decently large day in the saddle when it doesn’t even fit on this map.

I won’t repeat myself, so the full song and dance (that is, the reason why this ride came about) can be found here. This ride is simply a ride. Getting out with friends, tackling a head-slappingly long route, throw some requisite dirt into the mix, precede that with a road trip followed by late night antics the night before, toss in some of New England’s most scenic and historic roads, and you’ve got yourself a soul-ride. Racing bikes for a career is truly incredible and I’m humbled and blessed to be in that company. Massive soul rides like this, however, are one of the primary reasons why I ride a bike.

The 200NotOn100 gained plenty of regional and then national recognition. The day is characterized by a whole slew of mini stories, which collectively surround this special Saturday building it into what it ultimately became. One of my favorite of these stories is that of a Kathy and her family of four who caught wind of the original 200 on 100 ride and rode it over the course of five days with her husband and two young boys. Staying apprised of our 200 on 100 ride, which became the 200 NOT on 100, this Saturday they flew their plane from Massachusetts, took aerial photos of noteworthy segments of the route, found a landing strip on the course and were out emphatically cheering with posters in hand(!), before it was wheels-up and they flew on to Portland to be part of the “unofficial welcome committee.” Another great story is Rich who found us right after the ride’s high point on the Kancamagus Highway and with a special gift bag delivery of NH maple syrup and Moat Mountain tall boys to help prevent the mid-ride crack. Again with two very young children in arms. I reckon the word is getting out!

Chomping a Fluffernutter, Ryan graciously accepts the maple&Moat gift bag. Thanks Rich.

While not a charity ride, it has enormous potential to go in that direction – as is, in addition to the t-shirts we’re selling, we passed around a hat at the wicked post-ride BBQ and collectively have generated close to $4,000, entirely for the Colorado Red Cross.

Community. That’s what the ride is all about. It’s the cycling community in Colorado to which so many of us are connected. Moreover, the sense of community last Saturday rivals anything I’ve experienced on two wheels. A dozen riders before the sun was even up in Burlington joined us rolling out of Burlington, while plenty of riders latched on for five minutes or fifty miles. The reception upon our arrival at Scratch Baking Co. was phenomenal, including my family, childhood neighbors, my best friend, his wife, and newborn son, the incredible community inherently built around Scratch, the Healthy Kids Happy Kids Me organization, folks I’ve known from my local bike shop for a dozen years, supporters, fans, and a whole bunch of others. Cycling is a community like no other.

Oh, another noteworthy addition to the day was watching Andy and Dave roll into Scratch more than three hours later. These two intrepidly set out with us at 6am from Burlington, were dropped before mile 50, but kept on truckin’ to arrive in Portland at 8pm. Incredible. And now a photo montage.

Some groggy eyes at 5:58am.

Good morning. ilovermont.

VT farm roads veiled in morning fog.

Only time we touched last year’s route all day.

Chandler tucks into the draft to ensure he can make the full 200 miles via scoot’.

Watching Tim drink maple syrup at the 1/2 way point to dig out of the bonk inspires the mega-sammy: speculoos, Fluff, and maple almond butter. White bread, naturally.

Maybe I’m gaining something of a reputation for Fluff? Nearing the top of Bear Notch.

Ryan ain’t hallucinating yet.

Support staff and the 3 riders, 200 Not On 100 complete!

Burgers, brats, beers, and plenty of this. Recovery food, my friends.

Oh right, these guys rolled in three hours later. Andy and Dave, you’re a couple of heroes!

Community. Cycling is community. Thank you. Thank you family, supporters, folks who made the signs on the side of the road, mid-ride delivery crew, our sincere “Friends” at Skratch, Scratch Baking Co., Strava, Allagash, Cutaway, and our friends from Maine to Colorado. Be safe, be well. Thank you.

Epic is a strong word. I believe it should be retired outright, never to be used again. But since that’s not going to happen, I say a hundred-plus mile ride, 75% of which is dirt, over the steep bergs characteristic of the Upper Valley of New Hampshire and Vermont is worthy of such a description.

To backtrack, the Tour of Poland ended amid a black-sky thunderstorm which arrived dramatically in the final kilometer of the seven-day race. It also wrapped up successfully for us as we at Liquigas-Cannondale snatched two stage wins, two second place finishes, and the overall victory. That’s called domination. From there I could be found jetting back to Lucca where my ability to clean a house top to bottom was that of legend. Mr. Clean would have been envious as I swept, vacuumed, scrubbed, dusted, and polished with great vigor. A pair of tasty and authentic goodbye dinners in my 36 hours home in Italy capped off my Italian summer before jetting to the United States where I have the Tour of Utah, the USA Pro Cycling Challenge Which Should Be Named The Tour of Colorado, followed closely by the Canadian WorldTour races, and (fingers crossed) the world championships in mid-September. Giddyup.

So now caught up to speed, returning stateside is always reason to celebrate, and especially so with awesome stuff to do straightaway. A delightful BBQ dinner with my very good friend as well as freshman college roommate plus his newly wedded wife in the Granite State segued perfectly to Saturday’s ride which you see above. The same masochistic genius who created Stoepid Week is also now into version 7.0 of the U(pper)V(alley)Epic – the aforementioned hundred mile ride, thickly laced with steep dirt roads, stunning views, and featured prevalently in this year’s event, flat tires.

Believe it or not, my bike doesn’t have a kickstand. Thankfully chivalrous manners are rife in the spandex clad world of cycling, so rather than plunking my bike down in the dirt, this kind gentleman held it for me while I changed my first of three flats. Ten intrepid souls set out on the UVEpic 7.0 early Saturday morning. Then at hour four and just 48 miles in, I warned folks that I was going to emit more watts (ergo, go faster), at which point the brave peloton was whittled down to five. Soon thereafter a flat tire sadly took out my kickstand-man. One other waited for him while three of us found the elusive Cooler-of-Hope. Now more than five hours into the ride and with hunger pangs coming at us with the same ferocity as sharp stones in the dry conditions, Chris made us very happy with water, Red Bull, sports drink, and, err, some other tasty treats.

A quick glut of calories and unfortunately being on a tight time budget – as well as places to go that evening – I dropped the entire crew and soldiered on solo for the full epoch epic Epic.

And to where was I rushing off that evening? To grill corn with my brother, obviously! Well that and chicken and relax by the lake. I promise you, it’s a tough life.

Mid-season breaks are critical in maintaining peak freshness over the course of a 10-month race season. The way my race schedule was unfolding, I couldn’t find a time to relax after California, nor after nationals the following week, nor Tour of Suisse. So finally after Poland, I had this window of respite and sitting lakeside is a mighty fine way of RnR’ing. (“Bwaa’?! How do you go on a UVEpic and call that rest?” Well friends, sometimes there’s more ways than one to sooth the soul. Letting boys be boys, beating each other up on bikes, riding gnarly dirt roads is certainly one of those ways.)

It’s said that bath salts are a good way to heal the body. I believe that being in Maine is equally therapeutic. There’s something cathartic about the salty sea air that makes me feel like a better person on the other side. But mid-season breaks are always short lived, so I decided to tackle in three days what I would ideally prefer to spread out over three months. In the days of yore, or at least when I was between the ages of zero to twenty, I would come to this magical island in Maine with my family the very day school ended in the summer and would stay there until the dreaded day before school started up again in September. I’m the sixth generation of my family to come to this island and my best friends are here, our neighbors are like family, and my happiest memories on earth are here. The Maine license plate reads Vacationland and the welcome sign driving into this serene state accurately states The Way Life Should Be. As a very wise man once said, “Maine is like heaven. Just with the distinct aroma of fried seafood.”

So my three-months-in-three-days vacation featured swimming daily in the frigid Atlantic, rock hopping, cocktail parties, lobster cruises (seen above), seeing friends and family, tennis, boating (where it has been blowing like stink the entire time – one of the nautical world’s finest expressions, hence the title of this blog), napping, reading, and soaking in the thick sea air. Rest and repeat.

And let’s be honest: beyond Maine, where else can you buy fresh lobsters at the Walgreen’s pharmacy?!