There's an old American folks song - actually a very sad song by a youth who's about to be executed - that speaks of his yearning to return to the idyllic land of his youth. I guess the reason it floats into my head today is the ongoing damp, softly always slightly raining days and days of green-up Spring weather we've be having here in Arundel. My WeatherBug smartphone app radar screen shows most of the US to be clear and bright. But not the Northeast! Hell, most of the globe seems to be enjoying clear weather! Can't blame this on global warming or climate change though. This is just the malicious weather-gods at play when we're trying to get some training in for the Camino, where we start in six days.
A few days ago, we walked on the Smith Preserve trails in Kennebunkport. Here's a shot of us there.
We did get some hill training in yesterday, over on Mt. Agamenticus in Ogunquit. Its not like the mountains in Gallica, but it's all we have nearby. With an elevation gain of just over 500 feet from the base parking area to the top and grades on the 7/10 of a mile access road from 6 to 15 degrees, it can give you a workout and make those quads burn! So off we went, the three of us.
Now our Camino training pack consists of two humans and one dog - Finnegan, our 5 year old golden retriever, heretofore not known for his perambulatory enthusiasm. We've gotten him enthusiastic about walking with us on 5-7 mile walks, but those have been on relatively flat pathways. So as we head up the road for the first time, it becomes apparent that "up" is a gear that Finnegan avoids whenever possible. We encounter swerves to the side of the road, obviously meant to indicate the need for an urgent pee stop. We pause for a minute and then feel a tug on the lease as he sidles back down the road, as if to tell us what we want is down there, not up ahead. As the slope increases, Finnegan slows down even more than we do. But on we go.
The road has been empty of traffic but about half way up, there comes the sound of running footsteps behind. Turning to see, there's a solidly built young man, wearing a heavy weight vest, jogging up the road and as he passes us, he gives a thumbs up to us, two obviously not young sloggers and a reluctant dog. We trudge on, rounding the few hairpin curves (always on the outside of the curve, where the gradient is less) and finally reach the barren area on top of Big A where there's a table or two and a restroom. People who have driven up are there enjoying the views of the nearby Atlantic.
After a short rest, some water for everyone (we always carry a collapsible bowl for Finnegan) and an energy Bloks cube, and down the road we go. Surprise! Our one gear going up dog has developed a whole eight-gear transmission for going down. His tail goes up, his ears start flapping and there's a spring in his step! We are almost dragged down the mountain and back to the parking lot.
Joan & I realize that it was more about the dog than us in that training exercise, so after a quick sandwich lunch break, we decide to leave Finnegan in the car when we walk up again. He's happy and we're free. We figure it's cooler up top, so we drive up, leave the car in a parking lot and head down for round two. While a little tired, somehow the road isn't as steep as it was before and after after we turn around at the bottom and head back up, it's actually starting to feel pretty good! Finnegan was sound asleep in the car and really didn't even notice we were gone. Joan & I get about a 1,000 feet of vertical ascent and decent and work both our "up" and "down" legs. Previous experience on the Camino has taught us that going down can actually be worse for toes, shins and quad muscled that going up.
By the way, I chatted for a while with the guy we'd met who was running the mountain in a weight vest. Turns out he was ex-military and just trying to keep in shape. He sure looked like it was working!
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