Seven days. 375 miles on the bike. Another 20 on foot. The camp itself went great.
The trip started with bike bags stacked in my apartment and a shared packing spreadsheet in my inbox. I flew from LaGuardia to Greenville-Spartanburg, loaded the bags into an Uber after one in the morning, and made it to downtown Greenville.
Trek Travel called it the South Carolina Ride Camp. I rode all seven days. There was a lot of climbing, but I still found room for the running. Nine of those 20 miles were under 6:20 pace.
One route I wanted to keep was Tubbs Mountain. I sent the GPX file to one of the guides before heading to the airport.
“The tubbs mountain road is nice and rolly with a set of excellent country roads and views of fields,” I wrote. It was not a big climbing day. It was an easy, fun 30 miles that I would have taken over the final recovery spin any day.
The route book had the turns written out by mileage. Leave Greenville, ride through Travelers Rest, follow Tubbs Mountain Road, and keep an eye on the blind curves. The notes warned that there was little traffic and no water until Furman or Travelers Rest. I took a picture of the page before leaving.
The same page pointed toward the Blue Ridge Mountains and Paris Mountain. It was the kind of route I wanted somebody else to have after I left.
An Uber picked me up in Greenville Sunday afternoon and took me back to the airport. I got home around midnight.
Then I got on another plane.
I had to fly to San Francisco and back the next day. That meant another 12 hours in the air, with the return landing around midnight again. My legs had handled a week of riding and running without a real problem. Sitting still was harder.
My Achilles started making a clicking sound after the first flight. It was not painful, but I knew the sound. Something similar had happened before a previous lower-leg injury. I put the leg back into a recovery sock and planned to keep it moving during the two six-hour flights with bands and toe raises.
I emailed my physical therapist from the road with the full recap: 375 cycling miles, 20 running miles, no real issue during camp, then the clicking after the plane. I asked what else I could do while flying.
We made a plan for the next morning. I would get to Finish Line early, use the recovery boots from 7:30 to 8:15, and go straight into physical therapy.
I was also trying to get a rain jacket from somebody in Prospect Park Track Club. He had offered a free men's medium to the club list. I replied from South Carolina right away.
“That's the plan! with the right gear I can make it happen!!”
By Monday morning I was still chasing what I called the “sweet poncho.” I told him I needed an easy spin after putting 375 miles and a ton of vertical into my legs. My commuter bike usually carried eight to ten pounds of gear, so I was not pretending it would be a quick lap.
The bigger training plan was already taking shape in TrainingPeaks. Thursday morning bricks with Brooklyn Tri Club would become one weekly staple. A Sunday long ride would be the other. I could use bike commuting for more mileage during the week while staying focused on running until the World Duathlon Championships the following spring.
The camp was over. The next day already had two flights, a recovery sock, an early physical therapy appointment, and a used rain jacket to pick up in Windsor Terrace.