The Harpoon Brewery Road Race

Some events in life just happen. There is little publicity, and no headlines.

There are no eyewitness news accounts afterwards. No awards. Just genuine satisfaction.

I stumbled upon one such event last year, during the summer, and vowed this year to attend. To witness, if not join as a participant.

Every year now, in June, it seems, a group of people gather, plunk down a bit of coin, and bicycle one hundred and thirty two miles from Boston, uphill to Windsor, Vermont.

The coin is necessary to supply the tents at the fifty and one hundred mile mark with drinks and nutrients, and to pay for the portable facilities.

It is said that the event began when a group of triathalon people decided to bicycle from Boston to Windsor as a training exercise, and each year, more and more people asked to join. This year there were between three hundred and four hundred folk, men and women. All in excellent shape.



It's not exactly a race, although each participant appeared to have several elaborate timing devices on the handlebars. More of a training jaunt.

Talk about the bikes. These are top of the line machines, some hand built, with pencil thin tires and the weirdest pedals you'll ever see.

Maybe ninety five percent of the entries were clicking in. The shoes have craters in the soles, which click into small knobs that represents the pedals. That gives you power on both the down and the up strokes.

My son went around the rest area, listening for the riders to "click out" as they came streaming into the stop at the one hundred mile refreshment tent.