Falmouth in the Fall

An empty Osprey nest - They've all headed south for the winter :(

Wow, where does the time go? This has been my longest gap between posts since I started this blog back at the end of 2020. I've been meaning to write so many times, but life gets in the way. 

Anyway, I thought the topic "Falmouth in the Fall" would be appropriate for a couple of reasons: First, it is said that fall is the best season on Cape Cod. That could not have been more true this fall as summer-like conditions lasted right through September and October. "Falmouth in the Fall" is also the name of a scaled-down, fall version of the 7-mile Falmouth Road race that I was fortunate enough to participate in back in November. 

But before I get to Falmouth in the Fall, allow me to provide a quick health update. I am fortunate to report that my PSA values have been non-detectable over the past 3 months. Good news for sure, but as my oncologist frequently reminds me, this is a marathon, not a sprint - and I don't even think he's a runner 😉. But he is a realist. His job sort of demands it. Frankly, I appreciate his directness. The last thing I would want is a doctor blowing sunshine in various places after all I've been through so far. Plus, I have read enough accounts of the many directions this thing can take that I am realistic enough to know that I am still a long way from declaring any type of victory over my condition. Still, small victories - I'll take them.

My 12-month course of treatment (ADT and Apalutamide/placebo test drug) will wrap up in December and January. Yeah! This means that starting in mid-January, my body will be on its own to fend off any possible remaining cancer cells that could still be lingering post-surgery and post-ADT. This will happen over the course of 6-9 months in 2022 as my hormone levels begin to normalize. I will go on a brief hiatus from Dana-Farber after my January appointment. I won't be back again until mid-March, which will be a significant first look at my PSA levels and scans without the assistance of the ADT drug Lupron artificially keeping the numbers down. Fingers crossed🤞and lots of praying 🙏.

Falmouth in the Fall

Sunset at Menauhant Beach

After my surgery in June, my surgeon told me that I would have to curtail all physical activities for a minimum of 6 weeks. Bicycling would have to wait for another 6 months! Well, that sucks. So, I put my bikes away and focused on walking and a gradual and very slow return to jogging and limited weight-lifting. So imagine my surprise at my 2-month follow-up when the same doctor casually mentioned that I was fine to resume cycling at that point. I was thrilled, surprised, and puzzled at the same time but certainly not about to ask any additional questions. I'll take it!

I returned home from my appointment and immediately got my road and mountain bikes back out and proceeded to give them a good wash, lube, and overall checkout. I was out for a ride the next day and never looked back. To any cars that passed by on my first ride after my 3-month break from riding, they must have thought there was something wrong with me. An ear-to-ear smile would stay with me for the entirety of my debut 25-mile ride through the back roads and along the beaches of Falmouth.

My Trusty Trek Emonda by the beach

People that have lived on the Cape for a long time will fondly tell you that September and October are the best months to be here. The weather is typically summer-like as warm ocean waters provide a base level of warmth. Combined with the still-strong rays of the sun, you're reminded that summer hasn't gone anywhere. Even better, the throngs of vacationers and tourists are gone for the most part. While we realize how important they are to the local economy, it's so nice to be able to find a parking spot downtown and at any beach, any time of day. And the best part? Dairy Queen is still open. While the Cape is famous for its multitude of fresh-made ice-cream shops, there's just something about DQ. It doesn't fit into my whole-food plant-based diet but splitting a small Vanilla with my wife is quite a treat every once in a while! It's the little things.

My daughter used to laugh at me when we'd go for an early morning bike ride and the temperature would be in the low 60's, kind of a tough temperature to dress for. If it was a sunny morning, we'd usually head out in light gear and it might be a little cool for the first few miles, at which point I'd come out with one of my classic dad-ism's: "Ok, it's a little cold, but it's a warm-cold ™". She'd look at me with a puzzled look and say, "did you just say that"? I guess what I was trying to convey, admittedly using some of my best dumb language, is that it's not like the type of crisp northwest air we were used to from the burbs of Boston in the fall. No, this really had an underlying humid, warmth to it. Sure enough, after 10-15 minutes of riding or so, the short-sleeved bike jerseys we chose for the ride would prove to be more than warm enough. By the end of our ride, we'd be plenty warm and even glad we threw some sunscreen on our faces. There, vindicated. 

During the fall, I was fortunate enough to be able to ramp up both my biking and running to pretty decent levels, usually around 45-60 minutes of running and anywhere from 1 to 2 hours on the bike, alternating running and biking each day. It was awesome. But I did miss my friends the Ospreys that used to provide aerial cover on my beach runs. Gone were their distinctive chirps and circling flight patterns. Like clockwork, Ospreys bug out every September and head to a warmer climate down south only to return in late March. I do miss their sounds but will look forward to their return in the spring. I hope to have some good news to share with them at that point after my March follow-up appointment.

Falmouth in the Fall - The Road Race

Falmouth Road Race - Fall edition, about a mile in

The Falmouth Road Race in August is well-known. It draws an international field of elite and recreational runners alike. 75,000 spectators typically line the course to cheer on over 12,000 runners.

Yeah, this wasn't that.

But what a lot of people don't realize is that there exists a smaller version of the iconic race called "Falmouth in the Fall". This one is capped at 1,000 runners but otherwise follows the same picturesque course as its big brother version in the summer. 

I think I knew about it in the back of my mind but my son happened to mention it to me back in September as something we could do together. As chance would have it, he got deployed and I registered on my own. 

This was the first real racing I had done since the Ironman in 2017! Going into it, I didn't feel particularly well prepared. I had done a 5 and a 6-miler in the weeks leading up to it but had no idea how I'd make out on the longer course. 

I tend to have a bad habit of only entering running and triathlon competitions that I feel I am optimally trained for. Deep down, I'm a competitor and I like to do my best to beat the other geezers in my age category. 

Though I am generally fairly fit these days, I am a long way from being in any type of age-group competitive condition. So, signing up for this race and running mainly for fun required me to swallow a little pride. Instead of competing, I shifted my focus to thinking "hey 6 months out from major surgery and still on the strength-zapping cancer therapy ADT, this would be pretty cool if I could just finish this 7-mile race". 

So with that renewed mindset, I picked up my number the day before and my wife drove me down to the finish line area early on race day. Second summer had promptly ended at the end of October, so this day in mid-November turned out to be sunny but quite blustery and cold. I dressed in layers as best I could and boarded one of the busses that were shuttling runners to the start line in Woods Hole, exactly 7 miles to the south.

I have to credit the race organizers. This was one of the most well-run events I've ever participated in. The pre-race logistics were top-notch. I arrived in Woods Hole on one of the first busses. After many years of marriage, my wife finally converted me from being perpetually late to being a punctuality freak. The new Spike tends to be on time or even a little early for things now. As my sons' rowing coach used to say, "If you're on time, you're late". That is my new motto. 

Anyway, I had an hour to kill in Woods Hole and managed to find a nice little spot protected from the wind but receiving the warming rays of the sun. As the race announcers started chatting more and they got ready to sing the national anthem, I know it was time to mosey on over to the start area. 

In normal times, I'd try to position myself midway or slightly toward the front of the pack, but on this day, my goal was just to finish, so I headed to the back. Now, this might sound rather mean and a little cocky even, but I looked around at some of the folks at the back of the pack and decided that even with my ADT-impaired situation, these nice folks were not my peeps. I'm sure they were just there to try to finish, but I instinctively moved toward the midway area of the crowd. 

The starting horn went off and we were underway. My positioning paid off since I felt like I was almost immediately running with others at a comfortable pace. I passed a few and got passed by a few, but all in all, I was in a good spot. It was quite exhilarating to be running in a big group like this and hearing all the encouragement from folks along the sidelines. Like the blob of runners, the fans on the sidelines would quickly thin out. This wasn't the big Falmouth Road Race after all. But that was ok with me. 

Running by the historic Nobsca Lighthouse - Beautiful!

When things eventually started to thin out, I glanced down at my trusty Garmin watch a few times and was surprised to see that I settled into a surprisingly decent sub 9-minute mile pace. Back when I was in good running shape back in 2016-2017, I would have been clicking off the miles a minute or 2 quicker. But compared to my recent training runs, I was quite happy knocking off sub 9-minute miles in this event. 

Even after things thin out, it's typical in decent-sized road races for you to end up running in mini-packs. Sometimes runners or mini-packs pass you by. Sometimes you pass them. And sometimes you just happen to end up running beside someone that, on that particular day, is running at the exact same pace as you. This person sort of becomes your "race buddy". You may, or likely may not, ever utter a single word to your race buddy, but they're there just the same, getting a little winded up the hills, taking a breather on the downhills, just like you.

At about the 4 or 5 mile mark of the race, I found my "race buddy". Now you'd think my "race buddy" might look something like me. Maybe an older man or woman with a few streaks of grey in their hair and maybe carrying an extra couple of pounds around their waist like yours truly. 

Nope. My "race buddy" took the form of a little girl, probably about 10 or 12 years old. Now before you think how creepy this is, let me explain. I was in a good groove running solo when this mini-pack came up from behind. They weren't going much faster than me, so I sort of tagged along. In the middle of this pack was a lanky little girl with long legs and a long stride. I sort of assumed the other runners in the pack were her support group. They were providing a lot of encouragement to her as she went. "You're doing amazing, keep it up". There weren't many spectators along the course at that point, but when me and my buddy and the mini-pack would pass the fans that were there, they would start clapping and screaming all kinds of encouraging words. "You're amazing, you're so strong, keep it up". 

Because of the weirdness of the situation, I tried to get some separation. I tried to back off so that she would pull ahead and I'd be back to my solo position or maybe get caught up in another mini-pack. Back I'd fall, ahead she'd go. There, it was nice running with you, but I'm glad to be by myself again. But then I'd go around a corner and there she'd be. This time just the two of us. The creep factor was ratcheting up a few notches. I'd mutter a quick "nice job" and then move over to the other side of the road a little to allow some space. 

At one point I tried to muster a little speed to pull ahead. There, I'm finally in my solo zone again and this little girl can continue to impress the spectators behind me now. 

Around another bend, and there she'd be. For whatever reason, we were sort of locked at the hip. We were going to finish the race this way, I could tell. After a while, I even decided that I could tap into some of the encouraging words she was receiving continuously along the way. "Way to go", "You're doing so well". Yep, I'd take them for myself. What the heck, we could share the positive vibes, right? Occasionally, someone would shout out something like "you go girl" or "what a strong young lady you are". Those accolades I left for her. I didn't need them. 

Anyway, me and my race buddy climbed the hill up Falmouth heights together as we approached the finish line. It was at that point, I guess she had had enough of the old geezer and blew past me to the finish.

I had accomplished what I set out to do. I finished the 7-mile course, and my time was not terrible. 

Approaching the finish line. What a grin!

With my transition from age-group competition to just signing up for races for fun, I would manage another road race a couple of weeks later. This time it was the Falmouth Jingle Jog 5k and what a blast. I ended up running this with my wife's cousin and her husband.

As long as I can keep the running injuries at bay, I hope to jump into as many of these 5k and 10k's as I can find. I have acquiesced to the fact that my days of competitive running (and triathlons) may still be many months away, if at all. But I'm extremely grateful to be able to get out there every day either on my sneakers or on my bike. Life is good!

That's all I've got for now. I'd like to wish all family, friends, and any others who stumble on to my site a very healthy and safe holiday period.

Cheers,

Spike