Long before I owned a road bike, I was riding long distances and generally hating roadies. Now that I am one, I generally hate roadies. Well, dislike them.
Early in the season, I rode by myself from The Plains, Va. to Naked Mountain, and then some country roads. On the drive back I stopped at the Sheetz in Haymarket and saw Vince Amodeo next to the road. I went over to talk with him and learned he had been on a 50-mile group ride, by invitation, and within the first five miles, the group dropped him and a couple of other riders. The Problem With Roadies.
Yesterday I rode to Fredericksburg and yelled out five times “Morning!” to roadies I passed. The number of responses I got back? None. The Problem With Roadies.
Roadies are perceived as arrogant and snobbish. We ARE arrogant and snobbish. We don’t say hi to others when they call out. We drop riders who are a little bit slower than us.
I love to ride but I don’t want to be perceived as a roadie. Let me always enjoy the ride but always remember why I ride. To have fun. Slow down. Talk a little. Wait for those who are slower. And I can say that because I have been dropped many more times than I have had to wait for others.
Yesterday I started on the valley floor near Bedford, Pennsylvania. Following Pa. Bicycle Route “S” I went through New Baltimore but saw a sign for a covered bridge. Even though I was in a hurry to get to my niece, Emily Cramer’s, graduation party/picnic, I also took the time to stop and admire the bridge.
The road stayed flat, although in actuality it had been tilted slightly up for the first couple of miles. But once I turned on Wambaugh Hollow Road it turned up in a hurry. There were grades of 13-14% on this road as it crossed under the Pennsylvania. Turnpike. The Turnpike would go through Allegheny Mountain. I would ride over it on Pa. Rte. 31.
It was a nine-mile climb over the mountain and then had some extreme rollers all the way into Somerset. I was enjoying the descents and climbs too when I thought I saw someone far ahead. At first, I thought it was a cyclist. Then a walker. Then a tractor. Whatever it was was still pretty far away.
I had to climb then crest another hill and thought I would have caught it but when I went over the top I didn’t see a thing. I figured he turned off on a country side road. But on the next climb I saw and then caught him.
“It” was a fully loaded bike with gear off both sides and the back. The rider was standing and pedaling to get all that weight up the hill. I quickly closed the gap and then blew by him. As I did I asked “Where did you come from and where are you going?”
He replied “New York” and said he was following Rte 31. I told him I would wait at the top of the hill.
And so I met Rolf. From Denmark.
He told me he was going to get something to eat in Somerset and I told him I would take him to a picnic. And so I did.
We showed up at Emily’s picnic and he was able to eat as much as he wanted.
Rolf had a wedding present and nice clothes on his bike for a couple who were getting married in Vancouver. On July 9. He’s not going to make it.
But everyday he rides until about 6:00 p.m. Then finds a place to sleep.
His adventures have taken him from Alaska to South America. Just following the wind. And the road. And occasionally with help and guidance of people he meets along the way. People who say hi. People who slow down and wait for others. I am glad I waited. The Problem With Roadies.
People often comment and ask how I meet the most interesting people. Just slow down. Wait. Say hello.
Two years ago I set out from Woodbridge to ride to Charles Town for Fathers’ Day. Dark clouds were in the air and the metaphor was obvious.
Today there were dark clouds, and even a little rain, but no metaphors.
There was a Potomac Pedalers “CC” ride out of Marshall, the Blue Ridger, and I first thought that I would drive to Marshall and ride with them to Rte 7 and then break off and head to Charles Town. But the more I thought about it the more I knew I didn’t want to join them.
Their route would be in the traditional counter-clockwise direction which means they would put in 25 miles before they do any climbs. I wanted to climb Naked Mountain and Mount Weather.
I watched them take off at 8:40 a.m. and I was on the road six minutes later. In the opposite direction. My route choice would let me do the climbs.
It’s been a while since I climbed Naked Mountain in this direction. It kicks up to 17% on this grade. From Markham it’s a 3.5-mile climb to the top and from Rte 17 at Paris, it’s a five-mile grind to the high point on Mount Weather.
My descent to Rte 7 got me to 47 mph. I could have gone faster but had to stop at the bottom of the hill. This is also where I met the Potomac Pedalers group. I left six minutes later and traveled 30 miles and climbed two mountains including 8.5 miles of climbing on two slopes in the time they went 25 miles and had no climbs. That was a slow ride and one I was glad not to be a part of.
And to be fair, they may have had a 20-minute rest break at the general store in Bluemont. I’m not a fan of long stops either.
At Rte. 7 I turned left (west) and headed down to the Shenandoah River. Following a new route, I took Shepherd’s Grade Rd to Wycliffe then Kabletown, before finding Old Cave Road.
I never unclipped or put a foot down for 50 miles from the start until I got within a mile of Ashley’s place. At a railroad crossing that was blocked for repairs, I had to walk my bike over the tracks.
The uncertainty of what lies ahead weighed deeply on my mind two years ago. Today I thought of my life as a survivor. A much different Fathers’ Day ride.
Not sure if I would have come back to the Air Force Cycling Classic had not Adam Lewandowski put out a call to The Bike Lane group to ride it together. So I decided I would come back even after not quite forgiving them for only crediting me with two laps last year instead of the eight that I had done.
Registration went smooth. This year the timing chip was on a comfortable Velcro strap worn around the ankle. Hopefully it worked as well as it fit.
The course wasn’t quite the same as last year. This year it featured two turns of180 degrees which was a little hairy given the family nature of the cyclists.
On the first lap I stayed with my team and even was taking a pull at the beginning of the second lap. Then amidst all the “bottle” warnings of bottles on the road from being violently shaken loose from the bikes – the pavement was awful – my Garmin GPS flew off. The mount broke although the Garmin was OK. I had to stop, go back, and gather it. I was done riding in my group.
I put it in my back pocket and pulled it out each lap to reset the lap. It seemed to pick up mostly although there are some place where it looked like I went off course. Maybe my mileage should be a little higher.
At the end of the day I averaged 19.5 mph when moving, that is, when I’m not walking back to find my Garmin. And I got the “gold” medal for completing 8 laps within the 3.5 hour time window.
Last year I set some cycling goals for my recovery. Well, not so much goals as trips. Return to Mount Washington. Go to France.
The excitement of doing this ride faded as time got closer. An unfavorable weather forecast and the feeling that I wasn’t quite ready to pack everything I needed contributed. My bike was being repaired and this was to be my dry run of tearing it down and flying with it before I flew to France next month. I became apprehensive.
My bike was not ready and my local bike shop gave me a rental/demo and that was the bike I would fly with. I flew into Reno yesterday then drove to South Lake Tahoe for check-in. It was cold and rainy. I hoped for better for the ride although the forecast was a high of 52° and showers.
Out of the hotel by 5:00 a.m. this morning, I crossed the mountain to Stateline, Nevada where the ride would begin. It was cold and raining, hard at times. I grabbed my jacket but at 5:55 a.m. the rain stopped. I decided not to wear my cold weather shoe covers. Nor did I wear a base layer under my jersey. And I simply forgot my headcover to go under my helmet. I would regret those decisions.
I was in line at 6:00 a.m., the earliest departure group from the Horizon Casino. I wasn’t that close to the front but think that in addition to the 15-minute interval start times they may have been sending us off in 5-minute groups as well. It was “wheels down” at 6:07 a.m. Then it started raining. On the roll-out, and it was an easy ride, we passed a bank that displayed the temperature — 38°.
There was something about today that I never experienced before on a ride. In the first 10 miles, it was effortless and that was due to more than just a basic flat profile. I felt I could ride forever.
There were 3,300 registered participants but I wonder how many Californians and Nevadans simply bagged it because of the bad weather? This is Team in Traning’s (TNT) premier century event and 1,500 slots were taken by the TNT riders. Their bib numbers were purple whereas everyone else wore red. Throughout much of the day, I felt like we were crashing their party although we had them outnumbered. It just didn’t seem that way. So I joined them. I “low fived” TNT supporters at many places along the course. I yelled “Team” when I saw them and I encouraged the hundreds of TNT riders I passed on the road.
I would have liked to have been a TNT rider but was told by one of my ref crews a few weeks ago that the fundraising goal was “too high” to go to Tahoe. I asked a DC rider and was told $3900. Having raised $10,000 for LIVESTRONG, I didn’t think I could go to the well again for a free trip to ride. Also, I was not committed to the training aspect, listed as 4-5 months, to get riders ready for their first century ride. I’ve done plenty at that distance and while it would have been fun helping train or coach others, I didn’t have the time available for such a commitment.
I talked to a lot of people along the way. Almost everyone I passed I said “Morning” to (an abbreviated form of Good Morning) and for many, I asked where they were from. Many of the TNT folks had jerseys with their locations so I made it a point to talk to National Capital Area and Western Pa. riders. Go Stillers!
Around mile 7 or 8 one rider was beside me and we must have been going the same speed.
Facing a long day in the saddle, cold and wet, one could complain or simply go have fun. I went to have fun.
The climb up Emerald Bay was nice and we passed many riders. I checked my heart rate. It was in the 130s. Rodrigo said his was in the 160s. It was effortless going up the 9-10% grade. I knew then it would be a good day. While I froze.
I told Rodrigo that I remembered being here 15 years ago and there was a scenic view stop on the right. We had been on spring break vacation. We came to Tahoe and there was lots of snow in the mountains. Bethany was 15, Ashley 10, and Andrew 7. In town, we had seen some guy and it was almost that he was stalking us. Everywhere we went he was right behind. Creepy.
We drove up to Emerald Point and admired the view and the snow. As we were leaving this stalker drove up. He got out of his car and promptly fell on his ass. It was one of those moments that you shouldn’t laugh but the kids about busted a gut laughing so hard. And we did too. We never saw him after that.
I knew that I would have to stop for a photo op. And we found it. It was the first rest area too although we did not stop to rest or take on any food. Just a picture. In the freezing rain.
We continued in the rain with a brief stop on a descent when Rodrigo’s sunglasses fell off. I stopped and eventually went back. By then a number of people had gathered. First, a car came by and just crushed his glasses. Second, by stopping, one rider crashed. Oops.
We made it to our first rest stop, used the porta-johns, took on some food, made a seat adjustment, then took off. We were both near hypothermic. I was shivering, shaking, and just couldn’t warm up. Riding in the cold was fine but that 10-15 minute break cooled us down. It would take about 10 minutes to warm up once we were back on the road.
Rodrigo is a big guy. He appears very strong and this was evident when we turned on Route 89 at Tahoe City to head to Truckee. With all the rain it was not a time to follow someone’s wheel like we normally ride. All you got was a mouthful of road spray. Rodrigo gapped me and kept going, at times was about 100 yards out in front. I couldn’t match his pace on this downhill portion. But we came back together.
On the way back from Truckee to Tahoe City along the Truckee River, it was uphill and we stayed together. More than 50 miles had passed quickly and we stopped briefly at the Squaw Valley entrance – this the site of the 1960 Winter Olympics.
Although we saw some dark clouds ahead, we rolled into King’s Beach just as the sun was coming out and it warmed up to 50°, which seemed like 80°. Nice. We were greeted at the rest stop by Rodrigo’s family. His wife brought him new glasses. Very nice. And she warned of heavy rains ahead. Not so nice. And she would be right.
We spent a lot of time at this stop. It was the lunch stop and I had a turkey sub. And lots of snacks. The food here was great. Rodrigo spent time with his family. We ate.
On the day I spent two hours off the bike. That is very unusual for me as I like to stop at 2-3 stops for a natural break, refill the bottles, then grab some food and eat while on the bike.
With Rodrigo’s wife and kids here, plenty of good food, and the warmth of the sun even though it was only in the low 50s, we probably stayed close to one hour at this stop.
As we rolled out, Rodrigo, a one-time veteran of this ride, warned me about Incline Village. A number of the rich and famous have second homes here and I have been told that includes Brad Pitt and Bruce Jenner and the Kardashians. Maybe/maybe not. But Mike Love (Beach Boys) and Michael Milken do live here. (Read it on Wikipedia so it must be true.)
If there was a place that I lost speed compared to the normal terrain it was here. Although there was a three-mile stretch of straight road along Crystal Bay, there were plenty of stop signs each with a volunteer or policeman to make sure bikes stayed in single file and each one stopped completely at the stop sign. A bit ridiculous that four bikes with no traffic following couldn’t roll-up side by side, slow down to 2-3 mph, then take off. But those are their rules and we played by them.
We turned back onto Rte 28 for the ride up Spooner Summit. Here a real break occurred in the riders. Riding casually, we had been passed by two women of the DC Chapter of TNT. We soon caught them and they had joined a group of six or seven, all riding single file on Rte 28. We stayed together until the road turned up. One of the women dropped. So did Rodrigo. The woman I was following passed everyone until there was just the two of us. It started raining again. Heavy this time. The rain turned to sleet. There was just the two of us until she dropped. Then it was just me on the climb.
I passed one woman who asked how many miles we had ridden. I looked down and told her 82. She didn’t believe me and then I said “if you’re riding 100.” She said wasn’t. There were 72 (no trip to Truckee) and 35-mile (boat across the lake) options too.
One week ago I sucked. It hurt going up Skyline Drive and it hurt more going up Massanutten. I thought Father Time finally caught up to me. And I was ready to quit. Visions of leading C and D rides danced through my head.
And now at Mile 80, my legs felt as fresh as the first thing in the morning. Never have I ridden 80 miles and my legs felt like this. I wish I knew the secret. No, it’s not EPO or Clenbuterol.
What was different about the three or four days prior to this ride that was different about SkyMass? Too much riding? Too little riding? Nutrition? Altitude?
Not only did I climb well, the entire ride was from 6,000 feet to 7,100 feet except for the dip to Truckee which was 5,900 feet. I thought less O2 in the air meant fewer blood cells and less recovery. More soreness. I don’t know.
From Spooner Summit it was about a 14-mile descent to the finish line with a few rollers at the end. I had been warned that the route was not quite 100 miles so I passed the finish line and circled back to make it 100.
I’ve never been dirtier from a ride than this one. Just lots of sand along the road made worse by the rain. We rode 32 miles in steady or heavy rain but 68 miles without it. Of course when we weren’t being rained on we were still soaked. My white cycling socks will never be white again and I wonder if they will ever dry out.
But I’ve never felt fresher after a ride than this one. No soreness. It wasn’t my best time on the bike but I wasn’t going for time. I just never felt better during or after a ride of this length. In addition, the weather conditions made it a test of willpower.
Logistically, I wanted to do this as a test trip before I go to France. That passed. I built and tore down the bike and am comfortable with those minor repairs. Last year I went to France with Trek Travel and they supplied the bikes. In a few weeks, I will be going on my own and carrying my own bike.
This was a day reserved for appreciating beauty and celebrating being cancer-free. Not only was this one of my recovery goals it was also National Cancer Survivors Day. I never thought I’d do a six-hour century (riding time) here and I didn’t try. With the slow down and stops in Incline Village, the most stop lights I have encountered on a century ride, and a slow rollout at the beginning, I had no dreams of anything less than seven hours on the bike.
Just one week after suffering on SkyMass, I felt great on the bike. Father Time, I guess it’s not my time. Yet.