Alpine Gran Fondo

This was two events in one. Or at least that was my expectation. It was the inaugural Jeremiah Bishop’s Alpine Gran Fondo and a fund raiser for the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. The cycling event was pretty neat. The PCAP was disappointing.
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Jeremiah Bishop
told me last night that he planned to call all the fundraisers up front for the roll out. However, when we started, he got in position behind the police car and called for bib numbers 1-15 to join him. Instead, a number of jerks simply move to the front edging out the top fundraisers. Maybe they didn’t hear?

An Alpenhorn signaled the Start
We rolled out and I was quickly in about 10th position. I think for at least the Gran Fondo riders (there were two other rides as well) we stayed together as a peloton for the first 11 miles. Once we got on US 33 the pace picked up or I started to drop back. Doesn’t matter. I was wearing four bibs on my back, the only person to honor or remember those fighting cancer, and I decided that no one would see them if I stayed in 10th position. So I drifted back.Although not a race, we had two timed King of the Mountain climbs. The first one was on US 33 and the peloton sped up as we approached the start of the climb then abruptly slowed down to make sure their timing chips were read. I stayed in the back. I was the last to go through although I think at this point we had a major split in the peloton and I foolishly had been hanging with the first group led out by Jeremiah Bishop.

The climb on the lower slopes of 33 was pretty easy but I thought I would catch and pass someone. Anyone. Nope, no one. Then about half way up the climb some riders from the second group began to catch and pass me. In all, I was probably passed by 20 riders and passed no one. Nada. It’s the first time on a climb with other riders I don’t remember catching anyone. That’s what I get for hanging at the front.

View of WV from the top of US 33
After a screaming descent where I caught some other riders, followed by a brief rest stop, we rolled out to our next turn and this warning sign: “Gravel.” If only it had just been gravel. It was a mud road.The GPS quickly registered 12% and I tried to find a line where I could sit and pedal. I made it up the first mile and a half then saw everybody ahead had dismounted and were pushing their bikes. The GPS registered 25%. I was determined to pass them all. Until all I did was spin. Then I joined them.

I thought I could go where no one had gone before but it was the wise decision to dismount before I fell. It would be fun to tackle this section on a day the road was dry. (Or maybe it wouldn’t.)
I was wise enough to have brought cleat covers which I used while walking in the mud and dirt. Others weren’t so lucky as they reached the top of the climb and found their cleats wouldn’t clip in because of the grit.

Part of the mud climb. This section was good enough to ride.

The profile of the route shows for major climbs. The first, basically the first 23 miles, was on US 33 and had good pavement. The second, around mile 34, was the mud section. All of it. The third section, around mile 47, was on paved roads coming out of Franklin. The fourth, mile 62, was all dirt. Again.
Summit of the first dirt (mud) section

Leaving the rest area at Franklin, West Virginia was a short climb where I was passed by four riders. I was getting passed by everybody and had no response. It may have been my nutrition. Or just my suckage. I planned to take some gels, one for every 15 miles, but left them in the van. Damn.

At the top of the climb coming out of Franklin I summited then hit a four mile descent. I took off and passed a couple of riders. My descending was excellent today. Then a six mile climb began. And a partial transformation. About half way up three men and a woman caught me. I stayed with them for half a mile then dropped off.

Riding by myself I was caught by Jim Mortson. Although he should have dropped me he either eased up or I picked it up but we rode together. About one mile from the top we passed the woman who had been dropped from their group. Then near the top in a 13-14% section, we passed the three men. All walking! I mentioned to them the story of the tortoise and the hair. Fear the Turtle! I hope they weren’t offended.

Jim and I rode to the rest stop at Moyers Gap Road. When we left there were five of us soft pedaling as the road turned to dirt. Unlike the first climb, this road wasn’t mud and one could ride it without spinning out. This was the road up to Reddish Knob.

There were a couple of cones off to the side of the road and a sign “KOM Start.” The King of the Mountain competition. We all kept pedaling. No attacks. Nothing hard. Someone mentioned they’d see us at the top.

I was the oldest of the five and had just been hanging with Jim and had no expectation to staying with him. As we climbed higher the road went from dirt to rocks. Not the loose rocks or heavy gravel but the rocks that were simply part of the road perhaps when the road was grated years ago they were just sheered off. Trying to find a line to ride without running over rocks was impossible.

One guy dropped behind us while two went ahead. Jim and I kept pedaling. I had no idea of the length and it was hard to judge from the trees. Each time I looked up I could see daylight through the trees and thought I was near the summit. I wasn’t. The two guys in front of us pulled over, the relentless climb getting to them.

Jim and I stayed together although at perhaps two miles from the summit he dropped behind me. I never looked back to see where he was.


Summit at Reddish Knob. End of the Dirt Road.

The road was tough to pedal and many times the grade was 11 and 12%. But it wasn’t a 12% average like Mount Washington. I calculated it to be an average 8.1% which is pretty formidable, especially with that road surface.

I continued on alone just wondering where the summit was. And I felt that I was getting stronger. Having already dropped everyone in my group (after believing it would be me who got dropped) I soon caught one of the riders who left the rest stop five minutes before we did. I continued on and the road started to flatten out with 1K to go. I picked up my speed and blew by a rider trying to sprint my way to the finish line although I knew I had no hope of a age group podium.

I went from feeling crappy to passing everyone I rode with. I could have continued on but waited for Jim to come over the top. He was five minutes back of me.

What was most refreshing was there was no cramping. Often at mile 50 or 60 if I have a long climb the cramp monster finds me. Today I felt good. And with Mount Washington type grades I did not have Mount Washington type gearing – just my normal gearing.

The descent was foggy and a little chilly but nothing like France prepared me for in July. Again I bombed it then waited to ride with Jim.

I gave up five minutes waiting at the summit and after the last rest stop maybe as much as 20 minutes more sweeping, waiting for a rider battling asthma. It’s not about the time of the ride – it’s just a ride – and there’s no way I was going to leave a struggling rider behind. Besides, I accomplished what I wanted to.

Having dropped all the climbers in my group on Reddish Knob I was feeling good. We hit some pretty steep rollers and I had drifted to the back to help our struggling rider. Then I made my way up the climb, catching and passing everyone in my group. One guy said “I hate you.” I smiled. With that, I soft pedaled then let them go and dropped back to sweep.

I didn’t post a great time but I enjoyed the ride. I didn’t understand the KOM was cumulative with two climbs and took my time on the first one – 14th out of 14 in my age group. On the second climb I was 8th out of 14.

On the day I say it was 10% fun, 90% suffering and 100% satisfying.

Barry with Jeremiah Bishop
Now the fund raiser.

My expectation was this was a cycling event / fund raiser which ultimately turned into a cycling event. Jeremiah talked of recognizing the fund raising teams but none was made. I spoke briefly with Robert Hess, the founder and president of PCAP after the event and shared with him better ways to improve participation and to get the message out. I was the top fund raiser with $1,000.29. The 29 cents paying homage to the organization 29,

Donating to this event was complicated compared to the sites at LIVESTRONG and Team in Training. There people can search for a participant and donate in their name. Their apps show the top fundraiser giving incentive to others chasing to recruit more donations. People like to see their name in the scroll. And maybe more importantly, while waiting at the finish for official results, the PCAP could have recognized their top fundraisers, or all, including jerseys for the top or certain thresholds.


I took all their Blue Ribbon cookies. Was that wrong?

This was a first time event and they look forward to doing it again. And I look forward to returning.

A Rough Rappahannock Ride


First Rest Stop

In the end it was a rough day. It was a small group that attended this event perhaps kept away by cool, wet weather. The temperature was in the high 50s and there was rain on the first part of the route.

Few houses look like this, actually, this is the only house that looks likes this

Of the three routes on the Rappahannock Rough Ride, the 60-mile ride being the longest, riders were loosely lined up at the start with the long riders at the front. When we rolled out there was a group of four, me, then perhaps 10-12 more riders.

The group of four were about 200 meters in front of me for the first half mile or so and I decided to bridge up to them. That worked well. A group of five. In the first 4-5 miles I pulled a lot then moved over to sit back. We stayed together although the shark’s teeth profile was challenging — just a series of ups and downs, nothing too long, just short steep climbs.

After averaging almost 19 mph for the first 15 miles I lost contact with my group on one of the hills and was caught by eight other riders. They went by me too.

Another view from the First Rest Stop 

Then in the next mile I caught and passed them and joined up with my original group. Strange how this happened. I didn’t turn myself inside out to get back up to the front. Just riding at my pace, so I thought, I rejoined them. The body reacts so strangely sometimes.

We stopped at rest stop one (of two) and got soaked from the steady rain.

I headed out on my own and thought I rode 20 miles without seeing another rider, front or rear. I knew I was on course because of the road markings, the occasional volunteer I’d see at an intersection, and my GPS had been uploaded with the course from last year.

Near Hume I stopped to take a picture of a house I’d like to own and was passed by four riders who had probably been gaining on me the entire time.

After the Marriott Ranch rest stop, it seemed a number of us rolled out together although on the first hill my chain came off the inner ring and turning around to pedal it back into place was enough to make me lose contact. I soloed home after that.

Marriott Rank Rest Stop

I was tired and sore and just not feeling the same as I did last year. I checked my Garmin stats and confirmed, I was slower than last year. A lot. Riding time last year was 3:20 while this year it was 3:40 despite riding the first third of the course at almost 20 mph. Maybe I went out too fast.

The Inn at Little Washington

This was the fifth timed course that I rode this year that I could compare to last year. Beginning with SkyMass in the spring, then the Air Force Crystal Ride, Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb, then the Civil War Century, I have been slower on each and every event.

I can understand being slower on one or two but not all five. This is very discouraging. Father Time knows where I live and has found me.


Cramptown Races


This has become one of my favorite rides. After almost a week of being off the bike due to all the rain from Tropical Storm Lee, it was a gorgeous day.

Right from the start the road turns up with a seven mile climb through Catoctin National Park. Even riding at a comfortable pace I passed three riders in short order. Then a woman wearing a jersey from the Baltimore Bicycling Club just blew by me. Funny how these things work. Even if I thought about “grabbing her wheel” (following her) my body couldn’t respond. Anyhow, I was here to ride comfortably. (Plus it may have been a bit creepy.)

Near the top, my friends Mariette Vanderzon and her fiancee, Rick, came flying by me but I was soon able to latch onto their wheels. And in short order we soon caught and passed BBC girl and never saw her again the rest of the day.

I was riding with Rick and Mariette, and the hill where I could hit 50 mph snuck up on me. Being in a group, and not recognizing where I was, I simply got in a tuck and didn’t pedal. Although I hit 47 mph I was majorly disappointed that I didn’t hit 50. I even thought about turning around and trying the hill again.

We were riding along at a comfortable pace when two guys passed us. Oh boy. I saw Mariette go and catch their wheels and then Rick followed. I couldn’t. But I could watch this play out 100-200 meters ahead of me. There were the three or four of them. Then another rise in the hill and there was Mariette off by herself. Most surprising to me was on the climb to the rest stop at South Mountain I caught and passed both those guys. I wanted to say to them “you shouldn’t have pissed her off.”

I was refueling at the rest stop at South Mountain when Mariette and Rick left. I never saw them the rest of the day.

It was a strange day. Except for the brief interlude when I rode with Mariette and Rick, I never connected with anyone. Just a solo ride. I didn’t even find a train to jump onto except for one brief one going into Gettysburg.

It was a peaceful ride from South Mountain to Antietam and from Antietam to the rest stop at Mt. Aetna.

After the Mt. Atena rest area I pushed off on my own, again, looking forward to or dreading the climb over the mountain near Fort Ritchie. Not sure if this is still South Mountain or not. I was entrenched at my own pace and wasn’t about to join any group. Unless I had good reason.

Mt. Aetna Rest Stop. Three of the Four on course rest
stops for the century ride were at fire houses.

One group passed me but as the road turned up, I passed them, not to see them again. Except for the day I abandoned my climb to the Col du Galibier, I don’t usually make wise decisions when I’m on my bike. Today would be another unwise one. I was cramping. Big time. Sometimes as the pedals moved there would be a sharp pain in the hamstring. Or quadriceps. Or calf. Yet I had lower gears to use.

Last year when I rode here I wasn’t conscious of it at the time but realized at some point on the ride I never used my small front ring. So a goal for today was not to use the small front ring. Stupid.

I turned onto the climb on Ritchie Road and started passing riders. The easy ones were the ones walking their bikes but I passed a number that were still pedaling.

It should be noted these climbs are not the length of the Tourmalet (12 miles) or the steepness of Mt Washington (12%). I can do this. Even while cramping.

I descended to Fort Ricthie and rode ahead to Blue Ridge Summit, Pa.  There I stopped for a picture of my bike in front of the Mason-Dixie marker.

While I was stopped, four riders flew by – two couples, and I saw MY JERSEY! My Alpe d’Huez jersey of which I am so proud. Of which there isn’t another one in the U.S. (so I thought).

When I bought my jersey, the Australian shop owner assured me that I would be
the only rider in the U.S. to have one of these. This is so embarrassing.

I immediately caught up to them and heard someone ask me if I rode it. Of course I rode it. I never got a name but the one couple had just been on Trek Travel’s Classic Climbs of the Alps and of course, rode up Alpe d’Huez. We rode together for the next seven miles to the rest stop at Fairfield. Mugged for the camera never to be seen again.

Note to the yellow jackets at Fairfield: Seen you two years in a row now. Please don’t come back.

From Fairfield I was off again, alone, when I had to stop at a stop sign. That allowed a small group of three to catch me. I gave them the clear sign so they didn’t stop. At first I was going to let them go ahead but then decided to catch a ride. I linked up and sat in. There was a huge guy pulling and two smaller guys following. I assumed they had been working together but it became apparent that the two guys were simply wheel suckers. I sort of felt dirty being one myself although I’m not sure what work I could have contributed. I sat in for 2.5 miles until reaching the battlefield in Gettysburg.

I stopped, took a few pictures, then rode off again. I was hurting and may have been tempted to jump in a SAG vehicle had they offered one so close to the end. I didn’t.

Riding through the Battlefield at Gettysburg is a surreal experience. I felt transported back to the Civil War. One could feel them singing the Cramptown Races. Doo-dah.

I got back to the start/finish and saw the line for Antietam Dairy ice cream to be too long. That was the best part of the ride. Got to my van. Stopped. Started to lift my leg over the cross tube and then let out a yell. Damn cramps.