It was Bike to Work Day and a gorgeous one at that. Chilly, and low 50s to start, but after 10 minutes of riding I quickly was comfortable and wasn’t cursing my decision not to wear arm warmers. Rather than navigate that mess known as Minnieville Road, I drove the van to the commuter lot so that I could take the lightly traveled Telegraph Road instead.
My route would take me down Tanyard Hill Road into Occoquan and across the pedestrian bridge that spans the Occquan River. Then Ox Road (123) to Lee Chapel, Burke Lake Rd., Lake Braddock, Olley Dr., Guinea Rd., some exploring a shortcut which never materialized, then Prosperity Rd. to Gallows Rd. then hooking up with the Washington & Old Dominion trail.
One of the joys of biking is traveling the road less traveled. I bet thousands if commuters travel through or by Occoquan each day without realizing a bridge exists for cyclists. And walkers.
Crossing the Occoquan River. By bike.
At Gallows Road I stopped at a Bike to Work pit stop for my free T-shirt then continued on. In Falls Church I stopped at their lively pit stop. The police officer on duty was Jimmy Brooks, a friend of mine.
Officer Brooks
It was fun seeing Jimmy and he made sure that I knew the ABC’s of cycling. A is for air pressure. B is for brakes. C is for crank (or drive train). He said I passed.
In Washington D.C. I rode by the Washington Monument, even diverting to go through some water sprinklers. It felt good.
My route home was a little different. I followed the Mount Vernon Trail to Four Mile Run to the W&OD. On the Four Mile Run Trail I was about to announce my presence passing a woman, who wasn’t wearing a helmet, when I got a puff. Of her cigarette smoke.
Rather than pass I slowed down and heard a “ding-ding” of a bell from a rider behind me who wanted to pass. I said “you’ve got to be kidding me.” I was thinking out loud why I should warn this woman about me about to overtake her when someone needed to warn her about the effects of smoking.
The guy behind me heard me and started to apologize for ringing his bell. I laughed. I told him what I was thinking and he agreed with me.
Barry with Officer Brooks
Officer Brooks invited me back on my return trip which was fun. Music, smoothies, ice cream, and a slow rider contest which was going slow without put a foot down. I won my heat.
W&OD
After leaving the W&OD at Gallows Road it was then a matter of riding home. The legs felt good. Some days when biking home from work the legs start to hurt after 30 miles but today, after 70, the legs still felt good. It was the best 77.77 miles I have felt on a bike but maybe that’s because I rode slow for BTWD.
But road rage???? In more than 2,000 miles of riding this year I have been honked or yelled at three times. Today? Four. All in Fairfax County. Wow. Somebody who was stuck in a car was grumpy today. Jealous.
I arrived at the start location 30 minutes prior and went to registration. There I paid cash and received – nothing. No wrist band. No packet. No bumper sticker or key chain. No swag. Nothing at all.
Most organized events identify the riders with a wrist band (America’s Most Beautiful Ride) or helmet sticker (Livestrong) which shows who paid and who hasn’t. My thought was some riders may come and just ride. And who would know the difference?
Some of the riders at the mass start
In fact, at America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride one section of the course is closed to only riders who go through a checkpoint. So no interlopers could jump on that course. But here, anyone could just show up and ride.
Is this what happens to riders when they become old?
Benefiting the Law Enforcement United fund, the sheriff’s car had blocked Courthouse Road so that all riders (I’m guessing 200-300 but I have no idea) could roll out together. The first 3-4 miles is a typical roll-out as friends ride with friends and people like me, just find someone their own speed to ride with. I was at the front.
I wasn’t at the front for long. Some people passed me either to share the workload or to tell me I wasn’t fast enough. But I was in the front group. And we were rolling.
The organization did not have a downloadable map so I went to their website, found their cue sheet and mapped out the ride at RideWith GPS. com then downloaded that to my Garmin. And hoped it was right. As we were flying my Garmin beeped – a sign of a turn. I glanced down and it showed a left turn. I looked up and saw a sign that had an arrow – left turn. My group when flying by – straight.
Safely, and quickly, I turned left and yelled ahead “TURN!!!”
It was a reaction. I then soft pedaled to see if anyone would join me as I headed down the road alone. Two guys quickly did although I’m not sure if they were in the front group and had been trailing me. We rode together for a couple of miles and were joined by some others. I don’t know if that front group ever turned around although I assume this was them.
Without a word, we had a nice pace line going. All of us took our turn moving one by one to the front and keeping the pace high. Too high. We were averaging 20 mph over the first 20 miles and I feared that I would pop at any moment.
Yesterday was beautiful — too beautiful. I couldn’t resist the temptation to bike home from work. I took it slow but still had ridden 41 miles the day before this ride. And not that I didn’t think I could do 100 after 40 — it’s just that I can’t ride 100 at 20 mph after riding 40 the day before.
We were flying and I spotted a small sign for a rest stop. I called out and a few of us stopped. We were the first group to go by. The think the rest of our group doubled back and joined us. There were no porta-johns. Just a couple of nice ladies with some water and chocolate chip cliff bars. A church and lots of trees.
After a short break to refill the bottles we reconstituted and took off flying again. It became apparent at some point I would need to find my exit strategy. I couldn’t hang with this group for 100 miles and the question was when and how I would drop off.
After mile 28 we hit an incline, only half a mile, but one where I would typically be shed by such a group. The steep climbs slow everyone but these half-mile 3-4% grades are enough where the young guys just keep the pace high and I can’t match them. But I was although I was struggling.
I just didn’t have the juice in my legs today to power up the climb. So I spun. My cadence was pushing 130 and one rider remarked “your cadence is killing me.” I told him it was killing me too. Remarkably I stayed with them and recovered and we rolled together to the rest stop at mile 40. There they had water, fruit, and cliff bars. And suntan lotion, which would be useful on this sunny day where the temperature climbed to 80 degrees.
Although other riders came in 3-5 minutes after us, when five of our guys took off, I foolishly joined them. I noticed another rider trying to cross New Bridge Road so I asked the group to slow it down for him to join us. They did. To 23 mph. Then I knew.
I knew if this was all they would slow to let a rider catch up that I couldn’t hang much longer. I dropped then paced the rider back up to our group. We rode for a couple more miles and the rider behind me dropped his chain. The group kept going. We hit another rise and here I decided I just couldn’t match every acceleration for 100 miles. At mile 48 I was done.
Then I discovered that until then I hadn’t enjoyed one bit of the ride. If I wasn’t setting the pace I was watching the wheel in front of me. And I was tired. Tired from 40 yesterday and tired from hanging on today, I resigned myself to ride solo over more than half the route and enjoy the ride.
I was in “no man’s land” for more than 15 miles. I knew my group was up ahead and there were plenty of riders behind me but I was in between. And I was OK with that.
The depot at Beaverdam
At Mile 58 I saw a sign for a rest stop at Shiloh Methodist Church. I pulled in and there was nothing there other than a port-john. A couple of riders also pulled in. Although we rolled out together I was in no mood to try to keep up with anyone. I let them go.
Country store in Beaverdam
At Beaverdam, mile 74, I came to a pretty beat up country store. It was just what I needed. I was out of water and I was able to buy some plus a Snickers bar. Only when I left did I see a sign advertising this as a rest stop.
I left trailing some riders and in front of another and that is where I would stay. Never catching anyone and staying ahead of the guys behind me. Not the smartest way to ride but I didn’t have to worry about staying with a group when the legs weren’t up to it.
My Garmin showed 94.5 miles when I arrived back to the start so I kept going. I know Garmin had shut down at mile 5 and it took another 0.5 to get it back but I still wanted to ride to read 100. So I went out another three miles then turned around. Even if they call it a “century,” in my book it’s not a true century unless one rides 100 miles.
On the day I averaged 18 mph for 100 miles.* Probably 19+ with the group and 17- without. But still OK being the first century of the season, the day after riding 40 miles home from work, and one month after knee surgery. And it was windy too.
We crossed Lake Anna eight times, all between mile 30 and 50. Many of the roads were back country roads in the woods although the last few miles were on the busy shoulderless Courthouse Road.
As far as support the ride gets a “D.” Definitely below the average organized event with a very small variety of food at only two locations and nothing after mile 40 when we needed the most. No water unless you had money to stop at a store. But it’s about the ride and most of my rides I don’t look for support, but nor do I pay $45 for that privilege.
___ *Adjusting for the half mile without Garmin the distance was 100.71 miles over 5:35:21 or 18.02 mph.
I was pleased to see “Knock, Knock, Knocking on President’s Door” posted as a Potomac Pedalers ride for today. I last did this ride almost three years ago and suffered. I rode with a broken wrist and a yet-to-be-diagnosed e.Coli infection.
It wasn’t until two years later that I uploaded my data to RidewithGPS.com that I realized how sick I was. I knew I had to come back and ride it “healthy” albeit three years older.
I counted 30 people for this A/BB/B ride. Wheels down at 9:00 a.m. It was 39 degrees. And windy. We split into two groups – the As (and BBs) and the Bs. I looked at the Bs and (foolishly) decided I would try to ride with the As. That is always a bad idea. I should have stuck with the Bs.
In those first five miles we shed a number of riders, all of whom dropped back to the following B group. But I was struggling to keep up with the As.
As we hit a rise I started trailing off as did another rider. He told me that he knew he didn’t belong with them and would be dropped. But then he picked it up, integrated with them and I had to watch from 200 meters back for the next seven miles.
As we hit the serious climb in Cunningham Falls State Park I caught him, rode with him, then dropped him on the climb up Park Central. As we climbed I kept wondering how I did this with a broken wrist three years ago. I couldn’t stand out of the saddle and put weight on my wrist so I had to sit in all ride. I realized that even with a healthy wrist this was a tough climb.
From Mile 5 until the Sheetz break in Thurmont (Mile 31), I was a lone rider. I caught the previously mentioned rider and was passed by a real strong rider, “probably 35” (years old) said another about him. But that was it. I could have been on a solo ride.
At Sheetz the A group was getting ready to ride and foolishly (again) I decided I would ride with them. The rider who had passed me, wearing a green fleece looking jersey, went to the front and set the pace. And pace. And pace.
At the Sheetz in Thurmont
It was windy and perhaps 11 of us were struggling to keep the pace. I was working hard, (struggling) and moved to the back in case I wanted to drop off the pace. That would not be necessary.
At the Sheetz in Thurmont
At mile 43 we hit a rise and two of us dropped off the pace until the top of the hill. I thought the group would soft pedal for 10-15 seconds and let us integrate. Nope.
There had been two women riding and one of them, Stephanie Becker, dropped back when I did. After a few minutes of watching the group 200 meters in front and coming to a stop sign where they had not waited for us I said “I’m Barry.” She may as well should get to know me because we weren’t going to bridge the gap and it was apparent they weren’t interested in playing nice and waiting.
We rode at our own pace, both taking turns in the wind, and riding sensibly until the end. We discovered the group split up not long after we were shed. Just another Potomac Pedalers Ride. Sigh.
Seen on the Ride. From Jeremiah Bishop’s Gran Fondo.
Comparing metrics to three years ago, today wasn’t a whole lot better. I want to think the wind made it harder and I would have done better.
I rode 0.5 mph faster today and I want to believe I would have been at least 1.0 mph faster if not for the wind. My heart rate was only six bpm lower today. But I am three years older. And I’m happy.
It seems like I’ve been down this road before. Too many times. This makes five surgeries in the last eight years.*
Nothing comes close to the cancer surgery two and a half years ago at Johns Hopkins. For that, I could only tell Ashley “this sucks” when she called. Yesterday I was able to tell her a lot more. And “sucks” wasn’t part of it.
I had the same knee surgery in 2006 to remove the torn portion of my meniscus. For that, I was on crutches for two weeks. By the second week, I had returned to work, on crutches, but went to the fitness center at lunchtime to pedal a stationary bike.
When I got home from the surgery yesterday I walked very gingerly to the front door and into the house. I balanced myself against the wall as necessary but never picked up a crutch. Or a pain pill.
Today I got the bike out. I put on tennis shoes, not the clip-ins, and wanted to see if I could pedal.
I can pedal this bike
I could!
I didn’t go far, maybe 200-300 yards. But I went. The doctor said let the pain be my guide.
Pedaling is easier than walking. Unless I’m standing out of the saddle, it’s not supporting my body weight.
I’m not ready for a long ride. But I’m ready to begin recovery. Let the healing begin.
___ *Two foot surgeries, two knee surgeries, and one cancer surgery
Even in “winter,” the climb up Glenwhite Road from Horseshoe Curve is beautiful. There are enough Mountain Laurels that the forest retains a healthy look of green. A white water stream follows much of the road. From the time I turned onto Kittanning Point Road only two cars passed by on the next seven miles. I find it so peaceful riding here and it was a great place to come the day before surgery.
I created a 62 mile (100 km) ride and downloaded it to my bike’s Garmin. When I parked at Logan Valley Mall in Altoona and went to retrieve the route – it was gone. I must have screwed it up. More importantly, that meant I didn’t know where I was headed except up the mountain and I would improvise after that.
When I turned onto Kittanning Point Road I could hear a train above me, struggling to get up the mountain – the wheels creaking under the weight of the load. For a while I was “racing” the train to get to Horseshoe Curve. I smiled when I saw it ahead of me on the curve.
Passing by the Visitors’ Center, I was surprised that Horseshoe Curve was closed for the season. The trains still go by. And so did this cyclist although I did not see a single other cyclist today.
The climb up the mountain was harder than I remembered. I once went up it sitting down and briefly thought that would be today’s goal. Then it was a matter of just getting up it without stopping.
At the top I made it to Gallitzin but did not find the road to Cresson. I ended up at the entrance to the Allegheny Portage Railroad. From here, US Rte 22, the quickest way to Cresson, is a limited access divided four lane road off limits to my bike. I had to slip around the barriers and cut through the park on an access road to Old Rte 22 – Admiral Peary Hwy. I was comfortable cutting through the park even with the barriers in place because I park employee once told me to do that – that’s it’s OK for cyclists to use the access road.
Admiral Peary Highway in Cresson, Pa.
Admiral Robert Peary was an explorer who claimed to have led the first expedition, on April 6, 1909, to reach the geographic North Pole. He was from Cresson. Admiral Peary Highway, from Cresson to Ebensburg is a two lane shoulderless road with almost no flat sections. It’s either descending or climbing. It’s not my favorite road as there is a fair amount of traffic although there was no road rage on this day.
Mount Aloysius College, Cresson, Pa.
Once in Ebensburg, I saw a sign for a Bike Route and thought it was a less traveled road parallel to the main street. Instead it led me to the Ghost Town Trail — a nice rail trail but not suitable for a long ride on a road bike with its crushed limestone base. I rode it for 200 yards then jumped back on the road.
Ebensburg, Pa.
Notice above the red car Christmas decorations are still on the poles.
After Ebensburg I was winging it. I saw Alley Buck Road and remembered seeing that on a map it but didn’t see that it was also Beulah Road going in the opposite direction towards Nanty Glo. After a mile of headed the wrong way and sensing it – I found a man in his yard and asked for directions. He told me to turn around and go back to where I came from. I didn’t know if that was helpful or a warning. A cousin once warned me that the people around here are “rough.”
Ghost Town Trail, Ebensburg, Pa.
I crossed US 422 and headed north — until that didn’t feel right anymore. So I turned south. I didn’t realize that I had come to the town of Colver. I guess I was expecting more. There I asked a father and son for directions to Loretto.
At first they said go to Ebensburg and get on 22. I reminded them that I was on a bike. Then they suggested Peary Hwy. I then told them I needed to take back roads – the most direct route. So they sent me to Carrolltown.
In Carrolltown I was flying down a country road which felt right. Still, as I passed a house and saw a man in his garage I decided to stop. I told him how far I had traveled (50 miles) and that I was headed to Loretto then Gallitzin. He told me that the road would take me to “Loretta (sp).” Yikes, I wondered if we were talking about the same place.
Outside of Loretto/Loretta I stopped a car at a stop sign to make sure I was on the right road. I was.
Loretto, Pa.
In Loretto I talked to a couple about the next leg. Gallitzin. And they say that men don’t ask for directions.
On the road to Gallitzin I saw a mileage sign for “Gallitzin 3.” Then I came to a T and saw a sign “Ashville (left), Cresson (right).” There was no mention to the direction of Gallitzin. Love the Pennsylvania road signs. By feel, I was getting ready to turn right when a car pulled up. I asked directions. And right was correct.
That would begin the last three mile climb of the day, perhaps the hardest, if for no other reason I already had 65 miles in my legs. The last mile in Gallitzin was tough. Narrow steep streets, still with the gravel of winter on them. I didn’t think I would make the last two blocks. Knee hurting, I pushed through.
It’s hard to judge effort and the torn meniscus added pain or robbed me of power but the only other time I felt I would not make a climb was my first time up Mount Washington. I looked for a place to unclip and put a foot down but each pedal stroke got me closer to the top. And then it was a matter of a seven mile descent.
Garmin says my average cadence was 77 rpm. That seems high given all the climbing and lots of coasting, although I didn’t get in a tuck and not pedal nearly as much as one may think. But that’s more than 25,000 turns of the pedals. And every one hurt.
The shop ride at The Bike Lane in Reston was canceled today because of the overnight rain and the rain forecast for most of this morning. But I went to Reston to pick up some bike parts and decided to ride on the W&OD.
I wasn’t prepared for a long ride but the more I rode the more I wanted to ride. Until I bonked.
But it’s the little things that often make a ride. And today had some of those moments.
Around Herndon I passed a young woman, Ellen, who appeared to be just restarting from a stop. I was then surprised to see that she was sitting on my wheel. I wanted to warn her that she should announce her presence lest she be hit by some flying snot rockets, of which there were a few.
We passed a man who had two dogs on leashes and one, a pit bull, appeared determined to CHASE. Someone on a bike. Ellen moved to the outside of me. I thanked her for letting me be closest to the dog.
We didn’t have long together. She was out for a short ride before turning around. But our brief conversation, especially me recalling my encounter with those Pennsylvania dogs was a simple pleasure.
I kept riding and reached Purcellville where I left the W&OD and went to Loudoun Golf and Country Club. There I met my son-in-law, Bryan Snow. Another simple pleasure.
With Bryan Snow at Loudoun Golf and Country Club
The ride to Purcellville was tough. A strong wind was blowing — at times it was a direct head wind while at other times it was a cross wind. Plus it is a gradual uphill climb to Purcellville.
The terminus of the W&OD at Purcellville
I had hoped for a strong tail wind on the return but the winds were swirling and were mostly cross winds. So I fought it all day. I was not prepared for a long ride, I had no water or food. And no money either. About 10 miles from the finish I felt it. I bonked. I was out of energy. I knew it because even the slightest grades and I was out of the saddle rather than sitting and producing a constant pedaling rhythm.
While it’s not weighing on my mind like the cancer surgery of 2 1/2 years ago, my upcoming surgery has me appreciating each remaining ride until I take the forced time off the bike. And appreciate the little things such as a simple conversation or a short visit.
But next time I’ll take some food. Or at least water.
I wasn’t sure that I would get back here. I was here to attend a fundraiser last night for Jake Grecco, a 7-year old battling brain cancer — he’s also the son of my 4th cousin, Stacey Lowmaster. After the fundraiser when Stacey asked if we would like to meet Jake. All cycling was off. Jake trumps cycling every time.
L-R: Gary Gravina, Betsy Sherry, Stacey Gravina, Jake Grecco, Barry Sherry
After a wonderful morning visiting Jake and his family, then saying goodbye to my sister, Betsy, I realized I still had just enough time to return and finish yesterday’s ride. It was windy but not with the unsafe gusts of yesterday. The route, downloaded to my Garmin, proved to be one with lots of turns. I had no idea where I was going – In Garmin We Trust.
Valley Preferred Velodrome, Trexlertown, Pa.
I retraced yesterday’s attempted route for six miles and then went down some new roads. I had hoped to ride 26 miles without putting a foot down but when I came to a beautiful barn I knew I had to stop to take some pictures.
A barn
I found a unique shed with implements attached to the outside. I stopped at the foot of the driveway then asked permission “to come aboard.” The owner was very pleased that I asked permission to photograph his shed and glad that I found it interesting.
Longswamp B&B
Near Kutztown I realized I was in Amish Country. I passed an Amish wood working shop then met a group of cyclists coming in the opposite direction. They had good form but wore no helmets. They were on road bikes but wore no “fancy” cycling clothes. Then I realized they were young Amish men returning from church. I wanted a photo but respected their beliefs and simply waved. And they waved back.
I turned down a country road and spotted two women with three large dogs. And I had to go past them. I love dogs but still remember my encounter in 2010 in which two Rottweillers tried to get to know me better. I didn’t want to pedal past them and trigger a chase reaction. Well, a chase and bite reaction.
Amish School
I slowed then called out “safe to pass?” One of the women said it was although the three dogs were running loose. They may have had different ideas. So I stopped. The women gathered up the dogs and two of them came over to sniff me and say hello.
We were friends. At this point, I was about three miles from the finish. I just pedaled home thankful for another day on the bike. After returning home, I found out from my cousin, Doug Sherry, that I had passed about two miles from his house. I feel so bad. Next time he better have food waiting.
We, or at least I, have a saying: There are three types of riding – “Safe, unsafe, and stupid.” And often the line between unsafe riding and stupid riding is blurred.
I came to Trexlertown, Pa. which is home to the famous Valley Preferred Cycling Center’s Velodrome. It was cold (38°) and windy (winds were steady at 30-40 mph with gusts even higher). I had budgeted time to ride before meeting my sister, Betsy, in Allentown.
Sorry, folks! America’s Favorite Velodrome is Closed for the Season.
Snow was blowing. The roads were bare so the snow wasn’t sticking but it was blowing. And here in the mecca of east coast cycling, I saw no one.
I took my time. I didn’t want to go out in this weather but knew I must. Ten minutes passed. The van was rocking from the wind and I could feel the cold air blowing in. I didn’t want to go but yet…
…I was here and it was time to MAN UP!!
Trexlertown, Pa.
Then I saw three cyclists arrive and that was my cue. If they could ride, I had no excuses. I kitted up and headed off. I had briefly thought about asking to join them but figured they were stronger than me. Plus I am nursing a torn meniscus so I didn’t need to push it to keep up.
I headed off into the wind. And it was strong. I had downloaded a ride that was on RideWithGPS to my Garmin bike computer with just the right distance (28 miles) and turns (a bunch) to be interesting. After 3-4 miles of fighting the winds I saw three cyclists coming at me and they were soft-pedaling. It was the three guys that had been in the parking lot.
Angry flags whipping in the cold air
My thought only turned to how slow they were going, with the wind, and me kicking myself knowing I could stay with them. I regretted not going with them.
I then hit the open road unprotected by houses or trees; just open fields. The winds were howling. At times they were incredibly loud and other times there was an eerie silence. Down the road, a gust hit me and almost caused me to crash. I fought with both hands to steer and although I stayed upright, I had been blown across both lanes of the country road. Had another car been passing me, or another one been coming from the opposite direction, I would have been in a crash with an automobile. It was scary that I could not steer the bike in a straight line. Nor could I hear cars coming because the winds were howling so loud.
This was stupid riding. I guess it took me to realize that it was stupid to know that it was unsafe. And it was very unsafe. At that point, I decided I had to turn around.
I was determined to retrace some of my route but also to follow road signs for the shortest way back to the start. And then I discovered why my three friends were going slow even with a tailwind. They couldn’t hold their bikes in a straight line. I thought a tailwind was a reward for fighting the wind but today it was no reward. Today it was a menace.
In a year in which all my rides thus far went a minimum of 16 miles, I had to cut this off at 11 for which I was thankful. I was smart enough to park the bike knowing I can ride another day.
Now stupid riding was yesterday. Bob Ryan (NBC meteorologist) had forecast a high of 70° and I came prepared for 70°. It never got out of the 50s and I headed out for a ride in the pouring rain. Stupid.
I went around Hains Point and was soaked. What was the point? I hadn’t done a ride all year less than 16 miles and riding in the cold rain became a matter of pride. I couldn’t let this be the shortest ride of the year. So I suffered on. Yesterday was stupid.
Today — today was simply unsafe. It is why it was the shortest ride of the year although in a few days when I start evening rides I will go shorter.
This area is beautiful. I would like to return some other day but without these winter winds.
EDIT/EPILOGUE – This was my first day riding, or attempting to ride, at the Velodrome in Trexlertown. Cancer sucks but it has also giving me lots of opportunities and friendships that I otherwise would not have had. One of those has been an annual trip to Trexlertown with Spokes of Hope. I would come back to the Velodrome late each summer and have a chance to ride on the track as well as a Saturday morning group ride to Topton and back.
My knee has been hurting, especially when walking or running. I don’t remember a traumatic injury – in fact, I don’t think there was one. But it was always worse after I played Ultimate (sometimes incorrectly called Ultimate Frisbee). Since there wasn’t an injury I just have to think how long this has been bothering me. Probably about 10 weeks.
I sucked it up. I took a deep breath. I manned up. I went to see my doctor.
My doctor did some range of motion tests and diagnosed it: Torn meniscus.
After the doctor visit I went for a bike ride. There is nothing better to clear the mind and just enjoy the ride. And it was a day that I went over 500 miles for the year — on February 17.
Usually I have 100 miles or less by this date. My fast start? Maybe too good to be true.
I have no answers. I do have fear. Fear that at age 65 I will not be able to walk.
I had foot surgeries in 2003 and 2004. And a torn meniscus in 2006.
Wonder what this means?
I have some cycling goals for 2012 — Ride the Rockies. Mount Washington. Now I don’t know.
But my doctor says cycling is the best thing I can do. So I will continue to ride. Even though it hurts.
I’m frustrated. I don’t know what’s next. But when life gives you lemons, go for a bike ride. So I did.
While making a presentation about her experience at the last summer’s Women’s World Cup in Germany, Kari Seitz looked at me and asked, “are you a cyclist?”
I didn’t hear anymore she said after that. If you want to get on my good side, just ask me if I’m a cyclist. Here I was in a referee workshop and she recognized me as a cyclist. I wasn’t wearing spandex and she didn’t see my legs. She saw a cyclist’s body – no upper body, strong legs.
Or did she see my phone with its collection of jerseys on the covers?
“Did you bike up Alpe d’Huez?,” she asked.
Damn. It was my phone. My phone gave me away.
But Kari Seitz, who is certainly the best female referee in the world, settled into a conversation with me about cycling. And she is a cyclist.
One of these refs is the best referee in the world
Kari told me that if she had retired from refereeing a couple of years ago she would have jumped right into racing. And I’m sure she would have been very good. To be a FIFA Referee you have to be near-world class in both sprinting and endurance running. Plus you have to be a good ref too.
I was able to tell her about my ride up Alpe d’Huez. I told her I have gone over 50 mph on my bike and she one-upped me. She has gone over 60 mph. On a tandem. Her husband is a Cat-2 racer and while they have their own bikes they also have a tandem.
Kari told me they like to go out for recreational rides on their bike and they often see some racer types intent on overtaking them. She said she has a signal and right before they get passed, they put the hammer down and leave them in the dust. She smiled as she talked about how demoralized it leaves them.
While I was somewhat disappointed that I couldn’t ride today, meeting Kari Seitz and talking about cycling was a trade off I would make any day.
