barrysherry - peaceonabike

August 4, 2018January 24, 2024

Stranger on the Road

RICHLAND, PENNSYLVANIA

Each year I look forward to my ride from Somerset to the family reunion near Punxsutawney (which is actually Winebark Park in Canoe Twp., near Rossiter). When my parents lived in Friedens, I barely had enough time to get there. But when they moved to Somerset I just didn’t have enough time to travel there safely before the noon meal. The road from Somerset to Friedens at 6:00 a.m. is just too sketchy.

Rather than leave in the dark, I checked with my nephew, Josh Reese, and parked at the Kia dealership in Richland. It was easy-off, easy-on for access from US Rte 219. When I arrived there was a heavy fog and I delayed my start until I felt safe enough.

Good morning Johnstown! The Inclined Plane.

Leaving the Kia parking lot is a little like riding the Thunderbolt roller coaster at Kennywood Park in Pittsburgh for the first time. Rather than start by pedaling, I almost could take a half pedal turn then coast for three and one-half miles.

Of course, I didn’t do that. It was all downhill and I pedaled most of the way, only occasionally dropping into a tuck and coasting. What a great way to begin a trip. Rather than go through Johnstown as fast as I could I went sight-seeing, mainly taking some photos of the Inclined Plane.

Who doesn’t like a picture of a caboose? (Walnut Street at William Penn Ave.)

The road (Pa. Rte 271) out of Johnstown is through East Conemaugh and up a mountain. But it seems to be graded at a consistent grade, I would guess around 4%, and I always find it easy (although my climb data may disagree). Traffic was mostly good as I went through Mundy’s Corner, Nanty Glo and Twin Rocks up to US 422 at Belsano.

I was on US 422 for less than half a mile then turned on (and stayed on Rte 271). I was surprised about a mile in to pass a bike trail crossing. This was an extension of the Ghost Town Trail. It looks like a nice trail, very lightly traveled, but best for bigger tires and not this road bike. At least for long distances.

This is always my favorite part of the trip – the 13 miles to Northern Cambria. Rte 271 has good pavement, little traffic, and is easy pedaling, with only one climb along the way (up to Nicktown). I could smell the corn in the field. And occasionally, manure.

I stopped at Duman Lake to use a porta-john and also for a photo op. There is a climb to Nicktown which I only later learned was a Strava Segment. I didn’t know I was racing. I will have to come back tomorrow and put up a decent time.*

At Nicktown is a four mile descent to Northern Cambria. On past rides, I have hit 49 mph but today only went to 44 mph and got in a tuck. That was fast enough (and was also the speed limit – 45 mph). I have found that since my crash in Ohio I am more cautious than I have been and I have never been careless.

On the climb up 271 (Blue Goose) towards Nicktown

I stopped in Northern Cambria and saw my cousins, Don and Nancy Lowmaster, and their daughter. I couldn’t stay long but enjoyed the short time we had.

As I was leaving Northern Cambria, I was passed by a truck pulling a trailer with a small tractor on it. The driver got out and as I approached, motioned for me to pull over. This did not feel like an angry setup and I complied. Then he asked if I was “the Barry Sherry.” Well, I admitted as much. But who was that stranger?

The driver was Mike Peronne, the former postmaster in Cherry Tree, Pa. We had never met but we had talked and he knew once a year I rode through here. And he said “and I saw your hair and figured it was you.” LOL. We talked for about five minutes before we both headed up 219 towards Cherry Tree.

The rest of the trip I thought about that interaction with the stranger. Those last 20 miles are the hardest as the road turns heavy and there is a lot of climbing. Steep climbing and grades that don’t remain constant.

The last couple miles are on Porterfield/Canoe Ridge Road and pass a few Amish homes. A little girl in a blue dress excitedly waved to me. Of course, I waved back. As did a boy about 10-12 years old. And a man climbing a ladder. It is always enjoyable riding through this stretch because the Amish are always so friendly to me. I think they relate to cyclists as they ride bikes and we face the same dangers on the road they do whether it’s by bike or by horse. And I am the stranger to all of them.

_____
EDIT/EPILOGUE – I did go back on Sunday. Can’t believe a crappy time on Strava would bug me enough but I could not leave those two climbs (the other Station Road coming out of Twin Rocks) with such bad times. So on Sunday, I went hard, first on Station Road Climb. Since I started at Krispy Kream and basically went downhill to Twin Rocks, the “engine” wasn’t warmed up. Still, I lowered my time from 7:38 to 5:30, a reduction of 23%. When I got to Blue Goose Climb I was warmed up. I went hard and lowered my time from 8:26 to 7:10 which was only a reduction of 15%. Aaah. I’ll never get KOMs on these climbs but at least my name isn’t associated with sucky times anymore. And on my way back, I went through a new segment that I wasn’t aware of. My time sucked. Must go back again.

At least I finished with a good recovery drink. In a cone.

July 22, 2018August 21, 2020

MS-150 Day 2

HOLLIDAYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

Yesterday was a day of riding solo. My one attempt at riding in a group had a brief discussion that I initiated.

“Where’s your group from?” (To the Old Men on Bikes)

“Bedford County”

“Well you know these roads. Have you ridden over Locke Mountain?”

“No”

End of discussion. It was going nowhere.

So I ended up riding solo. Knowing I should let a group catch me, part of me thought what was the use. No one was talking except to their friends and I brought no one.

No one asked me about my bib for Bethany, although at the finish I did talk with Ellen Kovacevic about her. We also talked about her and her husband’s recent trip to France with Trek Travel.

Today I started DFL (that means last). Actually, I was last of the riders lined up at 7:00 a.m. to ride. A few may have jumped in after the 7:00 start.

We had rain from 4:00 p.m. yesterday until about 6:00 a.m. this morning. While the forecast was hopeful (15% chance of rain), the roads were wet at 7:00 a.m. It was 55 degrees and I didn’t even think to bring arm warmers. It’s summer. I did have a rain jacket which I put on though.

At the back the group spread out. I “sat in” for four miles until I was finally able to make my way to the front of this back group and go off the front. Of course, all the fast riders and groups were already gone.

I rode on the wet roads, a bit fearful at times. I passed the first rest stop, motoring on to the second one at Camp Kanesatake outside of Spruce Creek. It was 18 miles in before I saw the first section of dry pavement. It would be cloudy, and windy, the rest of the ride, but we were done with the rain.

At the rest stop I was served ice cream by the two Dairy Princesses from Huntingdon County, Brooke Emery and Mikara Anderson. I really enjoy seeing the kids (although Brooke is 21) supporting agriculture. The ice cream, mint chocolate chip, was delicious.

On the road I was solo again. Shortly after leaving camp, I caught and passed five riders then settled in. I was catching no one and no one was passing me.

A thorn between two roses. Brooke Emery (L), Mikara Anderson (R)

I rolled by the lunch stop and saw no one ahead of me the rest of the day. It was almost my personal ride. In truth, there had to have been riders in the first group that weren’t delayed for four miles that did the same thing and were already finishing.

When I was in Altoona, I saw three riders come from another street and get ahead of me. “They cut the course,” I said to myself. I didn’t understand it but when it was raining I thought about the short way to Tyrone to just get to the finish. Ultimately I decided to ride the course as designed, in part so the volunteers didn’t lose track of helping us if we needed it.

Our “normal” return in Hollidaysburg was blocked off by road construction. We were diverted for a mini Tour de Hollidaysburg. It didn’t seem we had to see the downtown but I wonder if the organization wanted us to see Hollidaysburg or for Hollidaysburg to see us. Either way, it was a great choice.

At the finish it was shower, eat (alone) then hit the road. Another MS ride done but I will seriously consider other (closer) events for the future. It was strange connecting with no one.

July 21, 2018August 25, 2020

MS-150

STATE COLLEGE, PENNSYLVANIA

A Tale of Five Segments

First, they had plenty of bibs “I Ride For…” at the start. I had made one ahead of time for Bethany and added one for Kristi Wallace and Kayla Bracken. I was the only one I saw wearing a bib and no one asked me about my daughter from seeing it.

SEGMENT ONE – Hollidaysburg to Roaring Spring (19 miles)

I rolled out in the front group. I don’t know if it was the first 100 (ish) or the entire ride. I settled in and we dropped some slow riders but were going at a steady pace. Each time the group was splitting, usually on a hill, I was able to stay with the front group.

Two riders wearing kits from Spokes and Skis (a sponsor) joined us. I recognized one as Bryan Caporuscio, the owner. It was six years ago I jumped into their group ride and when I asked “Bryan?” he said “Barry!” He had remembered me from that one brief half-ride. I knew that he and his friend, Jeff, would be looking to hammer it today. They moved towards the front but I stayed with them until they caused a split. I was too far back to try to bridge, nor was I up to the effort it would take.

I did find myself at the front of the main group and stayed there until finding a train station in Roaring Spring. It is a ride, not a race, and I went off the front then stopped and grabbed my photo. I was happy I stayed with the group all the way to the first stop until the photo.

My train station photo in Roaring Spring

SEGMENT TWO – Roaring Spring to Williamsburg (15 miles)

I rolled out alone (I rolled out of every stop alone today except for the mass start) and caught seven riders in Martinsburg. I sat on the back for a while. It appeared three (wearing yellow/white) were working and four (wearing blue and black and green) were getting a free ride.

I moved to the front and helped work. In fact, I was afraid I rode them off my wheel but after two miles I discovered they were with me. So now there were four of us. I took my turn until, a photo. Again, I went off the front, exited safely, and went back for the picture.

Martinsburg, Pa. – The blue jerseys are from OMBO – Old Men on Bikes

Back on the road a group (with momentum) passed me. I joined them, eventually went to the front and dropped them. Damn me.

SEGMENT THREE – Williamsburg to Camp Kanesatake (17 miles)

I rolled out alone. The yellow/white group had grown and looked like they were ready to roll. I decided to soft pedal until they caught me then I would join them. They went by and it appeared there were 15 of them plus about five others. I jumped in.

We got blown apart on the first big climb, and I stayed with their three leaders. I found they were not a friendly bunch, at least to this stranger, I eventually let them go and the remnants of their original group came by. I jumped in. I moved to the front to Camp Kanesatake for lunch.

Lunch was at the camp. I got the feeling I was the only one on the ride that wasn’t riding with a friend or partner. I sat with some volunteers. A couple of the white/yellow group had rolled out and when lunch was over, I took off.

Camp Kanesatake is a Christian church camp located in Spruce Creek, Pa.

SEGMENT FOUR – Camp Kanesatake to the famous Cookie Stop (14 miles)

I cleaned up my trash and looked around. It did not appear anyone was leaving that I could join so I took off. My plan was to soft pedal until the group caught me then join them. Here is where two competing aspects of my brain kicked in.

Logical Brain: Soft pedal and they will catch you and you can ride with them

Macho Brain: Don’t let them catch you. You are better than them.

Logical Brain: Let them catch you – you can save 30% of your energy by sitting in the group instead of riding alone

Macho Brain: Don’t you dare let them catch you. Hammer it!

Macho Brain won. Sigh. It’s a struggle I often have.

It was 15 miles and I did not want to get caught. In fact, I ended up catching two riders who had left about five minutes before me. And then was able to enjoy the famous cookie stop. (Truth: I had one chocolate chip cookie given to me by a young girl whose mother had baked it.)

The traditional cookie stop, the parishioners are all in at Halfmoom Christian Fellowship Church, Port Matilda, Pa.

SEGMENT FIVE – Cookie stop to State College (13 miles)

I stopped to talk to the volunteers at the entrance/exit and the four young kids. I left the message with the kids to always wear a helmet when they ride. In the meantime, a group of five or six guys took off. They were one minute up the road.

I thought about going full in to try to catch their group but decided to ride my own pace. Their group dropped two (blue riders) and I had them in sight. For a couple of miles I could see I was 35 seconds behind. And then it came down quickly. Twenty seconds. Ten seconds. And a catch. I joined them, stayed with them for about a minute, then went to the front to work. I dropped them. Rode solo to the Penn Stater.

I beat the rain although it doesn’t look I will be so fortunate tomorrow. This was my longest ride of the year, derailed first by knee replacement and then by a memory-loss crash and concussion. So I am happy. Very happy.

July 19, 2018August 21, 2020

Tour de Indiana

INDIANA, PENNSYLVANIA

No, not Hooisers. But Indiana, Pa. Home of Jimmy Stewart of 1940s-50s movie fame.

I had gone online, found four covered bridges, and then using RideWithGPS.com, mapped a 35 mile ride which would take me to the four bridges. Today was a great day to ride.

I parked at the Indiana Mall and then took Rte 286 (Oakland Avenue to Philadelphia Avenue) out through town. Indiana has a beautiful downtown, even prettier in the early morning sunlight.

The first 8.5 miles, towards Clymer, was on Pa. Rte. 286. It was sketchy at times. Not a major highway but it is the major road between Indiana and Clymer. Despite a 4-foot law, some cars came much closer when passing, the closest of which was a Pennsylvania State Policeman. Seriously.

When I turned on Rayne Church Road I was glad to be on a country road and stay on country roads the rest of the ride. I first came to the Kintersburg Bridge which surprised me. I was enjoying the day and temporarily, had forgotten this was a covered bridge ride.

I passed the most beautiful farmhouse (but did not take a picture) next to a pretty barn. I hesitated turning onto U.S. Rte 119 but was on it for less than .25 mile and saw no cars on it for the 1:00 or so I was there.

Crossing the Buffalo and Pittsburgh Railroad

What I didn’t know: Rte 119 is also marked as Pittsburgh-Buffalo Road. I turned onto Chambersville Road and came upon three at grade crossings with a railroad. None had any signals, just a “Railroad” sign.

I didn’t see the railroad but I am 99% sure the single track belonged to the Pittsburgh and Buffalo Railroad. This would be the line from Punxsutawney to Homer City, a line which goes past my uncle, Don Sherry’s house in Juneau.

I didn’t know where I was going (which was part of the fun of this type of ride). I was following my Garmin cues when it told me to turn left (Black Road). I turned and after 75 yards it turned to gravel. I stopped. I thought I could check where I was on Maps but was in a no service area. I decided to push on.

It was rough riding. It wasn’t impossibly hard but I was worried for the bike and wheels. At the top of the first climb I had a great view and saw the road continued as gravel. I walked. I did not want to be on the bike on a steep descent as I was afraid I might slide out.

Although it felt like four miles, it was two miles. The road appeared to be an old “red dog” road (mine waste). These were supposed to be removed years ago and it appeared to my eyes that this was not fully removed.

Trusal Covered Bridge. I rode in the field instead of the gravel.

I came upon the second bridge, the Harmon’s Bridge. Shortly after seeing this bridge I jumped on Five Points Road. If I had stayed on Davis Road instead of turning onto the gravel, I would have come to Five Points Road. In fact, it was probably the same distance. But when I mapped it out I chose the route because I wanted to ride over the bridge and not divert from my route (Five Points Road). If I did this again, it’s an easy change to the route.

Only half mile away was the Trusal Bridge. It was also off Five Points Road. The road to the bridge was gravel. I chose to ride in a field next to the road rather than on the road.

I rode to Creekside and over to the Thomas Bridge. As I left Thomas Bridge, Garmin had me going up Jamison Road. It turned to gravel. I turned around. I rerouted over to Fleming Road. I got on N. Ben Franklin Road and had my biggest climb of the day.

Partway up I saw what I thought was a sleeve of drill bits. I stopped, picked them up, and saw they weren’t drill bits. Later I posted a photo of them on Facebook and offered them to anyone who wanted them. Guesses were calligraphy tips, leather punches (and there are Amish in the area), and tattoo needle guides. The winner was tattoo needle guides. I discarded them.

If I ride this again, I would look for an alternative to 286 towards Clymer, stay on Davis Road to Five Points Road, and erase Jamison Road which I did as I rode. And I may ride it clockwise to get the Ben Franklin road climb out of the way at the beginning.

Covered Bridge Facts

Harmon Bridge, which was built in 1910 at a cost of $525, is 45 feet long and was named after Civil War veteran J.S. Harmon
Kintersburg Bridge was built in 1877 and named for Isaac Kinter, a local shopkeeper. J.S. Fleming erected the bridge over Crooked Creek at a cost of $893.
The Thomas Bridge was built in 1879 at a cost of $545 and completely reconstructed in 1998 at a cost of slightly more than $1 million dollars.
Trusal Bridge, built in 1870 (also known as Dice’s Bridge). At 41 feet long, the Trusal Bridge is the shortest of Indiana County’s covered bridges. It was named after Robert Trusal, a nearby property owner. The preceding facts and more information can be found at the Indiana County tourism website.

June 2, 2018July 12, 2023

Atlas Ride 2018

AUSTIN, TEXAS

I pulled into the parking lot at Hanna Springs Elementary school and got my bike from the truck of the Kia Optima I had rented. Not an ideal rental car but I could lower the two back seats and the trunk was roomy enough that the bike would fit, minus the front wheel.

Although I was at least 20 minutes early, I was in a hurry to find my “teammates” for the day. I did not anticipate meeting Vanessa and her friends because they were departing at 9:00 a.m. and not rolling out at 8:00 a.m., the start of the 50-mile ride. I got on my bike and went 20 yards before returning to the car. Lights.

I had brought a rear tail light for the bike and flashing helmet lights. I have found myself much more antsy on the bike since my crash, even though I was near no one. No riders. No walkers. And especially no cars but I found in the last week as I returned to riding that cars especially made me antsy. Those lights would do no good locked in the car for the day.

In honor of my cousin, Kay Walborn, fighting a good fight

Properly lit up, I rode down Hackberry Street and was directed to the Atlas start – I followed others via sidewalks or just cutting through the park’s grass. I wanted to get a look at the Mile of Silence, a mile (or quarter-mile) of signs dedicated to people fighting or have fought cancer. I found the sign dedicated to my cousin, Kay Walborn. To see the others would have to wait until we rode this stretch at the end of the ride.

Roll out at the start of the 50-mile group

I had two ride options today: a 25 mile loop or a 50 mile loop. I did not come to Texas to ride 25 miles. So I was committed to 50. While normally I can ride 50 with almost no effort, since knee surgery in February, I only had ridden 50 miles once. That was three weeks ago from Reston to Purcellville when I discovered Scott and Nichole had sold their bike shop and moved to France.

But after the crash and concussion, I was off the bike completely for 10 days and then allowed to slowly introduce “light activity.” I rode 10-12 miles three of four times although I rode 26 miles once. The day I rode 26 miles I cut it short and thought then about changing all my reservations from this weekend to the Livestrong Challenge in October instead. But I didn’t.

I looked for Mary. She is the president of the Rice University Cycling and Triathlon team and a friend of mine who I met five years ago. I saw the Rice jerseys lining up at the start and asked Cat, one of their riders, if she could hold my bike long enough so I could hug Mary. She obliged.

Mary introduced me to Cat and Caitlyn. And Brian, who was a 2009 alum of the T4K. She said we could ride together, they would probably go 16-18 mph and I thought I could handle that.

We rolled out and quickly Brian was off the front and Mary and I had to bridge up to his group. His fiancé (?) was with him as well as another rider. If they introduced me then I suck at remembering (which is true). This is especially true since my brain injury. My short-term memory, especially involving names, is lacking.

I don’t know how it happened but we organized and Brian and I were on the front, setting a nice easy (so I thought) pace, although a couple of times we were asked to slow down.

The thought that “an easy 50 miles” would be my first effort since the concussion and that I should save myself did not exist. In reality, I was burning matches that I would need at the end, without even realizing it because the pace we were going is one I maintain when I am in “bike shape.” With Brian and me at the front, we averaged 17 mph over 13 miles, our fastest segment of the day.

At one point I even told Brian that I probably shouldn’t be up here setting the pace the entire time and should drop back and sit in. But I didn’t.

There were four rest stops on this course which made for an easy day. My group stopped at all four. Because I anticipated getting a complimentary bottle from Mellow Johnny’s with my rental, I had brought just one water bottle. A sponsor, Bush’s Chicken, had some bottles, not necessarily for the bike, but I was offered one and put it on my bike.

Rest stop 3 – We were about to start the oil section

The roads were mostly “heavy” roads. Those are of the chip and seal variety and don’t present a smooth riding surface. They didn’t affect my ride or comfort, but I was working harder than if I was on smooth pavement.

At Mile 27 we had a rest stop just as we turned onto a newly surfaced road. By new I mean yesterday. Literally yesterday. Fresh oil. I was very glad I was not on my bike but was on a rental. Our group stayed together but after five miles or so I noticed that I had gapped Mary. I slowed a little for her to stay with me and we joined a teammate. We had 11 miles on that tar and chip mess.

At our last stop, Mile 38, the star seemed to be this 9-week old German Shepherd puppy named Murphy. Everyone wanted to pet him and he only wanted relief on the ground under a table in the shade. I was hoping his owner was getting him enough water as I was finding my own.

This is a supported ride and at every stop they had bags of ice. One did not have to settle for lukewarm water in your bottle but always could add ice and make it ice old. I refilled my bottle (the second one stayed on my bike with 100 degree water in it) and went to tell Mary that I couldn’t wait for everyone to finish eating fruit and filling bottles before rolling out.

I could feel my body shutting down and I didn’t want to spend more time at this stop than necessary. But Mary’s group didn’t linger and we were soon on the road. We were off that new chip and seal road but it looked like we had a half-mile climb right out of our stop.

Brian and his couple of riders went. Mary hadn’t yet clipped in so I went at a slower pace determined to let her catch me. I looked back and could see her but also saw a couple gaining on me. First the man passed me then his wife passed me. And I felt a twinge.

Strangely enough, whether the road got steeper or leveled out a bit I couldn’t tell you, but I found myself passing this couple. We were all riding at our own pace.

About a quarter-mile later, Mary caught up, along with a friend. We had talked for most of 38 miles but said nothing the last 10. It was a sign to me that I was beat.

There was a strong headwind. A strong, hot headwind. It seemed every time I looked up the road was going up. There were no major climbs just a gradual slog into the winds.

The twinge was a warning. My body was shutting down. I carried a bottle of Hot Shot designed to eliminate cramping. I had never needed it before but was able to unseal it and drink about 1/3 of it at once. And just like that, the cramping went away.

We continued on, without talking. As the road turned up again Mary pulled away. Earlier in the day I would have gone with her but I knew better than to try. I was light-headed. And I was watching my heart rate monitor. It seemed to record a higher than believable rate. I was pushing 170 bpm yet I wasn’t breathing heavy.

I also thought, in no particular order, that maybe my blood pressure was way off. I couldn’t feel my heartbeat at 170 bpm but maybe I was ready to have a stroke. I saw one SAG vehicle go by and lamented they had room for three bikes on the back and they had three bikes on the back. I thought maybe I would pull over and call for a SAG but sitting on the side of a shade-less road seemed more punishment than moving forward.

With Mary up the road, I was keeping pace with her friend, neither of us saying a word. I changed my Garmin screen and could see I had 5.2 miles left. Then 4.5. Then 4.0. Mary’s friend seemed to be struggling and it was all I could do to tell her “3 miles to go – we got this.” I counted down 2.5 then 2. Then we passed a couple of riders coming in from their 25-mile ride which unconsciously may have given us a boost. And we saw Mary.

With one mile to go, we caught Mary and soon turned down the street to make the Mile of Silence. I asked Mary to stop with me so I could get a picture of Kay’s sign. And then I sought out signs for Jake and Alex (Jacob Grecco and Alex Shepherd).

In memory of Jake Grecco. I repositioned his sign to a better location.

Mary and I rode the last half mile together, with Mary, not me, wanting to stop and take some pictures of the old downtown. Another sign I wasn’t thinking straight.

We parked our bikes and I called Vanessa. She had texted and wondered if I was there and I wasn’t going to mess around with texts. She asked if I was OK and told me I didn’t sound good. Her group was in the food line and allowed me to cut in. I was so cramped and tired that social norms (not cutting line) were not going to be obeyed.

I met her friend, Kevin Hellgren, and then a big surprise to me, Kristina Schommer. She was my bicycle buddy (pen pal) four years ago with the Ozarks team in 2014. It was great to finally meet her.

We found someone who found this year’s bicycle buddy, Grant McFarlin. After meeting we talked about the day’s ride. He had done the 25-mile route. I am a big supporter of the T4K program including their safety and training. They have a required metric that all riders must meet – a 10-hour century ride. Grant told me one of the riders had crashed at Mile 90 in April and never finished his requirement.

So on Thursday, the day before they were to leave, Grant and two other riders, joined this rider so he would finish his test and ride the T4K. Grant had ridden a century on Thursday, 70 mile roll out yesterday, so he was to be excused for a 25-mile ride today.

Grant couldn’t stay and talk much as they were getting ready to present. After this year’s T4K teams presented, music started playing and everyone sort of scattered. I was told that Grant walked “that way.” And pointed to the horizon.

Although I had cramped even while sitting and eating under the big tent, I needed 1.5 miles to make 50. I would have quit at 49.99 two hours earlier but thought I would take “the long way” back to my car. As I arrived, there were just two cars left in the lot. Mine and a pickup truck next to mine. And Grant was talking to the driver.

Grant and his girlfriend, Lizzie Hill, had walked over to the school and I was able to see him before they would depart. That warmed my heart I could say goodbye.

They walked back to the event and I drove off into the horizon. Or sunset. Or to the nearest In-N-Out Burger for dinner. Yea, I think that was it.

EDIT/EPILOGUE – I still had the effects of my concussion and should not have traveled to Texas for this ride. My body was not in shape (see photos) and certainly could not handle a 50-mile ride in Texas heat. But the next night, in Houston, was the last night that I had headaches from the crash so I was healing. Slowly.

June 1, 2018August 21, 2020

Southern Walnut Creek Trail

AUSTIN, TEXAS

I began the day at Bicycle World in Austin. Here is one thing to know when visiting Austin: There is no such thing as a free lunch and there is no such thing as free parking. Well, maybe that’s two things.

I found a parking lot next to Bicycle World with very imposing signs – “We Tow. We have cameras.” I didn’t park there. Not even sure what kind of lot it was. It may have been for a hamburger place. But it wasn’t friendly.

Instead Schlotsky’s Deli is right across the street. Imposing signs there too – “Parking for Customers Only.” But I went in, enjoyed a sandwich and a drink, then ran across the street to Bicycle World where I checked in for tomorrow’s Atlas Ride. I noticed they had a sign for bicycle rentals and thought maybe I should have gone there. Or maybe next time.

“The Look” – Notice the Juan Pelota Cafe cap. Pelota is Spanish for ball; Juan sounds like One

After checking in and going back to the Schlotsky’s parking lot, where my rental car had not been towed or booted, I drove over to Mellow Johnny’s. There is a parking lot for Mellow Johnny’s. But a couple years ago, the city noticed somehow MJ’s customers were allowed to shop without paying the city. So they put an end to that. This is Austin.

Imposing sign – You Must Pay to Shop here. I went to the pay kiosk, registered my car. Parking was $2 for one hour; $9 for two hours. I wonder what what happen if after 59 minutes, or 60, one would go back and pay for a second hour of parking. This city needs some grown ups in charge.

I went in and re-introduced myself to Peter Finklea, the rentals manager at MJ’s. This was the third or fourth time I rented here. Peter is a very nice guy and I have really enjoyed renting bikes here in the past. This one was a last-minute decision.

I had budgeted $50 /day for a quality bike rental. I thought I would ride some on Thursday when I arrived, plus Friday, and of course, the Atlas ride on Saturday and something, somewhere on Sunday.

Never one to get anxious, I think I was being affected by the concussion I sustained in Ohio. The thought of tearing down my bike, delicately packing it, then flying with it was weighing on my mind. And there is the cost component. The “full fare” airlines charge $150 to check your bike as luggage. In a bike crate or bag. Each way. So flying my preferred airline, American Airlines, was basically out of the question from the start. I booked on Southwest Airlines because their bike fee was friendlier – $75 each way.

Without considering the hassle of tearing down the bike, rebuilding it at the destination, and worrying about whether it will make it undamaged, just the cost factor meant a 3-day rental was the same price as taking my bike. Then will I want my bike? For 100 miles, the answer is probably yes. For extreme climbing, the answer is definitely yes. But for 50 miles without a significant climb, it really didn’t matter. So I went online and found my size and reserved at Mellow Johnny’s.

Peter knows what he’s doing. He did a quick but thorough bike fit – as much as one can do for someone about to go out the door on a rental bike. He adjusted the seat, twice. The stem and handlebars were OK. He affixed the computer mount that I just bought and I asked him for a recommendation of a ride.

Unlike past years where it was OK to leave the car in the MJ’s parking lot and go ride, I had to be gone by 12:53 p.m. Peter offered up “hilly and long” to the west and “shorter and flatter” to the east. With the temperature pushing 100 degrees, I opted for shorter, and flatter.

Although Peter pulled out a map, he talked about the Southern Walnut Creek Trail and I realized that I had ridden it before. And it would be perfect. After figuring out it didn’t start at “Go-Valley” Park (but Govalle), I drove out to the park.

The Southern Walnut Creek Path is relatively new. It is a 10’ (3 meters) wide concrete trail. And I saw virtually no one other than a family walking their dogs at the beginning. Peter had said the trail was 10 miles and I had remembered a plateau after eight miles or so and then a descent across a road. I had decided that I would ride to the plateau but not the descent. I was afraid of going too far and I didn’t want to ride the descent knowing I’d have to turn around and come back up.

Strange it seems. I love to ride and I can go 100 miles or more with no problems. But with knee surgery and a long recovery in February, I was just starting to get outside on the bike. The trip to Ohio was to get in some long miles but that didn’t work out. Actually, I got some of the miles I wanted but was planning another long ride on my day home. That ended with the concussion.

Now I worried about getting light headed. Running out of water. Or simply going too far for too long in this heat. So twenty miles would be enough.

At the plateau it was windy. Here the trail left nature behind and passed a trailer park that seemed to go on for a mile. My memory from a couple years ago worked fine. I came to the road where the trail turned down and decided to go back. I knew I would get 20 miles just out and back and decided to explore some of the spurs.

Or I explored one. At least. There was a half mile trail to the Austin Tennis Center. I arrived and saw all these empty courts. No one was playing. It was 2:00 p.m. on a Friday and it was 100 degrees. Couldn’t blame them. (Or maybe it wasn’t open weekdays until the evening.)

Southern Walnut Creek Trail – Hot and WIndy

Getting back to the car, I was hot and thirsty. I had used my one water bottle and did the only thing I knew to do over the next three days or so. Find an In-N-Out Burger. Although this would be simply for replenishment (milkshake) as I was headed farther north for the night.

May 16, 2018January 29, 2025

Out Cold

PIQUA, OHIO

I was unconscious for some while. I was groggy and slowly waking up. I remember seeing a river and hearing a voice. Where was I?

After at least six surgeries in the last 15 years plus another 2-3 “procedures,” I was used to waking up from anesthesia. There’s a bit of grogginess followed by a desire to go back to sleep. Each time I knew I was in a hospital and would be going home in one or two hours. I felt like I was coming out of anesthesia. But this was different.

The left side of my body hurt. My leg was bleeding from road rash. My left shoulder hurt. I thought I may have broken my collarbone. But mostly, I wanted to go back to sleep.

I heard a voice. I don’t remember a face with the voice and the only words I recall were “I’ve called 911 and I’ve answered that question seven times now.“*

I had no clue where I was or what I was doing. This was much different than 15 minutes earlier.

I never saw the voice or the owner of the voice although I had been giving him answers while he called 911. I don’t remember any of that. Or anything. Most of all I don’t remember what I was doing and I didn’t know where I was.

Click to listen to the 911 call that was made

Somehow an ambulance made its way onto the trail and paramedics were talking with me. I don’t remember any of the conversations with one exception. I asked where I was. The response was “Ohio.”

I certainly had no idea I was in Ohio. I don’t remember going to Ohio. I had a car but don’t remember driving it there. And I didn’t know where it was parked. While I usually wear my ROAD ID 24/7 with my contact information, on May 16, 2018, it was safely stashed away in the glove compartment of my car – wherever that was.

A park ranger arrived in a pickup truck. At first, I didn’t know where I was so I certainly didn’t know how I got there and where I was parked. Or if I was parked. But my memory slowly was coming back and they asked me if I was parked at the trailhead about a mile south of here. They had seen my car and I told them I was parked there. The paramedics wanted me to jump in the ambulance but I just wanted to go back to my car. I did not try to ride my bike. They put it in the back of the truck and the only act of clarity I had was to turn off the Garmin so it did not record more miles than I actually earned. I rode with the ranger.

Some of my memory was coming back to me. We traveled almost one mile when we came to a trailhead which is where I had parked. The ranger asked me if that was my car and I told him it was. I remembered my car. That was a start.

The paramedics stopped and checked me one more time. I was parked right across from the highway from a hospital. They encouraged me to go to the E.R. to get cleaned up. I was pretty bloodied and my shoulder hurt, reminiscent of my broken collarbone five years ago.

The parking lot at the hospital was crowded. I saw one empty space up front for handicapped parking. I took it. I had a handicapped parking placard still in effect from my knee replacement surgery and on this day I needed to be close. I was still in a fog and forgot to hang the placard but wasn’t ticketed.

I was wearing cycling shoes. My cycling jersey was ripped. A nurse asked me if I had been biking. And that was sort of the highlight of the exam. They cleaned my leg wounds (mostly) and X-rayed my shoulder (negative). The nurse told me she was going to take my blood pressure again. I said to her “Again, but you haven’t taken it yet.” She responded, “Don’t you remember? I took it when you first came in here about 30 minutes ago.”

Despite this exchange, this was not enough to suggest they should examine me for a head injury. And while it’s possible they did a full exam on my head which I don’t remember, there was nothing on the discharge paperwork stating they had checked me for a concussion.

I would not have been happy but they should not have discharged me and let me drive. But I left and went back to the trail. I was going to ride some more (this was the primary indication I had a head injury). I went to get on the bike and saw the rear derailleur was messed up. The hanger was broken. I could not ride.

Slowly my memory started coming back. It was a cool and cloudy day. It looked like it might rain at any moment. And I wanted to ride near Piqua.

The Sherry family in front of the Lockington church/parsonage in 1966. L-R: Brenda, Bernie, Naomi (holding Betsy), Brad, Rev. Harry, Barry

This was to be a pre-ride before the Ride of Silence in Dayton at 7:00 p.m. I had parked in Troy at a trailhead of the Great Miami River Trail and ridden north to Piqua. There was some mud on the trail and I passed a worker sweeping and I thought he was spreading the mud around.

Worker spreading the mud around on the trail

I chose to ride this morning’s route as my own journey back in time. We had moved to the small village of Lockington in 1964 when I was almost nine years old and lived here for three years. The small parsonage is now an extension of the church.

From Piqua, I rode to the Kirkwood bridge which was a covered bridge when I lived here. As a kid, I could ride my bike all over and this one was tough because in an otherwise pancake-flat topography, there was an actual hill to ride down from Lockington and then back up. The bridge burned in 1989 and was replaced with just a bridge. Looks like a roadway.

As a kid, I rode my bike to deliver newspapers (Piqua Daily Call – I made 2 cents per paper), to the Piqua Country Club to golf, and to Piqua to Echo Hills Golf Club where a youth season pass cost $5 for the year. No helmets and I don’t remember ever carrying water.

The former parsonage in Lockington, Ohio

We would use our bikes to get litter off the roads. A soda (or pop) bottle was made of glass and carried a 2-cent deposit. These were like gold to kids. Find five, and it wasn’t that hard, and we would take them to Forsythe’s Frozen Locker in Lockington. We could trade those five in for a cold Mountain Dew (10 cents) that we would drink there. A bonus would be to buy a frozen Zero candy bar for another five cents. While history will tell us the 1960s were a turbulent time for a kid growing up, actually they were pretty good.

Forsythe’s Frozen Locker, Lockington, Ohio (closed)

It was a nice trip back in time. I found myself a bit fearful on some of the roads with the cars going by too close for comfort. And I think back to 50 years earlier when I was a kid. I rode on these roads and either those drivers were much more careful than today’s drivers, or probably, as a kid, I just did not perceive the risk of riding my bike on a highway – as a 12-year-old.

Piqua is such a beautiful city and I rode through it twice. The trail passes the nuclear reactor which made Piqua the first nuclear-powered city in the U.S.

I made my way south on the trail and remember crossing the Great Miami River where four people were walking and taking up the entire width of the trail. I rang a bell and politely announced “passing” and thought it was a bit strange that three moved to the right and one moved to the left. I went right through them. And my memory ended right there.

What happened next will remain a mystery. I have no memory of being on the trail south of the bridge. I would wake up and see the river and hear a voice.

I would later compare the time stamp on my Garmin file with the timestamp of the 911 call and determine I was unconscious on the trail for six minutes. A retired Piqua cop, Paul Sullenberger, happened to be riding by and saw me. It was his voice I remember hearing.

I don’t recall how the ambulance(s) got there. Nor do I remember talking to the paramedics. But I did. I don’t remember the 911 call yet I can be heard talking on it. I must have undergone some type of exam – and passed. I was told later that I knew the date and my name. I don’t remember having any conversation.

After 90 minutes the E.R I was discharged. I was still in a fog. A major fog. I just hoped to make it to Springfield, Ohio, where I had pre-paid for a room. I did. I was still sleepy but knew with a head injury that sleep wasn’t good. I stayed up as late as I could and went to sleep fearful that I might not wake up.

___
*The question was “Did you see me go down?” (He hadn’t)

Facebook Post – 11 days later. I stayed off electronics up to that point because of headaches
Notice the reference to the neuralyzer and the Alien emoji.

As I worked to reconstruct what could have happened there was one thing that puzzled everyone. My injuries were on the left side of my body (photo). I thought I broke my collarbone (again) as my left shoulder really hurt. There were no injuries on my hands which are usually the first thing injured in a crash since the body instinctively puts the hands out when crashing. Was I unconscious before I crashed?

My bike was broken. There were scratches on the side of the bike and the rear derailleur hanger was broken. The derailleur is on the right side of the bike, of course, and so were scratches to the bike. So I fell heavily on my left side but the bike was damaged on the right side. That made no sense then and it makes no sense now.

My only answer: Alien abduction and anal probe. And when they were finished with me they staged the accident incorrectly. There is a missing time gap in my bike’s computer for the day. Plus my butt was sore, probably from the anal probe. Also from his Facebook comment, Paul believes he was directed by something to come find me.

EPILOGUE – Maybe because I had some photos on my phone, some of my memory of that day returned. But nothing after crossing the Great Miami River up to the moment of the crash and much of the next couple of hours after the crash is gone also.

No one can explain what caused the crash or the biggest mystery of why my injuries were on my left side but my bike was damaged on the right side.

May 15, 2018August 5, 2021

Loveland and Lebanon

May 15, 2018

LOVELAND, OHIO

I came to Ohio to ride the Little Miami Scenic Trail and to catch up with my friend, Bob. I parked in the beautiful little town of Loveland where we would meet and ride north.

Even before 9:00 a.m., it was a balmy 79º as we rolled out of Loveland. Our destination was initially was Morrow where we would find lunch.

We had ridden less than eight miles when we came to a spur. I saw the trail with the sign towards Lebanon. Although we stayed on the LMST for another 400 meters, I raised the possibility of following that trail.

We turned around and followed this trail for one mile before the trail ended and became signed bike path. At first, we followed Ohio Rte. 15 north before deciding that this wasn’t going to be the most bike-friendly route to Lebanon. We turned around and followed the bike route signs we initially missed (or ignored).

Surprisingly, we had a hill to climb. Yes, a hill. Although Ohio is generally flat, and the LMST is definitely flat, the closer you are to Cincinnati the hillier the terrain becomes.

We got over the hill but as we were descending to Lebanon, Bob had a flat. And no repair kit. I had a spare tube and we were able to repair his tire and keep going.

Lebanon is a pretty town. IMHO, almost all these Ohio towns are beautiful. The older the houses the wider the streets and the prettier the town.

We found a nice place to eat at the Cherry Street Cafe. With some outdoor seating it was the perfect place to eat, nestled in near the train museum.

We were on the other side of the hill from the LMST and with full stomachs had to ride back up over the hill from where we came. Of course, we got to enjoy a nice descent back to the spur trail then over to the Little Miami Scenic Trail.

Going back we remarked how many squirrels we saw. Shortly after that observation a squirrel darted out and just missed my wheels. Unfortunately, there was a thump as Bob hit it. Bob was lucky he did not go down. The squirrel was not so lucky.

Crossing the Little Miami River on the spur trail to Lebanon

The trail is lovely. Loveland is beautiful. I would love to come back someday and ride the entire trail.

May 4, 2018September 1, 2020

The Real Test

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

Two days ago was the first test of my rebuilt knee over Henrietta Mountain Road. Although that was a steep climb, it lasted just two miles. Today would be the real test.

I parked at Logan Valley Mall and headed up 58th Street to begin my climb up to and past Horseshoe Curve. It was windy with a westerly wind coming over the mountain and thus would be in my face as I climbed. It was okay though as it was great to be outside on a bike.

I began the climb with a diversion to Leopald Park to use their outhouse. Don’t want to climb with a full bladder.

Once back on the road I could see one train above me, slowly working its way down the mountain. As Reservoir One, I could see the acid mine runoff water in its own channel keeping it out of the good water. Someday I will have to see where that acid water goes.

I stopped briefly at the Horseshoe Curve site, just long enough for a photo op. Then it was through the 200 foot tunnel where the climb up Glenwhite Road really starts. It was cloudy and there was some moisture on the road from an earlier rain but I avoided any rain that was in the area.

The channel diverts acid mine drainage past the reservoirs

As I climbed it dawned on me that if I were to describe this road to a stranger I would tell them when they look ahead and see where the road kicks up and they think that’s the hard part – it isn’t. Oh no, it isn’t. And thus I decided to do something different today. Not look up.

I saw where the road turned and started to kick up. I looked down. I stared at my front tire and bike computer, never looking up at the road ahead. Of course, I have almost memorized this road having ridden it 3-4 times each year since 2009.

This road holds a special place in my heart. Not only does it like to kick my butt, but when I was diagnosed with cancer nine years ago, this was my happy place. This was the one place I could ride and not think about the dreaded disease.

I began the climb. Head down. My legs knew I was climbing. My heart knew I was climbing. And my GPS knew. I could see the grade go from 12% to 14% to 18% to 20%. Oh yea, I was on the wall.

Every time I climb this I state that I forget how hard it was. Today was not the case. It was hard. Damn hard. But not quitting time hard. And I think it really helped not looking up at all.

When the grade came back down to 12% I decided I could look. I knew I was near the summit and I had about 100 meters to go. Although even at the top it’s another mile to the real summit.

I rode the 2.5 miles across the ridge through Tunnel Hill and then descended Sugar Run Road. It was windy, although it felt like a bit of a crosswind. I hit 46 mph, without trying, on the descent. Made it back to the car at the Mall – it was locked this time.

It was a great day on the bike. Any day one can get up Horseshoe Curve is a good day. My knee gave me no problems other than some fluid/swelling. But no pain. This was the real test and my knee passed.

May 2, 2018August 29, 2020

A Test of the Knee

SAXTON, PENNSYLVANIA

It’s hard to believe that it has been 12 weeks since my knee replacement surgery. I don’t think my knee is where it should be but I will withhold judgment until my next doctor’s appointment.

Since surgery, I have ridden less than 200 miles in total. In many years I am over 1,000 miles and sometimes over 2,000 by this time. But I am not completely “without legs.” I have been riding a stationary bike almost every day, often for up to an hour at a time.

This road. Henrietta Mountain Road. I found it only because some Altoona locals told me about it a few years ago. And I rode it last year. It compared to some of the toughest two-mile climbs I have done.

Last year I struggled. I even thought about stopping on the climb. Or turning back. But this year I seemed at peace with it.

I drove to Saxton and looked for a place to park. I found one at the intersection of Pa. 26 and 913. The car was off the road but otherwise out in the open. I pedaled to the foot of the climb. Just after starting and no more than one-half mile in, I wondered if I had locked the car. I had left my car keys (I had the clicker), wallet, and laptop computer all in the car and available to anyone if it wasn’t locked.

Although I didn’t remember locking it, of course, I always lock it. I decided it would be foolish to go back to the car. There are somethings that you do automatically and locking your car is one of them, right?

The lower section of the climb starts at 6-8% then gets tougher. Soon the grades were 12% and some reached the 20s. I stayed seated, mostly, but occasionally got out of the saddle. It was hot (87°). For the two-mile climb, only six cars had to pass me. The road is lightly traveled.

At times, I could feel the knee clicking. I could hear the rhythm of the knee. But it didn’t hurt so I pushed on.

The road is steep. Period. I didn’t “paperboy” but I crept. I didn’t stop. I just kept the momentum going.

I did not review the route. The first/last time I turned around at the top. Today I went over the top. I expected to level off and come into Rt. 164 at the top of the mountain, and have a great ride back down. Oh boy, was I wrong.

It was a nice descent into a valley although I did not lose all the elevation I had climbed. It just felt like it. I followed Henrietta Mountain Road to the end, catching two Amish girls with a horse and wagon.

I came to Rt. 164. Instead of being at the top of the mountain, I was at the bottom. And here the road is high-speed, with a 55 mph speed limit. There were guard rails on both sides and no shoulder. And uphill of course because I had to cross back over the mountain. I regretted this route.

But I survived, with a note not to ride this way again. On the descent, I pedaled until I ran out of gears. I hit 49 mph. I so wanted 50 but with a 50 tooth front cassette, and a swollen knee, I just couldn’t find it today.

Back to the car but fully satisfied. I opened the car and found it was unlocked. Sick feeling. But checked. Keys there. Wallet there. Laptop computer there. The car was undisturbed. Whew! Dumb by me.

In the evening the legs felt sore. Like they had a workout. It’s been a long time since I was able to push myself on a climb like that. So glad I did. And looking at the map there may be another way back if I do this one again.