A Cancer Survivor's Journey to Find Peace on a Bike
Author: barrysherry
I love cycling. I hate cancer. I love to climb big mountains but I am more enthusiastic than talented (with apologies to Will). I've ridden in the Pyrenees, Alps, and Dolomites. I've climbed Mount Evans, Colo (twice) and raced in the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb (nine times).
Despite breaking my collarbone last month, I am currently on the second longest consecutive streak of daily rides with 42. I define a “ride” of at least 10 miles although I could make exceptions in special cases like the climb up Mount Washington which is 7.6 miles but is more intense than most 100 mile rides.
With rain forecast all day it looked like it was a good day for a rest. But after spending a morning in Johnstown at the library the rain broke and I decided to go to Altoona to ride Horseshoe Curve. On my way there I decided to try something different – the climb up to Blue Knob Ski Resort.
I parked at the park entrance then went down to Pavia which I would consider the start of the five mile climb. I got about three miles up and I knew I was caught. The skies turned black and within a few minutes I was soaked. The rain was coming very hard.
Not much to do except ride through it. I made it to the top and looked for a place for water or someone who had water. I found none. The climb was harder than I thought. Despite the consecutive days of riding, none had been intense or had been hill climbs because of my injury.
Still raining hard, I started down the road. Normally loving descents, I did not like this. Not one bit. Visibility was poor. Braking was difficult. And I was very scared about a crash that could shatter my still-healing collarbone.
But I made it safely to my car. I checked and recorded 10.1 miles. It would count. (Although I’d be OK counting less than 10 today given the conditions. This was a bike ride.)
This wasn’t a day for riding but a day of celebration honoring Team Seattle’s finish. They started 70 days earlier and traveled more than 4,000 miles. I had promised my friend, Chey Hillsgrove, that if he did this ride I would greet him at the end.
Bremerton, Wash.
I stayed in Bremerton and checked the ferry schedule while at breakfast. I could hurry to make the 7:20 a.m. ferry or take my time for the 8:45 a.m. I took my time. I was first in line for the ferry – I must have just missed the 7:20 boat – and the guy in the booth encouraged me to go for a bike ride. What a great idea. I saw Bremerton on a bike.
Bremerton, Wash.
I arrived in Seattle and looked for Pike Place Market. I parked the car and then went for a bike ride. The waterfront was crowded and wasn’t as bike-friendly as Portland but I also found a waterfront bike path, the Elliott Bay Trail, which was nice. I checked the time and decided to cut the ride short to arrive in plenty of time.
Chey and Shelby
My friends, Kimber and Dale Polley had brought milkshakes and pizza for the riders. And my friends, Amy and Randall Hopkins, and their family, also joined the celebration (I think they came to see me).
Two Batmans. Chey and Zach. Credit: Amy Hopkins
The team arrived to cheers from their families and friends. They were quite giddy. Or silly. Or goofy.* Chey and Shelby Perkins, the team leaders each spoke and then invited a representative from the organization to talk about what the organization does. The representative was speechless. It was embarrassing. Chey then motioned with his hands – “well, you could tell them about this ride.”
Team Seattle. The End.
I’m not sure what the organization had for the riders except that Kimber had been trying for weeks to organize pizza and milkshakes. She finally did that on her own without a blessing from the organization.
Barry and Chey
It was truly a very awkward closing ceremony but their friends and family got to see one last cheer. And that was cool. They drowned out the guy performing close to them with a chainsaw.
Last year’s “First Ride With Dad” was such a success that my sister, Betsy, and I decided to do it again. She rode the Great Allegheny Passage trail from Frostburg, Maryland and I parked in Rockwood and rode to Meyersdale where we told our father to meet us.
Betsy Sherry and Rev. Harry C. Sherry
I screwed it up last year thinking Frostburg was at a higher elevation than Frostburg. So we left Frostburg and rode much of our planned route uphill. I could not do that to Dad again.
Casselman River
I chose today’s route, this time fully aware of the elevation change between Meyersdale and Rockwood (trending downhill). And I wanted my dad to ride across the great Salisbury Trestle, a 2,000 foot span that crosses the Cassleman River and US Rte 219.
We were high up on the trestle. It is about 200 feet above the valley below. It was windy and I was afraid my dad might clip his handlebars on the side of the bridge. But we made it through safely.
Betsy and Dad taking a break
There are a couple of cuts in rock croppings but for sheer beauty the section between Meyersdale and Rockwood doesn’t quite compare to some of the other sections.
Just three weeks earlier my father had three stents placed in his heart and at age 84, was riding on the GAP. Not too shabby. He wanted to stop three or four times to rest and it was no problem.
Harry Sherry and Betsy Sherry
When we finished at Rockwood we met a dad with two kids. He and his daughter agreed to take our picture.
Sculpture and his daughter, Rockwood, Pa.
There are a couple of bike sculptures in Rockwood. Turns out this man was the creator. He offered to take our picture by them but we didn’t. In retrospect, since he was the creator, we should have, but he didn’t tell us until after we said we didn’t want to walk to them.
It has been two years since I was able to ride to a family reunion. Yesterday’s forecast looked promising but just as soon as I left my parents’ place in Friedens, just north of Somerset, Pa., it started to rain.
What used to be a barn is now and auto sales lot in Davidsville
Riding with a broken collarbone I was a bit skittish as I rode. I was very afraid of having a spill on the road and landing on the collarbone. So I took it easy.
I stopped once an hour to take on food. While it was a just a gel that I normally take while I’m riding, I didn’t want to ride with one hand on the bars and one hand on the gel. It also allowed me to stop and take a one-hour photo to document where I was.
On the climb coming out of Johnstown on Rte 271
I have ridden the route enough to know the turns and climbs and find it quite enjoyable. The climb out of Conemaugh/Johnstown was quite enjoyable. I found myself with a comfortable pace albeit in the rain.
Horse poop. Amish Country. Three Hour Photo on PA 271 near Duman Lake Park
When I reached Northern Cambria, I stopped at the home of my 4th cousins, Don and Nancy Lowmaster. I had never stopped here before but warned them that one day I may stop for water. This was the day. Unfortunately, I was pretty squishy. When I moved you could hear water squishing. Nancy was great about cleaning the one bottle and refilling it with ice and water.
West Branch Susquehanna River near Cherry Tree. The river is so small here one can literally throw a stone from bank to bank.
As I left the skies really opened up. I was in a real downpour for the next 10 minutes but then the faucet was turned off for the day. By the time I reached Cherry Tree the sun was out, and other than my wet clothes, you wouldn’t have known it had rained.
Normally no one has every heard of Gipsy. But four months ago in Homestead, Fla., Craig Babst was talking about Gipsy like it was his hometown.
This was my first long effort since breaking my collarbone and I felt good. I feel as though I am starting to regain my form.
It was supposed to be a simple ride along the Mount Vernon Trail and across the bridges that span the Potomac River into Washington, D.C. But this one hurt.
I parked at Gravelly Point. It had rained much of the morning although the rain had mostly stopped. Everything was wet and as I set off there were still raindrops falling although the sun would soon come out and make it steamy in a way that only D.C. can be after a summer rain.
Just a mile into the ride the rain subsided. After the Memorial Bridge, I slowed to a crawl as a gaggle of geese were blocking the trail. A runner from the other direction slowed to a walk and I remarked that the geese weren’t in any hurry. He agreed. These geese were not afraid of people. Or bikes.
Mount Vernon Trail
Once underway I came to the boardwalk section which is an elevated trail for about 200 yards. At the end one must zig-zag to stay on the trail. Technically, it was built as a 90 degree left which comes to a T. To the left is the trail to the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. To the right is the trail which continues into Rosslyn and one can cross the Key Bridge into Georgetown. But for riders on the Mt. Vernon Trail, this is really just a zig-zag nuisance.
But the wooden intersection is wide enough that one can simply cut the corners and keep most of their speed. I did.
These boards were wet and in this section they are painted too. Why in the world they would be painted I don’t know because that only makes them slicker. I cut through the apex of the corner ending up near the left side of the boardwalk trail as I came through the intersection.
As I exited the turn I saw a rider coming at me. And in a millisecond my wheels slipped out from under me as they continued through the curve. My bike was suspended mid-air horizontally as the wheels slammed up against the sideboards.
It happened quickly. My last crash I knew was coming a second before I hit and I instinctively braced my fall with my hand and broke my wrist. There was no warning this time.
One second I was upright and the next second I was hitting the deck hard. I landed on my shoulder and my head whipped against the deck. My thought was shock at how hard my head hit and then thinking I’m so glad I am wearing a helmet.
I heard the cyclist coming towards me crash and I felt bad that my crash apparently caused his also. Unlike me who was riding on road tires he had mountain bike tires and he still went down. It was like ice out there.
But he was also the first on the scene to check on me. I stayed down for maybe 20-30 seconds but he was quick to help me up which was not a good thing to do. Check to see if something is broken.
He reached for my hand and one wasn’t enough. With both hands he dragged me up. He asked if I was OK and I managed a manly response of “yes.” I briefly started to sit on the trail then thought that wasn’t too convincing that I was OK. So I thanked him and started pushing my bike to the end of the boardwalk trail.
Upon reaching the end, no more than 50 yards and probably a lot less, I thought again about sitting but decided to get on and ride. My body wanted to sit down. But I ignored the warning signs and remounted. Clearly, I wasn’t right and after crossing the Key Bridge into D.C. I decided to make my way back to the car and head to the E.R.
I was in pain. Lots of pain. But I rode an additional eight miles after the crash before reaching the car. Had I turned around immediately I would have been 2.8 miles back to start. But I wasn’t thinking straight.
Yep – Broken collarbone
At the E.R. I had little mobility in my arm and shoulder. Still, I was surprised when I was told that I broken my collarbone. I sort of expected that I would have heard a snap or crack which I didn’t. Of course, I heard my bike crashing up against the wall and me hitting hard. But the pain is enough to believe him because now that hurt.
UPDATE JULY 8, 2013: It does hurt. I have withdrawn from RAIN – Ride Across Indiana which is on July 13 and the Mt. Washington Auto Road Hillclimb on August 17.
This is one of my favorite climbs. A four mile warm up climb followed by a four mile steep climb including an 18% wall. Three lakes and a 200′ tunnel. A mountain stream cascading down as you ride up. Trains creaking as they slowly make their way up the mountain. What more can one ask for?
On my way back from Ride the Rockies I never gave it thought that riding at altitude would help. This wasn’t a test to see if riding at altitude would make me stronger. If it was, it failed.
I always underestimate how difficult the climb is. Today was no different. It is hard. But once to the top you have a couple miles of flat on top of the mountain followed by a nice seven mile descent on Sugar Run Road. For me it’s just a perfect place to ride.
Mount Davis, the tallest peak in Pennsylvania, is in Somerset County which is where my parents have lived for most of 33 years. I have never been there. I decided today that I would bike up it.
When I mentioned it to my parents my dad asked if I would ride from Confluence so I thought that might be the logical place to start. I didn’t know the roads.
I mapped out a route which would take me up Fort Hill Road to Green Road to High Point to Mt. Davis Road. When I reached Green Road I found first that it was descending and second that it was a dirt road – not just a dirt road but a dirt gravel mix and a bit of ungraded forest floor – much like Imgrund Mountain Road. I decided it was not worth the risk and took another route.
I found Pumpkin Center Road climbed so I kept going up – until the bottom just dropped away. That’s what makes climbing hard in this section of Pennsylvania because most of these roads do not have a continual climb but it seems for every two feet of gain you lose one. It also means on the descent there is some climbing too.
Pumpkin Center Road
I made my way to Mt. Davis Road and was unsure where to go. Finding no one to ask, I turned on the phone and found a map – I was headed in the right direction. Then it just a matter of making it to the top.
The ride back down was nice but Pumpkin Center Road had a 12% grade which kicked up to 20-22%. Ouch. Why do they do that on my descent?
Observation Tower at Mt Davis
I need to come back and try this from the Meyersdale direction. But cross Pennsylvania off my list of states I’ve cycled to the highest point (along with New Hampshire). Seriously – I don’t know where I’ve been although I’ve also ridden up Mt. Evans, Colorado which is the highest paved road leading me to think there are higher peaks in Colorado with dirt roads. Anyhow, it’s not a goal, just a fun thing to do.
I wanted a good Midwestern ride to break up the monotony of the long drive home from Colorado. Muncie was a perfect place.
The 4K for Cancer Team Portland was coming through. I knew they would be on the Cardinal Greenway rail trail. I headed towards Richmond, Indiana, thinking I’d ride 10 or maybe 20 miles before intersecting them.
I rode 43. I arrived in Richmond and was near the end of the trail. I began to worry that they had entered the trail farther up and had passed me without seeing. But finally, around the corner, here came six riders of the 4K. And they were almost like “hey, good to see you.” Almost no surprise.
But it’s all good. I turned around and we headed back to Muncie. I only saw eight of the 4K riders (six riding and two in the water van) because the other groups were hanging back with the father of a scholarship winner. And I had a seven hour drive ahead.
The rail trail was beautiful. Almost no riders were on it. It is paved with good asphalt and much of it is shaded.
“The Cardinal Greenway takes its name from the last passenger train to regularly travel the route (Chicago-Cincinnati-Washington): the Cardinal. The train service in turn derived its name from the state bird of all five states which it traversed.”
I’m guessing those states were Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, and Virginia — all of which do have the Cardinal as the state bird.
It was a beautiful morning to ride and easy to keep going and going and going. Just like in Kansas, the Garmin froze and once it came back online I lost the ride info I had just done. Oh well.
After a day in the car it was time to hit the ground and ride. And it wasn’t good.
I was excited to meet my 4th cousin, by marriage, Nick Schotamus. Oooh, he is younger than I thought.
The only chance I had was Nick only had his single speed bike. Didn’t matter.
My Garmin was like me – broke for the day. It recorded the first 10-15 miles then quit. When it finally came back the first segment was gone.
This was Kansas – near Kansas City. The route had some incredible rollers. The terrain reminded me of Pittsburgh although in a suburban and country environment. We would hit these steep climbs then have steep descents. It was anything but flat.
Karen Schotamus, Barry Sherry, Nick Schotamus
At the end my legs felt like Jell-O, something I never felt after a week of riding in the Rockies. But more importantly I got to meet my cousins. This was a special day even if I sucked.
Day 7 of Ride the Rockies brought mixed feelings. On one hand, I could ride here forever but on the other hand, it felt like it was time to stop. Scott Olson and I began our day by eating breakfast at McDonalds which opened at 5:00 a.m. (like they should have).
Navigating road furniture in Cañon City
Once out on the open road the two of us stayed together through Florence. As we were leaving, and I was missing some photo ops, we were joined by two, then three other riders including a medic. And we were flying.
Quick photo in Florence
We were on our bikes before 7:00 a.m. Even trending uphill, we might arrive at the finish by 10:00 a.m. Scott was all in to do that but I was not. He wanted to get there, tear down and pack his bike, grab his luggage and catch a noon bus to the Denver airport. I had no where to go except Hays, Kansas, after the closing ceremony.
Saw this bike today Maybe I should have bought one around 2000-2001
After doing a pull for our group, I moved aside and let them go. One rider saw me and drifted back briefly to pull me back in but I told them to go on. I was happy riding my own pace. Quite happy, in fact.
They picked up 50, then 100, then 200 meters on me. Then I quit watching. I shouldn’t have. Moments later I came upon a rider standing in the right lane of two motioning all cyclists into the travel lane and away from the shoulder. I saw a couple of riders down on the shoulder. I hoped it wasn’t Scott. But it was.
SAG wagons are bad. This one is worse.
I stopped as did a second medic (one of our riders in the group was a medic and immediately was administering first aid) and quickly did what I could which was to help direct oncoming cyclists away from the danger spot – an uneven open seam in the concrete highway.
The Colorado State Patrol, on motorcycles, quickly arrived and an ambulance was not far behind. I was able to help lift Scott to put the board underneath him and then onto the stretcher. We made plans for me to pick up his bike in Colorado Springs after it was SAGged there but that would not be necessary as RTR took care of that.
“SAG” driver
Scott and another rider went to the hospital and I was pretty shaken up. It was hard to ride after that.
Rooster. A Norwegian rooster perhaps.
In comparison to the crash that I narrowly avoided, the rest of the day was uneventful. I rode slowly just talking to spectators and riders. At the second rest stop one rider saw the Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb jersey and asked me if I actually did that race. We chatted. He told me that wanted to try it but thought it would be too hard.
Just married Don’t know where this relationship is going but they will get there faster on a tadem
After the second Aid Station, I was passed by Ron Kiefel and his sister, Erlinda. I joined them for a couple of miles, long enough to tell him I didn’t know how they could race on when a teammate goes down. It does leave one shaken. I was still shaken. But I wasn’t invited to join the two of them and soon let them go.
Colorado Springs – The End
A few pictures. A few more miles and then I arrived the finish line. It didn’t feel like an accomplishment although many people were celebrating it as such. Volunteers were handing out pins. For me, it was just over.
Beautiful views at the finish
I loved Ride the Rockies. I was asked by Lauren Hunt of the Davis Phinney Foundation to return next year and ride for them – a real honor to be sure. The memories I take are not of the riding although hard to beat a six-mile stretch off Wolf Creek Pass where I averaged 40 mph. But I will remember the people – Chris and Erin, the kayakers in Telluride; George Hincapie and Connie Carpenter; Bob Roll, the rider from Haymarket; a veterinarian from San Diego; an 8-year-old boy at Oak Lodge in Pagosa Springs; Lauren and Jenna from the Davis Phinney Foundation; Ron Keifel and his sister, Erlinda; the paraplegics riding with hand cranks; and Margaret and John riding with Parkinson’s. And many more that I have left off.
A standing ovation for the Colorado State Patrol arriving in Colorado Springs
This is one event, maybe the only event, that I can see myself returning to.
