barrysherry - peaceonabike

September 9, 2012July 23, 2015

Storms on the Mountain

THURMONT, MARYLAND

I planned to get to Thurmont early for the Civil War Century because severe storms were forecast to move into the area around 3:00 or 4:00 p.m. Up at 5:15 a.m., I still got caught in traffic north of Frederick as a “mudder” event with 20,000 participants was also being held and traffic was backed up for miles. I was wheels down at 8:18 a.m. – an hour later than I had hoped.

Ominous looking early morning sky to the west

After a seven-mile warm up climb through Catoctin Mountain Park, ones comes to Wolfsville, Maryland. Just beyond Wolfsville is a hill. It has no name – I just call it “50 mile hill” because two years ago I hit 50 mph on the descent. Like last year, I didn’t recognize it when I descended and only hit 47. So I decided I would double back one mile and try it again. I had a head wind and gave it my all and hit 49.1 mph. Sigh. I decided there would be no third time.

I caught, Jeff, who was wearing a RAGBRAI XL (40 years) jersey. I had talked to him in the parking lot briefly and we would ride together the rest of the day. We chatted about family and RAGBRAI. He attended this year with his 16 year old son. As for RAGBRAI, like me, he was basically one and done unless his son wanted to do it again.

Jeff

As I rode I didn’t feel particularly well, especially approaching the climb on South Mountain. I never thought about abandoning or sagging back, I just thought it would be a day where I would suffer through. I usually finish what I start.

South Mountain rest stop

The route took us off South Mountain to Sharpsburg and past the battlefield and cemetery at Antietam. I think there’s a 50 mph hill in the park. I’m not entirely certain because when I rode it during Bike Virginia my Garmin was in a pause mode. I thought briefly about riding it today but decided to ride on ahead.

Mount Aetna Rest Stop – Before the Storm

At the second rest stop, halfway at the Mount Aetna fire station, there were some guys with radios and Jeff said they told him the riders should take the bailout route back to start as the storms were very strong. I have no pictures available to share on this blog but looking to our left the sky was already an ominous black color. And it wasn’t yet 1:00 p.m. We knew some massive storms were close.

Quietly it seemed riders massed as though there were safety in numbers although I’m not sure that is the case. Just outside Smithsburg we began the climb to go back over South Mountain. And South Mountain stood between us and Thurmont.

Then the rain came. Hard. And lightning. Thunder. COLD rain. Wind. Although it was a tail wind, it also contained lots of debris, mostly leaves and small twigs although it was certainly knocking down branches and trees too — but we weren’t getting pelted by those. It wasn’t fun being on the road. Pounded by a driving cold rain and being hit by debris, we stayed on the shoulder and hoped any passing motorists would see us.

When we traveled through Boonesboro an hour earlier the temperature hit 90. Now on the mountain the temperature dropped to 66 degrees. This was a massive storm front.

We were guessing the best way back. I know the official bailout route was up ahead in Blue Ridge Summit, Pa., but it seemed we could do better. We passed a road marked Md. 77 with a sign towards Thurmont which really was the best way back. That would have connected us to the road we rode out on in the morning.

Instead, we stayed on course and began the climb up Raven Rock Road (491). Two miles up there is a turn on Ritchie Road, a lightly traveled heavily forested road. Jeff and I opted to stay on the main road hoping it was a direct, or least a shorter way to Thurmont. Turns out it wasn’t. In fact, when we reached the top of the mountain we were probably 200 meters from where we would have been had we stayed on Ritchie Road.

Fort Ritchie Road

We turned down Fort Ritchie Road and saw it was littered with tree debris. We were told a power line was down in the other direction. We found our way through the debris.

Drenched – but safe

Arriving back at Thurmont the rain stopped. Briefly. I started to second guess our decision to abandon but accepted the fact that getting back safely was the most important thing. There were more storms behind this first one and the most important thing was that we made it back safely and can ride another day.

I didn’t get to Gettysburg but this still is one of my favorite routes. But I learned additional roads to ride on. And for the first time, the lines weren’t too long for the Antietam Dairy ice cream.

August 27, 2012July 23, 2015

24 Hours of Booty

COLUMBIA, MARYLAND

First the name. The “Booty Loop” is an area in Charlotte, NC in the Myers Park neighborhood where a number of fit people, runners and cyclists, go to exercise. Or maybe look at booty.

A fundraiser for cancer, the 24 Hours of Booty started some 10 years with loops around the neighborhood. Someone else can check my facts but this is pretty close.

Five years ago it came to Columbia, Maryland, then Atlanta (or maybe that was before Columbia) and this year, Indianapolis. Again, check my facts.

Each event is a 24 hour event and benefits the national beneficiary – the Lance Armstrong Foundation (Livestrong). Each also benefits a local charity. For Columbia it is the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults.

Credit: Mark Ricks

I was asked to ride for Team BootyStrong by Bryan McMillan. And so I accepted the invitation.

My legs

Arriving at registration, I made a “Memory bib” for Jake the Hero Grecco and asked a volunteer to write his name on my legs. I then took my position at the front of the group as survivors were asked to come up front to lead out the Survivor Lap.

Bryan McMillan honored Jake too

There was a DJ who introduced Basil Lyberg, Executive Director of 24 Hours who gave short remarks. After the National Anthem, we were off.

Credit: Mark Ricks

I hadn’t been on this 2.1 mile loop before and had no idea where we were going but followed one or two guys in front. After 1.5 miles and a slight downhill I could see the Start/Finish which had a half mile uphill “climb,” about a 4% grade. Here I took off just enough to be the first to complete the first lap. And then I rode.

Bootyville

I soon started catching people — lapping them — and almost immediately I saw Kevin Barnett, one of the Team San Francisco riders. Kevin and I rode together for a while but eventually I accidentally pulled away. But then I caught my Pedal Pal, Patrick Sheridan.

Kevin Barnett

Patrick or Kevin and I, rode together most of the day. I also rode with Liz Kaplan, a 2011 alum of Team Seattle.

I had decided I would do 20 mile loops, 10 laps, and keep fresh. I stopped at 20, 40, and 60 miles. At 80 miles I pulled over for dinner then turned on the front light that I had borrowed to ride at night. For the next 10 laps I rode with Kelsey Jones, a cancer survivor.

Kelsey Jones. Credit: Mark Ricks

I also surpassed the 5,000 mile mark for the year, the earliest that I have ever hit 5,000 miles. Well, it was only the second time, and that was two years ago in late November.

Credit: Mark Ricks

After 120 miles, just before midnight, the light went out and so I pulled off and went to the midnight pizza party. With no front light, I called it a night and checked into my hotel (even though it was a primarily a camping event).

Night riding at Bootyville

And I’m glad I did. A storm came through and the course was closed for safety. After a short night’s sleep and the morning storm I came back and discovered my friends had left. But I found another friend and we rode for 25 miles. Then lunch. Then another 22 miles.

Although there were few people left at 2:00 p.m. I thought it was appropriate that I ride the last lap as well as the first. And we swept up any riders on course so that eight of us finished together. In a storm.

I was first and I was last.

Just as we finished the sky opened up and it was a matter of getting to the car safely.

After the 24 Hours I got home and signed up to do it again next year — this time riding for Jake’s Snazzy Pistols.

August 18, 2012August 4, 2021

My Last Hillclimb

PINKHAM NOTCH, NEW HAMPSHIRE

This was the last time. Write it down. I don’t ever need to do this again.

Although I had registered (and paid) for the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb back in February, as the week got closer I just wasn’t feeling it. With a crappy weather forecast pending, on Wednesday I canceled my three hotel reservations for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

On Thursday, I reevaluated and decided I would do it after all. I traveled yesterday to New Hampshire. I found a hotel and was on the road by 8:00 a.m. It’s probably not the best way to prepare for a race — no exercise and riding in a car all day long.

Mt Washington in the distant background. Not the tall peak but the one to the left even farther away.

The Hillclimb requires every rider to have a ride down. And I didn’t have one. But that’s part of the charm of this race. Too late to pick up my packet at the Auto Road and meet someone in line willing to give a cyclist a ride down, I depended on an online forum. I posted my request at 7:00 a.m. and hoped that someone would call or text.

The favorites: Marti Shea and Tinker Juarez. Don’t know the others.

Twelve hours later I finally received a reply. I was called by Alexa Gubinski. She offered up her family to drive and I was able to sleep well not worried about my ride down.

This year was different than the past five years. I didn’t worry about the hillclimb when I slept. It was just another night except for the early wake up call.

The Gubinski Family Nicest. Family. Ever.

I arrived at registration early. Vic and Alison Gubinski and I met and talked for a while, all along while I was delaying them from going up too early and being too deep into the parking lots. It was a last-in-first-out operation. They took my bag of warm clothes and headed up the Auto Road.

Unlike years past, I wasn’t anxious or nervous. I knew the climb. I knew it would hurt. How much — I never remember from year to year. I think the mind prevents us from remembering too much pain.

While my group, the last group, was already queued up, I was still in shorts and tennis shoes. Rather than an extended warm-up ride, I settled for a quick one-mile spin. I got in line with about 30 seconds to go and took my place at the back of the group. I was the last of the last.

My goals remained simple. Finish. Don’t stop. Don’t crash.

I didn’t want to end my ride with a time that was worse than last year’s time but was resigned that time didn’t matter.

The starting gun went off and someone, near the back, asked if that was our group. I laughed. Yea, we weren’t moving. Although it may have taken just 20 seconds or so to roll out, it seemed much longer.

Tinker finished fifth. Credit: Vic Gubinski.

After a couple of hundred yards of flat the climb begins. And never stops. It’s 12% out of the box and just keeps it pegged there. I soon found where I belonged. Having started last I wasn’t in danger of being overtaken by anyone. It was just a matter of passing people.
Eventually, I settled in — almost all of the race was in front of me and the folks I passed were behind me. I was slowly passing some of my green group but also was catching purple (5 minutes ahead), blue (10 min.), and yellow (15 min.).

But the race isn’t about people other people – except for the top 20 or 30 who are actually racing. It’s about you. You and the mountain.

Whether it’s mile one, two, or six, or every one of my 10,172 pedal strokes — at some point, the body says to quit. Or in my case, almost the entire way. And today was no different.
It’s always easier when everyone is moving even at the same pace. I found it much tougher when I pass people who are stopped or even slumped over their bikes. And I heard the clunking of gears behind me and then a scream of “oh shit!” as someone fell over. Been there.

Two things kept me going. One was the thought of Jake The Hero Grecco. When I wanted to quit I thought of the fighting spirit of this little boy who kept going. I even called out for a blue butterfly but at this altitude, nothing was taking flight. And I kept thinking that this will be the last time I make this climb and I could not stop.

The weather was about 70° (21C) at the base but was quickly too hot. As I climbed, especially above the tree line, it got much cooler. At the summit, it was in the low 40s (5C) but with no wind.

As I approached the base of the last 200 yards I saw Vic and heard the rest of the family cheering for me. That was nice. Although I didn’t see it at the time they had chalked my name on the pavement at the finish.

This was the only time that I actually raced. I had felt the presence of a rider coming up behind me and I didn’t want to get caught or passed at the finish. It makes for a bad photo. I lifted the pace and climbed up the 22% grade. I saw the clock and thought it was 2:02 (which was really 1:42) but it must have been 2:07.

As soon as I finished I was met at the top by Vic and his son, Lucas. Since they had my bag of warm clothes I quickly changed out of the jersey which was as full of sweat as any I can recall. I was sweating but with the cold air, the jersey and gloves weren’t wicking so well. It was great to change into dry clothes. Down at the car I was able to shed the shorts too.

At first, I thought I had a personal best on the climb but then learned I didn’t. But my best time came when I was about five pounds less which does make a difference. But it doesn’t matter. But it wasn’t my worst time either. It was exactly in the middle.*

There is an immense feeling of satisfaction in crossing the finish line. But I’m not so sure that feeling is still greater than the suffering on the way up.

But it probably is.

Photo credits: If I’m in it, Vic Gubinski. But I took the ones at the bottom of the mountain.

EPILOGUE – On February 1, 2013, I received an email from Vic informing me that Alexa, Lucas and he all signed up for this year and asked me to go along. I was so looking forward to Hillclimb retirement. But I’ll go back. This next one will be my last hillclimb.

*Actually, it was my second-best time. Some of this depends on where I am when the starting gun fires. But measured by the Strava segment defined as Mount Washington which is point to point, it was 1:46:48. Not great wasn’t quite as bad as I thought. Or was it?

August 6, 2012July 23, 2015

Mount Shasta Century

MOUNT SHASTA, CALIFORNIA

Mount Shasta is a long way from San Francisco. Who knew?

I came here for the Mount Shasta Summit Century. Having done four centuries in four days less than two weeks ago, I wasn’t worried about my fitness. I was, however, worried about my bike. I was on a borrowed bike – a steel Trek touring bike with bar-end shifters and 32cc tires. A flat one (tire) at that.

Grand Depart – 6:30 a.m.

That was not the best bike for climbing. Heavy and sluggish, I struggled with it the first 25 miles. And those were rollers.

Spillway at Lake Siskiyou

Deron Cutright and Tamy Quiqley had set me up with the bike for which I am thankful. I never look a gift bike in the mouth. I may make fun of it in a blog for all to see but I will never look it in the mouth.

The day started cool, low 60s, and with a few rain drops but not enough to say it was raining. It would warm up considerably throughout the day.

Lake Siskiyou

The first rest stop was in Weed, California, always a good place for some jokes. Up until then the road was best described as rollers although there was a six-mile descent – never a good thing at the beginning of a long ride. Those are best saved as rewards at the end.

Weed, California

Climbing back to the City of Mount Shasta, the first real climb began. The scenery was gorgeous. We were in a forest with each pedal stroke climbing higher amongst the rocks and trees. Behind me was a great view of Mount Shasta which I would see on the six mile descent after we turned around.

Climb up W. A. Barr Rd

After the descent we immediately began the climb to Crystal Lake. This was a climb which took us to more than a mile high. Strangely enough, the 14 minutes down, at 30 mph, seemed longer than the hour climb up the mountain.

Mt Shasta from W.A. Barr Rd

After 72 miles the sweetest was yet to come. On the cue sheet it appeared to be a 13 mile climb up to 7800′. However, I was out of time. Having stayed on East Coast time, and knowing it would be another 2 1/2 hours to climb and descend, I knew I didn’t leave myself enough time to safely drive back to the San Francisco airport.

My legs felt good. My lungs felt good. My bike? Not so good. My body clock? Awful.

Tamy Quiqley on W.A. Barr Rd.

Had I been on my own bike I think I would have foolishly taken the time and made the climb. Foolish because Mount Shasta is a long way from San Francisco and I had a flight to catch. I briefly even had a reservation for a red eye which I would not have made.

Railroad Tracks in City of Mount Shasta

Given those circumstances, I called it a day. I had to get on the road. As it was, I did not get to my airport hotel until midnight and I had a 6:00 a.m. flight — and return the rental car at 4:00 a.m.

I am very satisfied with the 72 miles. There was a time when I first started that I had to prove myself I could finish. Today I knew I could finish, even on the “Family Truckster” borrowed bike. I just didn’t have time. I doubt that I get to try this one again but would love to — on my own bike and with more time before my flight home.

August 4, 2012May 29, 2023

San Francisco

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

Rodrigo Garcia and I met at the Mill Valley Community Center parking lot. We rode to meet the 4K for Cancer group on the last day of their 70-day journey across the U.S. and were surprised when they went by us in the opposite direction. We turned, gave chase, and caught them – because we could.

It wasn’t just surprise but something seemed odd. Rodrigo had delivered a mail stop to them yesterday and we left with solid plans including their roll-out time. A number of them had our cell numbers and were to contact us if that changed, It did and no one notified us. It felt as though we weren’t welcome to see them today.

Ever since saying goodbye to them in Manassas, Va., two 1/2 months ago, I wondered if I would see them again. I rode with them, from Baltimore to Alexandria, and then to Manassas, and it was great that my west coast trip coincided with their finish.

We were on a bike path and I first rode behind Kelly Schofield. Her rear tire was split and looked as though it would blow at any time. I was horrified, knowing the risks one takes on bad tires. But a number of the 4K cyclists rode on tires as bad or even worse than Kelly’s. With pride.

The lack of safety awareness greatly concerned me. They told tales of descending at 40 mph on worn-out tires.

But one need not have bad tires to cause a crash. On an easy rollout to San Francisco, Michael Wray crashed hard in Sausalito. No one seems to know why – one second he was upright and the next second he was down on the road. He had some pretty nasty road rash on his legs and arms and a busted lip. Ouch.

We rode with the 4K to their photo ops on a foggy Vista Point and into Crissy Beach in San Francisco. At Vista Point, Rodrigo and I were introduced to the COO of the organization, a guy named Brian. I extended my hand and said, “My name is Barry.” He looked at me and said, “I know who you are.” It was a very strange greeting and was quite unbecoming of a COO of a cancer non-profit. I guess I crashed his party. Clearly, I was not welcome.

Briefly leaving Vista Point I rode again with Jeff Graves, Chris Chitterling, and Lauren Schoener. It was a reunion from the first day. Along with Patrick Sheridan, the four of them had been my riding partners the first day.

It was also a bittersweet day for me. I started and finished the 4K as a Pedal Pal. The most inspirational Pedal Pal, Jake “The Hero” Grecco, did not finish. His health took a turn for the worse around Memorial Day. While he had hoped to be in Baltimore to meet his Pedal Pal, Chey Hillsgrove, he was too weak and tired. And just three days before the 4K ended, Jake passed away.

While the riders were wearing their 4K jerseys, I wore my special one. Cyclists Combating Cancer, I have written on the back “In Loving Memory, Jacob Grecco, 2004-2012.” I felt empowered riding with the 4K wearing Jake’s name.

My jersey for Jake
(On left – Erin Mack, Jeff Graves)

We had a nice ride across the Golden Gate Bridge and then stopped to let the 4K finish at Chrissy Park on their own to the applause of friends and family. When we joined them I met a “Pedal Pal” from Sausalito. She told me she found out about the 4K from an article in RoadBikeRider.com. Yes! I had contacted publisher John Marsh about running an article seeking Pedal Pals and was very happy that it paid off.

The riders enjoyed a closing ceremony — I said goodbye to my Pedal Pal, Patrick, and Rodrigo and I rolled back to Mill Valley.

Barry Sherry, Peter Bai, Rodrigo Garcia
Riding partners the day before

In Washington, D.C., I have to be mindful that many people on bikes are tourists and to be careful when riding near them. But Rodrigo and I both agreed that perhaps the single largest location for tourists to rent bikes is in San Francisco to ride over the Golden Gate Bridge.

Approaching the bridge I had a tourist stop in the bike path and turn his bike width-wise and block 3/4 of the lane. I put my foot down to avoid a crash. And on the bridge itself, Rodrigo had a tourist step back (taking a picture) into his path. When he swerved it was in my path and I hit him. How neither of us crashed hard on the bridge I’ll never know. Somehow we stayed upright.

It was good to see the 4K finish. While their bicycle journey across the U.S. ended today, it is my hope that their journeys as cancer fighters never end.

IN LOVING MEMORY
JACOB GRECCO, aka BATMAN

August 4, 2012July 23, 2015

Marin County

MILL VALLEY, CALIFORNIA

Rodrigo Garcia and I met at the Mill Valley Community Center parking lot and rode up to Scout Hall where the 4K for Cancer group was staying. Upon arriving we asked if anyone wanted to go for a 40 mile tour of Marin Co. Only Peter Bai was willing to go with us.

It was cool if not cold. I wasn’t prepared for it expecting to ride in 90 degree weather each day. I should have remembered Mark Twain stating “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” Thankfully, I had brought along my base layer jacket which I would wear.

(Or maybe Mark Twain didn’t say it. See SanFranciscoHistory.)

We rolled through the communities of Mill Valley, Corte Madera, Ross, and Fairfax; Rodrigo being the perfect host pointing out tidbits of information. When we turned to ride up to Alpine Dam we all stopped and removed the outer wear we had on. Just a few miles north made all the difference in temperature. Thankfully, Peter had a bag on the back of his bike where he could stow my jacket.

I had rented a Trek 1.2 from Summit Bikes in San Rafael. It wasn’t set
up for climbing, at least for my climbing, and I soon knew it. I followed
Rodrigo’s wheel and at times it seems he was pedaling twice as fast
although we were going the same speed. He was spinning. I was mashing.

It was a very relaxing climb. The weather was perfect. The views were
gorgeous. And the company was superb! And we stopped to take pictures.
It really was a great day on the bike.

Peter Bai, Photographer

After having ridden about 25 miles Peter asked how far we were planning to ride. I told him 40 miles and he said “I thought you said four miles.” We laughed at him. A lot. He explained that he thought it would be four that turned into 10 so he never said a word. Now he was on the hook for 40.

The Pacific Ocean is under all that fog

After Alpine Dam we climbed up to Mt. Tam (Tamalpais) and that wasn’t so bad. Until we reached the summit or plateau. Then began a stretch known as the “Seven Sisters” and even Rodrigo thought there were more hills than seven. It was gorgeous here but the road dropped in maniac undulations, each climb taking a bigger toll on me.

To our right was the Pacific Ocean but all we could see were clouds of
fog below us. It was like flying above the clouds. Reaching the main intersection we could
continue to Mt. Tam State Park or start our descent. Here Peter would extract
his revenge. When Rodrigo asked if we should descend or go to the
State Park, Peter said “let’s ride.”

Peter Bai

I was hoping the road was simply a summit road but it wasn’t. More climbing. It featured some crazy sections of 18% grade. We were rewarded with a view of San Francisco – covered by fog. Couldn’t see a thing other than the tower on Pacific Heights sticking through the clouds.

We turned and headed back, mindful that we also had some screaming descents on the way to the park. We had to climb out of here before descending.

Once back to the intersection where it was still warm, we stopped and followed Rodrigo’s direction to put our warm clothes back on. That was backwards in that usually most mountains are cool and the valleys are warm, Mt. Tam was warm because it was above the clouds and fog. Once we started the descent it got cold. The closer we got to Mill Valley the colder it got. The winds blew in from off the ocean making handling the bikes tricky.

Overlooking Mill Valley

I was disappointed I couldn’t go faster on that Trek – but I made it. Back at Scout Hall, we celebrated by going to In-N-Out Burger – a perfect way to end the day.

July 28, 2012September 1, 2021

Let’s Get This Over With

CLINTON, IOWA

Although I had planned which cycling kits I would wear throughout the week and I still had clean kits to wear, the RAGBRAI XL and Bike Virginia jerseys were still available, I decided to wear my Cyclists Combating Cancer kit again. I had washed it in the shower on Monday although it’s never laundry fresh until it is washed for real.

But I wanted to display my support for Jacob Grecco and took a permanent marker and wrote PRAY FOR JAKE on my jersey. Jake had gone to Germany for two weeks of treatment and responded very well in the first 10 days or so. But just a couple of days before scheduled to return, he had become very ill.

With a feeling of “let’s get this over with” and wondering how my legs would respond to a 72-mile ride after 500 in five days, I rolled out of Anamosa early. The intense heat had broken from the storm Wednesday in Marshalltown and it may have been in the 50s when we rolled out so early. It was very delightful.

Early on I passed an older woman with a “license plate” on her bike that said Prayer Requests Taken. I rode by and said “Jake the Hero.” She may not have heard me as I kept going. When I stopped at a farm stand for some juice and a muffin, I saw her go rolling by in the crowd. This time I would do it right.

I caught her and told her “Jake the Hero.” I told her Jake was in Germany and we were trying to get him home. She said she would pray for him but wasn’t sure of his name. “Jake the Hero” is enough, I said. “God knows who he is.”

I passed a girl with two flags in her helmet – a Swiss flag and a U.S flag. I asked her if she was from Switzerland and she said she was. Near Zurich. Her sister had been an exchange student and came back to visit her host family so she came with her and rode RAGBRAI.

Coming into Delmar I stopped at a corner Lemonade Stand — just 25 cents a cup. Two cute kids ran the stand and I was tired of water and Gatorade. I gave them a dollar for a cup and they started to make change. I laughed. “Everything’s a dollar (or more) on RAGBRAI,” I said. I got a second cup then gave them another dollar and they filled my water bottle with Lemonade. And gave out free Rice Krispie treats.

Two girls selling lemonade – and a free Rice Krispie treat too – Delmar, Ia.

RAGBRAI means a lot to the communities. Countless people had water hoses turned on. Some were sprinklers where one could ride through; others were looking to spray those who wanted to be sprayed. When I took the time to stop it was fun meeting people although I would not try to meet people in every town. To do so would mean I would never finish.

I passed a roller blader — “The whole way?,” I asked. He said yes. Impressive.

At ten miles to go the signs marked each mile. A couple of miles from the Mississippi River in Clinton, Iowa, people lined the streets and sat in their yards as though they were waiting for a trade to pass. And they were. We were the parade. Most were clapping. Almost all had congratulatory signs.

It meant a lot to the people to congratulate the riders. Approaching Clinton we passed a park and the River City Band was playing. These are good folks these Iowans.

I went to the finish banner and although I said I would not dip my tire in the Mississippi, I followed the crowds and did so. I was only reserving dipping for the occasion when I ride across the U.S. and use the oceans as my dipping points. But it was fun.

Dipping. Or preparing to dip, in the Mississippi River.

I then made my way to the Brancel Charters meet-up point which was the long-term parking area. I found my luggage then pitched my tent to let it air since it had dew on it in the morning. I had a few hours before my group finished so it could air out before I packed it for the ride home.

Mississippi River, Clinton, Ia. – 2021
(Showing the ending location used in 2012 and 2021)
Source: Facebook page of RAGBRAI, posted 31 Jul 2021
Two riders on right: Paul McClintic and Kevin Skellenger. Source: Des Moines Register, 31 Jul 2021

Noticing my mileage, I then went for a 10-mile ride to make it 700 for the week. It was a good week.

July 27, 2012September 29, 2021

Livestrong for Jake

ANAMOSA, IOWA

I had wanted to ride with Scott Scudamore and his friends from IMBA although they constantly stroked my ego by telling me how much stronger and faster I was. Today would be the day. I would stay with them no matter what.

We stayed together nine miles.

Overnight we had camped on the outskirts of Cedar Rapids. In the morning we rode to the downtown area. When we came to Czech Village they had “Breakfast on the Bridge” which was very nice. But it also meant confusion in walking across the long bridge over the Cedar River.

Breakfast on the Bridge – Cedar Rapids, Ia.

I found two riders of Scott’s group on a tandem, Nancy DeVore and Coroleen Bean and stayed with them for a couple of blocks as they tried to get the front wheel of their recumbent fixed. And did.

After the repair, I slipped into the Chrome Horse Saloon for an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet ($8) and never saw anyone from Scott’s group the rest of the day. I honestly tried to stay with them. No matter what.

All alone with 23,000 other cyclists, I headed towards Anamosa. There were a couple of climbs coming out of Cedar Rapids which slowed many riders. I passed a rider from LIVESTRONG but kept going. At the top of the climb I decided to wait for her. After a few minutes and thinking I had missed her, I jumped on the bike then more LIVESTRONG riders passed by me including this one.

This time I did not miss my opportunity. Eliza Hanson was riding in Honor of “Normal” so I asked her what “Normal” was. Eliza told me that cancer patients don’t want anything other than to be Normal. And that was what she was riding for.

Then I told her I wanted to write on her back. I wanted her to ride for Jake. And she let me. I told her the story of Jake and then wrote “Jake The Hero Grecco” on her back and then left to never see her again.

I was surprised with the ease and my interest in riding with the cycling cancer community at RAGBRAI. Four years ago I wouldn’t have wanted to ride with them and now I found myself seeking them out.

On the ride it was college spirit day. Riders were asked to wear their alma mater or favorite college jersey. With the NCAA sanctions against Penn State coming down, it wasn’t a good time to be a Nittany Lion. I wore the sweater of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Yes, I know, that’s not a college.

Arriving Mt. Vernon I suspect that every college in Iowa had a booth on the side of the
streets and this was one you absolutely had to walk through. Slowly. Mount Vernon is a beautiful town and home to Cornell College.

All week we had been traveling with Brancel Charters. There are different levels of charters available but with Brancel we knew our luggage would be transported separately from RAGBRAI’s and we didn’t have to sort through it. It also meant that we had our own camping area scouted out. Today it was next to the community swimming pool and stage.

Camping at Goettsch Funeral Home, Anamosa, Iowa

I pitched my tent next to the swimming pool — a bad idea — and then — went for a ride. I had promised myself to rest some and not do a fifth straight century ride. I had a feeling that might not be good for my body. Today’s ride was listed at 42 miles although we seemed to be six miles from the start point so we were at 48 miles when we arrived in Anamosa.

I set out to explore the town. I found a penitentiary, then Riverside Cemetery, burial place of the painter, Grant Wood. And I found people camping in the cemetery of the burial place of Grant Wood. With RAGBRAI, anything’s acceptable. And I assume this was a RAGBRAI camp site although do not know for certain.

Although I wasn’t tired, or overly tired, I had promised myself that I would not turn a 42-mile ride into my fifth straight century ride. But my mileage of 75 gave me 500 for five days. Not too bad.

When I returned I noticed two things. First, when I left the pool was empty and very serene. But when I returned it was full of patrons and overflow from the pool ran down the sidewalk right under my tent. This was not good. I tore down the tent and moved it to higher ground.

Camping in Riverside Cemetery, Anamosa, Ia.

Second, there was something big happening at the stage by the pool. And we were the only people who were camping there.

For our last night of RAGBRAI, Bob Brancel brought in a band, Swing Crew, to play for us. Walking towards the stage I could hear the band but only see the audience and they were dying with laughter. I thought the band sounded OK playing “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” but didn’t know why it was so funny. When I walked around the corner I could see that Scott had joined them on stage. He was doing motions to the song, let’s just say these weren’t the motions I learned attending church camp at Camp Allegheny. OMG. So funny!!! (And I deleted the video to protect the guilty.)

Shortly after that Scott then led a number of people on stage (pictured) doing the Conga or some type of line dance. A fun time is always what you get when Scott is around. No, it’s a party.

July 26, 2012July 26, 2021

No More Pacelines

CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA

I quit looking for pacelines. I noticed that most days I rode faster than just about everyone which hopefully isn’t as arrogant as it sounds. On the few occasions I was passed it was usually by a paceline and often I caught them later.

I started to jump into a line but halfway back was a rider who pedaled fast, then braked, then coasted. Repeat. I felt the advantage of riding in a paceline was not worth the risk of a crash. It was easier, and safer, to ride by myself.

RAGBRAI brings out all kinds of riders and probably less than the average number of serious riders. I passed amputees with one leg. I passed tons of recumbent riders including three-wheel ones for paraplegics using hand cranks. Well done my friends! There were families towing kids, either in trailers or on tandems. Which, in the heat, I think they should be charged with child neglect. Children’s bodies cannot regulate the 100-degree heat for 10-12 hours.

There was a banana boat crew – a tandem recumbent that looked like a boat, in yellow, with five wheels. There was a couple who had a tandem painted in the black and white pattern of a cow. And they wore cow costumes. There was even an older lady who dressed up as the tooth fairy.

I was resigned to enjoying the ride when I rolled into Vinton which may have been the first signs of a city we saw since leaving Sioux Center. A guy advertising Pizza Hut was spinning his sign as I rolled by I reminded him we didn’t come to RAGBRAI to eat at Pizza Hut. I went by and stopped — at Subway. It was so inviting.

Air conditioning. And free refills. It hit the spot.

Once out on the road, I caught or was caught by Cindi and Ken Hart. We then rode together to Cedar Rapids. We could talk about cancer and most importantly, Jake the Hero. I also talked about a group of college students from Baltimore cycling 4,000 miles across the U.S. to raise awareness and money in the fight against cancer. My “Pedal pal” on this trip is Patrick Sheridan.

Near Cedar Rapids, we pulled over for some free water supplied by Jerry Ask, a cyclist and multi-RAGBRAI rider. I asked him about a local ride since 82 miles wouldn’t be enough today.

Jerry sent me in a direction to “Czech Town” although it is marked as Czech Village. I wondered if that was a derisive term the locals use for it. But I found the path along the Cedar River he recommended and followed it to Ely, Iowa.

Spokes of Hope / Cyclists Combating Cancer sign

At the campsite, next to Cherry Hill Aquatic Center, the decision was which showers to use. The pool had $5 showers, actually free showers with a pool admission while the shower trailer, next to Pork Belly Ventures, was six dollars. I had heard there was standing water in the pool showers, that they were cold, and were spring-loaded for only a few seconds of water at a time. I opted for the trailers. Plus the line to the pool was long.

Showers on RAGBRAI usually meant a 20-40 minute wait, especially on the men’s side. The women had it better because there were far fewer of them on RAGBRAI.

The Brancel Charter moving van which transported our gear every day

Dinner was at Cedar Hills Community Church nearby – prepaid when I registered with Brancel Charters. RAGBRAI campers were spread out through Cedar Rapids. We were camped next to the water park but there were no close-by eateries. But there was the church close that served dinner which was presented to us as an attractive option. They served chicken breasts and corn. It was pretty good actually.

Mileage: 115. It was my fourth century in four days.

July 26, 2012July 23, 2015

Even Stronger Winds

MARSHALLTOWN, IOWA

I didn’t wear any cancer apparel which would have come in handy today. Riding solo I came to Story City and saw the Spokes of Hope banner on the left. I hit the brakes then went over and introduced myself.

I met Cindi and Ken Hart, “Cindi from Indy” as she says. Cindi and another rider left without me but I pulled over down the road when she had flatted so I could watch him fix her flat. (I really did offer to help but three people on a flat are two too many.)

Cindi Hart

It was another hot day (100+ degrees) day on our way to Marshalltown.
Other than the brief encounter with Cindi, I met no one and just kept
riding to the city. And looking to keep cool.

Cute kids selling water in McCallsburg, Iowa

Many groups or people sold water. Some gave away free ice water. The Air Force
reserve had tanker trucks on the route at one location per day for free
water. Residents had sprinklers next to the road and some had garden
hoses and were more than willing to hose down riders who wanted drenched.

But my favorite stop was in Clemons where a sprinkler hose was stretched across the street. I removed my cell phone from my pocket then enjoyed the water.

Sprinkler hose stretched over the street in Clemons, Iowa

Arriving Marshalltown, I stopped at a convenience store and talked to the manager. I asked him where the locals ride and he told me of a river path on the levee that goes 10 miles out of town. Once set up I went for a quiet 10-mile ride and found a delightful nature center at Grimes Farm. I even climbed a steep hill, on a grass path, to an observation tower.

In Marshalltown I met Michelle Haalman, a fellow cancer survivor and friend of my sister, Brenda. She is working for Bubba’s Pampered Pedalers and often buys Steelers tickets from me. It was nice to say hello.

Highest point in town
Maybe in Iowa*

After a catered dinner ($9) at the site, I went swimming in the Iowa River. The water seemed bath water warm and wasn’t real refreshing. Plus there were small fish nibbling at me.

Art work on the bike trail underpass

At sunset a storm moved in. Not just any storm but a wicked storm. One hellacious wicked storm. Hunkered down in my tent, I thought the sides would tear. I’m guessing two gusts of wind hit hard. The first was 50 mph and the second 60. Who knows, they could have been 20 and 30 or 80 and 90 — but the second was stronger than the first. If my body weight had not been in the tent it surely would have taken off.

Then lightning and thunder struck all around. This was one where you’d see the lighting and hear the thunder, almost simultaneously. Then the rain came. And I was scared. We were among trees and the fear was a branch could be struck and fall and crush us as well. And Marshalltown was the one place on RAGBRAI where they had no safe evacuation for us. No shelter in schools.

We simply waited it out. And no one got hurt although I heard of damage later.

A note about the mileage: I forgot to reset the Garmin after the ride so it includes the first 59 miles of the next day ride. It does not include an extra mile on the levee at the end of the day when I was charging the Garmin and it wasn’t on the bike. Total: 101.5.

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*It’s not. Marshalltown is at 942′. The highest point is 1600′.