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).
Yesterday I had a problem with a loose spoke on my rear wheel and the wheel was out of true. I blamed the wheel rubbing on the brake for my dragging up the Tourmalet and really suffering up that climb.
The local bike shop in St. Lary opened at 9:00 a.m. so Adrian Register and I decided we would see if they could true the wheel before today’s ride. They couldn’t (the wheel was cracked.) Since we didn’t get on the road until after 9:00 a.m. by the time we reached Lourdes we knew our original plan of a 70-mile loop ride would not occur.
We wanted to ride and to see a stage finish and by the time we got rolling, we knew our best course of action would be to ride out and back. We would have to keep an eye on the time to be back by the time they closed the roads at 2:00 p.m.
Team RadioShack Car in Lourdes
A real surprise to us occurred less than 10 km from Lourdes. We were on a flat part of the course when I spotted the tell tale signs of evil. Freshly painted on the asphalt was the Devil’s pitchfork (or trident). I looked up and saw him and stopped. Photo time.
Barry with the Devil (Didi Sefnt)
Many people come to the Tour and hope to see the Devil. Getting a picture is an extra bonus. I got a picture yesterday and now, another one. I wonder if he recognized me from yesterday? I told Adrian no matter what happened, I was happy. My day was complete. My Tour was complete.
The Devil (Didi Sefnt) with Adrian Register
We rode out to Argeles-Gazost where the road turned up. Steep, but this was not the climb up the Col du Soulor. We hit a plateau and went through a small town. I got laughing as I passed a house where some kids, probably ages 10-12, we’re yelling out “hello” to passing riders. They were practicing their English. So I greeted them with a cheery hello as well. And they were pleased.
Barn near Argeles-Gazost
We were watching the time and it was shortly after 1:00 when we turned up the climb to the Soulor which would lead to the Aubisque. If we continued we would be stuck in place so we decided to turn around and get back to Lourdes.
At the start of the climb up the Soulor
At Lourdes we were able to ride inside the barriers until the 1km flag. At that point the course was closed. We walked our bikes for the final kilometer but it was very slow going through the massive crowds. We found the team buses and our plan was to be at the chute where they pass through although we couldn’t get close to that.
Meanwhile, back in Lourdes, Adrian on a breakaway…
Back in town, we took up position on the barriers to watch the caravan go by. It was quite comical because seemingly anything thrown to a French kid would bounce off their hands and into mine. It helped growing up playing sports where we used our hands. And as I did last year during the Tour, anything I caught I handed it to a kid. I’m not a jerk. Usually.
The caravan coming through Lourdes
After watching the caravan go by we moved to the 1K “kite” (generally known globally by the French name, flamme rougue, or red flag). Here we could watch them fly by and watch the last few hundred meters of the race on TV.
The flame rougue two hours before the race in Lourdes
There were a number of Norwegians on our corner but Thor Hoshovld had to overtake two French riders to win. I knew the Norwegians would cheer when Thor made his break but it seemed like everyone was cheering when Thor went ahead with 2k to go.
When we saw Thor fly by, we made our way to the team buses to see most of the riders come back.
Big screen TV at 1km to go
It was a different way to see the tour but got us close to many riders. We heard Thor win but couldn’t see him. We were in the bus area where the riders would be going to their team buses.
Fränk Schleck
We ended up next to Leopard-Trek bus. We saw Fränk Schleck come out (or just before he went in) and sign some autographs.
And I got a picture with the Devil.
Leopard-Trek roster painted on the team bus Andy Schleck, Fränk Schleck, Fabian Cancellara, Oliver Zaugg, Bruno Pires Jens Voigt, Dominic Klemme, Fabian Wegmann, Robert Wagner, Linus Gerdemann ,Davide Viganò, Daniele Bennati, Giacomo Nizzolo, Maxime Monfort, Wouter Weylandt Jakob Fuglsang, Anders Lund, Martin Mortensen, Martin Pedersen, Brice Feillu Will Clarke, Stuart O’Grady, Stefan Denifl, Tom Stamsnijder, Joost Posthuma BOLD = Riders at the 2011 TdF
The route for Stage 12 today would be similar to last year’s stage over the Tourmalet. That happened to be my first time watching le Tour and we looked forward to climbing the Tourmalet. In contrast to today’s chilly or cold weather, last year was a bright and sunny day. When we reached our viewing location in La Mongie, a ski village about four kilometers short of the summit, we were told no more cyclists were being permitted to go through to the top.
Hourquette d’Ancizan
While it was disappointing not to make the climb to the top, we did have a great viewing location with lunch while we waited for the Tour. I have no estimate of the crowds of this year versus last year. The weather today wasn’t nearly as nice but it is also Bastille Day.
Last year I was with Trek Travel with a specific destination including departure time. This year I was riding solo, actually double, as I met up with Adrian Register in St. Lary. Adrian and I had planned out a full day of riding and viewing. We would leave St. Lary then head over the Tourmalet to Luz Ardiden to watch the finish of the stage. It was more than 50 miles one-way so we would have a century ride ahead of us.
Beware the barbed wire
We would be leaving early enough to beat any road closures so this time I would be able to ride up the Tourmalet. Unlike last year when the Tour went over the Col d’Aspin the peloton would go over a ridge parallel to it called the Hourquette d’Ancizan. The Hourquette is a less traveled road, very narrow, compared to the main road that went over the Aspin. Both roads get you over the mountain.
Hourquette
We began the climb of the Hourquette. It appeared to have been recently repaved for the Tour. It wasn’t a smooth asphalt but clearly was new pave. Main roads have markings on either side at the edge and a center line. Narrow back roads have only the markings on either side. “Really back roads” don’t have any markings. The Hourquette had no markings.
Adrian at the Hourquette
Adrian and I started early, shortly after 7:00 a.m. so we could get over the Tourmalet before it closed to all traffic. While we had ridden to La Mongie, I never reached the summit and never felt comfortable telling people I had cycled up the Tourmalet. I hadn’t. Nor could I buy one of those Tourmalet jerseys. I mean I could but I wouldn’t feel right about it.
Cow
At the summit of the Hourquette four cars pulled over to allow an oncoming car to pass. When they did, a car beside me pulled sharply to the right – right where I was precariously perched on the side of the road with a sizable drop and no guard rail. I held onto the car, even grabbing the mirror to steady myself. I heard the passenger yell at the driver. No harm.
Adrian being chastised on my behalf, I think But it was in French
It was a very nice 10km (six miles) descent down the Hourquette. At the end of the descent we stopped as some free ranging cattle were moving. Apparently, they get frightened if you look at them, a challenge I suppose, and I took their picture. Oh oh. They went stampeding by but did not charge us. The Gendarmes were not amused. But then again, they never are.
Didi painting the road
We had another four miles of descending to the Village of the Creepy Dolls (St. Marie-Campon). Then the climb began. The ascent of the Tourmalet went slower than I remembered. And was more difficult. At the end of the second snow shed I told Adrian I had to stop. There, painting on the road, was the Devil! I had to get this once in a lifetime opportunity.
Posing with the Devil
Only a few hundred meters after the Devil encounter, I spotted the Trek Travel tent on top of the restaurant in La Mongie. It was the restaurant “we” ate at last year. Adrian had jumped in our group and Marquette, our wonderful Trek Travel guide, made sure he could join us. I told Adrian that I wanted to stop. At the tent, I fit right in wearing my Trek Travel jersey. One of the guides, Shaun, even offered to take and store my (Trek) bike.
Shaun, from Trek Travel
I laughed. I told them who I was, that I had been on the trip last year, and was just stopping for water for my bottles. Then filled it with energy mix. And ate three bananas. And took some energy bars. I was good to go. This Trek Travel stop was my oasis in the desert.
Trek Travel. Sorry I didn’t get your name.
I’m not sure if the last four km were steeper than the rest of the climb or if it was the cumulative effect of climbing but I was suffering. I cramped when I got out of the saddle and Adrian rode ahead. When I reached the summit I could barely get off the bike.
Barry – with proof that I made it to the summit of the Tourmalet
We both had to dismount and walk through the crowd of cyclists that had already gathered at the summit. After a few minutes and some photo taking, we mounted and headed down the other side of the Tourmalet on our way to Luz Ardiden.
I stopped after about 500 meters. Something didn’t feel right and was making a sound. I discovered that my rear wheel had been rubbing on my brake. Crap. No wonder it was so hard getting up the mountain. My brakes were on!
Llamas
I opened the brakes to stop the rubbing and we only went another couple of kilometers before stopping and watching a herd of llamas go by. After a discussion of the amount of time it would take to return from Luz Ardiden, we decided to return to the top of Tourmalet and watch the Tour from there.
View looking towards Lourdes
We froze. We were perhaps the only people on the summit without jackets. And it was cold. We were woefully underdressed if not dangerously underdressed. The barriers were in place for the last 70 meters to keep the crowds back and designate the King of the Mountain points. Between the barrier and a stone wall which was about 1.5 meters high we squeezed in with our bikes and at times, crouched down to let the barricades block the wind. It was a perfect viewing location. And it blocked the wind.
Restaurant at the summit of the Tourmalet
But then – the Gendarmes. One came over and told us we couldn’t be behind the barriers that were erected for keeping people behind the barriers. We ended up sitting on the wall.
Adrian at the Tourmalet
A great tradition of the Tour de France is the publicity caravan. It is a parade at the speed of the Tour. One of the vehicles in the caravan was advertising Vittel water. Their float was a giant water bottle with a person sitting on it with a long sprayer in hand. On hot days it is great to spray the crown but today was cold. Everyone, except Adrian and me, were bundled up and did not want to get wet. I really thought that common sense may prevail but he looked at the small crowd and sprayed us. Jerk.
The Caravan
As the people on the floats in the caravan threw items, two young French girls jumped down between the wall and the barrier to pick up some of the items that had been thrown. Watching them, we reasoned once the Tour came by, if we jumped down behind the barrier the Gendarmes couldn’t reach us to make us move. And as the first riders came up the climb, we moved back in behind the barrier. Best spot in the house.
Our viewing location – between the barriers and the wall
But on the other side of the road
I understand that a number of my friends saw me on the television broadcast that day. I did not. But I was there in person. Shivering.
Adrian
One of the floats in the caravan was the L’Equipe newspaper. As they threw papers I grabbed two even though I could not read French. As the race came over the top I handed a newspaper to Stuart O’Grady. Pretty cool that he took it and put it in his jersey. Actually I held out a newspaper for anyone to grab and it was Stu who grabbed it. And I saved a paper for my descent too. It helps.
Frank Schleck
Once the road was reopened after the Tour went by, we first descended to La Mongie and stopped again at the Trek Travel location. There I borrowed a spoke tool and tightened up a loose spoke which helped greatly. The wheel wasn’t true, but much better than it was. At Shaun’s insistence, I kept the tool and promised to return it to Trek Travel in the Alps.
José Joaquim Rojas
On the way home we decided to take the Col d’Aspin instead of the Horquette. Adrian says it was easier from this side but I’m not so sure about that.
Col d’Aspin
On the day it was cold, wet, and miserable, but sure full of memories.
The view from Col d’Aspin
As I came into St. Lary at the end of the day, I found a pizza shop.
American Pizza – Pizza with French Fries
Race Notes: First the last four kilometers of the Tourmalet were about the same as the rest of the climb. My suffering was the cumulative effects of the entire climb.
Today I parked near Dulles Airport and rode to Loudoun County H.S. in Leesburg to join a 60 mile ride around Loudoun County visiting quaint little towns celebrating the 4th of July. By visiting I mean rolling through without stopping.
I was better suited to a solo ride today. A solo ride affords me the opportunity to stop and take pictures and the little towns were sure beautiful, all decorated in red, white, and blue. And there was no better picture than a beautiful red barn outfitted in American flags. But I stayed with my group.
We rode through Waterford to Lovettsville, then Hillsboro to Round Hill. At Round Hill I broke off from the group. They had planned to ride down to Airmont then back to Purcellville. That would give them 60 miles.
I headed back on Rte 7 through Purcellville and Hamilton and back to Leesburg cutting a little off the ride knowing I had an extra 20 miles in my legs.
In contrast to the 100 miles in America’s Most Beautiful Ride, today my legs felt awful. I hated not to stay with the group although our group was down to four riders. But I knew to listen to my body.
I stopped by Loudoun Golf and Country Club. But my son-in-law, Byran Snow, the golf pro there, was on vacation.
I stopped in Leesburg for a Gatorade. I stopped on the trail just outside of Leesburg looking for more water. It didn’t work. I stopped at Smith’s Switch Station where at least they had water.
In the end, 70 miles was enough today. Recoup. Rehydrate. And celebrate another year of life.
Long before I owned a road bike, I was riding long distances and generally hating roadies. Now that I am one, I generally hate roadies. Well, dislike them.
Early in the season, I rode by myself from The Plains, Va. to Naked Mountain, and then some country roads. On the drive back I stopped at the Sheetz in Haymarket and saw Vince Amodeo next to the road. I went over to talk with him and learned he had been on a 50-mile group ride, by invitation, and within the first five miles, the group dropped him and a couple of other riders. The Problem With Roadies.
Yesterday I rode to Fredericksburg and yelled out five times “Morning!” to roadies I passed. The number of responses I got back? None. The Problem With Roadies.
Roadies are perceived as arrogant and snobbish. We ARE arrogant and snobbish. We don’t say hi to others when they call out. We drop riders who are a little bit slower than us.
I love to ride but I don’t want to be perceived as a roadie. Let me always enjoy the ride but always remember why I ride. To have fun. Slow down. Talk a little. Wait for those who are slower. And I can say that because I have been dropped many more times than I have had to wait for others.
Yesterday I started on the valley floor near Bedford, Pennsylvania. Following Pa. Bicycle Route “S” I went through New Baltimore but saw a sign for a covered bridge. Even though I was in a hurry to get to my niece, Emily Cramer’s, graduation party/picnic, I also took the time to stop and admire the bridge.
New Baltimore, Pa.
The road stayed flat, although in actuality it had been tilted slightly up for the first couple of miles. But once I turned on Wambaugh Hollow Road it turned up in a hurry. There were grades of 13-14% on this road as it crossed under the Pennsylvania. Turnpike. The Turnpike would go through Allegheny Mountain. I would ride over it on Pa. Rte. 31.
It was a nine-mile climb over the mountain and then had some extreme rollers all the way into Somerset. I was enjoying the descents and climbs too when I thought I saw someone far ahead. At first, I thought it was a cyclist. Then a walker. Then a tractor. Whatever it was was still pretty far away.
I had to climb then crest another hill and thought I would have caught it but when I went over the top I didn’t see a thing. I figured he turned off on a country side road. But on the next climb I saw and then caught him.
“It” was a fully loaded bike with gear off both sides and the back. The rider was standing and pedaling to get all that weight up the hill. I quickly closed the gap and then blew by him. As I did I asked “Where did you come from and where are you going?”
He replied “New York” and said he was following Rte 31. I told him I would wait at the top of the hill.
And so I met Rolf. From Denmark.
Rolf, from Denmark
He told me he was going to get something to eat in Somerset and I told him I would take him to a picnic. And so I did.
We showed up at Emily’s picnic and he was able to eat as much as he wanted.
Rolf had a wedding present and nice clothes on his bike for a couple who were getting married in Vancouver. On July 9. He’s not going to make it.
But everyday he rides until about 6:00 p.m. Then finds a place to sleep.
His adventures have taken him from Alaska to South America. Just following the wind. And the road. And occasionally with help and guidance of people he meets along the way. People who say hi. People who slow down and wait for others. I am glad I waited. The Problem With Roadies.
Rolf (L) and Barry (R) in Somerset, Pa.
People often comment and ask how I meet the most interesting people. Just slow down. Wait. Say hello.
Two years ago I set out from Woodbridge to ride to Charles Town for Fathers’ Day. Dark clouds were in the air and the metaphor was obvious.
Today there were dark clouds, and even a little rain, but no metaphors.
There was a Potomac Pedalers “CC” ride out of Marshall, the Blue Ridger, and I first thought that I would drive to Marshall and ride with them to Rte 7 and then break off and head to Charles Town. But the more I thought about it the more I knew I didn’t want to join them.
Their route would be in the traditional counter-clockwise direction which means they would put in 25 miles before they do any climbs. I wanted to climb Naked Mountain and Mount Weather.
I watched them take off at 8:40 a.m. and I was on the road six minutes later. In the opposite direction. My route choice would let me do the climbs.
It’s been a while since I climbed Naked Mountain in this direction. It kicks up to 17% on this grade. From Markham it’s a 3.5-mile climb to the top and from Rte 17 at Paris, it’s a five-mile grind to the high point on Mount Weather.
My descent to Rte 7 got me to 47 mph. I could have gone faster but had to stop at the bottom of the hill. This is also where I met the Potomac Pedalers group. I left six minutes later and traveled 30 miles and climbed two mountains including 8.5 miles of climbing on two slopes in the time they went 25 miles and had no climbs. That was a slow ride and one I was glad not to be a part of.
And to be fair, they may have had a 20-minute rest break at the general store in Bluemont. I’m not a fan of long stops either.
At Rte. 7 I turned left (west) and headed down to the Shenandoah River. Following a new route, I took Shepherd’s Grade Rd to Wycliffe then Kabletown, before finding Old Cave Road.
I never unclipped or put a foot down for 50 miles from the start until I got within a mile of Ashley’s place. At a railroad crossing that was blocked for repairs, I had to walk my bike over the tracks.
Old Cave Rd., Charles Town, WV
The uncertainty of what lies ahead weighed deeply on my mind two years ago. Today I thought of my life as a survivor. A much different Fathers’ Day ride.
I’m not sure if I would have come back to the Air Force Cycling Classic had not Adam Lewandowski put out a call to The Bike Lane group to ride it together. So I decided I would come back even after not quite forgiving them for only crediting me with two laps last year instead of the eight that I had done.
Registration went smoothly. This year the timing chip was on a comfortable Velcro strap worn around the ankle. Hopefully, it worked as well as it fit.
Mass Start – Notice the white “German” FUCANCER kit
The course wasn’t quite the same as last year. This year it featured two turns of 180º which was a little hairy given the family nature of the cyclists.
On the first lap, I stayed with my team and even was taking a pull at the beginning of the second lap. Then amidst all the “bottle” warnings of bottles on the road from being violently shaken loose from the bikes – the pavement was awful – my Garmin GPS flew off. The mount broke although the Garmin was OK. I had to stop, go back, and gather it. I was done riding in my group.
I put it in my back pocket and pulled it out each lap to reset the lap. It seemed to pick up mostly although there are some places where it looked like I went off course. Maybe my mileage should be a little higher.
At the end of the day I averaged 19.5 mph when moving, that is, when I’m not walking back to find my Garmin. And I got the “gold” medal for completing 8 laps within the 3.5 hour time window.
Last year I set some cycling goals for my recovery. Well, not so much goals as trips. Return to Mount Washington. Go to France.
The excitement of doing this ride faded as time got closer. An unfavorable weather forecast and the feeling that I wasn’t quite ready to pack everything I needed contributed. My bike was being repaired and this was to be my dry run of tearing it down and flying with it before I flew to France next month. I became apprehensive.
My bike was not ready and my local bike shop gave me a rental/demo and that was the bike I would fly with. I flew into Reno yesterday then drove to South Lake Tahoe for check-in. It was cold and rainy. I hoped for better for the ride although the forecast was a high of 52° and showers.
Check-in
Out of the hotel by 5:00 a.m. this morning, I crossed the mountain to Stateline, Nevada where the ride would begin. It was cold and raining, hard at times. I grabbed my jacket but at 5:55 a.m. the rain stopped. I decided not to wear my cold weather shoe covers. Nor did I wear a base layer under my jersey. And I simply forgot my headcover to go under my helmet. I would regret those decisions.
Pouring in the parking lot
I was in line at 6:00 a.m., the earliest departure group from the Horizon Casino. I wasn’t that close to the front but think that in addition to the 15-minute interval start times they may have been sending us off in 5-minute groups as well. It was “wheels down” at 6:07 a.m. Then it started raining. On the roll-out, and it was an easy ride, we passed a bank that displayed the temperature — 38°.
There was something about today that I never experienced before on a ride. In the first 10 miles, it was effortless and that was due to more than just a basic flat profile. I felt I could ride forever.
There were 3,300 registered participants but I wonder how many Californians and Nevadans simply bagged it because of the bad weather? This is Team in Traning’s (TNT) premier century event and 1,500 slots were taken by the TNT riders. Their bib numbers were purple whereas everyone else wore red. Throughout much of the day, I felt like we were crashing their party although we had them outnumbered. It just didn’t seem that way. So I joined them. I “low fived” TNT supporters at many places along the course. I yelled “Team” when I saw them and I encouraged the hundreds of TNT riders I passed on the road.
I would have liked to have been a TNT rider but was told by one of my ref crews a few weeks ago that the fundraising goal was “too high” to go to Tahoe. I asked a DC rider and was told $3900. Having raised $10,000 for LIVESTRONG, I didn’t think I could go to the well again for a free trip to ride. Also, I was not committed to the training aspect, listed as 4-5 months, to get riders ready for their first century ride. I’ve done plenty at that distance and while it would have been fun helping train or coach others, I didn’t have the time available for such a commitment.
I talked to a lot of people along the way. Almost everyone I passed I said “Morning” to (an abbreviated form of Good Morning) and for many, I asked where they were from. Many of the TNT folks had jerseys with their locations so I made it a point to talk to National Capital Area and Western Pa. riders. Go Stillers!
Around mile 7 or 8 one rider was beside me and we must have been going the same speed.
“Where are you from?”
“Marin”
Nice. We struck up a conversation and Rodrigo Garcia Brito would be my ride partner the rest of the way. It started like most conversations but we soon were riding the same speed and we just stuck together.
Facing a long day in the saddle, cold and wet, one could complain or simply go have fun. I went to have fun.
On the climb up Emerald Point
The climb up Emerald Bay was nice and we passed many riders. I checked my heart rate. It was in the 130s. Rodrigo said his was in the 160s. It was effortless going up the 9-10% grade. I knew then it would be a good day. While I froze.
I told Rodrigo that I remembered being here 15 years ago and there was a scenic view stop on the right. We had been on spring break vacation. We came to Tahoe and there was lots of snow in the mountains. Bethany was 15, Ashley 10, and Andrew 7. In town, we had seen some guy and it was almost that he was stalking us. Everywhere we went he was right behind. Creepy.
We drove up to Emerald Point and admired the view and the snow. As we were leaving this stalker drove up. He got out of his car and promptly fell on his ass. It was one of those moments that you shouldn’t laugh but the kids about busted a gut laughing so hard. And we did too. We never saw him after that.
I knew that I would have to stop for a photo op. And we found it. It was the first rest area too although we did not stop to rest or take on any food. Just a picture. In the freezing rain.
For my kids
We continued in the rain with a brief stop on a descent when Rodrigo’s sunglasses fell off. I stopped and eventually went back. By then a number of people had gathered. First, a car came by and just crushed his glasses. Second, by stopping, one rider crashed. Oops.
We made it to our first rest stop, used the porta-johns, took on some food, made a seat adjustment, then took off. We were both near hypothermic. I was shivering, shaking, and just couldn’t warm up. Riding in the cold was fine but that 10-15 minute break cooled us down. It would take about 10 minutes to warm up once we were back on the road.
Pretty impressive bike stand
Rodrigo is a big guy. He appears very strong and this was evident when we turned on Route 89 at Tahoe City to head to Truckee. With all the rain it was not a time to follow someone’s wheel like we normally ride. All you got was a mouthful of road spray. Rodrigo gapped me and kept going, at times was about 100 yards out in front. I couldn’t match his pace on this downhill portion. But we came back together.
Snacks in Truckee
On the way back from Truckee to Tahoe City along the Truckee River, it was uphill and we stayed together. More than 50 miles had passed quickly and we stopped briefly at the Squaw Valley entrance – this the site of the 1960 Winter Olympics.
Squaw Valley
Although we saw some dark clouds ahead, we rolled into King’s Beach just as the sun was coming out and it warmed up to 50°, which seemed like 80°. Nice. We were greeted at the rest stop by Rodrigo’s family. His wife brought him new glasses. Very nice. And she warned of heavy rains ahead. Not so nice. And she would be right.
King’s Beach Rest Stop
We spent a lot of time at this stop. It was the lunch stop and I had a turkey sub. And lots of snacks. The food here was great. Rodrigo spent time with his family. We ate.
Rodrigo’s family
On the day I spent two hours off the bike. That is very unusual for me as I like to stop at 2-3 stops for a natural break, refill the bottles, then grab some food and eat while on the bike.
A Wall of Food
With Rodrigo’s wife and kids here, plenty of good food, and the warmth of the sun even though it was only in the low 50s, we probably stayed close to one hour at this stop.
Rodrigo and Barry
As we rolled out, Rodrigo, a one-time veteran of this ride, warned me about Incline Village. A number of the rich and famous have second homes here and I have been told that includes Brad Pitt and Bruce Jenner and the Kardashians. Maybe/maybe not. But Mike Love (Beach Boys) and Michael Milken do live here. (Read it on Wikipedia so it must be true.)
There’s a fake eagle suspended
by wires above this house
If there was a place that I lost speed compared to the normal terrain it was here. Although there was a three-mile stretch of straight road along Crystal Bay, there were plenty of stop signs each with a volunteer or policeman to make sure bikes stayed in single file and each one stopped completely at the stop sign. A bit ridiculous that four bikes with no traffic following couldn’t roll-up side by side, slow down to 2-3 mph, then take off. But those are their rules and we played by them.
We turned back onto Rte 28 for the ride up Spooner Summit. Here a real break occurred in the riders. Riding casually, we had been passed by two women of the DC Chapter of TNT. We soon caught them and they had joined a group of six or seven, all riding single file on Rte 28. We stayed together until the road turned up. One of the women dropped. So did Rodrigo. The woman I was following passed everyone until there was just the two of us. It started raining again. Heavy this time. The rain turned to sleet. There was just the two of us until she dropped. Then it was just me on the climb.
I passed one woman who asked how many miles we had ridden. I looked down and told her 82. She didn’t believe me and then I said “if you’re riding 100.” She said wasn’t. There were 72 (no trip to Truckee) and 35-mile (boat across the lake) options too.
Just minutes before this photo this rest stop was covered by hail stones
One week ago I sucked. It hurt going up Skyline Drive and it hurt more going up Massanutten. I thought Father Time finally caught up to me. And I was ready to quit. Visions of leading C and D rides danced through my head.
View from rest stop on Spooner Grade
And now at Mile 80, my legs felt as fresh as the first thing in the morning. Never have I ridden 80 miles and my legs felt like this. I wish I knew the secret. No, it’s not EPO or Clenbuterol.
Going up to Spooner Junction
What was different about the three or four days prior to this ride that was different about SkyMass? Too much riding? Too little riding? Nutrition? Altitude?
Not only did I climb well, the entire ride was from 6,000 feet to 7,100 feet except for the dip to Truckee which was 5,900 feet. I thought less O2 in the air meant fewer blood cells and less recovery. More soreness. I don’t know.
Tunnel on U.S. Rte 50 back to South Lake Tahoe, Ca.
From Spooner Summit it was about a 14-mile descent to the finish line with a few rollers at the end. I had been warned that the route was not quite 100 miles so I passed the finish line and circled back to make it 100.
Finish Line
I’ve never been dirtier from a ride than this one. Just lots of sand along the road made worse by the rain. We rode 32 miles in steady or heavy rain but 68 miles without it. Of course when we weren’t being rained on we were still soaked. My white cycling socks will never be white again and I wonder if they will ever dry out.
Brand new bike never been ridden before. Filthy. Sorry.
But I’ve never felt fresher after a ride than this one. No soreness. It wasn’t my best time on the bike but I wasn’t going for time. I just never felt better during or after a ride of this length. In addition, the weather conditions made it a test of willpower.
Logistically, I wanted to do this as a test trip before I go to France. That passed. I built and tore down the bike and am comfortable with those minor repairs. Last year I went to France with Trek Travel and they supplied the bikes. In a few weeks, I will be going on my own and carrying my own bike.
This was a day reserved for appreciating beauty and celebrating being cancer-free. Not only was this one of my recovery goals it was also National Cancer Survivors Day. I never thought I’d do a six-hour century (riding time) here and I didn’t try. With the slow down and stops in Incline Village, the most stop lights I have encountered on a century ride, and a slow rollout at the beginning, I had no dreams of anything less than seven hours on the bike.
Post Ride Meal – Reno, Nevada
Just one week after suffering on SkyMass, I felt great on the bike. Father Time, I guess it’s not my time. Yet.
SkyMass is always a good test of fitness. And sometimes a giant slap in the face.
Starting at the water’s edge in Front Royal, one begins with a 7.2-mile climb on Skyline Drive. That is followed by a two-mile descent and then another eight-mile climb. A two-mile descent follows then another three-mile climb. You get the picture.
This was a Potomac Pedalers ride and I had hoped there would be 30-40 riders at the start. Instead, there were eight. And one had to turn back after 10 miles when his rear derailleur cable broke.
On the first climb not long after entering Shenandoah National Park, I shifted and my chain briefly came off the front chainring. On a flat road this is no problem as I can soft pedal and bring it back onto the sprocket. On a 7% grade this is more of a problem. I quickly lost my momentum and could not unclip quick enough. Gravity won. I steered into a ditch and hit the ground pretty hard but nothing was hurt except my pride.
SkyMass 2011
With the group now in front of me, I simply had to ride at my own pace and catch them 10 miles later although they were never more than a couple of hundred yards ahead of me. I see you – I just can’t catch you.
Skyline Drive. SkyMass 2011
With Mike turning back, there were seven on the ride and three guys went ahead. Four of us would loosely stay together for the rest of the ride.
Thorton Gap. SkyMass 2011
At Thorton Gap, where US 211 crosses under Skyline Drive, we saw an approaching storm that would largely miss us. We followed 211 down to Luray (LOO-ray) and then over to Massanutten Mountain. Here the road kept getting harder. It was only a 3-mile climb which started out as 6-7%, pretty much the same grade as much of Skyline Drive. But the last mile kicks up to 10% then 12%, then 15%. There was even a stretch of 18%.
Shenandoah Valley
I had decided to let the group ride ahead and at one point, maybe twice, I looked up and saw our group leader of the day, Greg Gibson, off his bike either walking or simply resting. It was quite a test.
Thorton Gap. SkyMass 2011
We regrouped at the top and hit the descent off the mountain into George Washington National Forest. The Fort Valley Road featured no more climbs but a series of rollers. I found that while I stayed with the group when we came to some risers I just couldn’t match their pop over the top. I sat up and let the group ride on and decided to meet up at the rest stop.
Storm is Coming. SkyMass 2011
After the stop, we rolled off together. Again, I couldn’t match the accelerations at the end of the rises. The group was kind enough to wait at the last turn as we turned onto Mountain Road. That featured our last climb of the day and like the earlier one on Skyline Drive, a brief shifting moment led to a stuck chain and this time, a hard fall on the floor. Bloodied and beaten, Mike, a British rider waited for me and we rode home together.
Blood!
My injuries were minor; a lacerated pinky, and some road rash on my elbow, and a little on the knee.
At the end of the day, my speed was 14.5 mph which was 0.5 less than when I rode this 13 months ago. With each ride, I wonder if Father Time will reach out and grab me, and today I worry more than ever that he did. One year ago I was just five months from cancer surgery. And I rode faster than today.
I think on that day we stayed together the entire time and I don’t remember a mile when I wasn’t pulling, or more likely, hanging on someone’s wheel. Today I doubt that I was on someone’s wheel more than 15 miles of out 80 and 10 of those were the last miles home as Mike and I rode together.
Maybe it was just a bad day in the saddle. Or maybe Father Time has got his grip on me. Maybe two crashes, which were really fall overs, took their toll on me. I do note that I rode over 5,000 miles last year with only one such incident — with a woman and her dog. And today I had two on one ride.
At the end of the day, I still completed a tough route which was better than sitting at home on the sofa.
A windy day with temperatures in the 70s. I left Ranson and rode on Flowing Springs Road.
Bad roads come in different shapes and sizes and this is a bad road. It’s a two-lane country road with blind curves and no shoulders. A safe speed may be 45 mph but this is signed for 55 and the cars probably do 60-65. I would not recommend riding this road again. There must be a better way.
Main – Shepherdstown, WV
Rolling into Shepherdstown and I thought how much money I spent here. Eight years’ of college tuition payments for Bethany and Ashley. It is a lovely Civil War era town but goes back to the founding of the country when some lawmakers pushed for Shepherdstown to be the Nation’s Capital.
I followed country roads past Cress Creek golf club and the doubled back to Martinsburg.
Bike path, Martinsburg, WV
Leaving Martinsburg, I took the bike path back to Ranson. The new Rte 9 recently opened the entire way from Charles Town to Martinsburg and features a bike path that parallels it. I was alone.
It was windy and after the ride, I felt whipped. But it was a day on the bike which beats a day on the sofa.
