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).
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Thunder in the Valley

LIGONIER, PENNSYLVANIA

A beautiful day with temperatures in the 80s brought out thousands of bikers, as in motorcyclists, to the annual Thunder in the Valley event in Johnstown and the surrounding mountain communities including Somerset and Ligonier. I don’t ride a single kilometer without a helmet and my lasting impression of these bikers will be of the hundreds I saw riding care-free without their helmets. That’s not for me.

I started in the village of Waterford and took Nature Run Road to Laughlingtown. One mile on U.S. Rte 30 and three miles on Pa. Rte 381 was the only flat riding of the day. The three miles from Rte 30 to Rector hasn’t changed much in the 42 years since we first drove it when we moved from Ohio to Rector. It is lined alternatively by a canopy of trees and post and rail fence or borders the Loyalhanna Creek. This is “Mellon Country” having been the home of financier Richard King Mellon and the Rolling Rock Farms. There has been one improvement — the road surface is in excellent condition making this a wonderful ride on a bike.

Devil’s Hole – Rector, Pa.

When we were kids each spring we helped dam up a portion of Linn Run, a very cold mountain stream, so we could swim in Devil’s Hole. A natural pool was 3′ deep and we could get the water level up from half-way to 2/3 of the way on the large rock pictured above. Yes, the cold water was over our heads. Sadly, it is now marked No Trespassing.

Coming out of Rector I climbed the one-mile Darlington Road hill up to Rte 711. In the lower sections it has 15% grade and by the top has leveled off to 11-12%. My route took me on Darlington Road where perhaps I could have hit 50 mph on a descent except I didn’t trust the road surface at this point. It was rough with some loose gravel.

I went behind Idlewild Park and found myself on another great road headed to Bolivar. All roads were climbing or descending. When I reached the end of my loop I decided I would continue on Rte 271 towards Johnstown. Well, not all the way to Johnstown although that would have been a fun destination. But to the top of Laurel Hill Summit.

When I drove the climb it seemed to be a 5-6 mile climb and I wanted to see how my legs would respond on a long climb with a fairly steep grade – consistently 8% but at times 10%. I went three miles and emptied my second water bottle of two. I decided not to continue without water. It was a daunting climb and I have been battling but getting over a three-week illness. Unless… …Unless I saw a woman sitting on a porch. Which I did.

This is a climb on a mountain road. There are very few houses on this road. To find a house and had a woman on the porch was close to a small miracle.

I pulled over and pulled out an empty water bottle and pointed to it. I did talk too but the pointing simply illustrated I was friendly and the reason I was approaching her. I asked for and she willingly filled my water bottle. When I asked how far to the summit she told me it takes her more than an hour to walk it. Great. But on I went. The water was just right even though I could taste the iron in the well water.

Two miles up, and when I thought I was nearing the summit, a car waited for me to pass the entrance to his driveway then the driver yelled out some encouragement. “You’re doing an excellent job.” Maybe he’s a cyclist because most people don’t understand how an almost-defeated cyclist magically gets wings to fly when hearing words like those.

It was another mile to the summit and I rode to the Somerset-Westmoreland County border then turned around. On the descent, I wanted to fly. But I was passed by 12 bikers on six bikes just as I started my descent. Probably 2/3 of all bikers had two people on them. (To be certain, these were motorcycles.)

But as I picked up speed, and I was pedaling, I caught them and then had a dilemma. I wanted to hit 50 mph but to do that I needed to pass them. But I touched my brakes instead. I hit 48 mph but there was no way I was going to integrate with this group. They were taking pictures of one another and almost daring me to pull side by side with them. But I was rolling along on wheels that were 3/4″ wide on a bike made of carbon fiber. There was no way I would try anything stupid at this speed.

They certainly didn’t mean any harm. They were having fun too. But it was too dangerous to ride too close to them. I wasn’t happy that I didn’t hit 50 mph but it was a wonderful day with 50 miles in the mountain.

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A Father’s Day Ride

CHARLES TOWN, WEST VIRGINIA

This would be a special day — a day I needed on the bike. A 70-mile ride from Woodbridge, Virginia to Charles Town, West Virginia to see my wonderful daughters, Bethany, and Ashley, along with my sons-in-law and grandson.

As I left the house the clouds were very dark with strong winds that would be in my face for all 70 miles. And I am thinking this is a metaphor for my life. I am headed into dark storm clouds. Would the clouds give way to blue skies or would thunder and lightning be in store?

I know my fitness level isn’t where I need it so I decided to take my time. As much as I like to push it on the downhills I decided that I would coast down most hills instead of hammering it. I would enjoy those “whew-hoo” moments. My cadence would show that too as I averaged a lot of zeroes with my 90-100 rpm.

I go the shortest route I know. It also has the least amount of traffic but some roads are still dangerous. I go out through Manassas but Sudley Road past the Manassas Battlefield is a tight squeeze. Gum Springs Road to Braddock Road is okay but Braddock Road is a dirt road in poor shape for about three miles. I ride on U.S. 15 and 50 for a combined four dangerous miles.

After leaving Rte 50, Snickersville Turnpike is a beautiful rolling country road that leads to Airmont and a turn towards Round Hill.

At Airmont, one can see the Blue Ridge Mountains. I take satisfaction looking as far as I can see and knowing that I have crossed all the major road crossings over these summits. Straight ahead is Snickers Gap (Rte 7) and Mount Weather. Further south is Clarks Gap (US Rte 50). To the north is Harpers Ferry and the climb out of the Potomac River Valley. Today’s route connects with a shoulderless Rte 9 over Keyes’ Gap.

I made one rest stop — on Braddock Road where I consumed two energy bars. And that was it. I also consumed one energy bar while on the bike as well as one pack of Sport Beans. When I reached Rte 9 just west of Hillsboro I stopped long enough to down a packet of Hammer Gel.

Eventually, blue skies came out but those gave way to dark rain clouds. Going up Keyes’ Gap I was in a mist which I didn’t mind. It helped me cool off while making it easier to breathe. (There is more oxygen in the air when it is raining.)

The ride was difficult for me. Always a headwind, at times there were wind gusts of 30 mph and no one blocking the wind. These rides are so much easier when others share the lead.

The clouds indeed were dark but nothing bad came of them. Hopefully, that too is a metaphor for my life.

Happy Father’s Day!

Stats and Map

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I Don’t Suck — I Have Cancer

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

It was just one week ago that I rode almost 60 miles up through Catoctin Mountain Park past Camp David. On the return to the starting location, I struggled to keep pace with our group of 12 but did hang on. Then I developed a fever. Again. And I was urinating blood.

This was about the sixth fever in the past three weeks. There was something wrong.
I really thought I sucked and was disappointed that I struggled on the day. My fitness level seemed to drop super fast.

After a few more days of being sick and doctor’s visits and tests, I learned this fact: I Don’t Suck, I Have Cancer.

Racing up Mount Washington last year is but a distant memory. Racing this year has been postponed. I have a bigger mountain to climb now. And I’m scared to death.

At the request of some friends, I have created a CaringBridge Page in which you can follow my journey.

NOTE – AUGUST 18, 2009 — I originally posted this the day I learned I had cancer and it remained up for about one week. Then I began a series of second and third opinions, more tests, and biopsies so I removed the post pending verification of the diagnosis.

Unfortunately, the doctor on June 15 was right with his finding and I have decided to make this post visible again.

UPDATE – MARCH 20, 2010 — As a follow-up, the damn cancer wasn’t making me sick, but instead, it was a pretty nasty e.Coli infection. The post should have been I Don’t Suck – I Have an e.Coli Infection. But the testing and diagnosis did lead to the discovery of cancer.

Maybe my last trip – Campground Number 3 – should have been a clue. Outside of my Mount Washington races, my heart rate was the highest it has ever been. I was “in the red” for 17 minutes on that ride as my body struggled to keep up with what should have been an easy ride.

UPDATE – AUGUST 1, 2021 — It has been 12 years since the diagnosis and this post. I learned early on that my first doctor jumped to conclusions in telling me I had prostate cancer. It took a more measured approach before definitely reaching that conclusion.

And for men with my symptoms, i.e., high fevers, urinating blood, severe headaches, and chronic fatigue — see a doctor. If a bike ride doesn’t make it better then you better see a doctor.

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Campground Number 3

FREDERICK, MARYLAND

How quickly the fitness seems to disappear, even while trying to stay in shape by riding on the trainer. There’s nothing like being on the road. Either that or this was a pretty hard climb.

About 60 riders showed up in Frederick for a BB/B ride called Knock Knock Knockin’ on the President’s Door. After leaving Frederick and rolling for about 10 miles we turned into the forest and went through Cunningham Falls State Park and through Catoctin Mountain Park.

My riding was difficult because of a split on my broken wrist. I couldn’t put pressure on the wrist which meant no climbing out of the saddle. Over the next few miles, we had a five-mile climb, followed by a two-mile descent, then a final three-mile climb. The last climb would take us past Campground Number 3.

I was hanging with our group, even while seated until I got a massive cramp in my calf. I sat up, unclipped, and stretched my calf, but never stopped. But I lost time and contact with most of the group and simply had to ride at my own pace. Through most of it, I did keep in contact with one rider and hoped he knew the route. As usual, I didn’t take a cue sheet and had no idea where I was going.

The second climb was sustained at 6% but had grades of 11-14%. I’m just hoping riding in the saddle makes me stronger because it sure didn’t seem that way. I was envious as the other riders all popped out of their saddles for that extra push up the steep inclines.

The two-mile descent was rough on me. The pavement was awful and I am very aware that I can’t go down on a broken wrist. To do so would be risking turning a simple hairline fracture into a compound fracture.

The road was extremely bumpy and it hurt to hold the handlebars with the wrist. I probably lost more time to the group on the descent than on the climbs. I took it slower than most to avoid the vibrations and often just kept my right hand on the handlebars.

On the second climb up Park Central, we passed entrances for Campground Numbers 1 and 2. I had heard about and then saw the entrance on Campground Number 3. It was a much nicer entrance than the other two and had clear signs marked to keep out. This is the presidential retreat, Camp David. But one could only see the entrance road and no structures.

Once I cleared the summit it really was all downhill. I briefly lost contact with everybody at an intersection and just guessed which way to go. I was right. I then caught one rider who told me he designed the route so I stayed with him until the rest stop in Thurmont.

When we left the Sheetz in Thurmont there were 12 of us and we stayed together for most of the ride back to Frederick. At one point, Klara Vrady asked me if I needed to drop off the pace and she would also. A few weeks earlier she struggled and I had met her by riding with her. Now she was offering the same. It was a generous offer and I wondered how bad I looked for her to make the offer. I declined (because I am a man and we decline all offers of help).

All the sitting in the saddle was taking its toll on me and I remember looking at my mileage and thinking there’s no way I can hang with this group for another 15 miles. And then I was told we had 3-4 miles to go. I don’t know why I thought it was a 68-mile route — it was 58. I had it made.

The distance was the same as the Blue Ridger Backwards and Happy Happy Pain Pain and the climbing was slightly less. But sitting in the saddle all day just wiped me out. I can’t wait to get the splint off although there’s a chance it will be re-cast tomorrow. Wish I had never crashed on Bike to Work Day.

Campground Number 3 is located at 21.6 miles on the map.

EDIT/EPILOGUE – I didn’t realize it at the time but I was probably as sick that day as I have ever been with a pretty nasty e.Coli infection.

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Six Weeks or Four Days in a Cast

RESTON, VIRGINIA

Oh, I hope Dr. Hanna does not read this…

It was two weeks ago I broke my wrist in a crash. On Monday after the crash, I got fitted in my waterproof cast. It was waterproof only in the fact that it could get wet.

On Thursday I refereed a high school boys varsity district championship match at Brentsville High School. When I returned home and showered I started to get the chills. The night was awful. I was running a high fever and the pain in my hand was almost unbearable.

On Friday I went back to Dr. Hanna who cut off the cast fearing infection in the wound in my hand which was under the cast. I would deal with the fever until Wednesday. I was drained once the fever broke. I was also on antibiotics to kill the infection if it was biological.

In hindsight, the pain was probably caused by sweat inside the cast from the game which seeped into the open wound. It was very painful and probably unrelated to the fever.

Yesterday, Friday, I returned to the doctor with the expectation of being recast. Instead, Dr. Hanna looked at the wound on my hand and examined my wrist. He was reluctant to cast over the still-open wound on my hand and decided to leave my wrist in a removable splint so that the wound will continue to heal.

The next course of action is an X-ray in another week and then, “if things look good,” remain in the splint for six weeks.

Of course, this allowed me the opportunity to ride with The Bike Lane group in Reston. But I wasn’t ever real comfortable. I normally enjoy riding in the pack but not today. One wrong move by another rider and I could go down. And if I went down on the wrist it could break all the way through. So I ended up keeping contact but a safe distance.

The other concession I made was to stay in the saddle for the entire 28-mile ride. I envied my friends as they popped out of the saddle for an extra burst on the steep climbs. But I did not want to stand and put weight on my wrist. I may have given up a little on the climbs and I didn’t bomb the descents but it was nice to ride again. Ultimately, I am hopeful that forcing myself to stay in the saddle, one gets out because it’s easier, I will become a stronger rider.

Four days in a cast. Not bad for a broken wrist.

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Seven Point Six Miles

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Seven point six miles is the distance up the Mount Washington Auto Road. It is also the distance that I rode today, three days after my bike crash which resulted in a broken wrist.

Perhaps there is some symbolism here. Maybe it’s a “sign” but I’m not sure I believe in signs. I don’t even know how to spell symbolism.

I crashed three days ago more figuratively than literally. A broken wrist and six weeks off the bike off would kill my fitness and preparation for the Mount Washington Climb. Information in the emergency room was hard to come by. I was told simply what I pretty much knew – I broke my wrist.

There was a report slipped in with my X-rays but I dropped those at my former* orthopedic surgeon’s office on Friday without reading it. I should have read it.

That hurt

Today was the day to be fitted for a cast. I was not nearly as depressed going into today as I was on Friday. On Friday I believed all my riding had ended. But over the weekend I decided I could, at a minimum, ride a trainer for the next six weeks although I would miss the long training rides with Potomac Pedalers. I would have to be careful and always remain seated because I couldn’t stand and put weight on my wrist.

Short Cast

But doing training work while seated would be better training than out of the saddle. This may turn out okay after all. Don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather not have a broken wrist but I will make the best of it.

Here is my report: Faint transverse radiolucent line in the distal epiphysis of the radius along the lateral margin suggests undisplaced fracture. The doctor went with a short cast over the forearm, waterproof (cool!), and for four weeks not six, at my urging. I’ll have another X-ray in four weeks and will probably go to hard brace for two weeks after that.

I’m going to make 7.6 miles.

*I wrote about my former orthopedic surgeon. Here’s why.

Rather than go straight to the E.R. on Friday I thought of my surgeon who has X-ray equipment in his office. Thinking I would cut out the middledoc, I went to his office and asked if he could see me. I was told he couldn’t which was partially expected.

Being a foot and knee patient since 1991, I was hoping not to be treated as some walk-in but with some deference to my history there. The receptionist told me to wait and she would check. She checked, presumably with the doctor but who knows? Come back to see us after the E.R.

In the E.R. a nurse asked if I had an orthopedic surgeon. Almost without listening to my answer (yes) she then offered her opinion, “the only thing I would suggest is not to go to [fill in former doctor’s name here].” I told her that was my doctor but I would respect her opinion.

After two hours in the E.R. (not bad for an E.R. visit) I left with my X-rays and drove to Dr. Former’s office. When I tried to make an appointment for Monday I was told the earliest would be Thursday. Frustrated and hurting, I left my X-rays at the office and left.

Potomac Hospital had an orthopedic doctor, Joseph Hannah, on duty so I found his number and called the office. They would work me in on Monday.

Monday came and I went to Dr. Former’s office to pick up my X-ray. They wanted to know if I had made an appointment to pick up my X-rays. Arrrg. Fifteen minutes later I was out of there to see Dr. Hannah. And he’s good.

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Broken Wrist, Broken Dream?

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

I am bummed right now. Everything I have done since July 12, 2008, was to prepare myself for Newton’s Revenge* on July 11, 2009. A 42-mile Bike to Work Day ride may have ended that today when I crashed and broke at least my wrist. Even if the cast is off in time my fitness will be shot.

I made it up the “Rockpile” last year, albeit badly, and Mary Power, the Mount Washington Auto Road Events Director told me it gets in your blood. And it does.

I started walking the 12 floors each morning to my office rather than riding the elevator. I was committed to dropping 12 pounds to a more favorable climbing weight of 160. And I was down to 164 – the lowest of my adult life.

Broken Wrist

I hadn’t yet made the changes to the front ring but was planning to drop it to a serious climbing gear of 24 teeth. I bought a set of lighter wheels perfect for climbing. Last year I was one of the few riders who rode the race in a standard factory setup with no gear modifications. This year was going to be different. It had to be different.

I started a training program designed to increase my power. And after the first week of workouts, it may have been working. I noticed that this morning I averaged 20 mph to Occoquan over 6.5 miles. I wondered if I was already getting a benefit.

In the past three weekends, I rode the Blue Ridge Ramble, Blue Knob Ski Resort, and a classic ride from Myersville, Md. to Pennsylvania and back, Happy Happy Pain Pain. I was feeling good.

And I was feeling great today.

Road bikes are designed for the road. And roads are usually straight with gradual curves and grades, Mount Washington being an exception. Not so much these bike paths. Unfortunately, bike paths are often squeezed into spaces where roads don’t fit. They fly up and over existing roadways or tunnel under highways. They can have steeper than normal grades and sharper turns.

I had followed the Washington & Old Dominion (W&OD) trail to the Custis Trail. The Custis Trail goes through Rosslyn in Arlington Co. then descends down to the Mount Vernon Trail. At this point I was 38 miles into my Bike To Work Day ride, I came upon this descent and let the bike roll. I was going 20 mph when I saw a sharp turn to the left. Overnight rains had left a gooey mess of mud and moss mixed in with some sand and gravel.

I used my rear brake to slow the bike for the curve ahead but the tire slid in the muck. I released the brake and leaned and steered the bike through the turn. My momentum took the bike through the curve and the wheels slipped out from under me.

I hit the asphalt real hard and went sliding across it until I came to a stop. I could feel road rash on my left thigh and could see it on my leg. One thing to be thankful for: shaved legs. Without hair ripping out more skin, the damage to my leg was relatively minor in comparison to the rest of my body.

I unclipped and saw the blood on my hand and could feel that my wrist hurt. A couple of riders came by and asked if I was hurt. I told them I was. They kept going.

I brushed myself off, poured water on my hand and legs to get most of the dirt off, then rode four more miles to work. More than half the time I held my arm like a broken wing and rode with one hand. It hurt to put the injured hand on the handlebars.

At work, I got some assistance in the Fitness Center in taking off my jersey and in cleaning up. I then went to my office (via elevator — this was the first day I didn’t take the stairs). I worked for about 15 minutes before deciding the emergency room visit was necessary.

Now I face the question of what’s next. Six weeks in a cast will take me to June 30. If I am off the bike until then there is no way I will have the fitness or climbing legs to make Mount Washington. I am really bummed right now.

Monday I go for a hard cast. I haven’t been told how serious the break is or if there is more than one. If I can ride a trainer during this time it won’t be the same as being on the road but there’s still a chance. My only chance now is to be able to ride a trainer…


Check out the elevation chart. There are no flats on this ride.

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Over a Mountain and Back in Time

EAST FREEDOM, PENNSYLVANIA

I parked in East Freedom, Blair Co., at the elementary school. It started out sunny and seemingly warmer than it was. I wore a jersey and arm warmers. I soon realized it was cooler than I thought with temperatures never climbing more than the mid-50s. I slipped on a jacket that was in my back pocket.

My route took me down the valley and around the base of Blue Knob. Blue Knob is both a State Park and ski resort. At 3,127 feet (953.1 meters) it is the second-highest peak in Pennsylvania, second only to Mount Davis in Somerset Co. (3,212 feet).

After 22.5 miles the climb began at Pavia. The Blair Bicycle Club listed the climb as almost five miles at 7%. They listed a 25% section which I did not find. But the distance was right and it was a nice climb. I think two cars passed me on the way up so “lightly traveled” might even be an understatement.

Blue Knob Ski Resort

It was a ghost town at the top if one building, a ski lodge, constitutes a town. If I needed a place to get more water or food and had counted on this, I would have been out of luck. Actually, I was counting on this but on this cool day, the two bottles on my bike were enough.

The descent from Blue Knob was a little scary. The first mile of the descent was steep and in horrible shape. There were many potholes and lots of loose gravel. The steepness necessitated riding the brakes but the gravel made it dangerous to use them.

The wind was blowing and it was cold — in the mid-40s, and I was still soaked with sweat from the climb. But after the first mile, the pavement improved. And once I reached Ski Gap Road it was a long straight 2-3% descent back down to Claysburg.

At Claysburg I had to return to East Freedom. But the road I was on, Bedford Street, was lightly traveled and in great shape. This would be a great place to live to ride. One can stay on the flat roads of the valley or head to the mountains.

And then the most surreal part of the ride. In East Freedom, I saw a man mowing his lawn. I first went by him then something said to turn around. I did and I caught his attention. I introduced myself and then told him “I used to live in this house.”

John Griffin immediately said “well you have to come in and see the house.” He proceeded to take me room by room while I was wondering “was this the house I lived in when I was three or was it the house next door?” But eventually, I figured out that it was the right house and gave him a little history to go along with what he gave me, namely, the house was built in 1910.

Afterward, it was a quick trip to Panera in Altoona for some refueling and lunch with a special cousin. This was an incredible day. It was a trip over a mountain and back in time.

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