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).
Fool that I am, I returned to Reston to ride with either The Bike Lane or Evolution Cycling. Perhaps because it was overcast, it seemed colder than last week and the numbers showed. They were way down.
Like last week, stopping for gas and food left me dangerously close to missing the start of the ride. I rolled up just as four riders were rolling out. One woman was left in front of the dark Bike Lane store telling me she was waiting for their group ride. Instantly I determined, correctly, that there would be no ride from The Bike Lane today and made my decision to catch the Evo boys leaving on the trail.
Although temperatures were in the low to mid-30s for most of the ride, the low overnight temperatures and some rain during the week left some ice patches on the W&OD. But they presented no problems.
What was neat was that we started out with five riders and actually picked up riders along the route eventually getting up to 10. We rode on the W&OD until we could get safely off onto other roads and streets.
Almost immediately I wondered why I had come back. We were in a paceline of 10 riders rolling along at 23 mph on a 3% uphill grade. There is no way, even by being paced, that I could keep this pace. I was afraid I might have to excuse myself. But we took turns pacing at the front and once the strong leader dropped off another rider took over and I didn’t have problems staying with the group again.
Out of Leesburg towards Hamilton, we climbed Dry Mill Road, in the process dropped a rider aptly named “Turtle.” At the top of the climb, where Virginia Routes 7 and 9 intersect, we waited. Eventually, Turtle came and then graciously announced that he would ride the trail back and not hold us up.
It was actually amazing that I jumped in with this racing team and hung with them. At the same time, one of their riders could not keep pace.
We headed out through Hamilton, out Harmony Church Road, and back towards Leesburg. I was able to hang on with these racers most of the way. Leaving Hamilton we could smell the fire from a fireplace burning nearby. One of the riders said, “it smells warm.”
I never thought something could smell warm — we’re mixing the sense of touch with the sense of smell — but I could agree with him. I’d love to be inside feeling the warmth of the fire.
The route today would encompass more than 60 miles. I noticed after 50 miles that when we had moderate climbs of 2-3% grade that I had difficulty keeping up with the group. Usually, I would drop 10, 20, or 50 meters behind only to catch them on the other side.
The Evolution is a Cycling Racing team, most are younger riders and these old legs just don’t have the recovery in them to be able to spin up these moderate climbs. The steep climbs are different because everyone is working hard but these lesser grades are ones where the younger riders can sit and spin and after 50 miles I have difficulty.
Maybe it’s the old legs or maybe it’s that I still suck at nutrition on the bike. I had one energy bar with me but didn’t open it. Stupid.
Without about five miles to go, I sat up for a moment while a couple of riders dropped off to go home. I lost contact with our remaining riders. Mostly they were never more than 100-200 meters ahead but that is still dropped.
I felt my energy level drop. I hadn’t eaten on the ride and should have and fumbled around to find the energy bar. I felt a little better after ingesting it and rolled on back alone to the start/finish.
Not sure where the rest of the winter takes me. I’d like to ride with Evolution more but every Saturday between now and mid-March is booked and then begins soccer season. I was asked to join the team and race with them but feel that I would probably bring them down.
I was feeling bad about not being able to stay with what was left with the group but Adam, back at The Bike Lane, reminded me that these are racers who log base miles every Saturday and Sunday plus are younger too. As I read in Bicycling magazine once, when you feel a little discouraged about not keeping up with the Cat 2 and Cat 3 riders, take a stroll in the Mall and compare yourself to those guys.
You say you want a revolution Well you know We all want to change the world You tell me that it’s evolution Well you know We all want to change the world But when you talk about destruction Don’t you know you can count me out –The Beetles
I didn’t ride on New Year’s Day, missing out on Potomac Pedaler’s “I’ve Ridden Every Day This Year” ride. It was cold and windy on New Year’s Day in the morning although not as bad as New Year’s Eve. We had winds sustained at 35 mph and gusting to 50 mph. My mailbox post was a victim. When I arrived home from work both the mailbox and post were on the ground so that became my New Year’s Day project.
I left the house this morning after 8:00 and WTOP Radio reported it was 23º (-5ºC) in Manassas. Cold. I drove up to Reston to ride with the group ride that leaves from The Bike Lane at Reston Town Center. I was running late and arrived at exactly 9:00 a.m.
I quickly parked in the parking garage and put the wheels on my bike. I rolled out of the garage at about three, maybe four, minutes after 9:00, turned the corner, and saw the group heading out. I rolled past The Bike Lane to catch the group. Funny, as I did I saw 3-4 bikes parked outside The Bike Lane.
I caught the group as we rolled through some bike paths out to the Washington and Old Dominion Trail. Adam (The Bike Lane group leader) normally doesn’t take the group on the WOD, I thought, but was willing to concede that either he decided on a cold winter Saturday it wouldn’t be crowded or this somehow was the wrong group.
Could there be two 9:00 rides leaving from The Bike Lane? Even if there were, it was too late to go back and find Adam. I hung on the back of the group — they were flying — and finally asked someone if this was Adam’s ride. No one seemed to know although there were no Bike Lane jerseys in this group. But lots of white ones.
I was told that I had joined the Evolution Cycling Club’s training ride but that I was welcome to hang on. And I did. I asked how far they were going and I was told — 80 miles. Yikes. It was a nice day, if 23º was “nice,” but I hadn’t brought any water (intending to fill up inside The Bike Lane) and no food. And no money for a stop at a store. It’s not good to ride that far with no nutrition. Oh well.
The ride was relatively easy as long as I was hanging on the rear. We went through Ashburn then to Leesburg. After Leesburg, we climbed our first long hill. It wasn’t that difficult but one learns the perils of hanging in the rear.
I wasn’t having any problems keeping on the wheel of the rider in front of me. But he was. A gap opened halfway up the hill and the first half of the group crested the hill a good 150 meters ahead of our group. In a race that’s when they attack but this wasn’t a race. Still, once we reached the top we had two separate groups out on the country roads. The gap widened more.
I finally broke free to pass a number of riders and tried to bridge to the front group. For a while, I was in “no man’s land” about 250 meters behind the lead group and 250 meters ahead of the trail group. I had no one working with me. After being stuck here a rider finally bridged to me and the two of us then worked out way up to the leaders.
We stopped at a store in Hamilton where some bladder-challenged riders, including me, made our way behind the store for a visit to some trees. Here we also broke the ride into groups and when we left there were nine of us. It was nine that we should have ended with.
We rode for a while longer until we came to a moderate climb. One of the riders, in the middle of what was supposed to be a paceline, was having difficulty climbing and we all passed him. When we crested he was way back and we waited for him at the light on Va. 9 at Paeonian Springs.
Our ride leader, a guy named “Chicken” then decided we would have some fun descending on Dry Mill Road to Leesburg. We would break into teams and try to box other riders out at high descending speeds — generally about 35 mph. Say what?
What the heck. We took off and formed our teams. We had only gone a couple of miles when we lost our trail rider again. Chicken went back for him and was going to show him the direct way back — the WOD. Chicken came back to us but reported that he couldn’t find him. I felt bad and was going to offer to ride with him but he had disappeared. We were down to eight.
We continued on and while descending, one of the guys in front of me went off the road. His tire hit the shoulder and three of us had to quickly maneuver so as not to join him. That also killed our descent. We regrouped, didn’t get any sprint points, and made it back to Leesburg.
Passing through Leesburg I was told Chicken peeled off although I didn’t see him. At a cross street, I saw another rider leave. And I missed another one bailing because we were down to five.
Another rider and I moved to the front and did a monster pull for about 3-4 miles. What was I doing pulling these 30-year-olds home? Eventually, we let the trail riders lead and we would follow their wheels.
The five of us returned to Reston and I got to go into The Bike Lane and told Adam why I wasn’t able to join him today. He just laughed. Unlike three weeks ago, I was able to hang and at least one other rider wasn’t.
I was told that the Evolution ride was a closed ride but no one on the ride took exception to me being there. In fact, many introduced themselves and went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. I don’t plan on racing because I don’t have time but I am thinking about joining this racing club. It was a great day for cycling!
I don’t get to write much about activities other than biking but this one deserves mention. Friday night before leaving for New York, I received an email from Danny Chew, race creator of the Dirty Dozen. He had just finished his summary of this year’s Dozen. He made a mention to me as a 53-year old rookie (he liked calling people rookies) from Virginia who broke his shift cable on the fourth hill. A little embarrassing I would say. I would have preferred to remain anonymous. Oh well, proof that I was there!
What used to be a YFU tradition later became a family tradition — a weekend trip to New York City at Christmas. My sister, Betsy, and her two daughters, Hannah and Emily, joined our family. We left the house shortly before 7:00 a.m. for a trip to Union Station where everyone believed they would be transferring to Metro to ride on Bolt Bus. Instead, I pulled out train tickets as a real surprise.
It was snowing as we approached the city and I was glad I wasn’t driving my 15-passenger van. Amtrak took us directly into the city to Penn Station. We dropped our luggage at the hotel and then made our way to Times Square. We saw Shrek (The Musical) on the TKTS board for half price and Ashley and I made our way to the front for tickets. Ashley was really excited to see Shrek and I wanted to as well. It was not everyone’s first choice, some wanted to see Phantom of the Opera, but that choice was made for us. Shrek was sold out so we got Phantom tickets instead.
Phantom is a Broadway classic. Now in it’s 21st year on Broadway (they hoped for three), Ashley and I agreed that it’s a show to be seen at least once. While we hoped for the laugh out loud funny Shrek, we weren’t disappointed to see Phantom.
Hannah, Emliy, Betsy, Ashley, Bryan, Cheri, Barry, Andrew
Cheri was excited because a woman she had taught in childbirth class was in the show. She got up before the show to try to pass a note to Rayanne Gonzales, one of the singers in the show. We would want to say hello to her afterwards. In the meantime, Bryan announced “after the show we are going backstage.” Bryan’s boss’ brother works in New York City and he has a good friend, Craig Jacobs, who is the stage manager for Phantom. It wasn’t quite six degrees of separation but almost.
After the show we were able to go on stage. We learned some “secrets” (can’t share or they wouldn’t be secrets) and then Ashley took to the stage to sing. She sang “Somewhere That’s Green” from Little Shop of Horrors. It was great. Craig said she has a beautiful voice. My nieces, Hannah and Emily, both dance and they took the opportunity to dance on stage as well. Ashley, Hannah, and Emily all can say they were on Broadway.
Note: Young Frankenstein closed May 31, 2012
In the evening we headed to the Hilton Theatre for Young Frankenstein. What a great show. But it opened in November 2007 and will be ending next month — only a 14-month run. Don’t know why — tickets were mostly hard to come by and the theater seemed to be full. But maybe it wasn’t. And according to the New York Times, it priced itself out of the market.
But we had a great weekend. No time on the bike but something a little different for a change.
EDIT/EPILOGUE – Danny Chew was paralyzed in an accident in 2016. He continues to ride now (2020) using a hand-cycle.
Some days you have it, some days you don’t. Today I didn’t.
It was cold but I wanted to ride. It’s easier if you commit to meeting people so I called Adam Lewandowski at The Bike Lane last night to see if they would be riding in the morning. He said they would. It seems silly to drive 45 minutes to join a group ride but that’s what I did. I pulled in just as they were departing and asked if they would wait for me. They did. There were eight of them.
It was 28º (-3º C) and I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my bike, and rolled up with them. I caught them outside the mini-skating rink at the Reston Town Center where two teams of 8-9-year-olds were playing ice hockey. Cute.
We rolled out and kept a good pace. Think about the guys that want to go riding when it’s below freezing. There aren’t too many recreational types here. Well, I was. I overheard one guy talking about his personal cycling coach. I didn’t quite understand that.
Still, we kept together for most of the ride but on one fairly long climb the pack pulled ahead of me by 50-100 meters and I couldn’t close the gap. I could catch them at the traffic lights but there were two places on the course of 30 miles (48 km) where my legs just weren’t keeping up. Disheartening.
It dawned on me that the night before around 9:00 p.m. that I did 40 minutes on the stepper machine. I mentioned that to Adam and he opined that would kill my legs for sure. I simply had no recovery at 9:00 a.m. in the cold. Whatever it was, I was the slowpoke today.
It doesn’t usually happen but we’ve all had those days — at least all of us who aren’t doping have had those days. It was cold. It was still fun, but a little disheartening.
In Beechview, they encountered the steepest street in Pittsburgh. Canton Avenue has a 37-percent graded incline, and it taunted the cyclists as they gasped for breath and their legs slowly pumped the pedals, knowing that they could now walk their bikes faster than they could ride them. Some did. Others fell. — Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, November 27, 2006
PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA
I’m not sure when or how I first found out about the Dirty Dozen but decided this was one of the “must-do” rides for me — perhaps another in my “Bucket List.” If the weather was good, I would go ride. It was 17° when I left Somerset, Pa. — good enough!
Danny Chew is a two time champion of the Race Across America and has dubbed himself the “Million Mile Man” in trying to ride one million miles in his life. In 1983, Dan, his brother Tom (a 1980 Olympian cyclist himself), and Bob Gottlieb “wanted to showcase Pittsburgh’s steepest and toughest hills in one ride.” They created a hill climb race that takes one more than 50 miles through Pittsburgh’s neighborhoods but never getting more than 10 kilometers away from the center of the city.
This is not a sanctioned race. It’s more like an illegal drag race — people know where and when and they show up. Since there has been newspaper coverage the public knows as well. As late as 2003 it went off with only eight racers. But the past two years’ participation exceeded 100 riders.
The race takes place the Saturday after Thanksgiving. There is no online registration. Just show up between 8:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. and pay $5.00. No release or liability forms. No race jerseys or T-shirts commemorating the event. And there are no race bibs or bike numbers. Danny knows the challengers versus we mere mortals who are just attempting to finish.
I left Somerset at 7:20 a.m. and it was cold. I expected that it would warm up, which it did — some. I arrived at the cycling track next to the police station in Highland Park in Pittsburgh at 8:50 a.m. and immediately registered. It was 28° although it was calm and sunny and seemed warmer.
Riders warming up in the parking lot
I went to register and met Danny Chew. He looked at me and said “You look like you’re over 50.” Nice. When I told him I was he responded that they had 12 riders last year over 50 as though 50 was the age of death.
But this clearly is a young man’s race. Or young women as they added a women’s race category as well. And there was a purse — $150 to the winner, $100 for second and $50 for third, at least for the women. I’m not sure if the men had a purse or if it was simply for pride.
At 10:00 a.m. or ten after 10, Danny came out and made announcements. There was no sense of urgency. He introduced some race marshals (riders with orange vests) and gave instructions for crossing the busiest of the highways. Basically, stay together and we can cross against the traffic lights — unless a cop is sitting there. Then we better stop.
Danny would record the top finishers at each hill. If he didn’t call out your name, shout it out for him. They wait for everyone to finish each climb before moving on to the next hill. A no-drop ride. Maybe most important, if you don’t belong at the front don’t go there.
Danny went on and explained how important it was to stay together and how the race was neutralized between the hills. He did say if someone couldn’t keep up maybe this wasn’t the race for them. He left us with this final thought: We can’t wait for anyone who has a flat tire (uh, make that any mechanical) unless they are in the Top Ten. However, if it’s one of the top ten challengers then the race should stop and wait for them.
So they had two sets of rules, one for challengers and one for mortals. Oh, well, it’s Danny’s race and it is for fun. He just lets the rest of us hang on the rear.
Danny had announced a record turnout, more than 140 riders, and I was near the back of them. I wasn’t going to go to the front and challenge for the hill climbs. At each hill the course marshal was to blow a whistle to signify the start of the race up the hill.
We rode neutral across the Allegheny River to Aspinwall and headed up the first hill. I heard the whistle but even then I was in the pack a good three blocks behind the leaders. Even if I wanted to challenge I was so far back that I didn’t have a chance.
We started the climb. I checked the grade and it was 10%, 12%, 15%, then 18%. It kept going and going. It would be a one-mile climb. A few people were out of their homes to cheer us. I imagine they all appreciate the effort to get up that hill. I passed some cyclists dismounting and one who had already turned around and was apparently done for the day.
Already my mind was telling me I hadn’t ridden as much as I should have in the Fall and maybe I should stop. But one forum writer perhaps stated it best by writing that you keep pedaling because everyone else is. In some ways, it is easier in a group because you do feed off each other. I hung in there, kept my pace, and made it to the top. I was probably ahead of 20% of the riders.
We waited at the top until the last riders made it up and then took off to the next climb in Sharpsburg. I never heard a start whistle for the second hill. I was just in a pack which was probably too spread out. This hill too was very long and about as steep. It ended between two cemeteries at the top. Sweet. Again, I was near the back on the climb and I thought at one point that I was the last rider — anyone still behind me had dismounted at this point and was walking.
But it was another 5-10 minutes before we were ready to move on so there may have been some real stragglers. It must be nice for Danny to have started this race 25 years ago and watch it grow but watching it grow also presented some organizing dilemmas including whether they want to include everyone or just elite hill climbers.
We took off again and rode perhaps three miles before a nice descent. Here I let it out and was passing a number of people on the descent. It was a technical descent with a few curves and many were uncomfortable letting it roll that fast. I looked down and saw that I was going 41 mph and then I looked up. Oh crap! In about 25 meters we were crossing Sharpsburg road, blowing through a stop sign (road protected by riders/marshals), and immediately climbing a steep hill.
I can downshift the rear derailleur while climbing but it’s not so easy on the front derailleur because that requires letting up a bit on the pedals. I immediately downshifted the front ring to start climbing but don’t know what happened next. I hit the hill about the same time a guy in front of me was bailing out and falling. I went about 25 meters and had no power. My rear gears hadn’t changed. I hoped to be able to unclip before I fell and I was successful. I dismounted.
I looked at the rear derailleur and it looked like it was bent backwards. I wasn’t sure what happened but lifted the bike and tried to change the gears manually. I even grabbed the chain and moved it to a bigger sprocket. It went back to the low gear — my 12 tooth small gear (hardest to pedal — damn hard to pedal).
The hill was steep but not that long and I decided I would walk the bike to the top. I reached the top and hoped that someone would see me messing with the gears, and perhaps they did, but no one offered to help and I didn’t ask for any. Whatever was wrong, I couldn’t fix. I was stuck in the 12 tooth gear.
Pushing a bike with a broken derailleur. Credit: Chris Popovic
As we rolled out I started last as we moved to Hill #4. Even on the slightest grades and I had to stand to pedal, not having any of my easier gears to pedal. Still, I caught some poor schmoe who appeared to be the only person in the race with more than 10% body fat. He was struggling.
At an intersection protected by an unofficial marshal I explained to him my derailleur was stuck. He said “we” (which I hoped meant “he”) could look at it before the next hill and then encouraged us to pick up the pace. He took off and I followed, leaving behind the solo rider.
We (meaning the marshal and me but not the other rider) caught the peloton in Etna in time for Hill #4. I went one block then turned around to remind the marshal of his promise. A photographer was there and he looked and said simply the cable had slipped. But when he went to pull slack from the cable to tighten it up, the entire cable came through the housing. The cable was sheered off. There was no way to switch gears. I was toast.
As the group was already climbing on the hill I had a matter of a few seconds I had to decide to continue or abandon. Keeping with the group in the neutral sections would be no problem but clearly I couldn’t do the hill climbs, which was, after all, the purpose of the Dirty Dozen. I even thought about walking the climbs just to complete the course.
But I realized my day was done. If I was a professional this type of “mechanical” (failure) would be no problem. The team car would be behind me and simply hand me a new bike and I would keep riding. But at the recreational level, a mechanical will end your day and it ended mine.
I was probably no more than three miles from the start although we had ridden 15 at that point. I found the 62nd Street Bridge and crossed the Allegheny River and followed signs back to the cycling track where I was parked.
I arrived and rode on the cycling track just to let out some frustration. It was a nice day, high 30s and sunny so I thought I would ride something different.
As I was leaving I saw two other riders coming back in. They explained that the one rider had flatted (a blowout which we all thought was a gun shot) and by the time it was fixed they couldn’t catch the group. And they didn’t know the route. But they were trying to catch their bearings and go backwards and catch the group later.
I had no such option. Forward or backward, I couldn’t ride the course. My Dirty Dozen turned into a Disappointing Dozen. Of three (hills).
Canton Ave., Pittsburgh. Credit: Chris Popovic
I was disappointed but I can ride the course anytime I want, as long as I am willing to drive to Pittsburgh. It was fun, I hope to do it again and make it without any mechanical problems.
Don’t expect to find this race well publicized. Plan on the first Saturday after Thanksgiving but do an Internet search a few weeks prior to try and confirm.
Maybe the best source are the forums at Bike-Pgh.org
The starting location 1401 Washington Blvd., Pittsburgh PA
Washington Blvd is also known as the Blue Belt and is also Pa. Rte 8
The Washington Blvd Cycling Track is a former Pennsylvania State Police Driver’s License course
Epilogue:
My disappointment with not being able to finish because of a broken derailleur cable became real only when I went to Chris Popovic’s Picasa site and viewed more than 500 photos of the event. I really wanted to complete what I started and will have to do it solo or make plans for 2009. The picture of me walking and the photo of Canton Ave. are from his photos.
For most of the early Fall, I could not join a group ride on the weekends. Every Saturday I had refereeing, either mentoring/observing or attending clinics. I refereed travel games more this Fall than in the past so my Sundays were shot too.
Yesterday was a teaching day but today was wide open. Next weekend is the NVSC Fall Classic tournament and my referee assignments are from 8 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. on each day. If I could get a group ride in it would have to be today.
I left the house at 8:30 to gas up, intending to head out to Middleburg for a ride in Loudoun County. The wind was shaking the van and I hadn’t confirmed with the ride leader. I was unsure whether once I got to Middleburg there would even be a ride. I filled up the tank ($1.779 per gallon) and then went home knowing there was another ride a little later and a little closer.
After getting home I got the information for the Mason Neck Meander. It was described as a leisurely ride through the Mason Neck area and surrounding neighborhoods, with only a few climbs. It was rated a “C” which is slower than I normally ride but you can’t always find the perfect group.
We met at 11:00 a.m. at Gunston Elementary School. Temperatures were in the low to mid 40s and winds were gusting to 30 mph. The trip leader looked at me and said “you look like you ride faster than us so if you want to go ahead you can.” I’d rather not.
Some people enjoy following cue sheets while I would prefer not to. I don’t mind pulling (being the leader) if someone is behind me navigating.
There were six of us. I slipped in behind the leader and followed at second wheel for about eight miles. He then pulled over and three of us went ahead using our cue sheets. The route was a nice ride. It is mostly flat and in heavy woods. A lot of the road were covered in leaves. For much of the route we were next to the Potomac River, or next to homes that were next to the Potomac.
We followed a route that took us through the neighborhoods before taking us into Mason Neck Park. The three of us were ready to leave the park after a short restroom break when the trailing three joined us. We left together with eight miles back to the start of a 21-mile ride.
As I was leading I looked behind me to see who was on my wheel. To my surprise, no one was. I was riding a bit too fast for them to hang on and this was in the flat in the park. I was by myself in the “lead.” I would have to solo home to “victory.”
The last seven miles had some climbs and was all wind. The wind was strong and in my face. I had no help. I just kept working, into the wind. The wind was so strong that I could not hear cars approaching from the rear. Sometimes I thought there was a car behind me and it was just the wind. Other times the wind was so strong I never heard a car coming.
Once I had soloed for about four miles I took a peek. I couldn’t see anyone. I kept going, even as I was picking up the pace. I arrived back but forgot to celebrate as I was first across the line.
I probably then violated the unwritten rule of group rides. It’s OK to solo ahead, even to victory, but one should wait and say goodbye at the end. Be nice and say thanks to the leader for organizing the ride. But I looked back, there was no one anywhere in sight, and football was starting in 22 minutes.
For a day, a cold and windy day, my breakaway worked.
The 1979 movie, Breaking Away, won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. Almost all avid cyclists know the movie. It is set in Bloomington, Indiana, the home of Indiana University. I’m not going to give a lengthy review here. Check it out at Wikipedia.
At least in the movie, the locals were called “cutters” by the more well-do-to-out-of-town students because many of their fathers worked in the limestone quarries. Each year I.U. is home to a “500” race, similar to the one in Indianapolis — the Indianapolis 500. This is a bike race, the “Little 500.”
When on travel I try to find a local bike shop and rent a bike. I didn’t see that with this trip I had time. Normally I would be writing about my ride in Bloomington. But there would be no ride.
I was with a management recruiting team visiting I.U. for a career fair. We didn’t arrive in Indianapolis until after 6:00 p.m. and had to drive to Bloomington. It was well after dark on Wednesday when we got to our hotel. Thursday was spent on the campus of I.U. — a gorgeous campus I might add.
I am a family historian and in January I had “met” a fifth cousin (twice removed at that), who lived in Bloomington. I contacted him and we agreed to meet that evening for dinner. There would be no time to ride. I was to fly out the next morning.
During lunch Thursday I sat with some staffers at I.U. We talked about a lot of things but they perked up when they realized that I knew “Cutters.” I soon discovered that the race locally is called the “Little 5” and the movie is somewhat akin to what Groundhog Day is to Punxsutawney, Pa. There was a lot more interest in the Little 5 ever since the movie.
Not able to ride, I simply wanted to leave with a Cutters shirt. I had no clue where to look and tried the college. They didn’t sell them. But one person said to try “Greetings.” I didn’t know Greetings but remembered that.
Then a second person mentioned Greetings and then a third. So that was it.
Peter Jenkins in his book, “A Walk Across America” mentioned that if three separate people all recommended the same place then he must find it. So it was with Greetings.
I put Greetings in the GPS Unit and found the store on Kirkwood Street. I walked in and found my Cutters shirt. $7.95. There still are bargains in America.
When I met Lee Lawmaster, my 5th cousin, that night the first thing I showed him was my Cutters shirt. I think he was pleased I liked the town.
I didn’t ride but I got the next best thing. A Cutters shirt.
EPILOGUE — When I returned home I wore the Cutters shirt. Some people asked me what it meant, some wouldn’t ask, but some knew — “Hey, Cutters, from Breaking Away. That is really cool!”
I’ve been off the bike for a while. During the Blue Ridge Extreme I thought I had a problem with my rear wheel as it was rubbing on the brake. I had been riding for 50 miles of climbing (and descending) with the brakes on. I concluded the wheel was out of true.
I took it to my local bike shop and discovered the wheel wasn’t out of true but that the rim was cracked. Yikes!. Trek has a five-year warranty so it was covered but I was without the bike for a week and missed the Potomac Pedalers Century which I hoped would be my last long ride of the summer.
I picked up my bike on Monday and was able to ride Tuesday which felt great. I then left for San Francisco on Wednesday hoping to make the highlight of my trip a bike ride. (Don’t tell my bosses.)
Needing to rent a bike, I settled on Bike and Roll at Columbus and Lombard Streets. I was fitted, well not really fitted, for a Trek 1500 road bike. Not fitted because the seat was too high. Three times I asked that it be lowered one inch and three times it was lowered about 1/8″. Finally, I accepted it and rode away.
I was at the corner of Lombard Street, the famous crookedest street in the world. I looked up and could see the street calling me. I didn’t have my Garmin Edge with me so I can only guess at percent grade. It was about a half-block climb up to and across Taylor Street. I would guess that was about a 10% grade. The second block was an honest long city block up to Jones Street. I would guess it kicked up to 15-18%. After Jones Street, it is still steeper up to Leavenworth. I read it was 27% but have no way of confirming that. It sure felt like it though.
I didn’t know the bike and just put it in the lowest gear possible. I struggled to keep going and thought I would have to abandon before reaching the top. I didn’t look up but kept the eyes focused on the front wheel. Breathing heavy and loud was my sign to the tourists standing at the base of the crooked part of the street to move out of my way when I got to Leavenworth. I don’t remember ever breathing so hard. It was a short climb but very steep. I made it then stopped to survey the view.
Beautiful. To my right, an extension of Leavenworth Street, one could see the San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz Island and prison. It was a warm fall day, about 75°.
I made my way over to the Presidio. While leaving the Presidio, I passed a pet cemetery which was so neat I had to go back and take a picture.
Presidio Pet Cemetery
Leaving the Presidio I descended to the water level of the bay but then had to climb a hill up to the Golden Gate Bridge. I was surprised at first by the number of people walking their bikes but then it made sense. Most bikers were tourists who probably seldom ride and couldn’t resist the temptation to “Bike the Bridge.” I easily passed lots of riders here.
The bridge was crowded with walkers, many walking two and three abreast oblivious to people trying to pass on bikes. Even the families that were biking were trying to ride two abreast at a very slow speed. One just needed patience and to pick your spots to get through.
On the bridge, I noticed cyclists coming from Marin Co. were dressed in cold weather gear complete with long finger gloves, jackets, and leg warmers. I began to regret leaving my jacket and arm warmers in the car.
It was cool, if not cold, on the bridge. I would guess the temperature was in the mid 50s. But in a matter of 200 meters or so, from the end of the bridge into Marin Co., I would guess the temperature jumped 20 degrees. It went from 55° to 75°.
At the end of the bridge is the entrance to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area which climbs a steep hill and provides a wonderful view of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco, as well as the Pacific Ocean.
I began climbing on my bike with its too-high seat. I didn’t see any other riders here. I was right that almost all riders were interested in biking across the bridge but climbing a one or two-mile hill was not for them.
I was near the top, pedaling my own rhythm when out of nowhere a young lady passed me. I hate that. Everyone is better than someone and everyone can find others who are better than they are. And I was on a rental bike with a hideous saddle bag on the front and uncomfortable at that. Plus I had climbed up Lombard Street.
Who knows where she came from but she certainly looked comfortable. We exchanged pleasantries and I settled in about 10 meters behind her. That was about where she was when I realized she had passed me. She was out of the saddle and I was in. I maintained that distance for a while and then decided to match her tempo out of the saddle. Once I did she began to pull away. I was actually riding better in the saddle than out although being out of the saddle was a little easier on the legs.
When I reached the top I wanted to keep going but I had to stop. The view back to San Francisco was just too great to pass up. I only had my cell phone but still wanted to snap a couple of pictures.
San Francisco through the lens of a flip phone
Here began a dangerous one-lane road down towards the Pacific. I took it. It was one of the scariest roads I have ridden. One lane, steep in sections, and only a guard rail preventing me from going over a cliff down to the rocky ocean coast, maybe 100 meters below. On my Trek Pilot, I would have sat back and bombed the descent but I was not comfortable on this bike. I felt my butt was too high which is scary while descending on a steep oceanfront road with many sharp curves.
I came to the bottom and stood over the ocean. It was absolutely beautiful!
I wondered how I would get back and what climb I would have to get back up to the top of the hill I just descended. I took Bunker Road back and had a 3-4% climb but nothing big. Then I came to a tunnel. That was a surprise. A very pleasant surprise.
The tunnel was one lane and I waited at a traffic signal (five-minute delay) until it was time to enter. There is a bike lane on either side and cyclists are to stop, press a button, which illuminates a flashing light “Bicyclist in Tunnel.”
At the end, I found my way to Sausalito up to Mill Valley then turned around. I went back to Sausalito, waited for the ferry, then headed back to San Francisco. A highlight of a bike trip in San Francisco is a ferry ride across the bay. It was back to the Embarcadero and another mile ride back to Bike and Roll.
I had enough. I probably rode 25 miles but my back and shoulders were aching from a bike that wasn’t fit very well. But it was a great day! I hope to get back and do it again. Soon.
What a weird group ride today. I must say it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was advertised as a 48-mile “follow the leader” ride. Instead of everyone having a cue sheet and eventually riding their own pace, this one forced everyone to follow the leader.
I showed up at the school near Culpeper and looked at the riders. I thought I was much too strong. To be fair, the ride was classified as a “CC” ride (12-14 mph) which is slower than my normal pace. But it was the only one I could find on this Labor Day weekend. I figured I would work on keeping my speed slow and my cadence high.
There was one guy pretty overweight (kudos for riding and trying to shed pounds) and another who smoked before, after, and during breaks. I did not see him smoke on the ride though.
The trip leader announced that he had forgotten his riding shoes. No one had a wrench to remove his pedals so he couldn’t go with us. The designated leader had been only been on parts of the ride before. The “sweep” made it be known we would have to wait for him.
There were no hills of note on the route but there were plenty of “rollers” here in the Piedmont. We crossed numerous streams and had an excellent view of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Throughout the day when we came to any of the hills, I found myself going off the front and banging up the hills. I would sometimes sit up on the descent to let others catch me and sometimes just got in my tuck and enjoyed the speed. Top speed: 40 mph.
Often the best conversation starter on a group ride is a great jersey. And none is better than my Newton’s Revenge jersey. Maybe not surprisingly, no one, and there were 11 of us, ever mentioned it. But when I wear the jersey I hope it gives me wings to fly up the hills. I owe that much to the jersey.
In the early part of the ride, the group stayed together. But as they got tired, or as we got tired going at a slow pace and picked it up at the front, huge gaps began to develop. So that no one got lost, at every turn someone would have to wait at each intersection for the end of the group. Usually, I would stop and wait, sometimes up to five minutes.
Once everyone safely made the turn I would bridge back to the front, often with the leaders more than a mile ahead at that point. That made taking what was a slow-paced ride very enjoyable by giving me my own challenge of bridging through the group.
Our first rest stop was at a country store. One man was cooking BBQ — the ribs and chicken looked and smelled delicious. If I hadn’t been on a bike I would have loved to have bought something to eat then or take home. As we finished our break, we were warned of a very bad hill ahead. “It is a mile long.”
Whoa. A mile hill. I almost pointed to my jersey and said, “Now this is a hill!” But I didn’t. I just let my climbing do the talking. And if climbing Mount Washington doesn’t give one inspiration for any climb, last week our first major climb at the Blue Ridge Extreme was 18 miles. I had no problem zipping to the top. It was 0.7 mile.
For one day, one ride, everyone was looking at this old guy as the leader. Every hill, and every flat, remember, I bridged the group throughout the day, I was the one who went through the group to the front. I will claim only second fastest on the descent though as one rider was on a recumbent and he had the aero advantage, and probably 50 pounds too. We rode together a few weeks earlier on a ride out of Nokesville and he and I finished “first” on the day, out of about 30 riders. We would finish 1-2 again today, with me being the first back to the school.
I am reminded to something Phil Gaimon wrote a few weeks earlier. When he won a local crit in New York, he angered a number of folks when he wrote that he didn’t beat anyone, meaning the top pros weren’t in the race. When he won the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hill Climb two weeks ago he more carefully wrote that the big boys were in Utah and the guys he beat all had families, 9-5 jobs, rode tandems, and were in age from 9-75. He was being humble for winning but recognized that his best competition wasn’t there.
There are just too many events that I registered for where my competition is the big boys. The people I rode with today don’t compete in the hill climb up Mount Washington or the Blue Ridge Extreme Century. One young lady was looking forward to her first metric century (63 miles). On a hybrid bike.
Too many times I am comparing my finishes to the Phil Gaimon’s and the college boys who smoke these events. I am both relieved and excited at finishing while being disappointed that my times often are in the bottom 25% or even 10%.
Every once in awhile a ride with a lesser group, CC in this case, is good for the ego. I do get dropped occasionally if the boys at Hains Point put the hammer down. They ride an A pace and I can barely keep up but do manage most of the time. But if they want to drop me, they can.
I am reminded what was published in Bicycling about magazine in Jan/Feb 2008 (page 48) about getting discouraged. “When you feel like your fitness has a long way to go, stop comparing yourself with other cyclists. Go to the mall and compare yourself with other Americans. You feel better now, right?“
I spend way too much time being disappointed I am near the last of the finishers up Mount Washington or across the Blue Ridge. But today’s ride also reminds me that compared to most Americans, and even most other cyclists, I sometimes can be the Alpha Male. At least for a day.
I had to come back. It was that simple. Wintergreen was the location of perhaps my worst ride ever, last year, when I severely bonked riding the 100 mile course which included 11,000 vertical feet of climbing. I cramped going up Vesuvius and again at Reed’s Gap. When it came to taking on the right nutrition for an event like this, I sucked.
It was so bad that when I attempted to ride up Reed’s Gap the EMTs pulled me off my bike and made me rest. They offered to give me a ride in the SAG wagon but I refused.
It’s not so much that I like to suffer but it’s a rewarding feeling to overcome suffering. Still, a 100-mile ride might be more fun without it. Those guys that go 100 miles in four or five hours miss out on half the fun.
And if climbing 11,000 vertical feet (more than two miles in height) wasn’t enough, the organizers decided to make it harder. They added another 2,000′. But I knew I had to come try it again. This time I would taper the week before instead of doing a hard ride the day before.
I was smart on Friday when I rode with DC Velo at Hains Point. After the second lap when the big boys put down the hammer I decided not to chase. I knew I would be riding Blue Ridge and it would be foolish to try to keep up. I was glad to see some other riders also not to go, including a triathlete. We kept a reasonable pace and rode another lap together. But I did have my referee physical test Friday night and ran my best distance ever for the 12-minute run. Still, I was hoping my hard workout Friday night would have no effect. I may have been wrong.
This year was different from last year’s Blue Ridge Extreme. Rather than one start/finish location at the Afton Inn, this featured a start down in the valley near Beech Grove, about a mile above the Ski Barn. The finish was at Wintergreen Resort. Depending on where you parked, you might have to pedal by your vehicle on the way to the mountain top finish line.
We started with a mass start at a couple minutes past 8:00 a.m. It was a nice 2-3% downhill for a mile to the Ski Barn before turning and heading out towards Crabtree Falls and the climb up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. I didn’t think I had the legs today and wondered about that stupid referee fitness exam I ran Friday night.
On the climb to Crabtree Falls and Montebello I saw a woman wearing shorts that stated “I climbed the Rock Pile.” That made for instant conversation. She didn’t have a name on her bib and I never asked her. But we talked about Mount Washington. She and her riding partner climbed it last week. She climbed it in two hours. I would say that was Diana Horvat, based on published results at Mount Washington.
We were soon joined by Michael Taylor and a friend of his, Jonathan Levine. Michael occasionally plays Ultimate with me on the Mall. While they stayed together 100% of the time, I would join them off and on throughout the ride.
The ride up to the Parkway was work but fun. It was about an 18-mile climb. I never faltered and pedaled right up, passing many people who had pulled over to rest.
I was conscious to drink a lot to combat cramping. On the day I went through 10 bottles of water and five of Elixir or Heed, depending on whether I mixed it or took what was at the water stops. Still, I don’t think it was enough. Add in two Power Bars, 13 Clif Bars (mini), three bananas and one would think I would be plenty fueled.
I rode solo most of the day. It seems my pace was in between those people I wanted to ride with or I was a third wheel. I didn’t appear to have any problems and enjoyed the ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway which went north from Crabtree Falls (or whatever the gap there is called). We turned off and headed down towards Sherando.
I bombed the descent, hitting 46 mph in one stretch and passing a group of strong riders. But I pulled over for a mechanical. My back wheel never felt right. It seemed to be rubbing on the brake and I eventually just opened up the calipers. Who needs brakes when you’re climbing so much?
Although my brake may have been rubbing and that made it a bit harder for 60 miles, I thought I was ready to tackle the climb at Vesuvius.
At first, I felt good on the climb. And just like the other side of the mountain, four hours earlier, I motored on up the climb. For a while. I passed a number of people walking and I kept going. But it was getting harder. As I stood and got out of the saddle, I was really dragging. Or the bike was really dragging. My front tire was flat.
As long as I was in the saddle and my weight was back, it was OK, or so it seemed. I’m sure even then it wasn’t. But out of the saddle, forget it. It probably took me 40-50% more energy to move the bike with a flat. It wasn’t completely flat, but very low. When I stood I could feel and hear the tire pressing against the rim.
Maybe it was the extra energy caused by the flat or maybe it’s because I suck, but I was about a mile from the summit when I felt the first twinge in the hamstring. Then the second hamstring. Then the quadriceps. I was cramping. Damn! I dismounted. I walked for a little bit before getting back on and finishing the ride to the summit.
At the top I made a very stupid decision. I was running a hard case tire to prevent flats, and they give me fits when I try to change them out. I didn’t want to take too much time changing the tire because I had a time cutoff to make back to the Ski Barn. I simply asked for the tire to be pumped up. I hoped that just by pumping it up it would hold enough to get me to the next rest stop. And the next.
I should have taken the time to do a complete tube change. You don’t think well when you are tired.
It worked for a few minutes but I soon felt I was riding low on the front tire. Stupidly, it did not prevent me from absolutely bombing the curved descents down past Crabtree Falls. I passed Jonathan and bridged up to Michael.
Michael and I rode together for a while and I even did my share of pulling when I finally told him I wasn’t going to make it. The tire was flat again. I limped to the next rest stop. The riders trailing by 2-3 minutes went flying by as a volunteer put more air in the tire. He was not equipped to make a quick change and neither was I.
With a full tire, I headed off to the Ski Barn with one last climb and descent before reaching the Ski Barn. The tire was failing again and this time I just hoped the SAG vehicle would come by and I would call it a day. I had ridden on a flat tire for more than 25 miles and it took its effect on me. I was beat.
The SAG vehicle, which seemingly had been circling like a shark ready to attack the past 45 minutes, was now nowhere to be found. I gutted it out and made it to the Ski Barn. At this point, I knew not many people were left behind me. I was surprised when I turned the corner and saw a lot of riders still hanging at the rest stop, waiting for the climb to the finish. I limped in on a flat tire and a rider said he could fix it in five minutes. And he did. I regret not finding out his name.
I mentioned to him that I flew down the mountain, trying to keep my weight on my back wheel. He told me that my biggest risk was not in a blow out due to an overheated tire but that the tire itself would roll under itself in one of the turns and come off the rim. Oops. I guess I was lucky because I hit speeds of 40 mph.
I was near exhaustion having ridden so long on a flat and had already decided to call it a day. Completing what you start is one thing; doing it while hurting your body is another. Rather than finish at the mountaintop, I decided long ago that I would simply bail out at the car when I passed the field where we parked at the start.
But the new inflated tire gave me new life and I rode with Michael and Jonathan for a while even passing the field where I was parked. Jonathan suggested I could go two miles past the car then turn back rather than ride the final four miles to the finish. That way, I would still get in my century ride.
That sounded good to me. I thought about going farther with them as well but really was spent. I don’t know how much extra energy I used riding on that flat but knew I already worked harder than anyone on the day. So I rode with them until I reached the two-mile point and then turned around and went back to the car. I told them to report to the organizers that Bib 321 went home. Check me off course, no need to send out the search crews looking for me.
The climb up to Wintergreen was steep, but not as steep as Reed’s Gap last year. I was happy they replaced Reed’s Gap with the Wintergreen climb. At the parking lot before the start, I heard one rider state she was going to return only to the parking lot. She was riding the half-metric (30 miles). One guy told her she needed to climb to Wintergreen and she said “Oh, no, I drove up there.” He said, “going in a car will make you sick — on a bike it’s OK.”
But I didn’t need one final climb. I knew it would be a decision I would have to live with. I really didn’t mind having a DNF by my name. It’s not a race and I really didn’t need to finish off punishing my body just to say that I did. Plus I did it before. And one hour, one day, and one year later I would have to be OK with. And I was.
There are a number of factors that would have gotten me to the top.
Had I parked at Wintergreen and took the shuttle to the start — my car would have been at the top waiting for me
Had I wanted to experience a mountaintop finish. But having made it to Mt. Washington this year, nothing else compares.
Had one of my riding partners been struggling and needed support from this rider, I would have stayed with them. But they were fine. In fact, on my descent to the parking lot I eyed up the last of the riders still climbing to see if I should ride with them. But they were fine and didn’t need the support of this old rider to help them.
I wanted to better last year’s time despite the organizers adding 2,000 more vertical feet of climbing. I wasn’t going to do it. As we started the climb I was already on last year’s time so there was no way I could lower my time. If I still had a chance I would have gone for it but those 25 miles riding flat killed my chances.
Had this been a stage race where one must finish to ride again
Last year’s gift was a shot glass or beer mug imprinted with Blue Ridge Challenge. I was offered one and told them to keep it. This year they offered them for sale too so I assume that was the finishing line prize. No thanks. On the other hand, if, like, Newton’s Revenge they had a ribbon/medal and an embroidered blanket for the finishers, well nothing would have stopped me.
So, it was fun but I don’t see myself wanting to do this ride a third time. I would like to use Reed’s Gap and Vesuvius as training rides in preparation for another try at Mt. Washington but don’t need to spend $70 for another supported ride.
I have a time listed on the official site behind Michael and Jonathan at 9:23. I have no clue as to my real time. At 4:15 p.m. (8:15 running clock) I was at the Ski Barn with five miles to the summit. Did it take us an hour to the summit? More confusing was one rider who was with us at the Ski Barn and is listed as having finished under seven hours. At the 7:00 mark she was climbing Vesuvius. Oh well. It’s not a race but a ride and one few people are willing to undertake.
Did I finish what I started? Well, yes and no. Fighting Father Time is one thing. Few of us improve physically after 30. Yes, if you’ve never done anything athletic one can certainly be better later in life. But I was always reasonably fit. Still, I do see remarkable fitness in those guys, in their mid to late 50s, who have retired, and all they do is ride. Most of them signed up for the Mount Washington Hill Climb. I didn’t see many people older than me on this ride. Fighting gravity is another. Having climbed Mount Washington and having run the best referee fitness test, I am thinking I am about at peak fitness. I can’t believe sometimes the muscular form in my legs. So I hoped that even by adding 2,000′ more vertical climb that I could better last year’s time.
Yes, the flat slowed me down and took a lot out of me. But even before I noticed, I wasn’t on record pace. Perhaps if I rode with a group I would have done better. It takes 30% more energy to ride solo than to ride behind someone. But I’m not sure how much that matters when one is climbing or descending and a lot of the course is just that.
So I’m pleased with where I am. I’m not going to win any races but I want to maintain a healthy lifestyle and remain fit. Even if I am near the end of the pack, I still get out and do it, and that’s what’s important. At least that’s what I am going to tell myself.
EPILOGUE: A few weeks after the Blue Ridge Extreme Challenge I took my bike to The Bike Lane to get the rear wheel trued. To my amazement, they told me that the wheel wasn’t out of true but the rim was cracked. I am both lucky to have hit speeds of 40 mph on those technical descents without having the wheel break a spoke and also satisfied that I really had to overcome pedaling on a flat front tire for 20 miles with a cracked back wheel.
EDIT – The Blue Ridge Extreme Century was canceled for 2009 and never returned.
