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).
Sitting in the auditorium at South County H.S. in Lorton, Va., yesterday at our annual high school soccer referee clinic, I kept looking outside wanting to ride instead. It was unseasonably warm (low 60s — 16ºC) and I hadn’t ridden in more than three weeks. Following the Steelers on their run to the Super Bowl was worth it all though.
Although there were rides listed on the Potomac Pedalers site, I trekked up to Reston to ride with Evolution Cycling Team. One thing that was different about today — I was on time. So rather than jump on the rear, I actually asked if I could ride with them. One warned me they ride at an A pace — or something like that. I nodded.
There were six of them and one of me. We headed out towards Great Falls. On the way, we were on a lightly traveled road and they wanted to ride a paceline. That was my first time in a true paceline. My summer rides with DC Velo is more me hanging on the back but this was a single paceline, all moving up in unison then falling off. The riders were gracious to this old rookie.
Once we got to Great Falls we broke apart a little. There were some steep descents and steep climbs. The one woman in the group, Tanya, had a hard time matching pace, especially on the descents. But she was a strong rider. Maybe not quite as strong as the others.
Then Tanya was already behind the 8-ball for the next climb. As long as they were waiting for her I could hang in there.
Eventually, I sensed they wanted to go faster without Tanya and without me. But they would never suggest that. She told me she didn’t have legs going out or back today and I felt I didn’t either. Although I’d been riding indoors, it’s not the same as being out on the bike.
We were near the end when Tanya and I headed over to the W&OD trail and let the others go flying on without us. It was a good ride but I wonder why I think I can ride with the guys 20 years (or more) younger than me.
Garmin Stats (note that I forgot to start the computer at the start)
An unexpected trip had me at the Super Bowl on Sunday. Thoughts of working the Amgen Tour of California disappeared beneath the excitement of the Steelers 27-23 victory in what some experts proclaimed the greatest Super Bowl ever.
Getting back to earth, I am looking forward to working the Tour. I will be a course marshal on two stages. The rosters were just announced. How about these names?
Lance Armstrong, Levi Leipheimer, Christopher Horner, Yaroslav Popovych, José Luis Rubiera, Andy Schleck, Fränk Schleck, Fabian Cancellara, Jens Voigt, Stuart O’Grady, George Hincapie, Mark Cavendish, Kim Kirchen, Michael Rogers, Christian Vande Velde, Thomas Danielson, Danny Pate, David Zabriskie, Tom Boonen, Oscar Freire, Ivan Basso, Cyril Dessel, Carlos Sastre, Thor Hushovd, Alexandre Moos, Floyd Landis, Rory Sutherland, Ben Jacques-Maynes, Kirk O’Bee, Anthony Colby, Phillip Gaimon, Oscar Sevilla, Tyler Hamilton, Victor Hugo Pena, and Freddy Rodriguez.
You’ve probably heard of Lance. Probably Levi and most of these guys. But how about Anthony Colby? Or Phil Gaimon? These guys are on our domestic teams — Colovita-Sutter Home and Jelly Belly, respectfully. I’ve had the privilege of having them kick my butt up Mount Washington, New Hampshire.
Anthony won the Newton’s Revenge race July 12, 2008 while Phil finished second. In August, in the Bicycle Hill Climb Race up the Mount Washington Auto Road, Phil won (and he would want me to tell you that Anthony wasn’t there).
I know I won’t be able to get close to Lance. I hope I can talk to Floyd even briefly. I sure want to say hi to Anthony and Phil. Mary Power, the events director at Mt. Washington, even sent instructions with me to give them both a hug from her. I think I’ll pass but will pass on her greetings.
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.
