barrysherry - peaceonabike

July 14, 2007February 9, 2023

USA Cycling Championships

CHAMPION, PENNSYLVANIA

The USA Cycling National Championships were held over a two-week period at Seven Springs Ski Resort. I saw an article in the Somerset (Pa.) Daily American looking for volunteers. I contacted Rachel Shaffer, the Seven Springs volunteer coordinator, three weeks before the event. She gladly accepted my offer and told me she would use me Saturday and half-day Sunday as a course marshal.

One week before the event, I hadn’t heard anything from her so I contacted her midweek to simply ask when and where we meet. She emailed me and said that we would meet at the Center Lobby at Seven Springs Saturday at 7:00 a.m.

I left my parents’ place in Friedens shortly before 6:00 a.m. for the 35-40 minute drive to the ski resort. I arrived around 6:40 a.m. but did not see a volunteer check-in, something I expected. I did see some folks with orange vests on and figured I should have one as well. A Seven Springs bus was leaving and a couple of cars followed. I jumped in my car and followed as well. The bus drove out to Trent and then at certain intersections of country roads either stopped to let someone off or the people inside waved to a volunteer already in place.

At one point the bus pulled over and a woman, Rachel I discovered, got out to talk to the people in the car behind the bus. Then I pulled up beside her and introduced myself. She replied that I was late and that she already filled all the positions.

I started to do a slow burn. I had driven from Northern Va. to volunteer. I didn’t have a second car and rented a car just to volunteer for this event. Rachel backed off the “you’re late excuse” after I pointed out to her that I was at the Springs by 6:45 then stated that she simply used the same volunteers she has been using all week. She said she didn’t need me.

But she said she would give me a t-shirt. Big effing deal.

I pulled out a copy of the email she sent me in which she wrote my reporting time was 7:00 a.m. She looked at that, realized that she had been caught in her lie, and then stated that she could use me back at Swiss Mountain (Seven Springs) so that I would “at least get to see the course.” I figured that was a “nothing” assignment and indeed when we reached Seven Springs, after dropping off all the real volunteers, we stopped by some condos about 50 yards off the main road. The condos weren’t even on course. I wasn’t needed.

Further, there were no cars at the condos. No one was parked there. I was to guard an intersection of an empty parking lot that wasn’t even on course. What a bogus assignment. I immediately went out to the main road and told the policeman I would help him. I put on my orange vest and we waited for the first activity.

The policeman had both police and race radio and I was glad I wasn’t stuck on the course out in the country with no information. Throughout the day I would have updates on where the riders were.

The 17-18 Men started at 7:30 a.m. from the ski resort. It took perhaps 6-7 minutes for the peloton to leave the resort and climb the hill by the golf course. A State Trooper led the procession over the hill followed by 7-8 motorcycles. As they crested the hill, all but five or six of the riders were still in the peloton, which started with 175 riders.

As they descended the mountain road it was foggy and cool but visibility should have been no problem. There was some moisture on the road from the morning fog. The peloton flew by sounding like a swarm of bees. Just as quick as they crested they were gone.

The 15-16 Men group should have passed 10 minutes later (scheduled start 7:40 a.m.). But they didn’t. We waited some more and still no group.

They were to race on a “lollipop” course. The stem, about 8 miles, would go out to a loop, of about eight miles. The 17-18 Men would go first, followed 10 minutes later by the 15-16 men. The older group would do three loops on the course before returning while the younger guys would do two laps. Once out on the loop, there would be numerous riders, of both age groups, circling.

Still, the 15-16 men didn’t come by. The first indication of a problem was around that time a fire truck from Seven Springs went screaming down the hill. Soon a number of ambulances and police cars raced down the hill, just out of sight of our vantage point. We started to hear bits and pieces coming from race radio and knew something was bad. Later we saw two life-flight helicopters circling above.

There was bad news. There was a crash at the bottom of the hill. More than three dozen cyclists were injured. The 17-18 race went on but the 15-16 race was held for a couple of hours.

The following article appeared on the KDKA website:

Dozens Hurt In Seven Springs Cycling Accident
(KDKA) SEVEN SPRINGS

Two people were flown to the hospital and dozens of others were hurt after an accident at a biking event in Somerset County. “It’s unusual to have a wreck but when you do it usually involves a lot of riders,” Steve Gottlieb, a cyclist from Alexandria, Va., said. Witnesses say two cyclists bumped into each other causing a chain reaction collision, involving approximately 37 participants. “As soon as I hit them I flipped over the handle bars and landed on top of my head,” Logan Von Bokel said. “I got some road rash on my arms, but most of the pain right now is in my back and my neck.” Emergency officials say two people were flown from the scene with serious, but non life-threatening injuries. USA Cycling declined comment accept to say there was an accident. Von Bokel says he plans to heal and ride again. “Crashing is always a possibilty in bike racing – it’s just something you have to learn to accept,” he said. (© MMVII, CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.)

Anxious parents soon came out the road and wanted to drive down to the crash site. We couldn’t allow the cars on the course but some walked the half-mile down to the crash. Later, a Seven Springs bus went down to bring back riders with minor injuries. Some came walking back on their own. Some had been attended to, evidenced by the bandages on their bodies. I met a couple of riders coming back. One carried two pieces of his bike. He actually thought it was pretty cool that his bike had snapped in half.

The leaders of the race had gone through and were unaware there had been a crash in the main field. The winner of the day was Ben King, of Charlottesville, Va., who simply destroyed the competition. His winning time was 2:23.05 and the next three finishers, Nick Bax, Cheyne Hoag, and Danny Summerhill, were all 7:41 behind. Coming in the 18-20 positions at 8:47 were Jose Blanco, Taylor Phinney, and Ryan Zupko.

Once the riders were safely off the course, I was able to ride a little on the course. I rode out to Trent and then on the way back met up with three women from Team Cheerwine. I chatted for a while with Chrissy Ruiter (pictured left) from Bend, Oregon. All the women seemed very nice.

On the rollers, I was keeping up fine but don’t know if I could have stayed with them all the way up the three-mile climb. But then I clunked a gear shift and it about threw me off the bike. The chain caught and just stopped. I was still pedaling. They passed on by and I circled back down the hill to shift. By then I lost 100 meters on them and never regained it. But we were soon at the top of the Seven Springs hill.

In the afternoon the 17-18 year-old women got rolling I was surprised when only 14 crested the first climb. I thought that was a breakaway but was more surprised to learn that was the group. Well, 15 of them. The winner on the day was Lauren Shirock at 2:21.22 (two loops). Sinead Miller was second at 2:00. The Mens’ 15-16 winner (also two loops) was Nathan Brown coming in at 2:03.07. The Women’s 15-16 winner was Coryn Rivera.

This was a complete screw-up by the volunteer coordinator at Seven Springs. But in the end, I made my own assignment and it was one of the better ones. And I got a t-shirt.

July 8, 2007August 27, 2021

Horrible Weather on Mount Washington

PINKHAM NOTCH, NEW HAMPSHIRE

It had been my dream for some time to climb mountains like the riders in the Tour de France. In researching all the great climbs and how to get to Europe to ride them I discovered something I didn’t know. In the U.S. there is a road that is often considered tougher than any on the Tour.

I had hoped to enter the Mount Washington Auto Road Hill Climb scheduled for August but the Hill Climb registration sold out in 20 minutes on February 1. That opened a second race, Newton’s Revenge, sponsored by Louis Garneau (they have some great clothes!) to be held on the “lucky” date of 07/07/07.

The climb up Mt Washington is tough. Just under eight miles, it averages 12% grade and tops out at 22%. If the road isn’t tough enough, it also features the world’s worst weather with very strong and unpredictable winds.

My daughter, Ashley, agreed to go with me, and on Thursday, July 5, I picked her up from her new in-laws where she had been spending the week in Bethany Beach, Delaware. We started the day by taking a brief walk in the ocean. We drove to Windsor Locks, Connecticut.

On Friday we continued to the tourist mountain town of North Conway, New Hampshire. After checking in to the hotel, we went out to the race start. I was the second rider to pick up a race packet at the Mount Washington Auto Road.

I carefully watched what I ate (pasta loading) and made sure to get a good night’s rest. Actually, that would be impossible and I was very anxious about the climb. Morning came too soon and we were out of the hotel by 5:45 a.m. Anticipation was in the air as we drove out to Mt. Washington.

We arrived by 6:30 a.m. — cars needed to go up the mountain by 7:00 a.m. but there was something wrong. The sun covered the valley but many people seemed to be leaving. The view of Mt Washington was gorgeous. Sun blanketed the mountain except for the clouds that covered the summit. Stunning.

Mount Washington sticking its head out from among the clouds

One problem. Inside those clouds were 70 miles per hour winds, just 40° which translated to a wind chill of 27°, and zero visibility. There was rime ice at the summit and overnight rains made the one-mile dirt section impassable. The race was canceled. (Postponed)

It was surreal. Although there was a rain date of July 8, I had not envisioned staying. It was too far from home. Our plans were to drive back to Connecticut after the race on Saturday then continue home on Sunday. I was greatly disappointed. But Ashley said, “Dad, we have to stay and try again tomorrow.” I thought I had imposed on her enough to come with me and be my driver off the mountain but she was insistent that we find a way to stay.

Ashley at the Eagle River, Jackson, New Hampshire

We didn’t know if we could work it out with the sold-out hotel but then decided to take some time to think about it. We drove to Jackson across a covered bridge then waded in a mountain stream. We took a train ride on the Conway Scenic Railroad and were able to work out another night at the hotel.

We had met a wonderful woman at the Discovery Weather Center in North Conway who encouraged me to ride Hurricane Mountain Road — a beast of a climb. So in the afternoon I went and rode it.

This is not a straight road but a 17% grade (looking down). Hurricane Mountain Road is a beast.

I struggled for air and for legs as I crept up this mountain road. I’m not sure if the ride was to give me confidence or to break my spirit. It turns out that the average grade was a monstrous 18%. As soon as I got back to North Conway I went to a bike shop and asked if they could change my gearing. But it was too late since they would need to order a cassette and maybe change the derailleur. Doubt crept into my mind if I had low enough gearing to complete the race.

The first message we saw Sunday was at 4:45 a.m. that they were checking the condition of the auto road. Winds had calmed to 30 mph and the temperature was 45°. It looked promising.

On our drive back to the mountain we saw two cars off the road. Ashley said they must be looking at a moose. While my goal was to climb Mt Washington, her goal was to see a moose. Sure enough, the cars were pulled off because there was moose eating by the side of the road. We joined them and Ashley got out and much too close to the moose to take pictures. The trip was a success. We had our moose.

We continued on to the mountain and it started raining. I wasn’t too worried about riding in the rain since I exercise all winter long outdoors. Getting wet would not bother me. We arrived and parked by the big tent anxiously awaiting the departure of the cars to head up the mountain. Then we learned the race was canceled. This time for good.

Anticipation and adrenaline were the order of the day Saturday. When it was canceled Saturday it was like a giant balloon having all its air sucked out. Not so on Sunday. Not nearly as much air went back in that balloon and when it was canceled for good it was simply time to go home. We had 700 miles of driving ahead of us.

This venture started as my sole reason for going to Mt Washington was to test myself against the mountain. The mountain won. Twice.

But all in all, I spent four days with my daughter that I probably won’t get to again. It was not a wasted weekend. Actually, I loved it. Wish I got to ride but spending time with my daughter, meeting other riders, and seeing a moose — it was all good.

Because my anticipation wasn’t as high as Saturday the disappointment wasn’t as great either and we just headed back home in the rain. Although we left behind temperatures in the high 50s and rain, we were reminded we were close to home when we stopped at a rest area in Maryland and it was 97°.

Since the race, my registration has been rolled over to next year’s event — July 12, 2008.

May 24, 2007September 4, 2020

Red Rock Canyon

BLUE DIAMOND, NEVADA

A very wide two-lane road with equally wide shoulders, it was only 10 miles from Las Vegas but could have been 100. I found McGhies Blue Diamond Bikes which rented Trek Bikes.

I asked the owner how to get to Red Rock Canyon. The bike didn’t have a computer. He simply sized me up and said ride for 30 minutes then turn left. At 8 miles or 16 miles per hour, mostly climbing, he was right.

The road turned up and my breathing labored. I was surprised to see that the scenic road within the park was almost a mile high.

It made for a nice downhill ride going back. I saw two wild burrows, or I saw the same one twice. Not sure. But it’s a great way to spend a day in Vegas.

May 3, 2007May 16, 2017

Bike Theft on the Mall

WASHINGTON, DC

I keep a “throw-away” bike at work which I can use to ride at lunch or more often, ride to the Mall to play Ultimate Frisbee with our lunchtime crowd. There are a number of us who ride to the game and generally the bikes are parked together. Most are locked but some are not.

My bike is usually locked with a cable but a couple of days earlier Steve Darragh had borrowed the bike lock. No big deal.

During the game I saw a man walk by our bikes which were parked beside a heavily-traveled pedestrian walkway. He looked at our bikes then turned to watch us play. I turned to make a play then looked again and I saw the back of him on my bike taking off with it.

All of a sudden, I decided I wasn’t quite ready to lose my throw-away bike. “Hey!” I screamed. “Get off my bike!” Foolishly, I sprinted to catch up to him to knock him off my bike. He looked and saw that I was in pursuit, some 40 yards away, and decided to out sprint me. Thankfully, my equally foolish friends realized what I was doing and ran after me and him. We caught him as he reached the street and knocked him off my bike to the street. My bike only suffered minor scratches.

My friends restrained him as I waited for the police to apprehend him and complete 90 minutes of paperwork. When they searched him they found that he had a crack pipe on him. And a knife. Only later was I reminded that you never chase a criminal as they are usually armed and willing to kill you.

I forgot.

_____

Pictured above are my friends Mark Gaffigan (who did most of the wrestling although I was initially on the ground too), Ernie Rodriguez (in red) and Dave Frenkel (holding his arm down). Ernie had him in a choke hold moments before we stood up to talk to the police. We restrained him but no one hurt him once he was on the ground (that is, no more hurt than getting knocked off my bike to the street will do)

He was arrested, then released, where he would be caught stealing at least three more times before being locked up in July. On July 25, he pleaded guilty to being a bad bike thief and was sentenced to 90 days in jail. I don’t know his criminal background enough to opine whether that was a fair sentence or not but I think an appropriate one would have been 10 days in jail while wearing a sign saying “I was caught by a bunch of old white guys.”

Here I am with my bike and the police who get all of the credit and did none of the work.

Photo credits: CZ Caldwell, who happened to be shooting photos on the Mall and was more than willing to be a witness in this case. Her artwork can be found at: http://www.zazzle.com/starlily

November 2, 2006September 4, 2020

An Awakening

WOODBRIDGE, VA

I view June 22 as the day my life was saved. Sure, I was getting ready for surgery. But it’s far more than that. June 26 would be the day of the actual surgery to “clean up my knee.”

I went a number of years without stepping on a scale. Why? Because (a) I knew how much I weighed and (b) I didn’t really want to know how much I weighed.

I was active. Very active. Beginning in 1986 until 1995 I played softball almost year-round. At work, we opened a fitness center in 1989 and my lunchtime became exercise. We played Ultimate (Frisbee) on the Mall in D.C. every Wednesday which soon became every Tuesday and Thursday. That eventually became every day.

After softball, I started coaching soccer and was always active with the players. I went to a doctor in 1990 for pain in my heel which would have me sit for weeks at a time. It was diagnosed as Achilles Tendonitis. Whether it was misdiagnosed, I will never know.

By 2001 I had a new bike and Andrew and I rode a lot of the rail trails and even ventured to Pittsburgh once. (We abandoned at Antietam Creek due to a mechanical.) In 2003 I rode back from Pittsburgh, by bike.

I was playing Ultimate daily and refereeing soccer. I had been riding my Trek Navigator (hybrid) quite a bit. People were used to seeing me on a bike. I was feeling fit.

Many of my older shirts didn’t fit as well and it was clear that they had been washed too many times in hot water.

Every time I had been to the doctor, be it foot or knee, if I was asked my weight I gave it as 180, 185, or maybe, gulp, 190. At the hospital, they weighed me.

I took off my shoes and stepped on the scale.

219.6

It had been a long while since I had been weighed. I knew my weight was creeping up but not this much. OMG!

I was scared. Honestly scared. Was my heart ready to blow right then and there? Instantly, I knew a lifestyle change was in order.

Diet and exercise. Most people can alter both but I was already very active. I couldn’t exercise much more than I was doing. I would have to change my diet. And I did.

I made a concerted effort from that day forward. No more seconds. They’re good, but who NEEDS them? Order the smaller portion when available. A hamburger instead of a double cheeseburger. I wouldn’t go hungry but I wouldn’t eat until I was real full either.

While I was still on crutches I started riding my bike. Just slow-spinning at first but it was easier to bike than to walk.

And I forced myself to get on the scale. In 11 days I had lost 8 pounds and was down to 211. And I worked harder, more exercise, and did skip meals. I know I lost too much too fast. Only July 26, one month after my surgery, I broke through the 200-pound barrier.

I can rattle these numbers off because I kept (and keep) a fitness journal. And maybe the biggest motivation of all came on August 8, 2006. It was on that day that I made a note that I wanted to bike up Mt. Washington, New Hampshire. And I didn’t want to compete as a Clydesdale (190+ lbs).

On August 16 I broke the 190 barrier on my way to my goal of 180 which has basically, been my adult weight for as long as I could remember. Or pretend.

By September 15 I had dropped below 180. In less than three months I had lost 40 pounds.

I started hanging around The Bike Lane more looking at road bikes. I found the more I rode the more I wanted to ride. And I was riding almost exclusively on paved roads or trails.

If nothing else, just having the surgery and facing the reality that my weight had crept up, would save my life. The weight came off and stayed off and biking brought me a new lease on life.

EDIT: Originally titled Surgery to Save my Life, after being diagnosed and having surgery to remove cancer, I changed the titled to this: An Awakening.

June 23, 2006August 31, 2020

A Doctor’s Diagnosis

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

For the last month, I was seeing my doctor for knee pain and he had scheduled me for an MRI. I picked up the MRI results to take to him but knew what they contained. The lab had forgotten to include the results in the envelope so they gave them to me to hand-deliver to the doctor. It was clear: a torn MCL.

I met with the doctor we discussed what type of lifestyle I wanted to live. When I told him I wasn’t quite ready for the couch he suggested surgery. “Sooner or later,” he asked. When I replied “sooner,” he said he had an opening on Monday. That same day I went to Potomac Hospital for pre-op for the surgery and a wake-up call that would save my life.

May 31, 2006September 6, 2020

A Pain in the Knee

WOODBRIDGE, VA

The spring of 2006 brought a renewed attitude towards riding. I was riding to soccer fields and beginning to pick up a reputation within my soccer club as the guy who rides everywhere. Twenty to 30-mile rides, before I checked in on the referees on the fields, were not uncommon. The love of riding was back.

I suffered through two heel surgeries in 2003 and 2004. I looked around at other guys my age and they all seemed to have knee injuries. Thank goodness I had good knees.

In May I realized that maybe I didn’t have good knees. It hurt to walk up steps and to cross my legs. Yet more surgery was on the horizon.

It is here that one would make a comment about aging. Something like “it’s hell getting older.” But the truth is I am thankful for the opportunity to become older. Sure, there are pains of age but those are challenges — challenges that not everyone gets to meet. So I can take care of the heel. I can take care of the knees. But I am here.

December 31, 2005September 4, 2020

2005 – Another Slow Year

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Perhaps I had an excuse for not biking in 2004. I really didn’t for 2005. Recovery from the Keck and Kelly procedure was long and biking probably would have been the best recovery but the bike sat idle.

Your are looking live at my foot after the Keck and Kelly procedure

I was slow and was taking my time recovering from the surgery. I went to Sidney, Ohio in may to referee in the Mayfest Tournament and was not my normal self. Recovery was taking a lot longer than I wanted it to and the secret was getting on the bike.

But it’s the Catch-22. You feel slow so you don’t want to ride. You don’t ride because you feel slow. And so I didn’t much. Rarely did I pull my bike out to ride.

December 31, 2004September 6, 2020

Little Riding in 2004

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

In August 2003, I was off the bike for an extended period of time. My trip from Pittsburgh to D.C. left me with ulnar neuropathy and I had numbness in both hands. Riding my bike aggravated this so I parked it for a while. A long while.

But the hands were the least of my worries. My Achilles tendon had been aching and was swollen pretty badly most of the time. Getting out of bed in the morning and to the shower was a chore. I had had this problem for most of 13 years and it was time to have it corrected.

In December 2003, I had surgery to remove bone spurs although the doctors found I had a broken piece of bone embedded in my Achilles. They wondered how I could walk.

The year 2004 should have been a year of recovery. Or six months. Or six weeks.

I did not start riding again until July. I went with my parents and my son, Andrew, to Berrien Springs, Michigan, for the annual “Campvention” of the Family Campers and Recreational Vehicles Association (FCRV). I took my bike and every day that week rode 30-35 miles to the coast of Lake Michigan and back. It was here I realized that my foot never healed from the surgery. I had to ice after every ride.

I put the bike back after we returned from Michigan. In early Fall I made the decision to have more surgery. On October 13, 2004 I had a “Keck and Kelly” procedure in which a wedge was removed from the back of the heel and the heel was rotated upward to relive pressure on the Achilles. It was reassembled using a 3″ titanium screw which remains.

Frankenfoot. The dot at the bottom of the heel is where the 3″ screw was inserted.

Riding was one thing I probably should have been doing but my total in 2004 was less than 200 miles. Actually, even riding aggravated the Achilles. Surgery was the one thing I should have been doing – sooner.

August 24, 2003July 27, 2021

Pittsburgh to Washington D.C. – Day 5

The Home Stretch

SHEPHERDSTOWN, WV — I was up around 7:00 a.m. and was prepared to leave by 8:00. I wanted to be quiet and went about filling my Camelbak with the ice and water that Bethany had filtered the night before. Bethany got up and saw me off. I rode off to Sheetz and bought a Gatorade and breakfast sandwich. After eating, I rode again by Bethany’s apartment and Ashley’s dorm at Shepherd University.

I crossed the bridge on Rte 65 from Shepherdstown into Maryland then descended the steep hill back to the canal. This time I rode the brakes careful not to outride them. I safely descended the hill and turned on the access road that parallels the canal for three miles. I came to the Antietam Creek aqueduct, one of the best-preserved water crossings on the canal. This was the point that Andrew and I reached two years ago before breaking my rear wheel (we call it taco). Having reached this point I had ridden from Pittsburgh to D.C., at least in parts.

A band of heavy thunderstorms had moved through late yesterday and the canal was showing it. Much of the canal has returned to its natural forested state, albeit with a canal depression. Where the canal contains water is a little more out in the open than the forested sections. Heavier than normal spring rains followed by a somewhat rainy summer had left the canal towpath in wet shape.

Because of miles of forest cover, the canal has not had a chance to dry out. The first section to Harpers Ferry wasn’t too bad. As I approached Harpers Ferry I expected that I would see more people as this section is very popular with tourists. I did.

I stopped briefly at Harpers Ferry and climbed up the railroad bridge that crosses the Potomac River into town. Here two tracks exit the railroad tunnel and one has a great view of the river and the Shenandoah River entering the Potomac at this location. I went back to my bike and headed south again. I was still having problems sitting in the saddle (saddle sores) but I knew it would be my last day.

I started hitting stretches of good trail for 200-300 yards then had to ride through a 15-foot puddle. It was a killer to try to gain any speed. One shouldn’t need to brake on a path but I was constantly applying the brakes so as not to get too muddy.

Just south of Brunswick about 15 girls came running up the towpath. This was the girls’ cross country team from Brunswick high school. A few minutes later an adult running group came through as well.

Brunswick, Maryland Train Station (Photo 2021)

It was getting muddier as I approached Point of Rocks. This location is always neat to view. Here the river and a sheer rock cliff are almost side by side. The railroad was in a legal battle with the canal for this piece of land. The canal won and built next to the river and the railroad tunneled through it. After the canal shut down the railroad acquired the right of way, filled in the canal and put a railroad track around the mountain. Here you really do have one track around the mountain and one through it.

It was getting muddier and I was not making good time. I had forgotten where the Monacacy River Aqueduct was and was surprised when I came upon it. I walked my bike across the aqueduct (required) and continued south.

Around 12:30 I reached White’s Ferry where an important decision would be made. Ride to Virginia or continue on into D.C on the C&O?

White’s Ferry has operated for years and is the only operating ferry north of D.C. on the Potomac River. To cross into Virginia would be to pay the $1 toll and then ride about three miles into Leesburg. At Leesburg, one can pick up the paved Washington and Old Dominion Rail Trail which runs slightly downhill to Shirlington, about four miles from D.C. So here was the situation. The paved road would be easier riding, much easier riding, but is also out in the open and hotter. Plus there are a lot of users on the W&OD including roadies who fly by, heads down, checking their cadence.

This may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience and there would be some who would suggest that I really didn’t ride Pittsburgh to D.C. if I didn’t continue to Washington. Having talked with some other riders at Whites Ferry, I decided to continue on the towpath. I refreshed by grabbing a quick bite at the store then headed south again.

Historic Whites Ferry Store and Restaurant (Photo: Sept. 2020)

Some riders I met here were pretty muddy. I figured they must have been ahead of me coming down from Harpers Ferry. I told them I hoped they came from the north but they said they actually came from the south and were going back. They asked how far I had ridden this day and I told them almost 40 miles from Shepherdstown. We were at MP 35 so I was more than halfway home on this day. They were impressed and even more so when I told them I started out from Pittsburgh on Tuesday.

As they started riding I decided to tag along. They waited for me and allowed me to ride with them. It was a welcome invitation. We chatted along the way but we rode fast. Where I had been struggling, and indeed had yet to settle into a rhythm in the saddle down to Whites Ferry, I sat up on my saddle and matched their quick pace. And it felt good.

The two riders were probably in their mid-40s and mid-50s. The younger one was named “Trace” and he set a great pace. But he didn’t lead right away. His friend did and they took turns setting the pace for me. Our second rider crashed in one of the muddy spots. The trail was treacherous.

When you approached a mud hole there were two choices. Ride through it or ride around it. Riding around it was preferred but on either side were trees. It wasn’t as simple as riding on level ground to traverse the mud hole. If you went around it often the path went on an angle next to the trees and one could not ride just sitting up. If you did the back wheel would slide off the hill and you could crash. That’s what happened to our first rider. He wasn’t hurt, just covered with mud.

Trace took over the pace-setting and picked some wicked lines through the mud. Sometimes in 15 yards, we would swing wide right, then swing all the way through the mud to the extreme left. I had to follow their line. Only occasionally did I choose to ignore the line Trace had selected and chose my own. When I did I was right.

We rode together for most of 15 miles to Seneca. At the end, I thanked them so much and regret that I did not get their names. They were the George Hincapie to my Lance Armstrong, and I’m no Lance Armstrong. But what a difference riding with a pacesetter means where I didn’t have to do the work. One doesn’t have to be traveling 30 mph into a headwind to appreciate someone riding in front of you. Even on this day with no wind just riding behind someone made a world of difference. It really lifted my spirits and I now had 50 miles behind me and was looking forward to the last 20.

After my pace setters left it wasn’t far before I saw a woman pedaling slowly ahead of me. The towpath was getting very crowded as there were many entrance points from here to D.C. So it was not unusual to see other riders and there were bike rental locations nearby. But I recognized the two bags hanging off her bike. I came up behind her and said “You need to pedal faster than that if you’re going to get home today, DIANNE.” She looked was completely surprised. She thought I was headed home on the W&OD. And she was tired.

But we both picked up our pace. We passed Swains Lock and Seven Locks. We took a detour around a rocky section. Near the end of our trips, we came to the Capital Crescent Trail. Here Dianne was headed home to Chevy Chase and I was headed into D.C. We said goodbye and went our separate ways.

I thought about how to handle my last two miles. Should I go slow and savor the moment that I had completed this journey or should I ride quickly to the finish? I decided to ride it fast.

I had ridden 350 miles over rail trails and backcountry roads in Pennsylvania and the entire length of the C&O Canal. I had seen many types of animals including numerous turtles and deer, otters, turkeys, and herons. But one thing I hadn’t seen was a snake. That was about to change.

Just in front of me on the trail was a snake. Not any snake but a poisonous copperhead. In D.C. no less. For the couple of miles I had switched to the Capital Crescent trail which is right beside the Potomac River. Just beside the trail was the C&O. The snake was crossing the trail and another cyclist stopped to protect it and other riders. He made sure no one accidentally hit the snake and it moved on safely in the weeds next to the river.

I rode the last mile and then all-too-quickly came to Georgetown. That was it. I wanted to scream because the trip was over. I did ask someone if this was it (the end of the route). They said it was. (What I didn’t know was there was a Milepost 0 post near the Kennedy Center which I did not find.)

There was a great sense of accomplishment having just completed the route but part of me wondered if there was more. Wanted there to be more. It really was all about the journey and not the destination.

I meandered over to the river area near the Kennedy Center and asked a man to take my picture. I rode about six blocks over to the Foggy Bottom Metro stop. There was a street vendor and I was looking for food. But they were sold out so I just bought a celebratory Mountain Dew. This was it. I put my bike on the Metro and headed to Virginia.

EPILOGUE

Mistakes – I made a Few

Training, training, training.

I made a few mistakes on this ride but none more critical than not training.

I did not ride enough before the trip. The summer of 2003 was not one in which I had done much bike riding. My business trip to Pittsburgh came without much advance notice and it was only then that I decided I would ride back home on a bike. I did not prepare my body for the rigors of being on a saddle more than six hours a day.

This ride should be within any cyclist’s capability but in 2003 I would not be considered a cyclist. Just an average guy determined to ride from Pittsburgh to D.C.

I gutted it out the entire trip and was suffering greatly. I could barely walk my legs and butt hurt so bad. When I went to sign the receipt in Somerset after the first day I noticed I could barely hold a pen in my hands. Both hands went numb on this trip.

The numbness in my hands (ulnar neuropathy) perhaps would not have occurred or I would have noticed it before the trip and got better fitted on my bike to prevent it. But I think it occurred because my butt hurt so bad I ended up out of the saddle way too much. The result was my weight was more on my hands than on my butt. It would be many months before the numbness eventually went away.

My second major mistake was dealing with food and water. I thought I would be able to get enough water and food along the route but that was harder than I thought.

On the first day out of Pittsburgh, my Camelbak was full of clothes so I did not have room for water. That was a major mistake. There simply weren’t enough places along the route to Ohiopyle to get water. Eating properly the night and even days before is important. Wings and fries are not long-distance food.

On the first day, I was “in difficulty” but did not feel hungry. Yet I knew to stop at Cedar Creek Park for a quick bite.

Generally, I never had a chance to eat on the trail. After the first day, I added Granola bars to my pack which helped. On Day 2, I ate at a Subway in Meyersdale, a stop I had preplanned. On Day 3, I hoped to eat at Bills in Orleans but his store was closed. I missed the exit to go into Paw Paw, WV. On Day 4, I missed the opportunity to stop at Williamsport and hoped to eat before Shepherdstown but that store on the towpath was closed as well.

I didn’t plan as well as I could have because I had ridden many of these sections before and I thought I knew them. I was wrong. My weekend rides in which these stores were open were the extent of my planning for food. On Day 5, I did grab a very bad hot dog at Whites Ferry. And a cold Gatorade.

If there was a third mistake it was riding solo. I found it was so much easier to ride with someone, especially when someone else was setting a faster pace. Even if not pace setting, just being with another person takes one mind off the suffering. Plus, in case of an accident, and I barely saved one on the canal on Day 4, there would be a person to help or summon help.

Finally, I did like my distance, an average of 70 miles per day. But I would want to ride from D.C. to Pittsburgh instead of Pittsburgh to D.C. It’s just more difficult the first two days to ride uphill from Pittsburgh to Frostburg. The “uphill” from D.C. to Cumberland is on the canal, one mile of flat followed by a 10-foot uphill. The section from Cumberland to Frostburg is a climb but is relatively short.

It was great to complete the trip and afterward said “never again.” But after a summer of riding more than 2,000 miles recovering from knee surgery, I am now in bike shape. And the trail calls to me again…

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette Article on the Trail (2010)