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July 26, 2012July 23, 2015

Even Stronger Winds

MARSHALLTOWN, IOWA

I didn’t wear any cancer apparel which would have come in handy today. Riding solo I came to Story City and saw the Spokes of Hope banner on the left. I hit the brakes then went over and introduced myself.

I met Cindi and Ken Hart, “Cindi from Indy” as she says. Cindi and another rider left without me but I pulled over down the road when she had flatted so I could watch him fix her flat. (I really did offer to help but three people on a flat are two too many.)

Cindi Hart

It was another hot day (100+ degrees) day on our way to Marshalltown.
Other than the brief encounter with Cindi, I met no one and just kept
riding to the city. And looking to keep cool.

Cute kids selling water in McCallsburg, Iowa

Many groups or people sold water. Some gave away free ice water. The Air Force
reserve had tanker trucks on the route at one location per day for free
water. Residents had sprinklers next to the road and some had garden
hoses and were more than willing to hose down riders who wanted drenched.

But my favorite stop was in Clemons where a sprinkler hose was stretched across the street. I removed my cell phone from my pocket then enjoyed the water.

Sprinkler hose stretched over the street in Clemons, Iowa

Arriving Marshalltown, I stopped at a convenience store and talked to the manager. I asked him where the locals ride and he told me of a river path on the levee that goes 10 miles out of town. Once set up I went for a quiet 10-mile ride and found a delightful nature center at Grimes Farm. I even climbed a steep hill, on a grass path, to an observation tower.

In Marshalltown I met Michelle Haalman, a fellow cancer survivor and friend of my sister, Brenda. She is working for Bubba’s Pampered Pedalers and often buys Steelers tickets from me. It was nice to say hello.

Highest point in town
Maybe in Iowa*

After a catered dinner ($9) at the site, I went swimming in the Iowa River. The water seemed bath water warm and wasn’t real refreshing. Plus there were small fish nibbling at me.

Art work on the bike trail underpass

At sunset a storm moved in. Not just any storm but a wicked storm. One hellacious wicked storm. Hunkered down in my tent, I thought the sides would tear. I’m guessing two gusts of wind hit hard. The first was 50 mph and the second 60. Who knows, they could have been 20 and 30 or 80 and 90 — but the second was stronger than the first. If my body weight had not been in the tent it surely would have taken off.

Then lightning and thunder struck all around. This was one where you’d see the lighting and hear the thunder, almost simultaneously. Then the rain came. And I was scared. We were among trees and the fear was a branch could be struck and fall and crush us as well. And Marshalltown was the one place on RAGBRAI where they had no safe evacuation for us. No shelter in schools.

We simply waited it out. And no one got hurt although I heard of damage later.

A note about the mileage: I forgot to reset the Garmin after the ride so it includes the first 59 miles of the next day ride. It does not include an extra mile on the levee at the end of the day when I was charging the Garmin and it wasn’t on the bike. Total: 101.5.

___
*It’s not. Marshalltown is at 942′. The highest point is 1600′.

July 22, 2012July 19, 2017

Me and 23,000 Friends

CHEROKEE, IOWA

I waited for Scott Scudamore and his group of friends and they asked me to lead them out, joking that I would soon drop them. We went 150 meters and I pulled over to look for a friend, Mickey Haalman, who was working with Bubba’s Pampered Pedalers. They rolled on without me and I never saw them the rest of the day. And I didn’t see Mickey either.

We rolled out of Sioux Center. The fire department hung American flags high above the road for our roll out. Thousands, 10,000 registered and estimates of 23,000 total, rolled out of Sioux Center. And I was alone. With thousands.

Once on the open road one can ride at speed. Mostly. But entering the small towns you often come to a complete stop. So many people are stopping and dismounting that more often than not you have to dismount and walk your bike through the town.

The first town I came to was Orange City. Dead stop. I thought I could stay on my bike but came to the realization that so many people would just stop and turn that it was safer to walk.

I met up with a young man, Stephen, from Chicago and we rode together the entire day. It was nice having company. We stopped at a farm stand selling water, Gatorade, and bananas, a RAGBRAI staple.

RAGBRAI is a celebration of Iowa. In the towns and cities where it passes they bring out their firetrucks and hang banners. Churches, schools, scout and civic groups all set up stands selling food. And in between the towns, the farmers set up stands selling food.

In Marcus we stopped for more drink and watermelon. But mostly we pedaled. We did a rolling farewell when we arrived Cherokee, never to see each other again. “Nice riding with you – have a great week.”

Once I arrived in Cherokee, and it was a bit early, I did a little riding around town. I found a nice swimming pool but the line was too long to get in. That would have been the best deal going. At RAGBRAI everything, including a shower, costs money. Rather than pay $6-$8 for a shower I could get a swim and a shower for $6-$8.

Plus I was a little uncomfortable leaving my bike outside the pool without locking it. I don’t carry a lock. My bike is in my car, in my house, or between my legs. Or at RAGBRAI, in my tent.

I found a restaurant where I could leave my bike outside the window and watch it while eating in my booth. If you want to know, it was a Pizza Hut. But it worked.

I ate dinner then went to the campsite where I put the bike in my tent, showered, and enjoyed some good company of others before dark. I also found the recharging station that we had at our camp. It was generator powered and I grabbed two spots – one for my phone and one for my Garmin.

As soon as it was dark I went to bed. I’m boring.

July 22, 2012July 23, 2015

RAGBRAI

SIOUX CENTER, IOWA

It’s called the Des Moines Registers’ Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa –
aka RAGBRAI. Some cyclists want to do it every year but most every cyclist
wants to attend once. The circumstances worked out that this would be
the year that I rode RAGBRAI.

Logistics can be complicated but I attended with my friend and one-time veteran, Scott Scudamore, which made it easier. We drove to the finish city, Clinton, Iowa, on Friday and took Registers’ Annual Great Bus Ride Across Iowa on Saturday to the start city, Sioux Center. Brancel Bicycle Charters transported our bikes in a moving van to Sioux Center.

And for me, RAGBRAI began in Sioux Center. The city center was transformed into RAGBRAI headquarters and so it began. Arriving around 4:30 p.m., I set up my tent and then went for a bike ride.

Tent City in Sioux Center

RAGBRAI is the ride across Iowa and it seemed disingenuous to not start at the Iowa border yet claim that one rode all the way across Iowa. And although it was hot, something that would dog us all week, I put two bottles of water on the bike and headed west — searching for the South Dakota border.

Lots of Jr. High Humor and Innuendo at RAGBRAI

I found Oak Hill State Park which led to the Big Sioux River, the border between South Dakota and Iowa. There were only a few riders here and each dipped their rear wheel in the river. I didn’t.

Big Sioux River. South Dakota is across the river.

I have been in 44 states but never South Dakota and wanted to cross the river. I thought about wading or swimming to the other side but there was no welcome sign.

I left the park determined to follow a road until I came to South Dakota. Heck, I might even have to ask someone for directions. But I didn’t need to.

On Hwy 10 I found the crossing into South Dakota. Now I was ready to return to Sioux Center in the knowledge that I was about to bike all the way across Iowa.

Barry’s start of RAGBRAI

A RAGBRAI tradition is for rookies to write VIRGIN on their calves. Part hazing but good fun. Jake the Hero Grecco was weighing heavy on my mind and I never allowed anyone to write Virgin on my calves — only Jake’s name would go on my legs.

June 28, 2012July 23, 2015

Dead Legs

CATHARPIN, VA

The last day of Bike Virginia, I had to decide to ride with my cousin, Kay Walborn, one last time, my friends, John Dockins or Vince Amodeo, or something different. Initially I thought I’d roll out with Bike Virginia until the 50 mile mark then head home and ride another 60 miles. In the end I decided to just ride home – a distance of 70-80 miles, depending on which roads I took.

The Bike Virginia folks rolled out starting at 7:00 a.m. and at 7:44 a.m. I got a message from John:

“Major crash. Road closed. Car hit bike.”

“Very somber ride today. People have seen chest compressions on the biker.“

I was glad not to be in the group today. I can ride comfortably as one or one in the 2,000. I took the roads I knew and ended up on Kabletown Road. I was surprised when after pulling over to check the message from John a Bike Virginia rider pulled up and asked me if she was on the right road. She must have left at 6:00 a.m. I assured her she was.

Kabletown Road was part of the Bike Virginia route but not until their Mile 40 or so. I simply took a short cut from Ashley’s place over to it to get me home and expected to see no one today since that would put me far in front of the event.

With today’s route one could not get lost. Headed south, you are bordered on the east by the Shenandoah River, on the west by Rte 340, and on the south by Rte 7. Either 340 or 7 takes one to Berryville, the ending location.

But that should not be an issue. Bike Virginia had perhaps the best signage of any supported event I have been on, except perhaps Livestrong-Philly. Up at 4:30 a.m., volunteers were placing signs and cones, and even using some flagmen (and flag women) at dangerous locations.

I continued on, passing the rider, and was first to arrive at the last rest stop of the ride, Moose Apple Christmas Tree Farm.

Moss Apple Christmas Tree Farm

The owner was a retired teacher from Fairfax Co. He has 25,000 trees planted. And sells some stain glass and other crafts on the side. It’s a real neat place. I even passed a turkey going in.

At 8:45 a.m., I was almost two hours ahead of the planned arrival and they were surprised and honored me. They took pictures of this rider. Number One!

I stayed for close to an hour, almost feeling that I had to stay until other riders showed up. Within an hour one did, then another, then my friend John. After a few more minutes it was time to go.

It was bittersweet that I was leaving Bike Virginia. I turned off the route and was now unsupported.

Note to self: The two mile section one has to ride on Route 7 eastbound is very scary. I’m thinking Rte 9 may be safer, especially once the new bypass is in and most of the traffic is off it.

I followed Rte 7 to Snickersville Turnpike and don’t remember a rougher time climbing. I had dead legs. They weren’t sore or didn’t ache. They were just dead. No power. And Snickersville is not flat. It has lots of steep drops and steep climbs. Ugh.

I thought I’d try Rte 234 – Sudley Road and that wasn’t the best option either. No shoulder and 55 mph traffic. At 52 miles in, I heard something break and immediately stopped. It was a spoke on the rear wheel.

With nowhere to go, I could not repair it, I called a cab for the final 27 miles. And fell asleep in someone’s yard.

EPILOGUE — The cyclist died.

The cyclist, a Corning, N.Y., man taking part in the Bike Virginia Tour was in critical condition at Winchester Medical Center Wednesday afternoon after having a heart attack while bicycling through Jefferson County, according to the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department. He died at the Winchester Medical Center late Wednesday night.

It is a somber reminder that this sport that I love is inherently dangerous. And there, but for the Grace of God, go I. Hit by a car with an awkward fall on Saturday, I could have landed badly and died. And faced with what must have been a slow speed crossing of those tracks, it was a freak accident that his awkward landing may have induced his cardiac arrest.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Mark Hogan. 🙁

Live each day to the fullest. And enjoy the journey.

June 27, 2012July 23, 2015

Riding for Jake

CHARLES TOWN, WV

I was excited this morning because I wanted to take a page out of the book of my friends doing the 4K for Cancer ride across the United States. Each day these 90 young people write the name of a cancer patient or survivor or someone who has lost the battle on their calves. I had my son-in-law, Bryan Snow, write the name of Jake Grecco, a true super hero, on my calves.

Just 8 years old and battling brain cancer, Jake has taken chemo, radiation, and even brain surgery in stride. Weakened by my lengthy rides, I felt energized today riding with Jake’s name on my calves.

I arranged to meet with old friend and co-worker, John Dockins, in front of the Trek Tent, and we rolled out at 7:30 a.m. On the road he started to hammer it although we settled into a good pace (which means we passed everybody) but we were joined by two others. For the first 15 miles four of us worked together in the heavy winds, which would be present all day.

Following a tractor. You know, we go the same speed
as a tractor but nobody yells or throws things at a tractor.

We had caught a tractor pulling some machinery at 20-22 mph. Perfect. We pulled in behind him and he created the perfect wind block. We rode in his draft for about two miles before he turned off. Rest Stop #1 was at the Summit Point Raceway. It was pretty cool. Some riders took to the race track for extra miles.

Rest Stop at Summit Point

Rolling out of the rest stop, we formed a new group with some men and women and hammered home with them. After the second rest stop, it got real funky.

Almost from the start today my legs hadn’t recovered. I thought my body was weakening having ridden 300 miles in three days.

John took off from Rest Stop #2 dropping me. I was never more than 50-100 meters behind him but there the two of us went, passing everyone along the way, John, followed by me, trailing 50-100 meters later. The wind was very heavy and John seemed stronger cutting through the wind than I did. I chased for six miles, never pulling him back but never closing the gap. And I was getting pissed.

I wondered what he was thinking and later he said he thought I had dropped back to talk to some people and would catch him when I wanted to. I wasn’t buying that. In this wind he was stronger.

John Dockins, Barry Sherry

Although the two of us had been passing people for six miles, I was going nowhere until I was passed by two riders. That quickly became three when I jumped on their wheels. Perfect.

It was the perfect tow back up to John. As we got ready to pass him I tried to sneak past without him seeing me. But he did and he jumped on and briefly made four in our group.

But shortly after that the two guys in front passed a car that was going slow up a hill and I joined them. John initially came but clunked his gears and he was gone. Just like that.

If John truly thought that I was behind him and could catch him anytime I feel like it what I did then was a crappy move. But if he was going full out in the wind without regard for his friend then it was payback. Big time.

We joined up with some other riders and alternated the workload. One guy came to the front with about three miles to go to the rest stop and hammered it. He was a big rider and was “nose in the wind” going about 23 mph. I sat second wheel and felt like half the time I was coasting.

This guy (left) rocked it! Best “pull” of the five days.

After a lunch break, we hit the road. After 43 miles of hammering, it was time for solo work. John and I left the rest stop for one mile then he would take the cutoff road and skip the climbing loop. I turned onto the climb. It was a formidable two and a half mile hill, and one by one I started passing people on the climb. I’m sure I didn’t catch everyone, but I passed five or six and wasn’t passed by anyone.

Once over the top I bombed the descent and caught and passed 15-20 riders in the valley leading to the next rest stop.

At the stop one woman saw Jake’s name on my legs and made a smart ass comment: “Do you name your shoes too so you can get the right legs in the right shoes?”

I was pissed. And hurt. I told her quietly that I was riding for my 8-year old cousin who was battling brain cancer.

I carried that with me the rest of the ride. The thought was we need fewer smart asses in this world and more compassion. I wanted to tell her off but the comment was made by, well, a smart ass trying to be funny and not with malice. Her group took off while I sat down and ate some food.

When I left the rest stop I wanted nothing more than to catch the woman who insulted my family. They were long gone but I that didn’t stop me from trying.

I immediately hit the next hill. It was a shorter, one and a half miles, but steeper climb. There I passed by 10-15 riders on the climb and, over the top, bombed the descent. Once in the valley I started reeling in riders in front of me – maybe another 30.

Going through Martinsburg was like old home week to me since I know the area pretty well. Hitting the bike trail outside of town I passed 40-50 riders and was passed by none. I really felt strong in miles 80-90. Seriously, in the last 40 miles I was passed by no one.

Getting back, I sat down and ate lunch at the Bike Virginia campus. When it was time to roll out I needed 10 more miles for 100 and 15 for 400 for four days. As good as I felt in miles 80-90, I felt that bad for the next 10 miles. It hit me. I was tired. But I was riding for Jake. And I would finish.

I added enough miles to give me another century then went to Ashley and Bryan’s place and laid down on the floor. I fell asleep. Three centuries in four days. Four hundred miles in four days.

I was very tired.

June 26, 2012July 23, 2015

It’s About the Journey

CHARLES TOWN, WV

Day 3 of Bike Virginia and I didn’t know what the day would hold. And that was part of the fun. I had seen my friend, Vince Amodeo, and had texted my friend, John Dockins, but had not yet seen him.

Tents at the Middle School
Flowing Springs Rd in the background

I rolled out and over to the Bike Virginia campus. I thought I’d meet my cousin, Kay Walborn, but she wasn’t out and on the road yet when I rolled out. So I took off by myself.

Riders turning off Flowing Springs Road

On the road I teamed up with some riders and ended up having a slow day – truly enjoying the journey, as I like to say. The first rest stop, after a harrowing ride on U.S. 11 going to Williamsport, Maryland, was at the Williamsport United Methodist Church. Most rest stops had the same water and Gatorade, fruit and snacks. I suspect Bike Virginia buys the food and the rest stop simply provides the space and volunteers.

Outside the church they had a “blessing of the bikes.” I skipped it since I had already been hit. Inside the church they served noodle soup, fried potatoes, and hot donuts, in addition to the normal fare. Bike Virginia also sponsored a contest for best rest area and this one got my vote. Extra points for not subjecting us to live bluegrass music too.*

Part of the journey was swimming in the Potomac River, although my participation was limited to wading. I didn’t want a squishy butt full of river water in my shorts.

But a number of people did.

Some of these roads were new to me and some weren’t. But most were new to the riders around me and they loved the road in Antietam National Battlefield. Perfect asphalt and no traffic. Nice.

We rode through the park then stopped for a photo op.

Antietam Battlefield

Actually, I was waiting for the all clear sign so that I could absolutely bomb the descent. I put my gear in the big ring and pedaled hard and got in my tuck. It felt like 50 mph. I looked down and my Garmin was — off.

Oh well. I will have to come back on my own and try that one again. The road is perfect – smooth pavement, no traffic, straight as an arrow down then rises on the other side. No turns.

After lunch in Sharpsburg, those cyclists “in the know” went back to Nutters for ice cream. It was an excellent way to finish.

At the end of the day I turned a planned 57-mile ride into a 73-mile ride but didn’t feel like stretching it beyond that.

_________
*EPILOGUE – This rest stop did win best rest stop award. Noodle soup, hot fried potatoes, and freshly cooked donuts in addition to the blessing of the bikes. Wonderful job!

June 11, 2012July 23, 2015

FUCANCER Doesn’t Quit

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

My third year in a row for the Air Force Crystal Classic. Two years ago I rode on my own and my timing chip on my shoe didn’t work. It had recorded just two of my eight laps.

Last year I rode with friends from The Bike Lane and at the start of the second lap my Garmin mount broke, my Garmin went flying, and I had to retrieve the Garmin and lost contact with my group.

Today, well, today was going to be different. Meeting up with some riders from The Bike Lane, we were planning to average 20 mph over the course. But we were at the back of nearly 1,000 riders at the start. On Lap One we had to pick and weave past slower riders, until we came to the turn around near the Iwo Jima Memorial. There a girl had crashed, the police were attending to her and one line, not lane, got by. It seemed we spent about four minutes with a foot on the ground.

Adam Lewandowski kitting up

Adam Lewandowski, James Mortson, Dennis McDonald, Rich McAfee, and I formed a “team” which was going well. After a slow first lap due to a bottleneck when the girl crashed, we hit the second 10 mile loop in 22 mph. I looked down and saw we had recovered and were averaging 20 mph for the ride.

Dennis McDonald

There were times the heat was starting to get to me. Almost from the start I wondered how long I could hang with the big boys – all racers for The Bike Lane. But I hung.
We finished the fourth lap and Rich needed a “natural break.” James and I continued on although we soft pedaled. We decided to pull over for water at the Air Force Memorial. As I was climbing the hill I flatted. That made my decision easy.

But then I blew the repair. I used my one tube and one CO2 cartridge and it popped. I popped.

At this point, having ridden 45 miles (4.5 laps) and thus having qualified for a silver medal, I was pleased we had averaged 20 mph. I had had enough. I looked for a SAG vehicle to take me back to my van. but I found none.

James Mortson and Rich McAfee

I started to walk. As I walked I thought about where I was going. Back to the van. And back in the van was — a spare wheel. I did a quick time calculation. If I ran to the van and made a quick wheel change, I could get back on course and finish the six laps in the required three hours and earn a gold medal. I took off my cleated shoes and ran barefoot to the van.

Back on course I rode the last 1.5 laps at 18.7 mph, solo. On the last lap I probably passed 100 cyclists and got passed but no one. Well, not technically true. I cramped in the hamstring with two miles to go and while soft pedaling someone passed me. Once I learned how to not make it worse, I pedaled by him.

I came in, picked up my medal, and had time to reflect.

I wore my FUCANCER kit today. Perhaps any other kit and I would have accepted my fate that a flat that ended my day. But when you represent FUCANCER you do not quit.

The first 45 miles until the flat.

June 4, 2012July 23, 2015

Bats in the Belfry

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

Yesterday, on my way from Virginia to Punxsutawney, Pa., for a wedding, I stopped at the Logan Valley Mall for a “quick” ride up the mountain. I always love the climb and it’s always just enough to make me wonder if I will have to dismount and walk.

A wonderful surprise was new blacktop. This is so much better than three years ago when in September they put down a chip and tar surface. It was treacherous descending in all that loose gravel. But today was fresh blacktop. Sweet!

A bit chilly, 66 degrees, and I could have used arm warmers at the top, but didn’t have time to contemplate my choice. At the top I rode one mile to make sure I had 10 miles in so I could hit 20 on the round trip. Then I decided that it was shorter going back to turn around and ride that great black top than to continue over to Sugar Run Road. I don’t know if it was or not.

Beautiful road surface and still going UP
Glenwhite Road

But I had a nice descent. It was 55 minutes up and 16 minutes down.

I was able to come back today. For more.

Mid 50s and overcast at the start. Wheels down at 10:00 a.m. with a forecast of 70% chance of rain by 1:00 p.m. I wasn’t sure that I would want to do the long route (70 miles) that I planned and would play it by ear.

My Garmin was finicky. Although I had mapped out a “Three Church Ride,” it seemingly wasn’t calling out the turns for me so I was left to guess. Instead of climbing to the top of Frankstown Road via some neighborhood streets I found Garmin routing me around the mountain. Maybe it was smarter than me after all.

Canoe Creek Church

I rode out Scotch Valley Road and followed the signs to Canoe Creek State Park. Seeing an old church and cemetery I almost kept pedaling but the building next door, a garage, caught my eye with its handicapped parking. Out in the country, a country garage, and there was a handicapped spot.

That didn’t make a lot of sense to me unless this was a location people came to. And it was.

The church was the former Canoe Creek United Methodist Church.

In 1958 my father followed his calling to enter the ministry and as a student pastor was assigned to East Freedom with a three church charge. Canoe Creek, then Evangelical United Brethren Church (E.U.B.), was one of those three churches.

No longer an active church, it has been taken over by up to 20,000 bats. And people come here in the evenings to watch the bats.

Getting back on the road I saw a couple of cyclists go through the intersection I was approaching. After turning back onto Scotch Valley road I could see four cyclists riding about 300 meters in front of me. I tried to bridge to them.

As the line of four went up a hill, I caught them as one, Sean, who was on his first ride coming off shoulder surgery, was dropping back. We briefly continued as four and I wondered how long it would be before they realized they had four but it wasn’t the same four.

Sean and Anna

I started rolling with them then introduced myself. All kitted up in green of the Spokes N Skis shop, I met Bryan, Anna, Richard, and Sean.* Finding myself next to Anna I asked her how far they were going and she said they were 10 miles into a 30-mile loop returning to Hollidaysburg.

Perfect. For me.

I decided to ride with them and they were great hosts. They showed me the foot of Locke Mountain Road while we stayed in the valley. Bryan offered to show me the roads to my mapped out route but I told him the roads will always be here – I’d rather stay with the riders today. And we did.

Bryan

Bryan and I chatted, as did Rich and I, and I told them how much I love riding in Altoona. I even reminisced about riding three years ago while battling cancer. Although at first I couldn’t remember all the names, I mentioned the Stacy as one of the riders I met. Joel and Richard were the other two riders. Bryan couldn’t recall a Stacy.

Our formal ride of four, or five to include me, ended at Hollidaysburg. I said goodbye to Bryan and Anna, who will be married on September 15, then Richard and I pedaled on towards Altoona. Once back at the Mall where I parked I decided I could squeeze in a mountain ride too and headed up Sugar Run Road for another 19 miles.

Richard and Anna

On my descent down the new blacktop of Glenwhite Road, I hit 48.5 mph but was disappointed I did not reach 50 mph. This one is a little tricky. You can fly coming down off the Wall but there is a curve of which you cannot see the transition. The mind says to brake but I have been through this before and know I can lean through it.

I braked.

Just a touch. But that was just enough I’m sure to keep me from doing 50. I have to try again.

___
*Bryan Caporuscio, Anna Gauriloff, and Richard Fiore.

EPILOGUE – After returning home, Bryan remembered Stacy — Richard’s wife. He liked that I love the roads around Altoona and that I love to ride. He also stated that Stacy always wondered what happened to that guy with cancer who encouraged her while climbing up the wall in August, 2009, and was quite please I joined their group ride.

May 29, 2012August 31, 2020

Wishing I Could Go

MANASSAS, VIRGINIA

Patrick Sheridan said they would have wheels down at 6:30 a.m. which I thought was too early after a long and hot first day. But the forecast was for another 90° day.

I drove to Nottoway Park in Vienna where I parked then biked to the W&OD and smoked it hoping to meet the cancer group coming up from Alexandria. I reached the end of the W&OD and continued on the Four Mile Run Trail. At a difficult-to-determine intersection, I came upon what looked like 20 riders, all holding cue sheets, discussing which way to go. And some already decided to go straight – which was the wrong way.

I pulled up and said, “can you guys make it all the way to San Francisco without me giving you turn by turn directions?”

I heard someone, I think it was Chris, yell out “Barry!”

Since I rode with four riders yesterday, most in the group did not know me although I did say goodbye to a number of them in Alexandria the day before.

They were glad to see me and quickly decided which group should follow me. Five or six of us headed up the trail to the W&OD. I was talking with a rider from Dallas, Michael Wray.

As we made our way up the trail I asked where Patrick was. I was told he was “way out in front.” Uh, no he wasn’t. Since I had come down the trail I knew who was out in front – nobody.

They decided which group would follow me — even on trails they stayed true to riding in small groups rather than all 30 riding as one — and we took off up the trail. As I made my way up the trail I was asked to slow down. Repeatedly. My response was simply to ask them if they knew how a bunch of 20-something guys asking an old rider like me to slow down really stroked my ego?

Even better was the journal account of Stephanie Ausfresser.

“At the beginning we rode a trail for miles. When a fork in the trail
came and we didn’t know which way to go, Barry, Patrick’s pedal pal
found us and pointed us in the right direction. He rode with us for the
first two days. He was so strong and fast, I was pushing just to keep
up. We made a line to follow each other and break the wind. Even though
it was mostly flat, we were going about 16-18 mph.”

I guided our first group to Nottoway Park then went back to find the others, eventually leading all groups there. Patrick’s group had been first on the trail but missed the Four Mile Run turn and by the time they doubled back, they were last. So I rode with them from Vienna through Fairfax before saying goodbye and riding back to my van.

Checking a text before riding 3900 more miles

I took the long way home through Manassas and there I saw the riders again, far off course. I laughed and directed them back on course. I stopped at a Sheetz and bought 30 hot dogs and found their rest stop. The hot dogs were well received.

But this time I had to say goodbye for good. I had to referee a regional high school soccer match at 5:00 p.m. And some asked me to ride with them. I so wanted to.

I left Patrick’s group with my words of wisdom for them. They are too young.

Too young to really appreciate the good of what they are doing. They will look back in 30 years and say “I did what?” While for some this is a (biking) adventure of a lifetime, it is so much more important than that. We survivors can never thank them enough for what they are doing to raise awareness and, yes, funds. They really do make a difference. Godspeed my friends.

This day and this ride have made me want to retire. Not on the spot and ride with them, although that would be nice. But I want to retire from my job and move on to a place that will make a difference in people’s lives. I would like to elevate my cancer-fighting game like they are doing for 70 days.

May 19, 2012July 23, 2015

Bike to Work Day

FALLS CHURCH, VA

It was Bike to Work Day and a gorgeous one at that. Chilly, and low 50s to start, but after 10 minutes of riding I quickly was comfortable and wasn’t cursing my decision not to wear arm warmers. Rather than navigate that mess known as Minnieville Road, I drove the van to the commuter lot so that I could take the lightly traveled Telegraph Road instead.

My route would take me down Tanyard Hill Road into Occoquan and across the pedestrian bridge that spans the Occquan River. Then Ox Road (123) to Lee Chapel, Burke Lake Rd., Lake Braddock, Olley Dr., Guinea Rd., some exploring a shortcut which never materialized, then Prosperity Rd. to Gallows Rd. then hooking up with the Washington & Old Dominion trail.

One of the joys of biking is traveling the road less traveled. I bet thousands if commuters travel through or by Occoquan each day without realizing a bridge exists for cyclists. And walkers.

Crossing the Occoquan River. By bike.

At Gallows Road I stopped at a Bike to Work pit stop for my free T-shirt then continued on. In Falls Church I stopped at their lively pit stop. The police officer on duty was Jimmy Brooks, a friend of mine.

Officer Brooks

It was fun seeing Jimmy and he made sure that I knew the ABC’s of cycling. A is for air pressure. B is for brakes. C is for crank (or drive train). He said I passed.

From there I followed the Custis Trail to Rosslyn retracing my ride of three years ago. But I didn’t crash.

In Washington D.C. I rode by the Washington Monument, even diverting to go through some water sprinklers. It felt good.

My route home was a little different. I followed the Mount Vernon Trail to Four Mile Run to the W&OD. On the Four Mile Run Trail I was about to announce my presence passing a woman, who wasn’t wearing a helmet, when I got a puff. Of her cigarette smoke.

Rather than pass I slowed down and heard a “ding-ding” of a bell from a rider behind me who wanted to pass. I said “you’ve got to be kidding me.” I was thinking out loud why I should warn this woman about me about to overtake her when someone needed to warn her about the effects of smoking.

The guy behind me heard me and started to apologize for ringing his bell. I laughed. I told him what I was thinking and he agreed with me.

Barry with Officer Brooks

Officer Brooks invited me back on my return trip which was fun. Music, smoothies, ice cream, and a slow rider contest which was going slow without put a foot down. I won my heat.

W&OD

After leaving the W&OD at Gallows Road it was then a matter of riding home. The legs felt good. Some days when biking home from work the legs start to hurt after 30 miles but today, after 70, the legs still felt good. It was the best 77.77 miles I have felt on a bike but maybe that’s because I rode slow for BTWD.

But road rage???? In more than 2,000 miles of riding this year I have been honked or yelled at three times. Today? Four. All in Fairfax County. Wow. Somebody who was stuck in a car was grumpy today. Jealous.