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A Quest for 50

PAVIA, PENNSYLVANIA

Back on roads safely away from vicious man and dog-eating dogs, I decided I would try to hit 50 mph today. On US Rte 30, two miles west of Stoystown, Pa. is an awesome steep hill which is straight as an arrow, hits a dip in the bottom and goes straight up the other side. In other words, a perfect hill to gain speed. No worries about curves or stopping.

US Rte 30 looking east. The grade is longer on this side but steeper on the other side.

I parked at the bottom of the hill and started my one mile ascent up the 7% grade. Much of this climb was 10-11% but there is a 5-6% section in the middle which brings the average down.

At the top I turned around, put the bike in the big gear, and pedaled as fast as I could. I got in my aero tuck and watched the speedometer creep up – to just 45 mph. I was disappointed.

I rode through the dip at the bottom of the hill and began my climb up the other side. The total climb was 0.7 mile but the steepest section was near the bottom – the last 0.4 mile. In this section the road averaged 10% grade.

Though I went all the way to the top and turned around to try it again, my speed didn’t really creep up until I hit the bottom ramp. My Trek computer had me at 49.2. Close, but not quite 50. I will have to try again next week.

After a few minutes, I decided I would head over to Altoona, mainly to ride Horseshoe Curve. But when I reached Summerhill (yesterday, by bike) and saw the sign for Blue Knob State Park, I decided to follow the sign.

I parked at the park entrance and began the 4.5 mile climb to the summit. Many sections were hitting 14-15% and 16% in the last section. It was a nice workout.


There are no roads like Mount Washington but climbs like Blue Knob are helpful. Glad I came back, even if for a day.

Garmin Map and Stats – Rte 30

Garmin Map and Stats – Blue Knob

UPDATE: There will be no try next week. I have changed the gearing on my bike to ready myself for Mount Washington and have removed the “big ring” necessary to hit top speed.

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Saved by Biscuit

PUNXSUTAWNEY, PA

Today was the STATES family reunion in Canoe, Twp., Indiana Co., Pa., near Punxsutawney. I had hoped to leave my parents’ place near Somerset and bike 75 miles to the reunion while they drove there. And I hoped to beat them there. That would not happen.

The temperature was 56 degrees (13 C) when I left. The ride was uneventful until I reached Johnstown. I had planned to follow Rte 271 through Johnstown for about 25 miles so you would think I could stay on it without a cue sheet for more than one mile. You would be wrong.

I went through Franklin borough just outside Johnstown and was barely paying attention to the signs when I briefly saw one which stated TRUCK ROUTE 271. At first I followed it but then doubled back to double check the sign. And it was clearly marked “truck route.”

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It is marked TRUCK ROUTE, no?

 

To my thinking, this was the truck route which was longer and not as steep as the regular route. You’d think. You’d be wrong.

So I went straight instead of turning and I immediately began a real nice three-mile climb and did not regret following this route. Until I reached South Fork, that is. Then I knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

I found two guys who were “railfans” alongside the tracks with their huge cameras. One was from New Jersey. The other was from Vermont. Nice guys but they certainly couldn’t help me.

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Rail fans from the Northeast come here to take pictures

 

I found directional help in the form of a man at a gas station. He had to think about how to help get me back to Rte 271 then discounted a road because it had a “big hill.” He said no bike could get up it. I told him the bigger the better. So he sent me that route. He was right (about big hill but wrong about being able to ride up it). I enjoyed every minute of the climb. I also called my mother and told her not to worry if I wasn’t at the reunion within an hour or two after they arrive because I went far out of my way.

Biscuit03

 

Once back on course I stopped for a brief break at Duman Lake County Park near Ebensburg. After the break I made it to Nicktown then paused to read my cue sheet. I remembered I could turn right and end up in Northern Cambria where I could refill my water bottles – now empty. But my cue sheet, which I made, had me turn left. I turned left then made a right turn in half a mile.

 

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Duman Lake Park near Ebensburg

As I approached Marsteller I spotted two huge Rottweilers ahead and fast approaching. I stopped and immediately dismounted. I turned my body to hold my bike between the dogs and myself. And they came right at me.

Not a photo of the actual dog – they were meaner looking
I figured I had little chance against one dog. And my odds dropped to zero against two of them. I was successful in holding one at bay but the second one could see my trick and was about to go around my bike and greet me from the back side.

I’m holding a carbon fiber bike. Lightweight and expensive although the cost meant nothing. In an instant I wish I was on a $100 steel bike. Or at least aluminum. I figured my only chance was to swing the bike wildly. It was a stupid plan.

There was a car parked a little behind me. I thought maybe I could quickly climb onto the hood then maybe the roof. But what happened next was too fast to accurately recall.

A tiny terrier in the lawn next to me came running out of his yard right to the two huge dogs. They immediately lost interest in me and saw a furry meal instead. The little gal let out a yelp – a big yelp from a little dog – and somehow she got away. I thought she would be mangled to death. Its owner quickly appeared and with the two of us there, and perhaps confused over what just happened, the Rottweilers scurried away. I really don’t remember why they left or where they went.

During the 60 seconds or so I was scared to death but outwardly calm. I tried to talk to the dogs but did not appear aggressive, other than keeping my bike between us, nor did I try to flee. And I kept my eyes on them, never turning my back, which is why I never saw the terrier who came to my rescue.
I am convinced that that little terrier came out of her lawn to protect me. I also believe that had she not appeared that I would have been hurting pretty bad tonight. I like dogs. It is a shame that some people don’t train or control theirs.
I was shaken. I got back on my bike and rode away, not fully comprehending what occurred nor expressing enough gratitude to the dog’s owner for what the terrier did for me.
I have a chance to ride this route again next Saturday but not sure I want to ride past this stretch of road again. I may elect to drive instead, stopping to thank the owner properly.
I reached Cherry Tree, Pa. and found a country store to refill my bottles. As is my custom, my bike and I went inside the store and no one questioned me.
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My bike inside the store
The last 20 miles of my day were trying on me. These are real country roads with few houses and a lot of farms. Many folks own dogs, big dogs, and allow them to roam freely. I was on edge the rest of the ride.
At the end of the day I had ridden 90 miles, climbed more than 8,000 vertical feet, and narrowly avoided one nasty mauling.
UPDATE: SUNDAY AUGUST 15, 2010 
Yesterday I biked the same route to my LOWMASTER reunion except that I avoided this stretch of road because of the dog experience.
Today I drove 50 miles, one way, from my parents’ house in Somerset, Pa. I carried two bags of doggie treats. My quest: To meet the owners and thank the dog.
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Gabby Pizur and Biscuit

I took two bags of doggie treats to Biscuit, a 3-year old Yorshire terrier. The family was glad to meet me and wanted to thank ME for saving their dog. That is not what happened.

I explained that I was the one in trouble and their dog bounded over the 18″ – 24″ retaining wall from their lawn right into these two Rottweilers that had me cornered. I believe Biscuit acted only because she saw me, a total stranger, in great trouble with these dogs.

 _________________________________
UPDATE FRIDAY AUGUST 27 – I did a phone interview with Ashley Watt, a newspaper reporter for the local newspaper in Ebensburg or Northern Cambria. I thought the focus was on Biscuit, the Yorkie, who saved my butt/life. I don’t know when or where it was published but a magazine called Punxsutawney Hometown, picked up the story for their October issue. Pretty embarassing. They called me a “former Punxsy resident.” (I was born in Punxsy but I’m not from Punxsy.)

 

Map and Stats for August 7 (from Ride with GPS.com)

Map and Stats for August 14 (from Ride with GPS.com)

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Paris

PARIS, FRANCE


Paris. The city of lights.

Another early morning wake up call. I slept in until 5:15 a.m. One thing about this Trek Travel tour is that we were kept moving with little down time. Although we had one lunch and a couple of dinners “on our own” it was nice to have some private time or grab something quick and not have a group dinner that lasted at least two to three hours.

We boarded the bus at 6:00 a.m. for transport to the train station. It was a private train and it was very long. Breakfast was served by Trek Travel staff – quiche and a chocolate croissant plus orange juice and coffee. Ed Karrels had his Garmin out and at one point we were doing 300 kph – about 200 mph. The major differences I saw compared to Amtrak in the Northeast Corridor was that there was no rocking back and forth, no clickity clack of the train on the tracks and the bathrooms did not smell of urine. It was one place you could pee for free in France.

Train Station in Bordeaux

We arrived the train station and it was immediately noticeable that Paris was more “English-friendly” than Toulouse, St. Lary, Lourdes, or Bordeaux. Most signage had English here as well. That was not the case last night when I went out in Bordeaux and found a place to eat. The menu was only in French and the waitress spoke less English than I spoke French – which is only a few phrases or words. But we managed.

We boarded a bus from the train station that took us to within three blocks of our hotel then we walked the rest of the way. The street was too narrow for the bus to maneuver the turns. After storing our luggage at the hotel, we walked 5-6 blocks over to the Automobile Club of France. I need to find out more about this “club” but we were told this is the one day a year women are permitted in the club. No jeans. No shorts. I always envisioned this is the AAA of France. Guess not.

We had to go through security as we got to the block in which the club is located. Then we passed through a second point and finally, once inside the building, a third check. It is a stately building with wonderful balconies over looking the Champs-Eslysses.

Automobile Club of France

Today is the day Ashley joined me. Her plane was delayed four hours so she did not arrive Paris until 1:30 and then had to make her way downtown. At the worst possible time. But she had met a couple from Tucson, Arizona on the flight and they had hired a private car to take them from the airport to their hotel. As it turned out, their hotel was right across the street from our hotel. I had left the club and gone back to the hotel to wait for her.

After Ashley arrived we went to the viewing at the Automobile Club. We jockeyed around trying to see if being at ground level, the outside balconies, or the higher floor windows offered the best view. We ultimately settled on the highest view and then watched the big screen TV coverage of the final lap.

Ashley, Barry

While we were on the balcony, one of the riders in our group, Paul Sommer, asked me to take his picture, framed with the Eiffel Tower in the background. As I was, a woman and her child just cut through the picture. We politely asked them to hold up for a second and they did. As it turned out, it was Johan Bruyneel’s wife and daughter.

Megan Elliott (middle), Chris Horner, Johan Bruyneel

After the race we went down to the Radio Shack team bus. We waited, along with many other people, to get one last glimpse of Lance Armstrong participating in his final Tour de France. I passed my copy of Johan’s book up to Hollie and Dave Eenigenberg who got him to sign it. But, unlike some in our group, we didn’t go through the rope line and get a picture with Lance, Chris Horner, or Levi Leipheimer.

After returning to the hotel we went to the final event – a dinner cruise on the River Seine. A long day, especially for Ashley, who didn’t get to bed until midnight after flying in from the U.S.

Front (beginning with woman in brown dress): Stephanie Chapman (guide), Susan Alexander, Scott Spector (kneeling), Anne Mader, Donna Thackrey, Dave Edwards (Guide, kneeling)

Middle (beginning with woman in white dress): Marquette Kelly (guide), Hollie Eenigenburg, Aimee Cutright, Deirdre Mullaly, Debbie Jaudon, Todd Mader, Nancy Karrels, Ed Karrels (with arm around Nancy), Barry Sherry, David Thackrey, Paul Sommer, Nicole Kimborowicz (guide)

Back: Dean Cobble, Burt Piper, Peter Pellicano, David Eenigenburg, Tom Michaud, Deron Cutright, Richard (Rich) McCrea, Mike Bandemer, Matthew McDonald, Dennis McDonald
Missing: James Hartzberg

Barry and Ashley atop the Eiffel Tower
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Madrid – The First Leg of my TdF Trip

MADRID, SPAIN

I arrived at Dulles and was able to use the American Airlines Admirals Club while I waited for two hours. Maybe real Admirals get better benefits but one complimentary 8 oz. drink? Pretty cheap. And the Internet wasn’t complimentary although one of the staff passed me a super secret code. But the water was free and ice cold. I simply snacked on a pretzel mix until it was time to depart. Money spent at Dulles: $0.

Not quite sure I understand the airlines that have Business Class instead of First Class. On this Iberia Airbus 340 they only had Business Class and it certainly rivaled the First Class I previously flown on American Airlines but not quite to that of Swiss Air. Perhaps this one exception. While it appeared the seats could recline into a full 180 degrees, flat, horizontal position, they didn’t. They “only” reclined to 170 degrees (true). But the difference was pretty much negligible.

After takeoff, we were served dinner, even though we didn’t get airborne until after 9:15 p.m. I chose the beef tips which came with the absolute most delicious Au Gratin potatoes I have ever eaten. If a Spanish airline makes a French dish taste so delicious I can’t wait until I try those in France.

As soon as the meal ended I put on my sleeping mask, reclined, and did my best to sleep. I did OK. I’m not going to venture a guess on how long I slept but it was enough. There were two stretches of pretty rough air where it was pretty difficult to sleep through but thankfully the captain never came on and made a glaring announcement that we were traveling through some bumpy air.

At baggage claim I saw a young boy wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers #43 (Troy Polomalu) jersey. I assumed he was from Pittsburgh. He wasn’t. He and his dad are Spaniards. But he likes the way Troy looks. And he posed for me. Steelers Nation is global. 

I caught a shuttle to the Madrid Airport Hilton, checked in, then walked 15-20 minutes to find a Metro to downtown. Cost was one Euro.

The historic downtown area is beautiful. Some streets are pedestrian-only and some streets are covered with a mesh tarp (don’t know what to call it) to protect the people from the sun. Even the streets that have traffic have very little in this area. 

I don’t have any pictures but many women carried the folded fans in which to fan themselves. I found a FedEx-Kinkos which offered an Internet Cafe for two Euros for 30 minutes. I logged on and sent my family a message telling them I arrived.

I was going to do the open-air bus tour but by the end of the day, I had walked to most places where the bus stops. A one Euro Metro fare back and manager’s reception (aka dinner) at the hotel. Cost spent in Madrid: 4 Euro (I had prepaid for the hotel in January…)

Tomorrow: Toulouse, France. Things have to get more expensive.

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Onward to Charles Town

CHARLES TOWN, WV

The last time I rode this route was Father’s Day one year ago. Today’s ride was uneventful. I stopped a lot to take pictures. That killed any average speed I had going.

It was hot. It hit 99 or 100 in D.C.

Cyclist on Pr. Wm. Parkway Bike Path

On the bike path near Manassas there was a couple walking two large retrievers — one a black Lab and the other a Golden. If they had been paying attention they would have seen me coming and made sure I could get by safely at speed. Instead I had to slow to almost a stop. I was nice, thanked them, and then regretted that I didn’t dismount and take a picture. I know, they killed my momentum so I should at least take a picture.

 My route took me on Sudley Road through Manassas and past the Manassas Battlefield.  


Manassas Battlefield Park

The dirt portion of Braddock Road in Loudoun County was worse than I remembered. I am thinking that they recently put down more gravel. There was no place to find a track in which to ride. I was “greeted” by two large dogs. Maybe it was too hot for them to give serious chase. I talked to them while maintaining my slow speed and they never became aggressive.

 Braddock Road, Loudoun Co., Va.

As I rode along I was going slower and slower and felt my rear tire become sluggish. I pulled over to change a flat and then was delighted to see that I didn’t have a flat — it really was that crappy to ride in.

Snapping Turtle on Braddock Road

Once I reached the far end of Braddock Road I flew passed a huge turtle in the middle of the road. I turned around, at first wanting to move it to safety. But I soon decided it could protect itself better than I could.

Country Store in Airmont – A Cyclist’s Oasis

My only stop was at Airmont for a bottle of PowerAde, bottle of water, and a Milky Way candy bar (they were out of Snickers).

Barn on Rte 9

The climb over the Blue Ridge on Rte 9 was uneventful. However, my wife and son passed me, while I was hugging the shoulder, and NEVER SAW ME!!!! I will die on the road some day by motorists who somehow manage to pass cyclists without seeing them.

Jefferson Co., WV

Comparing my stats to last year the biggest difference is in heart rate. Last year I averaged 132 bpm and hit 160+ on a couple of the climbs. Yesterday I averaged 122 bpm and went to 150. I want to believe that I am more fit than last year and I should be. Last year I was battling an e.Coli infection for weeks which led to the diagnosis of cancer. Well, at least that’s gone.

Shenandoah River

Garmin Map and Stats

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Air Force Cycling Classic

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Strange day. Almost one of those if it can go wrong it will go wrong days.

There was a two-day cycling event in town. The second day was the Air Force Cycling Classic but featured an open ride before the pros raced. The course was closed to traffic. It was a 12.5 km course that goes around the Pentagon and climbs up to the Air Force Memorial.


It is open to anyone which meant rider beware. Especially in the first couple of laps it was dangerous passing or following anyone.

They offered a bronze medal for anyone who could complete two laps; a silver for four laps; and a gold medal for 8 laps (100 km or 62 miles) within the 3:30 time limit.

Last week I put out a feeler to see if anyone I knew was riding it. I wanted to get in a group because I was reasonably sure I could average 18 mph in a group; the speed necessary to make the cutoff time. On the other hand, only one time had I ever averaged over 18 mph on my own — that was an 8.5-mile “time trial” just to see what I could do going all out. I averaged 19.3 mph.

No one responded although I was told that it’s easy to hook up with other riders. I went to bed last night thinking about it. Registration opened at 6:00 a.m. and I wanted to get there early.

I cleaned my rear cassettes (two rear wheels) then went to bed. When the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. I decided I would go for it. I got ready to go, put my “race lite” wheels on, and found the gears didn’t work. I fiddled with the bike for 15 minutes before taking the cassette from one wheel and moving it over to the other wheel.

I headed off to Arlington, parked the van, jumped on the bike, and rode to registration. It was hot, high 80s although it reached 94º (35º C) during the day, and realized I forgot my Chamois Butt’r to lather up with (prevents chafing). I got to registration and they only accepted cash. Feeling that it wasn’t my day, I decided to leave. But on the way out I passed an ATM, grabbed some cash, and decided to go back and register.

Having run out of fuel at Mountains of Misery, I decided I would carry everything I needed. Or try to. I grabbed four packets of gel, Power Bar’s Strawberry-Banana — one for every two laps. I put two water bottles on my bike and carried my Tour de France bottle in a back pocket.

It was a slow-starting roll-out. I was pretty far back. I missed any organization at the front. Most of the first lap was carefully maneuvering around some very slow and very unsure riders. “On your left” or “on your right” didn’t seem to register with a lot of these folks. Just smile when you go by.

The route went out past the Pentagon and up to the Air Force Memorial. I flew by a lot of riders climbing the road up to the memorial. On the descent, I hit 35 mph and soon was behind a rider on S. Washington Blvd. He had just taken a drink from his bottle and seemingly fumbled as he tried to put it back in the cage. He wobbled once and I saw him put a foot down in front of me. At 35 mph. Oh boy.

Sparks flew from his shoe and then he veered sharply to the left. Thank god — my line was to his right. In less than a second, he went from upright to roadkill. Well, almost. He went down hard. Very hard. Thankfully he didn’t take anyone down with him. Pretty sure he was met by an ambulance.

I completed the first lap then briefly found two guys from James Madison University and rode with them a little on Lap 2. How or why I could drop them, I don’t know, but I did. They disappeared behind me.

I went through the second lap at 46 minutes total and knew I was looking at 23-24 minutes a lap. I quickly did the math — just about 3:04 — well within the 3:30 cutoff. I also figured I might lose some of that due to the heat.

Basically, I went through Laps 3-7 with no issues. They did have water on the course near the start line in which they handed the bottles to you as you flew by. It was a professional feed zone if you were willing. I never had to stop to take on a drink. I took one PowerAde and one water. Different laps.

I lost my Tour de France bottle at the end of Washington Blvd when it fell out of my jersey. I slipped it on the outside of the pocket underneath my race bib which is why it came loose. I didn’t stop for it and quickly figured I would pick it up on the next lap. Well, someone got a souvenir. The bottle was gone when I returned 23 minutes later.

I went through Lap 7 and my time was 2:45. At 25 min I knew I would be in at 3:10 but I also knew I could take an unheard of 45 minutes to finish Lap 8 and still finish under 3:30.

I held my line and finished it in 25 minutes. The race announcer told us we could take a 9th lap. Thanks but no thanks.

I discovered they ran out of gold medals, the prize for finishing eight laps in less than 3:30. Oh well, they took my name and said they would mail me one. Not sure why I really want one but gave them my name anyhow.

I went hoping, and even doubting a little, that I could average 18 mph on a hot day. I knew if I found the right group to ride with that I could but I missed the big groups upfront and didn’t see anything forming at the back where I was. Nor did it make a lot of sense to “sit up” and wait for the big groups to lap me. I would be giving away 23 minutes that way.

So I basically rode solo the entire day. And I was rewarded not only with making my goal of 18 mph but riding faster than I have ever ridden over distance before. I averaged 19.73. Rounded, I can call it 20 mph, on a very hot day where I did not put a foot down the entire time. It was a very satisfying day!

After the race I was parched. I went looking for water and didn’t find any. I heard they ran out which is understandable on a day so hot. I elected to ride back to the van and leave – simply to find a store and get some water.

I had a soccer tournament in Woodbridge at 1:00 p.m. and wanted to get there so it was a good time to leave. But I missed the mens’ pro race. I would have liked to have stayed and watched it and said hello afterward to Phil Gaimon. But I missed Phil and all the men racing simply to stay alive.

The Air Force Cycling Classic is a neat event and a tune-up to the Nature’s Valley Grand Prix. Whether I ride the people’s ride again remains to be seen but I will have to add it to my spectating calendar for next year.

And continues to go wrong…

Tuesday, June 15 — A few minutes ago they posted the “official” times for the ride. I was listed as having completed just two laps. The first in 22 minutes and the second in 67 minutes. Geez! Can’t say that I’m impressed by their timing mechanisms. I sent them my Garmin data and will wait to see if they correct the record or if I would even consider riding this event again.

The website listing shows 1,023 riders and I was listed 999th. The listing is first by number of laps and then time to complete the laps. Since I was recorded as two laps and took more than one hour to complete the second one, well…

No one asked me but I think the problem came in where I wore the timing chip. After I was handed my bib I was instructed to remove the timing strip and place it on my shoe. But when the very nice volunteer saw my Louis Garneau shoes she wondered how to attach it. Then she said, “well, you can leave it on the back of your bib.” She made sure it was in place and off I rode. I have a feeling that the tracking mechanism is aimed at knee level and lower thus it only picked up two of my eight passes through the checkpoint.

I received an email on Wednesday informing me that the website would be changed. My actual time, verified by satellite mapping on my Garmin, was 3:09:55 or 3:10:14 – the 19 seconds difference being when I started Garmin as opposed to when I actually started moving. That moves my listing up to 85th – a top 10% finish.

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Dirty Dancing on the Pedals

NEWPORT, VIRGINIA

I came to the Mountains of Misery for three reasons. First was to continue to build my base for my trip this summer to the Tour de France. Second was to test new methods to keep from cramping since my previous attempts at similar courses with the Blue Ridge Extreme Challenge ended up with cramps in my calves. And third was simply to enjoy my Breakaway From Cancer and enjoy a great day on the bike.

It was a semi-mass start. Riders left the Newport Recreation Center in waves of 50, departing every two minutes. I slipped into the third wave and soon joined up with Paul Spencer and Klara Vrady.  

Rolling out from the start in Newport

Since I was determined to ride the first third slow and Klara said they would be riding slow, it was a perfect match.

The route was a very lightly traveled route, made all the more amazing when at the end of the day that was how Garmin sent me home. These were great roads for biking but not so great for a 15-passenger van. What was Garmin thinking?

The hardest thing to do was to go slow. I was following my own advice to go slow in the first third but it was tempting every two minutes or so when a new train of riders caught us and went by. I knew I could jump into any of the groups but I didn’t want to burn up the course. I wanted to relax, have fun, and save something for the last climb of the day.

We blew by the first rest stop which was at the bottom of a descent. When you’re flying who wants to brake? But the organizers have to take what space is allocated to them to set up on our behalf even it it is at the bottom of a hill.

The first 24 miles were basically rollers with a sight climb – 700 feet. That was followed by a 5-mile steep and windy descent which was a pleasant surprise. Thank goodness a volunteer was on a curve urging people to slow down. It was quite technical and I probably would have over cooked the turn. Three ambulances were on their way up the mountain and you get a lump in your throat passing them although I heard it was a car, and not a cyclist, that went off the hill.

The first rest area we stopped at was in New Castle. It had the most port-a-johns and the biggest lines. Here I ran into Dennis McDonald and his son, Matt, who are both going to France this summer with my Trek Travel group. I also ran into Sean Walker.

Later on the road we ended up briefly meeting some younger riders from northern Va. who bought their bikes at The Bike Lane in Burke. I didn’t laugh out loud but one carried a fully loaded back pack. He didn’t know about support on this ride so he carried everything with him. But they were to soon leave us as they stopped at the next rest area and we powered on through.

At Mile 60 the first real climb began at John’s Creek Mountain in Jefferson National Forest. 

Sean Walker
Not Smiling Now

It was a 2.5 mile climb and a nice warm up. There were a few people walking but most were able to will themselves up the hill. On the Blue Ridge Extreme, Vesuvius, a five mile climb, was placed around mile 50, I had cramped and was pleased to know that I made it up this climb without a problem.

Gotta work on the climbing form

At mile 72 we turned a corner and a surreal moment occurred. That looked like my van parked in the woods. It was my van parked in the woods. I didn’t realize until I was past that we were back within 1/4 mile of the start and this is where I had parked. We started a 13 mile loop.

Strangest photo op, which I missed, was passing a house with a dinosaur skeleton on the porch. I should have stopped to shoot it. After the loop we rolled back into Newport at mile 86. After a brief rest stop to fill the water bottles it was the long journey up to the finish. After a bit of a climb it was a nice relaxed descent down to the New River before the real climbing would begin after 100 miles in the saddle.

Getting ready to cross the busy US 460, some volunteers had WATER! and Gummi bears. Mmmm.

Let the climb begin. The last four miles were up to Mountain Lake, which is where Dirty Dancing was filmed.

After 100 miles these legs could keep going on the flats but the climb was formidable. I checked Garmin at times and it was registering 12%. There was a sign at the base “4 Miles to Finish.” I know better at Mount Washington than to look up and here — I looked up.

It looked tough. It was 86 degrees and my sweat was bike dripping off the bike. As I came to one hairpin curve I noticed most of the riders who had passed me two miles earlier were all standing. I went by them. I continued up and there was a rest stop on a curve. I passed it too.

In retrospect, I shouldn’t have. I should have taken one last hydration and food opportunity but I don’t like stopping on big climbs once I am underway.

After 20-25 minutes I saw a sign up ahead and thought if it says “3 Miles to Go” I’m going to quit. It said “2 Miles to Go.”

I came to another sharp hairpin and made the fatal mistake — I looked up. All I could see were people stopped or walking their bikes. One guy had his shoes off and was walking. In his socks.

I was out of energy. The legs just wouldn’t turn over the pedals. They needed a rest. I dismounted for a couple hundred yards then got back on. I made it to the top and was only slightly disappointed that I had dismounted once. It was never one of my goals to stop or walk on the climb but I got thinking just how much having the surgery took out of me. I can still use that as an excuse a little while longer.

Paul Spencer and Klara Varady

I was most disappointed in my time. I had hoped for under 8 hours even though this was four miles further than a comparable century ride that I had done before. But when times were posted I could see that I was just below the 50% line. Some of these riders are mountain goats and young – I am neither. And I wonder how much surgery and being old, or both, took out of me.

Just two years ago I did the Blue Ridge Extreme Century and finished 3rd from the bottom. Wow. This was better. Much better.

And while my time was 8:48, I spent 73 minutes off the bike. If I had made my rest stops quicker, say 20 minutes total, my total time would have been under 8 hours. Something to think about if I do this ride again.

Here is the one reason I may not came at the end of the day. We were transported off the mountain in 15-passengers vans and we had the driver from hell. He gunned it down whatever straight section he could find, twice had a front tire go off the road, and braked hard into curves. It was a scary ride off the mountain and will keep me from participating again if this is normal. I didn’t defeat cancer only to lose my life in a van after a great day of riding.

EPILOGUE – After I got back I wrote to the event director because our ride down the mountain was so dangerous. They had contracted with the Boys Scouts, who were in charge of the transportation, and were shocked themselves. They had heard similar complaint from various sources. They will correct this problem. It was a great ride.


Also, one can ride back down the mountain which seems the way to go. No messing with transporting bikes. I waited at least another 30 minutes at Newport for my bike to come back down.

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Close Encounter of the Furry Kind

CHARLES TOWN, WEST VIRGINIA

Is there anything quite as scary as having a deer jump out in front of your car? Well, yes there is. Having a deer jump out in front of your bike.

Even if it wasn’t raining, the roads were wet from the hard overnight rain that fell. But I had gone one mile when the rain started to fall. Oh well. A ride in the rain is better than sitting on the sofa.

I followed Country Club Road to Flowing Springs and then to Job Corps Road. I was just getting some speed up and out of nowhere (actually it had to be out of somewhere) a deer jumped right in front of me. I was riding head down with my hands on the “hoods” and had no time to brake. Probably best. If I had panicked and touched the brakes on the wet roads I may have wiped out anyhow. Instead I steered through it. And let out a scream. A manly scream.

I think it missed it by less than six inches. What a scare! That was followed by an adrenalin rush.

What a scary moment. A lot of “what ifs”played through my mind including what if I had collided and crashed? And I remembered that I didn’t have my Road ID on these shoes nor was I carrying my Jimi Wallet with my ID in it. I might be sprawled along side this lightly traveled road, and if unconscious, no one would know who I was.

Surely the deer was scared too. It actually did not bolt straight across in front of me but took a jump forward in the direction I was traveling. I think its forward momentum made me avoid it.

Most of the rest of the ride was spent thinking about my near collision.

Railroad Bridge at Harpers Ferry

My three-state ride took me to Harpers Ferry, across the railroad bridge, to the C&O Canal Tow Path. And that brought back pleasant memories. The river was flowing high and the sounds of the white water along with the river smell was enjoyable.

Railroad Bridge at Harpers Ferry

I had to ride on the tow path for about 1/2 mile or so until I came to a foot bridge that crossed over the canal to Sandy Hook Road. I followed that to Brunswick then crossed the 340 Bridge into Virginia.

Potomac River looking down river at
US 340 bridge between Md. (left) and Va. (right)

I was in Virginia less than two miles then began the climb up Chestnut Hill Road. I know it to be 12% grade but Garmin showed 1%. Teasing me, I guess. Earlier I was on 340 on a 6-7% grade and it showed 44%. Even Garmin has a bad day.

I reached Route 9, followed it back to Cattrell Road and back to Bethany’s. Once I got over the scare of the close encounter of the furry kind I could sit back and relish my rainy 31 mile, three-state ride.

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Almost Meeting Lance

DAVIS, CALIFORNIA

Checking in, I was assigned at the “center of the intersection” of 2nd and B Street. I looked at the route map and saw that that was one block from the route in any direction. I was disappointed at first but Adam Bridge, the coordinator, called it a super location. And he was right.

It was right beside the USA Bicycling Hall of Fame and a block from the start line. But the location didn’t make it great – the assignment did. There were three sawhorse barriers and three traffic cones blocking the street. Our job, working with a security guy, “Mike,” from St. Louis, was not to allow any vehicles other than team vehicles to enter the street. We got to direct all the team buses, vans, and cars, except for Team Radio Shack, to park on this street.

USA Bicycling Hall of Fame

One by one we directed each team down the street until the street was full. Then we were done with one hour to go before the start of the race.

Davis is the self-proclaimed bicycling capital of the U.S. And not necessarily self-proclaimed. Bicycling magazine, the League of American Bicyclists, and maybe others have bestowed this upon the community. Bikes are everywhere. The city’s sign features a bike on either side.

But where are the helmets? Almost every rider I saw in Davis was forgetting the $39 piece of fiberglass that will help protect their head when they have the accident. While embracing the bike culture they seemingly snubbed their noses at protection. It was a little strange.

There were very few vendors set up in Davis which was disappointing. But we found the Radio Shack bus and decided to stand 5-6 deep watching for Lance Armstrong to come out. Around 10:30 he came out and was besieged with autograph seekers. There was a fenced barrier and people were orderly and I believe he signed everything handed to him.

Three-time defending champ, Levi Leipheimer

He got lost in the sea of people and disappeared, I’m guessing he went for a quick spin. Most of the crowd dissipated and we waited to see Levi Leiphiemer, Chris Horner, Johann Bruynell and others.

Three kids who didn’t get their chance to get an autograph were invited inside the security barrier by someone with Team Radio Shack and stood outside the bus door when Lance came back from his quick spin. After a minute or so, the door opened and the three of them went in the bus. They came out a couple of minutes later wearing autographed Team Radio Shack hats and grins from ear to ear.

Lance – No telephoto lens needed

There was only a few minutes before start time when Lance came out the second time. No one could blame him for dismissing everyone because he had to go but he again walked the line signing anything put before him. I gave him my Ride Against Cancer card and asked him to carry that with him today. He obviously knew that it would get soaked and destroyed so he handed to an assistant, probably with instructions to make a sizable donation to the cause (he writes, tongue in cheek).

Lance then left, made it to the start, and we had a few minutes left. The gun went off and the peloton did a ceremonial neutralized lap and came back through the start chute. Then they were off. And I was ready to say goodbye to the Tour of California for another year.

The first four years the ATOC was held in February. But last year featured a week of cold, windy, rainy weather and they moved the race to avoid cold, windy, rainy weather. But in Davis it was overcast and 60 degrees with a forecast of rain.

I also came to California to go riding and was initially headed to San Francisco. But as I drove the weather got worse. I was driving into continual rain and the temperature dropped. No need for me to be riding in that. My next trip across the Golden Gate Bridge would have to wait for another time.

I had previewed the stage but really didn’t know where it was going. I remembered Yountville and entered that into the Garmin. When I reached Yountville I continued and thought they would head up Oakville Grade Road. I was hoping I would see it and figured I would come up to an intersection heavily paroled by the California Highway Patrol. And I did.

I turned left on the mountain road and immediately started climbing in the car. Wipers on, it was cold and rainy here. I surveyed a place to pull over and didn’t see any. Everywhere I saw a pull-off it was already taken by other vehicles.

I passed the third King of the Mountains check point on Oakville Grade Road and knew there was a descent and another KOM up ahead. I was one kilometer from the summit of the second KOM on Trinity Road when I saw a driveway to a gated house. I parked the car in the driveway. The police were shutting down the road so even if the owner wanted out they weren’t going anywhere.

Besides, I was beside another car which had parked there. Its owner came back and we talked for about 20 minutes before hearing the “whoop” of a distant police siren. My friend, a former Belgian cyclist now living in Vegas was following the Tour every day. We talked about cycling but also about Floyd Landis. He was adamant that Floyd was clean and the French set him up, not wanting another American to win. Interesting.

Once the police started coming through I got out in the same miserable wet weather I didn’t want to ride in. I went down the road about 200 meters to where the peloton would come through the last of some switchbacks on this climb.

I stood beside two cyclists just off the surface of the road. They had ridden from Davis. I don’t know if they followed the same route but hopefully something more direct. They left at 7:30 a.m. and the time was around 2:00 p.m. They were both shivering which confirmed my decision not to ride today.

Two leaders were in a breakaway but after they passed us 30 seconds behind came the train of Team Radio Shack. There were five guys in the front with Levi on third wheel and Lance on fourth. And they were marked by Garmin-Transitions.

Levi Leipheimer on 3rd Wheel, Lance on 4th

Wave after wave of riders came by as this climb broke the field apart. Halfway through George Hincapie came through drafting the BMC car. He pulled alongside the car and I watched as he took a “turbo bottle.” I laughed.

George Hincapie

There were no race referees in sight and I suppose, if the cameras caught it, they do use some form of video review. But the cameras weren’t there either. And it made me wonder how the peloton patrols and monitors each other. George is on the downside of his career and universally respected. I’m guessing that a temporary boost from a turbo bottle is a right earned after riding in the peloton so many years. Some rookie might not get away with it but George could. If it happened at all that is (wink).

About 17 minutes down came the yellow jersey of Mark Cavendish. But he was joined by perhaps 30 other riders. They formed the “autobus” (grupetto) which consists of the sprinters, other riders who can’t just fly over the mountains, and anyone having a bad day. One can be eliminated at the end of the day on time but not if 30 riders are together and outside the time limit. So for this stage they all form up and stay together.

“Grupetto” led by the Yellow Jersey, Mark Cavendish

About 3-4 minutes after them one last lonely rider, Sean Mazich (Jelly Belly) made his way up the hill. Boy can I empathize with him. Cold, wet, and miserable – sometimes the legs just don’t have it and you pull yourself inside out to get over the next hill. Sean had already been eliminated on time but refused to get in the Broom Wagon, instead he rode the entire route by himself. Then was eliminated.

My time at the Tour was great. Getting to help out the tour in the morning at Davis then having the freedom to move to another location as a fan made it worthwhile. I had thought about volunteering for a week but will have to rethink whether I want to spend a week working all day long or simply volunteer for a couple of stages. This seemed about right.

This was also an excellent decision because I hadn’t realized until Sunday that I’m not as far along in my recovery as I believed. As Dr. Mostwin told me last month, I still have 18 months of healing left and I now know he was right.

Epilogue – Just two days later, the first of many emails of Floyd’s were made public. He admitted to using performance enhancing drugs through most of his career. Very disappointing. Although he stands by his denial that he never used testosterone.

On my return flight I flew from Oakland to Phoenix on the first leg. I met Paul Mittman, President/CEO of Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine who used an upgrade for me to sit in first class. Thanks Paul!

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Going Bonkers

WOODBRIDGE, VA

Oh the importance of keeping the body properly fueled. I’ve watched pro races where someone is leading and near the end they just ran out of energy. You find out later they “forgot to eat” which sounds ridiculous but often you’re not “hungry” while on the bike but still must remember to eat.

I don’t have such an excuse. I forgot to eat even when I was hungry. My breakfast consisted of a 6 oz. Yoplait yogurt. And that’s it.

My normal lunchtime routine is not to eat lunch but to play Ultimate Frisbee instead. Today was beautiful so we played longer than normal. But I have been trying to figure out the nutritional aspect of eating before refereeing soccer, especially when I officiate the double headers that start at 5:30 and 7:00 or 7:30 p.m. On those days I eat a lunch around 2:00 p.m. which seems to be just about right.

Today I should have done the same. But I didn’t. I was in a hurry to get some projects finished and I wanted to leave early so I decided to forgo lunch.

Although I tired to leave around 3:30 p.m. by the time it was “wheels down” it was almost 4:00 p.m. I didn’t leave early.

My route took me across the 14th Street Bridge, down the Mt. Vernon Trail to the Four Mile Run Trail. The last time I was on Four Mile Run Trail was 2001 when Andrew and I started our ride to Pittsburgh. Then we had to ride through a neighborhood in Shirlington and follow a pedestrian overpass that crossed I-395.

The new Four Mile Run trail actually goes under I-395 which is both shorter and less prone to getting lost. That was pretty cool. And it connects with the W&OD in Shirlington at its terminus.

My average speed won’t show it as there are a lot of stops along the way where the W&OD crosses streets and highways, but when I was moving I was going pretty good. In fact, I counted that I passed 21 cyclists and none passed me on this day.

A new route off Guinea Road in Fairfax took me to Olley Lane then to Burke Lake Road and Lee Chapel Road. There I stopped in at The Bike Lane, used the bathroom and refilled my water bottles. I was looking at the Gu but didn’t buy any. I should have.

Once I got back on the road I felt it. I was out of fuel. Zapped. Depleted.

I made it to Occoquan and stopped at a coffee shop looking for a candy bar. The best they had was a small bad of Cheetos. I bought them.

Tanyard Hill Road is a narrow curved road out of Occoquan which I still had to climb. It is 0.7 to the top of the road plus another 0.2 of climbing on Old Bridge Road. Almost a mile climb at 5%-5.5% grade. In contrast, our Saturday morning rides feature Bird Neck Road which is only a quarter of a mile but at 7.5%. But neither of these is Mount Washington which is 7.6 miles at 12% grade.

At the top of the climb was a gas station which had an eating area inside. Healthy, I say. I took my bike inside and found a king sized Snickers candy bar. I sat and ate that and refueled just enough. Snickers are awesome! That gave me the boost to safely navigate Minnieville Road and make it home.

Running out of fuel is awful. Such a strange feeling knowing that some days you’re still pedaling fast after 50 or 60 miles and today after 30 I was on empty. Lesson learned. Eat lunch before a 40 mile ride.

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