Random Thoughts on My Tour of California Experience

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Random, so I don’t have to put any thought into how I organize them

  • It is something I would definitely recommend for cycling fans but even for casual on-lookers it is pretty neat too
  • It’s very different from a typical sporting event where you pay money then watch your favorite athletes or teams perform for 2-3 hours in a game
  • About 2,000,000 people will watch the Tour at various vantage points — all for free.
    Depending where you go, you get to wait for one or two hours to get to see the riders go past you once.
  • Best stage is a time trial where you get to see every rider individually
  • Or you may like a stage finish where there is sometimes chaos coming down the stretch for the win
  • Or you may like to be on a hill climb where they are going slower and you can see the pain in their faces
  • I worked with four different volunteer coordinators. Best at communication was Maura Noel in Santa Cruz
  • Most helpful was Susan Ryan in Santa Rosa. She emailed me a couple of times to make sure I had a place to stay
  • Maura and Susan both sent me my assignments well in advance
  • In Sacramento and San Jose, unless they were holding out primo spots for certain volunteers, when you checked in you were given the next assignment available to cover

  • The order for the prologue time trial was by draw except Levi Leipheimer, as defending champion, would go last. It’s not even that each round of 17 was drawn because in the last group of 17 were two Garmin riders.
  • I understand that each team got to choose who would ride last — usually their team leader but maybe their super time-trialist.
  • The final 12 riders went as follows: Kim Kirchen, Tom Boonen, George Hincapie, Tyler Hamilton, David Zabriskie, Lance Armstrong, Christian Vande Velde, Fabian Cancellera, Ivan Basso, Michael Rogers, Floyd Landis, Levi Lepiehiemer.
  • The largest cheer was for Lance but at this point they were all loud
  • But nothing like Heinz Field for the AFC Championship game when Troy Pololmalu intercepted the pass at the end of the game to send the Steelers to the Super Bowl
  • Hilton Garden Inn is becoming my favorite Hilton property. Their breakfast is better than Embassy Suites.
  • Hampton Inn’s soaps and Internet sucks although the Internet may be a location by location situation
  • I enjoyed the volunteers I met at every location. In Sacramento was Tamy Quiqley who came from Redding, Calif. to volunteer. She was the most fun to talk with.
  • In Sacramento we were given the start times so there was no guessing as to when the riders were coming.
  • “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.” “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.” “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.” “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.”
  • In Santa Rosa we had a couple who had race radio which was helpful. But being “on Calistoga Road” didn’t mean a lot to this Virginian.
  • In Santa Cruz the neighbors were great about coming out and mingling. One woman brought tea and offered up her house for bathrooms.
  • “Bonny Doon Road” meant nothing to me either but after a few minutes I talked to the residents like I knew exactly how far the riders were and the pain they would be suffering
  • Also in Santa Cruz, one brain-dead person decided she had to go to work and get her car out of the driveway and drive the course after the it was closed for the race. All the publicity and the door to door flyers for the people on the route and she “didn’t know there was a race” — how stupid.
  • The riders in Santa Cruz came in waves. In between, just as the crowd started cheering, came what appeared to be a college student, flying down the road on his bike. Don’t know where he came from.
  • And I don’t know where the California Highway Patrol (CHPS) motorcycle cop came from either but he was on that kid’s butt in about three seconds time. Don’t know if he got cited or just pulled off the course. I’m betting citation.
  • Just saw a recap of yesterday’s stage and saw my arm — MY ARM! — taking a picture of Francisco Mancebo cresting Sierra Road for King of the Mountain points
  • If I go again I would not go to the top of a mountain road but part way up it where the viewing was unobstructed
  • If you saw me then you’d see more than my arm
  • One goal I had was to see Phil Liggett and/or Paul Sherwin
  • I would have settled for Bob Roll
  • I thought briefly about heading over to Modesto for the finish after I ran down Sierra Road but I was soaked to the bone and wanted to get out of my wet clothes
  • I am more sore today than when I biked up Mount Washington or rode the Blue Ridge Extreme Century. Not sure if it was the walk up the road or the 3.5 mile run down.
  • It was cold and wet on the hill. No trees — just pasture. Cold. Wet. No porta johns led to creating my first ever urine bottle when I reached the car.
  • Biking IQs — Sacramento — 110. Decent day and people came in from all over to see cycling. This was an above-average knowledgeable crowd. Yet it was also the worst crowd. Some people tried to play frogger and cross the street between bikers.
  • One woman in Sacramento in her 60s knew more of the riders than I did. Or at least as much. I was very impressed. She said she was “Chris Boardman’s” mother although she wasn’t — they just shared the same name.
  • Santa Rosa — 115. Like Sacramento, people had to come in to downtown but the weather was so miserable that cyclists tended to show up more than the mildly curious.
  • Santa Cruz — 80 (my section). I was on a residential street where no one outside of Santa Cruz came. Most were very nice retirees.
  • Sierra Road, San Jose — 130. These were the Mensa bikers. Everyone on top of this pass was a cyclist, cyclist fan, or family of one of the riders.
  • A treat throughout the tour is to read the daily blog by Phil Gaimin on bicycling.com
  • Sorry to learn today that Scott Nydam crashed out of the Tour. I met his fiance at the top of Sierra Road yesterday. She was so cute writing his name in chalk at the top of the climb.
  • Flight time from Chicago O’Hare to Reagan National (DC): 1:20
  • Time spent on the plane not in the air: 2:10

  • Dinner Friday: In-N-Out Burger
  • Dinner Saturday: In-N-Out Burger
  • Dinner Sunday: In-N-Out Burger
  • Dinner Monday: In-N-Out Burger
  • Hey, if it’s good enough for Floyd’s training table, it’s good enough for me
  • There was no lunch any of those days as it was a big breakfast then out to the course until dinner time
  • I still believe Floyd did not dope

  • Two days in a row the Amgen email folks ruined a good Tivo veiwing of the Tour for me. While watching the recorded program and checking email up pops “Cavendish wins Stage 5.” Why not “Stage 5 Results?”

More Rain, Flooding, then Sunshine!

SANTA CRUZ, CALIFORNIA

Flooding, blowing rain, cold in Santa Cruz. I wasn’t looking forward to this day. It’s a long day standing out in raw conditions to watch a race go by.

Phil Gaimon wrote “Stage two started at 8:30 a.m., with a neutral, wet, cold, seven-mile ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. It was pretty scenic. That, and a pee break a couple hours later were the only pleasurable experiences of the day. As Floyd Landis told me during the pee break, ‘You have to take pleasure in the small things.’ So true, Floyd.” (Bicycling.com)  There are two riders in the race I have personally met. Phil Gaimon (Jelly Belly) and Floyd Landis (Ouch). And here they were talking about taking pee breaks.

Phil is the only rider in the peloton who has beaten me in a race. I love writing that. Not many riders would be in a position to do a race like Mt.Washington. Most have other team and training commitments but Phil raced Mt.Washington before he joined Jelly Belly.

I met Floyd a couple of years ago in Arlington, Va. when a number of us who believed, and continue to believe, that he was innocent of the doping charges and rightfully won the Tour de France, met with him an evening before he was to discuss the tactics of the USADA with Congress.

I am tired. Each day began with a check-in around 8:00 then out to the course sometimes three hours (today it was 4) before the Tour would come through. Then it’s pack up and drive to the next location.

My location today was on the worse possible position to see the tour. On the downhill grade at the bottom of a steep hill. It’s also one of the most important positions for a marshal because the riders are going so fast it’s even more important to keep an eye on spectators to make sure none run out, even innocently to cross the street, while they are descending.

I was thrilled by the presence of two visitors. The first was Daniel Wenger. Daniel lives in Santa Cruz and we have corresponded over the years on genealogy. One of my lines is Wenger as is my watch. Daniel is my 5th cousin. I trace my family back to Lancaster Co., Pa. in the 18th century including a line named Landis. Hmmm.

 

Barry and Daniel
Barry (L), Daniel Wenger (R)

Daniel, IMHO, is the preeminent Wenger researcher and I defer to him on Wenger research. He traced Floyd’s line as well and Floyd also descends from a Wenger line. But so far, we haven’t connected my Landis to his or his Wenger line to mine.

Then Nina Simon came by. Nina used to work in D.C. and moved to Santa Cruz a year ago. It was great to see her again as well.

 

Nina and Barry
Nina Simon, Barry Sherry

As for the race — it rained. Riders got soaked again beginning with their crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Lance crashed but got back on the bike. Levi led to the end but didn’t contest the win letting Thomas Peterson take the win at the end. Levi was interested in the overall lead.

 

Race Leaders
Levi Leipheimer followed closely by Thomas Peterson
The people in our spot were great. It was a residential area and most seemed to be retirees. It was a nice block party. One woman came by to offer her bathroom for breaks. Later she brought us hot tea.

I have discovered that I am an encyclopedia of biking information compared to most volunteers. Once the questions start, most volunteers clam up and I then answer their questions.

The riders came by in waves. Levi and Peterson. Then a chase group of 18 led by Astana and Lance Armstrong. They were racing hard down the street. It would be another 90 seconds before another group of 20 went by. Then at 5′, eight more riders went. At 11′ another 15 riders came by and they appeared to be more relaxed. We saw some smiles and mostly light pedaling. At 17′ another large group came by. Smiles. Relaxed pedaling at the front and coasting, COASTING!, at the rear for this group. Just glad to get home safely.

At 24′ a few more came by then at 25′ we saw the last four riders come by. And we saw cheating, wink wink. These were Francesco Chicchi, Fabio Calabria, Anibal Andres Borrajo, and Phil Southerland. I noticed that they were riding side by side with their team cars. One grabbed onto his team car and hung on. Another drafted behind his team car. Some spectators asked me if it was legal. Uh-uh. But who’s watching? Those boys worked hard on a long, cold, rainy, hard stage and were glad to get home upright on their bikes.

(Note: I saw two of the four riders grab some assistance but could not tell you which two did and which two didn’t.)

Santa Cruz
Downtown Santa Cruz after the race

Despite the rain of the day, by the time the riders came by, the sun peaked out for an hour or so. It was a good day.

Dirty Dozen, Phantom, and Frankenstein

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

I don’t get to write much about activities other than biking but this one deserves mention. Friday night before leaving for New York, I received an email from Danny Chew, race creator of the Dirty Dozen. He had just finished his summary of this year’s Dozen. He made a mention to me as a 53-year old rookie (he liked calling people rookies) from Virginia who broke his shift cable on the fourth hill. A little embarrassing I would say. I would have preferred to remain anonymous. Oh well, proof that I was there!

What used to be a YFU tradition later became a family tradition — a weekend trip to New York City at Christmas. My sister, Betsy, and her two daughters, Hannah and Emily, joined our family. We left the house shortly before 7:00 a.m. for a trip to Union Station where everyone believed they would be transferring to Metro to ride on Bolt Bus. Instead, I pulled out train tickets as a real surprise.

It was snowing as we approached the city and I was glad I wasn’t driving my 15-passenger van. Amtrak took us directly into the city to Penn Station. We dropped our luggage at the hotel and then made our way to Times Square. We saw Shrek (The Musical) on the TKTS board for half price and Ashley and I made our way to the front for tickets. Ashley was really excited to see Shrek and I wanted to as well. It was not everyone’s first choice, some wanted to see Phantom of the Opera, but that choice was made for us. Shrek was sold out so we got Phantom tickets instead.

Phantom is a Broadway classic. Now in it’s 21st year on Broadway (they hoped for three), Ashley and I agreed that it’s a show to be seen at least once. While we hoped for the laugh out loud funny Shrek, we weren’t disappointed to see Phantom.

Hannah, Emliy, Betsy, Ashley, Bryan, Cheri, Barry, Andrew

Cheri was excited because a woman she had taught in childbirth class was in the show. She got up before the show to try to pass a note to Rayanne Gonzales, one of the singers in the show. We would want to say hello to her afterwards. In the meantime, Bryan announced “after the show we are going backstage.” Bryan’s boss’ brother works in New York City and he has a good friend, Craig Jacobs, who is the stage manager for Phantom. It wasn’t quite six degrees of separation but almost.

After the show we were able to go on stage. We learned some “secrets” (can’t share or they wouldn’t be secrets) and then Ashley took to the stage to sing. She sang “Somewhere That’s Green” from Little Shop of Horrors. It was great. Craig said she has a beautiful voice. My nieces, Hannah and Emily, both dance and they took the opportunity to dance on stage as well. Ashley, Hannah, and Emily all can say they were on Broadway.

Note: Young Frankenstein closed May 31, 2012

In the evening we headed to the Hilton Theatre for Young Frankenstein. What a great show. But it opened in November 2007 and will be ending next month — only a 14-month run. Don’t know why — tickets were mostly hard to come by and the theater seemed to be full. But maybe it wasn’t. And according to the New York Times, it priced itself out of the market.

But we had a great weekend. No time on the bike but something a little different for a change.


EDIT/EPILOGUE – Danny Chew was paralyzed in an accident in 2016. He continues to ride now (2020) using a hand-cycle.

Young Frankenstein closed May 31, 2012

Unfinished Business

WINTERGREEN RESORT, VIRGINIA

I had to come back. It was that simple. Wintergreen was the location of perhaps my worst ride ever, last year, when I severely bonked riding the 100 mile course which included 11,000 vertical feet of climbing. I cramped going up Vesuvius and again at Reed’s Gap. When it came to taking on the right nutrition for an event like this, I sucked.



It was so bad that when I attempted to ride up Reed’s Gap the EMTs pulled me off my bike and made me rest. They offered to give me a ride in the SAG wagon but I refused.

It’s not so much that I like to suffer but it’s a rewarding feeling to overcome suffering. Still, a 100-mile ride might be more fun without it. Those guys that go 100 miles in four or five hours miss out on half the fun.

And if climbing 11,000 vertical feet (more than two miles in height) wasn’t enough, the organizers decided to make it harder. They added another 2,000′. But I knew I had to come try it again. This time I would taper the week before instead of doing a hard ride the day before. 

I was smart on Friday when I rode with DC Velo at Hains Point. After the second lap when the big boys put down the hammer I decided not to chase. I knew I would be riding Blue Ridge and it would be foolish to try to keep up. I was glad to see some other riders also not to go, including a triathlete. We kept a reasonable pace and rode another lap together. But I did have my referee physical test Friday night and ran my best distance ever for the 12-minute run. Still, I was hoping my hard workout Friday night would have no effect. I may have been wrong.

This year was different from last year’s Blue Ridge Extreme. Rather than one start/finish location at the Afton Inn, this featured a start down in the valley near Beech Grove, about a mile above the Ski Barn. The finish was at Wintergreen Resort. Depending on where you parked, you might have to pedal by your vehicle on the way to the mountain top finish line.

We started with a mass start at a couple minutes past 8:00 a.m. It was a nice 2-3% downhill for a mile to the Ski Barn before turning and heading out towards Crabtree Falls and the climb up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. I didn’t think I had the legs today and wondered about that stupid referee fitness exam I ran Friday night.

On the climb to Crabtree Falls and Montebello I saw a woman wearing shorts that stated “I climbed the Rock Pile.” That made for instant conversation. She didn’t have a name on her bib and I never asked her. But we talked about Mount Washington. She and her riding partner climbed it last week. She climbed it in two hours. I would say that was Diana Horvat, based on published results at Mount Washington.

We were soon joined by Michael Taylor and a friend of his, Jonathan Levine. Michael occasionally plays Ultimate with me on the Mall. While they stayed together 100% of the time, I would join them off and on throughout the ride.

The ride up to the Parkway was work but fun. It was about an 18-mile climb. I never faltered and pedaled right up, passing many people who had pulled over to rest.

I was conscious to drink a lot to combat cramping. On the day I went through 10 bottles of water and five of Elixir or Heed, depending on whether I mixed it or took what was at the water stops. Still, I don’t think it was enough. Add in two Power Bars, 13 Clif Bars (mini), three bananas and one would think I would be plenty fueled.

I rode solo most of the day. It seems my pace was in between those people I wanted to ride with or I was a third wheel. I didn’t appear to have any problems and enjoyed the ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway which went north from Crabtree Falls (or whatever the gap there is called). We turned off and headed down towards Sherando. 

I bombed the descent, hitting 46 mph in one stretch and passing a group of strong riders. But I pulled over for a mechanical. My back wheel never felt right. It seemed to be rubbing on the brake and I eventually just opened up the calipers. Who needs brakes when you’re climbing so much? 

Although my brake may have been rubbing and that made it a bit harder for 60 miles, I thought I was ready to tackle the climb at Vesuvius.

At first, I felt good on the climb. And just like the other side of the mountain, four hours earlier, I motored on up the climb. For a while. I passed a number of people walking and I kept going. But it was getting harder. As I stood and got out of the saddle, I was really dragging. Or the bike was really dragging. My front tire was flat.

As long as I was in the saddle and my weight was back, it was OK, or so it seemed. I’m sure even then it wasn’t. But out of the saddle, forget it. It probably took me 40-50% more energy to move the bike with a flat. It wasn’t completely flat, but very low. When I stood I could feel and hear the tire pressing against the rim.

Maybe it was the extra energy caused by the flat or maybe it’s because I suck, but I was about a mile from the summit when I felt the first twinge in the hamstring. Then the second hamstring. Then the quadriceps. I was cramping. Damn! I dismounted. I walked for a little bit before getting back on and finishing the ride to the summit.

At the top I made a very stupid decision. I was running a hard case tire to prevent flats, and they give me fits when I try to change them out. I didn’t want to take too much time changing the tire because I had a time cutoff to make back to the Ski Barn. I simply asked for the tire to be pumped up. I hoped that just by pumping it up it would hold enough to get me to the next rest stop. And the next.

I should have taken the time to do a complete tube change. You don’t think well when you are tired.

It worked for a few minutes but I soon felt I was riding low on the front tire. Stupidly, it did not prevent me from absolutely bombing the curved descents down past Crabtree Falls. I passed Jonathan and bridged up to Michael.

Michael and I rode together for a while and I even did my share of pulling when I finally told him I wasn’t going to make it. The tire was flat again. I limped to the next rest stop. The riders trailing by 2-3 minutes went flying by as a volunteer put more air in the tire. He was not equipped to make a quick change and neither was I.

With a full tire, I headed off to the Ski Barn with one last climb and descent before reaching the Ski Barn. The tire was failing again and this time I just hoped the SAG vehicle would come by and I would call it a day. I had ridden on a flat tire for more than 25 miles and it took its effect on me. I was beat.

The SAG vehicle, which seemingly had been circling like a shark ready to attack the past 45 minutes, was now nowhere to be found. I gutted it out and made it to the Ski Barn. At this point, I knew not many people were left behind me. I was surprised when I turned the corner and saw a lot of riders still hanging at the rest stop, waiting for the climb to the finish. I limped in on a flat tire and a rider said he could fix it in five minutes. And he did. I regret not finding out his name.

I mentioned to him that I flew down the mountain, trying to keep my weight on my back wheel. He told me that my biggest risk was not in a blow out due to an overheated tire but that the tire itself would roll under itself in one of the turns and come off the rim. Oops. I guess I was lucky because I hit speeds of 40 mph.

I was near exhaustion having ridden so long on a flat and had already decided to call it a day. Completing what you start is one thing; doing it while hurting your body is another. Rather than finish at the mountaintop, I decided long ago that I would simply bail out at the car when I passed the field where we parked at the start.

But the new inflated tire gave me new life and I rode with Michael and Jonathan for a while even passing the field where I was parked. Jonathan suggested I could go two miles past the car then turn back rather than ride the final four miles to the finish. That way, I would still get in my century ride.

That sounded good to me. I thought about going farther with them as well but really was spent. I don’t know how much extra energy I used riding on that flat but knew I already worked harder than anyone on the day. So I rode with them until I reached the two-mile point and then turned around and went back to the car. I told them to report to the organizers that Bib 321 went home. Check me off course, no need to send out the search crews looking for me.

The climb up to Wintergreen was steep, but not as steep as Reed’s Gap last year. I was happy they replaced Reed’s Gap with the Wintergreen climb. At the parking lot before the start, I heard one rider state she was going to return only to the parking lot. She was riding the half-metric (30 miles). One guy told her she needed to climb to Wintergreen and she said “Oh, no, I drove up there.” He said, “going in a car will make you sick — on a bike it’s OK.”

But I didn’t need one final climb. I knew it would be a decision I would have to live with. I really didn’t mind having a DNF by my name. It’s not a race and I really didn’t need to finish off punishing my body just to say that I did. Plus I did it before. And one hour, one day, and one year later I would have to be OK with. And I was.

There are a number of factors that would have gotten me to the top.

  • Had I parked at Wintergreen and took the shuttle to the start — my car would have been at the top waiting for me
  • Had I wanted to experience a mountaintop finish. But having made it to Mt. Washington this year, nothing else compares.
  • Had one of my riding partners been struggling and needed support from this rider, I would have stayed with them. But they were fine. In fact, on my descent to the parking lot I eyed up the last of the riders still climbing to see if I should ride with them. But they were fine and didn’t need the support of this old rider to help them.
  • I wanted to better last year’s time despite the organizers adding 2,000 more vertical feet of climbing. I wasn’t going to do it. As we started the climb I was already on last year’s time so there was no way I could lower my time. If I still had a chance I would have gone for it but those 25 miles riding flat killed my chances.
  • Had this been a stage race where one must finish to ride again
  • Last year’s gift was a shot glass or beer mug imprinted with Blue Ridge Challenge. I was offered one and told them to keep it. This year they offered them for sale too so I assume that was the finishing line prize. No thanks. On the other hand, if, like, Newton’s Revenge they had a ribbon/medal and an embroidered blanket for the finishers, well nothing would have stopped me.

So, it was fun but I don’t see myself wanting to do this ride a third time. I would like to use Reed’s Gap and Vesuvius as training rides in preparation for another try at Mt. Washington but don’t need to spend $70 for another supported ride.

I have a time listed on the official site behind Michael and Jonathan at 9:23. I have no clue as to my real time. At 4:15 p.m. (8:15 running clock) I was at the Ski Barn with five miles to the summit. Did it take us an hour to the summit? More confusing was one rider who was with us at the Ski Barn and is listed as having finished under seven hours. At the 7:00 mark she was climbing Vesuvius. Oh well. It’s not a race but a ride and one few people are willing to undertake.

Did I finish what I started? Well, yes and no. Fighting Father Time is one thing. Few of us improve physically after 30. Yes, if you’ve never done anything athletic one can certainly be better later in life. But I was always reasonably fit. Still, I do see remarkable fitness in those guys, in their mid to late 50s, who have retired, and all they do is ride. Most of them signed up for the Mount Washington Hill Climb. I didn’t see many people older than me on this ride.
Fighting gravity is another. Having climbed Mount Washington and having run the best referee fitness test, I am thinking I am about at peak fitness. I can’t believe sometimes the muscular form in my legs. So I hoped that even by adding 2,000′ more vertical climb that I could better last year’s time.

Yes, the flat slowed me down and took a lot out of me. But even before I noticed, I wasn’t on record pace. Perhaps if I rode with a group I would have done better. It takes 30% more energy to ride solo than to ride behind someone. But I’m not sure how much that matters when one is climbing or descending and a lot of the course is just that.

So I’m pleased with where I am. I’m not going to win any races but I want to maintain a healthy lifestyle and remain fit. Even if I am near the end of the pack, I still get out and do it, and that’s what’s important. At least that’s what I am going to tell myself.

EPILOGUE: A few weeks after the Blue Ridge Extreme Challenge I took my bike to The Bike Lane to get the rear wheel trued. To my amazement, they told me that the wheel wasn’t out of true but the rim was cracked. I am both lucky to have hit speeds of 40 mph on those technical descents without having the wheel break a spoke and also satisfied that I really had to overcome pedaling on a flat front tire for 20 miles with a cracked back wheel.

EDIT – The Blue Ridge Extreme Century was canceled for 2009 and never returned.

Getting Dropped on the Group Ride

NOKESVILLE, VIRGINIA

Embarrasing. The definition is getting dropped on your group ride. Yea, it happened to me.

We met at Nokesville Park on Sunday for what was to be a “BB” ride with the Potomac Pedalers Touring Club. The BB pace is about 18 mph which is what I ride solo or think I do. In theory, I should be able to do a little faster in a group. The BB ride is one that goes off at 16-18 on moderate roads and 18-20 on flats. I do that solo. Even though I hadn’t ridden with them I wasn’t worried about the pace.

My biggest worry was shaved or not shaved. Been reading and talking with a lot of folks about shaving my legs. It’s not for aerodynamics although if one feels faster they will probably tend to ride faster. But it’s for that nasty thing called road rash. Not only does the shaven skin clean up and bandage better after a crash but I have read reports where the hair on the skin will peel the skin back like a banana, unlike the shaved skin. Yuck. Anyhow, with trepidation I revealed my hairy legs and pretty much was in good company. I didn’t notice any shaved legs amongst us.

We headed off on the roads around Nokesville and soon were in a single file paceline. I think very early on we dropped a rider. I’m not sure because I didn’t have time to look back. We were flying too. The average speed was 22-23 mph. One by one I moved closer to the front as the leader moved off the front and drifted to the rear. Even at this pace, it wasn’t too hard to keep up.

At mile 14 there was just one rider in front and he too peeled off. Now I was left to pace the group. I did not want to let anyone down by pacing at 16-18 mph and I kept the speed up. Way up. We were going about 24 mph and I was pushing it. After a half mile I peeled off and made my way to the back of the pace line. Having been worried about leading the pace line in my first ride, the guy in front of me said it wasn’t that bad.

Now I was letting the pace line pass me and as the back reached me he said to me “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I didn’t respond. I was in the red zone. I tried to slip in behind him but had let me pace drop too much and the line went flying by. For about 10 seconds or so I tried to bridge the gap but they were 10 yards, then 20 yards, and after a minute, 100 yards ahead. I was losing ground.

For the next couple of minutes I tired to hold the gap but soon realized I screwed up. That was my first attempt at riding in the pace line and it was obvious to me that I slowed down too much. I kept visual contact for a while and even witnessed one of the early pace leaders get dropped too.

I thought I would catch them at the one rest break and reached for my cell phone which was beeping me with a waiting message. After listening to the call, I reached for my cue sheet and discovered it was gone. I had no clue where I was or where I was going.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Give me the sun and I can pretty much figure out my way back. I saw the sun and knew to follow the roads north. I did very little backtracking until I got close to the start. I had ridden about 15 miles with the group and would solo home for what was going to be almost 25 more. I would have been better off just turning around.

What was amazing was that as I got close I remembered the turns but none of the scenery. I was even doubting if I had been on the same roads. The focus in the pace line is the wheel in front and not the houses or farms along the route.

I later contacted the race leader and he apologized for the ride coming off way too fast. He said shortly after I was dropped it actually splintered into four separate small rides. Maybe that was to make me feel better. It didn’t.


EDIT/EPILOGUE – New to these group rides, I would learn that no one contacts the group leader. And that it is rare any of these rides stay together. They usually end up with small groups and solo riders. I also see that I ramped up the pace when I was at the front and made it too hard for me to jump back on. Live and learn.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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