Today was the opening ceremony and sendoff for the cancer ride. Good trooper that she is, Kimber Polley gave me a ride from the Metro in Alexandria to Baltimore. We went to the start where I introduced her to Chey Hillsgrove, who is riding his third trip across the country to fight cancer.
Chey Hillsgrove, Trish Kallis
I saw many alumni, too many to mention. I will try. Trish Kallis, Mary Natoli. Bradley Allen. Chey Hillsgrove. Anthony Venida. Meredith Wilson. Liz Kaplan. Rob Keleher. Venkatesh Srinivas. Kevin Barnett. Jeff Graves. Erin Mack.
The four groups, Teams San Diego, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle rode from the office start to the Inner Harbor. I did not roll out with them, instead I was still getting ready in the parking lot.
Mary Natoli, Jamie Roberts, Meredith Wilson
Team Portland
When I arrived I did not spend my time getting ready to ride but in saying hello to old friends and meeting new. When I rolled out, last, I turned the first corner, no more than 50 yards from the office and there was a Team Seattle member changing a flat. It may have been a record for the quickest flat on the trip.
At the sendoff it was great to see Chris and Andrea Zahlis, Kim Sheridan, and Chey’s mother, Monica. Help me to remember more names please.
Chey and Barry
Credit: Venkatesh Srinivas
After opening remarks, introductions of the teams, dipping the back tire in the Inner Harbor, and saying goodbye to family and friends, it was time to roll out. I rode out with the San Francisco team from Baltimore to Alexandria.
Cobbles leaving the Inner Harbor
In my group were Katrine Harris, Holden Cookson, Linnea Cripe, Nathalia Gibbs, Sarah Ring, Chris Moskal and 2013 alum, Sara Janakas.
It wasn’t a difficult route or ride. Kevin Levi-Georlich, a 2013 alum, created the route, apparently using 95% of what I created last year. The main difference was substituting College Park for Berwyn Heights. And that worked.
My group was fourth on the road, then first (chalk duty). Then a double flat with a nail through the sidewall for Nathalia, put us in last, or almost last.
Linnea
Riding into DC on Monroe Ave., a turn was chalked wrong, we didn’t follow it, and we were first. Again.
We did a tour of D.C. for Holden, who had never been. Amazed at all the sports going on on the Mall: Ultimate, Soccer, Football, Cricket, Kickball, Softball, Volleyball, Wiffleball.
Once in Alexandria, they were not excited to be first to the host – that means work. So they had ice cream and Starbucks in Old Town while I rolled on ahead.
I was honored that Mary Natoli invited me on a training ride for the 4K for Cancer. The organization started at Johns Hopkins University as the Hopkins 4K but has gone through a couple of iterations of organizational ownership since its inception. I saw this as a way of giving back to the cancer-fighting community and enjoying a bike ride as well.
I left my house and was 10 miles up I-95 when I remembered that I forgot my Garmin. It was too late to go back. I didn’t know how I could ride without it. I don’t use it to know where I’m going but to see where I’ve been.* But when I don’t have it I feel empty.
Katie Gundlach, Anthony Venida, Mary Natoli
Our instructions were to meet near Comcast Center on the campus of the University of Maryland. We counted off to form four groups. And whatever group I was supposed to be in changed by the time we hit the open road.
The ride was good but my lasting impressions were the alumni love each other and want to help and the organization was very weak in preparing the riders. There was no requirement for any 2014 riders to show up and only three did. Three. The level of support of was 7:1 which tells you how much the alumni love the organization. Seven riders to one. Most were alumni of this ride, some were friends of the organization, or like myself, an alumnus of another ride by the organization.
Joanna Freeman, Kevin Barnett, Mary Natoli
Mary stepped up and was leading the group. She had everyone form a circle and she went over rules of the road for the new cyclists. Then we had a dedication circle. I dedicated my ride to Joe Petrucelli.
Team Seattle 2014 Eric Tien, Jackie Weiss
Once we were on the road I formed up with Nick Lee, a friend of Mary’s from Baltimore, and Jen King, a senior at the University of Maryland who signed up to ride cross country with Bike and Build. We were the non-4K group. The Outcasts.
Yoshi Williams, Chelsea Robinson, Andrew Porter Photo Credit: Joanna Freeman
I’m not real sure what we were doing there. But with only three riders from the 2014 group, there would be more groups without a rider than with one. At least Nick and I, as experienced riders, could mentor Jen as much as she wanted mentoring.
We had a pleasant ride to Annapolis. Some busy roads – very busy. And one beautiful country road. It was partly sunny going out. Lunch was 4K-style; donated food, this time from Chipotle and Subway.
Burritos from Chipotle
As we got underway to return from Annapolis, the weather turned for the worse. Hoping to beat the weather, our group was designated as Group 1. We would not honor that title. We knew we left before the support van and there wouldn’t be chalked turns but Nick was comfortable knowing the way. Until we missed a turn. It was raining and our focus was on staying upright.
Waiting for lunch in Annapolis
We pulled over and tried to determine whether we needed to backtrack or continue with a new route to intersect the original route. We found a new way through. Our delay cost us but we caught one or two groups and picked up Anthony Venida, my “Pedal Pal” from last year’s 4K. We rolled ahead sure that we could see the now-first group ahead.
Jen, Nick, Anthony
And then we lost them. We had missed another turn.
Jen, Nick, and Anthony all went to their phones to check the directions vs. maps on the phone. We continued ahead adding four more miles. A check of the map after the ride showed we could have gone back 1/4 mile and been back on course.
Barry and Anthony
But this was an adventure as much as a ride. We found our way back on course although we finished last. In the last 16 miles, we ran into more rain and wind. But we stuck together to bring everyone home safely. I think everyone had a good day. I did.
The famous Anthony Selfie
It was to be a training day for this year’s for 4K. And that was an organizational failure. Only three new riders showed up but they got a taste of the 4K. The riders are all tremendous. Mary, an alum, organized the ride and so many others were willing to come out to help. Best of luck and safe travels to this year’s 4K riders!
___ *The map was drawn after the fact and is not from my Garmin – which still sets on the fireplace.
I went to Baltimore to see a couple of friends who were riding (mostly in a car) from Baltimore to Key West. I did this ride last year, and while I couldn’t ride this year, I wanted to see this year’s group.
I invited two cancer warriors to join me on the trip and then I didn’t go. Cindi Hart, from Indianapolis, and Dave Wagner, from Orange, California were there and ready to go. I hadn’t met Dave in person although we have been cyber friends for four years and it was great to finally meet him in person.
Barry Sherry and Dave Wagner
The riders formed a dedication circle where each rider could offer a dedication for the day. Dave surprised me by dedicating his day to Jake the Hero Grecco. And I already knew that Cindi would dedicate the day to Jake since she showed me the flag she is carrying to Florida. She did surprise me by also dedicating the day to me. I only wish I was in the circle so there would have been three dedications for Jake.
Cindi Hart (third to right, with sunglasses)
It was strange, almost surreal, seeing riders only in a dedication circle. Any cancer ride I have participated in everyone present was invited to join in but this group chose to be exclusionary. Well, I’m sure the group didn’t make that decision.
Dedication Circle
The group left Race Pace Bicycles and we rolled down to the Inner Harbor. By “we” I mean, yes, I rode with them.
Barry, Cindi
I had thought about what kit, what cancer kit, to wear and decided against my kit from last year’s ride. One reason was if I showed up wearing what everyone else was wearing I did not want to be confused with being a rider for this year. So I chose my Spokes of Hope kit to honor Cindi and because, well, it’s awesome.
Paul Lemle
As we rode to the Inner Harbor, Cindi and I slowly made our way to the front of the group to pick up the pace because it was cold and we weren’t producing body heat. At the Inner Harbor Groups #2-5 loaded their bikes to drive to their starting points. Since I was parked in Baltimore, I jumped in and rode out with Group #1.
BWI Airport Trail
The group I rode out with included Paul Lemle, Leslie Nissemberg, Dean Halberg, Marti Howard plus one other rider, and was supported by Dave and Alex Wright. Leaving Baltimore we went over one cobblestone street plus an open grate bridge. Paul flatted before Mile 5. What a start!
Longboarder who took a crash into me
Once finally rolling, Craig Babst, another alum from last year’s ride (and my 5th cousin), drove by us as we were on the BWI Trail, honking his horn and yelling support.
BWI Airport Trail
We rode on trails I had never been on and time was rolling by. You could see the flags whipping but felt no wind. I knew we were being pushed by a tailwind and I would fight it going back. I looked for a spot where I could say goodbye but they kept pushing on. We approached Dave and Alex at an intersection on the trail and I don’t think our group slowed down. I announced loudly I was leaving and turned around.
Then it was the adventure of finding my way back because I knew I could not trace back the way we came. Nor did I want to ride across that rough bridge. I figured the BWI Trail would take me to a spot I knew and it did, but not before getting run into by a girl on a longboard who fell and took a nasty spill right in front of me. She didn’t hit me but her longboard did.
But I was at a spot I could find my way. It was chilly, and the winds were strong going back but it was a day supporting cancer fighters. Any day like that is a good day on the bike.
The event was the Save a Limb Ride, a fundraiser for The Rubin Institute for Advanced Orthopedics which, I think, is primarily at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore. I left the house at 5:00 a.m. to get to the start line on time.
As I was leaving registration I saw Ben King and then Jens Voigt. I went to the car and got some Sharpies. I was wearing my Shut Up Legs t-shirt. I really haven’t been following Jens around the world for this moment. It just seemed that way.
In 2011, Adrian Register and I were at the team bus for Leopard-Trek in Saint Gaudens, France. Adrian had his Shut Up Legs t-shirt but when the team exited the bus they had to get to the starting line quickly. I’m not even sure if I owned my t-shirt at that point or if I bought it later.
Ducking back inside registration I asked Jens to sign my shirt. He willingly obliged. I was a happy camper. No matter what would happen on the day it would be a good day.
Barry with the Jensie
At 8:00 a.m. we gathered at the event start. The good doctor who was the emcee referred to Jens (pronounced Yens in his native German) as “Gens” (as in more than one girl named Jen). And said he was from East Germany. “I guess it’s all one big Germany, now.” I sort of giggled. Cyclists all cringed as the doctor mangled his name.
As we rolled out it was a cold 48℉. It was ard to believe it was summer just two weeks ago. Plus it was windy too.
The course was somewhat difficult. The event website warned: “Please be aware that our Metric Century ride is a difficult and challenging ride with 5,400 feet of climb.” Actually, for 60 miles, nearly 6,000′ of climb is a lot. Generally, anything more than 100 feet per mile is mountainous and this approached that. I hadn’t read the warning or maybe I would have used the small ring on my triple. I stayed in the 39-tooth middle ring on all the climbs.
I rode for a while with a guy from Fairfax Co. who wore a full FDJ kit. Remember Kentucky Fried Chicken? It was rebranded as KFC to avoid that awful word “fried.” This team was named FDJeux.com in 2003 and 2004, then renamed Française des Jeux, supposedly to avoid bad luck, until July 2010, when the name was simplified to its initials. (Source: Wikipedia)
Don’t be Stupid
I never got his name. He was perhaps 10 years younger and we seemed to match up in power and speed. Around Mile 30 it seemed on every climb, and there were lots of small ones, he dropped back. I always waited. I believe three times he asked me to ride ahead but I was comfortable shepherding him along.
andBut as we were “climbing” up around Prettyboy Reservoir we were joined by two guys who were methodically, but slowly, making their way up the climb. I stayed with them then soft-pedaled at the top but FDJ-guy never did rejoin me. Ever. Even at the end. I think I spent almost an hour at the festival. I never saw him again.
The route was through rolling country roads. The cues were painted on the road. On a group ride, I tend to follow: (1) people; (2) cues; or (3) maps, in that order. Early in the ride, we came to an intersection on a descent. Normally a four-way stop, it was missing the stop sign. Following the wheels of other riders, we flew through it and kept going. About a mile later I saw cyclists coming in the other direction. Another half mile I see 10-15 cyclists all looking at maps. Oh oh. Bonus miles!
The last 10 miles I was pretty much in “no man’s land”. I rarely saw anyone on the road up ahead and was not caught by anyone. I had to follow the cues. They were well-marked until the end. I was navigating by feel as I often didn’t think I was on the right course. But I made it.
Back at the finish I went to the festival. There, Jens, Ben King, and Robbie Ventura were signing autographs. I thought about getting them to sign my race bib but what would I do with it? Some had them autograph their event T-shirt, but again, why?
Jens, Barry, Ben
I was just looking at the autograph table with Jens and Ben and it was as though Robbie read my mind. Actually, he did one better because I never thought of posing with Jens and Ben. Robbie took my camera and told me to get in the picture with those two. After snapping a photo of us, a volunteer took a picture of Robbie and me.
Barry and Robbie Ventura
Weighing heavy on my mind was the recent accident by my friend, Scott Scudamore. Hope and prayers were the best we could do and I wanted to deliver hope. I asked Jens and Ben to make short greeting videos wishing Scott well and they did.
Robbie’s take today on the course was that it was quite difficult. He said it is much easier to have two or three hard climbs and then flat, unlike this undulating course. “Anyone can ride 100 miles on flat” (uh, no they can’t), he said, “but you really have to be fit to ride a course like today’s.” He’s right. My legs feel it.
EPILOGUE/COMMENTS – I look back almost 10 years ago at this ride. The biggest thing that has changed is the course route directions. In 2013, the events printed cue sheets. Savvy riders, of which I was never one, even had a plastic holder on the front of their bike to slip in the turn-by-turn directions and/or course map. The event also painted arrows on the road or erected signs at the turns.
Today many, if not most, riders have bike computers that will show the turns on the bike’s head unit. I was one of the worst at following cue sheets. I put them in my pocket where the paper soon disintegrated due to sweat. I often told riders I would ride in the front position as long as they would tell me where to turn. Now, almost all events provide the course maps in electronic form so riders can upload those to their bike computers.
Lastly, that picture of Jens and Ben. Since that time I have been able to do rides with both riders. And my expectation is that I will ride with both guys again. — March 6, 2023
Last year I rode my first 24 Hours of Booty not knowing anyone in attendance other than through a cyber invitation from Bryan McMillan. We had never met before then. But I had a good time and soon discovered some of the summer cancer riders were there as well.
Team Fight
This year I decided to be a team captain. Officially we were Team Jake’s Snazzy Pistols, in honor and in memory of Jake “The Hero” Grecco. I signed up his step-father, Gary Gravina, my sister, Betsy Sherry, and John Phipps, a friend I met a couple of years ago while riding the Saint Mary’s Century (or was it the Southern Maryland Century?).
Barry, Betsy, John
A couple of days before the event I heard from Gary who mixed up the event dates and could not attend. That was a big set back. But I still looked forward to the event. Our pistols wouldn’t be as snazzy now.
Early morning in Bootyville
Last year I knew no one in advance. This year some of my Key West teammates attended as well as last year’s cancer riders, Jeff Graves and Erin Mack.
I decided to tent, still not sure that was a good idea, but arrived early enough to set up the tent. With not much time before the start, I joined fellow survivors at the front of the line for the Survivor Lap, which I think is really half a lap. Meg Shipman, Paul Lemle, Jessica Tanner, and Thomas Backof from the Key West ride, all were at the front.
After the first lap (I won) I dropped back and rode with my sister. I introduced her to all my friends I could find. While I rode at a decent pace, I talked more than I did last year and didn’t rack up the miles. I also had more fun.
I carried a wooden “train” whistle. As I approached the kids that were riding I gave it my best train whistle sound. That always got smiles. It slowed me down but that was OK.
I was invited to the Yellow Jersey Dinner and took Betsy as my guest. It was the same dinner menu as the other riders got but with speakers. Less riding.
My wind fairing (deflector)
After 6:00 p.m., my friend, Adam Lewandowski, came over from Race Pace Bicycles to work and brought a Trek Domane for me to test ride. Even less riding while we switched pedals and put my lights on that bike.
By 9:00 p.m. John had reached 100 miles and was checking out for the night. He had a hotel. I was envious. Real envious.
Last year I rode until the Midnight Pizza arrived and my light gave out. I had 120 miles at that point. This year I had to lift the pace to get 100 miles before midnight. After Midnight Pizza I decided to get some sleep. This would not be the year I would actually ride for 24 hours. I don’t know if I would try that. Maybe some day.
By 6:00 a.m. I was awake and went out on the course at 6:30.
Breakfast, by invitation, was a Survivors Breakfast. It was the same breakfast (menu) as everyone else got but we had speakers. More down time. This is not to diminish the speakers. They were all good.
After breakfast I had a great surprise. Last year Team Portland was greatly effected by Jake’s story, and ultimately, his passing. I had met Jake’s Pedal Pal, Chey Hillsgrove, on the day they left Baltimore, but had been friended on Facebook by one of the riders, Trish Kallis.
And after breakfast there she (Trish) was. She called my name. I was taken aback certainly not expecting to see her here. It was great to finally meet her.
Trish and Barry
Late morning we tore down our campsite. More time off the bike. But I rode when I could. Ultimately I got in another 41 miles before we all joined in for the last lap at 2:00 p.m.
Great weather, great friends, and fighting cancer. It really doesn’t get any better than this.
I am a “Pedal Pal.” That is a pen pal for a cyclist who is riding 4,000 miles to raise money and cancer awareness. The 4K for Cancer started at Johns Hopkins as the Hopkins4K but was now taken over by another organization. I was asked to be a Pedal Pal for this year’s group.
My friend, Alan, graciously allowed me to be at his house in Alexandria at 5:30 p.m. and he drove me to Baltimore. Then I could bike from Baltimore to D.C. and back to Alexandria.
When we arrived at 6:45 it was easy to spot the riders. Team Portland wore blue jerseys. Team Seattle wore gold jerseys. Team San Francisco wore white jerseys. The riders were standing in a dedication circle holding hands and one by one announcing who they were riding for on that day.
Chey and Barry
I had to find Chey Hillsgrove, the Team Portland leader. He is the Pedal Pal for Jake the Hero Grecco. I didn’t know when we would be rolling out and made sure I found him first. He was very gracious and very thankful that I came to say hello to him.
Dedicated to Jake (Chey)
I then found Patrick Sheridan, my Pedal Pal. He introduced me to our riding team of Jeff Graves, Chris Chitterling, and Lauren Shoener, as well as Lauren’s father, who would be riding with us. At some point before we rolled out we had an alumni rider, Zack, join us but I don’t remember meeting him until I gave him my water bottle – because he forgot water bottles. He also looked like Screech on Saved by the Bell.
Team San Francisco
Shortly after 7:00 a.m., we rolled out of the parking lot and over to the Inner Harbor. A strange sight (to me) was seeing so many of the bikes turned upside down. Perhaps in my circle, we never do that because we would smash our bike computers. The riders were then called over for the opening ceremony.
Lauren checking her bike
After the National Anthem, the riders dipped their rear wheels into the Inner Harbor which was followed by a group photo op. The San Francisco group was called up and were ready for the send-off. Although I had pictured a peloton of 30 riders, that was not to be. We were sent off in groups of four or five, each one spaced seemingly 3-4 minutes apart. Our group was the third to go and it was then I saw the mystery alumni rider, Zack.
Sendoff at Inner Harbor
Within a few hundred yards we were caught up with the two front groups and were in the midst of a 10k run. Perhaps the four riders had cue sheets and our alumni rider did as well but I didn’t. I was simply along for the ride.
We had only gone one mile when we got on a trail littered with broken bottles and glass. Stay classy Baltimore.
We meandered, literally, about the streets. When we looked up we saw riders headed in different directions. So we followed them. We went east on Ostend Street then made a U-turn and went west. And others followed us. I was along for the ride.
Screech then led us down a street with a clear “No Outlet” sign visible. I enjoyed pointing to it while we passed it. We turned around. I was along for the ride.
Pikachu (Clean)
As little confidence as we had in our alumni leader, others may have had less in theirs because they asked us to go to the front and be the lead group. Jeff then stepped up and took the lead on reading and calling out directions and I did most of the pulling. Just tell me where to turn. It worked well because I had a good odometer. Not sure about the other riders. I can’t imagine doing a cross-country trip without one though.
Once we finally got rolling we got to the BWI Trail. When we came to Stoney Run Road we turned left instead of right. We even stopped about 50 yards from where we turned to contemplate our decision and one of the 4K vans even stopped and didn’t say a word (that we were going the wrong way). Nice. We went 1.5 miles before turning around. We rode back four miles when we could have continued with a right turn and been back on course after two miles.
Dipping tires in the Inner Harbor
We stopped in Jessup for Rest Stop #1. While our bonus miles had dropped us back as the third or fourth group in we were the first to leave. As we rolled on the open road we noticed we soon dropped Zack, our “leader.” We waited and discovered he needed a tool to fix his saddle.
Once fixed, we dropped Zack again. This time we learned that he hadn’t eaten breakfast. And that he ran four marathons. And six half marathons. He loved telling us what a great endurance athlete he was.
Zack would have a rough day. He was on a borrowed bike (not his fault), lost his water bottle (partially his fault), and failed to eat breakfast before a 65-mile ride in the heat (completely his fault).
Dipping tires in the Inner Harbor
With our confidence in Zack waning, I asked Jeff to read me the street names on the cue sheet. That’s when I learned we would connect with the Capital Crescent Trail, a trail I ride 2-3 times per week. I told him to get us there and I would lead us home. We were brimming with confidence.
BWI Trail which passes BWI Airport
We rolled into Rest Stop #2 in College Park. Then things started to go terribly wrong. Zack was insistent that we would have to wait for all the groups to check in and we had heard one group was more than one hour behind. We were not patiently waiting.
To make matters more confusing, Zack told us that one of the drivers (alumni) stated we had to wait while another one was clearly telling us to go. Lauren’s father was with us and was really pushing the issue to ride. When three groups checked in, we left.
On the road with Patrick and Jeff
We followed the directions and then they just blew up. They made no sense. We showed locals and they simply shook their heads. We used Barry’s rules of navigating: (1) If you’re trying to get to the river (Potomac) follow the creek as it flows downward; and (2) If you don’t know where you’re going at least get there in a hurry.
Pizza Lunch Break
Even stopping and asking a Maryland Park Policewoman, she was also confused by our directions. So at Queen’s Chapel Road in Hyattsville, we stopped in a broken bottle, glass-strewn Exxon parking lot.
It was hot and we were thirsty. It had been a while since we saw a support van and we were all out of water. I gave Zack some money and told him to go into the CVS and bring back a couple of gallons of water. Mark went across the street and got himself a Coke.
Chris, Lauren, Patrick, Jeff
Eventually, both support vans found us and since we had been leading and chalking the turns, the other groups followed. Zack was insistent that we all stay together and Lauren’s dad not-so-gently informed him that we were in a pretty unsafe area. Common sense took over at that point.
That was the end of Zack’s day. Not literally because he kept riding with us but he fell to the back and didn’t say a word after that. He was useless.
Patrick found us a nice car route to D.C. although we rode on the sidewalk on Queen’s Chapel instead of in the street. I told Patrick we couldn’t ride down North Capitol Street which was his plan but we could find parallel streets. Although when he said we would run into Michigan Avenue I thought that could work an alternative route.
We came to the bridge that crossed Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor and I instructed the group to stop. I didn’t tip my hand, at first, but I knew exactly where I was.
I had twice ridden the Metropolitan Branch Trail at lunchtime in the winter and didn’t like it. But I at least recognized the area. I had Jeff chalk an arrow to turn on 7th, then on Monroe, then on 8th. Then we joined the Metropolitan Branch Trail. I told our group the MBT would take us right to Union Station, downtown. Talk about big smiles. They called the vans immediately.
We followed the trail to Union Station then down to the Mall. I took our group to 15th Street simply to chalk it then we backtracked for bonus miles. I took my group for a tour of Hanes Point then Jeff and I went ahead and chalked the rest of the route while the others took a rest in the shade of a tree at the Jefferson Memorial.
Once our task was completed, we took the 14th Street Bridge across the Potomac and followed the Mt. Vernon Trail to Old Town Alexandria. We did briefly stop at Gravelly Point and watched the planes land at Reagan National Airport.
I said goodbye to my new friends and had to find my way to Alan’s house, without a 4K cue sheet. It was easier that way.
I bike. My dad bikes. (Badly) His bike riding is the subject of many jokes, all behind his back, of course.
I learned to ride a bike in our backyard in New Salem, (Armstrong Co.) Pa. when I was 6 or 7 years old. I never remember riding a bike with my dad.
Big Savage Tunnel
As a dad, I rode with all my kids, even subjecting Andrew to two days of a planned D.C. to Pittsburgh ride on the last day he was 12 years old. But I never remember riding a bike with my dad. I don’t think I did.
We grew up below the poverty level. The two bikes we had were bought by my brother and me. Bernie actually sold magazine subscriptions enough to get a bike. I was a paperboy for the Piqua Daily Call. When I got enough money I bought a bike. We never had bikes for a family ride.
In Piqua, Ohio, my brother, Bernie, and I would ride together to the Piqua Country Club where we were caddies. We even somehow managed to ride to the public golf course, Echo Hills, with golf clubs on our backs. I was 12 years old. But I never remember riding a bike with my dad.
My dad pulling off the trail
A few weeks ago I mentioned to my dad about going for a ride on the Great Allegheny Passage, a rail trail that goes from Cumberland, Maryland to McKeesport, Pennsylvania, and soon connecting to Pittsburgh. A large portion is in Somerset Co., Pa.
My dad expressed desire at going but said that he could never keep up with me. I told him not to worry about that.
Inside the Borden Tunnel
Although Dad had complained of back pain, he assured me that riding a bike would be no problem. After all, he rode 1.5 miles on the stationary bike in the doctor’s office, he reminded me. So we made a plan to ride on the trail. We would park cars strategically so he would only have to ride one way. And I would make it downhill. I thought.
Artwork at the Eastern Continental Divide
Our plan was to ride east to west going through two tunnels and crossing the eastern continental divide. My sister, Betsy, would join us as well. There was one thing wrong with that plan. Other than the section from Cumberland to Frostburg, the Frostburg to Deal section had the highest climbing of any section on the trail. We would ge going uphill. Damn me.
Arriving in Frostburg, I was shocked at how heavy his bike was as I unloaded it from my van. Dad had better bikes but at least one was stolen from his R.V. while my parents were camping in York, Pa. He ended up finding this old heavyweight bike at a garage sale. It had the one requirement he wanted – coaster brakes.
My Dad’s Beater Bike
I love climbing. I am more enthusiastic than talented yet the satisfaction of reaching the top is, well, satisfying. My dad is not a climber. Although the rail trail is just a 1-2% railroad grade it’s not like we’re ascending Mount Washington and its average 12% grade. But to my dad it was.
We had gone but 300 yards and my dad says “I think I’ll walk now.” I can’t describe how I felt. I was annoyed that I drove up this weekend and we rode all of 300 yards and he was walking. I was annoyed at myself for starting here. In fairness, this was one the one section of the trail that wasn’t true to its railroad past and did climb up to 4% or so for 100 yards.
Dad enjoyng the view
Once over the hump we settled into a pattern of riding for about 1/2 mile and then resting It was sort of funny. Sort of.
I do not know how I will be at 82 years old. Or if I will be. I don’t appreciate how the cardiovascular system works and how it may not replenish the red blood cells as fast. I do know that we didn’t see any other octogenarians on the trail.
Entering the Big Savage Tunnel
The trail was full of wildlife. Five turtles, four snakes, (including one rattlesnake), three rabbits, two chipmunks, and one deer. One guy showed us where the mileage marker had been removed because it also marked a rattelsnake den.
Borden Tunnel description
We entered the Bordon Tunnel which was unlit and I think surprised my dad. When he saw through it he said “We can see right through it.” Only once inside did he realize how difficult it was for the eyes to adjust. Dad was in front of a guy who had two lights on bright and he was able to stay in front of those lights.
At the longer Big Savage Tunnel he had gone about 100 yards and I heard him say “Is this only 3/4 mile? – I can walk this.” Don’t walk. Don’t walk. I kept riding, leaving Betsy to stay with him. At the exit I climbed to the top of the portal to take pictures of them exiting, not knowing when they would exit.
Exiting the Big Savage Tunnel
But Dad had a brief acclimation to the tunnel which caused some dizziness but quickly adjusted and rode his bike through the tunnel. He made it through safely.
We stopped at the Eastern Continental Divide, the location where rainfall to the east flows to the Chesapeake Bay and Atlantic Ocean watershed and to the west to the Ohio (River), Mississippi, and Gulf of Mexico watershed. It was here I saw an elevation map for the trail painted on the wall. Frostburg was much lower in elevation than Meyersdale, something I hadn’t accounted for. That was my first realization that I had screwed up.
Family photo. Dad. Me. Betsy. The guy taking the photo said “look mad.” Only Betsy played along.
At the Divide we had another mile to go before reaching Deal. It was here we parked his Jeep as a bailout measure. It was a good measure. He was tired and for someone who had only ridden 1.5 miles on a stationary bike, the 11 miles we just covered, on a trail, was quite an accomplishment. These were 11 trail miles by an 82-year-old with a couple of stents.
Storm clouds were rolling in, the temperature was dropping, and it was a good place for him to stop. I loaded his bike in his Jeep for the drive home. And that concluded my first bike ride with Dad.
Betsy riding beside Dad
Betsy and headed on to Meyersdale where she had parked. It was another seven miles. Arriving at Meyersdale we found my dad, who had driven there, probably to make sure Betsy got back to her card safely.
Our journey over 18 miles took almost 4.5 hours. A little more than four mph.
After dropping off Betsy, I headed back up to the trail to Frostburg. We had been hearing thunder for two hours but could tell it was two mountains over. Yet rain was near us and we had just a brief exposure to it. But going back through Deal the trail was soaked although I hadn’t got caught in it, it did make for harder conditions.
My attire for the day was “relaxed” and I wore sandals and had platform pedals on Andrew’s bike, which he never rides anymore. I went up the rail at a good pace. There are days on the road bike when I don’t average 16 mph yet I made the 18 miles back in little more than one hour. I averaged almost 16.5 mph. I say I smoked it.
I can reflect on the ride. In 82 years this was the first day I rode my with dad. And in Deal, we walked around, where I found a plaque commemorating trail builders. I think a commemorative brick back at the tunnel had been promised, but in the end, they simply erected a plaque. There on the plaque were the names of two trail builders – Barry & Andrew Sherry, a reminder of the days this dad used to ride with his son.
Trailbulders plaque in Deal, Pa.
After uploading my ride data, I got an email that RideWith GPS made the Meyersdale to Frostburg section a timed segment. I’ve never been first on any segment but there I was in first. I smoked it going back.
This has become one of my favorite rides. After almost a week of being off the bike due to all the rain from Tropical Storm Lee, it was a gorgeous day for a Century Ride (100 miles).
Right from the start the road turns up with a seven-mile climb through Catoctin Mountain Park. Even riding at a comfortable pace I passed three riders in short order. Then a woman wearing a jersey from the Baltimore Bicycling Club just blew by me. Funny how these things work. Even if I thought about “grabbing her wheel” (following her) my body couldn’t respond. Anyhow, I was here to ride comfortably. (Plus it may would have been a bit creepy.)
Near the top, my friend Mariette Vanderzon and her fiancee, Rick, came flying by me but I was soon able to latch onto their wheels. And in short order, we soon caught and passed BBC girl and never saw her again the rest of the day. Funny how these things work out.
I was riding with Rick and Mariette, and the hill where I could hit 50 mph snuck up on me. Being in a group, and not recognizing where I was, I simply got in a tuck and didn’t pedal. Although I hit 47 mph I was majorly disappointed that I didn’t hit 50. I even thought about turning around and trying the hill again.
We were riding along at a comfortable pace when two guys passed us. Oh boy. I saw Mariette go and catch their wheels and then Rick followed. I couldn’t. But I could watch this play out 100-200 meters ahead of me. There were the three or four of them. Then another rise in the hill and there was Mariette off by herself. Most surprising to me was on the climb to the rest stop at South Mountain I caught and passed both of those guys. I wanted to say to them “you shouldn’t have pissed her off.”
I was refueling at the rest stop at South Mountain when Mariette and Rick left. I never saw them the rest of the day.
It was a strange day. Except for the brief interlude when I rode with Mariette and Rick, I never connected with anyone. Just a solo ride. I didn’t even find a pace line to jump into except for one brief one going into Gettysburg.
The route was from Thurmont to South Mountain to Antietam National Park. Then it followed South Mountain to Blue Ridge Summit, Pa., and then to Gettysburg National Park. Once through the park, it was 20 miles back to Thurmont. It was a peaceful ride from South Mountain to Antietam and from Antietam to the rest stop at Mt. Aetna.
After the Mt. Atena rest stop, I pushed off on my own, again, looking forward to or dreading the climb over the mountain near Fort Ritchie. Not sure if this is still South Mountain or not. I was entrenched at my own pace and wasn’t about to join any group. Unless I had good reason.
Mt. Aetna Rest Stop. Three of the Four on-course rest stops for the century ride were at firehouses.
One group passed me but as the road turned up, I passed them, not to see them again. Except for the day that I abandoned my climb to the Col du Galibier, I don’t usually make wise decisions when I’m on my bike. Today would be another unwise one. I was cramping. Big time. Sometimes as the pedals moved there would be a sharp pain in the hamstring. Or quadriceps. Or calf. Yet I had lower gears to use and I wasn’t using them.
Last year when I rode here I wasn’t conscious of it at the time but realized at some point on the ride I never used my small front ring. So a goal for today was not to use the small front ring. Stupid.
I turned onto the climb on Ritchie Road and started passing riders. The easy ones were the ones walking their bikes but I passed a number that was still pedaling.
It should be noted these climbs are not the length of the Tourmalet (12 miles) or the steepness of Mt Washington (12%). I can do this. Even while cramping.
I descended to Fort Ricthie and rode ahead to Blue Ridge Summit, Pa. There I stopped for a picture of my bike in front of the Mason-Dixie marker.
While I was stopped, four riders flew by – two couples, and then I saw MY JERSEY! My Alpe d’Huez jersey of which I am so proud. Of which there isn’t another one in the U.S. (or so I thought).
When I bought my jersey on Alpe d’Huez, the Australian shop owner assured me that I would be the only rider in the U.S. to have one of these. This is so embarrassing.
So good looking we posed twice for photos
I immediately caught up to them and heard someone ask me if I rode Alpe d’Huez. Of course, I rode it. I never got a name but the one couple had just been on Trek Travel’s Classic Climbs of the Alps and of course, rode up the famous climb We rode together for the next seven miles to the rest stop at Fairfield. Then we mugged for the camera never to be seen again.
Note to the yellow jackets at Fairfield: Seen you two years in a row now. Please don’t come back.
From Fairfield, I was off again, alone, when I had to stop at a stop sign. That allowed a small group of three to catch me. I gave them the clear sign so they didn’t stop. At first, I was going to let them ride ahead but then decided to catch a ride. I linked up and sat in. There was a huge guy pulling and two smaller guys following. I assumed they had been working together but it became apparent that the two guys were simply wheel suckers. I sort of felt dirty being one myself although I’m not sure what work I could have contributed since I was cramping. I sat in for two and a half miles until reaching the battlefield in Gettysburg.
I stopped, took a few pictures, then rode off again. I was hurting and may have been tempted to jump in a SAG vehicle had they offered one so close to the end. I didn’t.
Riding through the Battlefield at Gettysburg is a surreal experience. I felt transported back to the Civil War. One could feel them singing the Cramptown Races. Doo-dah.
Lone rider through GNP
I arrived back at the start/finish and saw the line for Antietam Dairy ice cream to be too long. That was the best part of the ride. Got to my van. Stopped. Started to lift my leg over the cross tube and then let out a yell. Damn cramps.
“The Lone Wolf” “What the hell am I doing?” “Just Hanging On”
Titles for this blog entry go racing through my mind.
Wheels down at 8:15 a.m. which was later than I wanted as the course opened at 7:00 a.m. I completely underestimated the time it would take to drive here. I headed out of town with little knowledge of where I was going. Although I was handed a cue sheet, I don’t like to use those. Besides, if I got lost I could always program Garmin “back to start.”
Well marked if you’re looking for it
I started out on an empty road and saw no one ahead and no one behind. I figured starting so late I missed any chance to jump into a group. I was resigned that I would ride by myself so I turned around to get a cue sheet then did a 180 and decided to forgo it. I would simply take it slow and enjoy the scenery.
The markings on the road were very small and it was easy to blow past a turn and go for miles waiting for the next mark, which would never come. But I found my first turn and stopped to take a picture of the road and the sign marking – an Amish horse and buggy.
Horse and Buggy sign
While I was stopped fumbling with the camera, I was passed by two guys. I thought that if I hurried I might be able to join them but they went by pretty fast. I counted and they were 17 seconds ahead and wondered if I should hammer it to join them. And what they would think. I let them go.
Settling in enjoying the scenery, I came upon an Amish horse and buggy. Or horse and wagon. I respected the driver’s desire not to be photographed and be recognizable by snapping a picture from the distance. From the rear. (At least this is my belief. I could be wrong.)
Horse and Buggy – No sign
Over the next couple of miles, I passed eight buggies including one charming family of eight. On the back, and they could see me approaching, were two older girls facing backward on the top bench and three smaller boys sitting one bench down. Up front were dad and mom driving with a baby in between. It was actually pretty cool in an Amish sort of way.
The horse took off on the downhill section, approaching the steep uphill. And I did the same. I was side by side by passing with a wide berth. I didn’t want to scare the horse. Then we hit the 12% grade wall. And I flew by that horse. Ha! (Of course, I wasn’t pulling a family of eight.)
It was Amish market day as I assume every Saturday is. I passed one young Amish man on his bike and just wanted to stop and show him my bike. But I didn’t. I wondered what he would say about a carbon fiber bike with a Garmin GPS unit on it.
Just as I was catching a group of riders, riding a bit too slow for me though, I was passed by the same two riders: John Phillips and his boss, Enrico. I didn’t know who these two guys were and I caught their wheels. I can only imagine that they were wondering why I was hanging on and I wondered if they were trying their best to drop me. They didn’t. Eventually, I said I was willing to work and took a couple of pulls. We were now in a group of three.
As is typical of group riding, we didn’t say much or introduce ourselves at first. Why should we? We may ride together for one mile and then split. But eventually, we did. At the first rest stop.
Coltons Point on the Potomac
The first stop was at Coltons Point on the Potomac River. Here the Potomac is five miles wide, not real far from the birthplace of George Washington across on the Virginia side.
Rest Stop #1 at Coltons Point
After a brief stop to fill the water bottles, and it would get hot today, we headed back out to complete the first 50-mile loop. The more I rode the more I felt I wasn’t going to be able to hang on with these two guys. Although I had jumped in with them, they were much younger than I first thought and I thought that would wear me down.
We neared the end of the first 50 miles and came to a bit of a climb — more a roller than a climb but one where I have some problems keeping a fast pace with younger riders. I started to lose contact with John and Enrico and actually felt good about it. But then I saw Enrico sit up and wait for me. Nice gesture but damn — that meant I was going to have to ride hard the entire day.
John at the Rest Stop at St. Mary’s College
Back at the start at the College of Southern Maryland in Leonardtown, John told me the farthest he had ever ridden was 70 miles and that was just a few weeks earlier. I was impressed that he would try to increase his max mileage by 50% on one ride. Enrico had just flown back from Italy and wasn’t feeling well and decided to call it a day.
We had ridden the first section at 19+ mph without the benefit of a large group. I was hoping to ride more sensible in the second half. That was way too fast for me today.
River Festival at St. Mary’s River
Now without Enrico, John and I left the rest break with six other riders and it appeared that we would stay together. But at the first rise in the road about three miles in, John and I pulled away. We weren’t hammering it, just keeping it comfortable.
And that would be it – John and me, for the next 50 miles. There was one stretch where a group of four was catching us and I told him we would sit up and they could latch on, which we did. But there was no real formation in that group and the leader was hammering it. After a couple of miles, I told John I was going to drop back and ride at a more reasonable pace. He did too. And about 50 meters later, the group broke apart.
Rest stop at Piney Point
The remnants of that group all pulled into the rest stop at St. Mary’s City together. I don’t know what happened to them after that. Perhaps they departed before us or passed us when John flatted about five miles later.
The day was hot (upper 80s) and four rest stops hardly seemed like enough places to fill our bottles. On our way out to Piney Point, we passed a small beer store and stopped in for a Coke. It’s not quite the same as the Cokes I had in France in July but it was good enough. It was the pause that refreshes.
John is a younger, stronger, and faster rider than me. But around Mile 85 he had pulled for the last time this day. It was just the two of us working together and we had not been passed by anyone the entire day, save for the group of four that soon splintered after we dropped off.
I was in front for a mile or so and pulled to the side to let John pull. But he was no longer on my wheel. I looked and saw him about 200 meters behind so I soft-pedaled. And this would continue all the way back to the college.
Party at the finish line
I (we) caught another rider and I went to the front thinking I was pulling both but realized I had dropped both. I could have gone on home solo, and I think most roadies would have — in some ways, it is survival of the fittest — but sitting up and waiting seemed like the right thing to do. It was the right thing to do.
We made it back, John accomplished his first century ride and said the last 15 miles were the hardest miles he had ever ridden. Funny thing, our bodies. After a summer of long-distance riding, it knows how to dole out the energy stores for a 100-mile ride. John’s body simply had never been pushed to that limit and quit around Mile 85.
Brusters Ice Cream
The organizers of the St. Mary’s Century are very proud of their work, and they should be. It was just $40 and they provided a nice T-shirt, four fully stocked rest areas, and showers at the college. Except for our (the 100 milers) first rest stop at Coltons Point which had a port-a-john, every other rest stop at fully functioning restrooms, including some nice facilities at Piney Point.
The welcome package was full of information on St. Mary’s County including discount coupons. At the finish, they had a band plus a grill with hamburgers and hot dogs and Brusters Ice Cream.
With many century options available to me and wanting to sample each one, I don’t know if I will be back to this one but highly recommend it to anyone if they have never ridden it. Well down, Paxvelo!
Oh, Lord, you delivered Daniel from the lion’s den Delivered Jonah from the belly of the whale and then The Hebrew children from the fiery furnace So the Good Book do declare Oh Lord, Lord if you can’t help me, For goodness sake don’t help that bear (Lyrics from The Preacher and the Bear)
I have more than 9,000 miles on my butt riding on the road since I’ve been on a mountain bike. But my niece, Emily Cramer, just bought a new mountain bike and was excited to go riding with her.
Emily ready to ride
In 2003, I rode the Great Allegheny Passage from Pittsburgh (McKeesport) to Cumberland, Md. then on to Washington, D.C. but the section from Meyersdale, Pa. to Cumberland wasn’t open yet. Now it is. I suggested we could do the segment from Frostburg, Md. to Garrett, Pa.
My dad dropped us off in Frostburg as we had left my van in Garrett for our return trip. I took Andrew’s mountain bike and it felt good getting on the trail but I forgot how dirty and dusty it is. The trail from Frostburg heads up the mountain until reaching the Eastern Continental Divide.
Light at the end of the (Borden) tunnel
We first came to the Borden Tunnel. We didn’t have lights and thought we’d be okay. But once it became pitch black it was weird. One doesn’t realize that part of our balance comes from sight. If you don’t believe it, try standing on one leg for 60 seconds. Then try it with your eyes close and see how you wobble. And so it was as we pedaled. The sense of moving forward disappeared. You could feel yourself pedaling but without seeing trees or walls or buildings it was very hard to tell if you were moving. Except you were pedaling. Weird, weird, and more weird.
We exited the tunnel and came around a corner when we saw it. A pretty large bear up ahead on the trail, perhaps 75 meters. We stopped but I could not get my camera quick enough. And my first instinct was not to photograph it but think about how best to protect us if it should turn towards us. But it didn’t. It looked at us and then turned and continued to cross the trail then head up into the woods.
How wild! I always wanted to see a bear in the wild but always thought, and hoped, it would be from within the safe confines of my car. Not on a bike on a trail.
Mason Dixon Line
At this point, we were probably no more than 300 meters from the state line dividing Maryland and Pennsylvania. We had to pass where the bear had crossed the trail and gave a quick look to see if he was still around. I didn’t see him. We came to the state line, took a picture, and moved on. Quickly.
Barry and Emily
Compared to seeing a large bear, nothing on the ride could then compare. We went through the 3,294 foot (1 km) Savage Tunnel. I was looking forward to seeing a wall of donor bricks but didn’t see any.*
Big Savage Tunnel
We reached the high point on the trail at Eastern Continental Divide where it goes under Pa. Rte. 2011, McKenzie Hollow Road. I pedaled up this road seven years ago. This was much easier. Although it was “downhill” from there, that’s a 1-2% grade on crushed limestone so there’s no coasting.
Eastern Continental Divide
And the only pavement on the trail is 50 meters on either side of this crossing.
Keystone Viaduct
We crossed the Keystone Viaduct, the Bollman Bridge, passed the Meyersdale train station, and crossed the 2,200-foot Salisbury Viaduct before returning to the van parked in Garrett.
Salisbury Viaduct
The beauty of the trail is outstanding and it was great riding through and over some of the engineering marvels in the area.
____ *The Big Savage Tunnel Recognition Plaque is in the final phase of review. When complete, it will be erected at the Deal Trailhead.
