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.
Six weeks ago I broke my collarbone and immediately tried to withdraw from this event. But I was past the cutoff time and after trying to sell my entry unsuccessfully, it was with great trepidation I decided to go to the mountain. Riding with the collarbone hasn’t been bad the past six weeks but it has prevented me from doing real hill training – not that there’s anything that compares to this mountain.
Riders at the start line (on the bridge). This was the last group to start.
Last year, the Gubinski family gave me a ride down and asked me if I would come back if they signed up. And so I did. Had I not signed the pact it would have been easy to skip this one. But I knew they would be at the mountain.
It was cold at the top
My heart wasn’t in this climb and even as I was driving towards New England on Thursday I often thought of turning around. I didn’t bother with finalizing hotel reservations until Wednesday.
The finish line at the Rockpile
The collarbone is pretty good now. It doesn’t effect me as I ride except occasionally out of the saddle if I twist the wrong way. It does, however, effect my sleep if I turn on my right side. So it’s not perfectly healed but I can do this.
The flags. The blankets. The coats.
But once I contacted the Gubinski family and asked if they still had a place for a rider (to bring down after the race) I felt more energized. We met yesterday at registration and were all set. Still, I wasn’t 100% sure I’d race.
The Mt. Washington Cog Railway
This flag was whipping in the wind on the summit
It was a gorgeous day. Sunny and temperatures in the mid 60s at the base. I decided to ride.
A rider near the top
As usual, I started last in the last group, the age 45 and older riders, which was so large it was divided into two groups, by alphabet. I started up the mountain with the usual thoughts. This hurts. Shut Up Legs. Keep the legs moving.
At times I thought about abandoning (aka quitting) but then thought about cancer. I am not a quitter. I will keep going unless I can’t. And even then I would find a way.
One of the nice views from the top. Wildcat Mountain is opposite.
The beauty of this ride is that time wasn’t important. Simply finishing would be a victory because there was no way I thought I’d be here after breaking my collarbone. I heal slowly.
Lucas (165) and Alexa (in black) at the start
I always remember a flat section but never found it. Every time I looked up, which wasn’t often, the road just kept going higher. The dirt section is still the dirt section. At the hairpin turn on dirt I was hit with a pretty vicious headwind. Hard to measure but we were told 40 mph winds.
A finisher’s medal and the bike bumper sticker
Soaked with sweat it was as though someone opened the freezer and turned the fan on high. Turbo high. I tried to get as low as possible while grinding up the dirt section.
I never checked my time. I just kept turning over the pedals. As I came to the final section a man I met at breakfast in the hotel called out “Virginia.” I stood briefly then as I turned the corner to the last 22% grade I stayed seated. Although I had alternated my position throughout the climb I guess it was just time to sit. I looked at the clock and saw 2:05 which was really 1:45 – less the 20 minute difference for starting later than the clock did.
Part of the Auto Road is visible in the left of this photo
My time, always consistent near 1:45, was just a time. I was quietly pleased that I had finished; I had fought off my own inner doubts about not being able to make it.
Within a couple of minutes I began to realize how cold it was. Just 41º (5ºC) and with 30 mph winds, the windchill was 29º (-1.7ºC). As the race organizers tried to cover me with a grey Polartec blanket, it was blown off. Before the woman could retrieve it I asked for a blue one. I have four or five grey ones already. I knew my wife would like blue.  Alison Gubinski found me and had my bag of clothes. I put on my jacket to keep me warm long enough before finding a nice place to change out of my sweat soaked clothes into my dry ones.
The 22% finishing grade at Mt. Washington Credit: Vic Gubinski
It was a fun day. My friend, Jeremiah Bishop, took third overall. The Gubinski’s, riding, for the first time, all did well; Lucas made Top Notch (sub 1:20) and Alexa got on the podium in her age group. I wish I could take credit for their great results.
Alexa, Barry, Vic, Lucas
It was 1300 miles for an 8-mile race. But it seems to be the big test I face every year. Can I climb Mount Washington? And for this year, the answer was yes. And with a broken collarbone.
Alexa (L), on the podium
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My Strava time, which is not official race time (which includes standing on the bridge waiting for others to start after the starting gun has sounded), was 1:44:55, which was my second best time on the climb. I did have a PR for the first 7 km which tells me the wind and the cold may have done me in. Or perhaps a lack of endurance due to the collarbone break.
This wasn’t a day for riding but a day of celebration honoring Team Seattle’s finish. They started 70 days earlier and traveled more than 4,000 miles. I had promised my friend, Chey Hillsgrove, that if he did this ride I would greet him at the end.
Bremerton, Wash.
I stayed in Bremerton and checked the ferry schedule while at breakfast. I could hurry to make the 7:20 a.m. ferry or take my time for the 8:45 a.m. I took my time. I was first in line for the ferry – I must have just missed the 7:20 boat – and the guy in the booth encouraged me to go for a bike ride. What a great idea. I saw Bremerton on a bike.
Bremerton, Wash.
I arrived in Seattle and looked for Pike Place Market. I parked the car and then went for a bike ride. The waterfront was crowded and wasn’t as bike-friendly as Portland but I also found a waterfront bike path, the Elliott Bay Trail, which was nice. I checked the time and decided to cut the ride short to arrive in plenty of time.
Chey and Shelby
My friends, Kimber and Dale Polley had brought milkshakes and pizza for the riders. And my friends, Amy and Randall Hopkins, and their family, also joined the celebration (I think they came to see me).
Two Batmans. Chey and Zach. Credit: Amy Hopkins
The team arrived to cheers from their families and friends. They were quite giddy. Or silly. Or goofy.* Chey and Shelby Perkins, the team leaders each spoke and then invited a representative from the organization to talk about what the organization does. The representative was speechless. It was embarrassing. Chey then motioned with his hands – “well, you could tell them about this ride.”
Team Seattle. The End.
I’m not sure what the organization had for the riders except that Kimber had been trying for weeks to organize pizza and milkshakes. She finally did that on her own without a blessing from the organization.
Barry and Chey
It was truly a very awkward closing ceremony but their friends and family got to see one last cheer. And that was cool. They drowned out the guy performing close to them with a chainsaw.
It has been two years since I was able to ride to a family reunion. Yesterday’s forecast looked promising but just as soon as I left my parents’ place in Friedens, just north of Somerset, Pa., it started to rain.
What used to be a barn is now and auto sales lot in Davidsville
Riding with a broken collarbone I was a bit skittish as I rode. I was very afraid of having a spill on the road and landing on the collarbone. So I took it easy.
I stopped once an hour to take on food. While it was a just a gel that I normally take while I’m riding, I didn’t want to ride with one hand on the bars and one hand on the gel. It also allowed me to stop and take a one-hour photo to document where I was.
On the climb coming out of Johnstown on Rte 271
I have ridden the route enough to know the turns and climbs and find it quite enjoyable. The climb out of Conemaugh/Johnstown was quite enjoyable. I found myself with a comfortable pace albeit in the rain.
Horse poop. Amish Country. Three Hour Photo on PA 271 near Duman Lake Park
When I reached Northern Cambria, I stopped at the home of my 4th cousins, Don and Nancy Lowmaster. I had never stopped here before but warned them that one day I may stop for water. This was the day. Unfortunately, I was pretty squishy. When I moved you could hear water squishing. Nancy was great about cleaning the one bottle and refilling it with ice and water.
West Branch Susquehanna River near Cherry Tree. The river is so small here one can literally throw a stone from bank to bank.
As I left the skies really opened up. I was in a real downpour for the next 10 minutes but then the faucet was turned off for the day. By the time I reached Cherry Tree the sun was out, and other than my wet clothes, you wouldn’t have known it had rained.
Normally no one has every heard of Gipsy. But four months ago in Homestead, Fla., Craig Babst was talking about Gipsy like it was his hometown.
This was my first long effort since breaking my collarbone and I felt good. I feel as though I am starting to regain my form.
Day 7 of Ride the Rockies brought mixed feelings. On one hand, I could ride here forever but on the other hand, it felt like it was time to stop. Scott Olson and I began our day by eating breakfast at McDonalds which opened at 5:00 a.m. (like they should have).
Navigating road furniture in Cañon City
Once out on the open road the two of us stayed together through Florence. As we were leaving, and I was missing some photo ops, we were joined by two, then three other riders including a medic. And we were flying.
Quick photo in Florence
We were on our bikes before 7:00 a.m. Even trending uphill, we might arrive at the finish by 10:00 a.m. Scott was all in to do that but I was not. He wanted to get there, tear down and pack his bike, grab his luggage and catch a noon bus to the Denver airport. I had no where to go except Hays, Kansas, after the closing ceremony.
Saw this bike today Maybe I should have bought one around 2000-2001
After doing a pull for our group, I moved aside and let them go. One rider saw me and drifted back briefly to pull me back in but I told them to go on. I was happy riding my own pace. Quite happy, in fact.
They picked up 50, then 100, then 200 meters on me. Then I quit watching. I shouldn’t have. Moments later I came upon a rider standing in the right lane of two motioning all cyclists into the travel lane and away from the shoulder. I saw a couple of riders down on the shoulder. I hoped it wasn’t Scott. But it was.
SAG wagons are bad. This one is worse.
I stopped as did a second medic (one of our riders in the group was a medic and immediately was administering first aid) and quickly did what I could which was to help direct oncoming cyclists away from the danger spot – an uneven open seam in the concrete highway.
The Colorado State Patrol, on motorcycles, quickly arrived and an ambulance was not far behind. I was able to help lift Scott to put the board underneath him and then onto the stretcher. We made plans for me to pick up his bike in Colorado Springs after it was SAGged there but that would not be necessary as RTR took care of that.
“SAG” driver
Scott and another rider went to the hospital and I was pretty shaken up. It was hard to ride after that.
Rooster. A Norwegian rooster perhaps.
In comparison to the crash that I narrowly avoided, the rest of the day was uneventful. I rode slowly just talking to spectators and riders. At the second rest stop one rider saw the Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb jersey and asked me if I actually did that race. We chatted. He told me that wanted to try it but thought it would be too hard.
Just married Don’t know where this relationship is going but they will get there faster on a tadem
After the second Aid Station, I was passed by Ron Kiefel and his sister, Erlinda. I joined them for a couple of miles, long enough to tell him I didn’t know how they could race on when a teammate goes down. It does leave one shaken. I was still shaken. But I wasn’t invited to join the two of them and soon let them go.
Colorado Springs – The End
A few pictures. A few more miles and then I arrived the finish line. It didn’t feel like an accomplishment although many people were celebrating it as such. Volunteers were handing out pins. For me, it was just over.
Beautiful views at the finish
I loved Ride the Rockies. I was asked by Lauren Hunt of the Davis Phinney Foundation to return next year and ride for them – a real honor to be sure. The memories I take are not of the riding although hard to beat a six-mile stretch off Wolf Creek Pass where I averaged 40 mph. But I will remember the people – Chris and Erin, the kayakers in Telluride; George Hincapie and Connie Carpenter; Bob Roll, the rider from Haymarket; a veterinarian from San Diego; an 8-year-old boy at Oak Lodge in Pagosa Springs; Lauren and Jenna from the Davis Phinney Foundation; Ron Keifel and his sister, Erlinda; the paraplegics riding with hand cranks; and Margaret and John riding with Parkinson’s. And many more that I have left off.
A standing ovation for the Colorado State Patrol arriving in Colorado Springs
This is one event, maybe the only event, that I can see myself returning to.
On paper, the first 24 miles were uphill including the last eight miles up Wolf Creek Pass, a climb with switchbacks that crosses the pass at 10,856′. It was a daunting profile.
Rolling out of Pagosa Springs viewing the San Juan River
It was cold – the usual 48℉. Or less. I only wore arm warmers to keep me warm. The temperature here in the high desert was very cool or cold in the morning and then 100℉ by noon.
My legs felt like crap. This was not a good omen for climbing. Despite the profile showing all climb it seemed like there was a lot of downhill and old men and old women were passing me.Â
On the road (U.S. 160) to Wolf Creek Pass
On the bus ride out on Saturday, the guy I sat with mentioned to me that recovery, or lack of it due to altitude, will show up in Day 4 and I wondered if that was going to dog me today. It seemed that way. But why not Day 2 or Day 3?
One rider said this ranch we passed sold for $90M during the real estate boom
I pulled into the aid station at Mile 16 which also signaled the start of the real climb. The first 15 miles averaged one percent. Not much of a climb but still a climb. After using the port-a-john, they were generally very clean throughout the tour, I started the climb. This didn’t scare me. I think.
I did not have the tools or perhaps the courage, to look at the climb portion on Wolf’s Head. We stayed at 7,000′ in Pagosa Springs and would climb to 10,857′. The average grade for the next 8.5 miles was 6.5%.
When the legs hurt you see these guys with hand cranks. RESPECT!
This was to be the climb of the week. I decided I would occupy my mind by making a game of it. I would count every rider that I passed and count every rider that passed me. And hoped that I passed more than passed me.
Lauren Hunt (middle) of the Davis Phinney Foundation Scott Olson and I shared a breakfast table with her this morning.
I just chugged away. It was 60 to six in favor of me passing riders. Then 102 to 10. I kept going. At the top, I was briefly passed by a rider but passed him back before the summit finish for no change. In the end, I was passed by 22 riders, including former pro Wayne Stetina. I passed 240.
The scenery was stunning. No pictures could capture it well. Maybe if I had stopped and took pictures I could have, but I wanted to keep climbing without pause.
Each day there was a designated Aid Station with a disk jockey or emcee. Today he was at the top of Wolf Creek Pass. He was having an egg shampoo contest which was a regular feature for him. Well, it was no contest. Just if anyone was willing to smash an egg on their head and rub it in, he would give them a t-shirt. It was most popular with men who shaved their heads.
The top of Wolf Creek Pass
With the climb over, the rest of the day should be easy. On the profile sheet the descent looked like a 68-mile downhill. It wasn’t.
The ride off the pass was wild. It wasn’t quite straight as an arrow, but nearly, and didn’t seem terribly steep. But it was long. The first six miles were the steepest but there was a good 14 miles or so before it leveled off.
Riders on the shoulder approaching the tunnel on U.S. 160
I rolled off the top of Wolf Creek Pass and got in a tuck. Volunteers were warning us to take it easy and all riders I saw were on the shoulder. I took the lane. At high-speed, I don’t like riding on shoulders because there is often debris there that isn’t in the travel lane.
No words
Although not terribly steep, when one has long straight roads even at six percent grade one can pick up speed and I did. I hit 54 mph – a new personal best, and when I felt a little shimmy in the bike I decided 54 was fast enough. As I came to a tunnel I was warned of high winds at the other end and briefly applied the brakes. Heck, I stopped to take a picture.
The first six miles over the pass I averaged a nifty 40 mph. If only all rides could be like this.
After the aid station at South Fork, Mile 44, I rolled out alone. It was getting hot, it would be in the low 90s, and it was windy. It was tough being out in the wind and a group of about 30, which violated the RTR rules of no more than five in a paceline, came by. The guy at the end invited me to join. I could not resist.
The train was driven by four Belgians — four Belgians that I had passed on the climb. But they knew how to ride in the wind and they drove this and gave everyone a free ride. I felt bad but being on 30th wheel I was in no position to go to the front and help.
Hey look – Belgians!
After a rest stop in Del Norte (Mile 59) I rolled out with some folks that I had just ridden with in the big group. One guy did all the work and when we were passed close to the next station he had nothing left to stay with them. I went to the front and tried to take him back up to the group. I bridged up to them. He didn’t. But we were in Monte Vista.
In Monte Vista the Tour served hot baked potatoes. With green chili and salsa. Perfect.
Hot baked potato in a helmet
The next 18 miles to Alamosa were dead flat. I joined the group that I had finished with and was the only time I did not feel accepted. I took my pulls. But the alpha male in the group was a woman, Jane, from the U.S. Forest Service, and it just wasn’t a friendly experience. I was looking for an exit strategy but we were on Highway 160 which was under construction and had lots of truck traffic. There was no safe place to escape to. I rode with the group all the way to the school, Ride the Rockies’ headquarters, having passed by my hotel, the Hampton Inn, miles earlier.
In Alamosa
After some exploring of Alamosa, I finished off the day making it a century. Plus four.
Back at the hotel, a very nice Hampton Inn, I grabbed my bag which was sitting in the lobby. Our bags were picked up from the hotel where we stayed daily and dropped at our destination. Alamosa sits at 7500′ in elevation. With my bag in hand, I saw there was a long line for the elevator. I decided simply to take the stairs to the third floor. I made it about halfway to the second floor before I was out of breath. Riding was no problem at elevation but climbing was.
