Category: United States

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Alpine Gran Fondo

This was two events in one. Or at least that was my expectation. It was the inaugural Jeremiah Bishop’s Alpine Gran Fondo and a fundraiser for the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. The cycling event was pretty neat. The fundraising portion was disappointing.

First the cycling.

Jeremiah Bishop told me last night that he planned to call all the fundraisers upfront for the rollout. However, when we started, he got in position behind the police car and he called for bib numbers 1-15 to join him. Instead, a number of jerks simply move to the front. So most top fundraisers were pushed aside. Maybe they didn’t hear? I had Bib #3.

An Alpenhorn signaled the start

We rolled out and I was quickly in about 10th position. I think for at least the Gran Fondo riders (there were two other routes as well) we stayed together as a peloton for the first 11 miles. Once we got on US 33 the pace picked up or I started to drop back. Doesn’t matter. I was wearing four bibs on my back, the only person to honor or remember those fighting cancer, and I decided that no one would see them if I stayed in 10th position. So I drifted back.

Although not a race, we had two timed King of the Mountain climbs. The first one was on US33 and the peloton sped up as we approached the start of the climb then abruptly slowed down to make sure their timing chips were read. I stayed in the back. I was the last to go through although I think at this point we had a major split in the peloton and I foolishly had been hanging with the first group led out by Jeremiah Bishop.

The climb on the lower slopes of 33 was pretty easy but I thought I would catch and pass someone. Anyone. Nope, no one. Then about halfway up the climb some riders from the second group began to catch and pass me. In all, I was probably passed by 20 riders and passed no one. Nada. It’s the first time on a climb with other riders I don’t remember catching anyone. That’s what I get for hanging at the front.

View of West Virginia from the top of US 33

After a screaming descent where I caught some other riders, followed by a brief rest stop, we rolled out to our next turn and this warning sign: “Gravel.” If only it had just been gravel. It was a mud road. The GPS quickly registered 12% and I tried to find a line where I could sit and pedal. I made it up the first mile and a half then saw everybody ahead had dismounted and were pushing their bikes. The GPS registered 25%. I was determined to pass them all. Until all I did was spin. Then I joined them.

I thought I could go where no one had gone before but it was the wise decision to dismount before I fell. It would be fun to tackle this section on a day the road was dry.

I was wise enough to have brought cleat covers which I used while walking in the mud and dirt. Others weren’t so lucky as they reached the top of the climb and found their cleats wouldn’t clip in because of the grit.

Part of the mud climb. This section was good enough to ride.

The profile of the route shows four major climbs. The first, basically the first 23 miles, was on US 33 and had good pavement. The second, around mile 34, was the mud section. All of it. The third section, around mile 47, was on paved roads coming out of Franklin. The fourth, mile 62, was all dirt. Again.

Summit of the first dirt (mud) section. Lots of people walking.

Leaving the rest area at Franklin, West Virginia, was a short climb where I was passed by four riders. I was getting passed by everybody and had no response. It may have been my nutrition. Or just my suckage. I planned to take some gels, one for every 15 miles but left them in the van. Damn.

At the top of the climb coming out of Franklin, I summited then hit a four-mile descent. I took off and passed a couple of riders. My descending was excellent today. Then a six-mile climb began. And a partial transformation. About halfway up three men and a woman caught me. I stayed with them for half a mile then dropped off.

Riding by myself I was caught by Jim Mortson. Although he should have dropped me he either eased up or I picked it up but we rode together. About one mile from the top we passed the woman who had been dropped from their group. Then near the top in a 13-14% section, we passed the three men. All walking! I mentioned to them the story of the tortoise and the hair. Fear the Turtle! I hope they weren’t offended.

Jim and I rode to the rest stop at Moyers Gap Road. When we left there were five of us soft pedaling as the road turned to dirt. Unlike the first climb, this road wasn’t mud and one could ride it without spinning out. This was the road up to Reddish Knob.

There were a couple of cones off to the side of the road and a sign “KOM Start.” The King of the Mountain competition. We all kept pedaling. No attacks. Nothing hard. Someone mentioned they’d see us at the top.

I was the oldest of the five and had just been hanging with Jim and had no expectation of staying with him. As we climbed higher the road went from dirt to rocks. Not the loose rocks or heavy gravel but the rocks that were simply part of the road perhaps when the road was grated years ago they were just sheered off. Trying to find a line to ride without running over rocks was impossible.

One guy dropped behind us while two went ahead. Jim and I kept pedaling. I had no idea of the length and it was hard to judge from the trees. Each time I looked up I could see daylight through the trees and thought I was near the summit. I wasn’t. The two guys in front of us pulled over, the relentless climb getting to them.

Jim and I stayed together although at perhaps two miles from the summit he dropped behind me. I never looked back to see where he was.

Summit at Reddish Knob. End of the Dirt Road.

The road was tough to pedal and many times the grade was 11 and 12%. But it wasn’t a 12% average like Mount Washington. I calculated it to be an average 8.1% which is pretty formidable, especially with that road surface.

I continued on alone just wondering where the summit was. And I felt that I was getting stronger. Having already dropped everyone in my group (after believing it would be me who got dropped) I soon caught one of the riders who left the rest stop five minutes before we did. I continued on and the road started to flatten out with 1K to go. I picked up my speed and blew by a rider trying to sprint my way to the finish line although I knew I had no hope of an age group podium.

I went from feeling crappy to passing everyone I rode with. I could have continued on but waited for Jim to come over the top. He was five minutes back of me.

What was most refreshing was there was no cramping. Often at mile 50 or 60 if I have a long climb the “cramp monster” finds me. Today I felt good. And with Mount Washington type grades I did not have Mount Washington type gearing – just my normal gearing.

The descent was foggy and a little chilly but nothing like France prepared me for in July. Again I bombed it then waited to ride with Jim.

I gave up five minutes waiting at the summit and after the last rest stop maybe as much as 20 minutes more sweeping, waiting for a rider battling asthma. It’s not about the time of the ride – it’s just a ride – and there’s no way I was going to leave a struggling rider behind. Besides, I accomplished what I wanted to.

Having dropped all the climbers in my group on Reddish Knob I was feeling good. We hit some pretty steep rollers and I had drifted to the back to help our struggling rider. Then I made my way up the climb, catching and passing everyone in my group. One guy said, “I hate you.” I smiled. With that, I soft-pedaled then let them go and dropped back to sweep.

I didn’t post a great time but I enjoyed the ride. I didn’t understand the KOM was cumulative with two climbs and took my time on the first one – 14th out of 14 in my age group. On the second climb, I was 8th out of 14.

On the day I say it was 10% fun, 90% suffering and 100% satisfying.

Barry and Jeremiah
Source: Alpine Loop Gran Fondo Facebook Page

Now the fundraising.

My expectation was this was a cycling event/fundraiser which ultimately turned into a neat cycling event. Jeremiah talked of recognizing the fundraising teams but none was made. I spoke briefly with Robert Hess, the founder and president of PCAP after the event and shared with him better ways to improve participation and to get the message out. I think I was the top fundraiser with $1,000.29 but will never know. The 29 cents paying homage to the organization 29,000men.org.

Bike parking at the finish

Donating to this event was complicated compared to the sites at LIVESTRONG, Team in Training, and the MS Society. There, people can search for a participant and donate in their name. Their apps show the top fundraiser giving incentive to others chasing to recruit more donations. Donors like to see their names in the scroll. And maybe more importantly, while waiting at the finish for official results, the top fundraisers could have recognized, perhaps with prizes for certain thresholds.

I took all their Blue Ribbon cookies. Was that wrong?

This was a first-time event and they look forward to doing it again. Hard to improve on the awesome cycling but maybe they can improve the fundraising. 

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A Rough Rappahannock Ride

WASHINGTON, VIRGINIA

In the end, it was a rough day. It was a small group that attended this event perhaps kept away by cool, wet weather. The temperature was in the high 50s and there was rain on the first part of the route.

Rest Stop #1

Of the three routes on the Rappahannock Rough Ride, the 60-mile ride being the longest, riders were loosely lined up at the start with the longer distance riders at the front. When we rolled out there was a group of four, me, then perhaps 10-12 more riders.

The group of four was about 200 meters in front of me for the first half mile or so and I decided to bridge up to them. That worked well. A group of five. In the first 4-5 miles I pulled a lot then moved over to sit back. We stayed together although the shark’s teeth profile was challenging — just a series of ups and downs, nothing too long, just short steep climbs.

After averaging almost 19 mph for the first 15 miles I lost contact with my group on one of the hills and was caught by eight other riders. They went by me too.

Rest Stop #1

Then in the next mile, I caught and passed them and joined up with my original group. Strange how this happened. I didn’t turn myself inside out to get back up to the front. Just riding at my pace, so I thought, I rejoined them. The body reacts so strangely sometimes.

We stopped at rest stop one (of two) and got soaked from the steady rain.

Ready to roll, I headed out on my own and thought I rode 20 miles without seeing another rider, front or back. I knew I was on course because of the road markings, the occasional volunteer I’d see at an intersection, and my GPS had been uploaded with the course from last year.

Near Hume, I stopped to take a picture of a house I’d like to own and was passed by four riders who had probably been gaining on me the entire time.

Pretty nice house I’d say

After the Marriott Ranch rest stop, it seemed a number of us rolled out together although on the first hill my chain came off the inner ring, and turning around to pedal it back into place was enough to make me lose contact. I soloed home after that.

Marriott Ranch Rest Stop

I was tired and sore and just not feeling the same as I did last year. I checked my Garmin stats and confirmed, I was slower than last year. A lot. Riding time last year was 3:20 while this year it was 3:40 despite riding the first third of the course at almost 20 mph. Maybe I went out too fast. I did go out fast.

This was the fifth timed course that I rode this year that I could compare to last year. Beginning with SkyMass in the spring, then the Air Force Crystal Ride, Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb, then the Civil War Century, I have been slower on each and every event.

I can understand being slower on one or two but not all five. This is very discouraging. Father Time knows where I live and has found me.

 

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Contemplation

GORHAM, NEW HAMPSHIRE

CONFUSED AND A LITTLE BIT DAZED, I AM CONTEMPLATING MY FUTURE IN THIS RACE.

“The U.S. also has a select group of climbs that are among the most difficult in the world including Onion Valley Road in California, several Hawaiian giants, unique in that they gain up to and beyond 10,000 vertical feet of continuous climbing, and the incomparable Mount Washington in New Hampshire, which may be the toughest of them all.” – The Complete Guide to Climbing (Summerson)

I’m not sure what is next. Each year I did this race it was with a reason. In 2007 (canceled) then 2008 my goal was simply to climb the mountain. I did that but really suffered.

In 2009 I wanted to try it one more time with easier gearing. But I went while battling cancer.

Last year I wanted to go back cancer-free. And I did.

After last year’s ride, I told the event director, Mary Power, that I thought it was my last time up the mountain. She asked why. I told her she did not know how hard it was to drag one’s butt up that mountain. She said not to make that decision right away but wait until February 1. On February 1 I signed up for this year.

As the race got closer I got thinking that this would be it. It definitely would be it if I didn’t improve my time. Each year my time got marginally faster and with riding last month in France, especially climbing the Col du Tourmalet, Mont Ventoux, and Alpe d’Huez, I thought I might get a little bit faster. I resigned myself to the time that when I didn’t improve I would retire from this climb.

Entrance to Mount Washington Auto Road (as you exit)

My time did not improve. In fact, it was my worst time ever, 20 seconds worse than 2008 when I had normal gearing and crashed. At least then I lost at least 3-4 minutes in the crash with getting straightened up and walking 100 yards past a steep dirt section to get going again.

I’m not sure if I can retire when I sucked this bad.

I am trying to make sense of some factors that may have affected my time.

  • I weigh about 10 pounds heavier than last year
  • I did not ride the day before the race
  • Crappy breakfast at the Hampton Inn at 6:00 a.m.
  • Forgot my gels for the race
  • Screwed up the Garmin and had no sense of pace
  • Warmer than usual on the mountain

On the riders’ forum the night before I had met a rider who needed a ride. I told Jennisse Schule that we would meet at the tent at 7:30 a.m. After gathering Jennisse’s belongings, Cheri headed up the mountain and I decided to go for a warm-up ride.

Jennisse Schule

These things I don’t know about. Does it help me or hurt me to do a climb or ride 5-6 miles before this event? I rode seven but they were easy. I think.

It was then I realized I didn’t bring any food. Though tearing open a packet of gel is a difficult task on the bike on this climb, even ingesting one right before the race would have helped.

I was in the last group to go. We left at five-minute intervals. First the reds, then the yellows, followed by blue, purple, then green. I was nearly at the back of the green. Starting dead last. Again.

There was a pretty quick sorting out on the mountain. I seemed to fall in at the back of the split in our group.

It is tough. It is effin tough. The road is steep in the first two miles and the legs hurt. Breathing is heavy and you see riders falling. The mountain teases you to continue. The mind begs you to quit.

By the end of two miles, it seemed that no one was passing me. And I wasn’t passing too many people except for 23 people I saw off their bikes walking or resting. Occasionally I would pass someone who was pedaling.

The dirt section always haunts me since it was here that I crashed in 2008. I tell myself to remain seated so the rear wheel doesn’t spin out but the road seems packed hard enough to allow me to stand in a couple of sections.

Dirt Section (headed down after the race)

At Six-mile Curve the road really turns up. I remembered a sharp and steep curve but not the hill that follows.

The last couple of miles I passed a number of riders. Not quickly, but just slowly clawed my way past them.

Six-Mile Curve

In the second mile, I intended to press the “lap” button on my Garmin to record when I first stood while pedaling. Instead, I unknowingly pressed stop on the GPS unit completely ruining my recording of the race. Damn. I didn’t realize this until one mile later when I tried to check the percent grade of the section I was on and I saw it wasn’t recording.

At first, I was very disappointed in myself but then realized that it left me free to ride without thinking about elapsed time. Just pedal.

I felt pretty good for not having eaten in almost five hours and not having nutrition on the bike. Still, when I reached Mile 7 I checked the time and saw it was already 10:30 or so. I knew I was toast although how bad I wasn’t sure.

I turned the corner to the 22% wall and at first, stood then sat to climb it. I saw the time – 2:11 and about threw up. Although I started 20 minutes last I knew 1:51 was what I did three years ago. Oh well.

Approaching the finish line resigned with a crappy time

I stood one more time. For the camera. Then I crossed the finish line, collected my medal and blanket although I really didn’t need the blanket. The high temperature reached 59°  (15 C) and it seemed almost hot on the summit.

Almost at the top

Cheri parked as second to last car in so we were the second car from the parking lot down the mountain. And first in the Harts Turkey Farms food line.

We weren’t able to stay long at the post-race ceremony because we had to drive to Allentown, Pa. for the night. But the contemplation begins. Can I end my run of Mt. Washington rides with such a bad time? I have until February 1 to make a decision but I think I will be back for one more.

Getting ready for the drive home

And that will be it.

Promise.

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No Dogs This Year

PUNXSUTAWNEY, PENNSYLVANIA

Last year I biked from Somerset to Punxsutawney on consecutive weekends for family reunions. The lowlight was being attacked by Rottweilers and it has always made for some scary riding since. And the truth is, I have avoided that section of road ever since.

Today was a near-perfect day. Rain at the very start (I didn’t say it was a perfect day), cool enough to be comfortable although the sun eventually came out around Johnstown.

Coming out of Davidsville on Pa. Rte 403 there is a wonderful three-mile descent. The grade averages 6-7% and one can simply coast. In preparation for Mount Washington, I had removed the big ring off my bike so there was no pushing the speed to extreme heights. Traffic was light and respectful until some jerk came up behind me and laid on the horn. After he passed we approached a light and he stopped. He was very angry. He reached over to wind down his window (loser) and started screaming. “GET OFF THE F___ING ROAD!” I smiled and asked him why he was so angry. Just another day in the paradise of riding.

Arriving Johnstown I was passed by a large truck, slightly smaller than a dump truck. Just after passing me, it rounded a curve and a large piece of rebar came flying off the truck, crashing to the sidewalk and smashing into a telephone pole. A few seconds earlier that would have been me. Ouch.

In Johnstown, I passed Coney Island Hot Dogs. It was 8:30 a.m. I looked in the window and thought maybe they’d be serving breakfast but I saw a worker serving hot dogs. Who eats hot dogs at 8:30 a.m.? People in Johnstown, that’s who.

Conemaugh River Valley outside of Johnstown

The climb out of Johnstown on Pa. Rte 271 was nice. I could hear trains creeping in the valley. The cool air still enjoyable.

Twin Rocks

I followed 271 through Mundys Corners, Nanty-Glo, Twin Rocks, and Belsano Shortly after Belsano, I tried a new route – Snake Road. I thought at first it was named for serpents it soon became apparent that it was named for the way it snakes through the forest.

I came back to 271 and at Nicktown, followed it to Northern Cambria. I wasn’t going to take the shorter route through Marstellar and risk seeing those dogs again.

After Northern Cambria, I stayed on Rte 219 despite the warnings a bridge was out three miles ahead at Emeigh. It was. I simply took my bike and walked over it.

Bridge out on 291

After Cherry Tree, I used the Garmin for the first time to direct me. Each time I ride through here I seem to take different roads and I found some today. Once I got to Smithport, I knew exactly where I was going but there was one problem. Fresh oil/tar on the road. The last four miles had the tar and chip surface. Gravel is not a friend of road bikes and neither is tar. I arrived but the bike wasn’t in such good shape.

The worse sign a cyclist can see

Outside of the messy tar, it was a very enjoyable day on the bike. And no dogs.

Reunion Photo – Kay Walborn (far left), next to Barry Sherry

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The Problem With Roadies

SOMERSET, PENNSYLVANIA

Long before I owned a road bike, I was riding long distances and generally hating roadies. Now that I am one, I generally hate roadies. Well, dislike them.

Early in the season, I rode by myself from The Plains, Va. to Naked Mountain, and then some country roads. On the drive back I stopped at the Sheetz in Haymarket and saw Vince Amodeo next to the road. I went over to talk with him and learned he had been on a 50-mile group ride, by invitation, and within the first five miles, the group dropped him and a couple of other riders. The Problem With Roadies.

Yesterday I rode to Fredericksburg and yelled out five times “Morning!” to roadies I passed. The number of responses I got back? None. The Problem With Roadies.

Roadies are perceived as arrogant and snobbish. We ARE arrogant and snobbish. We don’t say hi to others when they call out. We drop riders who are a little bit slower than us.

I love to ride but I don’t want to be perceived as a roadie. Let me always enjoy the ride but always remember why I ride. To have fun. Slow down. Talk a little. Wait for those who are slower. And I can say that because I have been dropped many more times than I have had to wait for others.

Yesterday I started on the valley floor near Bedford, Pennsylvania. Following Pa. Bicycle Route “S” I went through New Baltimore but saw a sign for a covered bridge. Even though I was in a hurry to get to my niece, Emily Cramer’s, graduation party/picnic, I also took the time to stop and admire the bridge.

New Baltimore, Pa.

The road stayed flat, although in actuality it had been tilted slightly up for the first couple of miles. But once I turned on Wambaugh Hollow Road it turned up in a hurry. There were grades of 13-14% on this road as it crossed under the Pennsylvania. Turnpike. The Turnpike would go through Allegheny Mountain. I would ride over it on Pa. Rte. 31.

It was a nine-mile climb over the mountain and then had some extreme rollers all the way into Somerset. I was enjoying the descents and climbs too when I thought I saw someone far ahead. At first, I thought it was a cyclist. Then a walker. Then a tractor. Whatever it was was still pretty far away.

I had to climb then crest another hill and thought I would have caught it but when I went over the top I didn’t see a thing. I figured he turned off on a country side road. But on the next climb I saw and then caught him.

“It” was a fully loaded bike with gear off both sides and the back. The rider was standing and pedaling to get all that weight up the hill. I quickly closed the gap and then blew by him. As I did I asked “Where did you come from and where are you going?”

He replied “New York” and said he was following Rte 31. I told him I would wait at the top of the hill.

And so I met Rolf. From Denmark.

Rolf, from Denmark

He told me he was going to get something to eat in Somerset and I told him I would take him to a picnic. And so I did.

We showed up at Emily’s picnic and he was able to eat as much as he wanted.

Rolf had a wedding present and nice clothes on his bike for a couple who were getting married in Vancouver. On July 9. He’s not going to make it.

But everyday he rides until about 6:00 p.m. Then finds a place to sleep.

His adventures have taken him from Alaska to South America. Just following the wind. And the road. And occasionally with help and guidance of people he meets along the way. People who say hi. People who slow down and wait for others. I am glad I waited. The Problem With Roadies.

Rolf (L) and Barry (R) in Somerset, Pa.

People often comment and ask how I meet the most interesting people. Just slow down. Wait. Say hello.

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A Different Father’s Day Ride

MARSHALL, VIRGINIA

Two years ago I set out from Woodbridge to ride to Charles Town for Fathers’ Day. Dark clouds were in the air and the metaphor was obvious.  

Today there were dark clouds, and even a little rain, but no metaphors.  

There was a Potomac Pedalers “CC” ride out of Marshall, the Blue Ridger, and I first thought that I would drive to Marshall and ride with them to Rte 7 and then break off and head to Charles Town. But the more I thought about it the more I knew I didn’t want to join them.  

Their route would be in the traditional counter-clockwise direction which means they would put in 25 miles before they do any climbs. I wanted to climb Naked Mountain and Mount Weather.  

I watched them take off at 8:40 a.m. and I was on the road six minutes later. In the opposite direction. My route choice would let me do the climbs.  

It’s been a while since I climbed Naked Mountain in this direction. It kicks up to 17% on this grade. From Markham it’s a 3.5-mile climb to the top and from Rte 17 at Paris, it’s a five-mile grind to the high point on Mount Weather.  

My descent to Rte 7 got me to 47 mph. I could have gone faster but had to stop at the bottom of the hill. This is also where I met the Potomac Pedalers group. I left six minutes later and traveled 30 miles and climbed two mountains including 8.5 miles of climbing on two slopes in the time they went 25 miles and had no climbs. That was a slow ride and one I was glad not to be a part of.

And to be fair, they may have had a 20-minute rest break at the general store in Bluemont. I’m not a fan of long stops either.

At Rte. 7 I turned left (west) and headed down to the Shenandoah River. Following a new route, I took Shepherd’s Grade Rd to Wycliffe then Kabletown, before finding Old Cave Road.  

I never unclipped or put a foot down for 50 miles from the start until I got within a mile of Ashley’s place. At a railroad crossing that was blocked for repairs, I had to walk my bike over the tracks.

Old Cave Rd., Charles Town, WV

The uncertainty of what lies ahead weighed deeply on my mind two years ago. Today I thought of my life as a survivor. A much different Fathers’ Day ride.

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Air Force Crystal Ride

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

I’m not sure if I would have come back to the Air Force Cycling Classic had not Adam Lewandowski put out a call to The Bike Lane group to ride it together. So I decided I would come back even after not quite forgiving them for only crediting me with two laps last year instead of the eight that I had done.

Registration went smoothly. This year the timing chip was on a comfortable Velcro strap worn around the ankle. Hopefully, it worked as well as it fit.

Mass Start – Notice the white “German” FUCANCER kit

The course wasn’t quite the same as last year. This year it featured two turns of 180º which was a little hairy given the family nature of the cyclists.

On the first lap, I stayed with my team and even was taking a pull at the beginning of the second lap. Then amidst all the “bottle” warnings of bottles on the road from being violently shaken loose from the bikes – the pavement was awful – my Garmin GPS flew off. The mount broke although the Garmin was OK. I had to stop, go back, and gather it. I was done riding in my group.

I put it in my back pocket and pulled it out each lap to reset the lap. It seemed to pick up mostly although there are some places where it looked like I went off course. Maybe my mileage should be a little higher. 

At the end of the day I averaged 19.5 mph when moving, that is, when I’m not walking back to find my Garmin. And I got the “gold” medal for completing 8 laps within the 3.5 hour time window.

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America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride

SOUTH LAKE TAHOE, CALIFORNIA

Recovery continues.

Last year I set some cycling goals for my recovery. Well, not so much goals as trips. Return to Mount Washington. Go to France.

The excitement of doing this ride faded as time got closer. An unfavorable weather forecast and the feeling that I wasn’t quite ready to pack everything I needed contributed. My bike was being repaired and this was to be my dry run of tearing it down and flying with it before I flew to France next month. I became apprehensive.

My bike was not ready and my local bike shop gave me a rental/demo and that was the bike I would fly with. I flew into Reno yesterday then drove to South Lake Tahoe for check-in. It was cold and rainy. I hoped for better for the ride although the forecast was a high of 52° and showers.

Check-in

Out of the hotel by 5:00 a.m. this morning, I crossed the mountain to Stateline, Nevada where the ride would begin. It was cold and raining, hard at times. I grabbed my jacket but at 5:55 a.m. the rain stopped. I decided not to wear my cold weather shoe covers. Nor did I wear a base layer under my jersey. And I simply forgot my headcover to go under my helmet. I would regret those decisions.

Pouring in the parking lot

I was in line at 6:00 a.m., the earliest departure group from the Horizon Casino. I wasn’t that close to the front but think that in addition to the 15-minute interval start times they may have been sending us off in 5-minute groups as well. It was “wheels down” at 6:07 a.m. Then it started raining. On the roll-out, and it was an easy ride, we passed a bank that displayed the temperature — 38°.

There was something about today that I never experienced before on a ride. In the first 10 miles, it was effortless and that was due to more than just a basic flat profile. I felt I could ride forever. 

There were 3,300 registered participants but I wonder how many Californians and Nevadans simply bagged it because of the bad weather? This is Team in Traning’s (TNT) premier century event and 1,500 slots were taken by the TNT riders. Their bib numbers were purple whereas everyone else wore red. Throughout much of the day, I felt like we were crashing their party although we had them outnumbered. It just didn’t seem that way. So I joined them. I “low fived” TNT supporters at many places along the course. I yelled “Team” when I saw them and I encouraged the hundreds of TNT riders I passed on the road.

I would have liked to have been a TNT rider but was told by one of my ref crews a few weeks ago that the fundraising goal was “too high” to go to Tahoe. I asked a DC rider and was told $3900. Having raised $10,000 for LIVESTRONG, I didn’t think I could go to the well again for a free trip to ride. Also, I was not committed to the training aspect, listed as 4-5 months, to get riders ready for their first century ride. I’ve done plenty at that distance and while it would have been fun helping train or coach others, I didn’t have the time available for such a commitment.

I talked to a lot of people along the way. Almost everyone I passed I said “Morning” to (an abbreviated form of Good Morning) and for many, I asked where they were from. Many of the TNT folks had jerseys with their locations so I made it a point to talk to National Capital Area and Western Pa. riders. Go Stillers!

Around mile 7 or 8 one rider was beside me and we must have been going the same speed.

“Where are you from?”

“Marin”

Nice. We struck up a conversation and Rodrigo Garcia Brito would be my ride partner the rest of the way. It started like most conversations but we soon were riding the same speed and we just stuck together.

Facing a long day in the saddle, cold and wet, one could complain or simply go have fun. I went to have fun.

On the climb up Emerald Point

The climb up Emerald Bay was nice and we passed many riders. I checked my heart rate. It was in the 130s. Rodrigo said his was in the 160s. It was effortless going up the 9-10% grade. I knew then it would be a good day. While I froze.

I told Rodrigo that I remembered being here 15 years ago and there was a scenic view stop on the right. We had been on spring break vacation. We came to Tahoe and there was lots of snow in the mountains. Bethany was 15, Ashley 10, and Andrew 7. In town, we had seen some guy and it was almost that he was stalking us. Everywhere we went he was right behind. Creepy.

We drove up to Emerald Point and admired the view and the snow. As we were leaving this stalker drove up. He got out of his car and promptly fell on his ass. It was one of those moments that you shouldn’t laugh but the kids about busted a gut laughing so hard. And we did too. We never saw him after that.

I knew that I would have to stop for a photo op. And we found it. It was the first rest area too although we did not stop to rest or take on any food. Just a picture. In the freezing rain.

For my kids

We continued in the rain with a brief stop on a descent when Rodrigo’s sunglasses fell off. I stopped and eventually went back. By then a number of people had gathered. First, a car came by and just crushed his glasses. Second, by stopping, one rider crashed. Oops.

We made it to our first rest stop, used the porta-johns, took on some food, made a seat adjustment, then took off. We were both near hypothermic. I was shivering, shaking, and just couldn’t warm up. Riding in the cold was fine but that 10-15 minute break cooled us down. It would take about 10 minutes to warm up once we were back on the road.

Pretty impressive bike stand

Rodrigo is a big guy. He appears very strong and this was evident when we turned on Route 89 at Tahoe City to head to Truckee. With all the rain it was not a time to follow someone’s wheel like we normally ride. All you got was a mouthful of road spray.  Rodrigo gapped me and kept going, at times was about 100 yards out in front. I couldn’t match his pace on this downhill portion. But we came back together.

Snacks in Truckee

On the way back from Truckee to Tahoe City along the Truckee River, it was uphill and we stayed together. More than 50 miles had passed quickly and we stopped briefly at the Squaw Valley entrance – this the site of the 1960 Winter Olympics.

Squaw Valley

Although we saw some dark clouds ahead, we rolled into King’s Beach just as the sun was coming out and it warmed up to 50°, which seemed like 80°. Nice. We were greeted at the rest stop by Rodrigo’s family. His wife brought him new glasses. Very nice. And she warned of heavy rains ahead. Not so nice. And she would be right.

King’s Beach Rest Stop

We spent a lot of time at this stop. It was the lunch stop and I had a turkey sub. And lots of snacks. The food here was great. Rodrigo spent time with his family. We ate.

Rodrigo’s family

On the day I spent two hours off the bike. That is very unusual for me as I like to stop at 2-3 stops for a natural break, refill the bottles, then grab some food and eat while on the bike.

A Wall of Food

With Rodrigo’s wife and kids here, plenty of good food, and the warmth of the sun even though it was only in the low 50s, we probably stayed close to one hour at this stop.

Rodrigo and Barry

As we rolled out, Rodrigo, a one-time veteran of this ride, warned me about Incline Village. A number of the rich and famous have second homes here and I have been told that includes Brad Pitt and Bruce Jenner and the Kardashians. Maybe/maybe not. But Mike Love (Beach Boys) and Michael Milken do live here. (Read it on Wikipedia so it must be true.)

There’s a fake eagle suspended by wires above this house

If there was a place that I lost speed compared to the normal terrain it was here. Although there was a three-mile stretch of straight road along Crystal Bay, there were plenty of stop signs each with a volunteer or policeman to make sure bikes stayed in single file and each one stopped completely at the stop sign. A bit ridiculous that four bikes with no traffic following couldn’t roll-up side by side, slow down to 2-3 mph, then take off. But those are their rules and we played by them.

We turned back onto Rte 28 for the ride up Spooner Summit. Here a real break occurred in the riders. Riding casually, we had been passed by two women of the DC Chapter of TNT. We soon caught them and they had joined a group of six or seven, all riding single file on Rte 28. We stayed together until the road turned up. One of the women dropped. So did Rodrigo. The woman I was following passed everyone until there was just the two of us.
It started raining again. Heavy this time. The rain turned to sleet. There was just the two of us until she dropped. Then it was just me on the climb. 

I passed one woman who asked how many miles we had ridden. I looked down and told her 82. She didn’t believe me and then I said “if you’re riding 100.” She said wasn’t. There were 72 (no trip to Truckee) and 35-mile (boat across the lake) options too.

Just minutes before this photo this rest stop was covered by hail stones

One week ago I sucked. It hurt going up Skyline Drive and it hurt more going up Massanutten. I thought Father Time finally caught up to me. And I was ready to quit. Visions of leading C and D rides danced through my head.

View from rest stop on Spooner Grade

And now at Mile 80, my legs felt as fresh as the first thing in the morning. Never have I ridden 80 miles and my legs felt like this. I wish I knew the secret. No, it’s not EPO or Clenbuterol.

Going up to Spooner Junction

What was different about the three or four days prior to this ride that was different about SkyMass? Too much riding? Too little riding? Nutrition? Altitude?

Not only did I climb well, the entire ride was from 6,000 feet to 7,100 feet except for the dip to Truckee which was 5,900 feet. I thought less O2 in the air meant fewer blood cells and less recovery. More soreness. I don’t know.

Tunnel on U.S. Rte 50 back to South Lake Tahoe, Ca.

From Spooner Summit it was about a 14-mile descent to the finish line with a few rollers at the end. I had been warned that the route was not quite 100 miles so I passed the finish line and circled back to make it 100.

Finish Line

I’ve never been dirtier from a ride than this one. Just lots of sand along the road made worse by the rain. We rode 32 miles in steady or heavy rain but 68 miles without it. Of course when we weren’t being rained on we were still soaked. My white cycling socks will never be white again and I wonder if they will ever dry out.

Brand new bike never been ridden before. Filthy. Sorry.


But I’ve never felt fresher after a ride than this one. No soreness. It wasn’t my best time on the bike but I wasn’t going for time. I just never felt better during or after a ride of this length. In addition, the weather conditions made it a test of willpower.

Logistically, I wanted to do this as a test trip before I go to France. That passed. I built and tore down the bike and am comfortable with those minor repairs. Last year I went to France with Trek Travel and they supplied the bikes. In a few weeks, I will be going on my own and carrying my own bike.

This was a day reserved for appreciating beauty and celebrating being cancer-free. Not only was this one of my recovery goals it was also National Cancer Survivors Day. I never thought I’d do a six-hour century (riding time) here and I didn’t try. With the slow down and stops in Incline Village, the most stop lights I have encountered on a century ride, and a slow rollout at the beginning, I had no dreams of anything less than seven hours on the bike.

Post Ride Meal – Reno, Nevada

Just one week after suffering on SkyMass, I felt great on the bike. Father Time, I guess it’s not my time. Yet.

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Escaping Father Time

FRONT ROYAL, VIRGINIA

SkyMass is always a good test of fitness. And sometimes a giant slap in the face.

Starting at the water’s edge in Front Royal, one begins with a 7.2-mile climb on Skyline Drive. That is followed by a two-mile descent and then another eight-mile climb. A two-mile descent follows then another three-mile climb. You get the picture.

This was a Potomac Pedalers ride and I had hoped there would be 30-40 riders at the start. Instead, there were eight. And one had to turn back after 10 miles when his rear derailleur cable broke.

On the first climb not long after entering Shenandoah National Park, I shifted and my chain briefly came off the front chainring. On a flat road this is no problem as I can soft pedal and bring it back onto the sprocket. On a 7% grade this is more of a problem. I quickly lost my momentum and could not unclip quick enough. Gravity won. I steered into a ditch and hit the ground pretty hard but nothing was hurt except my pride.

SkyMass 2011

With the group now in front of me, I simply had to ride at my own pace and catch them 10 miles later although they were never more than a couple of hundred yards ahead of me. I see you – I just can’t catch you.

Skyline Drive. SkyMass 2011

With Mike turning back, there were seven on the ride and three guys went ahead. Four of us would loosely stay together for the rest of the ride.

Thorton Gap. SkyMass 2011

At Thorton Gap, where US 211 crosses under Skyline Drive, we saw an approaching storm that would largely miss us. We followed 211 down to Luray (LOO-ray) and then over to Massanutten Mountain. Here the road kept getting harder. It was only a 3-mile climb which started out as 6-7%, pretty much the same grade as much of Skyline Drive. But the last mile kicks up to 10% then 12%, then 15%. There was even a stretch of 18%.

Shenandoah Valley

I had decided to let the group ride ahead and at one point, maybe twice, I looked up and saw our group leader of the day, Greg Gibson, off his bike either walking or simply resting. It was quite a test.

Thorton Gap. SkyMass 2011

We regrouped at the top and hit the descent off the mountain into George Washington National Forest. The Fort Valley Road featured no more climbs but a series of rollers. I found that while I stayed with the group when we came to some risers I just couldn’t match their pop over the top. I sat up and let the group ride on and decided to meet up at the rest stop.

Storm is Coming. SkyMass 2011

After the stop, we rolled off together. Again, I couldn’t match the accelerations at the end of the rises. The group was kind enough to wait at the last turn as we turned onto Mountain Road. That featured our last climb of the day and like the earlier one on Skyline Drive, a brief shifting moment led to a stuck chain and this time, a hard fall on the floor. Bloodied and beaten, Mike, a British rider waited for me and we rode home together.

Blood!

My injuries were minor; a lacerated pinky, and some road rash on my elbow, and a little on the knee.

At the end of the day, my speed was 14.5 mph which was 0.5 less than when I rode this 13 months ago. With each ride, I wonder if Father Time will reach out and grab me, and today I worry more than ever that he did. One year ago I was just five months from cancer surgery. And I rode faster than today.

I think on that day we stayed together the entire time and I don’t remember a mile when I wasn’t pulling, or more likely, hanging on someone’s wheel. Today I doubt that I was on someone’s wheel more than 15 miles of out 80 and 10 of those were the last miles home as Mike and I rode together.

Maybe it was just a bad day in the saddle. Or maybe Father Time has got his grip on me. Maybe two crashes, which were really fall overs, took their toll on me. I do note that I rode over 5,000 miles last year with only one such incident — with a woman and her dog. And today I had two on one ride.

At the end of the day, I still completed a tough route which was better than sitting at home on the sofa.

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