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.
The temperature was 37° when I headed out for my New Year’s Day ride. The road in Camp Harmony was mud covered by ice. I tried to stay on the side in the mud rather than risk spilling on the ice.
Memories abound at Camp Harmony. Last year I was one month removed from cancer surgery. My exercise last year was to walk up Plank Road during a blizzard. And dealing with post-surgical issues.
This year I had to ride. Bundled up, I started up Plank Road to Slagle Hill Road. It started raining. I thought my ride would be cut real short riding in a cold rain but I lasted longer than the rain.
Plank Road
My descent down Slagel Hill could have been fun but the road was treated with a dirty black gravel mix, presumably with salt. But unlike treated Virginia roads which are noticeably white, these roads were black. In short, the descent was pretty treacherous.
Lake Quemahoning
At Mile 4 I stopped to photograph the steel grate bridge, presumably called the Green Bridge since this was Green Bridge Road. At Mile 8 I could have turned up Plank Road and made a nice 10-11 mile loop but I continued to Hollsopple. I had ridden this stretch three times last summer; once in a Somerset-Johnstown-Ligonier loop, and twice on my way to Punxsutawney. It’s much nicer in the summer.
Green Bridge
I followed Whistler Road next to Stoney Creek. Stoney Creek flows from here to Johnstown. A cyclist on this road is a rare site – even more a cyclist in January.
Hooversville
At Hooversville I saw a suspension bridge and knew I had to follow it. It crossed the Stoney Creek over to Hooversville Road.
I then took Hooversville Road up to Plank Road then back to camp just as the rain started to come down harder. A 20-mile loop is a great way to begin 2011!
With very tired legs and a body to match, I arrived at the hotel shortly after midnight and was asleep by 1:00 a.m. I got up at 5:00 a.m. and headed out of the hotel to Montgomery County Community College for check-in at 6:00 a.m. And no breakfast.
I went to get my ride packet and the volunteer handed me a top contributor’s jersey. That’s all. Thankfully another volunteer corrected her and told her that I get level C (jersey) and the gifts with levels A and B too. But I didn’t get the iPod and will dispute that with them afterward.
Last year I checked in and they rang cowbells and made an announcement that I raised $2900. It was actually more. It was a very welcome introduction.
This year I raised $5,000 and nothing. Sort of disappointing. Maybe more disappointing was that I had qualified for the recognition dinner last night but had to miss it as I was en route from Mt. Washington, New Hampshire to Philadelphia.
I returned to my car and started the assembly of my jersey. I wore the new LIVESTRONG jersey and added my race bib, my honor bib, my memory bib, and my survivor bib. Before I rode I posted a picture of my bibs on Facebook with this heading “Really wish we didn’t need these events.” Then I made my way to the start line.
Livestrong-Philly (2010) Jersey and Bibs Lots of people honored one person. I honored a bunch! More names were written on the back too.
At the start line, I could hear Lance Armstrong address the crowd but could only see the back of the stage and his legs. He addressed the 3,300 cyclists and said that he looked forward to a day when we could gather and just ride. He said, “I really wish we didn’t need these events.“
After the comments from Lance, the ride went off 10 minutes late at 7:40 a.m. It was announced that he would ride 100 miles but I heard he cut it short at 45. It was dry at the start but around Mile 20 it would start to rain and it rained steadily and hard at times.
Some of the 3300 Cancer-Fighting friends at Livestrong-Philly
The start was slow, it took perhaps 4-5 minutes before I began moving even though the front of the 100-mile riders had already departed. The first 7-8 miles consisted of working my way farther and farther toward the front. I blew by the first two rest areas and reached the intersection of where the 70-mile group turned but the 100-mile group continued for 30 miles.
I was told that shortly after I went through the intersection LIVESTRONG closed the 100-mile route due to the weather that was moving in. There weren’t too many of us who got to ride 100 on the day. Call me lucky.
Raining at Landis Store. Love how the riders tried to crowd under the tent for protection even though they were soaked.
I was a little sore from yesterday’s climb up Mount Washington but not so much sore as simply without power. When I came to Landis Hill, the longest and steepest hill on the route I wanted to walk like I saw others doing, but knew I couldn’t. I had all the excuses — Mount Washington, four hours of sleep, a 12-hour drive, no breakfast — but knew I had to keep going. And I did.
Rest stop #9 (or #10?). This was at mile 90 and was marked SURVIVOR REST STOP. I stopped hoping for some survivor swag but no one there knew why it was called that. So I ate cake.
A number of people complained about the rain. My standard response was that fighting cancer isn’t bright and sunny. Metaphorically speaking, I expect a rainy day.
I was most disappointed that no one commented about my bib – FU Cancer. In a crowd of people who hated cancer, not one person. One did say “I like your bibs.” And that was all.
Yellow rose at the finish line – Livestrong-Philly 2010
When I saw the sign for 30 miles to go I started rehearsing what I would do when I crossed the finish line. Last year was tough. For many survivors who cross the finish line, it is the end of a difficult journey. For me, it was the realization that my journey had just begun. And it was tough.
A Century must be 100 miles, no?
Crossing the line as a survivor is emotional. I can’t explain it but you can ride 99 miles and be fine and when you come to the finishing chute in the last mile it becomes very emotional. I wish for none of my friends to ever know what I’m talking about. Today would be different. I was looking forward to crossing this finish line with positive emotions.
After riding all day with no power left in my legs (thanks, Mount Washington) at Mile 90 my legs came back. I started passing people. Tons of people. I both wanted this moment to last but yet wanted to get to the finish.
With one mile to go the sun came out. It would be the only time I would see the sun all day. I entered the right side of the chute for survivors. My final 200 meters went way too fast. Or I went way too fast. I hope they had photographers to capture the moment because I grabbed a rose and held it in the air and almost ran over some people who had stopped. Oops.
On the day the Challenge was only 97 miles. So I rode the extra distance, with the rose between my teeth, to make it 100. It had to be 100.
Livestrong-Challenge Philly 2010 The Rose and the Jersey are from the Livestrong Event The blanket and the medal are from MWARBH
After I changed out of my soaking wet clothes, I went to the luncheon in the tent. I wore my Mt. Washington Auto Road Hillclimb shirt. Strangers came up to me to ask about the race. Was I doing it? (Yes, already did – yesterday.) What gearing did I use? (24:28) Did you know my friend rode it yesterday? (Uh, no, I don’t think so.)
Wear a bid that says “FU CANCER” and none of the 3,300 cancer fighters wanted to acknowledge it. But put on a Mount Washington shirt and strangers come up and talk. Even with people who hate cancer, they don’t want to talk about it.
Livestrong Challenge Philly 2010 – It’s raining pretty hard
Right after I got back to the car a deluge occurred. Just another day fighting cancer.
Livestrong Challenge Philly 2010 – It’s raining pretty hard
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.
I came to the mountains to ride and was not disappointed. I left my parents’ place in Friedens and headed north to Stoystown. Rte 281 has no shoulders and moderate traffic but is generally friendly from Friedens to Stoystown.
Farm on Plank Road near Stoystown
I had a nice descent past Camp Harmony and the Quemahoning Reservoir. I went to Ferndale then crossed the river into Johnstown.
Quemahoning Reservior
Coming out of Johnstown I followed Menocher Blvd (Pa. Rte 271) which turned out to be a neat 11-mile mountain climb to the top of Laurel Hill Summit. When I lived in Rector in the 70s this was Laurel Mountain. Now it’s a hill.
Downtown Johnstown – Inclined Plane on the hillside
I was disappointed that I only could get my bike up to 48 mph coming off the mountain. I surprised my niece, Bekki Reese, when I stopped at her place in Waterford. I told her someday I would and it would be a complete surprise. Today was the day. She gave me water. Yes!!!
Rte 271 between Ligonier and Johnstown
From Waterford, I rode into Ligonier. This is one of the prettiest towns in Pennsylvania and perhaps, in the U.S.
The Diamond in Ligonier
I left Ligonier and rode up Rte 711 to Darlington Rd towards Rector because I knew I could hit 50 mph on that hill. But as I was descending I saw a sign for Bridge Out Ahead. Brakes!!!! If I wanted to return the shortest way to Somerset I could have followed Rte 381 to Jones Mills and then took Rte 31 to Somerset. Instead, I turned around and climbed the hill I just flew down. It was a 12% grade beast in places.
Rte 381 bridge in Rector
I returned to Ligonier then followed U.S. Rte 30 to Laughlingtown where I took a short nutrition break at the Pie Shoppee (the more letters in the name the more expensive it is). Leaving Laughlingtown I climbed for 3,5 miles to the top of Laurel Mountain — also marked as Laurel Hill Summit.
Compass Inn in Waterford, Pa.
When I was 16 years old, I was the captain on a tandem and took my blind stoker up this same climb. Not sure our parents knew where we were going that day until I proudly announced where we had been. Today I rode up the mountain. In 1971 we walked the entire way.
Crossing Laurel Mountain Again – Rte 30 between Jennerstown and Laughlingtown
About four miles north of Somerset I stopped at the Quecreek Miners’ site where nine coal miners were lifted to safety from what would have been their watery grave back in 2002. For days eight years ago the nation watched with interest to see if the miners could be rescued alive.
Rescue Site, Quecreek Mine
I returned through Somerset, stopped and visited another niece, Hannah Cramer, before returning to Friedens. After 86 miles the legs felt good and I was tempted to go ride another 14 miles to make it an even 100 but my mother had made dinner so it was a good end to a great ride.
For five months I looked forward to this day – the day that I would be back on the bike and come back to these mountains.
Much of 2009 was a blur with an illness and then a diagnosis of cancer. Most waking hours were spent thinking of cancer and quite a few sleeping moments as well. The only time I was completely at peace was on my bike.
I came to these mountains to enjoy their beauty and to getaway. Generally, when I was on my bike I thought of nothing else except riding. It was especially so when I was in the mountains.
I rode “The Wall” by Horseshoe Curve four times last year. I also went to the White Mountains in New Hampshire and was able to lose myself in thought. Truly, I found peace on my bike and in the mountains.
David Vito
We loaded up six riders in Reston, Va., at 7:00 a.m. and drove to Altoona, arriving by 10:30 a.m. It was “wheels down” at 11:00 and we headed out to Frankstown Road. We were greeted by an unexpected one and one half mile climb.
I had promised three great climbs and three screaming descents on my planned 100 km route. As we waited at the top of the hill – this was a no-drop ride – I had to rethink the 100 km route as everyone complained about not being in riding shape. I adjusted.
Kelly Noonan
Adjustment number one was we turned at Newry and started an 11 mile climb but at 2-3%, up to Puzzletown. In Puzzletown we turned on Valley Forge Road. Here I hit 48 mph – pleased, but then disappointed that I couldn’t push it to 50 mph.
Scott Scudamore leading the group up Valley Forge Road
We turned on Old U.S. 22 and began the seven mile climb to the top of the mountain. Once at the stone arch, we went through the Portage Railroad National Park and cut over to Gallitzin for a short break at a country store.
Then we earned our seven mile descent down Sugar Run Road. Three of us formed a paceline while the other three were content to ride it at a more reasonable speed.
At the bottom, we made our way over to Horseshoe Curve and split our group. A bit of a mutiny as Kelly Noonan and David Vito decided to sit out yet another climb, the steepest of the day too. The early season “big ride” was perhaps too much. But we pushed on.
David Vito at the base of Sugar Run Road
I was only disappointed as this was the climb I wanted everyone to experience. Although I was saving the best for last, perhaps we should have gone up this climb first. But we got everyone up and over the top, back to Gallitzin and down Sugar Run Road again. Then we made our way back to the van.
Kelly, David, and Vince at the bottom of Sugar Run Road
In a recovery that is slower than I want, I can say this was the best day I have had since surgery. I really needed this day.
As for peace on a bike, Kelley remarked to me that riding in Altoona one can only think of the suffering on the climb or the fear of descending at breakneck speed. “No wonder you never thought of cancer while you rode here.”
My early season riding began with a climb to the top of Blue Knob Ski Resort and included back-to-back weekends in August climbing Horseshoe Curve’s 18% “wall.” It is simply one of my favorite places to ride. But my cancer diagnosis made these mountains even more special. It was here where I could get away from cancer and find peace on my bike.
With Fall approaching and my season hitting the “wall” quicker than when climbing it, I took the opportunity to go to East Freedom, Pa. for one last ride in the mountains as I fully fight this cancer battle.
Statue of Liberty at Blue Knob
My ride took me up Pa. Rte 164 to the crossroads at Blue Knob. This was a seven-mile climb with long sections of 8% grade. It is a two-lane road with no shoulder but not heavily traveled either. And every single car gave me a wide berth when passing.
At the summit, I found a taste of New York. Their very own Statue of Liberty. Who knew?
14% Grade
I spotted a sign — “14% grade (next) 7 miles.” It was heaven! Nowhere can I find an equivalent grade to Mount Washington — 7.6 miles at 12% average. But this held promise. At last, a training ground for Mount Washington.
I braced for my descent because 14% can be quite dangerous on a bike. But it wasn’t to be. By my calculation, there may have been a section that was 10% but it didn’t last long. And it soon flattened out. Who makes these road signs anyhow? It was just a tease.
Also by my calculation, and my gut feel on the bike, from Blue Knob to Puzzletown was 4.5 miles at a 5% grade.
Allegheny Portage Railroad
From Puzzletown (can anyone figure out what they do there?) I traveled Valley Forge Road and found a sign for a 12% downgrade was close to an actual 12% which led to a 12% climb. Or more. But only for a mile down and a mile back up.
On Valley Forge Road
Reaching Old U.S. 22 I had a 5½ mile climb to the summit. For much of the climb, there were two lanes upward, divided, which meant that cars could easily move to the left lane to avoid getting too close to me. I rode on the right side of the white line but for a long stretch, there was very little shoulder. Yet more often than not cars gave me no berth and two idiots honked their horns at me like there was somewhere I could go. Into the woods, perhaps.
For about 30 minutes my mind was playing games trying to analyze why most drivers on a two-lane road would give me wide berth and cross into the oncoming lane and these drivers wouldn’t move over to the empty lane that was going in the same direction. Old US 22 would be used mostly by locals — locals who may believe it was faster and should remain faster than getting on the new US 22. Locals who believe the road belongs just to them. I just don’t know. Maybe people are jerks. A revelation.
Allegheny Portage Railroad
I never visited the Allegheny Portage Railroad Historic Site and always wanted to. And today I could. I am always intrigued by old-time engineering marvels and this was one of them.
Allegheny Portage Railroad – Lemon House
Operating from 1834 to 1854 it was built to carry barges from Johnstown to Hollidaysburg which connected river traffic between the Ohio and Susquehanna Rivers. It consisted of 10 inclined planes (think of the Inclined Plane in Johnstown or the Duquesne or Monongahela inclines in Pittsburgh).
Allegheny Portage Railroad – Incline Number 6
At the summit I was looking for a road over to Gallitzin but never found one. I saw a truck with U.S. Government Plates and stopped it and asked for directions to Tunnelhill. When I balked at the park ranger’s first suggestion, riding on U.S. 22, she told me to cut through the Allegheny Portage Railroad Park. Even though it was gated, she assured me that I could and I was surprised at the site and delighted in that it did take me to Tunnelhill Street.
I was glad I did. I would have never seen the Lemon house, other than from the road, or the tracks of Incline Number 6.
In Gallitzin, I met a local who encouraged me to go to the Gallitzin tunnels. He didn’t tell me the road to them was straight down. But it was. One can stand on a bridge and see the trains coming through the mountain. I wonder what’s it’s like to live above the tunnel?
Imagine living above a train tunnel
The climb back up to Tunnelhill Street was a neat 14-16% grade. But at 27 miles, that would be the last real climbing of the day.
From Gallitzin, it was a straight shot down Horseshoe Curve Road (Glenwhite Road) past the famous landmark and three reservoirs.
Horseshoe Curve
I’m not complaining because every ride up Horseshoe Curve is a good ride but who the heck thought of a process called chip and tar? The descent down to Horseshoe Curve can be screaming, especially when coming down off The Wall but the upper portion of this road had recently been chipped. Or tarred. Maybe just chipped. Without tar.
A 4-mile climb to the summit, sections of 18% grade and a 200′ tunnel. Life doesn’t get any better than this.
There were no line markings. Descending was tricky because with the loose gravel, er, I mean “chips,” one could easily slide out. Once I got to the good pavement I could let it roll.
Because of mine drainage, there are channels to keep the acid water out of the reservoirs
The rest of the ride was simple exploring as was all but the Gallitzin to Horseshoe Curve portion. I wrote down some simple directions and followed those but was unsure when I was in Hollidaysburg where I should travel to next. There was a service station with a store and I needed to replenish my water.
I walked into the convenience store and it reeked of cigarette smoke. All I could see was shelves of cigarettes and chewing tobacco. I turned to the sales clerk and asked “do you sell anything healthy in here?” I’m a jerk.
When she asked what I meant I simply asked for water. Outside was a visibly pregnant mother smoking, waiting with the dog while her husband bought more cigarettes. I wanted to scream at her “GIVE YOUR CHILD A CHANCE!” But would good would have it done? I am reminded that this is still Appalachia and a cyclist with shaved legs wearing Lycra is the stranger here.
Actually a very steep portion of Glenwhite Road
I will miss riding in Altoona. Each of my trips involved meeting special people. On the first, I met John Griffin who lives in a house where I lived 50 years ago. He invited me in. On the second and third I met and rode with riders from Spokes and Skis — Joel, Richard, Bryan, and Stacey. Also there was Stephanie from Panera. And today I had a park employee let me cut through the park, a local send me to the tunnels, and two others point me in the right direction when I was unsure. Really unsure.
I’m afraid this is the end for a while. I have hit the wall.
The climb up Mount Washington is an accomplishment of personal achievement of one story to be told. Riding in the LIVESTRONG Challenge-Philly was a much different accomplishment. Here there are 6,500 stories to be told.
There’s a real sense one can beat anything by reaching the summit on Mount Washington. Likewise, there’s a real sense that one can beat anything by seeing 6,500 people come together and raise $3.2 million for cancer research and education and support.
At check-in, the volunteer, in a long table of volunteers, opened her notebook and saw my fundraising total — then more than $2,800 although it grew to more than $3,000 by the time I had left the table. She yelled out my name and announced how much money I raised for Livestrong. Everyone in the tent cheered.
Bikes at Landis Store – Livestrong Philly 09
Because the checks that I carried had not yet been credited to my account, my total went to $3,050. And $3,000 was the threshold for an invitation to the LIVESTRONG recognition dinner to be held at 6:30 p.m. I thought “a dinner’s a dinner” and wasn’t going to attend. Even less so when I was told the dress was business casual. I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt — a LIVESTRONG T-shirt to be sure, but still, shorts and a T-shirt. And that was all I had brought with me.
The volunteers told me that I must attend and so I did. Ninety minutes later I found myself being served H’ors devours by black-tie waiters to me in my shorts and T-shirt. There weren’t many people by themselves — most had family members with them. I was a little lost and found myself standing next to a bald man — about 30. I saw his name tag. It was Ethan Zohn — winner of Survivor-Africa.
Lance Armstrong could not attend as he was racing the Tour of Ireland. He did send a video message and asked Ethan to be the keynote speaker.
Everyone has a story. Lance’s personal friend, John “College” Korioth, kicked off the evening with many stories about Lance. I won’t do any of them justice but will try this one.
After Lance’s surgery, they decided they would fight cancer. It began with fundraising and they set off to raise $25,000.
“Hello. I’m raising money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
“You know, he’s the cyclist that had the surgeries for cancer. He rode in the Olympics.
“No, that would be Scott Hamilton.
“Well, he lost a testicle to cancer.
“No, that would be the Phillies’ first-baseman, John Kruk.”
And here, College smiled and said, ‘Lance hates this next part.’
“No, he’s a cyclist. Like Greg LeMond. Only he’s never won the Tour de France.” And that was the beginning.
Elden Nelson, blogs on FatCyclist.com. I would say there were 30 people or so that raised at least $3,000 for LIVESTRONG-Philly even though there were a couple hundred people in attendance. Many people were part of his team, FatCyclist. He has a national following which helped Team Fatty raise more than $250,000 for the Philly event and for the three Livestrong events so far this year — more than $625,000.
College spoke, then Eldon, then Ethan. The night was running late and I had to get back to the hotel, decorate my shirt, and get up at 5:00 a.m. Regrettably, I had to leave before the event was over.
A sign to make, break, or challenge riders up to Landis Store – Livestrong Philly 09
Morning came much too soon. A quick breakfast and I was off to the event. There was a three-mile backup on Germantown Road to Montgomery County Community College and I was creeping. I was in it at 6:45 and by 7:20 was still 1.5 miles from the event start. So I drove into a residential section, parked, and biked in, getting there just before the 7:30 start. And learned the start had been pushed back to 8:00 a.m.
At the start were queues for the various distances. Ten, 20, 45, 70, and 100-mile rides were offered. Many riders wore a LIVESTRONG jersey, at times it seemed that almost half wore the black and yellow. I chose to go with my Amgen Breakaway From Cancer jersey. I received a number of compliments on it and saw no one the entire day with a similar jersey. I love being unique.
Posing with the Devil – Livestrong Philly 09
As group winners, Fat Cyclist riders were allowed to go first. Imagine starting a century ride with a group of fat riders in front. Actually, while they had some portly riders, many are drawn to this group because of their mission and not because they are overweight.
I don’t know the exact numbers but think nearly 1,000 riders started out with the 100-mile ride and we were the first group to roll out. Still, it took 10-15 minutes from my middle-of-the-pack position to make my way to the start line.
The first 20 miles were spent just sorting things out. Letting the slower riders drop back and getting the faster riders to the front. In my haste to park and get to the start line, I left all my food in my van. Still, I rolled past the first two rest stops to try to get closer to the front group of riders.
Rest Stop 4 – Livestrong Philly 09
As the route rolled through the countryside, signs greeted us alongside the road and people came out of their houses to cheer. And high-five. I probably slapped the hands of 20 people standing along the route including the Devil himself. Maybe he was drawn to my bike number still on the bike from Mount Washington which was 667. Well, in handing out numbers for Mount Washington they were in sequence to 665 then skipped 666 to give me 667. I know I had 666 no matter what was on my bike. And I guess he did too.
I stopped at rest areas 3-6 and even an impromptu water break before rest stop 6. The rest areas were 10-12 miles apart and I drank two bottles of water and/or bad Gatorade between every rest stop. The temperature was in the mid to high 80s. (30º C)
Rest stop 6 – Landis Store – Livestrong Philly 09
The 100 and 70-mile routes used the same course with the 70-mile route taking a shortcut to the return. A 30-mile shortcut. Although they started behind us, eventually they got in front of us and we began catching them in the last 30 miles.
A number of riders were walking. The course was challenging for many. For some, they had never done a 70-mile ride before. And they had the right cause to do it. And the same with the 100-mile ride. Who cares if they had to walk long stretches of hills? They were challenging themselves like never before for a great cause.
Eventually one begins to see the same riders and I found myself in contact with a few. A couple of riders asked about my jersey and really admired it.
As I rode I talked with some riders including such minutia as the meaning of the race bib numbers. I was shocked when I got my race bib — number 60. I was expecting a number like everyone else seemed to have — 3898. I certainly wasn’t the 60th person to register. Probably more like the 3,898th.
Livestrong Philly 09
But on the form, one must check the reason why they are riding and the first box is “I have or have had cancer.” We surmised the low bib numbers were for the survivors. And I think we were right.
As I rolled to the finish I found myself next to a young lady named Amy from Providence, Rhode Island. This was her second century and both were here. And she warned me — at the finish, survivors enter the barriers to the right while supporters enter to the left. We came riding in together and she went to the left side and I went right. As I came to the finish people cheered and a volunteer held out a yellow rose which I took. Actually, I sort of went flying by and grabbed the outstretched rose so they couldn’t see the tears in my eyes under my glasses.
It’s not a normal ride. There are 6,000 stories, every one different. But at the finish, the rose was a reminder not that I’m a survivor but that I have a longer road ahead.
The weight of having prostate cancer was weighing heavy on my mind. But I have one escape plan. This.
Yesterday we had a family reunion near Punxsutawney, Pa. Beforehand I went to breakfast with a cousin at Eat-n-Park in Indiana and everything went sideways. Actually, everything went wrong. Very wrong. I needed a break.
This morning I left my parent’s place in Friedens, Pa., and drove to the Edison Elementary School in Altoona looking for a park or for parking. At 11:18 a.m. I rolled down the street and turned up 58th Street towards Veterans Memorial Highway that goes to the Curve.
It was a beautiful day as I passed three lakes (reservoirs) and came to the famous Horseshoe Curve. After one passes the Curve there is a 200′ tunnel and there the climb begins in earnest. When one leave Altoona the road is going up to the Curve but mostly at a 1-2% grade. After the tunnel it begins a 4-5% and keeps increasing.
Visitor Center at Horseshoe Curve My photo. My bike. Undated.
Near the top of Glenwhite Road is the infamous “Wall.” It is a quarter-mile very steep climb that hits 18-20% grades. After the Wall there is still some climbing, followed by a slight brief descent and then a final climb to Coupon Gallitzin Road.
The Coupon Gallitzin road follows the ridge of the Allegheny Mountain to Tunnel Hill, a small town in Cambria County on top of the mountain. Here I turned on Sugar Run Road for a screaming descent back down to Altoona.
When I reached Altoona I passed the school and continued for a second trip up the mountain. I was here escaping cancer and dealing with what life brings me. As I approached the Curve I was caught by a couple riding up the mountain. I can’t say if they were going fast (probably not) or if I was going slow (defintely so). I was lost in thought. Thought of cancer. Thought of how yesterday’s breakfast could go so wrong.
Richard and Staci passed me and we echanged greetings. And just like that I was riding with them. Any thoughts I had of turning around at the Curve dissapaited as I rode with them. I learned that Richard was a veteran of this climb many times while Staci had never made it up without stopping.
The conversation turned to why this Virginian was in Altoona climbing up Horseshoe Curve. I explained I was on a cancer journey. And this was my break from thinking about it, except, of course, when I was telling people about it.
Richard rode away from Staci and while I could follow him, I stayed with Staci encouraging her. Sometimes that was in the form of talking about anything, anything other than The Wall which was just ahead. Staci and I rode up and she made it. And I was part of her journey.
When we got to Coupon Gallitzin Road I decided I would turn around and go back down to the car. It was the short way. It was the fast way. Although it probably would have only added about four miles to my ride.
For one day, Horseshoe Curve came through again. I forgot about all my problems and just concentrated on the climb and the amazing beauty of the area.
EPILOGUE – While this ride predated my use of Strava, I late went back and created a segment on Strava – Twice up the Climb and once down Sugar Run. To my complete amazement, there is only one Strava in the history of the app who has ever climbed this mountain twice on one ride. Yes, me.
A beautiful day with temperatures in the 80s brought out thousands of bikers, as in motorcyclists, to the annual Thunder in the Valley event in Johnstown and the surrounding mountain communities including Somerset and Ligonier. I don’t ride a single kilometer without a helmet and my lasting impression of these bikers will be of the hundreds I saw riding care-free without their helmets. That’s not for me.
I started in the village of Waterford and took Nature Run Road to Laughlingtown. One mile on U.S. Rte 30 and three miles on Pa. Rte 381 was the only flat riding of the day. The three miles from Rte 30 to Rector hasn’t changed much in the 42 years since we first drove it when we moved from Ohio to Rector. It is lined alternatively by a canopy of trees and post and rail fence or borders the Loyalhanna Creek. This is “Mellon Country” having been the home of financier Richard King Mellon and the Rolling Rock Farms. There has been one improvement — the road surface is in excellent condition making this a wonderful ride on a bike.
Devil’s Hole – Rector, Pa.
When we were kids each spring we helped dam up a portion of Linn Run, a very cold mountain stream, so we could swim in Devil’s Hole. A natural pool was 3′ deep and we could get the water level up from half-way to 2/3 of the way on the large rock pictured above. Yes, the cold water was over our heads. Sadly, it is now marked No Trespassing.
Coming out of Rector I climbed the one-mile Darlington Road hill up to Rte 711. In the lower sections it has 15% grade and by the top has leveled off to 11-12%. My route took me on Darlington Road where perhaps I could have hit 50 mph on a descent except I didn’t trust the road surface at this point. It was rough with some loose gravel.
I went behind Idlewild Park and found myself on another great road headed to Bolivar. All roads were climbing or descending. When I reached the end of my loop I decided I would continue on Rte 271 towards Johnstown. Well, not all the way to Johnstown although that would have been a fun destination. But to the top of Laurel Hill Summit.
When I drove the climb it seemed to be a 5-6 mile climb and I wanted to see how my legs would respond on a long climb with a fairly steep grade – consistently 8% but at times 10%. I went three miles and emptied my second water bottle of two. I decided not to continue without water. It was a daunting climb and I have been battling but getting over a three-week illness. Unless… …Unless I saw a woman sitting on a porch. Which I did.
This is a climb on a mountain road. There are very few houses on this road. To find a house and had a woman on the porch was close to a small miracle.
I pulled over and pulled out an empty water bottle and pointed to it. I did talk too but the pointing simply illustrated I was friendly and the reason I was approaching her. I asked for and she willingly filled my water bottle. When I asked how far to the summit she told me it takes her more than an hour to walk it. Great. But on I went. The water was just right even though I could taste the iron in the well water.
Two miles up, and when I thought I was nearing the summit, a car waited for me to pass the entrance to his driveway then the driver yelled out some encouragement. “You’re doing an excellent job.” Maybe he’s a cyclist because most people don’t understand how an almost-defeated cyclist magically gets wings to fly when hearing words like those.
It was another mile to the summit and I rode to the Somerset-Westmoreland County border then turned around. On the descent, I wanted to fly. But I was passed by 12 bikers on six bikes just as I started my descent. Probably 2/3 of all bikers had two people on them. (To be certain, these were motorcycles.)
But as I picked up speed, and I was pedaling, I caught them and then had a dilemma. I wanted to hit 50 mph but to do that I needed to pass them. But I touched my brakes instead. I hit 48 mph but there was no way I was going to integrate with this group. They were taking pictures of one another and almost daring me to pull side by side with them. But I was rolling along on wheels that were 3/4″ wide on a bike made of carbon fiber. There was no way I would try anything stupid at this speed.
They certainly didn’t mean any harm. They were having fun too. But it was too dangerous to ride too close to them. I wasn’t happy that I didn’t hit 50 mph but it was a wonderful day with 50 miles in the mountain.
