I have been doing a series of rides with Terrance Moran, helping coach him to do his first 50-mile ride. We have been going at his speed, which is about 12.0 mph, as he gets comfortable in distance riding with clip-in shoes.
Today I was by myself and I wanted to ride to Clarkes Gap and back from Reston. It was warm, around 80°, and I took off. Unlike weekends, when I seemed to get passed by all the hammerheads, today I was only passed once.
W&OD Trail at Clarks Gap
After the Luck Stone Quarry, a young guy on a Time Trial bike came flying by me, and truth be told, scared me a little. He did not call out “passing” or “on your left.” Just head down, earbuds in. So I reacted like any sane, somewhat pissed off cyclist would: I jumped on his rear wheel and stayed there for the next seven minutes (two miles). He was annoyed and when we came to the stoplight in Leesburg he asked why I was drafting him. The real answer was “because I could” but I said, “Oh, sorry, I was just waiting to hear ‘on your left.'” Was that wrong?
At the top of Clarkes Gap I turned around into a slight headwind. After rolling through Leesburg I stopped for a candy bar at the Carolina BBQ restaurant on the trail in Ashburn. As I was walking out, making noise coming down the wooden ramp, an older woman, also a cyclist, said “you’re one of those clippy guys.” Laugh out loud. Yes, I guess I am.
A little caffeine boost at Carolina Brothers
Back on the trail, I felt myself slowing down. I was supposed to have a tailwind returning but was going into a headwind. Once finished and uploaded the ride I was surprised I was four seconds faster coming back than going out. I swear I was slower. I averaged almost 17 mph, solo, on a relaxed day, which was a vast improvement over the 12 mph which I have been averaging. With Terry.
Terry Moran recently got a road bike and was anxious to start getting miles. I started in Dunn Loring and offered to meet him in Alexandria at the Marina for a trip down the Mount Vernon Trail.
Terry on the Mt. Vernon trail
Still a bit chilly for late April, the temperatures were in the mid 50s.
Boardwalk south of the marina
This is a popular trail but not so much on a cool weekday. We didn’t have to dodge too many people.
Terry taking a break
The trail mostly follows the Potomac River although there are some beautiful stretches of boardwalk, mostly over wetlands. Boardwalks scare me ever since I crashed on one on this trail in July 2013.
George Washington’s Home
Terry
It is mostly a flat trail but close to Mr. Washington’s estate it becomes hilly. Not long but short steep little climbs.
Boardwalk south of Alexandria
It was a nice ride. Nothing epic but great scenery. And Terry only fell once – when we approached an intersection the same time as a BMW. He panicked as he unclipped and fell over in the grass. The driver, a beautiful woman, and I laughed.
Unless I misremembered, prior editions of this event went off at 9:00 a.m. so I planned on getting up by 5:30 a.m. to drive to Harrisonburg. Late last night I checked the website and discovered we had an 8:00 a.m. rollout. Crap! That meant a 4:20 a.m. wake-up alarm. But I did it.
Heaters at Registration
I arrived for check-in and saw Robert Hess, of the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. I had enough time to get ready but I didn’t have time to waste. At check-in there were heaters running as it was pretty chilly.
I earned this Around The World Club jersey surpassing 24,901 miles on August 8
Before the race a number of riders’ names were read out as “call ups.” Not sure what more was going to happen. I heard my name – either as a donor or survivor, or both. At this event, cancer survivors do get front row privileges and I used mine, up front with Joe Dombrowski of Team Sky and Ben King of Team Garmin-Sharp.
Ben King, Joe Dombrowski, Barry Sherry
We rolled out through Harrisonburg with a police escort. Ben King was at the front and I was not by his side but in the second or third row. Joe Dombrowski took a spot much farther back.
We rolled out in one massive group and I maintained this for the first nine miles. As we rode further I became less comfortable in the group as I spotted some questionable riding. I decided I’d rather not be part of this massive peleton as we rolled fast to the first timed climb. I found a pull off spot and let the group roll on.
Once there was a break in the group I jumped back onto the road – by myself. Of course, there were riders all over the place. As I came to the timed climb on US 33 I had just been passed by three riders although two may have been together and one was a wheel sucker.
I stayed with one of those riders in blue
At first I thought they were going too fast for me to join them then realized I should. Once I latched on I realized that we were going at a pedestrian pace. A couple of guys went by like they were “racing.” I decided not to race anyone, at least not yet, and just stayed with them. I thought they may be going at a reasonable pace.
Ben King and Joe Dombrowski relaxing at the start
On the climb I stayed with them wheel for wheel. We passed many riders and I thought I was saving myself and doing much better than prior years. I had decided if I stayed with them to the finish I would not to try and race them to the line as they had been doing all the work but as we approached the summit they did not pick up the pace one bit as the grade flattened out. So I went.
Plenty of Salty Snacks
My time on the climb was 35:31 – about the same as two years ago and one minute slower than last year. I know I could have gone much harder on the bottom portion but don’t regret not doing it. Maybe next time I find faster guys to hang with.
First Rest Stop
It was a gorgeous day. My phone didn’t want to take pictures because it was full. So I didn’t stop on the descent down US 33. But it was beautiful. The vistas on this side (West Virginia) are especially stunning.
At the second rest stop, and the base of the climb up Reddish Knob, I started seeing familiar faces. Mariette Vanderzon. Dee Reeb. Allon Shiff. Rich McAfee. And I saw the drink of San Pellegrino, the one climb that kicked my butt this year.
And today’s climb would come close. Mariette caught me. She is a strong rider but not feeling so well. Although she eventually pulled away, she was always about 50-75 yards ahead of me. The climb has extended sections (2-3 miles) of 10-12% grade. This is really hard.
Allon Shiff, Rich McAfee
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I rode my new bike which is not set up for climbing big long mountains. Without the right gearing, I would say this was the second hardest climb of the season for me – behind San Pellegrino.
After the rest stop at Mile 59 (or so) I headed out on my own. And saw no one – up ahead or behind. When I came to the gravel section I stopped and talked to six Mennonite children. I explained to them my great-great-great-grandmother was Mary Wenger – the same name they had. They seemed excited by this.
With Robert Hess
Once back on the road I was “caught” by a rider. I had actually spent five minutes with the kids and saw the rider coming so waited for him. He was a first-timer and was not up to my pace. I slowed. When he cramped and walked I soft-pedaled and waited. We enjoyed each others’ company and rode together to the end.
Sarah Gran
Arriving back I was welcomed by Erin Bishop and met with Robert Hess again. A quick bite to eat and some chocolate milk, and I was headed home — needed to get to bed early after that 4:20 a.m. start.
Erin Bishop, Barry Sherry, Robert Hess Credit: Joe Foley Photohgraphy
Some days things work out as a surprise. Today was one of those.
I love the Airport Loop. Early in the morning, the summer temperatures are still pleasant, the route shaded, and one sees a lot of cyclists, runners, and walkers along the trail. Some are unusual, like the $4,000 organic transportation pedal car I saw at Gallows Road.
While riding inbound on the Custis Trail I was passed in the opposite direction by four riders wearing the same orange and blue jersey. A few minutes later I was passed again by four other riders. And then a third time.
I didn’t catch much except “Trek” was on the jersey and I thought “Illini” may have been on the front of these orange jerseys. I did not think much else about them as I continued my ride.
Yang Song, Je Won Hong, Meiling Liu, Jordan Orr
After completing the loop and heading back to my start at Gallows Road, I caught four of these riders. And so I talked with them. They’re with the Illini for Cancer 4000. The Illini 4000 is much like the Texas 4000. Only their starting location was New York City and their destination this year is San Francisco.
I rode for a while with Yang Song, Je Won Hong, Meiling Liu, and Jordan Orr. I was glad to be their guide for a while. Today they were riding from Washington, D.C. to Boonsboro, Maryland. This first section was the W&OD out to Purcellville before jumping on real roads.
Je Won, Barry, Meiling, Jordan
What was to be a nothing day turned into something special because I met four cancer fighters.
I was very pleased that Chey Hillsgrove could join me for Jeremiah Bishop’s Alpine Loop Gran Fondo Presented by the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. Chey was Jake Grecco’s Pedal Pal and while I had met him in Baltimore before his cross country trip, I had never ridden with him. So today would be the first day.
Barry Sherry, Chey Hillsgrove
Last night we checked in then went next door to Dave’s Downtown Taverna. By luck, we ran into Erin Bishop, the event director, who invited us to the Gala. That solved our issue of where we would eat. After the ceremonies, we met Robert Hess and his sister, Jodi, as well as Jeremiah Bishop. Robert presented me with a cycling jacket from the Prostate Cancer Foundation Project. My friend, Scott Scudamore was the emcee so we got to see him and his wife, Margaret, as well.
Barry Sherry, Jeremiah Bishop
Today in the parking lot, my cousin, Krissy Harlan, came over from JMU to say hello. When we got called up to the line they called fundraisers followed by cancer survivors. I was the only survivor who went to the front. Strange, I thought. There are more of us.
Krissy Harlan, Barry Sherry
I found myself on the front row with Ben King, racer for Radio Shack-Nissan-Trek. Ben was U.S. National road race champ in 2010. We chatted briefly and had a photo op.
Ben King, Barry Sherry, Robert Hess
As we rolled out I went just one block then pulled over waiting for Chey. As he rolled by I jumped in, moved up and caught him.
Chey was on his new Lightspeed bike and hadn’t yet been fit to it. After 18 miles as we came to the base of the first time climb, we pulled over to adjust his seat. There were probably 15-20 people at this point who had also pulled over. It appeared to be a woodsy-bathroom break too, but not for us. Although we had discussed doing the climbs at your own pace, and I thought he’d pull away from me, I pulled away from him. Chey hadn’t been on a bike since the 4K ended August 4 and his bike was stolen in Tacoma. So it was understandable enough that he had lost his bike fitness.
Barry climbing Shenandoah Mountain
Last year I did this five-mile climb in 48 minutes, just riding at a comfortable pace. And I was passed early by a number of riders. Today was different. Although I was passed by one rider, I pulled back 10 riders on the climb. My time was 35:05. It’s not going to win me any prize but I love seeing the 13-minute improvement over last year. And it was rated eighth out of 18 in my age group so it was above the line.
Top of first climb, Shenandoah Mountain, Virginia-West Virginia border
At the top, I waited for Chey. Then we bombed the descent on US 33. I pulled back another 10 riders on the descent, at one point passing a motorcycle as we both cornered. I was flying. My top speed was 46.7 mph.
After the first rest stop, we came to the Medio/Gran Fondo split, off the main road and up a three-mile dirt/gravel road with 15-18% grades. Rough. Last year I, along with everyone else, walked most of the way as this section was all mud. Today it was dry and while I made it most of the way, there were two sections that had so much gravel I simply dismounted and walked for 100 yards. And I’m not ashamed.
Meadow in the gravel section in West Virginia
As I waited at the top I talked to Richard Canlas, from Texas, who made his way up. He was waiting for his buddy, Ronald “Zeke” Smith, from D.C. Zeke tried the route last year but couldn’t finish so he had his friend from Texas join him. While Richard expressed concern we might miss a cutoff point, I told him whatever happens, happens.
It’s a bit of a fixer-upper
After Chey crossed the top we hit a dangerously steep two-mile descent then pulled into the second rest stop. The other two riders pulled in after us but rolled out one minute ahead of us. And then we were last. The last riders on the Gran Fondo course.
As we started to climb, Chey was struggling with his bike. It may have a bottom bracket issue but being set up with a 39 tooth small front ring, the bike was slowing him down. He needed a compact. Still, we rode together and could see the two riders in front of us. I went ahead and caught Zeke who by then was alone. I think minutes before he told Richard to go ahead and make the cutoff without him.
One tough gravel climb
Arriving at the cutoff intersection we were told we had missed the time and would be rerouted over to the Medio climb to get us back on course. No problem. Although Zeke took off, I quickly hit the descent, passing him going 40 mph. When I got through all the sharp curves I sat up and let Zeke catch and pass me. I looked back but didn’t see Chey. At the bottom, I soft-pedaled for Chey to catch up but he didn’t. I was only three miles from the top and I stopped at the rest stop. And waited. After about 10 minutes and asking about Chey we heard he had crashed hard. I was sick.
Some riders think gravel is pretty
Chey’s lack of riding for six weeks plus learning his new bike left him tired. At the Medio/Gran split I should have taken the Medio route. Instead, being macho, we turned up that awful gravel road and Chey started walking almost immediately. That should have been my clue. And now, he crashed. Damn me! I thought I killed Chey.
A few minutes later the SAG van came in and Chey was in it. I saw a smile on his face which was a relief. I hadn’t seen a smile since he began the climb on gravel. He got out and stood up gingerly. He was bleeding and his shorts were ripped up.
The guy running the rest stop was packed up and ready to go. He already had his son in the front seat and could take two passengers and two bikes. The quickest way back to get Chey treatment was to get him back to Harrisonburg. Maybe that was even quicker than calling for an ambulance here in a remote part of West Virginia. And Zeke decided he had had enough. So the two of them took the car back to Harrisonburg.
I headed up the 7.5-mile climb. This was the second climb on the Medio route. It was paved now but last year was dirt. Unlike last year, there was no timing station setup.
Riding in memory of Jake
Jake loved blue butterflies and we are left to wonder about some mysteries in life. I have never seen a blue butterfly in my life. But since Jake left us these blue butterflies seem to appear at the strangest times.
I knew I was last on the course. I had the climb all by myself. As I started off without Chey I became very emotional. I felt that I had pushed Chey to ride the long route. Maybe he even crashed because he was tired. And here I was all alone on this climb. Just as I was to start to cry a blue butterfly fluttered by. What the hell?! I had never seen a blue butterfly before. But I thought of Jake. And I knew that Jake’s Pedal Pal, Chey, would be OK.
My mind turned to the climb. After a mile or so the SAG van passed me then went about 1/4 mile ahead and waited. I passed and the van leapfrogged me. And so it went. I believed the driver was watching the clock and at some point was going to tell me I was beyond the cutoff and to jump in the van. Sometimes he walked down the road looking for me. But I kept the pace and kept going.
I was so sure he was going to pull me off course that I had my speech ready to go. He can’t make me get off the road. He could have my timing chip and my race number but I have the right to the road. I was going to finish the ride for Jake and that was bigger than his cutoff time. In fact, I probably had an hour in the bank. But nothing was going to stop me.
Chey getting in the van
Then I started thinking about taking the lanterne rouge award for being the last finisher. Reaching the summit I flew across the top of Reddish Knob and began my descent. I was flying and got halfway down the mountain when I saw a number of riders. I caught the last guy going about 35 mph then tagged him. “You’re last,” I told him. He looked at me not knowing what I was talking about. Then I drifted back – to last – and waited for the SAG van. “I thought you said I could be last.” He laughed at me.
I pedaled ahead and came to a rest stop with lots of cyclists. I wasn’t going to be last.
Just 18 miles to go and the roads in this section were rollers — undulating ups and downs with some flat sections. On a gravel road, I passed a farmhouse with the name Wenger on the mailbox. Then about 100 yards away I passed another farmhouse. A Mennonite woman waved to me. I stopped.
Her three young daughters were watching from the door and I asked if their name was Wenger. It was. I told them my great-great-great-grandmother was Mary Wenger. There was a pretty good chance we were distantly related. (This from my knowledge of Wenger genealogy) The girls, dressed in their plain long dresses came to see me. I gave them my business card. We were so different. They in their very conservative dress and me outfitted in blue/black spandex. With FUCANCER on the jersey. They must have wondered where I went so wrong.
I pedaled to the finish. Crossing the line the announcer called my name and said I was on a hot list. Then he found it to read that I was a survivor. I would have preferred him to say what I wrote — I was riding in memory of Jake Grecco – the toughest superhero I know.
Finisher’s Medal for Alpine Loop Gran Fondo
Chey was waiting at the finish. He was banged up and bandaged up a little. Nothing broke, he didn’t go for X-rays. Lots of road rash and some mechanical issues with the bike that will have to be fixed. But hopefully, we can do this another day. And I didn’t kill him.
After being struck by a car I wanted to go home yesterday but ended up getting a wheel repair at the local Trek bike store in Charles Town. At no charge. That always helps.
The newly trued wheel rolled well and I was thankful for the coolness of the morning air to ride. But I also thought of the bike and remembered that a carbon fiber bike must be checked out before being ridden again after a crash. While I was thankful the local Trek store fixed my wheel I wish the mechanic would have asked to check out the bike. I was in no frame of mind to think to ask him to do that.
Trek mechanic onsite checking out the Pilot
Arriving in Berryville, I found the on-site Trek mechanic who checked out the bike and was able to reposition the shifters. He gave the bike a clean bill of health. More importantly, he gave me peace of mind.
Trek mechanic onsite checking out the Pilot
Since the mechanic took time checking the bike, it felt as though I was the last to leave Berryville. As I rode I began to catch and pass everyone. It would be one of those days where I would pass everyone and not get passed. Period.
After making my way through the first group of riders I passed five riders stopped along the side of the road, all supervising some poor schmuck trying to fix his bike. I asked if they needed one more person to watch and they said yes. So I stopped. Poor guy had a broken chain and other than making a phone call (for SAG support), I couldn’t help, but by then all those slow, old (my age) people came rolling by so I let them pass then worked my way through them again.
When I passed a rider named Karen, she jumped on my wheel and followed me. She announced her presence and stated that I was the right speed to follow. And she did. For a while. Then she admitted I was too fast but I backed it off and we rode together and picked up some other riders as well.
Cute family of six
At Rest Stop Number 1 in Rippon, I saw a family with young children in cycling gear. How cute. As they were getting ready to leave I talked to them. I told them I saw a family down at River Ride on the Northern Neck about five years ago who had a triple Co-Motion bike with dad and two daughters on it while the mother pulled a — “Burley Trailer,” everyone pretty much said in unison.
Cute family on six
“That was us,” replied the mom. The family is from Front Royal, Virginia.
My memory of that day on the Northern Neck was seeing this extremely cute family pull in at the end of the ride. The youngest girl was sound asleep — head over folded arms on the handlebars — with her feet clipped into the pedals going in circles.
The oldest daughter said “yep, that was Kylie. She can do that”*
But now there were six. They’ve added to their cycling family. Three on dad’s bike and three on mom’s. How very cute. A double triple.
They left the rest stop before I did and although I caught them on Kabletown Road, I didn’t see them the rest of the day. Hopefully I will see them again.
Rest stop at Rippon, Va.
The route would zigzag around Charles Town on some of the roads I had ridden down to Berryville to the start. I was almost getting dizzy going in a circle. Like yesterday, my cousin, Kay Walborn, started earlier than I could, and from Berryville.
Although this was billed as a recreational touring ride and not a place for pace lines, occasional lines formed and it was fun riding just a little faster with other people. Or a lot faster than other people. I had missed out on that yesterday except for the first 10 miles or so when I had jumped in with a group of four.
Rest stop in Middleway, West Virginia
But today I rode with a woman and her dad for a while, and also with Paul from Allentown, Pa., plus Karen from Ashville, N.C. At the lunch stop around Mile 48 (my mile 68) I had caught my cousin, Kay Walborn, and we then rode together the optional 20-mile loop. Near the end of the ride, I was ahead of Kay and her friend, Wanda, on Job Corps Road, when I was left shaken.
While descending a hill, I was doing about 30 mph and was hugging the white line at the edge of the road. There was no shoulder. Then I heard it. A large diesel pickup truck was barreling down on me and wanting to pass. But there was an oncoming car and hardly room for the three of us. He gunned it.
I was over as far as I could get and the truck passed within inches. Kay told me that the truck missed my head by two inches. What is it? Two accidents in two days?
Barry and Kay Bardane, West Virginia
When we finished I had 90 miles so it was easy to get 100 before going back to Bethany’s.
Two Days. Two Centuries.
___ *I’m not sure of the daughter’s name – but let’s go with Kylie.
The day started with promise. Attending Bike Virginia, I rode 20 miles from Charles Town to the event’s registration in Berryville, Va.
Rest Stop at Bike Virginia
Once on the road, I reset my odometer so as not to remind myself that I had ridden 20 miles farther than anyone else. And it worked.
Rest Stop at Bike Virginia
I was surprised that at a park and swimming pool rest stop at Mile 80 near Winchester I ran into my friend Vince Amodeo. I had been chasing my cousin, Kay Walborn, for these 80 miles and had given up finding her.
Vince Amodeo
I said goodbye to Vince and sat down to text Kay. We had been texting at each rest stop and I had no idea I was close. My legs felt like it was 80 miles, not 100, and then I heard her call my name. I had caught her. What a nice surprise. We rolled out together and rode together for just six miles before I broke from the route and headed back to Charles Town.
Rest stop
In Charles Town, as I came up Washington Street, a car started to overtake me at an intersection. This is a common occurrence and I didn’t think much of it. As I went straight the driver got just far enough in front of me then she whipped the car to the right and made a right turn. Into me. The classic right hook.
I tried to evade her by turning sharper but I couldn’t. She hit me and sent me flying.
The dumbass who hit me
I remember nothing after being contacted by her car until I was on the ground. My shoulders and back seemed to take the worst of it and I lay on the street in pain with my bike on top of me, still clipped into the left pedal.
I had ridden 115 miles, my farthest ever, and combined with the heat, 86º, and the effort to get up the rise before the intersection, I was breathing heavy. Laying on my back I was afraid to open my eyes. I was scared.
I was breathing very heavily and heard the woman who hit me scream at me. “DIDN’T YOU SEE MY SIGNAL!!!” “DIDN’T YOU SEE MY SIGNAL!!!”
I paid her no attention and within another minute a passerby stopped her car and came to my assistance. If I had any idea of getting to my feet she made sure that I was to remain immobile. In fact, she held me around my shoulders so I wouldn’t move. And I was too weak to fight.
Another passerby tried to unclip my shoes. And in the moment, I could not remember how to release them. I was afraid they were going to cut them off. Not my Louis Garneaus!
An ambulance arrived pretty quickly followed by the police and then a firetruck. As the paramedics attended to me the woman who had been attending, also a paramedic, introduced herself to them. I was holding the back of my leg, not because I was injured but because the position I was in, combined with riding 115 miles in the heat, was causing me to cramp.
First responders in Charles Town
She told the paramedic crew that I was cramping because I had ridden 15 miles. “115 miles,” I corrected her, and I threw water on her.
They extricated me from my bike (is that a thing?) and moved it next to a building. They helped me to my feet then checked my vitals, checking to see if I was dizzy. I could move everything but was sore from the crash. I had some road rash but it wasn’t bad. I refused a trip to the emergency room in the ambulance.
My handlebar tape was torn and the shifters were out of place. I was able to forcibly realign one mostly. Against the wishes of, well, everyone there, I decided I would keep on riding. As I got close to Bethany’s I noticed the front wheel was wobbling. More damage that I hadn’t seen.
Garmin Odometer
I was shaken up and really just wanted to go home. I just wanted to end my five-day Bike Virginia trip after one day.
Trek store in Charles Town
I set a new personal best for miles ridden in one day: 119.2, and would have gone farther except for the crash. But my bike and I were sore and beat up.
Bethany reminded me that there was a bike store in Charles Town and I took my bike there. It was Three Points Cycle and the manager/owner on duty couldn’t be nicer. He looked at me, still walking in a daze, listened to my story, and told me he grew up in Woodbridge. He attended Gar-Field H.S. He took my front wheel and trued it. No charge. I started feeling better.
With a forecast of 68° (it didn’t materialize but it did get to 62°) it was a perfect day to ignore the leaves piling up in the lawn and go for a ride.
I found a “CC” ride and decided I would jump in. But I arrived at 9:58 a.m. and decided not to rush but just leave on my schedule although the group was rolling out at 10:00 a.m.
There is something about pulling up with license plate marked UPDHEZ and wearing a jersey from Alpe d’Huez. It’s like a target on my back — I am expected to be better than anyone else.
ALPDHZ was taken so I got this plate to commemorate climbing L’Alpe d’Huez. Intimidating, huh?
As the group rolled out there was one other person who was getting ready. He looked at me and said “You don’t look like you’ll have any problem catching the group. Yea, a big ego stroke. So I waited for him to get ready.
Caught our group in Aldie
We were “wheels down” at 10:10 a.m. We rode at a sensible pace — never hammering it to catch the group because we knew with our pace we would catch them. And we did just 7.5 miles into the ride. But the group was already strung out so we rode through the group, overtaking 10-12 more riders, one each at a time.
Like many group rides, we’re not much on formality. I never did catch the name of the guy I rode with. You never know if you’re going to ride with someone for 10 minutes or 10 miles. At times as we rode I thought he might drop me then other times I was stronger, but as we approached Aldie I did pull away. For good.
Break time – in Aldie
At the Aldie rest stop, I was anxious to keep moving. I’m not a fan of rest stops unless it’s 100° and the lower level the ride the longer the rest stops are and just drag on. As soon as the first three guys left I jumped in and joined them. Greg, Adam, and John. The guy I first rode with was still resting. (I only know these guys names because they asked me mine with about five miles to go after we had ridden together for 30 miles.)
New ride partners
They had been riding together for the first 15 miles and I jumped in without a word. I sort of had to prove that I belonged. I stayed with them until the next hill and then took off. First up the hill. Then I soft-pedaled. I belonged.
A “selfie”
After the rest stop at Atoka, and I tried to convince them not to stop, I set the pace for the next two miles. Then I quietly pulled off and moved to the back. Without a word, they were all experienced enough to recognize that we should ride in a paceline with each rider taking turns at the front.
And we did. My last two pulls ended up with me pulling away so I simply backed off the pace. I never thought of hammering home solo today although I knew I could pull away by myself.
This is horse country, lots of money here, and I saw deer running through the woods and jumping over the fences. So graceful. So beautiful. And I thought how differently I see them from some of my Facebook friends who see them only as a target.
Near the end, we were adjacent to Great Meadows at The Plains, Va., home of the Gold Cup races. It was a beautiful four miles back to start. We passed a farm stand with fresh produce and apple cider. It is definitely Fall in Virginia.
As we pulled back into town I went to the front, but not attacking and being a jerk, just enough so I could say “last to start, first to finish.” I had no problem with the pace today — we rode at a BB clip and may have been one of the last good days of the year for a long ride.
I left the parking lot, then stopped by the farm stand and bought their two remaining jugs of cider. I love riding. I love Fall. I love cider.
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.
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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