Category: Virginia

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King of the Mountains – Men’s Division

GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C. 

After some incessant nagging, Kelley Noonan and David Vito invited me to ride with them. I had been used to seeing them on The Bike Lane shop rides out of Reston on Saturdays but it has been a while since I have been there. The last time I saw Kelley was when she was wiped out on our group ride on May 2. I last rode with David on April 17. I looked forward to seeing them again.

Although I wanted to bike from home to meet them, I didn’t leave myself quite enough time to bike the entire distance so I drove to The Bike Lane in Burke and rode from there. I intercepted Kelley and David at Gallows Road on the Washington & Old Dominion bike trail and we rode from there to the Custis Trail to Crystal City then across the Key Bridge into Georgetown.

We met with a group of cyclists riding from Revolution Cycling. It was their shop ride. While they had two groups, and I would have preferred to ride with the faster group, Kelley and David were looking for an easy spin preparing for the Patriot Half Ironman in two weeks. Kelley had warned me that the pace would be slow as some riders were not comfortable in a group.

Kelley was right. On the route towards Great Falls (Md.) I dropped to the back to find Kelley, and she and a couple of riders were missing. I rode back to the front and told the ride leader, Katie, that we had dropped Kelley. So we waited and had the group reform.

Once we got rolling again, we weren’t far from “the hill.” David and Kelley had either warned me or told me that I would like the hill up to Great Falls. One mile long, it wasn’t overly steep, but enough to shed all the other riders. David had said I would win the King of the Mountains on this hill.

Just as we approached it, and it has a subtle rise, not a wall, announcing its presence, David pointed it out and we took off. David is less than half my age and I figured, even if he’s not a true climber, I still had no chance. There’s no way my legs could produce the power that young legs can. I did what a savvy veteran would. I let him pass and then I sat on his wheel up the entire climb.

I kept wondering when he was going to drop me, and at one point he did pull away by 10 – 15 feet (4 meters) or so but that was it. And then I got back on. I also figured I couldn’t hold him off if I tried to drop him too early. One big problem I had was that I didn’t know where the hill ended. I know, “at the top” but with each rise and each curve, how close were we to the top?

And then it happened. Sarah Brown, who probably weighs no more than 85 pounds, came flying by us. She is a new rider, maybe 23 years old, stands about five feet tall, and has the skinniest legs I have ever seen. She has no weight or body fat on her at all. Maybe worse, she couldn’t have been on our wheels when we left everyone behind and must have decided after we were gone 100-200 yards that she was going to catch and pass us.

Sarah Brown, Princeton

I told David to go, and I think he tried, but neither of us could catch her. I found out later that she ran cross country and track in college. I bet she flies.

Nearing the top of the climb, I was able to pass David and take second in the KOM – but first in the Men’s Division. Or first in the Over 100 Pounds Division. Or the Over 25 Division.

Maybe at one time, when I was 25 like David, it would bother me, but I am just happy to be alive and do what I can do. I’ll gladly lose to Sarah (weighs half of what I do) or David (is half my age) and still be in the top group climbing the hill.

On a day when the temperature hit 92º, I ended up riding 65 miles. I loved another great day in the saddle.

Note: Photograph from Princeton Athletics website, http://www.goprincetontigers.com

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A 65-Mile Pull

WARRENTON, VIRGINIA

I arrived at the commuter lot in Warrenton but did not leave myself enough time to get ready. I wanted to change wheels and had to do a quick clothing change in the van. The ride, Airlie to Aldie, was listed as a ‘B’ ride, 65 miles and hilly.

I might call the route moderate and not hilly. I would think there would be an objective measure with climbing feet / miles but it seems to be a guess. Garmin’s corrected elevation shows 3,060 feet over 65 miles. Without the correction the altimeter showed 4,244 feet.

This is important to determine the ride class and speed. If this was a hilly route, and it may have been, then a B average was supposed to be 12-14 mph. A BB pace would be 14-16 and an A pace would be 16-18.

If this was a moderate route then the averages would go up by two mph per category. A B pace would be 14-16. A BB pace would be 16-18.

I made my wheel and clothing changes, grabbed a cue sheet, then rolled out about 10 minutes after the group left. They should have had two miles on me. I began my chase. I thought I spotted a rider after 10 miles but I caught some other cyclists not on this ride instead. Then, on climbing the hill up to The Plains, I spotted 3-4 riders near the top. Once I made visual contact, I took a natural break. And didn’t see the riders again until mile 21.

I didn’t ride 20 mph but I did ride 18 mph, solo, over the first 21.5 miles. It took a little more than an hour which is about right to bring back the two miles I gave up to the group when they left without me. They probably averaged 16 mph.

I had caught the trailing riders, maybe the true B riders, while there were other riders up the road who had stopped at the Safeway for a rest. As soon as they came out and were ready to roll, I jumped in with them. Actually, they left without me but only by 200 meters. I soon caught them and decided I would hang on the back. I lasted on the back about 45 seconds. I soon moved to the front to help with the pulling and didn’t move again for 43 miles.

I rode solo in the wind for 22 miles then pulled for 43. Strange. There were many hills, none were great, but on each one I separated from the group then soft-pedaled at the top to wait. I had thought about dropping the group but, on a group ride, thought that would be a little rude. So “the little engine that could” just kept grinding away and waiting where necessary.

With about four miles to go, a rider finally came to the front. I thought he was going to take over pulling but he seemed more interested in dropping the group. So I went with him. We quickly  dropped the other riders. I thought “Donkey, this is a friggin club ride, and you’ve been sitting on my wheel for 40 miles now you’re going to drop me?!” But we rode the last four miles to the end and I did pull away on the final climb to the lot.

On the day I averaged 17.0 mph. I am pleased with that because it was all solo or pulling. And if it was really a hilly route then it qualified as an A pace. And I just beat the storm that had been forming all day.

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Scud TT

MONTCLAIR, VIRGINIA

Watch a Grand Tour like the Tour de France and you will see different types of riders based on their body sizes. Of course, there are exceptions to all of these but the “sprinters” tend to be bigger guys with big thighs. And they’re the most daring of all riders. If they can stay together with a stage at the end, one of them will come out of the pack to take it at the line.

The “time trialists” are great at riding at their own pace and this often favors some of the heavier riders who aren’t knocked around by the winds. Riding by oneself you have no protection from the wind.

The “climbers” tend to be smaller riders who always have the best power to weight ratios. The rider who will win a Grand Tour is someone who can do all these fairly well, but usually, the Tour de France is set up to favor climbers. Fabian Cancellara recently won the Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix and may be the best cyclist in the world right now but won’t even be in the discussion to win the tour. Climbers like Alberto Contador, Andy and Fränk Schleck, and, of course, Lance Armstrong, get everyone’s attention.

I have a perfect body to excel at nothing. I’m too big to be a climber although the satisfaction is like none other. I wonder if, in my 20s, my sprinting ability off the bike would have translated to being on the bike? I will never know. I do know that two foot surgeries, one knee surgery, and age have robbed me of any sprinting ability I once had.

If I could pretend for a second, I guess my best discipline would be domestique – hanging back and carrying water to my team leader. And my dream would be not to win the Tour de France but to be the Lanterne Rouge.

Last week, Scott Scudamore posted a ride I called the Scud TT (time trial). He described it as only having 30 minutes so he went out hard and hammered home and tried to beat 18+ mph.

Since Scott and I ride together occasionally and he tells me that I am a much stronger rider than he is, I thought I could go do the same ride and smash his time. So on Thursday I rode to his house, stopped my bike, and then took off on his route to mirror his exact ride. My time was better — 19.3 vs. 18.5, but I was hoping for 20+.

I rode about as hard as I could for 25 minutes or so. 8.5 miles. For all his talk about being a stronger rider, I think it’s a bunch of hooey.

My legs were shot after this effort.

I stayed off the bike on Friday but did referee a high school varsity soccer match at night. And then, Saturday…

Our group ride was canceled so we did our own group ride. Except David Vito and his friend, Vince, showed up on time trial bikes. These bikes are fast. They’re equipped with aero bars for leaning out over the bike although they don’t handle quite as well as a regular road bike. And thus David and Vince suggested we ride the W&OD instead of our normal road route.

There were strong headwinds, 20-30 mph, and I did my best to hang on behind as we headed from Reston to Leesburg. Although Daniel Kalbacher took a pull, I had no pop in my legs on this day. We ultimately did 32 miles at a hard pace and I did one pull on the way back, with a tailwind, and was gone after that.

When I got home I jumped in the shower which eventually became slumping into a hot bath. And fell asleep. Then I moved to the bed where I slept. Then to the sofa. I ended up sleeping most of the time from 4:30 p.m. on Saturday until 2:30 p.m. on Sunday. Different locations, but still sleeping. I had a fever and headache along with an upset stomach.

Two days later the pop hasn’t returned. I am still sleepy. And this is eerily reminiscent of one year ago when I had those fevers which I thought would clear up on their own. They didn’t. Ultimately, in diagnosing an e.Coli infection they discovered cancer. And now I am left to wonder, what is it this time?

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A Lost Month

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

As I recover from cancer surgery I finally began to feel strong enough to resume riding. But I didn’t ride at all in February. Until today.

Record snows throughout the month conspired to keep me off the road. Each one one of the scheduled group rides at The Bike Lane in Reston, Va. was canceled.

Yesterday I met up with some of our group in Reston for breakfast. Then today I got out for a neat little 23 mile spin. And it felt great. And I remember now why we wear bike shorts. That padded short sure would have felt good after about 10 miles. Instead I wore wind pants over underwear. Not much padding there but no big deal. I’ve been through worse. Much worse.

The temperature was 38 degrees and windy. I was struggling the first 6-7 miles and couldn’t quite figure out why. I began to curse those hours indoor on the trainer as not helping one bit. And then I turned to the east and my speed picked up, way up, and the winds I had been listening to for 40 minutes suddenly became still. I had been fighting a strong headwind and then picked up a strong tailwind. I love tail winds.

In the afternoon I drove to Charles Town, WV. As I came to a light on Rte 7 between Hamilton and Waterford a group of cyclists approached from the opposite direction. The Evo boys (Evolution Cycling). I had ridden with them last year this time when things were different. I can’t imagine anyone recognized me in the van but all waved as they passed. Maybe they saw the Share the Ride license plate on the van or, more likely, were grateful that I didn’t try to muscle my way past them.

Rockpl – Rockpile – The nickname for Mount Washington, N.H.

Total mileage for the month: 23 miles. Yuck! March will be better. I am hoping to do a repeat of the Hills of Ellicott City next Sunday and have mapped out a ‘Toona Metric Century for April 3 in which 6-7 of us are going to Altoona, Pa. for the day. Sixty miles of climbing and descending and lunch at Panera at 2:00 p.m. Can’t wait!

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The Long Road Back

BURKE, VIRGINIA

It has been a long time since I have really been on a bike. About four weeks after cancer surgery I tried the bike but went one block and had to abandon. The sutures were in my lower abdomen and caused tremendous pain when I was bent over. But one week later I tried it again and went about half a mile.

As I began the long road back I soon realized that biking was one activity that I could do. The sitting was excellent for me and the positioning was comfortable. So I set off to ride on Friday, December 19. It was cold — 28° (-2.2℃) — and I only went eight miles but it felt good. But it was cold. I forgot how to dress for cold weather riding.

The next day we were buried under 18″ of snow and all outdoor riding was grounded for a while. Conflicts and weather kept me from riding until today.

In a way it was nothing to brag about but today’s ride was out of the South Run Rec Center along the Fairfax County Parkway down to Occoquan. The total distance was 27.2 miles. The group was supposed to be at a C pace and was.

Still, save for the one eight-mile jaunt, I have done no riding since November 8. So I settled in just determined to make the distance.

It soon became apparent that I would move to the front and be a leader. And it really became obvious when we left Occoquan. The hill up Rte 123 is probably 8% grade for about half a mile. Maybe longer.

As the group started up the hill I put in a high cadence and flew up the hill. I left the entire group struggling behind. I’m not a great climber — just determined — but one must figure if you can be in the middle of the pack at Mount Washington that you can climb okay. Plus, I was probably the youngest in the group.

But the more I rode the stronger I felt. Eventually, I was off the front by myself. And it felt good. The 27 miles are a start on the long road back.

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A Tale of Two Jerseys

THE PLAINS, VIRGINIA

The jersey one wears on a club ride can make all the difference in the world. My favorite jersey is my Amgen Tour of California Breakaway From Cancer jersey. But it brings a different look or reaction from other riders than do some of my other jerseys.

I have a jersey from Newton’s Revenge, the July version of the bicycle race up Mount Washington. But few cyclists know of Newton’s Revenge and only astute riders figure out what that jersey is from. But not so the jersey from the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb (MWARBH). It is emblazoned with the words Mount Washington.

So, I can summarize the difference between the jerseys as to what other riders see. First the Breakaway From Cancer jersey:

“Ooo. I wonder what that jersey means? Oh, I think that rider has cancer. I better keep away from him. I certainly don’t want to ask. That would be rude. Poor guy, he’s already losing the hair on his legs. Heck, I can take him!”

The Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb jersey:

“Hey, that guy has a Mount Washington jersey. He must be strong. And looks, he shaves his leg too. I don’t think I can stay with him.”

Budos, France – The MWARBH jersey

And that’s it. Lots of people want to ask me about Mount Washington. No one wants to ask me about cancer.

Today’s ride was a bit strange. A “CC” ride, many of the 50-60 riders were older (you know, my age) or packing on a few extra pounds. From the start, I was out in front, and as usual with these group rides, I had no cue sheet. I sat in and followed a Clydesdale* for a while until it was just the two of us.

I told him I would love to share the work at the front but he’d have to help me with the turns (directions). We stayed together for 2-3 more miles until we came to a short but steep climb. I tore right up the hill and dropped him. I was content to slow at the top and wait but there was a nice descent coming up so I bombed it and missed the turn at the bottom. Oh well.

He told me that climbing wasn’t his specialty. I told him it wasn’t my specialty either but that I enjoy it the most.

Breakaway From Cancer jersey

Eventually, after another wrong turn and doubling back, 10 of us came together and for those who had cue sheets, all had problems determining which way to go. So we made it up.

I took my turns pulling the group and when I let someone move to the front I stayed on their wheel. At Airmont, the psychological games began even though this was a ride and not a race.

Six of us started together on the rollers of Snickersville Turnpike. After the first climb, there were two of us as there would be for the next 11 miles. At times I thought the hairy-legged monster might get the best of me but the last big climb on Snickersville I blew past him. I did wait at the top in part because I had no clue as to where I was going.

We took turns pulling and there were times that I wanted to say “go ahead, you’re stronger today.” And he was probably thinking “oh my God, I’m trying to stay with a guy who just biked up Mount Washington.”

We had talked and I knew at Middleburg to turn and it would be a straight run-in back to The Plains. I didn’t know how far it was though. We made the turn and my companion just blew up. He was still pedaling but just slowed to a crawl. I kept going. In fact, I lifted the pace.

I think after a few hundred yards he gave up trying to bridge back to me. I was feeling good and at each hill, and there were lots of them, I lifted the pace and hammered it. I only looked back once.

I was a little worried that the other four riders would catch the guy I dropped and they would organize a “chase” — not that this was a race. But one thing about today’s group — they wouldn’t know how to chase. It works if everyone is willing to go to the front and take turns doing the work but with this group, almost everyone wanted to sit in where they could use 30% less energy than by taking pulls. Not today.

I hammered the last eight miles solo, never looked back, and arrived 3-4 minutes ahead of the nearest riders.

If I had worn my Breakaway From Cancer jersey they would have stayed with me.

*A Clydesdale is a heaver rider, generally 190 lbs or more

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The BlueRidger Proper

MARSHALL, VIRGINIA

Subtitle: — A Group of One. Again.  

When I rode the BlueRidger in April it was 95°. Today it was in the high 60s. Global warming indeed.   The only difference was the direction. In April we rode in a clockwise direction, riding up Naked Mountain and then Mount Weather before descending to Bluemont and our planned rest stop.

Today it was counterclockwise. This is the BlueRidger Proper. The difference in the two routes is less the climbing but more the safety factor. If we ride in clockwise we have the harder way up Naked Mountain but the easier climb up Mount Weather. But it’s not just a matter of pick your poison because counter-clockwise is harder up Mount Weather but easier up Naked Mountain.

At Paris, Virginia, there is a half-mile stretch on U.S. 50 which can be heavily traveled. There are no shoulders here. If we do the clockwise direction, we are on the road climbing at 10 mph or so. If we do the “proper,” then we come off Mount Weather at Ashby’s Gap and have a one-half mile downhill in which one can easily maintain 40 mph on a road signed at 45 mph. IMHO, it is much safer to ride the proper direction just for this section.

Today’s ride was advertised as a B ride and was the best ride on the list that I could find. I counted 28 riders at the start and I started in the first third. Within the first five miles there were just five of us at the front setting a pretty good pace. “A” riders I figured. Probably the best ride they could find too.  

I took my turns at the front and had the misfortune of doing a “pull” on an incline. When I dropped off I could not match the pace of the group and I was toast. I rode solo but not for long. I was caught by two other riders and the three of us stayed together for a while until we came to another long incline.  

Didn’t anyone know it was my birthday and they were supposed to be nice to me? I wanted to do a birthday ride of at least one mile per year and this one worked.   After 3-4 miles I got dropped again and thought I’m OK watching them 100 yards up the road. After a mile or two of this nonsense, I was surprised by a group of six riders passing me.

Funny, riding solo I didn’t think I could ride any faster but it was easy latching on to the rear of their group and riding faster. Some of it is physics — it is easier to draft behind other riders but some of it’s just mental too — having a pacer in front.   Our group caught my other two up front and we rode together to Bluemont to our rest stop.

Without measuring it I would have told you that we were pulling a 1% grade the entire way but the stats say otherwise. For the 23.5 miles to the General Store, it is rolling but there is no real elevation gain or loss. We averaged 18.2 mph, That’s the advantage of staying in a group.  

After a 15-20 minute rest, while other riders straggled in, a group of 14-15 of us all departed for the climb out of Bluemont up to Mount Weather. I passed those who I was going to pass on the climb out of Bluemont, which was maybe half the group. Then I settled into my own pace. I hate that.   My own pace had me between groups of riders. I couldn’t catch the riders upfront and I was too stubborn to allow myself to be caught by those behind me. Mostly it’s the fear of being caught and then not being able to stay with the new group.

The summit of Mount Weather is rolling with some additional climbs and some descents before reaching the two-mile descent to Ashby’s Gap and U.S. Rte 50. I could see the riders behind me about 300-400 meters but I was staying out in front. And I did.   By the time I got to Naked Mountain I saw but one rider behind me. And I wasn’t going to let him catch me.

After I came off the mountain I did sit up and wait for him. Part of it was being nice but part of it was I was first to a stop sign and there was traffic on the road. I had to wait for him.   It was raining and we were soaked. We stayed together for all but the final two miles. I have to rethink drafting in the rain. All it did was get me a face full of water when I sat behind his wheel.  

At times I thought he should go on without me as I was sure he was stronger after 50 miles in the saddle. But when we turned back on Rte 55 with four miles to go I set a pace that dropped him. Oops. My bad. But I had to. I could see about 100 yards behind him was a group coming on and I didn’t want to get caught by them.

So I opened a gap that kept growing. But the chasers were organized and overtook my friend and eventually overtook me too. Had they caught me on a flat I could have integrated with them but they were flying up a grade when they passed. I had nothing left to join them.

I was 20 seconds behind them to the lot and appeared to be the seventh rider returning. It is not a race but when you do well you pretend that it is. It was a pretty good finish.  

On the day I averaged two mph faster than in April. I can think of three reasons none of which I will claim that I am in better shape. I’m not. (1) It was 95° in April. (2) For the first part of the ride today I was in with a group that ramped up the speed whereas in April I basically was a group of one. (3) In April I dropped back and rode the final 23 miles with another rider who was struggling due to the heat.  

A final note: According to the ride table the “A” rides are 16-18 mph on Hilly Terrain. My final average was 15.9 — 0.1 away from an A pace. I can dream. Happy Birthday to Me!      

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A Father’s Day Ride

CHARLES TOWN, WEST VIRGINIA

This would be a special day — a day I needed on the bike. A 70-mile ride from Woodbridge, Virginia to Charles Town, West Virginia to see my wonderful daughters, Bethany, and Ashley, along with my sons-in-law and grandson.

As I left the house the clouds were very dark with strong winds that would be in my face for all 70 miles. And I am thinking this is a metaphor for my life. I am headed into dark storm clouds. Would the clouds give way to blue skies or would thunder and lightning be in store?

I know my fitness level isn’t where I need it so I decided to take my time. As much as I like to push it on the downhills I decided that I would coast down most hills instead of hammering it. I would enjoy those “whew-hoo” moments. My cadence would show that too as I averaged a lot of zeroes with my 90-100 rpm.

I go the shortest route I know. It also has the least amount of traffic but some roads are still dangerous. I go out through Manassas but Sudley Road past the Manassas Battlefield is a tight squeeze. Gum Springs Road to Braddock Road is okay but Braddock Road is a dirt road in poor shape for about three miles. I ride on U.S. 15 and 50 for a combined four dangerous miles.

After leaving Rte 50, Snickersville Turnpike is a beautiful rolling country road that leads to Airmont and a turn towards Round Hill.

At Airmont, one can see the Blue Ridge Mountains. I take satisfaction looking as far as I can see and knowing that I have crossed all the major road crossings over these summits. Straight ahead is Snickers Gap (Rte 7) and Mount Weather. Further south is Clarks Gap (US Rte 50). To the north is Harpers Ferry and the climb out of the Potomac River Valley. Today’s route connects with a shoulderless Rte 9 over Keyes’ Gap.

I made one rest stop — on Braddock Road where I consumed two energy bars. And that was it. I also consumed one energy bar while on the bike as well as one pack of Sport Beans. When I reached Rte 9 just west of Hillsboro I stopped long enough to down a packet of Hammer Gel.

Eventually, blue skies came out but those gave way to dark rain clouds. Going up Keyes’ Gap I was in a mist which I didn’t mind. It helped me cool off while making it easier to breathe. (There is more oxygen in the air when it is raining.)

The ride was difficult for me. Always a headwind, at times there were wind gusts of 30 mph and no one blocking the wind. These rides are so much easier when others share the lead.

The clouds indeed were dark but nothing bad came of them. Hopefully, that too is a metaphor for my life.

Happy Father’s Day!

Stats and Map

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Six Weeks or Four Days in a Cast

RESTON, VIRGINIA

Oh, I hope Dr. Hanna does not read this…

It was two weeks ago I broke my wrist in a crash. On Monday after the crash, I got fitted in my waterproof cast. It was waterproof only in the fact that it could get wet.

On Thursday I refereed a high school boys varsity district championship match at Brentsville High School. When I returned home and showered I started to get the chills. The night was awful. I was running a high fever and the pain in my hand was almost unbearable.

On Friday I went back to Dr. Hanna who cut off the cast fearing infection in the wound in my hand which was under the cast. I would deal with the fever until Wednesday. I was drained once the fever broke. I was also on antibiotics to kill the infection if it was biological.

In hindsight, the pain was probably caused by sweat inside the cast from the game which seeped into the open wound. It was very painful and probably unrelated to the fever.

Yesterday, Friday, I returned to the doctor with the expectation of being recast. Instead, Dr. Hanna looked at the wound on my hand and examined my wrist. He was reluctant to cast over the still-open wound on my hand and decided to leave my wrist in a removable splint so that the wound will continue to heal.

The next course of action is an X-ray in another week and then, “if things look good,” remain in the splint for six weeks.

Of course, this allowed me the opportunity to ride with The Bike Lane group in Reston. But I wasn’t ever real comfortable. I normally enjoy riding in the pack but not today. One wrong move by another rider and I could go down. And if I went down on the wrist it could break all the way through. So I ended up keeping contact but a safe distance.

The other concession I made was to stay in the saddle for the entire 28-mile ride. I envied my friends as they popped out of the saddle for an extra burst on the steep climbs. But I did not want to stand and put weight on my wrist. I may have given up a little on the climbs and I didn’t bomb the descents but it was nice to ride again. Ultimately, I am hopeful that forcing myself to stay in the saddle, one gets out because it’s easier, I will become a stronger rider.

Four days in a cast. Not bad for a broken wrist.

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Seven Point Six Miles

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Seven point six miles is the distance up the Mount Washington Auto Road. It is also the distance that I rode today, three days after my bike crash which resulted in a broken wrist.

Perhaps there is some symbolism here. Maybe it’s a “sign” but I’m not sure I believe in signs. I don’t even know how to spell symbolism.

I crashed three days ago more figuratively than literally. A broken wrist and six weeks off the bike off would kill my fitness and preparation for the Mount Washington Climb. Information in the emergency room was hard to come by. I was told simply what I pretty much knew – I broke my wrist.

There was a report slipped in with my X-rays but I dropped those at my former* orthopedic surgeon’s office on Friday without reading it. I should have read it.

That hurt

Today was the day to be fitted for a cast. I was not nearly as depressed going into today as I was on Friday. On Friday I believed all my riding had ended. But over the weekend I decided I could, at a minimum, ride a trainer for the next six weeks although I would miss the long training rides with Potomac Pedalers. I would have to be careful and always remain seated because I couldn’t stand and put weight on my wrist.

Short Cast

But doing training work while seated would be better training than out of the saddle. This may turn out okay after all. Don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather not have a broken wrist but I will make the best of it.

Here is my report: Faint transverse radiolucent line in the distal epiphysis of the radius along the lateral margin suggests undisplaced fracture. The doctor went with a short cast over the forearm, waterproof (cool!), and for four weeks not six, at my urging. I’ll have another X-ray in four weeks and will probably go to hard brace for two weeks after that.

I’m going to make 7.6 miles.

*I wrote about my former orthopedic surgeon. Here’s why.

Rather than go straight to the E.R. on Friday I thought of my surgeon who has X-ray equipment in his office. Thinking I would cut out the middledoc, I went to his office and asked if he could see me. I was told he couldn’t which was partially expected.

Being a foot and knee patient since 1991, I was hoping not to be treated as some walk-in but with some deference to my history there. The receptionist told me to wait and she would check. She checked, presumably with the doctor but who knows? Come back to see us after the E.R.

In the E.R. a nurse asked if I had an orthopedic surgeon. Almost without listening to my answer (yes) she then offered her opinion, “the only thing I would suggest is not to go to [fill in former doctor’s name here].” I told her that was my doctor but I would respect her opinion.

After two hours in the E.R. (not bad for an E.R. visit) I left with my X-rays and drove to Dr. Former’s office. When I tried to make an appointment for Monday I was told the earliest would be Thursday. Frustrated and hurting, I left my X-rays at the office and left.

Potomac Hospital had an orthopedic doctor, Joseph Hannah, on duty so I found his number and called the office. They would work me in on Monday.

Monday came and I went to Dr. Former’s office to pick up my X-ray. They wanted to know if I had made an appointment to pick up my X-rays. Arrrg. Fifteen minutes later I was out of there to see Dr. Hannah. And he’s good.

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