peaceonabike - A Cancer Survivor's Journey to Find Peace on a Bike

May 27, 2012June 1, 2023

Pedal Pals

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

I am a “Pedal Pal.” That is a pen pal for a cyclist who is riding 4,000 miles to raise money and cancer awareness. The 4K for Cancer started at Johns Hopkins as the Hopkins4K but was now taken over by another organization. I was asked to be a Pedal Pal for this year’s group.

My friend, Alan, graciously allowed me to be at his house in Alexandria at 5:30 p.m. and he drove me to Baltimore. Then I could bike from Baltimore to D.C. and back to Alexandria.

When we arrived at 6:45 it was easy to spot the riders. Team Portland wore blue jerseys. Team Seattle wore gold jerseys. Team San Francisco wore white jerseys. The riders were standing in a dedication circle holding hands and one by one announcing who they were riding for on that day.

I had to find Chey Hillsgrove, the Team Portland leader. He is the Pedal Pal for Jake the Hero Grecco. I didn’t know when we would be rolling out and made sure I found him first. He was very gracious and very thankful that I came to say hello to him.

I then found Patrick Sheridan, my Pedal Pal. He introduced me to our riding team of Jeff Graves, Chris Chitterling, and Lauren Shoener, as well as Lauren’s father, who would be riding with us. At some point before we rolled out we had an alumni rider, Zack, join us but I don’t remember meeting him until I gave him my water bottle – because he forgot water bottles. He also looked like Screech on Saved by the Bell.

Shortly after 7:00 a.m., we rolled out of the parking lot and over to the Inner Harbor. A strange sight (to me) was seeing so many of the bikes turned upside down. Perhaps in my circle, we never do that because we would smash our bike computers. The riders were then called over for the opening ceremony.

After the National Anthem, the riders dipped their rear wheels into the Inner Harbor which was followed by a group photo op. The San Francisco group was called up and were ready for the send-off. Although I had pictured a peloton of 30 riders, that was not to be. We were sent off in groups of four or five, each one spaced seemingly 3-4 minutes apart. Our group was the third to go and it was then I saw the mystery alumni rider, Zack.

Within a few hundred yards we were caught up with the two front groups and were in the midst of a 10k run. Perhaps the four riders had cue sheets and our alumni rider did as well but I didn’t. I was simply along for the ride.

We had only gone one mile when we got on a trail littered with broken bottles and glass. Stay classy Baltimore.

We meandered, literally, about the streets. When we looked up we saw riders headed in different directions. So we followed them. We went east on Ostend Street then made a U-turn and went west. And others followed us. I was along for the ride.

Screech then led us down a street with a clear “No Outlet” sign visible. I enjoyed pointing to it while we passed it. We turned around. I was along for the ride.

As little confidence as we had in our alumni leader, others may have had less in theirs because they asked us to go to the front and be the lead group. Jeff then stepped up and took the lead on reading and calling out directions and I did most of the pulling. Just tell me where to turn. It worked well because I had a good odometer. Not sure about the other riders. I can’t imagine doing a cross-country trip without one though.

Once we finally got rolling we got to the BWI Trail. When we came to Stoney Run Road we turned left instead of right. We even stopped about 50 yards from where we turned to contemplate our decision and one of the 4K vans even stopped and didn’t say a word (that we were going the wrong way). Nice. We went 1.5 miles before turning around. We rode back four miles when we could have continued with a right turn and been back on course after two miles.

We stopped in Jessup for Rest Stop #1. While our bonus miles had dropped us back as the third or fourth group in we were the first to leave. As we rolled on the open road we noticed we soon dropped Zack, our “leader.” We waited and discovered he needed a tool to fix his saddle.

Once fixed, we dropped Zack again. This time we learned that he hadn’t eaten breakfast. And that he ran four marathons. And six half marathons. He loved telling us what a great endurance athlete he was.

Zack would have a rough day. He was on a borrowed bike (not his fault), lost his water bottle (partially his fault), and failed to eat breakfast before a 65-mile ride in the heat (completely his fault).

With our confidence in Zack waning, I asked Jeff to read me the street names on the cue sheet. That’s when I learned we would connect with the Capital Crescent Trail, a trail I ride 2-3 times per week. I told him to get us there and I would lead us home. We were brimming with confidence.

We rolled into Rest Stop #2 in College Park. Then things started to go terribly wrong. Zack was insistent that we would have to wait for all the groups to check in and we had heard one group was more than one hour behind. We were not patiently waiting.

To make matters more confusing, Zack told us that one of the drivers (alumni) stated we had to wait while another one was clearly telling us to go. Lauren’s father was with us and was really pushing the issue to ride. When three groups checked in, we left.

We followed the directions and then they just blew up. They made no sense. We showed locals and they simply shook their heads. We used Barry’s rules of navigating: (1) If you’re trying to get to the river (Potomac) follow the creek as it flows downward; and (2) If you don’t know where you’re going at least get there in a hurry.

Even stopping and asking a Maryland Park Policewoman, she was also confused by our directions. So at Queen’s Chapel Road in Hyattsville, we stopped in a broken bottle, glass-strewn Exxon parking lot.

It was hot and we were thirsty. It had been a while since we saw a support van and we were all out of water. I gave Zack some money and told him to go into the CVS and bring back a couple of gallons of water. Mark went across the street and got himself a Coke.

Eventually, both support vans found us and since we had been leading and chalking the turns, the other groups followed. Zack was insistent that we all stay together and Lauren’s dad not-so-gently informed him that we were in a pretty unsafe area. Common sense took over at that point.

That was the end of Zack’s day. Not literally because he kept riding with us but he fell to the back and didn’t say a word after that. He was useless.

Patrick found us a nice car route to D.C. although we rode on the sidewalk on Queen’s Chapel instead of in the street. I told Patrick we couldn’t ride down North Capitol Street which was his plan but we could find parallel streets. Although when he said we would run into Michigan Avenue I thought that could work an alternative route.

We came to the bridge that crossed Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor and I instructed the group to stop. I didn’t tip my hand, at first, but I knew exactly where I was.

I had twice ridden the Metropolitan Branch Trail at lunchtime in the winter and didn’t like it. But I at least recognized the area. I had Jeff chalk an arrow to turn on 7th, then on Monroe, then on 8th. Then we joined the Metropolitan Branch Trail. I told our group the MBT would take us right to Union Station, downtown. Talk about big smiles. They called the vans immediately.

We followed the trail to Union Station then down to the Mall. I took our group to 15th Street simply to chalk it then we backtracked for bonus miles. I took my group for a tour of Hanes Point then Jeff and I went ahead and chalked the rest of the route while the others took a rest in the shade of a tree at the Jefferson Memorial.

Once our task was completed, we took the 14th Street Bridge across the Potomac and followed the Mt. Vernon Trail to Old Town Alexandria. We did briefly stop at Gravelly Point and watched the planes land at Reagan National Airport.

I said goodbye to my new friends and had to find my way to Alan’s house, without a 4K cue sheet. It was easier that way.

May 26, 2012May 29, 2022

My First Bike Ride With Dad

FROSTBURG, MARYLAND

I bike. My dad bikes. (Badly) His bike riding is the subject of many jokes, all behind his back, of course.

I learned to ride a bike in our backyard in New Salem, (Armstrong Co.) Pa. when I was 6 or 7 years old. I never remember riding a bike with my dad.

As a dad, I rode with all my kids, even subjecting Andrew to two days of a planned D.C. to Pittsburgh ride on the last day he was 12 years old. But I never remember riding a bike with my dad. I don’t think I did.

We grew up below the poverty level. The two bikes we had were bought by my brother and me. Bernie actually sold magazine subscriptions enough to get a bike. I was a paperboy for the Piqua Daily Call. When I got enough money I bought a bike. We never had bikes for a family ride.

In Piqua, Ohio, my brother, Bernie, and I would ride together to the Piqua Country Club where we were caddies. We even somehow managed to ride to the public golf course, Echo Hills, with golf clubs on our backs. I was 12 years old. But I never remember riding a bike with my dad.

A few weeks ago I mentioned to my dad about going for a ride on the Great Allegheny Passage, a rail trail that goes from Cumberland, Maryland to McKeesport, Pennsylvania, and soon connecting to Pittsburgh. A large portion is in Somerset Co., Pa.

My dad expressed desire at going but said that he could never keep up with me. I told him not to worry about that.

Although Dad had complained of back pain, he assured me that riding a bike would be no problem. After all, he rode 1.5 miles on the stationary bike in the doctor’s office, he reminded me. So we made a plan to ride on the trail. We would park cars strategically so he would only have to ride one way. And I would make it downhill. I thought.

Artwork at the Eastern Continental Divide

Our plan was to ride east to west going through two tunnels and crossing the eastern continental divide. My sister, Betsy, would join us as well. There was one thing wrong with that plan. Other than the section from Cumberland to Frostburg, the Frostburg to Deal section had the highest climbing of any section on the trail. We would ge going uphill. Damn me.

Arriving in Frostburg, I was shocked at how heavy his bike was as I unloaded it from my van. Dad had better bikes but at least one was stolen from his R.V. while my parents were camping in York, Pa. He ended up finding this old heavyweight bike at a garage sale. It had the one requirement he wanted – coaster brakes.

I love climbing. I am more enthusiastic than talented yet the satisfaction of reaching the top is, well, satisfying. My dad is not a climber. Although the rail trail is just a 1-2% railroad grade it’s not like we’re ascending Mount Washington and its average 12% grade. But to my dad it was.

We had gone but 300 yards and my dad says “I think I’ll walk now.” I can’t describe how I felt. I was annoyed that I drove up this weekend and we rode all of 300 yards and he was walking. I was annoyed at myself for starting here. In fairness, this was one the one section of the trail that wasn’t true to its railroad past and did climb up to 4% or so for 100 yards.

Once over the hump we settled into a pattern of riding for about 1/2 mile and then resting It was sort of funny. Sort of.

I do not know how I will be at 82 years old. Or if I will be. I don’t appreciate how the cardiovascular system works and how it may not replenish the red blood cells as fast. I do know that we didn’t see any other octogenarians on the trail.

The trail was full of wildlife. Five turtles, four snakes, (including one rattlesnake), three rabbits, two chipmunks, and one deer. One guy showed us where the mileage marker had been removed because it also marked a rattelsnake den.

We entered the Bordon Tunnel which was unlit and I think surprised my dad. When he saw through it he said “We can see right through it.” Only once inside did he realize how difficult it was for the eyes to adjust. Dad was in front of a guy who had two lights on bright and he was able to stay in front of those lights.

At the longer Big Savage Tunnel he had gone about 100 yards and I heard him say “Is this only 3/4 mile? – I can walk this.” Don’t walk. Don’t walk. I kept riding, leaving Betsy to stay with him. At the exit I climbed to the top of the portal to take pictures of them exiting, not knowing when they would exit.

But Dad had a brief acclimation to the tunnel which caused some dizziness but quickly adjusted and rode his bike through the tunnel. He made it through safely.

We stopped at the Eastern Continental Divide, the location where rainfall to the east flows to the Chesapeake Bay and Atlantic Ocean watershed and to the west to the Ohio (River), Mississippi, and Gulf of Mexico watershed. It was here I saw an elevation map for the trail painted on the wall. Frostburg was much lower in elevation than Meyersdale, something I hadn’t accounted for. That was my first realization that I had screwed up.

Family photo. Dad. Me. Betsy.
The guy taking the photo said “look mad.” Only Betsy played along.

At the Divide we had another mile to go before reaching Deal. It was here we parked his Jeep as a bailout measure. It was a good measure. He was tired and for someone who had only ridden 1.5 miles on a stationary bike, the 11 miles we just covered, on a trail, was quite an accomplishment. These were 11 trail miles by an 82-year-old with a couple of stents.

Storm clouds were rolling in, the temperature was dropping, and it was a good place for him to stop. I loaded his bike in his Jeep for the drive home. And that concluded my first bike ride with Dad.

Betsy and headed on to Meyersdale where she had parked. It was another seven miles. Arriving at Meyersdale we found my dad, who had driven there, probably to make sure Betsy got back to her card safely.

Our journey over 18 miles took almost 4.5 hours. A little more than four mph.

After dropping off Betsy, I headed back up to the trail to Frostburg. We had been hearing thunder for two hours but could tell it was two mountains over. Yet rain was near us and we had just a brief exposure to it. But going back through Deal the trail was soaked although I hadn’t got caught in it, it did make for harder conditions.

My attire for the day was “relaxed” and I wore sandals and had platform pedals on Andrew’s bike, which he never rides anymore. I went up the rail at a good pace. There are days on the road bike when I don’t average 16 mph yet I made the 18 miles back in little more than one hour. I averaged almost 16.5 mph. I say I smoked it.

I can reflect on the ride. In 82 years this was the first day I rode my with dad. And in Deal, we walked around, where I found a plaque commemorating trail builders. I think a commemorative brick back at the tunnel had been promised, but in the end, they simply erected a plaque. There on the plaque were the names of two trail builders – Barry & Andrew Sherry, a reminder of the days this dad used to ride with his son.

After uploading my ride data, I got an email that RideWith GPS made the Meyersdale to Frostburg section a timed segment. I’ve never been first on any segment but there I was in first. I smoked it going back.

May 19, 2012July 23, 2015

Bike to Work Day

FALLS CHURCH, VA

It was Bike to Work Day and a gorgeous one at that. Chilly, and low 50s to start, but after 10 minutes of riding I quickly was comfortable and wasn’t cursing my decision not to wear arm warmers. Rather than navigate that mess known as Minnieville Road, I drove the van to the commuter lot so that I could take the lightly traveled Telegraph Road instead.

My route would take me down Tanyard Hill Road into Occoquan and across the pedestrian bridge that spans the Occquan River. Then Ox Road (123) to Lee Chapel, Burke Lake Rd., Lake Braddock, Olley Dr., Guinea Rd., some exploring a shortcut which never materialized, then Prosperity Rd. to Gallows Rd. then hooking up with the Washington & Old Dominion trail.

One of the joys of biking is traveling the road less traveled. I bet thousands if commuters travel through or by Occoquan each day without realizing a bridge exists for cyclists. And walkers.

Crossing the Occoquan River. By bike.

At Gallows Road I stopped at a Bike to Work pit stop for my free T-shirt then continued on. In Falls Church I stopped at their lively pit stop. The police officer on duty was Jimmy Brooks, a friend of mine.

Officer Brooks

It was fun seeing Jimmy and he made sure that I knew the ABC’s of cycling. A is for air pressure. B is for brakes. C is for crank (or drive train). He said I passed.

From there I followed the Custis Trail to Rosslyn retracing my ride of three years ago. But I didn’t crash.

In Washington D.C. I rode by the Washington Monument, even diverting to go through some water sprinklers. It felt good.

My route home was a little different. I followed the Mount Vernon Trail to Four Mile Run to the W&OD. On the Four Mile Run Trail I was about to announce my presence passing a woman, who wasn’t wearing a helmet, when I got a puff. Of her cigarette smoke.

Rather than pass I slowed down and heard a “ding-ding” of a bell from a rider behind me who wanted to pass. I said “you’ve got to be kidding me.” I was thinking out loud why I should warn this woman about me about to overtake her when someone needed to warn her about the effects of smoking.

The guy behind me heard me and started to apologize for ringing his bell. I laughed. I told him what I was thinking and he agreed with me.

Barry with Officer Brooks

Officer Brooks invited me back on my return trip which was fun. Music, smoothies, ice cream, and a slow rider contest which was going slow without put a foot down. I won my heat.

W&OD

After leaving the W&OD at Gallows Road it was then a matter of riding home. The legs felt good. Some days when biking home from work the legs start to hurt after 30 miles but today, after 70, the legs still felt good. It was the best 77.77 miles I have felt on a bike but maybe that’s because I rode slow for BTWD.

But road rage???? In more than 2,000 miles of riding this year I have been honked or yelled at three times. Today? Four. All in Fairfax County. Wow. Somebody who was stuck in a car was grumpy today. Jealous.

April 22, 2012August 29, 2020

Lake Anna Century Classic

SPOTSYLVANIA, VIRGINIA

I arrived at the start location 30 minutes prior and went to registration. There I paid cash and received – nothing. No wrist band. No packet. No bumper sticker or key chain. No swag. Nothing at all.

Most organized events identify the riders with a wrist band (America’s Most Beautiful Ride) or helmet sticker (Livestrong) which shows who paid and who hasn’t. My thought was some riders may come and just ride. And who would know the difference?

In fact, at America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride one section of the course is closed to only riders who go through a checkpoint. So no interlopers could jump on that course. But here, anyone could just show up and ride.

Benefiting the Law Enforcement United fund, the sheriff’s car had blocked Courthouse Road so that all riders (I’m guessing 200-300 but I have no idea) could roll out together. The first 3-4 miles is a typical roll-out as friends ride with friends and people like me, just find someone their own speed to ride with. I was at the front.

I wasn’t at the front for long. Some people passed me either to share the workload or to tell me I wasn’t fast enough. But I was in the front group. And we were rolling.

The organization did not have a downloadable map so I went to their website, found their cue sheet and mapped out the ride at RideWith GPS. com then downloaded that to my Garmin. And hoped it was right. As we were flying my Garmin beeped – a sign of a turn. I glanced down and it showed a left turn. I looked up and saw a sign that had an arrow – left turn. My group when flying by – straight.

Safely, and quickly, I turned left and yelled ahead “TURN!!!”

It was a reaction. I then soft pedaled to see if anyone would join me as I headed down the road alone. Two guys quickly did although I’m not sure if they were in the front group and had been trailing me. We rode together for a couple of miles and were joined by some others. I don’t know if that front group ever turned around although I assume this was them.

Without a word, we had a nice pace line going. All of us took our turn moving one by one to the front and keeping the pace high. Too high. We were averaging 20 mph over the first 20 miles and I feared that I would pop at any moment.

Yesterday was beautiful — too beautiful. I couldn’t resist the temptation to bike home from work. I took it slow but still had ridden 41 miles the day before this ride. And not that I didn’t think I could do 100 after 40 — it’s just that I can’t ride 100 at 20 mph after riding 40 the day before.

We were flying and I spotted a small sign for a rest stop. I called out and a few of us stopped. We were the first group to go by. The think the rest of our group doubled back and joined us. There were no porta-johns. Just a couple of nice ladies with some water and chocolate chip cliff bars. A church and lots of trees.

After a short break to refill the bottles we reconstituted and took off flying again. It became apparent at some point I would need to find my exit strategy. I couldn’t hang with this group for 100 miles and the question was when and how I would drop off.

After mile 28 we hit an incline, only half a mile, but one where I would typically be shed by such a group. The steep climbs slow everyone but these half-mile 3-4% grades are enough where the young guys just keep the pace high and I can’t match them. But I was although I was struggling.

I just didn’t have the juice in my legs today to power up the climb. So I spun. My cadence was pushing 130 and one rider remarked “your cadence is killing me.” I told him it was killing me too. Remarkably I stayed with them and recovered and we rolled together to the rest stop at mile 40. There they had water, fruit, and cliff bars. And suntan lotion, which would be useful on this sunny day where the temperature climbed to 80 degrees.

Although other riders came in 3-5 minutes after us, when five of our guys took off, I foolishly joined them. I noticed another rider trying to cross New Bridge Road so I asked the group to slow it down for him to join us. They did. To 23 mph. Then I knew.

I knew if this was all they would slow to let a rider catch up that I couldn’t hang much longer. I dropped then paced the rider back up to our group. We rode for a couple more miles and the rider behind me dropped his chain. The group kept going. We hit another rise and here I decided I just couldn’t match every acceleration for 100 miles. At mile 48 I was done.

Then I discovered that until then I hadn’t enjoyed one bit of the ride. If I wasn’t setting the pace I was watching the wheel in front of me. And I was tired. Tired from 40 yesterday and tired from hanging on today, I resigned myself to ride solo over more than half the route and enjoy the ride.

I was in “no man’s land” for more than 15 miles. I knew my group was up ahead and there were plenty of riders behind me but I was in between. And I was OK with that.

At Mile 58 I saw a sign for a rest stop at Shiloh Methodist Church. I pulled in and there was nothing there other than a port-john. A couple of riders also pulled in. Although we rolled out together I was in no mood to try to keep up with anyone. I let them go.

At Beaverdam, mile 74, I came to a pretty beat up country store. It was just what I needed. I was out of water and I was able to buy some plus a Snickers bar. Only when I left did I see a sign advertising this as a rest stop.

I left trailing some riders and in front of another and that is where I would stay. Never catching anyone and staying ahead of the guys behind me. Not the smartest way to ride but I didn’t have to worry about staying with a group when the legs weren’t up to it.

My Garmin showed 94.5 miles when I arrived back to the start so I kept going. I know Garmin had shut down at mile 5 and it took another 0.5 to get it back but I still wanted to ride to read 100. So I went out another three miles then turned around. Even if they call it a “century,” in my book it’s not a true century unless one rides 100 miles.

On the day I averaged 18 mph for 100 miles.* Probably 19+ with the group and 17- without. But still OK being the first century of the season, the day after riding 40 miles home from work, and one month after knee surgery. And it was windy too.

We crossed Lake Anna eight times, all between mile 30 and 50. Many of the roads were back country roads in the woods although the last few miles were on the busy shoulderless Courthouse Road.

As far as support the ride gets a “D.” Definitely below the average organized event with a very small variety of food at only two locations and nothing after mile 40 when we needed the most. No water unless you had money to stop at a store. But it’s about the ride and most of my rides I don’t look for support, but nor do I pay $45 for that privilege.

___
*Adjusting for the half mile without Garmin the distance was 100.71 miles over 5:35:21 or 18.02 mph.

April 8, 2012July 30, 2015

Knock Knock Knocking on President’s Door

FREDERICK, MARYLAND

I was pleased to see “Knock, Knock, Knocking on President’s Door” posted as a Potomac Pedalers ride for today. I last did this ride almost three years ago and suffered. I rode with a broken wrist and a yet-to-be-diagnosed e.Coli infection.

It wasn’t until two years later that I uploaded my data to RidewithGPS.com that I realized how sick I was. I knew I had to come back and ride it “healthy” albeit three years older.

I counted 30 people for this A/BB/B ride. Wheels down at 9:00 a.m. It was 39 degrees. And windy. We split into two groups – the As (and BBs) and the Bs. I looked at the Bs and (foolishly) decided I would try to ride with the As. That is always a bad idea. I should have stuck with the Bs.

In those first five miles we shed a number of riders, all of whom dropped back to the following B group. But I was struggling to keep up with the As.

As we hit a rise I started trailing off as did another rider. He told me that he knew he didn’t belong with them and would be dropped. But then he picked it up, integrated with them and I had to watch from 200 meters back for the next seven miles.

As we hit the serious climb in Cunningham Falls State Park I caught him, rode with him, then dropped him on the climb up Park Central. As we climbed I kept wondering how I did this with a broken wrist three years ago. I couldn’t stand out of the saddle and put weight on my wrist so I had to sit in all ride. I realized that even with a healthy wrist this was a tough climb.

From Mile 5 until the Sheetz break in Thurmont (Mile 31), I was a lone rider. I caught the previously mentioned rider and was passed by a real strong rider, “probably 35” (years old) said another about him. But that was it. I could have been on a solo ride.

At Sheetz the A group was getting ready to ride and foolishly (again) I decided I would ride with them. The rider who had passed me, wearing a green fleece looking jersey, went to the front and set the pace. And pace. And pace.

At the Sheetz in Thurmont

It was windy and perhaps 11 of us were struggling to keep the pace. I was working hard, (struggling) and moved to the back in case I wanted to drop off the pace. That would not be necessary.

At the Sheetz in Thurmont

At mile 43 we hit a rise and two of us dropped off the pace until the top of the hill. I thought the group would soft pedal for 10-15 seconds and let us integrate. Nope.

There had been two women riding and one of them, Stephanie Becker, dropped back when I did. After a few minutes of watching the group 200 meters in front and coming to a stop sign where they had not waited for us I said “I’m Barry.” She may as well should get to know me because we weren’t going to bridge the gap and it was apparent they weren’t interested in playing nice and waiting.

We rode at our own pace, both taking turns in the wind, and riding sensibly until the end. We discovered the group split up not long after we were shed. Just another Potomac Pedalers Ride. Sigh.

Seen on the Ride. From Jeremiah Bishop’s Gran Fondo.

Comparing metrics to three years ago, today wasn’t a whole lot better. I want to think the wind made it harder and I would have done better.

I rode 0.5 mph faster today and I want to believe I would have been at least 1.0 mph faster if not for the wind. My heart rate was only six bpm lower today. But I am three years older. And I’m happy.

March 13, 2012August 25, 2020

Recovery

WOODBRIDGE, VA

It seems like I’ve been down this road before. Too many times. This makes five surgeries in the last eight years.*

Nothing comes close to the cancer surgery two and a half years ago at Johns Hopkins. For that, I could only tell Ashley “this sucks” when she called. Yesterday I was able to tell her a lot more. And “sucks” wasn’t part of it.

I had the same knee surgery in 2006 to remove the torn portion of my meniscus. For that, I was on crutches for two weeks. By the second week, I had returned to work, on crutches, but went to the fitness center at lunchtime to pedal a stationary bike.

When I got home from the surgery yesterday I walked very gingerly to the front door and into the house. I balanced myself against the wall as necessary but never picked up a crutch. Or a pain pill.

Today I got the bike out. I put on tennis shoes, not the clip-ins, and wanted to see if I could pedal.

I could!

I didn’t go far, maybe 200-300 yards. But I went. The doctor said let the pain be my guide.

Pedaling is easier than walking. Unless I’m standing out of the saddle, it’s not supporting my body weight.

I’m not ready for a long ride. But I’m ready to begin recovery. Let the healing begin.

___
*Two foot surgeries, two knee surgeries, and one cancer surgery

March 12, 2012July 23, 2015

Peace on a Bike – II

ALTOONA, PA

Even in “winter,” the climb up Glenwhite Road from Horseshoe Curve is beautiful. There are enough Mountain Laurels that the forest retains a healthy look of green. A white water stream follows much of the road. From the time I turned onto Kittanning Point Road only two cars passed by on the next seven miles. I find it so peaceful riding here and it was a great place to come the day before surgery.

I created a 62 mile (100 km) ride and downloaded it to my bike’s Garmin. When I parked at Logan Valley Mall in Altoona and went to retrieve the route – it was gone. I must have screwed it up. More importantly, that meant I didn’t know where I was headed except up the mountain and I would improvise after that.

When I turned onto Kittanning Point Road I could hear a train above me, struggling to get up the mountain – the wheels creaking under the weight of the load. For a while I was “racing” the train to get to Horseshoe Curve. I smiled when I saw it ahead of me on the curve.

Passing by the Visitors’ Center, I was surprised that Horseshoe Curve was closed for the season. The trains still go by. And so did this cyclist although I did not see a single other cyclist today.

The climb up the mountain was harder than I remembered. I once went up it sitting down and briefly thought that would be today’s goal. Then it was a matter of just getting up it without stopping.

At the top I made it to Gallitzin but did not find the road to Cresson. I ended up at the entrance to the Allegheny Portage Railroad. From here, US Rte 22, the quickest way to Cresson, is a limited access divided four lane road off limits to my bike. I had to slip around the barriers and cut through the park on an access road to Old Rte 22 – Admiral Peary Hwy. I was comfortable cutting through the park even with the barriers in place because I park employee once told me to do that – that’s it’s OK for cyclists to use the access road.

Admiral Peary Highway in Cresson, Pa.

Admiral Robert Peary was an explorer who claimed to have led the first expedition, on April 6, 1909, to reach the geographic North Pole. He was from Cresson. Admiral Peary Highway, from Cresson to Ebensburg is a two lane shoulderless road with almost no flat sections. It’s either descending or climbing. It’s not my favorite road as there is a fair amount of traffic although there was no road rage on this day.

Mount Aloysius College, Cresson, Pa.

Once in Ebensburg, I saw a sign for a Bike Route and thought it was a less traveled road parallel to the main street. Instead it led me to the Ghost Town Trail — a nice rail trail but not suitable for a long ride on a road bike with its crushed limestone base. I rode it for 200 yards then jumped back on the road.

Ebensburg, Pa.
Notice above the red car Christmas decorations are still on the poles.

After Ebensburg I was winging it. I saw Alley Buck Road and remembered seeing that on a map it but didn’t see that it was also Beulah Road going in the opposite direction towards Nanty Glo. After a mile of headed the wrong way and sensing it – I found a man in his yard and asked for directions. He told me to turn around and go back to where I came from. I didn’t know if that was helpful or a warning. A cousin once warned me that the people around here are “rough.”

Ghost Town Trail, Ebensburg, Pa.

I crossed US 422 and headed north — until that didn’t feel right anymore. So I turned south. I didn’t realize that I had come to the town of Colver. I guess I was expecting more. There I asked a father and son for directions to Loretto.

At first they said go to Ebensburg and get on 22. I reminded them that I was on a bike. Then they suggested Peary Hwy. I then told them I needed to take back roads – the most direct route. So they sent me to Carrolltown.

In Carrolltown I was flying down a country road which felt right. Still, as I passed a house and saw a man in his garage I decided to stop. I told him how far I had traveled (50 miles) and that I was headed to Loretto then Gallitzin. He told me that the road would take me to “Loretta (sp).” Yikes, I wondered if we were talking about the same place.

Outside of Loretto/Loretta I stopped a car at a stop sign to make sure I was on the right road. I was.

Loretto, Pa.

In Loretto I talked to a couple about the next leg. Gallitzin. And they say that men don’t ask for directions.

On the road to Gallitzin I saw a mileage sign for “Gallitzin 3.” Then I came to a T and saw a sign “Ashville (left), Cresson (right).” There was no mention to the direction of Gallitzin. Love the Pennsylvania road signs. By feel, I was getting ready to turn right when a car pulled up. I asked directions. And right was correct.

That would begin the last three mile climb of the day, perhaps the hardest, if for no other reason I already had 65 miles in my legs. The last mile in Gallitzin was tough. Narrow steep streets, still with the gravel of winter on them. I didn’t think I would make the last two blocks. Knee hurting, I pushed through.

It’s hard to judge effort and the torn meniscus added pain or robbed me of power but the only other time I felt I would not make a climb was my first time up Mount Washington. I looked for a place to unclip and put a foot down but each pedal stroke got me closer to the top. And then it was a matter of a seven mile descent.

Garmin says my average cadence was 77 rpm. That seems high given all the climbing and lots of coasting, although I didn’t get in a tuck and not pedal nearly as much as one may think. But that’s more than 25,000 turns of the pedals. And every one hurt.

Knee Surgery Tomorrow

Surgery tomorrow. But peace on the bike today.

March 4, 2012July 23, 2015

The Little Things

RESTON, VIRGINIA

The shop ride at The Bike Lane in Reston was canceled today because of the overnight rain and the rain forecast for most of this morning. But I went to Reston to pick up some bike parts and decided to ride on the W&OD.

I wasn’t prepared for a long ride but the more I rode the more I wanted to ride. Until I bonked.

But it’s the little things that often make a ride. And today had some of those moments.

Around Herndon I passed a young woman, Ellen, who appeared to be just restarting from a stop. I was then surprised to see that she was sitting on my wheel. I wanted to warn her that she should announce her presence lest she be hit by some flying snot rockets, of which there were a few.

We passed a man who had two dogs on leashes and one, a pit bull, appeared determined to CHASE. Someone on a bike. Ellen moved to the outside of me. I thanked her for letting me be closest to the dog.

We didn’t have long together. She was out for a short ride before turning around. But our brief conversation, especially me recalling my encounter with those Pennsylvania dogs was a simple pleasure.

I kept riding and reached Purcellville where I left the W&OD and went to Loudoun Golf and Country Club. There I met my son-in-law, Bryan Snow. Another simple pleasure.

With Bryan Snow at Loudoun Golf and Country Club

The ride to Purcellville was tough. A strong wind was blowing — at times it was a direct head wind while at other times it was a cross wind. Plus it is a gradual uphill climb to Purcellville.

The terminus of the W&OD at Purcellville

I had hoped for a strong tail wind on the return but the winds were swirling and were mostly cross winds. So I fought it all day. I was not prepared for a long ride, I had no water or food. And no money either. About 10 miles from the finish I felt it. I bonked. I was out of energy. I knew it because even the slightest grades and I was out of the saddle rather than sitting and producing a constant pedaling rhythm.

While it’s not weighing on my mind like the cancer surgery of 2 1/2 years ago, my upcoming surgery has me appreciating each remaining ride until I take the forced time off the bike. And appreciate the little things such as a simple conversation or a short visit.

But next time I’ll take some food. Or at least water.

February 26, 2012August 31, 2020

Velodrome Country

TREXLERTOWN, PA

I wasn’t sure that I would get back here. I was here to attend a fundraiser last night for Jake Grecco, a 7-year old battling brain cancer — he’s also the son of my 4th cousin, Stacey Lowmaster. After the fundraiser when Stacey asked if we would like to meet Jake. All cycling was off. Jake trumps cycling every time.

L-R: Gary Gravina, Betsy Sherry, Stacey Gravina, Jake Grecco, Barry Sherry

After a wonderful morning visiting Jake and his family, then saying goodbye to my sister, Betsy, I realized I still had just enough time to return and finish yesterday’s ride. It was windy but not with the unsafe gusts of yesterday. The route, downloaded to my Garmin, proved to be one with lots of turns. I had no idea where I was going – In Garmin We Trust.

Valley Preferred Velodrome, Trexlertown, Pa.

I retraced yesterday’s attempted route for six miles and then went down some new roads. I had hoped to ride 26 miles without putting a foot down but when I came to a beautiful barn I knew I had to stop to take some pictures.

I found a unique shed with implements attached to the outside. I stopped at the foot of the driveway then asked permission “to come aboard.” The owner was very pleased that I asked permission to photograph his shed and glad that I found it interesting.

Near Kutztown I realized I was in Amish Country. I passed an Amish wood working shop then met a group of cyclists coming in the opposite direction. They had good form but wore no helmets. They were on road bikes but wore no “fancy” cycling clothes. Then I realized they were young Amish men returning from church. I wanted a photo but respected their beliefs and simply waved. And they waved back.

I turned down a country road and spotted two women with three large dogs. And I had to go past them. I love dogs but still remember my encounter in 2010 in which two Rottweillers tried to get to know me better. I didn’t want to pedal past them and trigger a chase reaction. Well, a chase and bite reaction.

I slowed then called out “safe to pass?” One of the women said it was although the three dogs were running loose. They may have had different ideas. So I stopped. The women gathered up the dogs and two of them came over to sniff me and say hello.

We were friends. At this point, I was about three miles from the finish. I just pedaled home thankful for another day on the bike. After returning home, I found out from my cousin, Doug Sherry, that I had passed about two miles from his house. I feel so bad. Next time he better have food waiting.

February 25, 2012August 31, 2020

Safe, Unsafe, or Stupid

TREXLERTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA

We, or at least I, have a saying: There are three types of riding – “Safe, unsafe, and stupid.”
And often the line between unsafe riding and stupid riding is blurred.

I came to Trexlertown, Pa. which is home to the famous Valley Preferred Cycling Center’s Velodrome. It was cold (38°) and windy (winds were steady at 30-40 mph with gusts even higher). I had budgeted time to ride before meeting my sister, Betsy, in Allentown.

Sorry, folks! America’s Favorite Velodrome is Closed for the Season.

Snow was blowing. The roads were bare so the snow wasn’t sticking but it was blowing. And here in the mecca of east coast cycling, I saw no one.

I took my time. I didn’t want to go out in this weather but knew I must. Ten minutes passed. The van was rocking from the wind and I could feel the cold air blowing in. I didn’t want to go but yet…

…I was here and it was time to MAN UP!!

Then I saw three cyclists arrive and that was my cue. If they could ride, I had no excuses. I kitted up and headed off. I had briefly thought about asking to join them but figured they were stronger than me. Plus I am nursing a torn meniscus so I didn’t need to push it to keep up.

I headed off into the wind. And it was strong. I had downloaded a ride that was on RideWithGPS to my Garmin bike computer with just the right distance (28 miles) and turns (a bunch) to be interesting. After 3-4 miles of fighting the winds I saw three cyclists coming at me and they were soft-pedaling. It was the three guys that had been in the parking lot.

My thought only turned to how slow they were going, with the wind, and me kicking myself knowing I could stay with them. I regretted not going with them.

I then hit the open road unprotected by houses or trees; just open fields. The winds were howling. At times they were incredibly loud and other times there was an eerie silence.
Down the road, a gust hit me and almost caused me to crash. I fought with both hands to steer and although I stayed upright, I had been blown across both lanes of the country road. Had another car been passing me, or another one been coming from the opposite direction, I would have been in a crash with an automobile. It was scary that I could not steer the bike in a straight line. Nor could I hear cars coming because the winds were howling so loud.

This was stupid riding. I guess it took me to realize that it was stupid to know that it was unsafe. And it was very unsafe. At that point, I decided I had to turn around.

I was determined to retrace some of my route but also to follow road signs for the shortest way back to the start. And then I discovered why my three friends were going slow even with a tailwind. They couldn’t hold their bikes in a straight line. I thought a tailwind was a reward for fighting the wind but today it was no reward. Today it was a menace.

In a year in which all my rides thus far went a minimum of 16 miles, I had to cut this off at 11 for which I was thankful. I was smart enough to park the bike knowing I can ride another day.

Now stupid riding was yesterday. Bob Ryan (NBC meteorologist) had forecast a high of 70° and I came prepared for 70°. It never got out of the 50s and I headed out for a ride in the pouring rain. Stupid.

I went around Hains Point and was soaked. What was the point? I hadn’t done a ride all year less than 16 miles and riding in the cold rain became a matter of pride. I couldn’t let this be the shortest ride of the year. So I suffered on. Yesterday was stupid.

Today — today was simply unsafe. It is why it was the shortest ride of the year although in a few days when I start evening rides I will go shorter.

This area is beautiful. I would like to return some other day but without these winter winds.

EDIT/EPILOGUE – This was my first day riding, or attempting to ride, at the Velodrome in Trexlertown. Cancer sucks but it has also giving me lots of opportunities and friendships that I otherwise would not have had. One of those has been an annual trip to Trexlertown with Spokes of Hope. I would come back to the Velodrome late each summer and have a chance to ride on the track as well as a Saturday morning group ride to Topton and back.