Bryan Caporuscio - peaceonabike

July 21, 2019August 22, 2020

MS-150

HOLLIDAYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

Friday was check-in. I biked the four miles between my hotel and the check-in site and there was informed that Saturday’s route would be changed. We were told that because of the heat that the ride would conclude at the lunch stop at Camp Kanesatake. From there the riders and their bikes would be transported to Penn State.

Ugh.

I ride in heat. I live in Virginia. I rode in Texas. Bring it on! I was very disappointed. This route change would also impact which bike I rode. I had my Trek Pilot (2006) with me and decided that would be a better choice than my Domane (2014) if it was going in a truck.

On Saturday I arrived at Hollidaysburg Senior High School and went looking for the write-on bibs. This is very important to me to be able to write and wear “I Ride For my Daughter.” For the second time in three years, there were none to be had. This was more disappointing than the route change.

We rolled out at 7:00 a.m. We largely stayed in a group. I missed my friends from Rooster Racing where we were comfortable riding in twos closely following the wheel in front of us. This group was very sketchy. There were riders in the “left lane” basically hugging the double yellow line. One had to pass into oncoming traffic or pass on the right. But the kicker was a woman (Bib 111) who while descending in a group sat on her top tube, in the Super Tuck position. This is very unsafe and I immediately backed way off then passed her never to see her again.

I fell in with three brothers from Pittsburgh. We stayed together until the Ritchey’s Dairy rest stop (MP 17) and that was it working with other riders for the weekend. It was solo the next 133 miles. (They were good riders. I just didn’t impose myself waiting to ride with them after the first rest stop.)

In Martinsburg, I turned back to take a photo of a mural on a building. I figured if we were stopping short I would take my time. Heck, I might even be last to the lunch stop. Once on the road, I saw Lock Mountain Road. I turned and decided to ride up the road. But it went nowhere. Well, it went somewhere but not where I expected. I checked Maps on my phone and was very confused. And when confused just turn around. Only later did I figure out I wanted Locke Mountain Road. That damn E. Still I got some bonus miles.

Lunch stop with finishing arch in the background

Maybe the cool kids (or fast ones) were all in front of me. I was not passed from Williamsburg to the lunch stop. At lunch, I saw Bryan Caporuscio from Spokes N Skis. I asked him what the real deal was as I had seen some riders continue on. He said one could ride unsupported which I decided to do. A volunteer recorded my number and I set off.

I had been talking to two men and a woman. They took off about a minute before me but as I rode I could see them up the road. I figured I’d pass them but saw they dropped the woman. I think she was the wife of one. Ouch. I passed her too. After a few miles, I had the thought that we were riding unsupported and no one should ride alone. Later I did learn there was a skeleton crew of support still on the road.. I turned back until I caught her and told her we were unsupported and no one should ride alone. Except at that moment, the rear derailleur cable broke. I was stuck in my biggest gear.

I started to pedal away from her and saw her two friends were waiting for her. I would never see them again. Riding became alternating standing and sitting. I felt I was stronger and faster because I had to use a bigger gear, that is, I didn’t have any bailout low gears. It would also tire me out.

The famous Cookie Stop was still in place although we were told it wouldn’t be. One HAM radio operator offered to call a SAG but I said I would soldier on. The hills ahead were rolling but I would have been out of luck on the hills of U.S. Rte. 22. I pushed the gear as hard as I could but had to walk right out of the rest stop and on Airport Road. I was sure I would be swept up (passed) by other riders but never was. I am thinking my speed was up while I was pedaling. Or maybe everyone else was suffering.

The warning was late in the day, 3:15 p.m. When I finished it was 84°.

Arriving Penn State I went right to the Spokes N Skis repair tent. Troy told me he had passed me and thought “that guy doesn’t know how to ride a bike – he is in much too big of gear.” Then he said, “Now it makes sense.” A $4 cable repair and I was fixed and ready for Sunday.

Dinner featured two young mothers with MS. Jennifer (sorry I didn’t get your last name) spoke about what it was to be living with MS. Diane Kramer, a nurse from State College, spoke about how Bike MS makes a difference. She gets treatment at the MS Center at Johns Hopkins and she stated that 15 years earlier her doctor’s medical education was paid for by the National MS Society. We make a difference.

Diane Kramer (Source: Diane Kramer’s Facebook)

Oh boy. At 3:45 a.m. an alarm went off in the building. We were all required to go outside until it was cleared, about 30 minutes later. It was a short night. After breakfast, I got my bike from the storage room. At 6:55 I wondered why there were only 5-10 riders in line waiting for the start. Then I saw volunteers telling riders to go anytime.

With a second day of heat and humidity, starting the ride early made perfect sense. Unfortunately, if that was communicated it did not get to me. I would have rolled out at 4:15 a.m., right after the fire alarm.

Start in State College – Where is Everybody?

The organization said there would be buses at Camp Kanesatake as well as lunch. The problem was this was less than 30 miles into the ride and arriving before 9:00 a.m., I imagine they did not find many people eating lunch. I did have some ice cream, served by the Huntington County Dairy Princess(es).

It was a day to ride (and not be on a bus). It got hotter as the day progressed but the stops were staged appropriately. My only response to the heat would have been to put a water-only stop in between each rest stop. That is why I am not an event director.

Trek Pilot 5.0 and some old tractor — Near State College

July 21, 2018August 25, 2020

MS-150

STATE COLLEGE, PENNSYLVANIA

A Tale of Five Segments

First, they had plenty of bibs “I Ride For…” at the start. I had made one ahead of time for Bethany and added one for Kristi Wallace and Kayla Bracken. I was the only one I saw wearing a bib and no one asked me about my daughter from seeing it.

SEGMENT ONE – Hollidaysburg to Roaring Spring (19 miles)

I rolled out in the front group. I don’t know if it was the first 100 (ish) or the entire ride. I settled in and we dropped some slow riders but were going at a steady pace. Each time the group was splitting, usually on a hill, I was able to stay with the front group.

Two riders wearing kits from Spokes and Skis (a sponsor) joined us. I recognized one as Bryan Caporuscio, the owner. It was six years ago I jumped into their group ride and when I asked “Bryan?” he said “Barry!” He had remembered me from that one brief half-ride. I knew that he and his friend, Jeff, would be looking to hammer it today. They moved towards the front but I stayed with them until they caused a split. I was too far back to try to bridge, nor was I up to the effort it would take.

I did find myself at the front of the main group and stayed there until finding a train station in Roaring Spring. It is a ride, not a race, and I went off the front then stopped and grabbed my photo. I was happy I stayed with the group all the way to the first stop until the photo.

My train station photo in Roaring Spring

SEGMENT TWO – Roaring Spring to Williamsburg (15 miles)

I rolled out alone (I rolled out of every stop alone today except for the mass start) and caught seven riders in Martinsburg. I sat on the back for a while. It appeared three (wearing yellow/white) were working and four (wearing blue and black and green) were getting a free ride.

I moved to the front and helped work. In fact, I was afraid I rode them off my wheel but after two miles I discovered they were with me. So now there were four of us. I took my turn until, a photo. Again, I went off the front, exited safely, and went back for the picture.

Martinsburg, Pa. – The blue jerseys are from OMBO – Old Men on Bikes

Back on the road a group (with momentum) passed me. I joined them, eventually went to the front and dropped them. Damn me.

SEGMENT THREE – Williamsburg to Camp Kanesatake (17 miles)

I rolled out alone. The yellow/white group had grown and looked like they were ready to roll. I decided to soft pedal until they caught me then I would join them. They went by and it appeared there were 15 of them plus about five others. I jumped in.

We got blown apart on the first big climb, and I stayed with their three leaders. I found they were not a friendly bunch, at least to this stranger, I eventually let them go and the remnants of their original group came by. I jumped in. I moved to the front to Camp Kanesatake for lunch.

Lunch was at the camp. I got the feeling I was the only one on the ride that wasn’t riding with a friend or partner. I sat with some volunteers. A couple of the white/yellow group had rolled out and when lunch was over, I took off.

Camp Kanesatake is a Christian church camp located in Spruce Creek, Pa.

SEGMENT FOUR – Camp Kanesatake to the famous Cookie Stop (14 miles)

I cleaned up my trash and looked around. It did not appear anyone was leaving that I could join so I took off. My plan was to soft pedal until the group caught me then join them. Here is where two competing aspects of my brain kicked in.

Logical Brain: Soft pedal and they will catch you and you can ride with them

Macho Brain: Don’t let them catch you. You are better than them.

Logical Brain: Let them catch you – you can save 30% of your energy by sitting in the group instead of riding alone

Macho Brain: Don’t you dare let them catch you. Hammer it!

Macho Brain won. Sigh. It’s a struggle I often have.

It was 15 miles and I did not want to get caught. In fact, I ended up catching two riders who had left about five minutes before me. And then was able to enjoy the famous cookie stop. (Truth: I had one chocolate chip cookie given to me by a young girl whose mother had baked it.)

The traditional cookie stop, the parishioners are all in at Halfmoom Christian Fellowship Church, Port Matilda, Pa.

SEGMENT FIVE – Cookie stop to State College (13 miles)

I stopped to talk to the volunteers at the entrance/exit and the four young kids. I left the message with the kids to always wear a helmet when they ride. In the meantime, a group of five or six guys took off. They were one minute up the road.

I thought about going full in to try to catch their group but decided to ride my own pace. Their group dropped two (blue riders) and I had them in sight. For a couple of miles I could see I was 35 seconds behind. And then it came down quickly. Twenty seconds. Ten seconds. And a catch. I joined them, stayed with them for about a minute, then went to the front to work. I dropped them. Rode solo to the Penn Stater.

I beat the rain although it doesn’t look I will be so fortunate tomorrow. This was my longest ride of the year, derailed first by knee replacement and then by a memory-loss crash and concussion. So I am happy. Very happy.

September 6, 2009July 28, 2021

Last Day in the Mountains

My early season riding began with a climb to the top of Blue Knob Ski Resort and included back-to-back weekends in August climbing Horseshoe Curve’s 18% “wall.” It is simply one of my favorite places to ride. But my cancer diagnosis made these mountains even more special. It was here where I could get away from cancer and find peace on my bike.

With Fall approaching and my season hitting the “wall” quicker than when climbing it, I took the opportunity to go to East Freedom, Pa. for one last ride in the mountains as I fully fight this cancer battle.

My ride took me up Pa. Rte 164 to the crossroads at Blue Knob. This was a seven-mile climb with long sections of 8% grade. It is a two-lane road with no shoulder but not heavily traveled either. And every single car gave me a wide berth when passing.

At the summit, I found a taste of New York. Their very own Statue of Liberty. Who knew?

I spotted a sign — “14% grade (next) 7 miles.” It was heaven! Nowhere can I find an equivalent grade to Mount Washington — 7.6 miles at 12% average. But this held promise. At last, a training ground for Mount Washington.

I braced for my descent because 14% can be quite dangerous on a bike. But it wasn’t to be. By my calculation, there may have been a section that was 10% but it didn’t last long. And it soon flattened out. Who makes these road signs anyhow? It was just a tease.

Also by my calculation, and my gut feel on the bike, from Blue Knob to Puzzletown was 4.5 miles at a 5% grade.

From Puzzletown (can anyone figure out what they do there?) I traveled Valley Forge Road and found a sign for a 12% downgrade was close to an actual 12% which led to a 12% climb. Or more. But only for a mile down and a mile back up.

Reaching Old U.S. 22 I had a 5½ mile climb to the summit. For much of the climb, there were two lanes upward, divided, which meant that cars could easily move to the left lane to avoid getting too close to me. I rode on the right side of the white line but for a long stretch, there was very little shoulder. Yet more often than not cars gave me no berth and two idiots honked their horns at me like there was somewhere I could go. Into the woods, perhaps.

For about 30 minutes my mind was playing games trying to analyze why most drivers on a two-lane road would give me wide berth and cross into the oncoming lane and these drivers wouldn’t move over to the empty lane that was going in the same direction. Old US 22 would be used mostly by locals — locals who may believe it was faster and should remain faster than getting on the new US 22. Locals who believe the road belongs just to them. I just don’t know. Maybe people are jerks. A revelation.

I never visited the Allegheny Portage Railroad Historic Site and always wanted to. And today I could. I am always intrigued by old-time engineering marvels and this was one of them.

Allegheny Portage Railroad – Lemon House

Operating from 1834 to 1854 it was built to carry barges from Johnstown to Hollidaysburg which connected river traffic between the Ohio and Susquehanna Rivers. It consisted of 10 inclined planes (think of the Inclined Plane in Johnstown or the Duquesne or Monongahela inclines in Pittsburgh).

Allegheny Portage Railroad – Incline Number 6

At the summit I was looking for a road over to Gallitzin but never found one. I saw a truck with U.S. Government Plates and stopped it and asked for directions to Tunnelhill. When I balked at the park ranger’s first suggestion, riding on U.S. 22, she told me to cut through the Allegheny Portage Railroad Park. Even though it was gated, she assured me that I could and I was surprised at the site and delighted in that it did take me to Tunnelhill Street.

I was glad I did. I would have never seen the Lemon house, other than from the road, or the tracks of Incline Number 6.

In Gallitzin, I met a local who encouraged me to go to the Gallitzin tunnels. He didn’t tell me the road to them was straight down. But it was. One can stand on a bridge and see the trains coming through the mountain. I wonder what’s it’s like to live above the tunnel?

The climb back up to Tunnelhill Street was a neat 14-16% grade. But at 27 miles, that would be the last real climbing of the day.

From Gallitzin, it was a straight shot down Horseshoe Curve Road (Glenwhite Road) past the famous landmark and three reservoirs.

I’m not complaining because every ride up Horseshoe Curve is a good ride but who the heck thought of a process called chip and tar? The descent down to Horseshoe Curve can be screaming, especially when coming down off The Wall but the upper portion of this road had recently been chipped. Or tarred. Maybe just chipped. Without tar.

A 4-mile climb to the summit, sections of 18% grade and a 200′ tunnel. Life doesn’t get any better than this.

There were no line markings. Descending was tricky because with the loose gravel, er, I mean “chips,” one could easily slide out. Once I got to the good pavement I could let it roll.

Because of mine drainage, there are channels to keep the acid water out of the reservoirs

The rest of the ride was simple exploring as was all but the Gallitzin to Horseshoe Curve portion. I wrote down some simple directions and followed those but was unsure when I was in Hollidaysburg where I should travel to next. There was a service station with a store and I needed to replenish my water.

I walked into the convenience store and it reeked of cigarette smoke. All I could see was shelves of cigarettes and chewing tobacco. I turned to the sales clerk and asked “do you sell anything healthy in here?” I’m a jerk.

When she asked what I meant I simply asked for water. Outside was a visibly pregnant mother smoking, waiting with the dog while her husband bought more cigarettes. I wanted to scream at her “GIVE YOUR CHILD A CHANCE!” But would good would have it done? I am reminded that this is still Appalachia and a cyclist with shaved legs wearing Lycra is the stranger here.

Actually a very steep portion of Glenwhite Road

I will miss riding in Altoona. Each of my trips involved meeting special people. On the first, I met John Griffin who lives in a house where I lived 50 years ago. He invited me in. On the second and third I met and rode with riders from Spo kes and Skis — Joel, Richard, Bryan, and Stacey. Also there was Stephanie from Panera. And today I had a park employee let me cut through the park, a local send me to the tunnels, and two others point me in the right direction when I was unsure. Really unsure.

I’m afraid this is the end for a while. I have hit the wall.