Scott Scudamore - peaceonabike

September 24, 2020September 26, 2020

Horseshoe Curve – My Happy Place

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

In early 2008 Bicycling magazine published an article about the toughest climbs in each state. Maybe not the toughest but most iconic in each state. For Pennsylvania, Horseshoe Curve was listed with a description of a “Three lakes, a 200′ tunnel and an 18% wall, what could be better?”

It was then I knew I had to ride it. And it has become my go-to ride. My happy place. So let me tell you in my words what is so special here.

I first came here after I read the description. And I keep coming back.

I call the climb Horseshoe Curve. Technically, I suppose, Horseshoe Curve is really the engineering marvel completed in 1854 which got trains over the Allegheny Mountains. The New York Central could run a train from New York to Chicago in 16 hours but it took four days to travel between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh using canals, horses, train cars, and the Allegheny Portage Railroad. One can read about the history anywhere, I will link to an article at Uncovering PA.

Typically, I park at the Logan Valley Mall to begin a ride. Although gradual, one begins climbing the minutes you push down on the first pedal. It’s about 2.5 miles up 58th Street to Kittanning Point Road. Make a left here and it’s an easy three more miles to the Curve.

Canal diverting mine water – May 5, 2018

If you are lucky, there will be a passing train or two and you can hear the clickety-clack clickety-clack of the train. If it is climbing you can race it although eventually, the sound will pull away.

You will pass three lakes – all reservoirs with the Altoona Water System. The first is Lake Altoona, the largest and prettiest of the three. The second is the Kittanning Reservoir. The third is at the Curve itself. It is smaller than the first two and I’m not sure that it is named.

The water in these lakes is pristine. But that is because of a unique water-diversion system. There is a lot of mine drainage in the area marked by the bright orange color of the acid water. There is a canal next to the lakes which carries this water safely past the lakes. I do not know where the orange water goes after bypassing Altoona’s water supply.

The canal the diverts water past Lake Altoona Reservoir

These three miles (3.2) are pretty easy. Yes, one is climbing but a lot of it is flat beside one of the three lakes. I calculate this portion to be 1.9% grade.

At the Curve itself are the attractions. The Curve itself is the main attraction. This is a pay-attraction area. As of 2020, admission was $8 but one would need to check to be certain. At the Curve, one can climb 194 steps or take a funicular (Inclined plane) to reach the viewing platform. I come here to ride a bike and not watch trains so I cannot comment any further about the Curve.

For years the Curve was covered in heavy forest. Around 2018 they cut down acres of trees which was both disappointing but also pretty cool. Now as you approach the Curve you can see the trains on the tracks. And the passengers on the Pennsylvanian (Amtrak, twice daily) surely must enjoy the view.

Traffic on Kittanning Point Road to the Curve is generally light and always courteous. In the three miles to the Curve one might get passed by 5-6 cars. Most of the traffic seems to be going to visit the Curve.

And then the fun begins. There is a 200-foot tunnel that goes under the Curve. Look carefully because there are two tunnels. One is for car traffic and the second is for water – that disgusting orange mine water that bypasses the drinking supply.

Go through the tunnel and everything changes. First, the road turns up. Second, one is in a deep forest. Nothing to see but trees and water of the Glenwhite Run. It is absolutely beautiful here. (And I typically do not have photos from this area as I don’t want to stop then have to restart.)

The legs may slow down as the body notices, even if the eyes do not, it is getting harder to pedal. By my calculation, it is 3.3 miles from the tunnel to Coupon-Gallitzin Road. And the grade works out to be 5.3% which doesn’t sound like much. But that also includes a downhill section near the top.

There is a half-mile section that averages more than 12%. The “Wall” is 18% or 19%. Two things always happen when I go up this road. First, I always battle myself and wonder if this will be the first time I have to get off and push my bike. And second, there is an immense feeling of satisfaction and pride from having made it.

I am almost always alone on this stretch. Traffic is light – often only 1-2 cars will come up the road. Today, there was a logging truck followed closely by a car. And that was it.

I’ve had my moments with others too. In 2009, I met Richard and Stacey Fiore riding up the road. Stacey had never made it before without walking and I sent her husband up the road while I rode with and encouraged her. I thought we had it but she dismounted only about 50′ from the top of the Wall.

For my first post-cancer ride in 2010, I brought some friends here from Northern Virginia. None was more special than my good friend, Scott Scudamore. I am sure glad he got to experience this climb and we had a blast twice bombing the descent on Sugar Run Road.

Kelley Vito said she understood why I find peace here because “you only think about dying while climbing that hill.” In 2017, I was with Chey Hillsgrove and Chelsea Johnson. Chelsea would see a curve ahead and then ask – “Oh my God, is that where it begins?!” I laughed and told her the truth – “Oh no, that’s not the Wall – the Wall is much worse.”

I would have bet against Chelsea that day but she found her inner strength and made it. I was so proud of her.

The third reservoir – at the Curve itself

But Kelley was right. When I come to these mountains, all I can think about is the next pedal stroke. Pushing up that hill. Or descending at crazy fun speeds but 100% focus on the descent. There is no time for cancer in my life when I am in these mountains and on this climb.

I was feeling quite down this morning. And I looked on my bike and the stem cap says “I am a Survivor – 10 Years.” And my bad feelings went away. Let’s enjoy this day!

I didn’t have any segments starred in Strava so none displayed as I was riding. But at the end of the ride, I saw I was averaging more than a 15 mph pace. And I don’t think I ever did a ride with this climb that I averaged 15 mph.

I looked at Strava. I averaged 15.4 mph. And I had PRs on all the segments. Most of those I am #1 in my age group as well. Although my times are nowhere near the best times – I can’t compete with the young guns. But in competing against myself (PRs) and in my age group, I did pretty well.

My earliest rides were not recorded. The first record ride I can find of Horseshoe Curve was August 2, 2009. I had lost a lot of weight prior to my cancer diagnosis. In addition, I was “training” for the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb. And on the same route as today, I averaged 14.2 mph. Of course I was 11 years YOUNGER!

For one day, I felt strong(er) in the mountains. My times pale in comparison to the young riders but I was better today than 11 years ago. And only in the last five years have my rides been uploaded to Strava for those comparisons – and I broke every personal record there too. On a heavy gravel bile.

This mountain is where I come to get away. And this is where I find peace on a bike.

Distance: 20.4 miles
Average: 15.4 mph
Max Speed: 41.8 mph
Weight: 179

May 16, 2016September 1, 2021

My Ride For Dad

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

We got devastating news this morning. Meeting with team doctors from Conemaugh Hospital, they broke the news to us that my dad, who fell three weeks ago, had a 5% chance of walking again. It was a punch in the gut.

As we were left to process this I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather. It was in the high 50s, a bit on the cool side, but a sunny day. After seemingly weeks of rain, it was a welcome change.

I pulled into a Sheetz parking lot. I bought a water then asked the manager if I could park for 90 minutes and go for a ride. She said “of course” and told me she remembered me from last year.

May16_09 — Manager (in black) who helped me out

This is my go-to route. My happy place. I first rode it seven years ago as my escape from battling cancer. It was the one challenge that could take my mind of cancer.

The ride is gorgeous. Three lakes, a 200-foot tunnel, then a 4-mile climb with an 18% wall that continues for half a mile. What a great ride.

May16_03 — Blue lake and orange mine drain water. They don’t mix.

I approached Horseshoe Curve and something was missing. Trees. They had clear-cut the area around the curve. It was disappointing. I went inside the gift shop at Horseshoe Curve. I asked about the clear-cutting and the young woman inside told me they had a grant to remove all the trees. She mentioned Norfolk-Southern but I didn’t pick up if the railroad drove the removal or not. It was hard to see the trains passing through before the trees were cut.

May16_04 — Lake 3. Horseshoe Curve in background. Clear cut.

I went through the tunnel and the climb began in earnest. I had come to escape the thoughts of my dad not walking but it didn’t work. There was a strong wind in my face before the tunnel and all I could think of was my dad. Wind in your face is nothing to curse but to praise. What I would give so that he could have the wind in his face.

I started the climb. I brought the wrong bike. My other bike is geared better for climbing steep climbs. But I said I could do this.

May16_06 — Horseshoe Curve and some mine water drainage

I went up the climb, legs burning, just hoping my dad could feel pain in his legs. That maybe my pain could help his. He was on my mind all the way up the climb.

At the summit, I rode over to Tunnel Hill. I looked and thought the time was already one hour in and I was halfway done. No way I would be back in 90 minutes total.

May16_08 — The Wall. Much steeper than it looks.

I started down Sugar Run Road. I thought of my post-cancer ride with Scott Scudamore and how we bombed this descent. Twice. I was hitting 45 mph. There were some crosswinds. But it was a great ride back down the mountain.

I did get back in less than 90 minutes. My go-to ride was nice but it did not get me thinking less about my dad. The reality set in that our ride in October was probably our last ride together.

September 20, 2015February 17, 2016

Scaring the Amish

HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA

Since its inception, the Jeremiah Bishop Alpine Gran Fondo has been a staple of my cycling season. The reason is because it supports fighting prostate cancer. Since being introduced by my late friend, Scott Scudamore, I have also become friends with Jeremiah and Erin Bishop, plus Robert Hess of the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project.

GF10

There was one problem this year. The world championships of professional cycling were being held in Richmond. This was the first time in 30 years the “Worlds” were here. Today was the only day to see the “trade” teams, Garmin, BMC, etc., in the team time trial. I wanted to do both.

GF1

I knew I could not do 100 miles and get to Richmond so I signed up for the “Valley View Challenge.” I know Erin was surprised when she saw my application but I explained that I was going to Richmond and wanted to support their ride. She understood.

GF2

We rolled out of town and I was at the front. As the peleton rolled on I was comfortably in the pack but new there was a turn coming up eventually. I pulled over, took some photos, then jumped back in the group and rode up to the turn.

GF3

I was on the road by myself then sat up and saw a rider from UVA coming. He joined me and we rolled to the first, and only rest stop. After a while we rolled out with a third. We were clearly in front when we came upon a young Amish couple on their bikes going to church. While Matthew and Luca* rode ahead, I slowed down to talk to the couple.

GF4

They were very personable. I introduced myself and they told me they were Keith and Julie Zimmerman and their young son. Somehow I happen to mention the Wenger name and Julie looked at me and said “that’s my maiden name.”

GF6

We came to a turn. The Fondo route was to the left. Keith and Julie turned right. I turned right with them. Matthew and Luca were up ahead and looked back and saw me going the other way. They turned around to follow me. One mile later we were at the church and I bid Keith and Julie a good day.

GF5

Matt and Luca weren’t sure where they were going and I laughed. “Well, you were going right until you decided to follow me.” I told them we would go exploring.

GF7

We went into Dayton and then did some trailblazing, getting back to Harrisonburg. We were first on the day.

GF8

It wasn’t the classic Grand Fondo right but it was just right. I spent a little time with Robert and Julie before heading on to Richmond for Worlds. And I thought how lucky I was to choose the short route on this day or I wouldn’t have been able to meet, and well, scare, the Amish.

When I got home, I contacted my 5th cousin, Daniel Wenger, who is the preeminent Wenger historian. I pieced together my information with what he knew and quickly proved she was a descendant of Christian Wenger (b. 1698). In Lancaster Co., Pa., we have two known Wenger lines. The other is Hans Wenger (1705), which is my line. It is presumed they are related, perhaps as close as first cousins, but no historian has been able to document that. DNA shows the lines are connected but we can’t yet say that we’re 5th cousins. Definitely my Amish cousins in name. I’m claiming them!

____
*Not their real names.

January 7, 2014July 23, 2015

Superman

First Batman, now Superman.

We are different from other living creatures because at an early age we
understand there is a beginning and an end, that we will all die. I am
not of an age that I think about it (much) but the last week has made me
face it a lot. When you lose a close friend close in age that will
happen.

Scott Scudamore loved life. He was the life of the party and
where there was anyone and Scott there was a party. When I heard the
news on Sept. 23 that he was on life support I had a hard time accepting
that. But over three months we saw, I saw, that smile. And at Kessler
he told me that he was lucky because he didn’t have brain damage. The
entire time I believed that he would beat this in some way.

Kessler Institute for Rehabilitation
West Orange, NJ

We
looked for signs of movement returning. We were all excited the day Scott moved his thumb. But we never saw anything more. And if he were confined
to that wheelchair with no movement below his neck I knew that he would
somehow make a difference in other people’s life in his new condition.

He was Superman. He was the guy we kiddingly said we all aspired to be.
But I never wanted to be like Scott and I doubt that anyone else did
either. For Scott was unique. There was room for only one Scott.

At the start line with the kids from the
Boys and Girls Club, Sept. 15

And confession time: I never called him Scud and I never ate a Scudfry
(although they may not exist in the singular – just the plural,
Scudfries). He was always Scott to me.

Scott would call me at the
strangest times. “Barry Sherry,” accenting each syllable equally, “How
the heck are you?” And I’d ask “Where in the heck are you?” Traveling
between events, skiing in Colorado, visiting his daughter, Krista, in San Diego, or in
the living room with Jeremiah and Erin Bishop, he was always planning
our next adventure.

Scott was a legend in the mountain bike world.
And I am not a mountain biker. But he made time for me. He dragged my
butt to Iowa for RAGBRAI two years ago. He came with me to Altoona for a
cancer recovery ride. He invited me to ride with him and the kids from
the Boys and Girls Club in Charlottesville in August. And he supported
every one of my many cancer-fighting charity rides.

Barry, Eli, Scott
August 29, 2013

Scott was a
proud husband, father and grandfather. He worried about the health of his wife, “St. Margaret,” also a cancer survivor. He was proud of his daughter,
Jen and her husband, Carl, and their two kids. He always let me know
what Kyle and Marie were doing. And he was proud of his daughter,
Krista, making a career of serving in the U.S. Navy.

Sweating in Altoona
April 2010

Scott didn’t
just (re)learn to talk when he went to Kessler — that blinking stuff was for
the birds after all — he SANG. When I saw him and asked about his voice he
said it was so strong he could sing and he BELTED out LA LA LA LA LA LA
LA going up then down the scales. Everyone who could look did and he
was grinning from ear to ear. That was Scott.

If anyone could
beat this injury, it was Scott. Yet, looking back, even the few hours I
was with Scott, I saw the optimism one needs to overcome the injuries
but also the frustration and disappointment. The physical therapist
moved his shoulders and asked him if he could feel that. He smiled and
said yes. And then realization set in as he realized that he did not
feel his shoulders move. And the frustration and maybe even anger at
being trapped in this body, Superman’s body, that didn’t work.

Altoona ride, April 2009

It shocked me, and probably most of Scott’s friends, because we saw, we
believed, the ever smiling Scott would beat this. But unless you had a
personal visit and saw the downs as well as the ups, you wouldn’t know
any better.

Then there was “the bike.” Whether it was designed
for Christopher Reeve (that other Superman) or he just used it at
Kessler, I do not recall. But even with limbs not working Scott’s rehab
equipment of choice was the bike. His feet would be strapped to the
pedals and a motor would move his legs. The therapist explained that
with his blood pressure “all over the place” they could not risk putting
him on this machine. And he was quite dejected.

I showed him
the picture with me and Kyle’s soccer team, all wearing their new Scud’s
Courage jerseys. He proudly told his physical therapists how Kyle’s
team got special permission from the club to wear those and “they’re
going to wear them next year too.” Such a proud grandfather.

Kyle’s team honoring “Scud’s Courage”
Kyle is next to me, my hand on his shoulder

When I told Jen that story today she said “sounds like Dad made that part up.”

Still, I left Kessler remembering the smile. The proud grandfather. The
promise I made that I would be back to visit and that when he went home
I would come stay and visit.

I forgot that during my time
visiting that he had some down moments. He was someone you would
remember the good times. And, in my case, ignore the signs that all was
not well.

When I had arrived for my visit, Margaret and I talked
and she told me that she almost asked me not to come because of Scott’s
ups and downs. But Scott had vetoed that idea because he wanted me to
come. However, just two weeks ago she did ask me not to come because he
needed his rest.

Superman
Picture from TrailsForYouth.org

The signs were there for me to see but this was Superman. I ignored them.

This video is from the tribute Scott’s
colleagues at the Lake Monticello Rescue Squad
gave him at his funeral.

If there was one person to beat this horrific injury it was Scott. But
in the end it was too much even for him. All of a sudden you realize
that we don’t live forever. If death can snatch someone so energetic and
vibrant, and in reality he was a cross between Superman and the
Energizer Bunny, then I am left to realize that it will catch us all.
It’s something we don’t like to think about but it is real.

A great man. A great friend. He will be sorely missed but his memory and his legend lives on.

Maybe Jen was right and her dad made up the part about Kyle’s team
wearing those jerseys next year. But as Director of Referees for his
soccer club, I talked to the administrator today and told them Scott’s
story.

They will be wearing those uniforms in the spring.

Superman lives on.

January 1, 2014January 6, 2022

Reflections on the Year – 2013

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

It was a year in which I once rode 109 straight days (a “ride” being defined as one of at least 10 miles), including breaking my collarbone only 10 days into the streak. And I didn’t miss a ride. For the second straight year I went over 10,000 kilometers (6,200 miles). I finished with 6,350. But the year would end with incredible sadness.

In no particular order I present my Top Ten Moments of 2013

1. Meeting People on the Trail

I met two groups of young people while riding along the W&OD. In May I
met a lost group from the University of Illinois, the Illini 4,000. I rode
with them to Vienna before saying goodbye.

Riders from the Illini 4,000

In July I met a group of young Orthodox Jewish women biking from Miami to New York City
with Bike 4 Friendship. When they told me they were riding to Baltimore
on U.S. Rte 1 I told them I would take them on safe roads instead. I ended up giving them an impromptu tour of D.C. then taking them through the Anacostia Trail System up to Laurel, Maryland so they could
avoid Rte 1.

Some of the Bike 4 Friendship Riders
in Front of the White House

Shaina Myers

2. Ride of Silence

I never participated in a Ride of Silence before and don’t want to again but I organized one for a fallen cyclist, James Callahan,
who was struck and killed by a 17 year old girl while he was riding on
the bike path next to the road. I had never met Mr. Callahan but it
seemed the right thing to do. Almost 40 riders including his family
members joined us for a silent slow 13-mile ride that honored his
memory.

Stopped at the accident scene where
a bagpiper played Amazing Grace

3. Trexlertown

Labor
Day weekend I joined friends from Spokes of Hope at Trexlertown, Pa. to
ride on the Velodrome as we honored pediatric cancer survivors. Our
featured survivor was Duncan Mitcheltree. As I entered the track his mother, Andrea, called my name. We had met last year at Jake’s funeral.

Barry, Duncan

4. Key to Keys

(Multiple Journal Entries)

In April I rode with the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adult’s inaugural Key to Keys
ride, a fundraiser from Baltimore to Key West. There’s nothing like the
community of survivors and people who hate cancer who come together
with a common cause. And when my group did not get a chance to ride across the
Seven Mile Bridge, on Sunday after the ride I did my own solo century ride
to and across the Seven Mile Bridge – twice.

5. Salisbury Trestle

My
dad had never ridden across the Salisbury trestle at Meyersdale so in
July my sister, Betsy, and I rode with the octogenarian from Meyersdale
to Rockwood.

Barry, Betsy, Dad
At the Rockwood Entrance

6. Mount Washington

I thought last year would be my last time up Mount Washington. Then I met the Gubinski family and they asked me to come back and ride with them so they would have someone to beat. And I complied. My sixth straight year on that climb.

Alexa, Barry, Vic, Lucas

7. 4K for Cancer

An organization that has become close to my heart is the 4K for Cancer.
I rode with Team San Francisco on Day 1 from Baltimore to Alexandria; met
Team Portland on the Pike to Bike abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike on Day 2;
escorted them from Bedford to Ligonier on Day 3; and rode with them again in
Muncie, Indiana on Day 17.

4K on Allegheny Mountain at former Ship Hotel

8. Jeremiah Bishop’s Alpine Gran Fondo

Jeremiah
Bishop’s Alpine Gran Fondo is a beautiful ride and is sponsored by the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. As a prostate cancer survivor I was
invited to ride off the front with pros, Jeremiah Bishop, Joe Dombrowski, Cameron Cogburn and Ben King.

Pros on the Start Line

9. Ride the Rockies

(Multiple Journal Entries)

Ride the Rockies is simply the best multi-day tour I have found. Awesome vistas with screaming descents – four times I went over 50 mph. I rode with six time Tour de France rider, Ron Kiefel, and met George Hincapie, Bob Roll, and Connie Carpenter-Phinney.

Ron Keifel, Barry Sherry

10. Save a Limb Ride

A man grabs my phone as I am looking at Jens Voigt and Ben King and says “jump in – I’ll take your picture.” And it was none other than Robbie Ventura. At the Save a Limb ride I met Jens, Ben, and Robbie. Too cool.

Jen Voigt, Barry, Ben King

Barry, Robbie Ventura

In Memory of Scott

In August, my friend, Scott Scudamore, invited
me to Charlottesville for a practice ride with some kids from the Boys and Girls Club. They were getting in training miles to ride a Century (100 miles) in September and he promised me we would ride up Afton Mountain which “you will really enjoy.”

When the assignments were given out Scott was very apologetic because he was asked to mentor the youngest
rider on a shorter route than the other kids. He encouraged me to go ride with the other kids up Afton Mountain. I chose to ride with Scott. He
didn’t quite understand it was more about who you were with than where
you were going. It was my last ride with Scott.

On September 22 he was mountain biking at Bryce Ski resort in Virginia when he crashed and broke his neck. Very sadly and unexpectedly, he died from those injuries
on December 29.

Barry, Eli, Scott

You taught me that life is short and to live every moment to the fullest
May you rest in peace, my friend.

August 29, 2013August 18, 2015

Boys and Girls Club

CROZET, VIRGINIA

My good friend, Scott Scudamore, moved from Montclair to near Charlottesville a couple of years ago. We don’t get a chance to ride together much because Scott’s passion is mountain biking and mine is road. But a few weeks ago Scott asked me to come down and ride with him with the kids from the Boys and Girls Club.

The Boys & Girls Club of Charlottesville has a program to get kids on bikes. Any kid who signs up and completes the program gets to keep the bike. A pretty nice road bike. Depending on their age, they had goals all the way up to completing a century.

I arrived at Crozet, met up with Scott, and met the kids from the club. Most of the kids riding were older and Melissa asked Scott to ride with Eli, a pretty big 12-year old, on a different route from the other kids.

Scott had invited me down to ride Afton Mountain. The older kids were going with two other adults over Afton Mountain but Scott and Eli were given a 30-mile route that didn’t go over the mountain. Scott encouraged me to ride with the older kids. I chose to ride with Scott and Eli.

Eli is strong. The three of us headed out into the mountains. We had a great ride on a beautiful day. We stopped at Chiles Peach Orchard, looking for a rest room (closed) and enjoyed the aroma of the orchard.

We arrived back about the same time as the kids in the older group. There was a cooler of frozen snacks. The frozen lemonade pops were the bomb.

It was great riding with the kids, especially Eli. They will all meet their goal on September 15. I wish I could join them but have other plans that day.

EPILOGUE (October 15, 2013) – I am hoping this was not my last ride with Scott. Just one week after Scott rode with the kids on their challenge, he was mountain biking at Bryce Mountain Ski Resort. A crash broke his C1 and C2 vertebrae. As I update this he is paralyzed from the neck down.

What I remember most about August 29 was Scott was insistent that I ride with the older kids on Afton Mountain. He invited me down to ride Afton Mountain but didn’t understand that it wasn’t where you rode but who you were with. I was much more interested in riding with Scott than riding over Afton Mountain.


Scott, at the start line of the Boys and Girls Challenge, Sept. 15

Please keep Scott in your prayers and good thoughts.

April 6, 2013April 29, 2016

Stranger on the Road

CHARLOTTESVILLE, VIRGINIA

I began the day in Baltimore where we rode to Race Pace Bicycles on Key Highway. After a light breakfast of bagels we had a dedication circle on the sidewalk. I dedicated my ride to Jake The Hero Grecco.

Although the ride was billed as biking to Key West, in reality we would drive 3/4 of the way to Key West and bike one fourth of the way. We were formed into four groups with each group riding 1/4th of the day’s mileage. We rode over to the Inner Harbor where Groups 2, 3, and 4 would be transported to their starting locations. My group, Group 2 did the segment from Washington DC to Nokesville, Virginia.

Barry (L); Robert Della Vecchia (R)

We were transported by staff members Abby Ramirez and Vince Schiano. My riding group included Patti Jackson, John Beck, and Rob Keleher.

My group, Group 2, began in NE Washington, D.C. in front of a Catholic church. Two nuns came out and posed for our sendoff photo. We then followed the Metropolitan Branch Trail to Union Station, through and past the Mall and across the Memorial Bridge into Virginia.

Barry, Rob, Nun 1, Nun 2, John, Patti
Credit: Vince Schiano

On the Virginia side we rode up the Mount Vernon Trail to the Custis Trail and connected with the Washington and Old Dominion Trail out to the Virginia suburbs. In Vienna we stopped at Nottoway Park for a lunch of bagels. And peanut butter.

On the Mount Vernon Trail by the Memorial Bridge
Just out for a Saturday run

It was an uneventful but beautiful ride. It was sunny but the temperature struggled to reach 60 degrees. The day would be a day without cues because this was my domain. I have ridden every inch of this route many times and it was fun to just ride without worrying about turns.

Potomac River, Virginia side, looking at Memorial Bridge,
Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument

On the run in to Nokesville on Kettle Run Road, I caught a rider. I asked her how far she was going (a set up question to be sure) and she said “not far” or “just down this road.” Of course when she asked how far I was riding I told her “Key West” (always a good conversation starter).

Jan Roberts Stover

A brief discussion ensued. As we talked and I told her my name she told me my friends, Marty Cox and Acacia Ellis have talked about me. Small world.

John Beck on the Custis Trail
Cramping forced him to be shuttled

My team was astounded that I ran into a cyclist who knew who I was. They were astounded even more when arriving at Nokesville Park even the dog knew me. That was easily explainable since my son, Andrew, brought some items that I wanted to take with me but had forgotten. But Maggie was one that could not ride with us.

Barry, John, Rob, Patti

There’s also a story of the Gnome that traveled the world for years with Patti and somehow got smashed but that’s for Vince to tell.

Gnome. Before and After

We went to the restaurant, Positively 4th Street, in Charlottesville for dinner before driving to the hotel at Zions Crossroads.

At 11:00 p.m. I was visited by friends Scott and Margaret Scudamore for desert at the IHOP next door. At midnight it would be a late night but that was normal for me since it was the beginning of soccer season and, even on this trip, I had to burn the midnight oil to get the games assigned so the kids have refs.

September 16, 2012August 29, 2021

Oh My God – I Killed Chey

HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA

I was very pleased that Chey Hillsgrove could join me for Jeremiah Bishop’s Alpine Loop Gran Fondo Presented by the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project. Chey was Jake Grecco’s Pedal Pal and while I had met him in Baltimore before his cross country trip, I had never ridden with him. So today would be the first day.

Last night we checked in then went next door to Dave’s Downtown Taverna. By luck, we ran into Erin Bishop, the event director, who invited us to the Gala. That solved our issue of where we would eat. After the ceremonies, we met Robert Hess and his sister, Jodi, as well as Jeremiah Bishop. Robert presented me with a cycling jacket from the Prostate Cancer Foundation Project. My friend, Scott Scudamore was the emcee so we got to see him and his wife, Margaret, as well.

Today in the parking lot, my cousin, Krissy Harlan, came over from JMU to say hello. When we got called up to the line they called fundraisers followed by cancer survivors. I was the only survivor who went to the front. Strange, I thought. There are more of us.

I found myself on the front row with Ben King, racer for Radio Shack-Nissan-Trek. Ben was U.S. National road race champ in 2010. We chatted briefly and had a photo op.

As we rolled out I went just one block then pulled over waiting for Chey. As he rolled by I jumped in, moved up and caught him.

Chey was on his new Lightspeed bike and hadn’t yet been fit to it. After 18 miles as we came to the base of the first time climb, we pulled over to adjust his seat. There were probably 15-20 people at this point who had also pulled over. It appeared to be a woodsy-bathroom break too, but not for us. Although we had discussed doing the climbs at your own pace, and I thought he’d pull away from me, I pulled away from him. Chey hadn’t been on a bike since the 4K ended August 4 and his bike was stolen in Tacoma. So it was understandable enough that he had lost his bike fitness.

Last year I did this five-mile climb in 48 minutes, just riding at a comfortable pace. And I was passed early by a number of riders. Today was different. Although I was passed by one rider, I pulled back 10 riders on the climb. My time was 35:05. It’s not going to win me any prize but I love seeing the 13-minute improvement over last year. And it was rated eighth out of 18 in my age group so it was above the line.

Top of first climb, Shenandoah Mountain, Virginia-West Virginia border

At the top, I waited for Chey. Then we bombed the descent on US 33. I pulled back another 10 riders on the descent, at one point passing a motorcycle as we both cornered. I was flying. My top speed was 46.7 mph.

After the first rest stop, we came to the Medio/Gran Fondo split, off the main road and up a three-mile dirt/gravel road with 15-18% grades. Rough. Last year I, along with everyone else, walked most of the way as this section was all mud. Today it was dry and while I made it most of the way, there were two sections that had so much gravel I simply dismounted and walked for 100 yards. And I’m not ashamed.

Meadow in the gravel section in West Virginia

As I waited at the top I talked to Richard Canlas, from Texas, who made his way up. He was waiting for his buddy, Ronald “Zeke” Smith, from D.C. Zeke tried the route last year but couldn’t finish so he had his friend from Texas join him. While Richard expressed concern we might miss a cutoff point, I told him whatever happens, happens.

After Chey crossed the top we hit a dangerously steep two-mile descent then pulled into the second rest stop. The other two riders pulled in after us but rolled out one minute ahead of us. And then we were last. The last riders on the Gran Fondo course.

As we started to climb, Chey was struggling with his bike. It may have a bottom bracket issue but being set up with a 39 tooth small front ring, the bike was slowing him down. He needed a compact. Still, we rode together and could see the two riders in front of us. I went ahead and caught Zeke who by then was alone. I think minutes before he told Richard to go ahead and make the cutoff without him.

Arriving at the cutoff intersection we were told we had missed the time and would be rerouted over to the Medio climb to get us back on course. No problem. Although Zeke took off, I quickly hit the descent, passing him going 40 mph. When I got through all the sharp curves I sat up and let Zeke catch and pass me. I looked back but didn’t see Chey. At the bottom, I soft-pedaled for Chey to catch up but he didn’t. I was only three miles from the top and I stopped at the rest stop. And waited. After about 10 minutes and asking about Chey we heard he had crashed hard. I was sick.

Chey’s lack of riding for six weeks plus learning his new bike left him tired. At the Medio/Gran split I should have taken the Medio route. Instead, being macho, we turned up that awful gravel road and Chey started walking almost immediately. That should have been my clue. And now, he crashed. Damn me! I thought I killed Chey.

A few minutes later the SAG van came in and Chey was in it. I saw a smile on his face which was a relief. I hadn’t seen a smile since he began the climb on gravel. He got out and stood up gingerly. He was bleeding and his shorts were ripped up.

The guy running the rest stop was packed up and ready to go. He already had his son in the front seat and could take two passengers and two bikes. The quickest way back to get Chey treatment was to get him back to Harrisonburg. Maybe that was even quicker than calling for an ambulance here in a remote part of West Virginia. And Zeke decided he had had enough. So the two of them took the car back to Harrisonburg.

I headed up the 7.5-mile climb. This was the second climb on the Medio route. It was paved now but last year was dirt. Unlike last year, there was no timing station setup.

Jake loved blue butterflies and we are left to wonder about some mysteries in life. I have never seen a blue butterfly in my life. But since Jake left us these blue butterflies seem to appear at the strangest times.

I knew I was last on the course. I had the climb all by myself. As I started off without Chey I became very emotional. I felt that I had pushed Chey to ride the long route. Maybe he even crashed because he was tired. And here I was all alone on this climb. Just as I was to start to cry a blue butterfly fluttered by. What the hell?! I had never seen a blue butterfly before. But I thought of Jake. And I knew that Jake’s Pedal Pal, Chey, would be OK.

My mind turned to the climb. After a mile or so the SAG van passed me then went about 1/4 mile ahead and waited. I passed and the van leapfrogged me. And so it went. I believed the driver was watching the clock and at some point was going to tell me I was beyond the cutoff and to jump in the van. Sometimes he walked down the road looking for me. But I kept the pace and kept going.

I was so sure he was going to pull me off course that I had my speech ready to go. He can’t make me get off the road. He could have my timing chip and my race number but I have the right to the road. I was going to finish the ride for Jake and that was bigger than his cutoff time. In fact, I probably had an hour in the bank. But nothing was going to stop me.

Then I started thinking about taking the lanterne rouge award for being the last finisher. Reaching the summit I flew across the top of Reddish Knob and began my descent. I was flying and got halfway down the mountain when I saw a number of riders. I caught the last guy going about 35 mph then tagged him. “You’re last,” I told him. He looked at me not knowing what I was talking about. Then I drifted back – to last – and waited for the SAG van. “I thought you said I could be last.” He laughed at me.

I pedaled ahead and came to a rest stop with lots of cyclists. I wasn’t going to be last.

Just 18 miles to go and the roads in this section were rollers — undulating ups and downs with some flat sections. On a gravel road, I passed a farmhouse with the name Wenger on the mailbox. Then about 100 yards away I passed another farmhouse. A Mennonite woman waved to me. I stopped.

Her three young daughters were watching from the door and I asked if their name was Wenger. It was. I told them my great-great-great-grandmother was Mary Wenger. There was a pretty good chance we were distantly related. (This from my knowledge of Wenger genealogy) The girls, dressed in their plain long dresses came to see me. I gave them my business card. We were so different. They in their very conservative dress and me outfitted in blue/black spandex. With FUCANCER on the jersey. They must have wondered where I went so wrong.

I pedaled to the finish. Crossing the line the announcer called my name and said I was on a hot list. Then he found it to read that I was a survivor. I would have preferred him to say what I wrote — I was riding in memory of Jake Grecco – the toughest superhero I know.

Finisher’s Medal for Alpine Loop Gran Fondo

Chey was waiting at the finish. He was banged up and bandaged up a little. Nothing broke, he didn’t go for X-rays. Lots of road rash and some mechanical issues with the bike that will have to be fixed. But hopefully, we can do this another day. And I didn’t kill him.

July 27, 2012September 29, 2021

Livestrong for Jake

ANAMOSA, IOWA

I had wanted to ride with Scott Scudamore and his friends from IMBA although they constantly stroked my ego by telling me how much stronger and faster I was. Today would be the day. I would stay with them no matter what.

We stayed together nine miles.

Overnight we had camped on the outskirts of Cedar Rapids. In the morning we rode to the downtown area. When we came to Czech Village they had “Breakfast on the Bridge” which was very nice. But it also meant confusion in walking across the long bridge over the Cedar River.

Breakfast on the Bridge – Cedar Rapids, Ia.

I found two riders of Scott’s group on a tandem, Nancy DeVore and Coroleen Bean and stayed with them for a couple of blocks as they tried to get the front wheel of their recumbent fixed. And did.

After the repair, I slipped into the Chrome Horse Saloon for an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet ($8) and never saw anyone from Scott’s group the rest of the day. I honestly tried to stay with them. No matter what.

All alone with 23,000 other cyclists, I headed towards Anamosa. There were a couple of climbs coming out of Cedar Rapids which slowed many riders. I passed a rider from LIVESTRONG but kept going. At the top of the climb I decided to wait for her. After a few minutes and thinking I had missed her, I jumped on the bike then more LIVESTRONG riders passed by me including this one.

This time I did not miss my opportunity. Eliza Hanson was riding in Honor of “Normal” so I asked her what “Normal” was. Eliza told me that cancer patients don’t want anything other than to be Normal. And that was what she was riding for.

Then I told her I wanted to write on her back. I wanted her to ride for Jake. And she let me. I told her the story of Jake and then wrote “Jake The Hero Grecco” on her back and then left to never see her again.

I was surprised with the ease and my interest in riding with the cycling cancer community at RAGBRAI. Four years ago I wouldn’t have wanted to ride with them and now I found myself seeking them out.

On the ride it was college spirit day. Riders were asked to wear their alma mater or favorite college jersey. With the NCAA sanctions against Penn State coming down, it wasn’t a good time to be a Nittany Lion. I wore the sweater of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Yes, I know, that’s not a college.

Arriving Mt. Vernon I suspect that every college in Iowa had a booth on the side of the
streets and this was one you absolutely had to walk through. Slowly. Mount Vernon is a beautiful town and home to Cornell College.

All week we had been traveling with Brancel Charters. There are different levels of charters available but with Brancel we knew our luggage would be transported separately from RAGBRAI’s and we didn’t have to sort through it. It also meant that we had our own camping area scouted out. Today it was next to the community swimming pool and stage.

Camping at Goettsch Funeral Home, Anamosa, Iowa

I pitched my tent next to the swimming pool — a bad idea — and then — went for a ride. I had promised myself to rest some and not do a fifth straight century ride. I had a feeling that might not be good for my body. Today’s ride was listed at 42 miles although we seemed to be six miles from the start point so we were at 48 miles when we arrived in Anamosa.

I set out to explore the town. I found a penitentiary, then Riverside Cemetery, burial place of the painter, Grant Wood. And I found people camping in the cemetery of the burial place of Grant Wood. With RAGBRAI, anything’s acceptable. And I assume this was a RAGBRAI camp site although do not know for certain.

Although I wasn’t tired, or overly tired, I had promised myself that I would not turn a 42-mile ride into my fifth straight century ride. But my mileage of 75 gave me 500 for five days. Not too bad.

When I returned I noticed two things. First, when I left the pool was empty and very serene. But when I returned it was full of patrons and overflow from the pool ran down the sidewalk right under my tent. This was not good. I tore down the tent and moved it to higher ground.

Camping in Riverside Cemetery, Anamosa, Ia.

Second, there was something big happening at the stage by the pool. And we were the only people who were camping there.

For our last night of RAGBRAI, Bob Brancel brought in a band, Swing Crew, to play for us. Walking towards the stage I could hear the band but only see the audience and they were dying with laughter. I thought the band sounded OK playing “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” but didn’t know why it was so funny. When I walked around the corner I could see that Scott had joined them on stage. He was doing motions to the song, let’s just say these weren’t the motions I learned attending church camp at Camp Allegheny. OMG. So funny!!! (And I deleted the video to protect the guilty.)

Shortly after that Scott then led a number of people on stage (pictured) doing the Conga or some type of line dance. A fun time is always what you get when Scott is around. No, it’s a party.

July 26, 2012July 26, 2021

No More Pacelines

CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA

I quit looking for pacelines. I noticed that most days I rode faster than just about everyone which hopefully isn’t as arrogant as it sounds. On the few occasions I was passed it was usually by a paceline and often I caught them later.

I started to jump into a line but halfway back was a rider who pedaled fast, then braked, then coasted. Repeat. I felt the advantage of riding in a paceline was not worth the risk of a crash. It was easier, and safer, to ride by myself.

RAGBRAI brings out all kinds of riders and probably less than the average number of serious riders. I passed amputees with one leg. I passed tons of recumbent riders including three-wheel ones for paraplegics using hand cranks. Well done my friends! There were families towing kids, either in trailers or on tandems. Which, in the heat, I think they should be charged with child neglect. Children’s bodies cannot regulate the 100-degree heat for 10-12 hours.

There was a banana boat crew – a tandem recumbent that looked like a boat, in yellow, with five wheels. There was a couple who had a tandem painted in the black and white pattern of a cow. And they wore cow costumes. There was even an older lady who dressed up as the tooth fairy.

I was resigned to enjoying the ride when I rolled into Vinton which may have been the first signs of a city we saw since leaving Sioux Center. A guy advertising Pizza Hut was spinning his sign as I rolled by I reminded him we didn’t come to RAGBRAI to eat at Pizza Hut. I went by and stopped — at Subway. It was so inviting.

Air conditioning. And free refills. It hit the spot.

Once out on the road, I caught or was caught by Cindi and Ken Hart. We then rode together to Cedar Rapids. We could talk about cancer and most importantly, Jake the Hero. I also talked about a group of college students from Baltimore cycling 4,000 miles across the U.S. to raise awareness and money in the fight against cancer. My “Pedal pal” on this trip is Patrick Sheridan.

Near Cedar Rapids, we pulled over for some free water supplied by Jerry Ask, a cyclist and multi-RAGBRAI rider. I asked him about a local ride since 82 miles wouldn’t be enough today.

Jerry sent me in a direction to “Czech Town” although it is marked as Czech Village. I wondered if that was a derisive term the locals use for it. But I found the path along the Cedar River he recommended and followed it to Ely, Iowa.

Spokes of Hope / Cyclists Combating Cancer sign

At the campsite, next to Cherry Hill Aquatic Center, the decision was which showers to use. The pool had $5 showers, actually free showers with a pool admission while the shower trailer, next to Pork Belly Ventures, was six dollars. I had heard there was standing water in the pool showers, that they were cold, and were spring-loaded for only a few seconds of water at a time. I opted for the trailers. Plus the line to the pool was long.

Showers on RAGBRAI usually meant a 20-40 minute wait, especially on the men’s side. The women had it better because there were far fewer of them on RAGBRAI.

The Brancel Charter moving van which transported our gear every day

Dinner was at Cedar Hills Community Church nearby – prepaid when I registered with Brancel Charters. RAGBRAI campers were spread out through Cedar Rapids. We were camped next to the water park but there were no close-by eateries. But there was the church close that served dinner which was presented to us as an attractive option. They served chicken breasts and corn. It was pretty good actually.

Mileage: 115. It was my fourth century in four days.