The Pedaling Professor

The Reality of Riding Across America

2008-08-22T15:22:00.002-04:00

Note 1- This is written for cyclists thinking about taking this or other long distance trips. If you’re a casual reader, don’t ruin your fun, skip this.

Note 2- re-reading this, I can see a mix of present-tense and past-tense. I can’t fix it because the trip is present, but rapidly receding into the past. Bear with it.

I need to comment about the reality of riding across America and how it differs from the fantasy I had on setting out to San Francisco. The America By Bicycle brochures and web site point out that the two can be very different. If one is wedded to the fantasy, the ride will be disappointing. But if one can accept that “what is, is” the ride can be more than one expected.

First, I should say that there are times when the reality is just like the fantasy. Riding along the shores of Lake Tahoe with alpine mountains reflecting on its surface is awe inspiring. Seeing the salt lakes for the first time made me understand the whole concept of mirage and what it must have done to pioneers’ heads. Cresting Monarch Pass at 11,300 feet and seeing a whole new vista on the other side of the mountain is magical. In the Western States, every day brings some kind of surprise.

There are days when the reality is something I never could have thought to fantasized. These were the days of riding around the Major Taylor velodrome or catching the little kids with their red wagon parade around the Illinois state capital on the fourth of July. Who could have expected that? There were hip things like Lee serving us her home made pies at “The Bus Stop,” and telling about life as a building mural artist and boxer. Jesse James’ house and the huge museum of Western lore in St. Joe’s were hidden treasures. There are lots of little things that surprise and delight when you are traveling with the speed of bike.

There are many realities that I never thought of when I signed up for the ride. First is the reality of a fifty two day trip. That’s the longest I’d ever been away from home. It meant letting go of my job, my friends, my family, and all the things that make up my daily life. They would all go on without me. There were times on the trip when I would go to WalMart, just because that was something “normal” people do. I stayed at 47 different hotels, 47 different rooms to find, 47 times to figure out where to put my bike, 47 different alarm clocks to program, 47 times to load and unload the luggage. I’d never thought about laundry. I did the laundry ten times, in a truck stop, at the hotel, at a Laundromat, in a tub, sometimes drying on the interstate fence behind the hotel or the fence of the pool. Laundry became a big concern. I had four jerseys and three sets of shorts. Would I make it until the next hotel with a laundry? Would the blast furnace of a drier ruin all my “line dry” lyrca shorts? 47 breakfasts, 47 dinners, all with the same 40 people (and with food that was sadly the same). To be thrown in with forty people is like being freshmen in college. Everyone is a little nervous, everyone is in the same boat. A few people knew each other, most did not. There was no room for pretense or posing. You can’t hide who you really are for 52 days. Before I left, I wondered if I’d get enough time to myself. 52 days with a bunch of people. Argh! I liked them. I became a devotee of group riding. "Tom time" was never an issue.

I missed my friends and my family and my work and my routine. There weren’t many calls or letters from home. There weren’t even many comments on the blog or e-mails. I wondered if it was worth the effort to post. Was anyone reading it? It’s a little humbling to realize that life goes on without you, much as it would if you were on a trip to the moon, or for that matter, dead. I look forward to sleeping in my bed, having a cup of my own coffee from my own mug, and yes, even to using my own washer and drier.

Hotels weren’t part of my fantasy. They were mostly average budget motels. Only three were memorably good: the Best Western Lake Tahoe, the Query Inn and Suites in St. Joe’s MO, and Styleridge Suites in Indianapolis. A few were god-awful places that, if I checked in with my family, I would have left; Days Inn and American Value, where the sheets and towels had holes in them. Paint was either pealing or rusty. The pool was closed. The soda machine was broken. The washer worked, but not the drier. Some hotels were simply repetitive, the same light fixtures, the same dressers, the same soap in the same place on the counter in every Holiday Inn or Holiday Inn Express. It gets old when you know the hotel better than the house keeping staff does.

Most of the food was unremarkable, the only memorable meal being the first buffet we had at the Golden Nuggest Casino in NV. It was high quality and in quantity that amazed our European members. Breakfast was either in the hotel, or at Denny’s, Bob Evans, Perkins, or when we were lucky, someplace “local”. Those make-it-yourself waffle makers were popular at the hotels, they allowed them to claim “hot breakfasts.” The local eateries were invariably good. Lunch was “on our own” -we had some real finds in local cafes and restaurants. There were also more than our share of Dairy Queens, Burger Kings, and gas station food. The fantasy was that all out meals would be local cuisine served by local people. Dinner was usually at some chain restaurant. They never wanted in quantity, although quality was sometime questionable. Sizzler, Bob Evans, lots of Golden Corrals, a Chinese Buffet in Dodge City that was quite good and a few local restaurants. But we came for the riding, not for the food. The food often degenerated down to a simple source of calories - "a unit of energy" as I like to remind my students. We need lots of energy, but it's a little sad when you just "gas up."

As to the riding, the mechanics (not the actual riding, but the mechanics of touring) are pretty harsh. I’ve never been a morning person, and this was not like RAGBRIA or some charity tour where you could start whenever as long as your gear was on the truck my eight. Our mornings were much more compressed. There is typically an hour between the start of breakfast and the start of load. Breakfast could be as early as 5:30 but no later than 6:30. At exactly the posted load time, the trailers doors flew open, the pumps spilled out, and the sign-out table was set up. People scramble for pumps, luggage is loaded, tires are topped off at 120 psi, riding groups assemble and depart. Within 20 minutes, it’s all over. Point- this isn’t a leisurely get up, eat, have a second cup of coffee, and roll out deal. The ride is very compressed. The structure is necessary since four staff members in two vans have to provide support to 40 cyclists. The more compressed the departure, the fewer miles we’re spread over, and the better support we get. Still, for someone who is not a morning person, it sucks. I don’t usually hit my stride until the 20 or 30 mile mark. About 20 days into the trip, I started getting up 15 minutes earlier. That let me move slower and made my morning not so painful.

The mechanics of sag support are tremendously important to the reality of the ride. On really hot days, two water bottles between rest stops aren’t enough to enough to ensure hydration. I’d never had a problem with dehydration, who’d have thought it would be an issue now? At times, it was. Fortunately, the vans stop randomly and top off our water between SAG stops. There were parts of the route, which quite frankly, were too dangerous to ride. Going down I-80 in a construction zone with no shoulder wasn’t in my fantasy. The vans were there, and encouraged us to SAG, but gave us the choice. (Here is a reality not in the fantasy; when it was really dangerous, we were told to get in the van or be dropped from the ride.) (This may anger riders who are set on riding every inch, but safety should come first). Bikes break in ways they never break back home. For the first time in my life, my derailleur cable snapped. Not a biggie. A rider with a new Specialized bike developed cracks in both her wheels. That is a big deal. Several riders had to buy new wheel sets or have other major repairs done en route. Many bought new tires, new saddles, new gloves, new shorts.

The support team from the touring company is not something I gave much thought to before the ride, but they are the absolute key to a safe and happy passage. That being said, there isn’t much hand-holding. No one will, or can, ride the ride for you. There are forty adult riders and four support staff. When riders are injured, they are taken to the hospital and once every thing is under control, the staff leaves and returns to the ride. It seems cold, but if it were otherwise, there’d be three staff for 39 riders, or 2 for 38. : - ( (However, when lots of people caught the stomach bug, they were driven directly to the next hotel.) ((Whose fantasy includes sickness, constipation, sunburn, diarrhea, and saddle sores?)) Our bike mechanic was the best in the world, but for major bike issues (those requiring more parts than tubes, tires, or cables) we’re referred to a local bike shop. The riders are largely responsible for the well-being of both themselves and their bikes.

Riding down a two lane shaded road chatting with a cycling buddy, stopping to talk with the farmers, or riding off route to see the local attractions are all part of the fantasy of the ride. We did get to ride down those two lane shaded roads later in the trip. But most of Colorado, Utah, and Nevada were ridden on the shoulders of interstates. We had to concentrate on avoiding the rumble strips, broken glass, and shredded tires. It was challenging to ride with triple trailers doing 75 miles per hour just ten feet away from you. There was no single riding buddy. But there were always riders who were riding your speed that day. In a way, this was nice, I got to ride with Sue, Jose, Jeff, Steve, John, Amie, Audrey, CJ, Skip, Kip, Sarge, John, Don, Jay, Rick, and Gary at one time or another. (That’s more than a third of the riders.) But if you slowed down, you got dropped. If you wanted to take a picture or take a piss, it was “See you at the next SAG stop.” If you wanted to go off route, it was “Just let us know so that we won’t be keeping the SAG stop open for you.” In the end, on the road it was every man for himself. It was necessary. You have to ride your own ride. If a group stops every time a member wants to stop and there are 15 people in the group, the group never gets anywhere. There were also days when two or three people would agree to ride together with an implicit “no matter what.” This usually happens when we are tired, but allows for lots of stops to take pictures, have butt breaks, etc. Riding off-route for any period of time (it would have been nice to go to church on a Sunday or two) was really out of the question. The route directions are best interpreted by a group, and the SAG stops are opened for a fixed interval. If one took an hour off, it would be very easy to get lost and far off course.

In terms of me actually riding my bike, well, riding the bike is like riding the bike. I doubt that anyone who has ridden any distance has any fantasy about the actual riding. You get on, you pedal, you get off. On long days, I’d break the trip up into segments. Half way to lunch, ten miles to the sag, a third of the way through the day’s ride, or when thing got bad, I’d just count down the miles. (The later is counter productive since miles go by very slowly. I’d try not to look at the computer if the day was slow.)

The road bike, with it’s 20 gear combination (2 front, 10 back), is an incredibly efficient machine. I, however, am not so efficient, so most of the problems were with me. Dehydration was a constant issue. Although it wasn’t talked of openly, the state of one’s bowls was a topic of whispered conversation. Where you loose? Were you tight? Who had what medicine? Early in the trip, I had a severe constipation problem. Yuch. Later there were opposite issues. I came to hate my bib-style cycling short, which have suspender straps over the shoulder. I had to take off my jersey to let down my shorts. Somewhat related to this is the issue of food. Different people have different needs. I needed to stop for real food (not granola bars and an orange) after between four and five hours of riding. If I didn’t, I’d feel awful. I got past the point of asking if anyone wanted to stop for lunch, and would just announce that I was stopping within the next half hour if anyone wanted to join me. Someone usually did. Then there is that last whispered issue- sore butt, butt rash, and saddled sores. Mine had gone from bad to worrisome by day 10. Bad butts can end your ride, so there were circulating conversations of butt butter vs. assos vs. brave soldier vs. bag balm vs antibiotic cream. What saved my ass was switching out saddles to put on “The Seat®.” There were lots of crack about its unusual shape when I put it on the bike, but by the end of the ride, many people wanted to know where they could buy one. All my problems cleared up once I switched to “The Seat®”.

Flats were the most irritating, reoccurring mechanical problem of the trip. I had 14 of them, mostly in the beginning of the trip (after which I put in Goo tubes) or at the end, when my tires were chewed up. One tried not to get too upset by flats, they were a cost of doing business. In reality, flats are not that hard to fix, they are just aggravating. Two people tied for the most flats on the trip; 17. remarkably, one rider had none. The van had a box with a gross (144) of tubes. My biggest mechanical was a broken rear derailleur cable- it forced me to ride hills in my highest gear for ten miles. I had a new set of breaks put on after coming down the Rockies. It seemed like a prudent thing to do. My chain also wore out, but I’d packed a spare. I had to put on a third chain when I got home.

Small things that were never an issue at home became intolerable on the ride. My beloved Oakley sunglasses (a gift from my kids) didn’t wrap around enough and weren’t close enough to my face. Stuff got in my eyes and my contacts dried out. I got new sunglasses at Target. Those really cool metallic candy apple red water bottles that matched my bike so well? There were lousy, I couldn’t squeeze them to squirt water into my mouth. I threw them away and bought plastic water bottles at WalMart. My very expensive state of the art Garmand cycle computer became unreliable. I bought a bare bones "back up" computer for $20. It suited my needs. Things that were a big deal at home just didn’t matter on the road. I never listened to those CDs, wore all the clothes, or wrote any post cards that I’d brought from home.

The bottom line is that the reality of the ride is very different from the fantasy. If I’d known then what I know now, would I do the ride? Absolutely, and I’d probably enjoy it more.

If you are a rider, and you ever have the chance to ride cross country, do it. If you have any doubts, read the entries for July 18 and July 22.

May the wind be at your back,

Tom

I made it!

2008-07-22T20:54:00.011-04:00

52 days, 3,925 miles, 14 states, California to Maine
So, here I am, at home, two days later. The scenes are fresh in my mind, but a small part of my heart will always be in the Atlantic surf where I dipped my wheel in a communal baptism with my friends, the riders. What can I say? Water changes us. The time and space between my rear wheel in the Pacific and my front wheel in the Atlantic changed me. It changed me for the better in ways that I've yet to digest. If you’ve been following the blog, you know that.

The last day started like yesterday. It was a grind. The sky was overcast. There was some light rain. The hills were still there. Then at the SAG stop, something changed. Usually the SAG is a pit stop at a gas station; fuel, water, pee, get back on the road. Today, everyone was hanging out, talking, not too anxious for the end of the day. At some point, though, we rode out together, the 20 of us who had been hanging out, resplendent in our matching red white and blue America By Bicycle cycling jerseys. We looked like a team. We were a team. People along the way clapped, honked, gave us thumbs up. We took an off-route excursion to see Exeter Academy, the first group “off-route” I can remember. Maybe it was just toadd miles to the experience. At the Rye Elementary School “holding area” our emotions bubbled up. There were hugs, kisses, pictures with friends, and heart-felt expressions of joy as we waited for the last riders to come in. It was “right” to have this happen now so that the final moments could be sheer joy and celebration. Sarge and his group rode in at 11:30, so there was half hour before we rode the last two miles. Fifteen minutes of that was devoted to the group picture; in addition to the “official” picture, there were 40 personal cameras lined up to get the shot. It took a while.

Since Sarge always cared for our “stragglers” and took upon himself to be “the last in” everyday, we chose him and Steve, Sarge’s constant companion, to lead us to the ocean. With a police escort, lights flashing with occasional blasts of the siren, we rode those last two miles, four abreast, almost exploding with joy, pride and emotion. A collective gasp rolled through the pelaton as we crested a small hill and saw the Atlantic for the first time. Applause and horns greeted us as we turned into Wallis Beach State Park, rode to the beach end of the parking lot, dismounted, and carried our bikes to the ocean. Imagine that line of cyclists carrying the bikes that had carried us so far. Then there was the dip, just the front wheel, just a kiss. No immersion for our rust-prone steeds. More hugs, more congratulations, lots of bike lifts. If I’d planned it, I’d have taken off my helmet and sunglasses, but I didn’t plan it, so I just handed off my bike and charged into the Atlantic. For me, it was a total immersion baptism. I frolicked in the waves. The water was warm. It was good to feel salt water on my skin that didn’t come from sweat. There was a bit of humility, too. As I emerged from the water, a little girl of perhaps 9 or 10 walked up to me and asked what all the commotion was about. "We just rode our bicycles from California," I answered proudly. Her reply, "Why did you do that?" There was no short sweet answer...

Somewhere in this mix were the people who love me, easy to spot by the custom green “pedaling professor” hats that Rosanne had made for the occasion. Mom just hugged and hugged with tears rolling down her face. She told me that she and Dad had prayed for my safety every day. Dad just beamed with pride. When I was a kid, he was the one who taught me how to take apart a bike and put it back together. I am so grateful to my brother Bob and my sister-in-law, Karen for bringing my folks up with them. Bob and I rode alot together when we were teenagers. Deb was my photographer and took dozens of pictures. Rosanne prepared an incredible picnic spread of cold cuts, deviled eggs, lots of cold beer, and a cake that had this blog’s featured map on it. Mike, Greg, and I toasted the ride. My cycling friends wandered over to this last congregating place and indulged in all of the above and a few last pictures.

Most of there riders stayed at the same hotel. Our support staff was out back, breaking down and boxing bikes. It was the last time to climb through the luggage pile and find mine and bring it back to my room.

I took my family and friends out to a great seafood dinner, and then climbed into bed. There were a few last fading good-byes at breakfast the next morning, and then off to our respective “real lives.” The epic journey is over. Or not. After all, it's not "all about the bike."

Day 51 (day 52 to follow), Manchester, NH, 82 miles

2008-07-20T20:47:00.004-04:00

Today shouldn’t have been so hard. On our next to last day, shouldn’t we be allowed to coast into the finish? No such luck. The day was overcast at best, and soggy at its worst. There were lots of hills, and steep ones, 12-14% climbs. It felt like just another day of grinding it out. New England is beautiful, even in the rain and fog which render the mountains muted shades of green and give rise to mist off the ponds and lakes. For the West Coast folks, that was novelty enough to make up for the weather. For me, I’d seen it before, but then again, I’d also seen hills like these before; I scoffed at them. When all was said and done, it was probably one of the five hardest riding days of the trip.

But, as with that long climb up a mountain, the hovering at the crest, and then the very rapid finish on the other side, our trip was rapidly coming to an end. We could feel it. We had a banquet that night. Rosanne (who lives in NH) arrived with beer, cheese and crackers, and munchies. Before you knew it, we were having a pre-dinner reception (I guess you’d call it a cocktail hour if it were cocktails, but I’ve never heard it called a beer hour). She knew a lot of my friends from her visit in St. Joe’s. As is our custom during dinners on the rode, we introduced our guests. Some spouses had flown in, a few mom and dads. Mike and Greg, who work with me at Rutgers (and are also cyclists) drove up from NJ so they could ride in with me on the last day. It was just so neat to them meet my friends at dinner. Gary had his vineyard (yes, Gary had a vineyard, just a few thousand bottles a year for family and friends…) ship a case of wine to the hotel. It was far better than anything we’d drunk as we’d crossed the country. The dinner was a BBQ, the pulled pork was better than Kansas’, the chicken, sausage, corn bread and fixings were all most excellent, inarguably the best dinner of the trip (take that, Golden Corral!). The after dinner festivities were moving. Gerard, in addition to being our mechanic, was our videographer. He’d taken thousands of pictures as we moved across the county and put the very best together into a video that chronicled the journey. It brought home the reality; seeing that first dip of the wheels in the Pacific, the cresting of Monarch Pass, Lake Tahoe, cowboys, gorges, steer, happy faces, flats, sweaty faces, the SAG wagon, goofy faces, laundry hanging by the pool, faces that grimaced with effort, arm-in-arm cyclists, more faces, cyclists riding down the highway, cyclists riding off into the sunset…. Had we really done all this? Indeed. Then the most moving part, each rider had the chance to say a few words about the trip. Most of those words were about friendship, tributes to fellow riders, gratitude to our tour guides, appreciation to friends and families back home, attempts to articulate a fifty two day journey with words that did not exist. An underlying theme was what a remarkable group of ordinary people we are. And not remarkable because we could ride long distances on two wheels. What was remarkable, dare I say, “grace-full” was that forty people who had never met before could endure illness, heat, rain, boredom, bad food, flat tires, and dehydration; what we could share mountain summits, deep gorges, magnificent desert parks, and pie, lots of pie. We could share the very hard, the mundane, the very beautiful, and that every one loved each other. I do not say that lightly. Imagine (a word I used a lot early in the blog) living in close quarters with 40 strangers for 52 days under very physically and mentally challenging conditions, and never once, was there a public argument, never once a word said in anger, never once a raised voice. Never once. It sounds trite, but the 40 people who were strangers in San Francisco are the very best of friends in New Hampshire. That, my friends, is Grace.

Fee Advisory for Wallis Beach

2008-07-20T20:40:00.002-04:00

My brother Bob has looked up the beach on the internet and found that there is a parking fee of $15 per car or $20 per van. It might be possible to park nearby and walk on, but I've never been there and really don't know. There is no fee to enter riding a bicycle. ; - )

2 Riding Days to Go, July 20, 80 miles, Brattleboro, VT, Day 50

2008-07-20T20:13:00.010-04:00

It felt like coming home as I crossed the Vermont border in the cool misty morning air. Not that I’ve ever lived in Vermont, but I’ve lived in New England and would go back to Boston in a minute. My graduate student days at MIT afforded lots of opportunities to vacation in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. I love New England. My CharityTrek rides of ’07 and ’05 meandered along some of these same roads and saw some of the same sights as I have on this ride. Those are good memories too.

I enjoyed the reactions of my fellow riders who came from out West. The New England scenery was as foreign and beautiful to them as the Nevada desert or Utah salt flats were for me. They were very concerned about the hills in New England, despite my assurances that they are nothing like the Rockies. By the end of the day, they agreed. But Gerard had a different theory; the four weeks of cycling we’ve done since the Rockies have made us much stronger. It’s probably a combination of both.

The day started off in light rain, which stopped by SAG stop 1. The sky and forests remained misty, creating the muted palette of greens and gray-green as the hills rolled into the distance. That’s not something a camera can catch. The route was only 75 miles, so we had time to stop and be tourists. The little town of Bennington seemed to have no reason to exist except as a tourist trap, a very chic tourist trap with $10 sandwiches and cute attractions like a huge bed filled with flowers. It was, you guessed it, a “flower bed.” Near it stood a ten foot chair- a “lawn chair.” I’d never seen environmental puns before. Most of us shared those $10 sandwiched to get two five dollar half-sandwiches. I bought a three dollar maple walnut ice cream cone and still came out two dollars ahead of the game. My mom would be proud. Bennington occupied a mile stretch of Vt Route 9, where the traffic came from, or where it went is a mystery, the rest of Rt 9 was little trafficked. I wasn’t thrill when a gazillion foot long motor home lopped over the bicycle lane line. My guess is that the driver wasn’t too thrilled that someone was using the bicycle lane. I stood my ground. Between Bennington and Brattleboro was a covered bridge, allegedly from 1890, but it was probably “modernized.” I’ve never seen an authentic covered bridge with a fully separated pedestrian walkway.

Brattleboro was also full of craft shops, clothing stores with cute names and cafes, but there are enough real people living here to support three bicycle shops. Ok, there must be a lot of real people who are in good shape and have a lot of money. (They were high end bike shops.) I stopped in one of those artsy “walk down” coffee shops and ordered a medium cup of the strongest stuff they had. The barista respected me for that and gave me a cup of Joe that dried my socks. After going around one of New England’s trade mark rotaries (an advanced cycling skill), it was into the Red Roof Inn. There were some issues getting my room, but they had a big tub of chilled powered drinks, so it was ok. It takes so little to make things right for me.

In addition to the pictures already mentioned, I’m posting a picture of “the board” by which we live and breathe, and the map posted below the board. Every day, the black line has moved a little bit. (Double click to read its message.)

How rapidly the ride will be over is just starting to hit me. Tomorrow night, we’ll have a special dinner and some festivities to mark the end of the ride. The day after, we’ll ride out early in the morning, hit the beach between 12 and 12:30, and it will be all over. I’m looking forward to having my birth family and some friends at the finish. Despite my repeated incantations of, “When I’m done, I’m done.” I’ll probably take the post-ride ride into Maine. It’s only another three miles, and “California to Maine” has a better ring to it than “California to New Hampshire.”

Saturday July 19, Day 49, Lantham, NY, 3 riding days left!!

2008-07-19T16:01:00.007-04:00

Today was another easy short day- 77 miles. It was hot and humid, but there weren't too many hills, there was interesting historical architecture, and we rode bike paths that were smooth and shaded along the Mohawk River. I saw some functioning locks along the river. I've always associated locks with canals, but they are used widely here to take maritime traffic around falls or rapids. SAG stop #2 was at Jumping Jack's, similar to Robinson's of a few days back or Hot Dog Johny's on the route to the Delaware Water Gap. About half the group congregated there. I indulged having fried clams on a hot dog bun and a strawberry shake. The fried clams were exceptionally good. I got to the Holiday Inn Express at about 1:30, ahead of the luggage trailer! But my room wasn't ready til 2:30. That was ok. Where was I going to go?

Our conversations have turned to post-ride plans, the transport of bikes back home, and the mechanics of the last day. Everyone is very excited that there are only three riding days left ot go.

Lantham is a suburb of Albany.

Day 48, Tuesday July 18, Little Falls, NY, 82 miles

2008-07-18T20:52:00.002-04:00

I woke up ahead of the alarm clock feeling greet and had two flats before I ended the first mile of the ride. It didn’t matter. Other than that, there was nothing unusual about today’s ride. The falls at Little Falls are little (see picture).

My daily posts have been about the events of the day, but with four riding days left, I’ve decided to offer up a meta-analysis of the experience. It’s a little sappy, but bear with me, I’ve earned it.

The Cross Country Challenge to Combat Hunger - A Retrospective

The title of Lance Armstrong’s first book is, “It’s All About the Bike.” Andy, our tour leader, says, “It’s all about what you learn when you’re on the bike.” Andy is right. So here are some of the things I’ve learned.

There is a fundamental goodness about the ordinary people of middle America. I didn’t “get” this until I spent several weeks riding through Mayberrys with main streets decked out in red white and blue bunting. People are more than willing to go out of their way to help a stranger. I’m talking about the maids in the hotels who knocked themselves out to get our rooms ready, even though we arrived three hours before check-in. There were hotel staff who greeted us with cold bottled water, fruit and bike washing supplies. Lots of folks let us use their bathrooms and chatted with us “nonpaying” customers. There were people who opened early or stayed late for us. People in places like Donner Pass, the Sod House, and the Bicycle Museum who told us their stories and listened to mine.

I learned about humility, not the pre-ride self-effacing humility that said, “Anyone can do this.” Not everyone can. I’m talking about being humble before the road, knowing and accepting that the road is bigger than you, and remembering that fact every day from Day 1 to Day 52. To forget that is the fast track to a crash. Before the ride, I thought that I was as well-trained as anyone can be. There were many riders who were leaner and faster than I was. That was humbling. I was as well trained as I could be. I was also ok with being in the middle of the “moderate speed” riders. The fast group was blindingly fast. But by the middle of the ride, I slipped to the rear of the middle. For a few days I felt badly about that. But then I accepted my place in the pelaton with humility. I was riding as well as I could ride, and it was with an elite group of riders. Towards the end of the ride, I was back in the middle. That was ok too. I gained the humility needed to ask for and accept help. That was hard for me. Frequently, help was offered like a gift. It’s bad karma to refuse a gift. There was humility about my time on earth. Water erodes rock at the rate of one inch per hundred years The Arkansas River lay 12,000 inches below the rim of the Royal Gorge. When water meets rock, water always wins.

I learned about generosity. This lesson was taught by donors to Elijah’s Promise before the ride even began. People I know were generous beyond anyone’s expectations. People I didn’t know, or knew only peripherally gave. People who didn’t have much to give were generous. I’ve come to realize what a generous donation mean to someone raising funds for a nonprofit. Generosity on the ride began on Day 1, when Gary picked up lunch for my group of riders. He said it wasn’t a big deal, we’d all have a chance to buy lunch during the next 50 days. I picked up the lunch tab a few time. It wasn’t a big deal, but it made the other riders feel special and it made me feel special too. Then there were small acts of kindness on the road every day; giving away a tube, “no charge” for the tire inflation canister, waiting for someone to use a bush or take picture, sharing degreaser and tools at the bike washing parties, folding someone’s jerseys when they came out of the drier.

Finally, I learned about gratitude. I am grateful for having had the opportunity to ride. Being a professor is the best job in the world. It allows me to do extra-ordinary things, both on and off campus.

I’m grateful to every rider who rode with me, ate with me, bunked with me, changed my tire, trusted me to change their tire, sat with me at a SAG stop, listened to my stories, shared their stories, shared jokes in the Laundromat, or who stood with me in awe as we crested a summit and saw a new world unfold before us.

I’m grateful for our staff; for Andy’s Buddha nature, he was unflappable and always reassuring. Andy could get up at the end of the day and tell us, “Well, it rained all day, the head winds sure made going up those mountains a challenge, and who’d have thought that it would turn to snow? Did you ever thing you could ride through that? Did you ever imagine you were that strong? Wasn’t that a great day? And we’d all applaud and repeat what a great day it had been. When I got lost and rolled into the SAG stop late, I apologized about having been lost. “Well,” Andy said, “You had to be somewhere.” One couldn’t ask for a better mechanic, rider, or room mate than Gerard. He had this sixth sense for mechanical problems and magically appeared whenever there was a flat. He took tons of pictures; over the head, no hands as he rode up a pace line, or the descent from Donner Pass with his camera zip-tied to his helmet. Michelle, as I said before, was the mother figure, manning the rest stops, reminding us to check the lost and found, doing the head counts, handling the mechanics of the ride. Christine always smiled and encouraged as she rode the route, interviewed folks for the ABB blog, and drove the van.

I am so grateful to my family and friends for their support and encouragement. The support of my children touched me deeply. Matt had to become much more independent and responsible in my absence. My congregation at Emanuel Evangelical Lutheran Church got behind their “Pedaling Professor” in a way I could never image.

There is, of course, much much more to be grateful for, and many many more people who supported me on this epic ride.

Whatever the day, or the mile, I was never alone on this ride. I thank you all for that.

Day 47, July 17, 69 miles, Liverpool, NY

2008-07-17T16:33:00.005-04:00

Today was much better than yesterday. Much better.

I went to bed at 9 last night and woke up at six feeling refreshed and ready to go. My legs were strong when I hit the road. Since we only had 69 miles to ride, we could take it easy and stop to see the sights and attractions; the kind of day that populates the fantasy of cycling across the country.

The first stop was a Lake Geneva, another one of the finger lakes. The sun sparkled on the water to the East, and the mountains in the West were reflected in its surface. I picked up a trail that went along the lake but still kept Route 5 in sight. (Most of the day we followed route 20E/5E, which made navigating pretty easy.)

The birthplace of the Woman’s Suffragette Movement is in Seneca Falls, right on the route. The women in the group flew right by the National Parks Service monument and museum. The statue of Harriet Tubman was my highlight. Otherwise, it wasn’t that exciting; the museum was just a lot of stuff without a coherent story to go with it. If I hadn’t stopped, I would have always wondered. Beside, I was back on the road in 15 minutes. The landscape was now low rolling mid-size dairy farms, or low acreage corn. There was some gentle rain at the 20 mile mark that lasted for about 45 minutes. It wasn’t a big deal, but I’ll have to wash my bike.

Lunch was at Nick’s, a new pizza/sandwich place in Camillus. The special was steak sandwich with fries, it was very special. Nick was impressed with what we were doing and came out from behind the counter to talk. He called his son out from the kitchen and made sure that we were well taken care of.

The last stop of the day was the Erie Canal Park and Museum. The Delaware and Raritan Canal in NJ is in much better shape, probably because its whole length is a state park. The Erie is pretty much the responsibility of whatever town it is in. In many places it’s stagnant and overgrown. The tow path ranges from rough dirt to cinder. We were warned not to hop onto it; it’s not made for bikes like ours. Still, the museum was quite nice. It was a reproduction of a store that stood at that site and had some outbuildings and canal implements. I learned that the Erie Canal ran from Albany to Buffalo and had nothing to do with Lake Erie. The woman who opened up the museum reminded me of Carl, or the guy at the Sod House; elderly, full of knowledge, and willing to talk to you all day if you let them. They are something of a national treasure. I hope that their knowledge doesn’t die with them. It seems that every small town and burg has its historical museum. That’s kind of cool too. There will never be one in North Brunswick.

That’s about it for the day. Our Super8 is in Liverpool, a suburb of Syracuse. The staff had water, Propel, and fruit for us and a hose and towels for our bikes. Not a bad end to a good day.

Day 46. 103 miles, Canandaigua, NY

2008-07-16T20:24:00.001-04:00

Not every day can be the best day of the ride. Today wasn’t. So here, in the best Fox News tradition is a “fair and balanced” account of the day.

Good things:

About seven miles into the ride, we went a few miles off route to see the American Museum of Bicycling. It’s privately (and passionately) owned by Carl and is arguably the biggest collection of bicycles in the US, if not the world. Carl came in, opened early, and gave us an hour long tour tracing the history of the bicycle and it’s impact on American society. Did you know that Henry Ford worked on an assembly line in a bike factory before he “invented” the mechanized assembly line? According to Carl, the bicycle is responsible for women’s liberation (because their long skirts gave way to clothes that were more liberating and bicycle friendly, as well as the tandem, that made it impossible for a chaperone to tag along.) Many bicycle innovations migrated to cars: suspension, rubber tires, air filled tires, direct drive transmission, even the AAA was patterned after the League of American Bicyclists. Then of course there were those bicycle mechanic Wright Brothers, who made the planes that ultimately made us able to go to the moon. So every good thing can be linked back to the bicycle.

I completed my 14^th and last century of the trip.

Not so good things:

I missed the turn to 354 East, causing a nine mile off route excursion. At least it contributed the extra miles I need for the century.

It rained on me several times, not for long, but long enough to get me squishy. It’s better to just get caught in the rain and stay there. When the rain comes and goes, there’s the anticipation, the soaking and the drying out, repeatedly.

It hailed on me, hail stones twice the size of peanut M & Ms. I took shelter in a barn for a few minutes.

After finally recovering from the missed turn and catching up to the rear of the ride, I had a flat and fell behind for the rest of the day.

Your moment of Zen.
When the sun is on your right, and the traffic is on your left, the rain spray plume generated by every passing vehicle makes its own rainbow.

Day 45, Hamburg, NY, 81 miles

2008-07-15T17:32:00.002-04:00

It was a perfect route for the directionally-challenged; go four blocks from the hotel, turn right, and follow Rt 5 (aka Lakeview Drive) for 57 miles. Lake Erie wasn’t right off the drive, but sat back a hundred yards or two, playing hide and seek with us through vineyards, undeveloped woods, and lake-front homes with grassy yards that stretched from the road’s shoulder to the lakes very edge. The road surface was in good condition, the weather cool, and the fields of grapes a refreshing change from all of the corn and soy we’ve been seeing. There was the obligatory stop for the photo at the state line. I’m running out of new poses, I use them to tell o one state from another. But I have five days in New York to think of something new. We stopped in Barcelona at the Daniel Reed Memorial Pier, which featured a stone lighthouse and for reasons unbeknownst to me, what looked like a large beached pirates’ ship. We had our first SAG stop in Dunkirk’s Memorial Park. It has a nice view of the lake, a marina, and a coal-fired electrical generating plant which got its coal by barge on Lake Erie. Sue and I got flats at the same time, and as usual, the ABB van pulled up before I could get the front wheel off the bike. It was lucky for me, because I forgot to put the tubes I bought yesterday in my bike bag. The van has a case of tubes. So I changed my tire, Christin changed Sue’s and we were off again to the city of Hamburg and a new Comfort Inn that is pretty nice.

Day 44, 8 days to go. Erie, PA, Rest Day, (22 miles)

2008-07-14T17:20:00.005-04:00

You might envision me on “rest day” as lounging by a pool with a gin and tonic in hand reading a trashy beach novel about the search for the evil scientist who genetically engineered Cherioos to remove the fiber and doom the next generation to a life of constipation. It’s not like that. There is some rest. I sleep until 8:30 and then go downstairs for a leisurely breakfast. It is sooooooo nice to have breakfast without the pressure of load and road. I also enjoyed a few cups of coffee that, due to its diuretic (look it up) properties, I can’t drink on riding days. Then it’s bike washing time, just like the last rest day. But this time there is a twist, I have a flat. Yes, the irritating hotel-flat. But it’s on a rest day, doesn’t delay the start of the day’s ride, and the puncture site is readily found. You’ll remember that I had a flat yesterday and found the puncture, but apparently the tire had that very rare double puncture flat. So rare that when you find the first puncture, you don’t look for the second. So I threw that tube away, changed it and was ready to go on my excursion.

Shock, chagrin, outrage! “Dollar General” does not have the same deal as “The Dollar Store.” In Dollar General, things are generally a dollar, but can be $1.50 or even $20! I left in a fit of indignation and bought my new flip-flops at Rite Aid. (During the campaign, we’ll have to choose between Obama flip-flops and McCain as flip-flops, but fortunately I was still able to buy the pre-election model). Then I made the obligatory trip to the bike shop, where I bought, guess what? More inner tubes. I needed a pair of bicycle gloves; I wore out one pair worn and lost another pair (well actually I lost one glove, but that has the same effect).

Then it was vacation time. I rode out to Presque Isle State Park (see picture). It’s a peninsula that arcs out for 7 miles to define Erie’s bay. There’s a lovely, mostly shady, bike path that hugs the shore. It was populated by recreational cyclists and runners. On one side of the park, the City of Erie lays across the bay. On the other side of the park, Lake Erie stretches out beyond the horizon. For the record, I can identify the five Great Lakes: Huron, Superior, Ontario, Michigan, and the other one. The redeveloped water front was typical of many cities’ water assets. There was a striking Sheraton Hotel and Conference Center right on the water, a Bicentennial Tower with panoramic views of Presque and downtown (or should I say “rundown” since the redevelopment didn’t extend a block beyond the Sheraton.) The Erie Maritime Museum was the other tourist magnet, but didn’t attract me. They had a big wall around the restored ship “Niagara” so that I couldn’t even see it without paying admission. As a matter of principle, I didn’t. All of that took two hours. Oh, yes, I know, “the Other One" is Lake Erie. : - )

Technical Note: The video may take a long time to down-load. If you have a dial-up connection (Dad), don't even try. Maximize the image or you won't see much.

How far is that?

2008-07-13T19:45:00.001-04:00

If you've missed Chris' comment,
100,000 vertical feet of climb = 0.0079% of the way to the moon.
Thanks, Chris.

Day 43, 9 to go, 100 miles, Erie, PA

2008-07-13T19:28:00.003-04:00

Today's Ride:
Four centuries in four days, back to back! Not many people get to (or can) do that.

There was a lot packed into this day. I rode surprisingly strong, even when it started to rain. It rained (more than a drizzle, less than a down pour) for the first 50 miles (about 3 hours). Fortunately, I bought a new pair of rain pants for the trip. The rain gave me a chance to use them. I'mglad that I didn't buy them for nothing. When it rains, your gloves get squishy and your feet get soppy, but that’s part of the charm of riding in the rain. A “rooster tail” of water sprays off the rear wheel of the bike in front of me, so I have to ride 15 back or three feet to either side of center. There was a covered bridge built in 1873 about 50 yards off the route. A wiser person might have seen in a covered bridge the opportunity to come out of the rain, but I was wet already, so what good would that do? Fortunately, the sun broke out just before SAG stop 2, conveniently at Richardson’s Ice Cream Stand. Richardson’s had the air of an old fashioned A & W stand, and in fact featured root beer. We all had root beer floats, sometime using them to wash down hamburgers or hot dogs. It was a cool place to hang out and be part of small town America.

About a mile past the sag, I entered Pennsylvania; Skip took the obligatory picture by the sign. Riding into Erie was a little tricky. When I got a flat and no cyclists passes for twenty minutes, I deduced that I missed a turn. That was a valid insight, so I back tracked and continued on. After that, I had to ask for directions three times. But then I saw Leslie and Virginia go zipping by on their tandem, so I just followed them in. My cyclo-computer showed 99.3 miles when I arrived at the hotel, so I rode half a mile past and then back to complete the century. (Yes, I know that most people would have rounded the 99.3 miles up to 100, but I wanted my four centuries in four days to be above reproach.)

Tomorrow is a rest day! The next rest will be for the rest of my life. : - ) I intend to rest and maybe take in a museum or something. Erie looks like a substantial city that should have something (but not too much) to do.

Day 42, 10 to go, 100 miles, Youngstown, OH

2008-07-12T19:57:00.003-04:00

I neglected to mention that yesterday we passed the 3,000 mile mark. Our resident number cruncher revealed that, as of today, we’ve climbed 100,000 feet. That’s a number that’s hard for me to comprehend.

In spite of it all, today was a pretty good day. When I started, my legs felt exactly the same as they felt when I stopped yesterday, which is to say, not good. But after 15-20 miles, they came back to life. It was hot and humid, but there were a lot of trees shading the road and little traffic.

Do you remember my discourse about detours? There’s a kind I’ve never encountered before - the kind with a couple of pissed off construction workers saying, “You can’t go any further. Anyone who crosses a construction barrier in the state of Ohio is subject to arrest.” Oh well, the detour wasn’t that bad.

I hit the little town of Canal Fulton at mile 25. The town was established in 1826 to support the trade on the newly constructed Ohio and Erie Canal. I was drawn off route by the signs of a festival and discovered a period encampment and a canal barge. (See photo). Shortly after that, there was another farm with the “bioterrorist warning sign.” It didn’t make me feel any safer.

At mile 66, my rear derailleur cable broke. As a result, my bike was stuck in high (the hardest) gear. It was only ten miles to the second SAG stop, so I just gutted it out. One hill was just too steep to finish in high gear, so I walked the last twenty feet. I called ahead to the SAG stop, so when I got there, Gerard, super bicycle repairman, was only five miles out. I hung out, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and had some ice cream while I waited. The hardest part of the repair for Gerard was finding a new cable in the luggage trailer. After that, it was fixed in 7.35 minutes.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. I reached the hotel with 96 miles on my cyclo-computer, so of course had to ride two miles past the hotel and two miles back to make it my third centuray in three days.

Tomorrow I get to do it all again, probably (80% chance) in the rain. Whatever….

Day 41, 11 days to go, 103 miles, Wooster, OH

2008-07-11T20:33:00.008-04:00

Good news first: You might remember that on day 22 Bob took a spill, hit his head and ended up in the hospital. Well, Bob lives in Wooster and entered out dining room to a big round of applause. Everyone was very happy to see him and that he’s doing so well. Rob, who broke his collar bone on Day 35 checked in to let us know that they’d put in a titanium plate and he is doing fine. I guess now he’ll have to get a titanium bicycle.

A few specifics about the day: 103 miles, 15.0 mph, 7,800 calories. Although the weather was generally cool, the road was very hot. Some roads are paved by dropping crushed stone on tar. Where there’s bare tar, it grabs your wheels like one of those ghosts in the movies who reach out and try to drag you down to boogey man hell. After the tar grabs your wheel, it grabs the next bit of crushed stone it sees, so that your tire looks like a hot fudge sundae sprinkled with peanuts. (I have to stop and clean them off the tire.) Going through macadam is simpler, it’s like going through quicksand. My tires have literally sunk into macadam patches in the road. The solution to this is just to avoid macadam.

We’ve encountered several “road closeds,” “bridge outs” and simple “detours” over the last forty one days. Some are on our direction sheets (“Turn left to gate that says, “Road closed” walk around gate, ride 1.4 miles til end. Slide bike under wire fence, turn left and continue.” Or “Follow road until concrete barrier “road closed,” dismount, carry bike over barrier, cross I-70W, cross I-70E, turn left and continue on shoulder of I-70E.” Then there are the unmarked, unanticipated closings like the one shown in the picture. The question in my mind is always, “How closed is it?” “Is it closed to me?” and “How far out of my way will I have to go if it is really, really, closed. Today the road was moderately closed; the left lane had fallen into the river. The right lane looked strong enough to hold me and my bike, so it wasn’t closed to me. I didn’t have to go out of my way.

“Mr. Tomato Head” lives in a small café in Frederictown (where their “small” sub is nine inches long). I guess with the outbreak of tomatoe-associated salmonellosis and the FDA warnings against tomatoe consumption, the cafe had to figure out creative things to do with their tomatoes. How humiliating, Mr. T. would surely be happier on a sub.

After dinner I took a little walk to get some exercise and was drawn to the town square by the sound of gospel barbershop quartet. It was the 11 th Annual Wooster Hymn Sing. The quality of the music was excellent, and not having been in church for 40 days, it gave me some spiritual solace. I didn’t agree with the theology that was preached between hymns, but the hymns and the music rang true.

Tomorrow’s ride will be very similar to today’s but a few miles shorter. Then it will be 10 days to go.

The whine: Today is day 41, there are 11 more days to go. I just have to gut it out and get through them. The ride is hard now. There is no more novelty to it. The scenery is beautiful but repetitive. There’s not much banter among the riders. The riders are all talked out. We know each other’s life story, views on religion and politics and favorite movies and books. So we're just grinding out the miles. It's important, but difficult, to remain physically and mentally focused. I can’t let up until the front wheel of my bike is in the Atlantic. I can do it.

A shout out for Elijah's Promise

2008-07-10T20:12:00.003-04:00

Hi, Tom, we would so appreciate a shout out in the blog. Are all invited to your party (the more the merrier) and if folks can RSVP that would be great :)

Details are:
Who: All of Tom's friends, family and colleagues
What: A Victory Celebration featuring our "Around the Country" appetizers and desserts prepared by the Promise Jobs Culinary School students
Where: 211 Livingston Ave., New Brunswick
When: Thursday, July 31 from 6 pm to 8 pm
Please RSVP if you will be attending to elijahs.promise@yahoo.com or (732) 545-9002 ext 126

Thanks,
Michelle

Note from Tom: In addition to good food, good friends, and good karma, the party will allow you to see first hand the workings of the culinary school. If you've been invited, please RSVP. If you haven't gotten an invitation, consider yourself invited. It will be a lot of fun.

Day 40, Marysville, OH, 105 miles

2008-07-10T19:05:00.008-04:00

Day 40? That means that there are only twelve days left. It seems unbelieveable that I've been riding so long. From the blog, you know that it's been a true once-in-a-life-time experience, but I, like most of the other riders, am ready to go back to my normal life. I wonder what that will be like....

Today was another day in bicyling paradise. The farms in Ohio are smaller family farms with farm houses right out of a Norman Rockwall painting. The scenery is varried; fields, forests, small towns. The route was mostly flat, but with enough hills thrown in to keep me honest. At lunch time, we found a nice cafe whose owner happened to be the mayor. So we had a nice talk about life in small town America. The mayor made me a great frozen mocha late; it provided both the sugar and caffeine required for the next 50 miles. We're staying in a Super 8 hotel which is much nicer than I extected, and ate at the Bob Evans down the street, which was exactly what I expected.

Today's photogallery: 1. Crossing the state line. 2. Sue, who I was riding with most of the day, was ahead of me when the train crossing bells started to ring. "I think we can make it, Tom." she yelled, but I'd already slowed down, so I stopped. It turned out to be a very long train. I was very bored waiting for it to finish. I should have listened to Sue. 3. A picture of by buddies waiting to order at the cafe. 4. YES, A NEW VIDEO. This one is of my legs doing about 100 rpm, my normal cadance.

Now, please conduct the following thought experiment and then follow my instructions:

a.) place your imaginary camera with its imaginary viewfinder up to your eye.

b.) Put your finger (the real one, not the imaginary one) on the imaginary shutter button on the top of your imaginary camera.

c.) (this is the key part) slowly let your arm arc down as if you were taking an imaginary picture of your real knee.

What position is the imaginary camera in?

If you've done the experiment properly, the imaginary camera is upside down.

That is exactly the position my real camera was in when I took the video. Thus, the video image is upside down and not nearly as impressive as when it is right side up. Now I imagine that there is some computer software out there that would allow someone really good with computers to flip the video image 180 degrees. But I'm not that guy. There are several "work around" solutions. If you are using a lap top like I am, you can just turn it upside down -the the image will be right side up. If you are using a desk top computer, you can very carefully turn the monitor upside down. (Ask a grown up for help). Or, you can stand on your head when you watch it. Now that I think of it, all of this is a lot of work to watch ten seconds of my legs spinning. Maybe you should just imagine it.... Oh, if you've very observant, that scrape on my leg is from a table, not a fall.

Tomorrow will be a 104 mile day with an elevation gain of 3,000 feet. I'll be going back to Bob Evans for breakfast, rather than availing myself of Conti at the hotel. Every day the cue sheet gives us details on breakfast and dinner. Conti is almost always a breakfast choice. So for 40 days I've been trying to figure out who this Conti guy is, or how Conti Cateerers manages to follow the route, or what. Duh.... "Conti" breakfast is "contenental". Bad case of bike brain.

Day 39, 73 miles, Richmond, IN

2008-07-09T21:18:00.003-04:00

It was what we call a short 73 miles. That is, the route was pretty flat, the wind was at our back, and it was all on one road. I left Indianapolis at 7:30 a.m. and was in Richmond by 1, and that was with stops and lunch. I felt particularly good about leading a pace line through a tricky stretch of shoulderless construction zone. I was careful but confident. That's a big deal to me because I don't usually get out front in a pace line. But with the wind at my back, today was my day.

We got in so early that I was able to take a nap, read a book, shop at WalMart and get a haircut. There was a hairstylist at WalMart, but I couldn't bring myself to go there. So I had it cut at the mall.

The America by Bicycle trailer is an iconic part of the trip. It can be stopped by the side of the road with Michelle reminding us to take on more water. It's the big bill board for a SAG stop- that means fresh water, fruit, rice kryspy bars, oreos, granola bars, and if we're lucky, a potty. So when I crest a hill and see the trailer in the distance, I get very happy. The trailer also carries all of our luggage. When we "load," it's into that trailer. It also has tires, tubes, pumps and other important bike stuff. At the end of the day, there are usually lots of hotels near the intersection, so when I see the trailer in front of a hotel, I know that it's my hotel. The ABB trailer has become an important part of my life.

In contrast to the bleak dried out and about to blow away small towns of Kansas and Missouri, the small towns in Illinois and Indiana are attractive and harken back to another time. Real main streets with real people with real houses that are not built using cookie cutters by Hogmainian. When I ride through a small town with its cute little college, I fantasize about what it might be like to live that kind of life.

Final notes on Indianapolis

2008-07-08T21:20:00.002-04:00

This has been the best rest day since the beginning of the trip. Perhaps because I actually got two rest days, but also because of the classy suite hotel, its in town location, and the fact that Indianapolis is such a neat town. This afternoon I felt like I was on vacation!

It's thundering and lightening now. Better now than in the morning. The next several days will be rough riding with mileages of 73, 105, 104, 91, and 96 miles. Then we get a rest day in Erie, PA. The next rest after that is the end of the trip!

Day 38, Indianapolis, rest day, 20 miles

2008-07-08T17:09:00.011-04:00

Yes, I know what you're thinking; it's a rest day, why the 20 miles? Well to someone who rides 80-100 miles a day, 20 miles is a rest day! Seriously, there were several things I missed yesterday that I really wanted to see, so Sue, Danny, and I set out to see them.

Riding into the Indianapolis Motor Speedway on my bicycle brought back pleasant memories of my youth. As noted earlier, my high school marching band marched (after all, it is a marching band) around the track in May of 1971. It was quite a thrill then, and something of a thrill now. We took the $3 van tour around the speed way, complete with recorded narration. For the $25 tour, they let you get out of the van and walk on the speedway, and took you back to gasoline alley, and up to the press box and stuff like that. Not quite worth the extra $22. Anyway, I got to see the skid marks on the track and the big dents in the retaining wall where they hit. That was pretty cool. (No joke.) Dan and I also went into the museum that had the winning car from just about every race since 1909. Early on, the safety precautions were pretty primitive; it would be like riding a motorcycle in a tee shirt wearing a bicycle helmet. (If you are new to the blog, this cross references to the Peublo rest day.)

The Major Taylor Velodrome was even cooloer. It was only another 5 cycling miles away. If you don't know what a velodrome is, imagine the Indianapolis Motor Speedway shrunk down to bicycle size and banked to 28 degrees on the curves. There are only 20 velodromes in the US. There are olympic cycling events in velodromes. The let me take a few laps. (see picture) It was quite a rush to zip through those banked turns, at what felt like 50 mph. After three laps, my legs turned to jelly, I pulled into the infield, and checked by cyclo-computer; max speed = 24.6. Well it felt like 50. (Don't forget to double click on the pictures.) b/t/w, the track was so banked under the sigh that I couldn't get up it with my cleats on. Had to run up it barefoot and then swing one leg over the wall to stay up there..

By then it was two o'clock so we headed back downtown to find something to eat. After a near disastorous turn the wrong way down a one way street (we did get off the road immediately), we worked our way down to monument circle, had lunch at Au Bon Pan, completed our lap around the monument, and headed back to the hotel.

Then I had a shower and a nice nap.

Remember the Cause

2008-07-08T10:55:00.003-04:00

For all of you lurkers, newbies, and just "put it off til later" people, please remember that I'm riding for a cause, Elijah's Promise. You can learn all about these folks in the side bar to the right of the blogs. It would be really nice of you to make a donation if you can. To the so many of you who have already donated- THANKS!
Tom, the Pedaling Professor

Day 37, Indianapolis, IN, zero miles : - (

2008-07-07T16:32:00.006-04:00

If you’ve been reading the blog all along, you know that I’ll ride in the rain. I’ll even ride in a no-shoulder construction zone on I-70. But I won’t ride in thunder and lightening.

It thundered and lightening all night. It was still thundering and lightening at 6:30 a.m., when we were supposed to load. Our ABB guides tried to buy a little time by shuttling (the word for the day) us two miles to the breakfast place we were supposed to ride to. Still thunder and lightening. They shuttled us back to the starting hotel. The weather channel showed a massive storm system one hundred miles wide that had but a few breaks. As riders, our options were limited. ABB was going to hold back all the riders who still had hope until ABB had driven the route to determine if it was safe to ride. Anyone who wanted to shuttle now, could. The rest could stay put and hope that the weather changed, and if it didn’t, get shuttled later. George, one of our strongest and most experienced riders, got on the shuttle. Greg, a professional meteorologist got on the van. I, out of all prudence and caution, got on the shuttle. You guessed it, by the time the shuttle got to Indianapolis, the weather had cleared. So, I’m trying not to beat myself up. I made the best decision I could with the information I had. Yesterday I was 77 miles ahead of the official mileage. Today, I’m only 12 miles ahead. Tomorrow, those of us who shuttled will ride the route backwards to see the Indy 500 Race Track and Velodrome.

In my senior year of high school, the mighty Minuteman Marching Band traveled to Indianapolis to glory in the Indy 500 revelries. The big parade took place over a checkered flag motive street in front of the reviewing stand. I still remember how disorienting it was to march on that. It was not our finest hour. I passed the Indiana State Fair Grounds on drive in and flashed back to the utterly horrible dormitories that we stayed in there. My digs at the Staybridge Suites are 1,000 times better (and are the absolute nicest we’ve stayed in the whole ride. They even have *free* guest laundry). So I’d like to see the racetrack tomorrow. Just to look back into the past. The track is banked so hard to the left, that many of my friends wore out their left shoe, some wore out their left foot, to the point of bleeding.

Downtown Indianapolis seems to have been spiffed up with a football stadium, a base ball stadium, a minor league stadium, and a mall, much like you’d find in Baltimore or even Washington, D.C. Perhaps that’s what has to be done to save urban centers, but I mourn the homogenization of American culture. On the bright side, a few blocks away from the mall, I found “Ike and Jerry’s” “the fun place downtown” which had probably been there for 50 years. The décor was trashy diner, the tables resurfaced pinball machines, and the food, real down home. I had a pork tenderloin sandwich, which Skip tells me you can’t find anywhere but Indiana. They take a chop and beat it until it is a quarter inch thin and the size of a dinner plate. Then it gets breaded and fried and slapped on a fresh hoagie with some mayo, lettuce, and hopefully salmonella-free tomato. The tenderloin hangs off the bread by at least two inches on every side. The picture is what Ike and Jerry’s looks like after a few beers (or using a cruddy phone camera with no flash.)

Finally, Indianapolis is added to my list of state capitals along with Springfield, Salt Lake City, Independence, and Sacramento.

Day 36, 87 miles, Crawfordsville, Indiana

2008-07-06T21:23:00.004-04:00

Day 36, 87 miles, Crawfordsville, Indiana

15.0 mph average speed
6,100 calories

Total actual miles I’ve ridden on this trip so far = 2,748 (77 miles over the published mileage due to “off route excursions, extra miles to score centuries, etc.)

“Oh, what a beautiful morning.
Oh, what a beautiful day.
I’ve got that wonderful feeling.
Everything’s going my way.
There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow….”

That’s all I remember, but you get the picture. It was a beautiful morning. There was a bright golden haze hanging over the corn fields. The air was cool, albeit a bit humid. The roads were straight. We went off route (in this context, meaning “got lost”) for 5 miles, but 5 miles at the beginning of the day is no big deal, whereas 5 miles at the end of the day is. I rode with Jose, Dan, and Skip, who being from Indiana understood its geography and how the land is gridded out. Left to my sense of direction, I would have been back in Missouri. When we got to the “Welcome to Indiana” sign, we caught up with Gerard, Audrey, and a few others. We horsed around in front of the sign. I spread my arms in welcome, Skip stood on his head, and Audrey tried to stand on the seat of her bike.

We rode together until SAG Stop #2 in the little town of Veedersburg. There I had lunch at a very eclectic, and very good restaurant, “The Bus Stop.” Lee, the owner, cook, baker, and hostess exuded energy, and it wasn’t just her hot pink pants. Every thing in the restaurant was prepared fresh, from scratch. They’d just opened a bakery so there were homemade pies (strawberry rhubarb, boysenberry, almond walnut, cookie cheese cake) and bread (at least four fresh baked today). Lee is also a “cage fighter” (I’m not sure what that is, except that she got banged up and a broken cheek bone before her husband and employees asked her to please stop), and an exterior artist who paints houses vivid colors (in the San Francisco style) and paints/restores murals on the sides of building. So we talked a lot about what she does and what we do. (We were her afternoon rush). My chicken parm sandwich was the best. period. It wasn’t the standard breaded piece of preformed chicken on a stale hoagie roll dripping of jar sauce. No, it was a freshly breaded and lightly fried chicken breast with just enough home made marinara sauce to fill the mouth but not drip off the sandwhich grilled on freshly baked herbed garlic bread. Unfortunately, that left no room for pie.

Tomorrow’s ride into Indianapolis will be short (~65 miles) but with lots to do along the way. We’ll be able to tour a bicycle factory, checkout the speedway, and ride in a velodrome (indoor bicycle track).

Jeff, my buddy from New Zealand will be leaving us tomorrow. He’s ridden as much as he’s wanted to ride and is pretty excited to be going back home. I can relate to that.

Day 35, Champaign, IL, 100 miles

2008-07-05T20:35:00.004-04:00

The roads were smooth, the weather was nice, the headwinds weren't too bad. All in all, a pretty good day. Except that Rob crashed and broke his collarbone. He'll be going home. : - (
We've had six accidents, three requiring trips to the hospital. I've read that cyclists average one accident every 10,000 miles. So six accidents for 80,000 miles is a little below average.

Since there isn't too much to talk about, I'm posting two videos. The first is a hand-held (my hand) video of me riding. That I'm talking about my legs while the video shows my wheel is due to the fact that I can't use the viewfinder. (I'm riding the bike, remember?) So chalk up one more advanced cycling skill, taking videos while I ride. The other video trays to capture fields, which appear random, but when you hit the right angle, you can see them all in rows. I think that's pretty cool. Unfortunately, on the small screen this only shows up as a moving brown band. Still I've left the video in so that if you want that feel of riding across IL, you can play it again, and again, and again....

Day 34, 4th of July, Springfield, IL, 120 miles

2008-07-04T22:26:00.006-04:00

total miles to date = 2500!

We'd ride down Main Street of Liberty early in the day according to the route sheet. I conjured a vision of white houses with black shutters adorned with red white and blue bunting and of a flag lined street; something like the Main Street of Disney World. In reality, Liberty consisted of eight sad houses, and a church, bookended by two gas stations/convenience stores. I went in one to purchase my Gatorade. There were a bunch of farmers in their bibs and blue shirts sitting around complaining about fuel prices, discussing the cost of hay and looking askance at my spandex shorts and brightly colored jersey. I left quickly.

The ride was hard. There are no easy centuries. I need to eat real food about half-way through, but there was not to be had. Finally, about ten miles from town there was an A&W Root Beer. Jose and I stopped for root beer floats. There was some kind of festivities going on around the state capital, so we went off route to join the fun. My favorite was the "Red Wagon Parade," were little kids had decorated their wagons as floats and pulled them down the street. We stayed off route and stumbled on the National Park that contains Lincoln's Home. It was quite a fourth of July treat! I'd tell you more, but it's late and I'm tired. We also rode our bikes out to Lincoln's tomb. We didn't reach the hotel until 5:45, but it was worth it. What a 4th of July!

For the third hotel in a row, there was no laundry. I had to play white trash, wash it in the tub, and hang it on the pool fence to dry.

Day 33, Quincy, IL, 86 miles. East of the Mississippi.

2008-07-03T21:31:00.005-04:00

It had to happen eventually. There was no denying it. We couldn’t avoid it. We couldn’t wait it out. We couldn’t out run it. It was raining. Really raining, not a drizzle, not a spritz, real rain. In spite of our rain jackets, rain pants, and silly little helmet covers, we got wet. Rain clothes are always a crap shoot: you can not wear them and get soaked by the rain, or you can wear them, get overheated, and get soaked in sweat. You can simulate the experience by wrapping your legs in saran wrap, putting a Glad Hefty leaf bag over your torso, running around the house until you work up a good sweat, and then jump into the shower with the nozzle set on cold and “pummel.” Then try to read the time on your watch. (That simulates trying to follow your odometer so that you don’t miss a turn.) Sound like fun? Stay there for 15 minutes. I got used to the after a few hours (at which point it curiously stopped). I never got used to the hills. They were unrelenting.

But still, I made some interesting observations on small towns. There are a lot of towns with populations of 147, 123, 12 (no joke). The prominent feature of one of these towns (population 153) was a Freemason Temple, An Oddfellows Lodge, and a Moose Whatever. How can a town of 153 support three fraternal organizations? Then there are the Shriners. I’ve always admired the work Shriners do in their burn hospitals. But remember those big “Firework Sale” tents a few posts back? One of them was sponsored by the Shriners. What’s the deal with that? Have they fallen below their burn victim quota? Our Irishman, Richard, is from Tripararee (sp), saw from the map that there was a Tripararee about eight miles off route, and road out for some hometown pictures. When Richard got to Tripararee , it really wasn’t there, except on the map, and except as confirmed by his GPS. He knocked on a door and learned that all but two homes had been vacated, and that the town was now called “Midland,” since it was the major employer (that is, the huge agri-industrial giant, Archer Daniels Midland). ADM aside, what will happen to American agriculture as these small towns dry up? “One Kansas farmer feeds 147 Americans” according to the sign by the road. What happens when that farmer, and ten or a hundred like him all leave the farm? They certainly don’t have enough votes to make a difference…. Brazil will probably be the world’s new bread basket. Fields bigger than our Midwest with a climate that supports three harvests a year. How will we compete with that? America is no longer a manufacturing company, no longer has an Agricultural economy, and as anyone who has ever tried to make human contact to get help with a computer problem knows, we’re failed miserably as a service economy.

That’s the kind of commentary you get when I’ve ridden 86 miles in the rain up and down hills with a head wind.

Crossing the Mississippi after all the flooding was a challenge. Cyclists crossing that great river pump a fair amount of money into the local economy, but the bridges were either wiped out or dangerously full of trucks and campers. So we followed the special cyclist crossing signs (picture). The new cyclist crossing takes advantage of the fact that three things happen when a river overflows: it spreads out over a large area, becomes very shallow, and slows down. So we climbed the debris-strewn bank, hooked our bikes to the “save line” (the thinking being that if a rider slipped, the bike would be saved. The rider could probably swim to shore), and then waded across the Mississippi. It worked well since we were wet from the rain any way. There was some discussion about tetanus shots, and those who were so inclined stopped at the “Minute Clinic” in the CVS. I’m pretty sure that mine is up to date.

On the other side of the Mississippi lies Quincy, quite a handsome town with Maine Street (no, not Main) lined with mansions that in any other town would be a bed and breakfast, a funeral home, or lawyer’s offices. Stone, brick, with the porticoes that old carriages must have entered; ornate columns and masonry; one strewn with flowering plants up all three stories and then in the corners of the gutters. They were concentrated near the center of town, where the money and power were. As I rode to the outskirts of town, the homes became more modest.

The fact is that ABB shuttled us across the Mississippi in vans. But that isn’t a very good story, is it?

Day 32, Kirksville, MO, 92 miles, 99 hills.

2008-07-02T17:38:00.003-04:00

From the moment I woke up, I knew it would be a good day. I was fresh and rested, having gone to bed at 9 pm and waking up at 6 a.m. There are days when I wake up tired, they are invariably, not good days. The Best Western’s breakfast spread was minimal, so we were given the option of breakfasting at the McDonald’s across the street. I took the option and had the high end “Deluxe Breakfast Meal,” three pancakes, scrambled eggs, biscuits, a sausage patty, and hash browns. It was really too much to eat, so I gave my hash browns away. Off on the bikes, it was starting to rain, a light drizzle with the fresh clean smell of Irish Spring. The rain, (and thunder, and lightening) played cat and mouse with us for about thirty miles. Then the weather won and, well, we got wet. It wasn’t a pouring rain, just enough rain to show us who was boss. It only lasted ten miles. **Carbon fiber bikes make a distinct sound when they crash, something like the sound of a laundry basket full of large plastic toys being pushed off the back of a Ford 350 pickup truck.** When I heard this sound coming from behind me, I knew someone had wiped out going around the bend on the rain-slickened road. Fortunately, he was ok. It's not a sound you want to hear.

We were warned that today would be a hard day. We would ride through part of the “Thousand Hills State Park.” Do you think that’s a promising place to ride? It wasn’t so bad, we only rode through part of the park, and only did 99 hills today. The total climb was about 4,000 feet. It was made much easier by having Jose as my riding partner. Jose is a strong rider, and we kept the same pace swapping the lead going up and down the hills. (Truthfully, he took more of the leads than I did, but that was his choice). Having a riding partner keeps me from getting lazy. Jose is also a gentleman rider, calling out hazards, cars, bumps, etc. and rides very predictably. Someone like this is a pleasure to ride with.

Day 31?! Take that, Tour de France

2008-07-01T21:19:00.001-04:00

Note well, the Tour de France is only 29 days long.

Day 31, 90 miles, Chillicothe, MO

2008-07-01T21:05:00.001-04:00

Two flats before I got out of the hotel driveway, an inauspicious start. Sarge whipped into action with the first tube, but then I got a pinch flat*. Before you could say “pinch flat,” Gerard had stepped in and changed the tire in 47.6 seconds. He makes it look easy. So I was the last one out, which means I ride alone until the first SAG stop where we regroup. But the air was cool, the wind was still, the roads well-paved and the rolling hills had more colors of green than the Sherwin-Williams custom color chart. So one can choose, be bummed about the bad start, or enjoy the cool air, paved roads and many colors. While my choice was the later, the hills were really grinding it out of me. Until I reached Jamesport, a small Amish town, around lunch time. I had lunch in the Amish restaurant with Skip, Don, and Jose. We shared sandwiches so that we could have pie. Why are the Amish so famous for their pie? I don’t know, but they make one heck of a pie. The pie turned my day around. Skip, Don, Jose, and I rode the last 30 miles together. With friends at my side, and pie in my belly, the rollers weren’t so daunting.

Today’s Best Western has hit the trifecta. There are a Golden Corral, a Dairy Queen, and a Walmart next door. I’ve also gotten one of the deluxe pool-side rooms (perhaps because my roomie Gerard is on staff?) which gives me prime drying fence access and the ability to watch my laundry dry from the comfort of my room.

*There are many types of flats: the “hotel flat” occurs in your room during the night when tiny punctures take here cumulative effect; the “radial flat” caused by those steel thread in “steel belted radial retreads” that explode along the highway, the classical “puncture flat”, and the “bad valve stem flat”. All of these different types dictate a different course of action in replacing or repairing the tube and or tire. It’s too technical to go into now.

Day 30, No Miles! Rest Day, St. Joes, MO

2008-06-30T17:14:00.004-04:00

This will be brief because I'm supposed to be resting. (That's why they call it a rest day). I slept until 8:30, had breakfast, and then joined the bike wash party. In the close up photo you can note that I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty as I clean every link on my chain. A clean link makes for a happy chain. A happy chain makes for a smooth bike. A smooth bike makes for a happy cyclist. If you double click on the picture, you can also see the equisite pattern of the carbon fiber that comprises the frame stay. The Beach Boys music, towel snapping game, and "accidental" overspray make Bike Wash Party a blast.

My good friend Rosanne was out this way for a family wedding, and has dropped down to visit. As much as I enjoy the corps de riders, it's really nice to spend time with a friend from back home. Rosanne lives in New Hampshire and is in charge of festive arrangements for day 52 (the end of the ride.)

We went to see the home where Jesse James was "assassinated" (as his devotees like to say). It was his home and nicely preserved. You could see the bullet hole from the bullet that supposedly went through his head. Many, many, portraits of Jesse were displayed in the house. He was quite dapper and liked to have his picture taken. His rattlesnake ties was also exhibited.

Next to Jesse's house is the Patee Museum, collection remarkable for both its quality and quantity. I'm too tired to write about it, so follow the link.

Day 29 "Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." St. Joe's MO (90 miles)

2008-06-30T16:28:00.007-04:00

We rolled out of Topeka through the State Capital area. It looked pretty much like any well groomed down-town state capital, even perhaps like Trenton if the decaying brownstones magically disappeared in a storm of urban gentrification. But I digress. The town as we continued out was full of larger two-storied houses with porches and rockers sitting up on manicured lawns. Not unlike the town of Somerville in NJ where I grew up, or most of small town America in the 50s. Small town America in 2009 is in trouble, half closed, half boarded up, half in bad need of paint. (Yes, I know that that is more than 1, but give me some poetic license.) As we continued out into the country, we smelled honey suckles for several miles, but couldn't find the flowers. At least, we stopped and smelled them. : - ) There were also orange day lilies. They grow profusely in NJ, along River Road and along Canal Road. They reminded me of home, and how I'm starting to miss it.

Many houses were decorated with red white and blue bunting, had their flags out, and were otherwise decorated for the upcoming 4th of July Holiday. They take these things much more seriously than we do. The "tent sales" also testify to this. There are *lots* of big tents along the highways, and smaller ones in back yards and next to farm stands. All dedicated to the evil forbidden to us in the more populous eastern states- FIREWORKS!! (Kaboom) Every ER doc, plastic surgeon, and burn specialist between the Rockies and Mississippi is scheduled to work on July 4/5 with the hope of reconnecting blown off fingers, restoring sight to fireworked eyes, and sewing up M-80 lacerations with the minimum of scarring. (I've noticed some spandex clad guys on bicycles sneaking out from these tents.)

The Missouri River is still fast and swollen with debris from the floods where we crossed it. It would have been nice to stop and enjoy the view, but the river crossed in an industrial area where there were lots of trucks and hasty cars trying to use one of the few open bridges in the area. The bridge was a two-lane patch work of concrete and metal grid with no shoulder that screamed "crash, crash." We had no choice but to ride in the lane, and the cars had no choice but to ride behind us. It was one of the few times on the ride when people yelled nasties at us.

The topography changed as we entered Missouri. There were beautiful green rollers... and a very strong head wind. Not what you want to pick up at the 50 mile mark of a 90 mile day. If you double click on the road picture, you'll get a better idea of why I have rollers. When I added all the "ups" together, they equal 4,000 feet of climb today. Now Chris once told me that since rollers have an equal amount of downs, it should cancel out. It doesn't. The downs are free, the ups you have to pay for.

The ride into St. Joes was through the very pleasant Southwest Parkway, a well paved, lightly trafficked road that traversed the park. We were surprised by Steve and Hazel, cycling enthusiasts who set up a refreshment stand in their yard for us. They'll also be running a shuttle service tomorrow to take us to bike shops and such.

Day 28, Topeka, KS, 108 miles

2008-06-28T21:02:00.004-04:00

"Anticipating your every need." is one of those meaningless slogans that can really aggravate a traveler, but oh the Holiday Inn Topeka- they got it right. I knew this hotel would be good before going through the front door. The hotel put a hose and a big pile of bike washing rags right outside their main entrance. What a welcome sign! We could take care of our bikes. Inside, it was clear that they wanted to take care of us, too. They put out a pile of towels and a refrigerated case of water and fresh fruit.

We had three accidents today when cyclists slipped on railroad tracks that where sharply angled across the road. Fortunately, only first aid was required. The "priceless" moment of the day came when Forest's wife and son walked through the door of a little restaurant he was resting in. They flow from Baltimore, through Atlanta, to KS City airport, drove to our hotel, and then back-tracked our route to take him completely by surprise.

Eastern KS remains pastoral and emerald green befitting of OZ (or Ozian, as I like to say) ; - ) . We've evaded (not outran) several thunderstorms and remain amazingly lucky with the weather. I mentioned a few days ago the debate concerning what to do with the bike in the event of a tornado. There are two options: 1. Put your bike on top of you to afford some extra protection. 2. Put your bike under you to afford it some extra protection. The group was evenly split as it which was better, but all agreed that no one can outrun a tornado.

Tomorrow we leave Kansas and enter Missouri. You can expect the obvious quote.

Oh yes, in addition to being Day 29, tomorrow is Sunday. It's more than a month since I've been to church and miss it; especially my friends at Emanuel Evangelical Lutheran Church in New Brunswick. I'm hoping, that by some act of grace, my route will take me past a church at service time. If it's a Lutheran Church, it will undoubtedly be Missouri Synod, but that would be ok.

Good night from Kansas. Thanks for following the journey.

Day 27, Abilene, KS, 69 miles Half Way Home

2008-06-27T17:16:00.004-04:00

Today I reached another milestone. I passed the half-way "in miles" mark. That put a big smile on my face. Gary, a retired accountant has been gathering data and doing calculations for days. He's determined that, as a group, we've:

ridden 70,400 miles
made 2,100,000 pedal strokes
spend 4,500 hours riding,
climbed 61,000 feet
expended 4,900,000 Calories
had 117 flats
worn out 17 tires
and 30% of the riders were hit by the stomach virus

A few miles out of McPherson, we made a left, rode through Canton, and the world exploded from the tans and browns of the last few days into an Ozian brust of emerald- just like the movie when it turns from black and white to color. Grass ran up to the shoulder of the road. There were groups of trees, small forest of trees on rolling hills that reminded me of rural PA. Best of all, we had a tail wind that blew us all the way into Abilene.

Abilene is the boyhood home and now site of the Eisenhower Center. Next to his crypt is engraved this section of his speech, "A Chance for Peace."

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms in not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its
scientists, the hopes of its children.
Dwight Eisenhower

Technical problems are screwing up the font, but you get the idea

Day 26, 26 Days to Go, McPherson, KS, 62 miles

2008-06-26T21:21:00.004-04:00

Kansas is starting to green up a little, trees are a regular part of the landscape, and there is enough humidity to produce a faint glistening on my arm. The oil rigs (see picture) dot the landscape every mile or so. There are usually one or two 50 gallon drums next to the rig, so they can’t be pumping much oil. But at $100/barrel, it has to be worth it for the farmer.

A day in the life: In the absence of anything exciting today, here’s a small glimpse into my daily routine - and it has become pretty much of a routine. The early morning can go either way, breakfast than load, or load and than breakfast. I like breakfast first because it gives me more of a chance to remember anything I need from my luggage. If we load first and I remember something I need, I’m s.o.l. Breakfast varies. Holiday Inn Express puts out a pretty nice spread of scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits with gravy, pastry, cold cereal, hot oatmeal, juices and fresh fruit. On the other end, some generic budget hotels (which remain nameless to avoid litigation) put out a carton of milk, a box of cereal, some day old bread, and a toaster. In this case, ABB provides other options like Denny’s, Perkins, or Patio Pancake Palace (referred to earlier). Take out the bike first, or take out the luggage first? That’s another variable. I always take out the bike first, again because it give me one last chance to take something from the luggage. “Load.” That’s why we call it “load.” We load the luggage into the trailer, sign in on the roster (so no one gets lost behind), pump up our tires to 110 or 120 psi, and ride away. Note that we pack and unpack 47 times during the trip. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.

Riders sort themselves out in the first few miles, by ability, by friendship, by complimentary jersey colors, or whatever. We ride. Recently the navigation has been so simple that not even I can get lost. Cue sheet:” turn out of hotel onto US 50E, ride XX miles, get off US 50E and turn into hotel”. Little towns that have food or facilities, warnings to cross rail road tracks, and the location of SAG stops are noted.

SAG stops occur once or twice a day, depending on the length of the ride. The big ABB van is at a state rest stop, a gas station “with facilities” or just pulled off on the side of the road where there are a few bushes. We sign in on the roster, take off our gloves, sanitize our hands, fill our water bottles and nosh on bananas, oranges, peanut butter cracker sandwiches, granola bars, fig newtons, salty snacks like chips of cheetos, or sometime special treats like rice crispy treats, cookies from home, or fresh shrimp cocktail (just kidding). There’s also a chance camaraderie and discuss how really strong we’re riding (when the wind is at our back) or how the ________ (fill in the blank: wind, hills, bad roads, heat) are horrible and make me wonder why I paid good money to do this. Then it’s more riding.

The next big question is “To lunch or not too lunch?” Early in the trip we’d find some nice local café and chow down on a mega-burger, jumbo mocha late shake, and a brownie. It takes lots of fuel to run this engine! It didn’t take me long to figure out that such a meal diverts blood away from my legs and to my stomach. I cut back to a shake or a sandwich, but our resident triathelete ultra cyclist convinced us that we should stick to food from the SAG wagon during the ride and pig out later. Now a coke or a slushie whose sugar is rapidly adsorbed is my ride meal of choice.

Once I get to the hotel, I either sign in the roster, s my luggage, and find my room, or if the room isn’t ready, ride on to get lunch (a mega-burger, jumbo mocha late shake, and a brownie). That’s the ride part of the day.

Post- ride usually consist of a shower and a rest. If I’m smart, a long rest. If I’m not, it’s off to find the laundry, clean and lube the bike, go shopping at WalMart, etc. Most of the time, it’s best to rest, even if it means washing the shorts and jersey in the sink and wearing them the third day in a row. (Many people do this, as shown by our laundry line in the picture.)

Dinner is always fun. I love to walk up to the wait staff and say, “Table for 40, separate checks please.” In the good restaurants, the managers have told the wait staff, there is a table for forty waiting and every thing runs smoothly. Good management (dare I say leadership) can have a profound effect. At our first Sizzler, we were treated like real customers. Each of us went to the counter, placed our order, asked for our drink, and ring up one very large tab. We were tired and hungry, the regular customers were not amused, and it took the waitress forever to take our orders. At the second Sizzler, the Manager came out, and had everyone follow him. Show of hands, chicken, steak, fist, or pasta? Show of hands, ice tea, lemon aid, coke, diet coke? He accomplished in 5 minutes what Sizzler 1 took 45 minutes to do. Similar things have happened in Golden Corrals. Then there are the managers who simply never bother telling the staff what they know is coming. Do you know a boss like that? Buffets seem to work best. The first casino one in Nevada was memorable. Some local Mexican and Chinese places have been good. Pizza Huts never seen to have their act together, but that seems to be true in NJ too. Is poor service part of their mission statement? The last two nights have been at Montana Mikes; you’d think they’d do a better job with steaks. There have also been some “catered” meals in hotel function rooms or in the hotel restaurant itself. All and all, ABA has done a magnificent job of lining up all theses restaurants in advance and making sure that the food is good and plentiful. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, America by Bicycle does a great job in all aspects of producing this ride.

After dinner, I retire to my room, lay out my clothes for tomorrow (so that I can get up and out in 15 minutes), blog and go to sleep. I usually go to bed between 9 and 10, but sometimes as early as 8:00.

Day 25, Grand Bend, 90 Miles

2008-06-25T16:57:00.008-04:00

Grand Bend, which has a WalMart, a, Sonic, a Burger King and a McDonalds, a Perkins, a Pizza Hut, and a bike shop that I never could seem to find, has it all over Dodge City which has two Chinese Restaurants, a Madas Muffler, , and the lamest museum of the trip.

If you want to know what Kansas looks like, read yesterday's post, it hasn't changed. Fortunately, there are some little historical sites that break up the landscape and give me a reason to stop beside, "Good Lord, I need a butt break" Today's petite pleasures was a tiny little church. Senator (and later president) Grover Cleveland gave the town a bell, but the town fathers had nowhere to put it, thought it should go in a church, so built the biggest church they could afford. It was the last thing Grover ever gave to the town. There are some crude parallels to Henry Rutgers' gift of a bell and $5,000 to what was then Queens College. The bell was hung in Old Queens, the college renamed "Rutgers" and that was the last thing Henry ever gave Rutgers (the college, not himself.) This is a somewhat sensitive topic with those who keep the official history of the University. My version is a better story than their version.

There was also in interesting museum of life on the Kansas prairie at the half way point between San Francisco and New York City. Unfortunately, we did not have the good sense to finish in NYC, so our half way point will come tomorrow. The museum is built around an actual sod house. They put a cement floor under it, and a new roof on it, but other than that, it's all original sod.

I haven't mentioned it before, but one of the intellectually interesting aspects of the trip is all the stuff I learned in grades 3-6 that I thought were totally useless, but now are not. For example, why the vegetation and climates on two sides of the mountain are completely different; how rivers change their course and why they are so curvey; the difference between immigration and emmigration; why some flowers always face the sun (they are heliotrophic), why smart farmers rotate their crops between corn and soy; and why anyone would ever build their house out of sod.

Today's mini-contest: What is the strange little building in the picture? It is made out of tin or sheet metal, and was about 15 ft back from the rail road track. You'll get some sort of prize if you're right, and I'll make you famous by posting the answer on the Blog.

Technical Note: Keep those comments coming. I haven't figured out how to respond by e-mail, but try to add a comment about the comments in the comment using the comment command in the comment section. (With apologies to Expos 101)

Day 24, Dodge City, KS, 52 miles

2008-06-24T17:01:00.005-04:00

It's Kansas. Looking out to the horizon as far as the eye can see is..... nothing. And when I see beyond that, there is more nothing. Well, maybe not nothing, nothing. Some things do show up again and again- perhaps they form the visual white noise that is nothing in Kansas. There are those insect irrigators crawling across the cornfields turning the brown to green. The brown is spotted with oil pumping rigs, suggesting that there is something of value under the grand, if not on it. There is cattle on the range, lots of cattle, even some long horns. Their lives then move to the stock yards where they are brought in off the range to be fattened up. The stock yards are amazingly large, running for miles along the road. They extend far beyond the distance we can hold our breath. This is very unfortunate since stockyards stink. They stink really bad. Really, really bad. It's hard to imagine how that stink turns into steak. So I guess if one pays attention, there is more than nothing in Kansas.

Today's ride was a delightful 52 miles, which gave us time to stop and read historic makers and see other sights. (Except Bill, who is very fast. On short days, he eats breakfast at our departure hotel and bullets to the next hotel to have a second breakfast before they stop serving at 10.) Grain silos towered over Cimarron, the last town before Dodge City. Cimarron is the home of Clark Drug and Ice Cream Parlor. "The real thing," it had an old fashioned soda fountain counter which we sat around and drank "Oprah Shakes." Seems she had been there and that was what she ordered. But Jeff wants to know why "Oprah Shakes"? Why not "Jeff Shakes"? She'd come in a car, big deal. He'd ridden a bike from San Francisco to get a shake! So the owner changed the name on the big board behind the counter to "Jeff Shake."

Dodge City itself is not a place you would plan your vacation around. imho, it is not even a place that a family in a car with broken air conditioning, three kids screaming in the back, and a carsick gerbil would detour 5 miles for a cool drink. But US 50 cuts right through Dodge City, our hotel is on US 50, and I can tell people that I ate at the Applebees in Dodge City and really liked it. (The trick being the ambiguous modifier. It was the Applebees that I really liked.) There are two pseudo-western main streets. The "free one" is mostly deserted, has a lot of empty stores (like "Jimmy's Acoustic Coupler Repair" and "Eight Tracks to Go"), but provides no place to eat or drink. The "main street" that is part of the museum and costs $7 is pretty similar, except that the defunct stores used to cell buggy whips or the wheelright shop. We are going on an excursion to "Miss Kitty's Saloon" (remember Gunsmoke?) which is supposed to be a little hokey, but much fun.

Good news: Bob, our fallen rider is ok. He posted on his blog to let us know that he had a fractured skull, but aside from that was doing well. Thank God for helmets. He'll be going home in a few days and visit us when he ride through his town in a few days.

The ride is starting to grind through riders. There have been visits to doctors, Medimerge, or even the ER for saddle sores, stomach issues, dehydration, minor cuts and abrasions. Fortunately, I haven't been there yet.

Day 23, 104 miles, Garden City, KS. Matt’s Birthday!

2008-06-23T22:06:00.005-04:00

Today my youngest child, Matt, is no longer a teenager. Congratulations, Matt for making it to 20. Matt is working this summer as an EMT for a transport company and in his first paid capacity as a Stage Manager.

The ride in brief: Everyone found today to be very difficult. The wind was behind us for the first 70 miles and then got ugly in our face as the day got hotter. We crossed into Eastern Kansas, which not surprisingly, looks a lot like Western Colorado. I crossed the little piss stream that is the Arkansas River. She looked spent, but I noticed that the levies were about 100 yards apart. She must get seasonal furry. The historical marker says that there have been battles over the water for hundreds of years, with at least five Indian tribes claiming Arkansas water as their own. We were on US-50 yesterday, and were on it all day today. It parallels the Santa Fe trail, and in parts, runs the exact same route. Off to the side of the road, there is a section where the rut marks from the wagons are still visible.

We went to the Golden Corral for dinner and will have breakfast there tomorrow. Then I went to the Target across the parking lot. Not that I really needed anything, I just wanted to be a normal person doing a normal thing. I bought a new pair of cargo shorts, a wicking tea shirt, and another pair of sun glasses, all if which, if not needed, were at least things that I could use.

Tomorrow we’re riding to Dodge City. At route rap, Andy told us about all the fun things we can do there. He also went over the procedure to follow if a tornado hits. Everyone had the same question, “But what do we do with out bikes?” (no joke)

Statistics: 103 miles @ 14.3 mph. 7,000 calories expended, 673 feet of climb : - ) current elevation = 2,690.

Day 22, 120 miles, Lemar, CO - An Anniversary

2008-06-22T21:18:00.004-04:00

Today is my Mom and Dad’s 62^nd wedding anniversary. I admire their constancy. Congratulations, Mom and Dad.

Water. I thought alot about water today. When we crossed the Arkansas River today, the frolicking flirting high energy maiden that cut through the canyon a few days ago had become slow, matronly, and swollen with silt. It would be dropped on a flood plain to birth the next season’s harvest. Water and the lack of it lie in stunning contrast; one side of the road lush, the other a barren dust bowl. The green/brown edge is sharp, the width of a hoe. You can see this in the picture where a circular arm irrigator (a sprinkler pipe fed with water from the middle that rotates slowly over the crop) delineates the circle of life (double click on the picture at right and you'll see the irrigation pipe parallel to the horizon. Outside its reach, nothing grows. Next time you fly over the country, look for big green circles in the dessert. That’s what I’m talking about. Land without water is worthless in Colorado. When you buy land, you have to buy water rights, or you have nothing but dust. I crossed the Arkansas River a third time. Half the former width and speed, she’d been bled for irrigation.

This is perverse, but I love the salt lines that form on my shorts and gloves. The salt is left as the perspiration evaporates to re-enter the water cycle. Lots of salt = a hard ride. The salt appears “magically” in Colorado; the air is so dry that sweat never appears, it is dried as fast as I can make it. This makes dehydration a real danger, since sweat is the usual clue to drink. So I drink by distance. Every 5 miles, I take a swig. The water in my bottles, though warm as temperature-abused food in a cheap buffet, goes rapidly. There are extra sag stops so that we can keep them filled. Arriving at the hotel, I plopped directly into the pool. The water was good.

I also thought about what makes for a “difficult ride.” In spite of the distance (120 miles) or the time (I started at 6 a.m. and hit the hotel at 3 p.m.) today was not a particularly difficult day. If it hadn’t been for the heat, it wouldn’t have been difficult at all. At first approximation, Ride Difficulty (RD) can be see as:

RD = x(distance) + y(wind) + z (grade*length of climb) + a(temperature) +

b(precipitation) + c(RD of previous day)

where the letters are weighting factors which remain to be determined. This is the crudest of models since there are significant interactions (wind) (grade*length of climb). It would take a real modeler like my collaborator, Prof. Schaffner, to figure this out, but we can’t publish it or use it as preliminary data for a grant application, so it won’t get done. I do have full data for several rides in my Garmand cycle computer. Perhaps we could have Silvia work it up as part of her PhD qualifying exam….

The longest single day ride I’ve ever done is 130 miles. The 120 I rode today is within striking distance. I thought of riding extra miles to break the record, but once I got to the hotel, I decided to let the record stand.

I've just discovered that I can specify fonts and have changed from Courier to Arial, my favorite font. Does anybody care? Use the comment function.

Very bad news: A few miles before sag stop #2, one of our riders, for no apparent reason, fell over and hit his head on the pavement. He was rushed back to Pueblo by ambulance and is now in ICU. Please say a little prayer for him.

Day 21 We Rest, Chris Visits

2008-06-21T21:46:00.008-04:00

Caption: This is the route down from Monarch Pass, note the winding road we rode.

Today (Saturday) It was really good to sleep in. 7:30 seemed so late. I ate at the hotel breakfast bar, which was pretty minimal, but after breakfast out for so many days, a bowl of hot oatmeal and cup of coffee was more than ok. Then it was time to wash my bike, clean the drive train, and lubricate. The woman at the desk was perplexed when I asked her if there was a spigot somewhere outside the hotel that we could use to set up a bike wash station. She had no idea and went off to find the maintenance man. Jeff was washing his bike and told me there was something on the tire that he couldn't scrub off. It was the cords! He'd worn through the rubber.

Around 11:30, Chris came rolling in on his motorcycle. My cycle friends were all happy to meet him and commented on the familial resemblance. Chris suggested that, to get around, I bicycle and he follow behind on the motorcycle, but I had a better idea. I just wore my bicycle helmet. Him in front with long pants, a protective jacket, leather gloves, and full face mask helmet. Me in back in shorts, a windbreaker, and a bicycle helmet. Sorry, no photos were taken. Chris and I went to a steel foundry museum, which was very interesting and made me glad that I didn't live back then. (Unless I could have been John Rockefeller who owned a majority share. Living back then would be ok if i were Rockefeller.) Then we went to see the Indiana Jones movie, which was, well, amusing. Harrison Ford is a bit too old for the role, many of the scenes were obviously on a set, and all of the left over special effects from the first two Indiana Jones movies were taken out of the box to use in this one. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Then we had dinner, and Chris sped off to Denver. It was really great just to have some time with Chris, and even more so when I'd been away from home for so long.

Important note: I may not post every day. We have a lot of long rides coming up and if the choice is between an hour of blogging and an hour of sleep, Sleep will win out.

Tomorrow we load at 5 a.m. Up at 4:30, eat after loading, hopefully on the road by 6:30.

Additional Image - Salida

2008-06-21T13:06:00.001-04:00

Day 20, 100 miles to Pueblo Co- Royal Gorge

2008-06-21T01:05:00.004-04:00

The day had it’s up and downs, as most do. Load time was posted as 5:30, so we were up at 5:00, but for the first time on our trip, Andy, Michelle, Chirstine and Gerard were not cheery and peppy. There were trying to get a handle on the norovirus situation. A quick count of bicycles on top of the sag wagon told the story. Ten. Ten of us were too sick to ride. They’d be shuttled directly to Pueblo, we’d go to breakfast at the Patio Pancake Palace. It didn’t open until 6. There was some talk about just going to McD’s but Michelle insisted that PPP was worth the wait. PPP had its act together. They’ set up another one of those “table for 30” and one waitress worked the table better than Bill Clinton worked the rope line. Erica got all our drink orders right, kept the cafs and the decaf straight when she refilled, and brought every order to the right rider as it came out of the kitchen. ABB picks up the 15% tip on all our meals, but we each kicked in an extra dollar to give her and extra $30. And a big round of applause. It’s always a pleasure to watch people who are good at what they do. I had scrambled eggs and coconut buckwheat pancakes. They were so good.

There’s a special quality to riding out early in the morning. Wispy clouds scampered above the snow on the verdant mountain and cast clouds that dropped ground temperature by ten degrees. It’s been so long that I’d been that in touch; to feel clouds chill my glistening brow. On the left, the sky was cloudless, and the rising sun turned the snow on the mountain tops turned pink. We dropped into the Arkansas River Canyon and rode along its rushing waters and shear cliffs for more than an hour. The river was never more than 40 feet away. Even at the headwaters, this was clearly a mighty river. They say it takes the river one hundred years to cut through one inch of rock. The canyon was 200-300 feet deep at this point. It took a long time for the river to do its work. But when water hits rock, water always wins. There was a chunk of mountain (it’s too big to call it a rock) in the middle of the river. My first thought was, “I’m glad that I wasn’t around when that happened.” My second thought was that the rock cliff was more than 50 yards away, it must have been quite a fall. But maybe the cliff had been closer, and maybe that piece of mountain fell millions of years ago. Maybe there was no human to marvel at the fall. A humbling thought.

Gerard “strongly urged” us to go off route to see Royal Gorge, saying that there were but a few short hills on the way. We hiss sat Gerard now (good naturedly). It was four miles of uphill 11-16% grade, too high a price for what would have been a nice excursion if we’d driven. The Gorge had a 1950’s amusement park air to it. There was a little animal safari with deer, antelope, and a bored buffalo. There were merry go rounds, and vomit inducing rides for the more adventurous. Hot dogs, cotton candy, and ice cream. Oh yes, and the worlds highest wooden plank suspension bridge. It had been built as a tourist attraction and has remained such to this day. Between the planks, I could see 1.000 feet to the now oh so small Arkansas River.. Looking down over the side made my head spin, so I just kept my eyes front and waited until I was back on real ground to take a look.

The climb to Royal Gorge just took it our of me. There were 50 more miles to go. It was slow and hard, head winds and hills. I didn’t even stop for the prison museum. I finally got the hotel at 5:30 p.m.- twelve hours after load time. We had dinner at the Golden Corral. It was a good place to refuel.

Chris is coming up from Denver to see me tomorrow. I’m looking forward to that.

We’ve now ridden 20 days and over 1400 mile, we’re more than a third of the way there.

(Tomorrow is a rest day, there will probably not be a post.) Sunday will be the longest ride of the trip; 127 miles.

Panorama from Monarch Pass

2008-06-21T00:13:00.004-04:00

This sweep was pretty fast to reduce memory requirements. You can hit the pause button ll to stop it at any point. The scratchy sound is the wind howling around the camera.

Day 19, 67 miles, the Monarch Pass

2008-06-19T23:13:00.010-04:00

To summit the Monarch Pass at 11,332 feet is to be filled with emotion. Deep swallows, big breaths, what is this all about? Relief that the pain has ended? Pride that the mountain has been conquered? A bit of regret that the hardest part of the ride is over? That a big part of the ride in now in the past? The ten mile climb that starts at 7,500 feet is both painful, and picturesque. I’m not sure why the assent was so hard, but all the riders agreed it was. The 7 and 8% grade was no worse than Donner Pass, but the Monarch climb is long, and the air is thin. **The switchbacks are like the lines at Disney World, just when you think you’re reached the end, you go around the bend and see more, and more, and more. When the speed drops to 5 mph and there is 10 miles to go, it’s easy to despair. Two more hours of climbing. But what I bought with that pain. Going that slow allows you to be part of the mountain. Stands of tall aspens cling to the side of the mountain. They must have deep roots. Their scent fills the lungs that are straining for air. Look down on the tops of the trees. Look down at the patches of snow as it feeds that stream that tumbles toward the Pacific. Rock falls from above and rocks falling to the valley below remind you that the mountain is a living thing.** A guided tells us that the water erodes the mountain and transforms it at a rate of 1/25th of an inch per year. This has been going on for a long time…

I’d gotten a slow start, so was one of the last riders to reach the summit. Other riders cheer us in. Food was very important at this point, so I went into the tacky shop where most of the other rides were already eating. (Jeff just said, “Give me one of everything.”) It was good to sit and refuel. The view from the summit cannot be described, hopefully, the pictures will help. There is snow on the mountains, green forests below them, lesser hills stretching out to the horizon. There is the look backward at the long winding road we cycled up (did I really ride up that?) Picture the long winding road floating down the other side of the mountain. No time for tree gazing and smelling the roses on the downhill. It’s too fast to do anything but watch the road and hang on. But that gets ahead of the game. There was another “life first” at the top of Monarch Pass. A gondola takes the rider to the very top of the mountain, another 700 feet, to an altitude of 12,000 feet. The gent selling the tickets asked me how old I was. It qualified me for my first ever “senior discount.” ; _ ( On the top, there was a big yellow line labeled “The Continental Divide” with “Atlantic” on one side and “Pacific” on the other. I straddled the line.

The day finished pretty fast. Riding down covers a lot more ground, much faster than the ride up. Our hotel in Salida was nondescript, but a few of us rode our bikes into “downtown” Sailda, a very chic on the rebound Western town. We found a nice bar with a porch hanging out over another raging river, but this one was heading toward the Atlantic! The beer was soooo good. Hopping on our bikes to check out the local bike shop, my tire went flat. Sitting on their steps, with the wheel in my hand, I couldn’t find the puncture site. Then I realized that, even though I could fix it, there was no reason that I should fix it at the end of this day. Such is the beginning of wisdom. The folks in the bike shop were happy to fix the flat for me. They did it for the price of the tube.

New blog feature- “The Whine.” I usually write the blog in chronological order, starting in the morning and than working through the day. However, as many of you know, I’m not exactly a morning person. In fact, I can be downright grumpy for the first few hours, and that’s how the blog often starts. I’ve realized that this may be a turnoff for those of you who want to read about my joyous romp across the continent and not my mishaps and misgivings. So, from now on, there will be a section, “The Whine” at the end of the post. If you don’t want to hear me whine, don’t read it.

“The Whine” The day started badly and rapidly got worse. We were supposed to ride out at 6:30, my alarm clock should have gone off at 5:30, but didn’t. I woke up at 6, time to scramble. Tire check- the rear went flat during the night! (Slow leaks do this.) The zipper of my windjacket broke as I tried to hustle my luggage outside. I got the tire off my bike, but couldn’t find what had punctured it. Running out of time, I put on a new tire but got chain grease on my new shorts. These were the least of the ride’s problem, there’s been an outbreak of norovirus (whoops, I’m sorry, that’s a stomach bug to you) among our group. At least 6 rides were sagging, two more were picked up on the mountain, too sick to keep on riding. Gerard put their bikes on the roof of the sag wagon.

Statistics: 68 miles at 12.1 mph. 3,124 feet of climb using 5,790 calories.

Note: have video from the summit that I'll try too upload tomorrow or on day 21.

Day 18, 65 miles, Gunnison, CO- Brutal butt, another unique day.

2008-06-18T21:16:00.006-04:00

No, I didn’t misplace the comma, my butt has been brutally abused. It made me understand “the Princess and the Pea” on a deep existential level. Was my butt going to terminate my traverse of the Rockies? Undaunted, I decided to swap saddles and put on my comfy seat. It screams “old man” but given the choice of looking silly (I was the butt of many jokes) or sagging over the Rockies, I went for the comfy seat. More problems, my “multi-tool” ( a cycling essential that has a bunch of hex wrenches, screw-drives, and a chain link breaker) broke! There were pieces all over the floor. Fortunately I found the piece I needed and got the new saddle on the seat. Then it was hills. Hills with headwinds. In the first thirty miles, we climbed from 5,700 feet to 8,700 feet to summit at Cerro Peak. The climb was very draining, not what I needed first thing in the morning. But then things got better, a lot better. The scenery was again, incredible. The Gunnison River roared by next to the road. I don’t know the categories of white water rafting, but this was all white. I wouldn’t want to go tubing in it. There was snow by the side of the road and a vista that extended into the horizon. It was really fun to infiltrate “Ride the Rockies,” which is Colorado’s version of RAGBRAI (yea, didn’t that help? Typical professor ploy, explain one thing by reference to a second thing that the person doesn't know). There were 2,500 other riders and an excellent rider to toilet ratio. I took advantage of one of their rest stops and bought a nice braut and diet pepsi (see picture). I mentioned before that riders talk to each other, especially on hills. There were very impressed that while they were riding the Rockies, we were riding the whole country. Oh, yes, the second 30 miles were almost all down hill. That was nice.

Once I checked into the hotel, I rode off to check out town and see if I could find a WalMart. Now I admit that at home, I avoid WalMart like the plague, but on the road, there’s no better place to find everything you need. I bought more sunscreen, a Colorado souvenir, a Starbucks Capaccicino, and compressed gas cartridges for inflating flats. Here’s the cost saving secret; at bike shops, the cartridges cost $2 each. However, they’re the same cartridges that are used in paintball guns. You can get 15 of them for $9 at WalMart! Then I came back to the hotel, washed me, washed my shorts, and watched two episodes of Star Trek with Gerald.

Statistics for the day: 65 miles with 3,900 feet of total climb. My average speed was 11.2 mph, and our elevation is now 7,712 feet.

Day 17: Pseudo-easy day, 72 miles

2008-06-17T23:36:00.004-04:00

They told us today would be easy. But with the temperature in the high nineties and 1,800 feet of climb, it was not. The heat is very dry, so you don't really sweat, but if you're a mouth breather (as I usually am), it's like riding with a blow drier aimed at your throat. "Parched, " that's the word I'm looking for.

Enough griping. I may have forgotten to mention Sue. Sue lives in Grand Junction, has made several trips with ABB, and met us at the first under pass (needed shady spot) past the Colorado state line to give us ice pops. Today Sue road us out to a scenic bike path that ran along the Colorado River. The Colorado is not as I imagined it. It's about as wide as the Raritan River (say in Raritan or Somerville) but runs very fast and looks very deep. Last week, it flooded over the bike path. The rest of the ride was on I-50 and was just about getting there. After the rest stop at mile 30, most of us struggled, but an self-initiated stop at mile 45 helped a lot.

"Ride the Rockies" a ride with 2500 riders starts here tomorrow and follows the same route we do. So the town is full of cyclists. There are two bike shops in town. I visited both of them, had a brake job, and got some gas canisters to blow up by tires.

Once at the hotel, we went on an excrusion to the Black Canyon. It was breath taking, with a 2000 foot drop down to the canyon floor.

That's it from Colorado.
Peace out.
Tom

Day 15, Grand Junction, 96+4 miles

2008-06-16T22:17:00.005-04:00

Our total official mileage (excluding extra miles when lost, etc.) is now 1,135 miles. Clearly, this is the farthest and longest I’ve every ridden. This is starting to get serious. The route mileage for today was 96 miles, but I couldn’t go that far without adding 4 more miles to make it a century. I thought a lot of people would be doing that, but was wrong. It must have been the heat, 107 F on the road. Andy told us we’d been using 2.5 of those big orange Gatorade tubs every day. Today we used 5 of them. ABB is very serious about keeping us hydrated. The sag wagon pulls over periodically so that we can refill our water bottles between sag stops. Dehydration can sneak up on you, since with the dryness of the air, you never really sweat. The highlight of the day was crossing into Colorado. We followed the Colorado River (picture) for the final part of today’s ride. The last picture is of the winding road as we look back. Don't forget to double click on it.

Tomorrow will be an easy day, about 70 miles into Montrose. We won’t be the only ones there. Two thousand five hundred cyclists will be in Montrose to start “Ride the Rockies.” It will be nice to follow their route since they have porta-potties and we don’t. The following two days will be among the hardest of the ride. The day after tomorrow, we’ll be climbing into the Rockies for 94 miles, going over two summits. The day after that, we climb to, and cross, the Continental Divide. After that, there will be no big climbs until we come East.

Day 15, 67 miles today, >1,000 total

2008-06-15T22:55:00.008-04:00

Sunday, June 15, 2008. “If you have a father, don’t forget to call him. It’s Father’s Day,” reminded Michelle as we went through the breakfast line. Michelle is the ride’s Mother Figure. She also tells us to put on sunscreen, drink lots of fluids, and to hop in the van if we’re not comfortable riding in the 60 mile an hour truck line down- hill wind-buffeting construction zone with no shoulder that’s coming up in a few miles. A few riders take her up on it. (It really wasn’t that bad, but I wouldn’t have known that if I hadn’t ridden it.) I went to bed at 7:30 last night, go up at 5:30 a.m. and am still tired. Breakfast was at 6 and we rode out at 6:30. We were in by 11:30 a.m. before the weather got hot and, knowing that the hotel rooms wouldn’t be ready yet, stopped at the Green River Coffee Company and Café (and Indian craft shop). The women who ran it were very nice and we enjoyed the eclectic décor and yummy food. I had French toast and a root beer float.

We were, as on every day, treated to new vistas that explode before us as we rode out of the canyon. ** We were out on the mesas where the hill’s striations ran horizontal, red, orange, brown, green at the bottom like a piece of spumoni laying on the plate that was the prairie floor.** A few hours after hitting the hotel, we took a (van) excursion to Arches National Park, about an hour from here. Arches is named “Arches” due to the huge land masses that have been eroded in the middle, but not on the arches. There are hundreds of such arches in the park as well as a variety of landforms I’ve never seen before. The park construction started about 150 million years ago when it was all under water on a salt flat. Sediment and erosion piled on top of the salt flats and as the water evaporated, a multi-layered land mass, much like a 14 layered mocha chocolate cake which gets eaten from the bottom by a picky kid until the layers collapse. It’s something like that. The salt lake can’t support the weight of the sediment, so it collapses too. Once the layers are exposed, they erode. There are other unique formations, some look like those sand castles made by dribbling sandy water over the mound. Other are very phallic, subjected to a poorly-executed circumcision. These land forms extend off into the horizon, where the (yes, snow capped) Rockies loom in the foreboding distance. We’ll be riding them soon. Tomorrow will be a long (97) mile day.

The Holiday Inn Expresses we’ve been staying in are quite nice. The rooms are large enough to accommodate two riders, their gear, and their bikes. They serve a decent hot breakfast, have a pool and whirlpool, and a laundry- an important piece of cycling support service. I never wear dirty shorts.

If you can't get the video to work, it's blogspot, not you.

Day 14, Running Against the Wind

2008-06-14T21:14:00.003-04:00

After 75 miles of uphill against headwinds, I’m too exhausted to blog.

The highlights: 3,100 feet of climb, 13.3 mph, 5800 calories.

The headwinds started almost immediately and reduced us to crawling up the very lush and very green mountains. Ironically, the wind turbines (windmills) in the adjacent field were turned off, so the wind was entirely malevolent. Our pit stop for the day was in a rec area bisected by a stream that was so cold, it had to be snow on the mountain only minutes before. It was the color sea foam as it rushed by. There were goats frolicking on the mountains yelling, “Matt, Matt.” We stopped at a general store where the proprietor pulled out his picture album and showed up his grandfather with Butch Cassidy (see above, Butch on left, grandpop on right). The waterfall was right next to the highway. Going off route, I had lunch in the little town of Helper. It sat beneath large rock outcrops that were crumbling a few feet from people’s back yard. The population is ~1,000 and the kids at the restaurant couldn’t believe I was from New Jersey, that it was so populous, or that I was riding my bike to New Hampshire. They were awestruck.

Day 13, Provo, Chris' Birthday

2008-06-13T19:21:00.009-04:00

The formalities: 67 miles, 12.4 mph, 5,990 calories, into Provo, Utah.

The good stuff: Chris is 30 years old today! Chris is our first born, so we made all our learning mistakes with him, but he turned out most excellent anyway. Born in Boston, Chris was a Boy Scout and played the cello, taking lessons from a doctoral candidate at Rutgers. What I remember best about his time at Rutgers was our Wednesday lunches when he was a senior. Chris also got “buffed up” and in great looking shape in his junior and senior year. When I inquired about it he told me that there was a fitness center in his dorm, so it was either that or go to class… After Rutgers, Chris worked as an IT guy and then sold his condo, left NY, and went to Duke Law School. Chris used his IT savy strategically at Duke, where he was Editor of the Law Review and graduated with high honors. Chris is now clerking with a Judge in Denver and will be staying there to work with a Denver law firm. Chris is a fearless mountain biker, an aggressive skier, and set up this blog. I know that fatherly pride oozes from this entry, but I can’t help it. I love him dearly and couldn’t ask for a better son.

It’s also the birthday of Karen Montville, the saintly wife of my ,Bob. In response to the “how did they meet?” question, I used to tell people that Karen was a go- go dancer at a bar that Bob frequented. Once go-go dancers went out of style, I’d tell people that she was a nun who Bob met on a retreat. More people believed the go-go dancer story. Karen kept me alive in college with periodic donations of food from the school lunch program that the kids wouldn’t eat. The canned chicken was so tough and stringy, that we had to put it through a meat grinder before we could turn it into “chicken slop,” “fried chicken slop,” or “re-fried chicken slop.” Karen’s and Chris’ birthdays were usually co-celebrated with a big back yard bbq that often included Father’s Day as well. Those were the days.

Happy Birthday Karen!

Today’s ride report: Most of today’s ride was, well, pretty dull. We rode out of Salt Lake City through office parks, then industrial parks, and then ** through residential areas that were totally nondescript, except for those mountainous mountains with their opaque reflective granular crystals (how many ways can one say, “snow capped mountains”?) that rose up in the distance like ant hills on steroids.** We passed the Olympic Skating Oval, but it was not picture-worthy. The cue sheet was long, the mileage was off, and the names of many of the streets had been changed. This led, imho, to some dangerous riding. It went like that for about 40 miles. Things became more interesting as we neared Provo. We created the lunch hour rush at a gourmet sandwich and salad place. It lived up to its name (the gourmet part). My Philly Cheese Steak has way better than any I’d ever had in Philadelphia. First of all, it was made of real meat, half inch squares, perhaps ¼ “ thick. They’d been grilled. The meat was lovingly embraced by a carefully seasoned cheese sauce that didn’t drip off the roll or run down your hand. All this was on a freshly baked crisp hot hoagie roll. Now Bob would probably say that this isn’t a Philly cheese steak, which should have “minute steak” meat analogs, a piece of processed American Cheese, on a three day old bun leaking of grease. I don’t care, it was good.

**The snow on the mountains rising over Provo were like fingers of French vanilla sauce running down a huge scoop of Chunky Monkey ice cream with cherries at the bottom. The cherries could only be Brigham Young University.** We detoured (or "went off-route" in cycle lingo) to cycle around the campus. As the pedaling professor, how could I not? The BYU campus had the well-groomed look of an Ivy League College, and exuded money the way a soft peach exudes juice on your new kakis.

I though that my real wheel was the tiniest bit out of true and brought it to Gerard during mechanic’s hour. He agreed, fixed it, and then as I walked away, hollered out, “come back, your water bottle cage is missing a bolt.” He has a really good eye.

There is a condition called “bike brain.” It usually strikes at the end of day’s ride and essentially robs one of the ability to have any thoughts that have to cross more than two synapses. I have it bad. The $^***@# electronic room key wouldn’t work. Jay (today’s roomie) tried and it wouldn’t work for him either. I took the card to the desk to complain, and they kindly pointed out that I was using a card from the Comfort Inn (where we were last night) and that my Fairfield Inn card (where I am now) might work better. They were very gracious. That key allowed entrance to my room where I proceeded to search for my dirty laundry bag. Couldn’t find it. Forgot it at the last hotel? Hmm, let’s see if I can find yesterday’ clothes. What did I wear yesterday? Nothing! No, I didn’t cycle nude, yesterday was a rest day. A rest day when I’d done laundry. Hence, there was no dirty laundry bad.

Wow, this is a long entry for a day when not much happened and I was in a low energy mood. Maybe tomorrow it will be short and sweet.

On the 12th Day, We Rested

2008-06-12T16:46:00.004-04:00

Yes, after 11 days and 835 miles, we get to rest, recharge, clean our bikes and do a little site seeing. The hotel set up a small bike cleaning station near the pool with a hose and old towels. The regular guests were puzzled.

A group of us took a van to Temple Square and got a great tour of the Tabernacle, where we heard the world's 12th largest organ. Ironically, the world's largest organ is in a department store in Philadelphia. I've heard that too. It doesn't seem right that it should be in a store. The pictures are of the Temple and of Jesus with the two sisters who were our guided. The Mormons, or more formally, the Church of the Later Day Saints of Jesus Christ, are Christians with a little bit extra stuff. I'm tired, so that's probably it for now. Tomorrow will be a short (65 mile) day.

Photos from day 9

2008-06-12T11:27:00.004-04:00

The Salt Lakes

2008-06-12T11:15:00.002-04:00

Today’s 117 miles were ridden with the wind at our backs and smiles on our faces. Contrary to the weather reports, the winds never swung around to sting us in the face. We left the Rainbow Casino at 6:45 a.m. and arrived at the outskirts of Salt Lake City by 3:00 p.m. Not a bad time with breaks and lunch. We’ve covered more than 835 miles since leaving San Francisco 11 days ago. And tomorrow is a rest day- we don’t ride!

The scenic highlights of the day were the salt flats. **If you didn’t know where you were and what you were doing, you would have sworn that it was the white of a frozen lake sliding out to the horizon, punctuated by brown islands reaching toward the cloud speckled sky.** It was quite unlike anything I’ve ever scene. The Great Salt Lake, for which Salt Lake City is named is even more majestic. On the horizon, the wave flecked water meets the sky. Closer up, a dry salt bed meets the shore. People walked a few hundred yards on the salt beds to reach the shore of the lake. But we were warned to resist the temptation to ride our bikes or even walk on the salt beds. The slat is so corrosive it would wreck a bike or rot out the cleats of a cycling shoe.

The Comfort Inn, Salt Lake City Airport is quite nice. There was a manager’s reception (a cold beer tasted especially good today), and they’ve set out a hose and a box of old towels by the pool so that we can wash our bikes. My laundry is done, so tomorrow I can just rest (after I wash my bike) and maybe do some sight seeing in Salt Lake City.

Day 10- blazing saddles, 107 miles

2008-06-12T11:10:00.006-04:00

Day 10 - Blazing Saddles - 107 miles

Note: I recently read Cold Comfort Farm, where the author set off what she thought were particularly good sections of writing between sets of ***. I’ll try this literary technique for a while.

Well, there was no post on day 10. Not because I’m exhausted, but because the Rainbow Hotel and Casino has no wireless service. This is the third “hotel and casino” we’ve stayed at. It will be our third buffet. They probably lose money on 40 cyclists who’ve been riding all day; we eat a lot. **To step into our room at the Rainbow is to step back in time. A black velour “chair rail” (or perhaps extended headboard) wraps around the room. The furniture could be described as “retro” or as very well maintained “old.” It’s probably the later. Every surface is covered in jade metallic formica, accented with black plastic trim and 1957 Chevy chrome handles. The ceiling to floor mirrored-wall is wasted on Jay and me.** (Jay normally bunks in a triple. When there is a triple, Gerard bunks with me. When the hotel doesn’t have a triple, Jay gets bumped to me and Gerard sleeps in the van.) The Bonneville salt flats can be seen from my window and extend as far as the eye can see, which, considering the flatness of the terrain is very far. Gerard offered to lead a tour ride to the flats, 10 miles out, 10 back. There were no takers…**The hotel’s casino was mirrored (on the ceilings) reflecting wildly-colored neon lights in an artificial rain forest-themed disorienting cavern with no clear access to light or the outside world. The casinos in Las Vegas and Atlantic City are the epitome of understated elegance by comparison.**

Today’s ride was incredible. Where to start? First there was the navigation. Remember the first day in San Francisco where the cue sheet had 63 turns and was four pages long? Today’s cue sheet boiled down to: Go out of the hotel, turn right, get on I-80E. Ride 100 miles. Get off I-80. Ride to the hotel. Not even I could get lost. Then there was the riding. You know the song, “Ride like the wind”? We rode with the wind! My average speed for 107 miles was a blazing 17.8 mph. The actual riding time for the 100 miles was 5.5 hours. (This broke my previous best of 16.4 mph and 6 h riding time.) With stops to eat and pee, the total ride time was six hours and forty five minutes (from 6:45 a.m. to 1:30 p.m.) It was another day of stunning scenery. **In the morning, there were dark clouds punctuated by fingers of light that splashed onto the mountains in a hundred colors of green.** It looked like one of the inspirational posters they have at the Hallmark Store. Then it was onto I-80 and **the same desert-lined mountains guarding the stark barrenness of the dried up range. Then up over a pass and it was like that moment in the Wizard of Oz when every thing turns from black and white to color. Everything was green. The mountains were multicolor green, depending on how the sun penetrated the clouds. The prairie was green, with brush that would tickle a steer’s belly.** Instead of lines of mountains, we were surrounded by mountains, albeit at a distance. Off in the far distance to the left and in the far distance to the right were more mountains. We were in a green bowl that was at least 50 miles in diameter. After riding another forty five minutes or so, we crested another mountain, and were back in black-and-white.

Random stuff: Our highest elevation today was 7,000 feet. You can feel the temperature drop by 10 - 15 degrees as you ascend the mountain. We are in the Pequop Mountians, just short of Utah, but into mountain time. There was another DIW beside the side of the road, sleeping with his arms wrapped around a Winchester 435. I did not stop to wake him.

There are some pretty long stretches of riding two abreast (not in a rotating double pace line.) There are long conversations about religion, spirituality, kids, spouses, divorces, careers, hopes for the future, failures and successes. You get to know people pretty well on a ride like this. Surprisingly, the conversation is never about bikes, previous rides, or riding technique.

The folks at McDonalds found it odd to be selling so many lunch sandwiches at 9:22 a.m. on a “to go” basis to people who put them in rear pockets of funny shirts. It was the only real food available on the 107 mile stretch. We bought it there and ate it in a rest area a few hours later.

There is such a thing as “too much wind.” On our final descent to the Rainbow, the wind swept down off the mountain and almost blew us off our bikes. I leaned into the wind at a 20 degree angle. Then a truck would roar by, block the wind, and I had to pull up very fast. The riding is what we would call “squarely”. Ketti (the woman from Holland) was blown over and required a few stitches but is otherwise ok.

I was just kidding about the DIW.

The High Nevada Desert

2008-06-09T20:27:00.000-04:00

Day 9, 77 more miles of the High Nevada Desert.

Today we continued to ride through the high Nevada Desert, a place that National Geographic called one of the most remote places in America (excluding Alaska). By now, the group has formed three riding groups: fast, moderate, and “stop and smell the flowers.” I ride in the middle group. We do stop to take pictures at vistas and biobreaks are tolerated. There are long and deep conversations as we ride two abreast. I think that we (the larger group) have bonded and have become pretty close over the last 9 days. We’ve come to like riding on I-80; the shoulder is wide and the grade is never more than 8%. There was another long grade to the top of Emigrant Pass (elevation 6,114 ft) where a whole new world lay on the other side. There was green on the mountains, there were cattle on the horizon, and the mountains in the distance were snow-covered, not snow capped. A local told us they had 12” of snow up there last week. Also on the other side of Emigrant Pass was a 5 mile downhill, one that was smooth with no hairpin turns. According to my cyclo-computer, I hit 44.7 mph. If I’d realized how close I was to my personal record of 46.7, I would have pushed and broken it. Gerard broke 50 mph.

We’re staying in Elko, NV, a town that was once hub of stagecoach traffic, locomotive traffic, as a center of the high range cattle industry, and is now sustained by casinos -lots of them. They range from seedy to pretty nice. We’re staying at a “pretty nice.” The local ranchers, and those of much of the region are descendents of the Basque people (Google it yourself, I’m too tired to put links into the blog). So many of the towns we pass through are having their Basque Festival, much akin to North Brunswick’s Italian Festival. There’s a cultural museum in town (I rode there on my bike) that had lots of interesting information of what it was like, and what it is like to be a rancher. Everything depends on the Spring rain and the runoff from the mountain snow.

All in all, it was a good day. The breakfast room at the hotel was a disaster, they’d never had a group so large as to use all four slices of the toaster, the microwave, the juice dispenser, and the waffle machine. So it was pretty slim pickings of sugar cereals, doughnuts, and fruit. But hey, a carb is a carb. The ABB folks offered to pick up the tab for anyone who wanted to eat in the diner next door, I don’t think anyone took them up on it. “Ride out” was at 7:30 a.m., on 20 miles of bumpy back roads. It was then back to our friend I-80 until at Exit 280 we got off for a check point and lunch at a Burger King/Truck Stop/Kwikie Mart. On the way to the rest rooms, they had a display of high quality colorful do-rags. We all bought at least one. Mine has flames streeching from the front at blazing speed. I figured that it was just what I needed since speed is really a mental thing. And, I have arm warmers in the same design. Then it was back on I-80 and through a scenic alternate route that allowed us to avoid the tunnels that ran under the mountain. The only challenge was that the scenic route ended at a concrete barrier on the Westbound side of I-80. So we carried our bikes over the barrier, and then ran across I-80 W and I-80 E to get to the eastbound shoulder. It was our own triathlon; ride, lift, run. I got into Elko at 1:30 p.m. so there was some time to bicycle around town and blog.

There will probably be no blog entries on day 10 or 11. We are doing back to back centuries on those days. As I’ve previously mentioned, a century ride is 100 miles and is to cyclists pretty much what a marathon is to a runner. It’s no small thing. I’ll be too tired to blog. BUT! Day 11 is our first (non-riding) rest day. We should he ready for it.

By request: How to post comments

2008-06-09T19:36:00.003-04:00

Posting comments is a simple five-step process:

(1) Click the green "0 comments" link at the end of the post you wish to comment on.
(2) Type your comment in the text box.
(3) Now type the word that appears in the squiggly graphic -- this is prove that you're not a computer posting spam.
(4) Under "Choose your identity," select the "Name/URL" choice and type your name into the Name box, leave "URL" blank. (This assumes you don't have a google username; if you do, you probably don't need these instructions in the first place).
(5) Click "Publish your comment."

And that's it!

Day 8, Sunday June 8, 57 miles, DIW

2008-06-08T22:50:00.002-04:00

Toothless drifters are people too. That’s the lesson that “Lucky” taught me, that like any other group, toothless drifters shouldn’t be stereotyped. I met Lucky when he came up to me wanting to bum a Powerbar as I sat by the edge of the road fixing my third flat of the day. Lucky had a lot to say. I suspect that he didn’t have a lot of people to listen. First, he volunteered that the term “homeless drifter” was offensive. It conjured up an image of a homicidal lunatic with fire in his eyes. Lucky preferred “dentally impaired wanderer (DIW).” He also suggested, having researched the matter in the library on the internet, that the portion of murderers in the DIW population was the same as in the general population. Lucky followed politics and was saddened that Hillary lost. He’d pinned his hopes of getting dental care on Hillary’s plan for national healthcare. Lucky thought that he might get his life back on track if domestic housing policy made some accommodations for single males. He’d vote for any Democrat who had a plan for housing and health care. George W had never made it a priority.

Lucky considers himself lucky; says he’s always been lucky. Borne breech without the aid of a doctor he was happy to be born alive. A rabid dog attacked Lucky in elementary school. Luckily, the dog was on a short lease and broke its own neck as it lunged at him. On finishing high school, Lucky got a good job at 8omatic, a local company that made eight track tapes. When 8 tracks went out of style, 8omatic converted to VHS. It was basically the same technology. Vomatic retooled, stayed open, and Lucky kept his job. Lucky lived the all American Dream; a double wide trailer, a Ford 350 with a gun rack, a dog named “Sorrow” and Sueanne, the love of his live. Sueanne worked in a regional call center. Then everything went south. VHS went obsolete, Vomatic couldn’t retool to CDs or DVDs, the technology was too different. Lucky lost his job, and with it, his health and dental benefits. Sueanne’s call center was being moved to New Delhi. Since she was a supervisor, she took the relocation offer and left. With no wife and no income, Lucky couldn’t meet the payments on the trailer, went into foreclosure, and became a homeless wanderer. That’s what I heard sitting by the side of the road changing a flat. I gave Lucky the Powerbar and bottle of Gatorade as we parted ways.

The rest of the day was not so interesting. It was an easy 57 mile ride up I-80 to Battle Mountain, NV. We’re all used to riding on I-80 now and have come to like it. The climbs were slight, the weather perfect, and we had plenty of time to hang out at the rest stops. There are still a lot of those brown mountains, many of them snow-capped.

We’re staying at another Comfort Inn. Along with Holiday Inn Express, it’s the mainstay of our travels. Both chains seem unfazed by all the bicycles moving through the hallways. I’m not sure what their regular guests think.

This is a little like summer camp for cyclists. Andy is the head counselor. He has a wonderful calm voice and contagious kind karma that is infectious for all of us. “Wasn’t that 8,000 foot climb great? Did you ever think that you could be such a strong cyclist? Wasn’t the view form the summit magnificent? Michelle is the mother figure, reminding everyone to wash their hands before eating their enroute snacks, to look through the lost and found box and reclaim our goods, telling us to sign in at least three times a day, and so on. Christine is the utility outfielder. She rides the route, helps load the vans, and mans the rest stops. Last but not least is Gerard, our bike mechanic and my roommate. You can’t appreciate how cool it is having a bike mechanic on the tour. Gerard keeps a good eye on our bikes, sometimes running up to adjust something before we even know something is wrong. Mechanics in bike shops tend to treat you like you are stupid and they are the guardians of all bicycle mysteries. Gerard is more generous and teaches us how to do the repairs ourselves (if we want). Tonight we had a dérailleur (the mechanism that changes the gears) clinic before dinner. Gerard is also a very strong rider; he was the coach on yesterday’s double pace line. Andy, Christine, Michelle or Gerard are out on their bikes with us every day. That’s very nice. Summer camp is great!

Oh yes, today marks a personal best. The longest tour I've ever ridden before was 7 days. Now it's 8! Tomorrow I break my tour distance record (580 miles).

Day 7, 70 miles, somewhere in Nevada

2008-06-07T22:39:00.004-04:00

This will be short because I'm tired. Just look at the picture, that tired. We rode 70 miles against 15 mile headwinds. In keeping with the be positive theme, here is the top ten list of good things about headwinds.

10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1

Do you get the picture? There is nothing good about headwinds. Except perhaps that I learned to ride in a double pace line. A double pace line works like this: Imagine a long rectangle formation of cyclists with the wind coming from the left. The riders on the left break the wind for the riders on the right. Thus, the riders on the right side move faster, the ones on the left fall back. When a rider reaches the front of the right side, he switches left, and drops back. When the last rider on the left side sees that the last spot on the right side has moved up, that rider moves to the right. If that's too complicated, just think of it as cyclists moving in a counter clockwise rotating rectangle. It does, as you might imagine, require lots of concentration on the part of all the riders, but the payoff is high. If rider fought that headwind alone, she'd go maybe 10 mph. If she was in a single pace line, it would be 12 mph. In a double pace line, it gets above 15 mph. I was one of 16 cyclists in a double pace line. It was very cool. I learned a new cylcing skill.

After riding all day, there was work to me done. I took my laundry over to the truck stop. Somehow, I didn't seem to fit in, but when I started to whine about needing clean clothes to continue riding my bicycle to New Hampshire, they let me use the washing machines in the "professional drivers" area. while the clothes were in the washer,I rode to the local bike store to get some supplies. They thought that I (a x country rider) was the most exciting thing that happened in their shop all week. (but it didn't get me a discount). When I got back, everything went into the drier (screw that "line dry" instructions on my shorts). Everything went in on "delicate" (a rarely used setting in the truck stop) and every ten minutes, items that were dry got pulled. Fortunately there were no truckers to make fun of my spandex shorts or flashy jerseys. Then the laundry had to be folded, resorted, and packed. Thanks what life on the road is like. (I only have to pack and unpack 45 more times.)

The scenery is 7.5 on a scale of ten. The brown foothills go on for miles, with some variation when the clouds change their color or when snow caps the tall ones. All in all, it's brown and dry. Much different from the lush green and babbling brooks of a few days ago.

Today isn't Chris' birthday, nor Karen's. ; - )

2008-06-06T23:08:00.003-04:00

Day 6, 91 mile day, 15.4 mph average, 5,695 Calories.

More than 80 of these miles were on interstate I-80. Now I could bitch and moan about riding on the shoulder of an interstate, but that would violate the “be positive” theme of the ride. So there are my top ten good things about riding on I-80.

10. It makes you appreciate the routes you usually ride at home.
9. You learn what a mirage in the distance is like. (When the sun catches salt flats at the right angle, it reflects back and looks like water. Once you get there, the angle changes and it just looks like land.)
8. There is plenty of time to soak in the same endless unchanging scenery.
7. When you catch a tail wind, it goes and goes and goes.
6. You don’t have to worry about oncoming traffic making a left turn.
5. It’s safer than cycling a windy downhill at 40 mph.
4. When a truck swooshes by, it’s like someone put their hand on your butt and gave you a big push forward. This increases speed by 5 mph. When it’s a triple trailer, the slip stream can add 15 mph to your speed. (no joke)
3. There are rumble strips between the cyclist and the road to jolt the cyclist back to awareness should he start to drift into the lane. I suppose this would also work if the trucker started to drift into the bike lane, but one a truck going 80 hits the rumble strip, it’s too late to do me much good.
2. There are no pesky joggers, kids on tikes, or bird watchers on “the bike path.”
1. It’s straight for 80 miles, you can’t get lost!

We’re starting to rack up miles. The official cumulative total as of today is 409 miles.
The pictures show the salt flats, the typical mountains in the distance, and how we spend our time once we check into the Bates Motel and Casino.

Day 5, Lake Tahoe, into Nevada

2008-06-05T23:36:00.003-04:00

Once again, it was quite a day. I woke up tired and in my "Tom isn't very nice in the morning” mood. Perhaps today would be the day the bubble pops. Seeing the guy in the parking lot scraping the frost off his window didn’t make me feel any better. But then we got out on the road. The sun rose over the mountains in the East (as it usually does), and we were riding in a line of 20 cyclists going north. So the macadam held a string of cycling shadows. If only I could have taken out my camera and captured it in one of those one hand shots. But that's not a smart thing to do in a line of 20 cyclists.

It's been a little disappointing that it's been hard to stop and take pictures or just stand and look; the cycling groups just didn’t stop. If you did, you were dropped. Today was different, perhaps because yesterday was so hard. I was fortunate enough to ride with Sue, an ER nurse from Denver (who has climbed Mount Kilimanjaro), and the oldest member of our group, John, who is 69 and will be getting married in the Spring. Charlie is retired military and led us to a microbrewery for lunch. It was a real “stop and smell the roses” (or stop and go to the bathroom) group.

At any rate, after the shadow pace line, we passed Squaw Valley and slipped onto that black ribbon that cut through the green velvet forest alongside Spring run off cascading down from the Sierras. (Not a bad sentence, eh?). We then hugged the shore of Lake Tahoe. The sun flicked off the wind whipped waves of Tahoe reflecting a thousand diamonds in a setting of green forest and platinum capped mountains. Then there was the inevitable climb. The grade was 8%, eight miles long, we traveled at the blinding speed of 4 mph. How long did that take? Do the math. It got colder and colder as we went higher and higher. The tour company van carried our extra clothes and met us half way up so we could add more layers. The snow wasn’t up on those distant mountains, we were! And the snow was there with us. Pretty cool for June. (Can you find the bad pun?) The reward for that 8 mile climb was a !! 16 !! mile down hill. That was, if you’ll excuse the expression, “kick ass.” Exhilarating. Brake scorching. I kept it below that 35 mph speed limit.

We’re in Nevada. There are lots of casinos in Nevada. We had dinner at the buffet. It was really good.

Now, a kind request for my friends. The idea of a blog is to get some two way conversation going. There hasn’t been much activity in the comments section. I feel like I’m throwing that bottle out into the ocean. Clicking on that “comment” link or sending me e-mail (t.montville@yahoo.com) every couple or three days would help keep my seat on the saddle. (Thanks for those messages, Bob.)

Day 4, The Donner Pass, 8,000+ feet high

2008-06-04T23:59:00.003-04:00

I’m tired. But very happy. Today was one of my most challenging days of cycling- strike that, THE most challenging day. We rode 75 miles and had an elevation gain (i.e. we peddled up a hill that high) of 8,590 feet- that’s a mile and a half upward! Typically the grade was 9-12 %. Remember, the teacher in the Zendo and the stick? It was like that. The highest grade I ever cycle at home is 6 or 7%, and to be frank, I try to avoid those hills. Today, there was no avoiding it. Most of the day was just plain hard work, 8,900 calories of expended work (remember, a calorie is a unit of energy). Our route wove in and out of the path of I-80. It was mostly through pine forest with babbling brooks and magnificent rock falls in the middle of the gushing waters. It reminded me of a place near his boy hood home that my dad used to take us to skinny dip. The environment helped keep my mind off the climb. At one point, however, there was no way around it, we had to climb on I-80. The shoulders were wide and in good repair, and the grade was only 7-8%, but cars really wiz by the entrance and exit ramps. ABB is very safety conscious, they pulled us off I-80 for half a mile where there was construction and absolutely no shoulder. We had to walk on the grass beyond where the shoulder should have been. We passed the Sugar Bowl ski area, where there was still snow on the ground. The ski runs where still etched in white. But there was nataural snow beyond some parts of our riding shoulder. We had to add clothes as our height increased. ABB had a van ten miles from the top with out bags of heavier clothes. In the morning it was just cycling tights and a jersey. At the top I’d added a skull cap, a fleece vest, and a wind jacket.

The top of Donner Pass was spectacular. The view of the mountains and the lake made me mist up to realize the beauty of the country. (It’s corny, but it’s true). We stopped and took lots of group pictures. I’ll have to figure out how to put more than one on the blog. The ride down was kick-ass. But we’d been admonished that it was a very technical down hill (steep drops into hair-pin turns) and this was not the place to go for a new personal best speed record. I heeded that advice. A few miles past the bottom, there was a state park with a museum chronicling the travels of the immigrants from the east to California,

Imagine the year 1846, when 89 people in the Donner Party (named after their leader), coming from St. Joseph, MO (where we’ll be going) set out for a new life in California. They made the mistake of trying to take a short cut through what is now the Donner Pass. (It may have been shorter, but it was 8,000 feet up. Guess that didn’t register.) The Donner Party had to disassemble their wagons and drag them over the mountain. They got caught in the pass during a historically bad snow storm. Some starved, there was talk of cannibalism, ultimately 49 people made it. We get to do it on paved roads on bicycles!

Day 3

2008-06-03T17:24:00.003-04:00

On big rides, calender day and date, fade into another universe. It's just Day X (of the ride). Today is day 3. The first half of the ride was 35 miles (almost as long as the whole Delaware & Raritan)on the American River Parkway. The parkway is a half a mile wide multi use (hiking, jogging, cycling, birding) park with a paved path and full facilities. It lies on a Sacramento River flood plain and is constructed to withstand the occasional flood. (For example, the toilets are those stainless steel indestructible prison toilets and the toilet paper holders are four feet off the ground so that the paper doesn't get soggy.) It is, I have to admit, even nicer than the Capital crescent Trail. After a bit of highway riding, we had a 9% grade hill for 1.4 miles. That should have been the big hill for the day, bring our total climb to ~1500 feet. The operative word is "should." I made a wrong turn and found my self going up and down the side of the mountain. It was one of those deals where you know pretty quick that it was a wrong turn, but don't want to go back up the hill you just came down. (Note that two different people told me that I could get to my destination this way. Operative word, "could." I should have asked them if I "should" go that way. To make a long story short (I know, too late for that), I added an extra 9 miles and 1600 feet of climb to my day. It was a beautiful route looking over the valley to the mountains on the other side of the valley and gave me another chance to work on my hill climbing skills. (How's that for a positive attitude? Average speed, 13.2. 4,732 calories burned- think I'll have desert.

All that having been said, I got to the hotel by 1:00. Our room wasn't ready, but the desk person gave me a towel and the key to the pool. So I swam and laid in the sun for an hour. Bonus- since I swam, I didn't need to wash my cycling shorts and I don't need to shower. (Bob will understand this- when we were kids, if we went swimming, even in the Mud-hole (a real place), we'd argue that we didn't need to shower.) Now the pool was chlorinated, and so was the hot tub, so that really should be enough. Am I kidding? Only Bob knows.

b/t/w, I'm in Auburn, CA

Two Days Down, Fifty to Go

2008-06-02T18:12:00.003-04:00

Day 1 San Francisco to Fairmont, CA (84 miles)

Where to start? We saw so much and traveled so far today. The Pacific wheel dip (the trip starts with the back tire in the Pacific and ends with the front tire in the Atlantic) was about 17 miles from our hotel. (That's me in the picture. Sorry it's so small, but sometimes there are technical glitches.) To get to the Pacific, we had our first big climb of the trip, 600 ft only two miles into the ride. Not warmed up or limber yet.

We passed the California AIDS ride (SF to LA) South as we went North. I was a little wistful for having ridden with them in 06, but realize that that ride was, in a sense, preparation for this one. There was a lot of good natured “You’re going the wrong way!” between the two groups. That got old pretty fast, so when we were all at stop lights, we’d yell, “We’ve been to LA, it sucks, turn back!” The Pacific was beautiful, but had a pretty chilly wind blowing off it. We stopped and walked across the beach to put our rear wheel in the Pacific. Then we had a big group picture.

The ride to the Golden Gate Bridge was extraordinary. We rode through the streets of San Francisco proper, a city known for its hills. We rode up the Presidio a former military base that sits about the town. A triathlon was also passing through, so there was some pretty fancy traffic control. Wouldn’t want to get hit by one of them going down hill at 45 mph! The Golden Grate Bridge is a gorgeous piece of civil engineering and a cultural icon. On the weekends, its recreational use is so heavy that it has to be segregated; walkers on joggers on the East side, cyclists to the West.

It was a big day for prisons, we saw Alcatraz and San Quinton. The later is huge, a campus about the size of Montclair University. Then it was in and out a variety of pathways. We rode on bike paths, wooded trails, suburban streets, busy city streets and major highways with 55 (ha) mph traffic. There were some artsy towns; the group we were riding with stopped in a very hip brunch/lunch place and refilled. I was going to go with the breakfast burrito until I saw that they were the size of a new born baby. Too much to eat and ride. I had two big ass pancakes topped with a couple of eggs instead.

After that, I hung back with a slower rider. Those of you who know me know that riding slow is not my thing, but I can remember my first ride when I was far behind and all alone. It’s not a good feeling. Plus, navigating those 63 turns was pretty intimidating. So it was good to be with someone. We only got lost a few times. The worst was when we ended up on RT37 West when we were supposed to be on 37East. We did not try to run across 4 lanes of traffic…

That was pretty much the day. After we washed up, the van took us to Applebee’s where we had a giant table that held all forty of us. It was good to eat. (Bad usage, the table wasn’t good to eat; it was good for us to eat dinner.) They gave us all ice cream after dinner. : - ) Back at the hotel, Gerard (our bike mechanic and my sometime roommate) put a new chain on my bike. Should have had it done before I left. 2,000 miles is about all you can expect out of a chain. So I might need another before the trip is over.

Day 2, Fairmont to Sacramento, 60 miles

Today’s ride was pretty uneventful. It was flat through a lot of agricultural lands which had very dark fertile soil. I hoped on the tail of a fast group, which is a good way to get to be a better rider. Ride with people who are a little faster than you. That’s a good life lesson. My average speed was 16.4 mph, really good for 60 miles, and including tooling around the University of California-Davis. I tried to drop in on a few of my food science colleagues, but they were out. UCD is an incredible place of bikes. There are literally thousands on campus, with hundreds on bike racks outside the lecture halls. The core of campus is closed to vehicles, so it’s pretty cool. I had a very nice, but too expensive, lunch in Davis’ yuppie district.

Today is Elijah’s Promise’s “Chef’s Night,” a major fund raiser. If anyone from EP is reading this, please convey the message” the Cross Country Challenge is a one time only event. Next year, I’ll be at Chef’s Night, sitting and eating. Speaking of eating, we’re eating at places like Denny’s, Applebees, etc.

That’s it for now. Got to do laundry, or maybe swim in the river, or maybe go to “Old Sacramento.” That’s a recreated old west town.” Or I may take a nap…. (later) Didn't do the nap, but was reduced to comparison shopping of the food at the Shell and Valerno gas station. I needed salty food (Fritos!) tonight and carbs (licorice sticks) for tomorrow.

b/t/w, if I don't post on a given day, don't worry; some of the hotels don't have internet.

Tomorrow we ride at dawn!

2008-05-31T23:35:00.002-04:00

Ok, we ride at 6:45. Nonetheless, this is it. We've met as a group (~1/3 guys who just retired, ~1/4 international from Holland, England, Ireland, Australia and Trinidad, then an odd assortment of people who can get the time off from work and afford the trip.). (One woman couldn't get the time off, so got herself fired!) All in all it's a nice friendly, athletic looking, group.

We had our first "ride rap" (each night's overview of the next day's ride). On day 1, we'll ride 80 miles with 4,080 feet of climb and 63 turns. At one point, we have to dismount and climb under a fence! (I'm not kidding.) Small price to pay for dipping our back wheel in the Pacific and bicycling across the Golden Gate Bridge. Odd factoid- tomorrow is also the start of AIDSlifeCycle7 (a.k.a. the California AIDS ride) which goes from San Francisco to LA. I did this ride in 2006. It will be 3.000 of them moving south and 40 of us moving north....

San Francisco Bay Trail

2008-05-30T17:30:00.002-04:00

Was this the last training ride, or the prelude to the big ride? I rode out on the San Francisco Bay Trail. When finished, it will run 500 miles around the Bay. My little part was about 15 miles out and 15 back. Fortunately the trail starts about 100 yards from my hotel. (South of the Airport on the map). The day started with SF’s classic fog and drizzle, but by the end of the ride gave way to blue skies and sunshine. The first part of the ride was on an elevated paved path, right at the edge of the bay. The views of the bridges, mountains, and water were impressive. After a while, the path veers off to follow marshlands and then into very upscale business parks; the home of Oracle and Shutterfly. Lunch was at a neat Thai restaurant. I had something other than Pad Thai. (It wasn’t on the menu). When I got back to the hotel, I met a few more members of our group; a couple from Holland (whose bikes were still in London) and a guy from Tasmania (who was riding a recumbent). Then I took a nice nap. By way of answer to my thesis question, today’s outing was the prelude to the big ride. If it had been a training ride, it would have pushed me from 1990 training miles to 2,020. Breaking the 2,000 mile mark just wasn’t something I had to do. ; - )

Just Hangin' With My Bike

2008-05-30T11:06:00.002-04:00

Here's the "before and after" picture of my bike. There is something very meditative about assembling a bike. Unwrapping each part like a present on Christmas morning. Laying them out in some semblance of order. Picking each piece up, contemplating its function and orientation on the bike. The saddle and the handle bars are loosely seated first. Later they'll be perfectly squared. Once the saddle and bars are on, the bike can be vertical. Upside down, but vertical- much easier to work on than laying on its side. The the skewers are placed in the hubs and the wheels on the bike. Someday I'll learn how to mount the rear wheel w/o getting all greasy. Now the bike goes right side up, the pedals go on, and I'm good to go.

I met my first fellow rider at breakfast. Suresh is from Trinadad, a military guy on one year, pre-retirement leave. He's not concerned about the hills, but he's unsure of the cold.

So it's 8:15 a.m. (Pacific time), I've had breakfast and assembled my bike. What next? Maybe I'll go for a little ride....http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=5187857015204185797&postID=4615346519992722319#
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I made it to San Francisco!

2008-05-30T01:20:00.002-04:00

Just think, blogging at 35,000 feet. That’s better than being in the mile high club, isn’t it? ; - ) It will be sweet if the whole journey is like this. I printed my boarding pass at home, gave my duffel to the skycap, breezed through airport security, and had a pleasant sit down lunch. The flight to Charlotte was uneventful. It’s a nice airport. I like to sit on the white rocking chairs up on the mezzanine and watch the flow of people. It helps the time between connections pass. Then it was off to San Francisco. There was an empty middle seat next to me! When was the last time you had that happen? (There was a lot of gallows humor on USAir. They’re charging for sandwiches and “snack boxes” now, and June 1 will do away with the pretzels and coke.) But I don’t care, when the coast to coast fair in $179, I’ll eat at the airport restaurant before boarding. Hmm... I just looked out the window. I wonder how far it is from horizon to horizon. 100 mile? 200? 300? A couple or three days riding? We’re over Pueblo, CO, an hour from San Francisco by plane. It will be day 20 (and 1,429 miles) by bike. Arriving in San Francisco, my bag was the third one on the carrousel and the hotel shuttle was there within 10 minutes. Life is sweet.

I'll be there tomorrow, my bike's there today!

2008-05-28T12:02:00.004-04:00

My bike is in San Francisco (double click on the tracking document). I'm so excited. Little things continue to go wrong; Petunia escaped our grasp and missed her trip to the vet. My packing plan fell apart (literally) when I gave the duffel one more tug to close the zipper. The replacement campaign bag is five pounds heavier, so I'm now 5 lbs over the 35 lb. limit. Will anybody really care? (How do soldiers pack in a duffel when they go off to war for a year?) But these are little things! I don't really care. Tomorrow I'm off for San Francisco! Saturday is the ceremonial wheel dip in the Pacific. Sunday we start riding in earnest to cross our great country. I am so psyched...

Memorial Day, Almost Packed

2008-05-26T12:14:00.003-04:00

It’s Monday, I fly to San Francisco on Thursday, and feel oddly serene. I’ve packed the bike, put my household affairs in order, and made sure my students are going in the right direction at work. I’m almost finished packing *me*. Imagine packing for 52 days. I need “bike clothes,” both fair weather and for the rain and cold. I need civilian clothes. Finally, there is bike stuff to be packed: cycling shoes, inner tubes, an extra tire, tools, an extra chain, water bottles, my mini repair stand; you get the idea. Oh yes, several pounds of sun block, butt balm, and assorted toiletries. The kicker? It all has to fit into one duffel bag, not more than 35 pounds.

Here’s your game for today. Identify as many things as you can in the top and bottom of the duffle. I’ll get you started. In the top, the regular cycling clothes are on the left, the cold weather ones on the right, and civies on the middle. My helmet is squished in. Now for the bottom. (Remember how you learned to make images bigger by double clicking on them? Now is probably a good time to do that.) In the bottom, can you find: a spare tire, a spare tube, cycling shoes, an extra set of cycling cleats, prescription medications, butt cream, band aids, a bungie cord, toothpaste, and a disposable razor.

How many did you get right?
10, you should be doing the ride, not me.
9, you know your cycling gear, but missed one of the hard ones.
8, a solid “B” you probably thought the thing labeled “Continentals” was a dead snake and wondered why I packed it.
7. what can I say? In “The Science of Food,” this might be a “B.” Especially if you did something “nice” for the professor. = : - o No, not that! I was thinking of something academic like putting that really illegible lecture into PowerPoint. (So many to chose from).
6, Congratulations, you identified all the noncycling items. It’s not your fault that you don’t know what cleats look like.
5. Ok, you need extra credit. Go back to the top of the back and correctly identify three items. 3+5 = 8, you’ve gotten a “B”. (You can express your gratitude by bringing me cookies or something.)
Less than 5? I’m sure that none of you got less than 5.

After lunch, I’m going to take my beater bike and ride the canal’s tow path. As you know, I’ve ridden next to the canal dozens and dozens of times. But I don’t think I’ve ridden the actual tow path all year. It’s totally shaded, in some places has the river on one side and the canal on the other, and one can’t ride very fast on it. That will be good for me.

Added in Edit How fast and how far don't matter on a day like today. It was an absolutely glorious day on the canal. Everybody knew it and everyone was there. Kyaks of every color, extended families hiking or walking, lovers hand in hand eyes for nothing else, fat ladies wobbling by, city kids blazing by on their WalMart Huffy's, people on horse back, little kids with training wheels on their first bike, maybe their first ride. If so, it will be hard to beat.

Ride, Just Ride

2008-05-24T22:37:00.002-04:00

It was a glorious day to ride. Just ride. No training goal, no time constraints, nothing but the bike and the road. It was warm, the mid-sixties, the first time this year I’ve ridden without leg warmers or a wind jacket. The sky was full of Simpsons’ cloulds. The ‘bent took me out to the country. Once you pass the little town of Neshanic, the country gets very rural with horses, cows, and Victorian houses. My path took be down to River Road, another route from my childhood. Duke Island Park is on the other side of the river. We had lots of picnics there, the folks playing pinochle and us kids taking the flat bottom boat out on the shallow river. It was a special place. As for River Road itself, Bob and I, and maybe my cousin Jack, or next door neighbor, Tom, would ride out here after dinner. On our ten speeds. 7 miles out and 7 miles back as I remember it. Then I rode through Raritan and Somerville to my folks’ house. Mom was at Bingo, but Dad was home and made me lunch. I showed him how to find the blog on his computer. From there it was through South Bound Brook, Canal Rd., and home. 47 miles at 16.3 mph ave.

Graduation Day

2008-05-23T16:09:00.004-04:00

You do remember that I'm the pedaling professor. Today is my favorite day of the academic year- Graduation! On Graduation Day, everybody is proud, happy, or just relieved that it's finally over. The faculty gets paid to sit in the sun and look scholarly, the grads get to bounce the beach ball around during the speeches, and the families get to crane their necks and cheer. The picture is of my friend George, giving his daughter Jen her diploma. Faculty giving diplomas to their children is a Rutgers tradition. The day that I gave Chris his diploma was my most memorable day at Rutgers. To many of you, the signing of the Alma Mater is one of those silly traditions. But Rutgers' Alma Mater is derived from a colonial drinking song. We all stand up and sing it at the end of the ceremony and then the academic year is over. Whew....

Why I Ride

2008-05-20T21:20:00.002-04:00

Tonight I had dinner at Promises Culinary School. It was a "themed" event, "From Out Mothers' Kitchens" a tasting dinner of Mothers' recipes made by students at the culinary school or brought by guests. The venue was the culinary school, so we ate, as it were, "in the kitchen." The story of the food was told and then it was served by students in white chef's hats and starched chef's jackets. It was good eats and good company. The recipes are wonderful, but it is the students who are the success stories. They are the folks who turned their lives around when they were given the chance. Many of these folk start by being served in the soup kitchen, progress to learning how to cook at the culinary school, and ultimately get jobs at Promises Caterers or other restaurants in New Brunswick. They are why I ride. Your donations change their lives... For them, I thank you.

Say Bye to My Bike

2008-05-18T20:21:00.004-04:00

My bike leaves for San Francisco tomorrow. In 11 days, I'll go and join it. I've been in a mixed state of excitement -and anxiety for everything that can go wrong. The (erroneous) mind set is that if one thinks of everything is wrong, one can plan to prevent it. This is just like the doomed-to-failure attempt to make something "fool proof." Fools are just too ingenious. So, I'm forgetting about all the stuff that can go wrong. When the bike went in the box, a lot of anxiety went with it too.

One of my big decisions was how to get the bike to San Francisco - riding it there was not an option. I've taken bikes with me when I fly. That usually works well, except that this time I have connecting flights and don't want to risk it. My local bike shop would charge !!$150!! to pack it and ship it. I explored other options. FedEx* charges ~$35 if I pack it and bring it to their depot. So I spent a couple of hours this afternoon cleaning, lubricating, breaking down, and wrapping my bike in bubble wrap. Then came the hard part. getting it into the box. Fortunately, my neighbor, Seth (also a cyclist) was out and responded to my call for help. It's always easier to *push* some else's bike. So I fit it in the box the best I could, Seth gave it a good push, and then we taped like crazy before it popped out.

*FedEx, why FedEx? FedEx is famous for its ability to track parcels. When the Centers of Disease Control distributes bacteria that cause disease, it uses FedEx so that it knows where they are at all times. If it’s good enough for bacteria, it’s good enough for my bike.

Finally, a brief tour of my fully pimped-out carbon fiber Motobecane Immortal Pro. It’s been customized with a front carrier to hold a day’s worth of stuff. The aerodynamic mirror is essential to know how fast that big dog is gaining on me. There is, of course, the red handlebar tape to match the red “Motobecane” on the down tube, my red helmet, my red glove, my red jersey, and the red detailing on my cycling shoes. Who says that men don’t know how to accessorize?

The cycle computer really is a computer. It has GPS to tell me where I am, measures speed, distance, heart rate, cadence (RPM), % grade (which I’d probably rather not know in the Rockies), # feet climbed and # feet descent (these are always magically equal on rides that start and end at home), time of sunrise, time of sunset, clock time, ride time and the day of the year according to the Gregorian calander. All of these data download into m PC for further analysis or superimposition on GoogleEarth.

Moving toward the back of the bike is the special “male friendly” saddle. We’re all adults, we know what it’s designed to protect. There is always hope ; - )
Finally there is the dual water bottle holder situated behind the saddle so as to not cause additional drag. It holds two (red, of course) water bottles.

Rebecca Rocks!

2008-05-17T20:44:00.005-04:00

Today Rebecca received her Master of Science in Teaching at Fordham University's Rose Hill Campus in the Bronx. Mom and Dad are so proud. Rebecca accomplished this while working as a math and science middle school teacher at the Center School in upper Manhattan. Our girl child has always been bright and fiercely independent. Rebecca finished high school in 3 years, used the extra year at Rutgers, where she may have set a record for number of scientific papers published by and undergraduate and then went on to do a few years in a lab at Yale. Having decided that academic science was not her thing, Rebecca was awarded a State of New York Teaching Fellowship. The fellows teach full time while earning their MST. And that's what she did. Rebecca earned her MST. There are lots of lucky middle schoolers out there. Rebecca Rocks!

And now a word from our ride:
In two weeks, I'll be on the ride! But I've lost that "all jock, all the time" feeling. I think that once I had it (the feeling) I backed off, but there is still time to work on mental toughness, ride another couple of hundred miles, start (yes, start) doing situps, work on upper body strength, get a haircut, and chew some nails.

This morning I rode a quick (15.7 mph) 15 miles along Canal Road in weather that was cool and crisp. The birds were singing, the sun dappled through the trees to make never ending patterns on the pavement, and the road kill count was an amazingly low one. And yes, YES, YES, Courtylous Lane, the most pot hole-filled, lose gravelled, bumpy, bone jarring direct route from my house to Canal Road HAS BEEN PAVED! I know it's not a big deal to you, but for the last two years, I've been going two miles out of my way to avoid Courtylous. But then, that means that my rides just got two miles shorter, which is bad for training, right?

One last shout out: HORAY FOR REBECCA!

Last Century

2008-05-16T12:25:00.002-04:00

I was born in the middle of the last century. Just thought I’d throw that in, even though this entry is about my last 100 mile ride (or “century” in cycle ling) before the trip. I drove to my folks’ house in Bridgewater and set off north on Rt 206. It’s pretty much all up hill going north; it took my 4 hours to ride 50 miles out, and 3 hours to ride back. It’s a route I’d driven (and thought too long) many times taking Chris and then Matt to Boy Scout camp.

There were many childhood memories along the way. “Wild West City” is still there. Bob and my cousins John and Dave would go there to play cowboy. We’d ride on a stage coach and “bad guys” would jump out and ambush it. A gun fight ensued. The good guys always won. We also got to lock each other up in the jail. My “Uncle” Bernie’s Hillside Lounge couldn’t be seen from the road, but is still there about half a mile up Hillside. Uncle Bernie isn’t doing so well, he’s in the VA hospital. “Little Bernie” is behind the bar now. I didn’t stop…. Lake Hopatcong (see pix) was the site of water daring and bravery. I can remember jumping into the lake off a platform that must have been a gazillion feet high. Well, I was little, and it was big, maybe 10 feet high. The only disappointment of the trip was that I couldn’t eat at The Chatterbox. It was at the 48 mile mark and looks cool, I always wanted to stop there. But there is a big sign on the front door- NO CLEATS OF ANY KIND. Cycling shoes have cleats, so I took them off, thinking my fashionable “American Cycling League” socks would save the day. Then there was another sign, “NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SERVICE. Damn, never thought that would apply to me. So I left, found a nice dinner further down the road, had a nice lunch, and tipped big.

The scenery is quite lovely; horse country fades into forest and then farm. The Northern part of the state is very rural. If you were swept away by aliens and then dropped here, you’d never guess you were in New Jersey.

Food for Thought

2008-05-14T11:26:00.005-04:00

One can't ride more than an hour or so using the glycogen stored in muscle, so "on the bike" nutrition becomes a critical issue. Cyclists endlessly debate the pros and cons of Gatorade vs Endurex vs Acclerade vs coffee with two shots of espresso and lots of cream. I have a different take to this. The key things on the bike are energy (i.e. calories) and electrolytes (i.e. salt). That's why Spam is the food of choice for this endurance cyclist. It's high in fat so there is a lot of energy. It's also high in salt, so that takes care of the electrolytes. It also comes in a variety of formats to break the boredom and for ease of use. There is the classical can with it's flip top opening. Just grab a fork (or a tire lever) and dig in. This format can also be use used to grease the bike chain in a pinch. My favorite is Spray-on Spam. The can fits in the bottle cage, you can spray it directly into your mouth, and it's good for charging up without stopping. You can also spray it at any dogs that are chasing you. They stop to eat, and you get away! To round things out, I love to start my day with green eggs and Spam...

I've cut back to riding every other day. But tomorrow will be a ride all day day. Rain cancels.

p.s. I took the picture with my phone! So many functions, so little time to learn them all.

Donations

2008-05-11T21:54:00.004-04:00

Hey ya'll, it's Chris here with a public service announcement: The "donate online" link on the right side of the blog, which was supposed to redirect you to paypal, has been broken, well, probably since I set this thing up.

It's fixed now, so if you haven't donated yet, now is a good time to use the new working link. Also, my dad is too classy to mention this, but don't forget that every cent you donate goes directly to Elijah's Promise, and not to fund the cost of the ride itself.

20 days to go!

Guess I'm Ready

2008-05-10T22:10:00.002-04:00

Today I completed the second day of my "back-to-back" rides, this time going down to Willingboro to see Bob and Karen. Without going through the local geography, or back story, my detour through downtown Trenton reminded me of why the governor's mansion is in Princeton. (Is there another state when the Governor's mansion is not in the capital city?) It was a cold and gray day, but Bob had lots of route suggestions, and Karen made me a lot lunch. The return ride was punctuated (semi-pun) by three flats. The first one was overdue and gave me the opportunity to demonstrate my pit-crew precision. The second one was annoying. The third was a challenge, since, believing in Murphy, I'd packed two spare tubes- yes with three flats. Fortunately, I was able to find the puncture site on one of the tubes, patch it, and limp home. It was good to be home. 93 miles, 15.4 mph. They say if you can ride long rides two days in a row, you're ready for the trip. Guess I'm ready.

Riding in the rain

2008-05-09T21:10:00.002-04:00

What's it like to ride in the rain? Today I contemplated that question as I rode 80 miles. There were no other bikes on the road, only rain.... Go figure.

In a Zen monastery there is a zendo, or mediation chapel, where zazen (the sitting meditation) is practiced. During zazen, the Teacher walks among the monks carrying a stick. If a monk starts to drift off, he may ask the teacher to hit him with the stick so as to bring back his focus. (It's a dream of mine to bring this pedagogical technique to Rutgers.) At any rate, a young novice asks the Teacher what it feels like. The Teacher replies, "It's a stick. I hit you with it. It hurts."

That's what it's like to ride in the rain.

Fundraising and big news from Chris

2008-05-08T23:18:00.004-04:00

The month's donation sheet came from Elijah's Promise today. We've reached $9,000. I'm not sure where we're supposed to be at this point. It's pretty far from $38,000, but will provide 3600 meals. Guess the plate is half full! Seriously, tell your friends and neighbors about this epic quest, send them to the site, ask them to donate.

Well, with food prices going up, it may not be 3600 meals. I did my grocery shopping today and broke the $200 mark for the first time ever. That and $40 worth of gas to fill my little Toyota Matrix suggests that the economy really is tanking.

The really big news- Chris has accepted a position with a law firm in Denver! He won't have to rent that big yellow truck and move again. I'll miss him, but with that new salary, he can fly me out, we'll ski, we'll im, we'll talk on the phone. All is well. And I've promised not to break anything next time we ski. (He says he'll make me take a lesson).

Chris is the man behind this blog's green curtain. If he doesn't want to share the news with the world, this paragraph will be gone by tomorrow. (Really Chris, it's ok to be the Adam Smith to my blog).

It's late. I'm going to ride 80-100 miles tomorrow in the rain. Need to go to bed.

Bye.

Cross country hussle

2008-05-07T20:04:00.002-04:00

I could do the ride in 9.2 days! Bear with me on this. Today was a good, and I assure you, not a delusional riding day. My after-work “quickie” was quick- 22 miles at 17.2 m.p.h. That’s pretty fast, so being the scientist that I am, I did the math. 3,800 miles divided by 17.2 mph is 220 hours, which divided by 24 hours is 9.2 days. Ok, so sleep would be nice. Change the calculation to riding 12 hours per day and we’re up to 18 days for the crossing. So what will I do with those other 34 days?

Blogger madness- double clicking on the picture (remember yesterday’s lesson) will help you through this. Chris has given me a tool to data mine my blog. As of today, we’ve had over 300 visitors! Yipee. But a closer analysis shows that 52% of the people who come to the page leave in 5 seconds- the equivalent of a cyberspace wrong number. (Maybe I shouldn’t have used “free Viagra” as one of my Google identifiers.) Interestingly, 34% of visits last longer than an hour. Is there that much thought provoking content in the blog, or do people just leave their computer on while they leave to do their laundry? Finally, I can tell how many people are new and how many visitors return every day. There are four or five regulars. Thanks for coming back, Bob. Your coffee cup is on the counter.

Get the most out of your blog experience

2008-05-06T23:08:00.004-04:00

Here are a few hints to increase your blogging pleasure as you return to my site again and again.

-If you want to see a bigger version of a picture in a posting, double click on it! Yes, go to the picture of my bike, double clip, and see the pattern of the carbon fiber, the exquisite lettering of "immortal pro", and the very cool wheels. You can also do this with pictures of people, places, or other things that are less interesting than my bike.

-The map. The map is chock full of information that you'll really enjoy as you watch me travel across the country. First, the little figure on the bicycle is me. : - ) On May 29, that figure will jump on a plane and reappear on the West coast, from which it will move, ever so slowly, to the East coast, chronicling my day to day movement. It is, of course, much farther on the ground than on the screen. Other neat features- if you click on "terr" on the upper right hand corner of the map, the terrain will pop up and you will see all the mountains and valleys of the journey. If you use the + - slider, you can zoom in or out to see how incredibly high those mountains really are. You can use the magic hand to pull the map in various directions so that you can zoom in to the place where I am. Go ahead, practice before all the fun begins. Oh yes, on the bottom where it says "View larger map," quess what happens when you double click on it?
That's right.

Things are still very pressured at school, and at home, but Matt is officially back from school and just got a job! There is rain in the forecast for Friday, but I'm still planning on back-to-back long rides for Friday and Saturday. I hate to see my bike get wet, but it's a sure bet that there will be rain at some point during the trip.

Face of America 2008

2008-05-06T14:27:00.001-04:00

It sounds like a cliché, but it really is a privilege to ride with disabled vets, active duty, and retired military. There is a sense of community and responsibility for each other that is hard to describe. It’s so impressive to see warriors without arms or legs gut it out going up a hill. And to see everyone’s positive attitude, although it was strange when they kept calling me “Sir.” (as in “Good morning, sleep well last night?” Yes, *Sir* I slept very well and hope you did too, Sir.”) I made some small contributions by fixing a soldiers bike that was stuck in the hardest gear. He was ready to quit, but some oil on the chains, derailleur, and cable was all it took to get his “donated” rust bucket back on the road. At the end of the ride, I broke down a bike for shipping and boxed it up; have done that more than a few times. The ride had some organizational problems. The worst of these was to have us ride in “units” that traveled at the speed of the slowest riders. This was excruciatingly slow and caused some accidents for people who couldn’t keep their bikes upright going 2.3 mph up hills. This brings us to Farrood, the cyclist in the picture. It just hurt him too badly to go that slow, so he broke formation and took off. We followed him and got yelled at, “You’re leaving men behind!” “No, sir (see, I learned the magic word) we’re protecting this soldier who’s going ahead.” So we formed the unit pictured above. One man rode ahead of Farrood to watch for traffic and road hazards. One man road with Farrood and gave him a boost up the hills. Deb and I took up the rear, so that cars could see us first and Deb could alert the rest, “Car back!” The two kids came from out of nowhere and were like the crew in ET. It was, at times, hard to keep up with Farrood. Farrood is a rare man. He works for Special Forces, was just promoted to Major, and is still active military. Farrood is Iraqi and has seen three uncles and eleven cousins killed because of his work with the U.S. He applied for asylum in the U.S. two years ago and still hasn’t heard…

I’m swamped and getting a little stressed out. Before leaving in 22 days, I have to get everything at work squared away during the busiest time of the academic year. Then there are all the items that go into “running a house” while I’m away. Bills still need to be paid, mail dealt with, the cat cared for, etc. Matt can help with only some of these things. There is also prep for the trip itself, more training, ordering extra tubes and tires, taking care of getting my bike shipped to the West Coasts, making some enhancements to the blog, etc. So I may fall behind in keeping this current. I know, I shouldn’t whine…..

Blog Break

2008-05-01T20:01:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow I'm going down to Bethesda, MD with Deb to ride in a WORLD T.E.A.M. SPORTS (see previous blog) event. It starts Saturday, at the Capital Cresant Trail (see previous blog) and ends at Gettysburg, Pa on Sunday. So I won't be blogging util Monday or Tuesday. It will be moving and humbling to ride with wounded vets. Deb got her own wound and almost didn't get to ride. Last night she fell off her bike, generating a dislocated fracture (or fractured dislocation), a two inch lacertion, and the sacrifice of her new gloves that were cut off by the EMT. At any rate, the Doc said she was still good to ride.

Today's trivia question: Guess how many miles I rode in April? Find the answer at the bottom of April 29 post. Hint: The milage is excessive. For the rest of the month, I'm going to work on strengthening my core, learning some yoga stretches, and doing some back-to-back 85 mile rides.

p.s. the pictured finger isn't Deb's. She wouldn't give me the finger. = : - o

2008-05-01T01:59:00.005-04:00

There are some images from the rides that I’d like to share.

My first ride, from Boston to NYC had a “ride out” at 6 a.m., we had to be there at 5 a.m., so I checked out of my hotel at 4:30 a.m. You could look down every street a see a rider in the darkness, with his duffle and his bike, heading to the starting line. I see that moment whenever I hear “Peace Train:” “Out on the edge of darkness, there lies a peace train..” Coffee is a diuretic, so they didn’t serve it at the start. There was a Starbucks two miles out on the route. The site of 80 bicycles outside the store is memorable. Two final images- riding into Madison Square Garden, and the victory lap down 8th Ave.

The Charity Trek Rides are full of great visuals. I have a mental picture of a general store in New Hampshire with lots of cyclists sitting on the porch eating ice cream. It tasted great after 100 mile riding. The next day’s picture was funnier. The general store 8 miles from camp sold beer. Mmmm, beer. So we all sit on the porch with a cool one. The store owner throws us out telling us that he’s allowed to sell, but not serve. So we defiantly sit on the curb across the street. The Constable drives up. He waves, laughs, and drives away.

RAGBRAI is the (Des Moines) Register’s Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa. Can you picture me sitting on a curb with an Iowan discussing commodity crops? He just couldn’t get his arms around the fact that NJ has no commodities. There are 15,000 riders in RAGBRAI. Imagine and older Amish man, coveralls, beard, big hat, sitting on a rocker on his from porch and watching us all go by. (They say that there are two parades at RAGBRAI; the riders watching the locals go by and the locals watching the riders go by.

I’ve ridden with WORLD TEAM SPORTS many times. The first ride was on the one year anniversary of 9/11. It started at “the pit” and finished at the Pentagon’s blast site. Imagine, outside our (me and my long time friend and sagina, Rosanne) window, right outside our window, was the memorial twin beams of light going up to the heavens. A Danish photographer asked if she could come in to take her picture from our window. A picture of those twin beams hangs in my kitchen. The next year Rosanne and I did the ride on a tandem. Can you picture an 80-something Polish war vet who was a double amputee pulling in behind us and asking if he could draft for a while? I’ve gotten pretty far down in this post without mentioning the heroes of WTS. They are combat personnel who’ve returned from their tours minus limb(s). These folks are real athletes. Most use handcycles and have chiseled upper bodies that would put David to shame. One guy flipped over going down the entrance ramp to a highway. I was freaked. He was stoic. “You grab under my armpits. You grab my stumps. Put me on the bike.” And off he went. It’s pretty humbling to be on a WORLD TEAM SPORTS ride.

Three other Pedaling Professors

2008-04-29T21:28:00.003-04:00

If you Google “pedaling professor,” you’ll get three hits beside me. The first was not a transcontinental rider, but the supposed inventor of mountain biking. He was killed by an ex-con who he hired to be his gardener. Not relevant to my story. The second is Yoshi Haga, an art professor from South Hampton College. He took a lot of pictures and raised $8,000 for a scholarship fund. The last “pedaling professor is Louis Mendoza, from the University of Minnesota, who peddled to study the Latinoization of America. There you have it, there are four pedaling professors. Three of us are still alive. : - )

Miles ridden in April = 684

2008-04-28T20:48:00.003-04:00

IAQs (Infrequently Asked Questions.) Send in yours and we’ll put them on the list.

What’s the farthest you’ve ever ridden in a day? 130 miles
What’s the fastest you’ve ever gone? 46.5 mph. Downhill, but that’s still pretty fast. I tried to break that with a goal of 50 mph, but at some point over 40 mph, the bike started to shimmy, shake, and went out of control for 3-4 seconds. That seemed like a long time. I don’t care if I beat 46.5 anymore.
How much weight do you lose on a ride? It depends of how far and how fast I go. It’s not hard to burn 4-5,000 calories in a day. But then again, it’s not hard to eat 4-5,000 calories in a day. On some rides, I have gained weight.
How many miles per gallon do you get on that? (Usually yelled by a guy in a pick up truck at a stop light.) 1,050 mpg (They teach you how to do these calculations at MIT). The 1,050 assumes 15 miles per hour and 35,000 Calories in a gallon of gas. I use this calculation to teach my classes that a calorie is a unit of energy. Unfortunately, when one factors in the cost of a food calories vs. a gasoline calorie, it’s still cheaper to drive.
What are you riding? I’m riding a full carbon Motobecane Immortal Pro (love the name). It's shown above, but you can see a bigger picture and get all the details at http://www.bikesdirect.com/products/motobecane/immortalpro_08.htm
For folks like my mom, it’s black with red lettering and has been accessorized with red handlebar tape and matching twin red water bottles. I top this off with a red helmet, red gloves, a red jersey, and for special occasions, black and red cycling shorts.
What’s the best part of a ride? Getting off the bike at the end of the day.
What’s the most surprising thing about cycling as a hobby? That chains are “consumables.” How many people are in your group? Where are you staying? What kind of support do you have? Etc. See the America by Bicycle web site.

A non-riding day

2008-04-28T19:37:00.005-04:00

April 28 It didn't start to rain until I was home and made supper for Matt. Rain is one thing, but rain and riding in the dark is another. So here's some miscellanea,
Bob pointed out that the Delaware Raritan Canal is more correctly The Delaware and Raritan Canal. Build ~ 1830 by Irish immigrants, it's 36 miles long and 50 feet wide. The longest thinnest state park in NJ. The canal carried coal from PA to NYC (ok, the boats on the canal carried...) and had more traffic than the Erie Canal. A map is included. The red lines approximate the route of my 85 mile ride a few days back. Another correction, Kevin doesn't "giggle," he "jiggles." Hoever, out of context, I think he'd rather giggle than jiggle.

A cool blog feature: If you click "terr" on the map, you get the terrain. By using the + or minus you can zoom in or out. The arrows move the map up down, left or right. You can use this fun feature to find how far I've climbed on a given day. If you haven't figure it out, the red line is the rides route.

2008-04-27T19:42:00.002-04:00

There is a training truism that you need to train in all kinds of weather, hot, cold, wet, windy, because you’ll undoubtedly have endure them on The Ride. So today was a wonderful training opportunity, it was cold, windy and driving rain. The training trifecta. (My brother Bob told me not to worry about using fragments in my blog.) If I went out right after church, I could get 3 or 4 hours of cold and wet in! But alas, at the end of church, they made the announcement about the “work day” (which I had forgotten about even though I’m on the property committee) that afternoon. Being on the property committee and a member of the church council, I decided to sacrifice my ride for the love of God and for the good of the greater church.
First Kevin took me up a lot of ladders into the church’s attic to replace a burned out light bulb in the ceiling. When Kevin jiggled it, it went back on. Oh well. At least I know the secret passageways now. Then we went over to the Christian Ed Building to replace more light bulbs. I know what you’re thinking- how many professors does it take to change a light bulb? Well there was only one professor, so I had to take 13-times longer to do it. Finally, we replaced ceiling tiles that were damaged in the last driving rain. (Yes, we *did* have the roof repaired before replacing the tiles.) We finished around 2:30, left the building, and lo and behold – God had acknowledged my sacrifice! She parted the clouds, let the warm front come in, and adorned my path with singing birds and deer frolicking in the meadow.
-Does anyone know the emoticon for tongue in cheek?-
Well, ok, the ride was cold, damp and cloudy. 28 miles, 16.2 mph (ave), 85 rpm. Saw a goose with a slew of chicks next to the canal. Kind of cute, when she saw me, they all scooted underneath her and she did the hissing thing.
Today’s road kill: Deer- 3 by sight, 1 by smell. 1 snake by the feel of it under my wheel. I’m not sure that the snake should count since it’s a cold-blooded invertebrate, but don’t want to be accused of specie-ism.
The picture shows Pastor Jeff in front of our “we love everybody who loves anybody” sign. (We a Reconciling in Christ congregation, but I think that love sums us up.) See www.emanuelnb.org

Technically bumbling along

2008-04-26T19:56:00.005-04:00

Today was Ag Field Day so I cylced down to campus and took the long way home. It's always good to see former students after they've grown up....

But today's magic effort is pulling photos off my phone. With any luck, you'll see "my canal" (the Delaware Raritan Canal, with the falls and my finger) and the C & O canal in D.C. Damn, my "file is corrupt or in a unusable format." Yea, I've never seen a .bin which saved as an html neither of which is one of the four formats this blog site accepts. I should stick to riding a bike...

45 minutes later- I think I have the work around solution. Copy the impage, paste it into powerpoint, save as jpeg and up load. Let's see if that works. Yipee!!!

My first "all day ride"

2008-04-25T19:18:00.001-04:00

Any training session should have one or more purpose. Today’s were: 1. to get out of bed and ride. My usual drill is to get up, make coffee, have breakfast, do some chores and roll out around ten or eleven. On the Big Rides, the drill is get up (at 6) get dressed, eat, and be on the road by 7 or 7:30. Today, I gave myself some slack, got up at 6:30 and was on the road at 7:30. There is something special about the crispness of the air in an early morning ride that makes it worth it. 2. work on posture. This is a continuing goal, Jay (remember Jay?) pointed out that I ride hunched over limiting my lung capacity and hurting my neck. Part of my problem is core (trunk) strength. I haven’t been taking care of this since breaking my ribs. Guess it’s time to start doing those sit-ups. 3. endurance The only way to gain endurance is to spend a lot of time in the saddle. Today was the first day this season that I’ve spent all day on the bike. 4. Hills. If you avoid them, you’ll never get good at them. And I expect lots of hills riding across country this summer. If you seek them out, you start to love them, and they become not such a big deal.

So I did great on three out of four. Rode 84 miles at 15.7 mph ave through rolling hills. North Brunswick through the Saurland Mountains to Lambertville, up (literally) Rt 29 on the East side of the Delaware River to Frenchtown (had a nice egg sandwich for lunch there) to Rt 12 to Flemington, around a few traffic circles (which I had hoped to avoid) and then back on 514, aka, Amwell Road. Oh yes, according to my cyclo-computer, I burned 5,375 calories!

Tomorrow’s Ag Field Day at the College. I’m going to wear my Rutgers cycling jersey and try to convince some alums to donate.

Dilemma and Dining

2008-04-24T21:41:00.005-04:00

Remember yesterday's clothing dilemma? Well business causal works just fine in the box seats, as do blue blazers and white shirts and even suits. (Suits to a ball game? Yea and that guy was drinking Scotch, not beer.) No tee shirts in this part of the park. The Washington National's stadium is only a month old, all the staff people are still happy to have jobs and are nice. The Mets won. (There were lots of Mets fans in the crowd.)

Mikes Famous Harley-Davidson Showroom and Road House Restaurant. Remember that. You've probably seen the big Harley sign if you're going north from Delaware to NJ. Forget about all the God forsaken food and insipid crowds at Maryland House. Go just a little further north and stop at Mikes. It's *just* before the Delaware Memorial Bridge, but is a very easy off and an equally easy back on. The Road House is funky and features food like pulled pork sandwiches, Buffalo Wing sandwiches, burgers, fried shrimp, road house food. All cooked to order and mmm mmm good. You have to walk through the Harley show room to get to the bathroom (increased traffic = increased sales?), but if you're doing the pee-pee dance on the way in, take the time to look on the way out. Since it's about motorCYCLES, this blog isn't off topic.

DC Rides, DC Dilemma

2008-04-23T10:16:00.002-04:00

The Capital Crescent Trail is as nice a ride as you’ll ever find. You’ll find it if you ride down “K” Street toward the Potomac and, when K dead ends under the overpass, just keep going. (The “under the overpass” is a funky place with shops and up scale places to eat, in what could be a Batman set.) At any rate, the paved path runs along the canal, which is quite pretty and flat. After that, there is a gentle climb through beautiful green forests along some streams, past what must be Dick Chaney’s country club, and then up to Bethesda. That’s probably the highpoint, very yuppie town, a very weird intersection that makes you wonder if you’ve lost the trail. Just follow the sign near the parking lot and choose any one of the crosswalks. (There is a bike shop on the right somewhere around here.) The trail goes on for a few more miles but is weird, going through what seems like an industrial basement, through an auto body repair shop, and then onto streets that lead to the Silver Springs Metro stop. This part of the trail could used some TLC.

The karma of the Capital Crescent Trail reminded me a lot of Boston’s Esplanade. There were lots of runners, walkers, folks with their kids, and of course, cyclists. All sorts of cyclists. (Yes, I know that’s a fragment, give me some poetic license.) There were decked-out cyclists with matching shorts and jerseys, huffing puffing cyclists determined to get some exercise, cyclists who just wanted to get out after work, and the commuters with their panniers, dangling ID cards, and 10,000 watt LEDs. The trip was 24 miles round trip from my hotel, just the right distance to fit in after work, but before dusk. This ride was reason enough to have brought the bike.

If you’re hungry, follow the students. I’m staying at the River Inn, near George Washington University. I followed the students to find my dinner. They led me to a pub, a Chinese place, a pizza joint and an Indian restaurant -all in the same block of Pennsylvania Ave. A bunch of Indian guys in traditional garb walked out, so I walked in. The lamb kabobs were outstanding!

The dilemma I’ve been invited to watch the Nationals play the Mets from the box seat of (sorry I can’t say who)(No, not George W, or even GHWB, or that multinational food company, so don’t guess). What do I wear? My wardrobe consists of business casual and cycle gear- neither are quite right for the ballgame. I guess a sports coat would be less bad than spandex and a fluorescent green wind jacket. I should have packed that cool sweater from Mexico….

April 24, 2008. Greetings from our Nation’s Capital

2008-04-22T14:10:00.002-04:00

Yes folks, I’m working in Washington, D.C. this week. It’s for my day job. The U.S. Department of Agriculture has a grant review panel that brings experts to this great city to decide who gets funded and who does not. As work related assignments go, it’s a good gig. The Feds always put us up in great boutique hotels that we couldn’t afford on my own. We get a few extra bucks (tire, tube, and jersey money) and it’s fun to work with some of the smartest people in the country. AND it’s a new place to ride my bike.

Washington is a great town to cycle in. Lots of folks cycle to work, cruising around the mall and the monuments. By commuting “to work” I feel like one of the natives. It’s not clear how my fellow panelists view this, so I use lots of deodorant. Cycling during the morning commute is a whole new way to see our Nation’s capital. It’s only a 3.5 miles from the hotel to work, but there are always opportunities for riding in the evening.

Trivial points: We have wireless at work, so I can blog during the breaks. The security guard is letting me park in the basement garage and didn’t make me put the bike through security. My bike for the week is my 30+ year old Motobecane Super Mirage. To think it was cutting edge in its day…

2008-04-20T09:34:00.000-04:00

Cycling equipment. Like most hobbies cycling can get expensive. When I started, I thought that all you needed was a bike, sneakers, a tee shirt and a pair of shorts. Ha! You need cycling shorts (have 6, lightly padded, heavily padded, warm or cool weather, black or decorated), jerseys (14, more than # of dress shirts)), water bottles (8, every event gives you one), water bottle holders (1 or 2 per bike), a Camelback (for my recumbent that doesn’t accommodate water bottles), “trunk bags” (2, for keeping things on a long ride), saddle bags (3, for tools and tubes on short rides) , Chains, they are “consumables” that have to be replaced after a few thousand miles (the gears are good for about 5,000 miles), a floor pump for your shop, a mini pump for on the road, a lock, a cycle computer, spare tubes (5 at the moment- make that 4, had my first flat today), a spare tire, a mirror, cycling gloves (7, two pair that light up, two pair that are heavily padded, and three pair that are junky), a patch kit, tire levers, cycling shoes, cleats to go on the cycling shoes, cleat covers for when you’re not cycling, cycling socks, a wind jacket, a rain jacket, a vest, a mini-tool kit for on the road, a chain cleaner thing, solvent to put in the chain cleaner, lubricant for the chain, `a work stand that elevates the whole bike, a rear wheel stand for minor repairs, power bars, sports drinks, front and rear lights, butt cream, pedals (4 extra pair) (did you know that high end bikes come without pedals?) sunglasses (5), leg warmers, arm warmers and skull caps for cold weather riding. 4 extra saddles (on the path to finding one that fit my butt), helmets (4, they get pretty raunchy after a year or two on a sweaty head), a drawer full of small parts (I take after my dad, who has coffee cans full of screws and nails, sorted by size in the garage.) Note that these items were accumulated over 8 years. Like my dad, I never throw anything away.

I picked up a cyclist with a flat about a mile from my house and brought him home to give him a new tube. When I went into the kitchen to get him a drink, he called someone on his cell phone, “I got picked up by a guy who has a bike shop in his garage… - It must have been the five bikes hanging from the ceiling.

Fundraising is harder than riding.

2008-04-18T12:18:00.004-04:00

$38,000 is a lot of money. What was I thinking? Ten dollars a mile seemed pretty reasonable until I started doing the math. It will take 100 people donating $380 to reach that goal. I doubt that will happen. We could go after 1,000 people for $38 dollars each, but that’s a lot of people. Corporate sponsors (or donors) haven’t been forthcoming. (If you work for a company that might donate, let us know!) It will take a mix of all denominations from all sorts of people to get us to $38,000 dollars.

People are incredibly generous. It’s very humbling. A retired professor, who I know only in passing, e-mailed his encouragement and sent in a $380 check (only 99 more people to go!). Someone I worked with 20 years ago sent in another $380 check, as did a former girlfriend (97 people to go). A member of my church gave me $500 in an envelope. Students have walked up to me with $50 checks. On a student’s budget, that’s a lot - and these are not students in my class trying to influence their grades! I could go on, the acts of individual generosity are many.

Michelle, Elijah’s Promise’s development diva is dynamite. She set up the “kick off” event. It attracted not only the football team, but lots of press. This resulted in “above the fold” coverage in three papers. However one paper put my picture in the obituary section. I’m not sure what that means. When I write donor letters to my friends, Michelle gets them into a readable format, back to me to sign, and mails them out. She keeps track of the money coming in and all the thank you letters going out. Having raised funds for other rides on my own, I really appreciate Michelle. She lets me concentrate on riding, not fundraising.

$38,000 is a lot of money. We will get there.