Monday, October 11, 2010

It was 5:00 am...

It was 5:00 am; I was struggling to get out of my sleeping bag and to get up off the concrete floor.  “Where the hell am I, and who are all these old guys moaning and groaning,” I thought?  Slowly, several things came to mind.  I am one of the old guys, about 15 of us had spent the night in sleeping bags on the concrete floor of the basement of the campground owner’s house, I had to pee really, really bad and I ached from head to toe.  And the day before, I had, along with these guys and about 30 other folks, ridden in a hard rain 22 miles up the side of a 2390’ hill, crossed the Mason Dixon line and crossed through the Eastern Great Continental Divide and ridden 23 more miles down to a little town, Rockwood, PA, where I was now struggling to get out of that sleeping bag.  Other than that, Ms. Lincoln, how was the play?  A couple of months ago, when I signed up for this, it seemed like a really good idea.  This morning, not so sure…
Looking around, I marveled at the collection of guys stretched out in their sleeping bags, or just moving like me, unwinding legs and arms after a long night on a concrete floor.  Tall guys, fat guys, wiry guys, average guys, old guys and older guys.  And the noises.  I never heard so many noises coming out of a group of men in my life.  Stretching, moaning, sneezes, farts, burps, groans, coughs and noises I couldn’t begin to define the origin of.  All we needed was a piccolo, a trombone and some fruitcake strutting around with a baton and we’d have a band the likes of which John Phillip Souza would be proud.
How could this group of collectables, along with the other 30 or so men and women camped out around the campground possibly have the physical will and capability to ride up that mountain in the rain yesterday?  Hell, even without the rain?  But they did.  All 43 of us rode up that hill and lived, although some in various states of pain, to ride another day.  And we had two and a half last days to go.
I get ahead of myself here, so let’s go back to the beginning, where it all started and see if I can put some sense to it all.
It had been a couple of years since the last time I went off on one of these journeys and again, family and friends ask my "Why".  Unlike "Bob's River Ride" where I really had only a little idea of why, this time I knew exactly why.  It's all about fitness, adventure and perhaps, closure.

This ride was to take me from Washington, DC to Pittsburgh, PA, approximately 335 miles along two trails, The C&O Canal and the Great Allegheny Passage, both important in the early formation of our country and later important in the great struggle to hold the new country together - the civil war.  It also would take me close to the roots of my maternal family's home and history, my mother's parents, my grandparents, who were instrumental in raising me as a boy growing up in Los Angeles.  They moved to Hollywood, from Uniontown, PA in the early 20's and built the home in which I was raised.

A wise friend also suggested this ride might also be about closure. Perhaps a trip to complete the one I rode a couple of years ago, falling short of my goal of a ride from Muscatine, IA, to New Orleans.  Although I did not go the entire distance, I did, for sure, accomplish a great deal in terms of distance, difficulty, people met and places seen. So perhaps this is also a way of completing the first trip, even though a different route and manner of traveling. 

From a historical point of view, and from a very personal point of view, this adventure was exciting to anticipate and I was sure, would be exciting to execute.

Training for this ride started way back in November, and was accelerated once good weather came to Chicagoland - that would be once the snow melted - and has progressed to the point that I could comfortably ride 50 miles a day for the 7 days required for this trip.

There are my family and a close group of friends who could just shake their heads and roll their eyes at all this.  “An intelligent adult his age should probably not be off on these adventures”, was I'm sure, what was foremost on their minds.  However, they all smiled, encouraged, asked questions and expressed support for my trip.  Thank you one and all.  Your support is greatly appreciated.

Unlike bobsriverride, where I rode for the 700 miles alone, i.e., “Unsupported”, this is a "Supported" tour, with 44 riders and a support staff of 7 from all over the USA participating.  The tour is led by experienced leaders and riders, tour guides and caterers all under the umbrella of Adventure Cycling Association, a wonderful bike-oriented lobbying group, tour operator and resource center for all things, bike touring.  The idea that I am not riding alone on back roads through strange territory allows for family and friends to breathe easier about all of this although I suspect some of the family still faintly hears the theme song, "Dueling Banjos" in their minds. Yikes!

My bike left for Washington DC, the starting point, 7 days before I was due there.  It was like saying goodbye to an old friend as I watched it truck away.  I was excited, a little intimidated and ready for whatever would come.

I had great faith, however, that it would all be great fun.

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