Month: January 2015

Dateline: September 6, 2014, Greenville, Ohio

The Tour De
Donut

My journey to Ohio and beyond was timed to take advantage of a truly unique opportunity to bag Ohio- a bike race and competitive eating duathlon called the Tour De Donut. I found it online searching for 50 in the Fifties events, and it had my name written all over it in powdered sugar. How could I resist?

September 5, I took care of the dogs while Jen did her flight surgery gig at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.

After work, we drove up to early check in after checking the bikes- my front tire flat again… Disaster looming. We got lost on the way through flat farm country to a lame check in which left us thinking things were going to be chaotic. No shirts, no maps, no service.

Back in Beavercreek, where we were carbo loading for the race, Jen said, “Gee, I wonder if we should find a bike shop and see about that tire.” As luck would have it, there was a shop right across the street, so  I drove the tire over there and explained how it was flat- The bike mechanic said it looked ok… Nearly new, in fact.  But I bought a tube anyway (the best decision I ever made!) and went back to dinner. We had black bean burgers and turned in early- 6 am alarm.

Race day! Ok, so we took care of the dogs and hit the rd- I had my car behind Jen’s- I almost asked her to check my tire- but I didn’t. We get there 8 am- 30 minutes to spare and I get the bike out and then go for the tire and… “It’s flat. ” Thought it was all over right there- but I had the new tube and went to look for help- found none while Jen grabbed a tire wrench and got started. How a perfectly good tire can go flat 3 times in 2 days after 2 trips to 2 bike shops is unfathomable. Miraculously, as the raindrops started then stopped, Jen changed that tire.

We thought we would ride 2 miles, the tire would go flat, and we’d be done, but we rode the 32. A little ways in, a man held his hand up to signal a large group and in a split second flipped over his handlebars. Jen and I stopped. She’s a doctor, after all. Such a big guy, but he fell well and was at least oriented enough to check his watch for the date.

Due to the flat tire and the bike accident, we ended up missing the tight cut off for the 64 which I will not let happen again. I’m no doctor, and I’m going to plow through the wreckage and make short work of the rest stops waiting only long enough to eat half dozen donuts each time. Donut count for the 2 of us- 7. Donut count for me- 6. Hills encountered- 2. One was down into the rest stop, then up out of it. My brakes were squeaky on the way down and the guy in front of me seemed to think I was going to lose control of the bike, as he nervously murmured- “steep hill…” I reassured him that I had control of the hurtling descent… People here don’t know from hills. It’s pancake flat, corn and soybeans both sides all the way to the horizon.

I pulled over just after the first rest stop and picked a soybean for us to share. No sun, cool, lovely, no traffic, roads all closed. There were people in Viking costumes who had speakers to play their iphones and as the rain started, then stopped, a song came on that referenced rain, and I wondered if his phone selected the song for that. I think the tech is there for it. Later heard Addicted to Love, and I tried to stay with those riders but Jen wears that Air Force top and everyone wants to chat her up and we lose precious minutes.

This is probably the only competitive eating-biking biathlon in the country (though there are other venues) and I think I may have found my niche. I could easily have eaten a dozen doughnuts over 2 rest stops if I hadn’t been afraid to give it my all.  Honestly I didn’t want my name all over the internet as the Donut section winner of the Ohio Tour de Donut. This could be an annual ride with Jen stationed here and next year I’m eating to win- oh, and riding some, too.

Despite the problems we faced today, we did get to ride, we did conquer Ohio, and it didn’t really rain. Our luck held after all. I am forever grateful to Jen for suggesting a bike shop check, and that new tube- it’s still holding air 4 months later.

Dateline: Shankesville, PA, September 4, 2014

Started the day with the flight 93 memorial. On the way there I was blinded by the glare of thousands of car windshields, which in NJ would be a dealership but in this part of PA is an auto graveyard. I wondered if there were 3000 cars in there- to match the number of 9/11 fatalities, and I was already teary. It was another cloudless, perfect day near Shanksville, PA The Memorial is still under construction, but they plan a visitors center which is broken in 2 by the flight path. There is a memorial wall with the 40 names, among them Todd Beamer and Mark Bingham , and Honor Elizabeth Wainio.  Honor…

 

The land is a reclaimed strip mine field from the 90s, now a varied grassland filled with birdsong, butterflies, damsel and dragonflies. As time passed and I read the placards explaining how 40 people took a vote and decided to try to retake control of the plane, the minutes passed and I found myself at the scene on a September day at the exact time that the passengers acted. It was humbling and sad and triumphant all at once.

I took pictures of sunflowers at a state game land right nearby and I thought what it meant to save that Capitol building and wondered again if I would have been brave if it were me.

Continuing on the road, I followed 76 into Ohio and then set off in search of the National Rd, route 40. Easy enough to find snippets of it, hard to stay on it. But I was thrilled to find 3 S bridges and after a fashion figured out how to find the road.

I found a place where it was possible to view all the routes into Ohio from one spot- Zane’s Trace, Route 70, the railroad, route 40, and the National Road. I made one obscure right turn and I found a piece of bricked National Road. There was a highway worker there and I pulled up behind him and started taking pictures- he asked if he was in my way and I said no- I asked if people drove on the road- he said yes, and I asked if I could. Up I went, me and 1828, paved with bricks 1918, and perfectly kept homes on a ridge, older couples out mowing their grass, living on this marvelous piece of the past.  If you are driving west from NJ to Ohio and beyond, check out the National Road- you will not be disappointed.

I didn’t leave the National Rd until Zanesville, and I looked wistfully at pieces of it from highway 70 at 70 mph.  Made Beavercreek, Ohio at 4:30 and met up with my best friend, Jen, who is a flight surgeon in the US Air Force and an all around athletics nut like me. By 6:30 we were at a dinner with Chuck Berry, and Mike Berry, both air force aerospace guys. Chuck Berry was the NASA flight surgeon for all the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo Flights. Michael Barratt was a featured speaker- an astronaut and doctor. A real live rocket scientist- 281 days in space, 2 spacewalks. And a nice guy. There was another guy there, a flyboy, he looked like a politician and lit up the room, like Howard Dean but without the wacky gleam in his eyes.  He will get elected to something.  Jen hangs out with some smart, brave people, and she fits right in. Let’s see, though, if she’s ready to bag Ohio with me.

Dateline: Bernardsville, NJ, September 3, 2014

I’m taking a solo vacation. No husband, no kids (well, one I’m going to visit along the way), no dog, no particular schedule. I’m very excited at the prospect of being responsible only for myself and to myself for the first time in 28 years. Last time I was responsible only for myself I had shackled myself to people and places I never thought to break free of- not the case now.

Of course, getting ready to be free requires a lot of planning and preparation. I feel like I am about to set off under cover of darkness to begin a journey on the Underground Railroad. I feel I have to set everything up so that my absence won’t be fatal to the husband, dog, house, and grown children. Absitively for sure when my husband and girls hit the road, they don’t give a millisecond’s thought to what they need to do to make my life sustainable in their absence.  I do. I’m a mom. People are afraid they will miss us or need us if we leave. Funny story- My sister -in-law, Carol, told me that one day when her three kids were 6,5, and 3, she tried to duck out to the barn to feed the horses. The oldest stood forlornly in his socks and plaintively whined, “You can’t just LEAVE us…” But, there comes a time when we can, we should, we must.

I did all my chores and said goodbye to the dog, and decided to go a half day early and break up the trip. First destination-Dayton, Ohio. Doesn’t everybody dream of Dayton? My husband has already asked me twice when I’ll be back.  But this is a major trip for 50 in the Fifties- I’m hoping to conquer Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri.

I was gifted a lovely sunny day and the drive was wonderful, miles sliding away into PA, The Alleghenies to the north in that memorable flat ridge, sometimes to the south too. I had the feeling my little dog, Morgan, was with me but then I remembered. He was disappearing into the couch with depression, wanted nothing to do with me as he saw me throw the bag in and he just knew I was leaving him. He’ll have to suck it up. This trip is for me and Em and Jen. Mostly me.

The rest stops were deserted, immaculate. I decided to go to a state park called Blue Knob, stretch my legs. Drove like 15 miles out of the way to get there and it too was deserted. It was the kind of place I could hear Phil saying- don’t hike alone here. I did it anyway for 30 min or so on a switchback trail. I was nervous about leaving the car. I made plans for how to keep the key if someone took my fanny pack. Then after the walk I remembered that Laura hiked all over New Zealand and South America, sometimes alone. Saw a couple of really beautiful barns and the clouds were huge and the lighting dramatic over them and the ridges and the corn were illuminated and the soybeans darkest of green. Got back on the highway- sun was in my eyes after a fashion and I stopped in Somerset, PA -which seemed fitting since that’s where I started- Somerset County, NJ. Found a Hampton Inn (my favorite) and it is hard by the Flight 93 memorial so I will see that at 9 tomorrow then head on. I think I have about 250 miles to go. Jen won’t be home till 4:30 so I should have time even with the late start. Can’t wait to see the National Road!

Dateline: August 20, 2014- near North Conway New Hampshire, White Mountain National Forest

Big family join-up at my mom’s house in Maine on August 19 set us up for a dawn assault on the Mount Washington summit today. My hiking companions were my husband, Phil, and my eldest daughter, Laura. Arrival at the trailhead for the Tuckerman’s Ravine Trail was closer to 11 am than dawn, however, especially since Laura ran into a couple of close college chums who were working the summer as guides for the Appalachian Mountain Club and they got chatting. Weather, perfect, sunny, warm, no wind.  The worst weather in the world and the highest recorded wind speeds (231 mph) occur on Mt. Washington, so don’t try this unless things look good at the base of the mountain- no telling what you’ll find at the summit, 6,288 feet up. The highest peak east of the Mississippi.

We wended our way without any problems, admiring the views and taking some pictures

UNTIL we hit a snag. Phil, who hikes annually in the Adirondacks with 20 something year old men was slowing up, feeling dizzy, stopping frequently, and gasping for breath. We were a couple hours in and working pretty hard when it hit. He didn’t want to stop and we were above tree line, climbing over large boulders in a scree field.

We thought about turning back but we could see the summit and the hike down was going to be daunting in that condition, so we continued, slowly, to climb.  We found him a bench, sat him down at the summit- which was crawling with people who had driven up or taken the train. Laura stayed with him while I searched for a shuttle down- and although I would have thought there would be frequent shuttles, I would have thought wrong. We waited perhaps an hour for the last shuttle of the day to go. There also was no medical care to be had at the summit- it’s so easy to drive up, and so many people do it, I would have thought…

We descended via shuttle, Phil was doing fine- seemed to be blitzed by the experience but recovered quickly and we were absolutely famished from the climb.  We found a terrific sandwich shop and ate Cuban sandwiches, then drove back to Maine, and counted our blessings.  No wind, no weather, even at the summit. So lucky.  Besides the health scare, we had a wonderful time. Another successful “dreadful hike,” a family saying coined by Laura when she was 3 1/2 years old.