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The Moon Cyclists

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photophoto Riding my road bike the other day, I was feeling pretty good for the unusually hot temperature. The hills coming up out of Sewickley didn’t feel so bad and it seemed like now at the end of the riding season, I was in fairly good shape for the shape I am in. Until…..a guy who could not have weighed more than 130# soaking wet came flying by me in a rather official looking pro team kit and shaved legs gleaming in the sun. I knew he was serious as he gave me the obligatory wave with the right finger and as I tried to hang on to his wheel, I said,” where did the 30 years go all of a sudden.” My “in-shapeness” was relative now to my age group and certainly not in the age group of the guy who just smoked me on the hill. As I drifted off the back, I kind of went into a daydream mode which you can do on a road bike and just pedaled and thought about the old days. Look above to see the leather hairnet head protection that we wore and the wool jersies. We were official looking as we tried to mimic the Euro Peleton. When I look at that picture today I say to myself,” how would that leather hairnet protect anything?” With age comes wisdom and the need to look cool and official wanes. However, the enthusiasm for the sport was genuine and no group of people embodied it more than a group from Moon Township, Pennsylvania aptly named “The Moon Cyclists”

Our group of North Parkers were quickly adopted into their group after we all met in the ACA Time Trials and Races. Jody and Gary Gillis, Mike and Judy Mihok, Gary Bywaters, all took George and Debbie, Art Bon, the Habays and me into their fold. The unifying thing among us was not just the love of the sport of road racing, but the social aspect of having a beverage or two after a group ride or race was over. In the winter, we used to use the Ambridge Bike Shop facility in Coraopolis,Pa as a roller riding venue a couple of days a week in the winter to keep our cycling spirits alive. Rollers are cylindrical indoor training devices that move under the front and back weel and tend to improve balance and riding in a straight line. Sometimes the staight line was compromised as one’s attention slipped and the hapless rider would crash inside or ride into the wall much to the amusement of the fellow riders. We followed this up with spaghetti and beer at Segneri’s Restaurant as we laughed about how we “schvettted up the floor of the shop and fogged all the windows”, all the time making fun of each other. It became a tight group and we all looked the part of the serious racers thanks to the talents of Kathy Schnaubelt who made high quality cycling clothing at the time and still does today. Gary Gillis used to call her shop the “schvette shop ” with all the old ladies sewing away on the Singer sewing machines in very hot and humid conditions. But they seemed happy and our cycling kits had a big crescent moon on them and we took pride in wearing all of our Moon Cyclists gear. I wish I had some of that stuff left but it was indeed a long time ago and the “schvette” definitely destroyed the fabric over time.

Many rides and post ride parties were enjoyed over the years and it is amazing how good friendships developed. Peer activites and sports can bond relationships that can last a lifetime. Mike Mihok is an ER doc and I credit him with actually saving my life when I ended up in his ER with stabbing pains in my back. Mike instantly knew my previous history of having a DVT in my leg and recognized the signs of a pulmanory embolysim. He immediately admitted me and had a series of tests done to confirm the malady and had it not been for the quick action of Mike and his team, I might not be writing this blog. He was a good friend.

Sad to say, sometimes you don’t keep up with some friendships and they drift away without you really knowing it until the years pass. You have great memories and even though we have the excuse of kids, the job and aging parents and in-laws, the fact remains that to have a friend is to be a friend. I had too many great times with the Moon Cyclists to let that drift away and now I am in the mindset of trying to rekindle the relationships by what else? Putting together a group ride. I am going to do it and we will again tell the stories that we all like to tell like how we took Greg LeMond’s picture at the World Cycling Championships as he exited the port a john. We all were there to ride in Colorado and take in the race at the Air Force Academy. We were such fans then that in true paparazzi fashion, we could not wait to take pictures of the Tour Champion wherever and whenever we could. The poor guy couldn’t even hit the can without the Moon Cyclists all stalking him. Hilarious then and hilarious today. We can talk about how Gary would crave chocolate after a ride, eat it feverishly and then sink into a chocolate coma and become almost incoherent. Gary Bywaters instituted team time trials at the time and we all rode with each other in different combinations a lot of the time and laughed about how we performed or didn’t perform. How Larry Lynch yelled at us after his pull because our miles per hour slowed down after he killed us with each pull. We had several recovery beers after those time trials. Lots of good times -leather hair nets and all!!

As I watched the young guy with the shiny shaved legs drift away from me, I savored those old days in my mind and as we all have entered or will soon be entering the “empty nesters” league, we need to rekindle the fire of those old days. Not as fast, not in races, but definitely in fun and laughter. Make sure you keep in touch with all of your friends if you can. It is so important and it is never, ever too late to rekindle the “schvette together.” Thanks for reading.

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The Wisdom of Mentors.

From the Best of Chronicles of McCloskey

photophotophoto I came in tonight from a very enjoyable mountain bike ride. The weather is changing and the leaves are falling. I bought my first gallon of cider and as I entered my house, the smell of sauerkraut was mesmerizing. My wife Janet is a phenomenal cook and she loves it as well. I told her the season and the smells of the house reminds me of when I grew up. My folks loved to entertain and usually on fall days, the mums started to show up on the porch, the smell of fall meals filled the house, my mom even put cinnamon, oranges, and spice in a pot to simmer on the stove to add to the atmosphere. She always said that entertaining is like a stage. The lighting must be right, the music soft and relaxing, and the candlelight’s warm glow adding additional class to a very inviting setting. My folks taught me the meaning of graciousness. I learned what a nice table setting was. I can remember going to the University Club and watching my dad engage the maitre’d and the waitstaff. They respected him and said, ” Your table is ready Mr. McCloskey.” My dad was kind and generous and I watched his every move as he listened to all of the folks who worked at the U Club. Nothing pretentious about my dad. He respected them and appreciated what they did in their jobs. I learned when it was appropriate to tip someone. How to eat using good manners at the dinner table. When to open a door for a woman, hold their chair for them when they sit at a table. Rise when someone comes to the table and greet them with a handshake and a smile. My dad was a fabulous mentor to me. I learned a lot from him.

The origin of mentoring is taken from Greek Mythology where an elderly gentleman named Mentor was chosen by Odysseus to look after his son Telemachus during the Trojan War. The definition that evoloved in the English language says that a mentor is someone who imparts wisdom, shares knowledge with a less experienced colleague. We can have many mentors in our lives or perhaps just a few who really imparted wisdom and left us with something that we find useful to this day. Larry Cohen was another mentor who you see in the above picture in the middle of the group. Larry was a true Renaissance man. He was an excellent tennis player when I first met him years ago. He showed me how to play doubles and enjoy the “apre- tennis” out of the back of Charlie Black’s trunk. Larry was one of two individuals who really helped me on my way to cycling and ski instruction. The first time I ever rode a road bike was after Larry took me to Ambridge Bike Shop years ago and helped me select my first Trek. He then accompanied me on a ride to Brush Creek Park with Charlie Martin and I was hooked. My love of cycling has been strong ever since. If it were not for the mentoring by Larry, I would not be riding today. Larry also got me involved in ski instruction when I joined his “Ski Academy” as an apprentice instructor. Larry taught me how to teach. Being an ex- Vail instructor, Larry knew the ropes and was not shy about sharing all he knew to all of us fledgling instructors. He told me about the organization called the Professional Ski Instructors of America and their certification program. I became involved, taught in New England, and eventually gained my certification after a grueling week of testing on a bullet proof Killington, Vermont venue. I would not have been there if it had not been for the mentoring and wisdom of Larry Cohen. Mentoring involves little things. What to wear, what kind of tubular tires work well on the road, what gearing to use in a road race, what was the advantage of a straight block in criteriums and how to have two sets of wheels for road races and criteriums. Why ski wax is important. Why sharp skis are important. Knowing whether a person is visual learner or somone who has to have the technical terms explained to them on a ski trail during a lesson. People learn differently and Larry taught me how to tell the difference.

I lost a mentor when my friend Chip Kamin died unexpectedly of a heart attack while mountain biking. Chip was a few years older than me and took me under his wing a long time ago. Chip was another Renaissance guy who was an examminer for PSIA and I remember going with Chip and Larry to many clinics and exam preparations in New England and Michigan. I listened to them as they talked ski instruction and I drank in every word. When I passed my full certification, Chip and Larry sent me a letter of congratulations welcoming me to the fraternity. Not a phone call, not a message on my answering maching, a typed and signed letter. First class all the way. Chip is seen in the foreground of the picture above with all of us in the shelter up at Tuckerman Ravine in New Hampshire. Chip climbed in the Himalaya and when we went to Tuckerman, we relied on his experience. He was fun to watch as he ice climbed over on the adjacent Huntington Ravine. He moved with grace and style and although his personality was quiet and assured, he imparted some real knowledge to all of us just by watching him ski and climb. Chip used to give us these little gems along the way. I wrote an earlier tribute post to him and listed some of his good advice. Lots of technical cycling and skiing knowledge came our way and it vanished all too soon this year in his unfortunate passing. Chip’s mentoring will always be with me. There are things that he said that stick with me as I ride and ski. I will never forget him and will always appreciate his friendship and his ability to impart wisdom and share knowledge.

My dad, Larry and Chip. Two guys with similar passions and one guy totally focused in the opposite direction. But even though my dad and these two guys had totally different passions and lives, their ability to take me and mentor me has always been appreciated. I hope that I have done this for my son. I also hope as I grow older, that I have at least imparted some life experience on some young guys and gals in my travels on the slopes and the roads and trails. We need to do this. We need to pass on this acquired wisdom to others. One of the great feelings that I experienced as a ski instructor was to see somone “get it” and see the smile on their face as they see the fruits of their instruction take hold. All of you reading have experience and “expertise” in many different areas. Take the time to share it and even though it may be uncomfortable at times, if someone asks you for help, lay it out for them in a kind, “mentoring” manner. Thanks again for reading.

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The Power of the Magic Mirror

Black and White mirror pictureGrannyCatmollymccloskey ” Magic Mirror tell me today, did all my friends have fun at play?” This was the ending sentence of the daily query from Miss Molly to her children all over the country through her Magic Mirror on the TV program- “Romper Room and Friends.” My sister Molly was in fact, Miss Molly on the show back in the 80s when it was first syndicated nationally out of WOR- TV in New York. My sister was a Carnegie Mellon grad who majored in Music Theatre and following graduation was hired by the Claster family to be the new teacher on the show. The interesting thing is that I took her to New York for auditions and the last thing she auditioned for was the musical” The Best Little Whore House in Texas.” The following last minute audition was for the Romper Room role and she was hired. What a contrast in auditions.

The nice thing about having a sister with some notoriety, especially in the New York City area, is that we usually got a lot of nice perks with restaurant seating, tickets to Broadway shows, and the general satisfaction for me to see my little sister being asked for autographs and posing for pictures with kids of all ages. The neat thing is that Molly was always Molly and never let it go to her head. She was as gracious with strangers as she would be to any of her friends and relatives. I made it a habit to visit her and we would have a great time hitting all the great shows and restaurants and attractions that New York City has to offer. She and her husband Ray lived in Brooklyn at the time and it was always a fun experience for me to come in from the provinces and see the big city. Molly knew how to get around and always told me,” Quit looking up and around Pat, you look like a tourist.” She knew how to give a great hip check to someone trying to squeeze into a cab before us. After the guy would be off balance, she would say,” Get in Pat and don’t look back.” She was sweet and a nice girl but got worldly in a hurry living in the Gotham. Her driving was more aggressive than I remember and still is to this day. I guess you have to survive over there.

So one time, I came in to visit Molly and Ray and had my road bike with me to compete in an event that I saw advertised in Velo News, a magazine for cycling races and events. The event was called “The Bronx Biathlon” which entailed a road bike race followed by a running race- no swimming. The venue was a series of closed off parkways in the Bronx which were well marked and attracted a large participation from a variety of New Yorkers. I saw serious tri-athletes, road racers, and runners whose game faces were on and were competitive as one could imagine a New Yorker could be. The bikes were first rate with tri- bars, some disc wheels which were new at the time, and of course the obligatory Campy or Shimano Dura-Ace for components. My bike was no slouch at the time with my 3 Rensho frame and Shimano Dura Ace componentry. But being New York, there were also the competitors who were there just for fun with their beach cruisers or banana seat bikes. The outfits were a hoot with cutoff black Megadeath T-Shirts, black jeans, black tennis shoes, and the random long stainless steel chain connecting their wallets to their black belt loops. In their best Tony Montana impersonations, they tried to fit in but even the guy from the province of Pittsburgh knew they were out of their league.

The gun went off and my sister and Ray were my support squad giving me splits and postion reports along the way. It was interesting to be riding on an empty expressway in the middle of the most famous city in the world. I eventually made my way up to the competitive group and the run transition was where I became focused on an age group award. As the runnning portion of the race was winding down, I saw Ray who told me that based on the color of the race numbers which indicated age groups, he thought I was in second or third place and I stepped up my pace to try to win one of the Tag Heuer watches that were the prize. Imagine my disappointment when I found out I was fourth and they gave the overall winner two watches because he won overall and won my age group. To this day, I was amazed that they didn’t go one more deep because of his overall win. But I comfort myself with the fact that they were probably Tag Heuer watches that were most likely purchased at some corner stand on Madison Avenue. The knock off capital of the world.

As I got cleaned up and we watched the final awards, we went back to my sister’s car only to find that she had locked the keys in the car. So now, the crowds are thinning and the Megadeath guys are eyeing up my bike and giving us the evil eye. I approached a police officer, one of New York’s finest, an asked for some assistance with a “slim jim.” He coldly told me “no” and to call the Triple A. I looked at him with disdain and asked,” So you are going to let Miss Molly stand here an not be able to get home because you won’t make the effort to get into her car?” Yes- I pulled the card much to my sister’s disgust. But, the officer recognized Molly and said,” Holy s@#$, it is you!!!” He got on the radio and all of a sudden two squad cars, an emergency vehicle, a fire vehicle and another safety vehicle arrived within minutes and it was amazing to see how many officers and paramedics were working feverishly to open the door of the car. Afterwards there were the pictures and the promises by Molly to get all of their kids on the show and to Molly’s credit, she delivered. The children of New York’s finest were all on the show and what could have been an urban disaster turned into a nice affair with children from different parts of the city assembling with their dads on the set of Romper Room.

As I flew back that night on People’s Express( remember that dump of an airline?), I thought about the day, the life in New York, and the happiness that Molly spread to many children every day on a national basis. She saw a lot of kids in that mirror back then and the Bronx Biathlon was a great memory not because of the race, but because of the kindness and generosity shown all around us that day. New Yorkers are a special breed and my sister is a special lady. Thanks for reading.

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How to torture your relatives.

Saltlick-20130109-00082IMG00242-20100809-1556IMG00243-20100809-1600photo My father had a great saying whenever I returned from one of my adventures. I told him about the event, the adverse weather, the rain, the snow, the cold winds, whatever. My dad said, ” Kind of sounds to me like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer. It feels so good when you stop.” He was right in a way. For some strange reason, I like foul weather. I have all the Gore Tex gear. I was always fascinated with weather and for reasons that I can’t really put a finger on, I always did better in events when the weather and the conditions went to hell. Snowstorms in the Month of Mud Mountain Bike Races, torrential rains in NORBA events, wicked cold weather and snowstorms on ski trips. I liked it when the weather was a factor. Even today, I try not to let weather ruin my fun. I put on the foul weather gear and go for it. Around here, if you don’t ski or run or ride in the rain, you don’t get much activity. Even when you go away, you run the risk of bad weather in any season and I always try to prepare for it and enjoy it in a quirky way.
Now that attitude does not necessarily apply to my family. Take my sister for instance. She is game, but I have tortured her in many ways on many different trips. We stood at the top of the Cirque at Snowbird in a raging snowstorm and our friend Mike Smith took a header down the slope and didn’t stop till he hit the bottom of the run. I looked at Molly and said,” You’re next.” She also gave me the deer in the headlights look when she started to see the snow slide on High Rustler at Alta after a harrowing trip accross the High Traverse. I made her ski on bullet proof ice at Killington,VT, then drive 5 hours to Sugarloaf, Maine to ski on ice balls the size of baby heads. It’s not that I am a tough guy or anything like that. It is just that I like to ski and will do whatever it takes to slide on snow. My sister likes it too but not to that degree. But she was a trooper in all that adversity. One year I took Molly and her husband Ray on a charity bicycle event which seemed tame enough except when we were about 5 miles into the event, the heavens opened up. They were soaked and hadn’t ridden a bicycle very much. As they were sopping wet, they faced a daunting hill and Ray quipped,” Looks like a walker to me, Molly.” I felt badly as they pushed their bikes up the hill while I tried to lift their spirits telling them that the rest stop was not far away. Yes- I tortured Molly and then her husband had the good fortune of being tortured by the jagoff brother in law. Again, not that I am vindictive or tough, or anything like that. I just try to make the best of adverse situations. Sometimes my positive attitude gets me a “Go suck an egg, Pat.” But eventually after the day is over, the furor dies down to a few laughs and good memories of athletic and meteorological torture.

You have seen the picture before of my wife skiing in the freezing rain. I have also had her and my son out in raging snowstorms in places like Eldora, Colorado. They try to smile and embrace my zeal. But oftentimes it generally breaks down eventually and a trip to a fire and a hot drink is in order. I have taken my wife on 4 hour hikes here in the Laurel Highlands to see a scenic overlook between Rt. 653 and Seven Springs Resort. She also was subject to a 6 hour hike in Nevada with the master of athletic torture, Eric Durfee, only to be comforted by Eric’s wife Helen and the teenage comments of my son Jack who endured the hike as well. But the views of Lake Tahoe and Reno were spectacular. Those views were a little lost on them at the time, but the pictures that are on our coffee table remind them that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you strong. They laugh but they think, ” What a putz.” Unfortunately I put the icing on the cake two weeks ago when Janet and I went hiking on our local trails and she fell on a rock and broke her elbow. I am not mentioning that the leaves will be changing soon and the hiking will be spectacular when she heals. I also am not mentioning that it is not far from ski season around here. I might leave that one alone while the poor soul is still in a sling. You see with not much effort and a lot of positive energy, you can torture your family on outings to the point where they question whether they will ever go anywhere with you again.

Maybe I do hit myself in the head with a hammer? Maybe I torture my family. But even my cynical teenager says, ” Dad- I know your heart is in the right place.” He will be off to college next year and I will be limited with potential torturous outings with him. However, my lovely wife will always have the opportunity to participate in “fun outings” only if she wants to do it. Sometimes I have pushed her and she responds in a positive way and has a good time in the great outdoors. But I will be discerning in the future. But, then again, our good friend Debbie Sagan says,” Hey Pat, we are active people. Things happen.” She just got over some broken elbow issues herself and is back on the trails running with her pal Mary Jo Neff. Deb fell and got hurt on her bike a few years ago and now competes in and wins triathlons. Torture is a state of mind. You either embrace adversity and grab the experience for all it is worth or you punt. Nothing wrong with punting, but you might just miss a good time in the rain, snow, or heat. One thing I know, my sister, my son, and my wife will always have memories of the crazy outings that they have participated in with the 58 year old kid. They did real well. They just don’t want to know details of the amazing adventures I have had in really crummy weather. “Hey- my head feels good now?” Thanks for reading.

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Dogs Like Me- I taste like chicken!!!

220px-Rj_boxer220px-European_Dobermann Now before I begin this rant,I will make all of my disclaimers on man’s best friend. People love their dogs, there are a lot of loving dogs, there certainly are loyal dogs especially when you look at law enforcement and see the love between master and best friend. My experience with the visually impaired has taught me the value of guide dogs. Dogs are great…………for most people…….except people like me. Don’t get mad at me. Don’t berate me. It is just that dogs in general do not like me. I thought they did until I began to realize that they really didn’t and could sense my fear and trepidation. Now you ask,” Pat- you are the outdoors guy?” “How can you not have a dog out in the woods with you while you ride, hike or snowshoe?” Seems likely that I would have a dog -right? Well let me tell you why I do not have one and it is not anything against dogs or dog owners. Ok Dave?
Years ago, I used to sneak through my neighbor’s back yard waiting to hear the panting, hot breath of Buster the boxer as I came in from the old neighborhood. If I could get the jump on him, I could stay ahead of him until I yelled for my mom at the top of my lungs,” Mom!!!!!- Open the door!!!!” My mom would open the screen door and I would dive into the kitchen and Buster would bang his head on the screen and bark until my mom told him to get lost. This was a ritual every day and the neighbors would understand but didn’t pay too much mind to control Buster until the day that a car controlled him out in front of our house on Siebert Road. Too bad for Buster but a sense of relief for the rattled kid.

Fast forward to my road riding days. I had two routes that had canine adversaries on the way. One was a rather large St. Bernard on the road to Brush Creek Park. It was a farm dog and for some strange reason, it liked to rush into the street and chase bicycle riders. It would not bite but delighted in trying to bump you off of your bike with it’s bulbous, monstrous head. This was un-nerving because a crash on a road bike is not fun especially when you are knocked sideways by a beast of a dog who was bred to rescue people? On another route, the Freedom Road route there was a very savage Doberman Pinscher. This canine predator was also a farm dog and was pretty intelligent as well as vicious. This is where I thought I tasted like chicken because he always went for my legs. The tactic for me and also told to my friends, was to charge the downhill before the farm and get a good start up the hill because the Doberman would try to head you off at the pass. I can remember time after time racing down the hill, looking for him to my left, seeing him, sprinting up a rather steep hill to try to outrun the animal. Every time it seemed he tried to cut us off higher and higher as he was getting the idea that we slowed down at the top of the hill. I had a few close encounters with him as I barely escaped his open jaws and menacing teeth. Another menacing Rottweiler always came charging at us out of a graveyard up near Mars,Pa. I often thought it was Satan coming to get us as I checked my head for the number “666.” Always got the jump on us out of the tombstones. Very eerie.

A few years ago, I was running on the local golf course when a Rottweiler came charging after me as I saw his owner in the distance. They had been walking on the course and when the dog saw me he bolted in a dead run towards the 58 year old kid. He jumped up on me as his owner was yelling. I was startled and kept saying,” Now nice dog. Lets go to your dimwitted owner and see if he can get you off of me?” He kept jumping up and barking until I got within 5 feet of his owner and then he turned and bit me on the arm. Fortunately it was winter and even though he broke skin on my arm, he had to bite through some clothing. The owner wrestled him down and when I asked about his tags, he said they are all up to date. He gave me a very muffled “Sorry man” and then took off with his beast into the distance. My wife was appalled that I didn’t get his name but I figured I was ok and proceeded to treat my wounds with peroxide and hit the shower.

When I go to a party, it is amazing how the dogs of the house sniff my crotch. WTH? Why is it always me when there are perhaps 20-50 people at a party? My wife says the dogs can sense fear and they sure can sense it in me. I go mountain biking with my friends and when we come up on some hikers walking their dogs, they always go after me. My friends all get a kick out of it and they feel safe because they know they can ride on because the dog will always go for Pat. See, I must taste like chicken. So when my wife says that we should have had a dog for my son Jack, I always state that it was a pre-nuptual agreement not to have a dog. I know that boys like dogs but I am sure that I would have been the one feeding the dog, walking the dog, and picking up the discarded cigars after the dog. Yes, my wife would have done it, my son would have done it for a while, but I would have had my fair share of droppings retrieval and walking a beast who probably would have growled at me daily in my own house.

So if you see me some time and I sheepishly reach out to pet your dog and say the obligatory,” Hi there- nice doggie, hahahahahahah.” You will know that I am nervous as hell and that maybe you should pity me and keep your dog in the garage or something. Sorry all you Facebook dog people. Nothing against dogs. They are great for most people. But when you taste good to them, you are living a life with one eye open all the time. Thanks for understanding and thanks for reading as always. “Hey mom-open the doooooooooooor” Boom!!!!!

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WE ARE!!!!!!!

photophotophotoPurple Lizard Mapsphotoband_TIPS Well maybe not me, but this is the cheer of my wife’s alma mater, Penn State University. If you look it up on You Tube under “Origins of We are Penn State Cheer”, you will see a heart warming story. On any home game, you will hear one side of the stadium cheer, “We Are” and the other side cheer ” Penn State.” Now for a guy who went to a small little school up in Northwest Pa, this brings chills to the spine. It is inspiring and is the mantra for all of those like my wife and her wonderful friends who all went to school together at a fabulous university in a fabulous little town -State College,Pa. Happy Valley.

I would like to speak in this post of the idea of friendship which is embodied in the relationship that has developed over 30 years with my wife Janet and her PSU friends. Let’s start with Mark and Kathy Ritchey who so generously open their home to all of us during the annual rite of the fall-Homecoming weekend. We kill their house but the smiles and the hospitality of the Ritcheys is unmatched. They are generous to a fault and their home is our home. Their daughter Megan plays for the Women’s Soccer Team and Kathy and Mark are like second parents to all of those girls and coaches.

A big motor home rolls in for every home game and especially on Homecoming weekend. It is driven by a little spitfire of a gal named Judy Smith who was a cheerleader for the Lions back in the day. She and her husband Mike drive into the Valley and bring the most amazing food for the tailgates. Nothing beats Judy’s Yum Yum bars and her exquisite turkey served with home made cole slaw on fresh challah rolls. Mike Smith is one of three non-PSU persons like myself and fortunatly for me,he is a mountain biker. For the last 25 years, we have ridden together before the game up on the great trails of the Rothrock State Forest. Our route can be found on the Purple Lizard Maps available at all the bike shops in town. We hit the Longberger Path to the John Wert Path( a rocky hell of a trail), up Heckendorn Gap via Treaster Kettle Road, and then rocketing back down the Longberger to the finish. We have ridden a lot of the trails over the last number of years in all kinds of weather. I will never forget Doc Smith sliding on the ice over this wooden bridge right near the start of the ride. A tough start for Michael but he is a tough guy and the rest of the ride was uneventful and enjoyable. Mike is our medical guy. With all the pub crawling and the scavenger hunts designed by the diabolical Kathy Ritchey, we need a medical man on staff.

Valerie and Bob Reading are another wonderful couple and Val was one of the original(roomies). Bob is an amazing athlete. Mike and I took him for one of his first mountain bike rides and his road riding prowess showed up hard in the climb up the Gap on Treaster Kettle. He left the mountain bike guys in the dust on the climb and Mike and I looked at each other in wonder. Bob still looks like he could play college football. Valerie is one of the friendliest persons I have ever met and her culinary skills along with her sister Diane and her husband Billy, make the tailgate the envy of the alumni crowd. These three can cook up a storm along with Judy’s grub and my wife Janet’s “to die for” chile. Beth O’Donnell another roomie from the day, also prepares a feast for the tailgate and her husband Mike, a former PSU player, enjoys the feast with all of us. Mike is a friendly, capable financial guy who is a dedicated volunteer and generous supporter of all that is Penn State.

Then there is the incomparable Mike Procopio. Copes is a labor attorney from the West Coast via Sharpsburg, Pa and PSU. When he applied to Law School, he looked up the next school in the “P” section of the college manual and found Pepperdine. He was accepted and the next thing you know, Mike is looking at the bikini clad co-eds on the beach from the library window. He is a capable guy and the group has no better friend than Copers. He would give you the shirt off his back and then some. Mike Dunlay(aka the Dunz) is the ringleader of this group. A successful restauranteur from Chicago, he is shown above holding Joe Paterno on his shoulders in the famous Sports Illustrtated cover commemorating the teams National Championship. Dunz is also the guy that I refer to in my earlier ski post on “Characters.” Dunz was the guy I took to Killington to ski with my friend Eric and his national class ski racing son, Travis. Dunz shows up in wrap around Clint Eastwood sunglasses and Cincinnati Bengals billowing cotton pants. We all skied fast that day as usual and the Dunz rocketed down the trails of Killington hollering and laughing all the way down much to the amusement of my friend and his son. People kept asking me if he was an NFL player and I said politely “No- that is ……..the Dunz” He is another guy who would take a bullet for the girls. Another generous guy to a fault who would do anything for his Penn State crowd.

Now you might ask yourself, why am I spending such detail on this group? I am trying to portray the archtypal description of friendship embodied here. As an outsider, I have had the opportunity to observe this crowd for a long time and they are truly a tight group. They have been friends for over 30 years and make the effort to see each other not only at Homecoming but at other times of the year, all over the country. They make the time for each other. They call each other. They value their friendships. I am pleased that they consider me a friend as well and they have always welcomed me into the their midst as an honorary Lion. Pretty nice for a guy who didn’t really make the most of his college experience. Janet is a good friend to all of them. My mother used to say that to have a friend is to be a friend. I see Jan calling her friends from PSU, getting together with them, laughing with them, crying with them, and it is really heartwarming to see how much she enjoys her friends for all these many years. So as inspiring as this is to me, it should be to you as well. Cherish your friends. Make plans and take the time to get together with them. We are getting older. Our kids are growing and will soon have their own path and friends in life. But I expect this group to be rock solid for many years to come. I want to tag along and when the crowd screams,” WE ARE” I will shout back ……”Penn State.” Thanks for reading.

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Take back the night!!

photoNiteRider2McCandless-20130303-00102 “Oh its a long long way, from May to December. But the days grow short…..when you reach September.” ” When the autumn weather…..turns the leaves to flame. One hasn’t got time …..for the waiting game.” This Kurt Weil lyric rings in my head as this time of year rolls along. Tonight I brought out the lights for my mountain bike and used them to finish the ride. In not too long a time, we will need the lights for the entire ride but for now, it is rather enjoyable to ride in the evening with just a jersey and shorts.

A few posts ago, I spoke about riding at night in the 24 Hours of Canaan. This 24 hour team mountain bike relay has become an extremely popular competition since Laird Knight first started Granny Gear Productions in Davis, West Virginia over 20 years ago. For those of you who remember, the bowels of West Virginia can become pretty desolate at 4 o’clock in the morning. As the race progresses, the field spreads out and oftentimes you are riding by yourself and hearing and seeing things in the woods. I remember coming up on the section called the “Moon Rocks” and seeing a marshall who was decked out in a long poncho with a staff by his side. He looked just like the Grim Reaper as I rode by his campsite and fire. He didn’t say anything to me and it seemed a bit spooky as I rode up on to the rocks and continued a night lap in Wild, Wonderful, West Virginia. I had similar experiences in the 24 Hour races at Seven Springs Mountain Resort in the Champion Challenge. Backwoods Westmoreland County can be pretty remote as well as the race spreads out and those familiar trails can become challenging and unfamiliar with only the bright beam of the light to guide your way. You are pedaling along following your beam and all of a sudden someone comes up behind you and freaks you out. I suppose I did the same thing to others as I came up on them. But being the guilt ridden hell guy that I am, I always gave them polite notice and slipped by them in a most proper way. ” On your left, thank you, have a nice ride.”

Competition using your lights was a lot of fun and the adrenaline rush of a race together with dark woods and single beams of light became the hallmark of very enjoyable and challenging race experiences in the mountains of West Virginia and Western Pennsylvania. But the most fun riding with lights is just what I did tonight. Riding with friends on trails that look totally different at night illuminated by a single beam of light. I have always been a proponent of riding with a light mounted on my handlebars but a lot of guys use a helmet mounted light as well. Personal preference, I suppose, but the dual beams seem to be more efficient. I can remember first riding with lights in 1987 at our local park where I still ride today. If you refer to my post on North Park, you will be reminded that we have 42 miles of trails in a park that is 10 minutes from my house. But these trails at night look different and it is always a new challenge riding them with the lights. In 1987, we were persona non grata with the County Police and the horse riders. I can remember hiding with the lights turned off while we were chastised on the bull horns coming from the police cars and thinking to myself,” Hey- just go get a coffee and another jelly donut and leave us alone.” The horse people were polite for the most part but I did get into some conversations with some of them about how these were horse trails and not to be used by bikes. I politely responded that I pay my taxes too and the conversations went south after that. Today, it is a whole different story with lots of folks riding mountain bikes on the trails and in the fall and winter, you can see streams of riders with their lights illuminating the trails in a chain of lights that seem miles long.

In the picture above you can see two guys. John Staab is my friend who you might recognize from my post on snowshoeing. John is a fun guy who loves to be outdoors and on his mountain bike. Last year was the first year that he rode at night and he became an instant expert on Chinese lights that you can order from Amazon. He is a real fan of night riding and has marveled at how it has extended his riding season. He even said to me tonight that he likes riding at night even more than he likes riding in the day. Amazing!! The other guy is none other than the Lord of Lumens himself…Bob Bannon. Robanco@verizon.net. If you ever want expert advice on riding in the winter with lights, Bob is your man. He knows all about lights, lumens, batteries, and can fix almost any lighting system. Besides that, he leads rides all over our region all year long. No matter what the weather is brewing. Bob is the smiling gent with the chin warmer.

The night is another world. You are riding behind a beam of light and you hear all kinds of wildlife that you can’t see. Sometimes you see eyes and you wonder what is looking at you. I have turned corners and looked straight into the face of a rather large buck. When it is real cold and you are by yourself on the trail at night, you start to hear and see things. It can be a little un-nerving but exciting at the same time. Remember, I was in two horror films- right? But other nights that are drenched in moonlight can be some of the most memorable riding nights that you can have. The night air smells different, the trails look different, and the comraderie of riding with a group or the peace of riding by yourself in the moonlight or the solitary beam of your own light is a great experience. Why let the summer fun end? Get some lights and take back the night!!! Thanks for reading.

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Summer Time in Ski Town

photophotophotoEllicottville-20130208-00088photo One of the more interesting things that happens to a ski town is the metamorphasis that occurs after mud season. Mud season is traditionally when spring rolls along and the snow melts and the locals in a ski town head for vacation before they begin the summer festivities that define the area in the “off season.” Large ski areas are great in this transition but there are also smaller towns like Ellicottvile, New York that have lots to offer in the non-ski times of the year. I like to ski at Holimont and Holiday Valley during the winter because they get that great Lake Erie Fluff. Nice snow and maybe not the vertical drop of the west but nonetheless enjoyable. But when the summer comes, the mountain bike trails come alive in the Allegheny National Forest and the endless singletrack under the eastern canopy of a national forest can compete with riding anywhere in the country.

If you go to “EVL” in the summer, you can set up your base of operations at the Inn at Holiday Valley. It is right on the ski slopes of Holiday Valley Resort and the room prices are very reasonable in the summer. If you are a mountain biker like me, you can ride right from the Inn and utilize a very well constructed map of the trails created by the Western New York Mountain Bike Association. http://www.wnymba.com This map is available at all the ski/bike shops in town as well as at the Inn. My favorite loop is to ride from the Inn to the Race Course loop, to the Big Merlin trail, to the Dead Dog Loop(a personal favorite for a number of reasons), to the Sidewinder trail back to the Big Merlin and returning to the Inn via the Race Course loop again. These trails are maintained by the ski area as well as the State of New York and are really well constructed. You can get a lot of riding in this area which encompasses the forest as well as Holiday Valley and Holimont Ski Area trails. It is fabulous eastern singletrack at it’s best and not to be missed by anyone who lives within easy driving distance from EVL.

For those of you who have a significant other who does not ski or ride, the town of Ellicottville offers great shopping at boutique shops and well appointed bike and ski shops. I always say that EVL is like someone dropped a little New England ski town right in the middle of Western New York State. If you refer to my earlier blog post about sibling skiing at Holimont, you can revisit the virtues of this private ski club in the winter. But the trails there are also spectacular in the summer and Holimont comes alive in this season as well. I would also recommend the Elicottville Brewing Company for a cold beer and a meal after a ride. http://www.ellicottvillebrewing.com and an alternate selection with many beers on tap is the John Harvard Brew Pub at the Tamarack Club at the Holiday Valley Ski area. Don’t miss the chicken pot pie. It is the bomb!!!

Most of the time I am visiting EVL on my way to or from Rochester,NY. I do some work up there and I always make it a point to stay in EVL instead of a hotel off the interstate near Rochester. Western New York has a lot to offer and is relatively close to Canada for some alternate visits to Niagra on the Lake. A personal favorite of my wife and me. Lake Chautauqua is close by as well as Lake Erie( the source of all that great snow in the winter.) So, in these times when it may be challenging for us easterners to go out west several times per year, the lively alternative is Ellicottville. The mountain bike riding and hiking is spectacular not only in the summer but in the fall. Those fall colors rival New England and the shopping and dining are worth the trip alone. Hey, hit it now with the upcoming fall upon us, before it is too late to enjoy the “off-season.” Thanks for reading

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The Gentile Moab, Utah

Slideshow_img08slickrock_e-700x466 Moab,Utah has traditionally been the Mecca of mountain biking over the last 20 years. From it’s resurgence as a uranium boom town that went bust, the outdoor sports world has embraced the region and contributed greatly to its current economical success as a tourist destination town. Now some pundits would say that Moab is now cliche’ and that the hard core mountain bike community has moved on to the North Shore of British Columbia, Fruita, Colorado, Sedona, Arizona and other “rad” places. But Moab remains constant in that it continually services the mountain bike community year after year with reliable weather, great trails, and excellent lodging, eating and drinking establishments. So, at the risk of being “cliche'”, I will tell you about my experience in the town of Moab and its surrounding desert trails.

Several years ago, I was in Salt Lake for a week and I got a hall pass from the bride to go to Moab for the weekend before my week in SLC. I get the rental car and pack my bike and my duds, and head out of Salt Lake for the 3+1/2 hour drive. When you go west, as many of you know, it is BIG COUNTRY! I respect the mountains out there because I have skied them many times. But this was the first time I had ventured into the desert and I was amazed that I was looking at the same mesa to my left for what seemed like 3 hours. My first stop was to check out Arches National Monument and National Park. I put on the hiking boots and headed to Delicate Arch which is seen on the Utah license plates. It was pretty cool to see these arch formations and I would say that anyone venturing into this part of Utah should definitely check out Arches and Canyonlands. It is special to Easterners because of the expanse and the beauty of the desert.

After this wondrous experience of a hike, I made my way into the town of Moab. My destination was the Sunflower Hill Inn. http://www.sunflowerhill.com. Now most people who have had the Moab experience have camped, slept in pickup trucks or have taken advantage of a Rim Tours( http://www.rimtours.com) or a Western Spirit( http://www.westernspirit.com) week long excursion with camping and great food. These tours are guided and are an excellent way to experience Moab. But yours truly had only the weekend and I found the Sunflower Hill Inn on line. What a find!!! This place is a wonderful bed and breakfast with nicely appointed rooms and a fabulous breakfast. It has a great garden terrace and is right at the trailhead to the famous Slickrock Trail. The proprietors are friendly and are more than willing to accomodate your schedule and give you suggestions on rides and places to eat dinner in town. If you want to experience Moab and have a great breakfast, sleep like a baby and take a nice hot shower after your ride and relax in the garden patio area, this is the place for you. It is truly the gentile way to experience Moab. These accomdations have nothing to do with the challenge that lays ahead on the trails, but at least it is a nice oasis after you beat youself up on the slickrock of the Moab trails.

The riding here is challenging. I started out early in the morning around 5:45 at first light because when I was there in June it gets HOT fast!!! Did I say it was hot? Wow!! You can begin on the warm up trail of the Slickrock Trail to get used to riding on this most unusual surface. Slickrock is a misnomer. It should be called sticky rock or grabby rock because you can’t believe the traction you can get riding this stuff. The actual Slickrock Trail is a marked trail on this massive rock formation. Steep ups and downs highlight the riding and you can get all you can handle riding this stuff in the exposed outdoor sunny and extremely hot conditions. Holy hell was it hot!! I thought to myself that if I had not loaded up on water and brought some extra bottles besides what was in my pack bladder, I would be in trouble. I thought,” no wonder people have died out here!” No trees, no cover, 100 degrees plus. You could fry an egg on this rock. I thought of Walter Brennan(young people- ignore this, you don’t know Walter Brennan). But for those of you who do,” 30 days on the prarie, no water, indians all around!!!) I thought about all of those old prospectors and pioneers. How did they deal with this? But the surrounding rock formations are gorgeous and the Green River below is impressive.

During my stay I also made use of the other iconic trails in the region which were the Poison Spider and Porcupine Rim trails. There are many, many trails in the region, but these two along with the Slickrock Trail are the most famous. When you see a sign to dismount and walk your bike, they are not kidding. The trails can be tight and the penalty for being careless can be a 1000 foot fall into the canyon with the Green River staring at you. Trust me- I read and obeyed the signs. Being the acrophobic that I am, I was glad to dismount. After killing myself in the heat and draining all of my water each ride, I was happy to make my way back to the air conditioning of the rental vehicle. I was red as a beet and the beer at the Slickrock Cafe http://www.slickrockcafe.com was a welcome relief. It is a nice lunch and dinner spot and the T-shirts are cool as well. Live music too.

One of the must do stops is the Poison Spider Bicycle Shop http://www.poisonspiderbicycles.com . This shop is complete with all the eye candy bicycles that you could ever want. They rent high performance bikes, sell lots of technical clothing and accessories, give great advice, have really good mechanics and even have a shower area for those who want to ride to and from the shop. Don’t miss it.

As I made my way back to Salt Lake, I rode the rest of the week in the mountains around Park City after my work day. A different mountain trails experience but pretty nice all the same. But the desert in the “cliche'” Moab is pretty special and it is still pretty unique today. If you have gone, you know what I am talking about and there is not much more than I can add than all the magazines have printed in the last mumber of years. But for those of you thinking about a western adventure, put the Utah desert on your bucket list. You will be glad you made the trip. Cliche’-I don’t think so. Lots to do for non-riders too!!! Thanks for reading.

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“When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.”

dotd+elevator215px-Dawn_of_the_deadromero-3 How about this for a title for a blog post? This should get a few clicks tonight. This is actually the trailer from George Romero’s classic horror film “The Dawn of the Dead” which was produced in 1978. I am straying from my usual topics for my blog posts and telling you a little story about my experiences as an actor in two of George’s films. Yes, I did have a speaking part in two films but before I get to the gory details of that, I need to tell you of my original association with George Romero. George dated and subsequently married my backyard neighbor Christine Forrest. Early in his film career, he used our neighborhood and lots of the folks who were neighbors and friends as extras in his early movies. I was a young teenager and the kids in the neighborhood all thought that Hollywood had come to the North Hills. It did!!! Every night we watched as the cameras were positioned, lights were set up and we all were told to be very quiet as the action began. George was great with all the neighborhood kids and he introduced me to Stephen King whose movies George directed and produced for many years subesquent to his stint in the old neighborhood. Stephen was a friend of George’s and when he introduced him to me, I was really unaware of his notoriety and I said, ” Hey Steve, nice to meet you.” I then bolted to the food table and scooped some of the cast’s free dinner. Typical teenage rube, but we all were the same, soaking up Hollywood and scamming what we could.

Several years later, George asked me to be in his film “Dawn of the Dead” and he said that I would have a speaking part as a police officer escaping from the zombies. Yee haa! I was very psyched as I was two years out of college and this was a pretty cool gig for a young guy. I had to appear for makeup at the Southside Police docks on the river in Pittsburgh and I was addressed as the “talent” by the production assistants as they asked me if I wanted anything to eat or drink. Me? The schlub from the North Hills addressed as the “talent.” Now that was comical, but I tried to be professional and the assistant director gave me my script and showed me my famous lines. It read,” Hey man, I ain’t going nowhere in nothing I can’t drive myself.” I was to pilot a helicopter as a police officer to escape the impending onslaught of the walking dead. My other line was identifying a police cruiser and I said,”Hey- there’s a black and white!!!” My partner, who was a professional actor, kept blowing his lines but I was proud to say that I remembered my cue and my two lines and was a fairly believble cop. I was amazed at the time it takes to film one scene in a movie and I can respect the costs associated with movie production. The makeup for the zombies was amazing and all of it was choreographed by the highly acclaimed makeup artist, Tom Savini. Tom is a regular guy from Braddock,Pa who has done all the award winning makeup for films like “Halloween” “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and many others. Tom likes the ‘burg, and even though he has spent a lot of time in L.A, he still calls Pittsburgh home. We wrapped up my scene and years later I saw my police partner on an airplane to New York with his Burbury trenchcoat and matching scarf draped nattily over his shoulders looking quite the actor part. I introduced myself and he gave me a rather disgruntled look as to why I was bothering him. I wanted to remind him that I always remembered my cue and lines and he blew his lines ten times much to the chagrin of the crew on the police set. But I didn’t go there and wished him luck. Actors!!!

My second movie was “Monkeyshines”. Now by this time, George had many actors of notoriety on his sets. Ed Harris, Adrienne Barbeau, Hal Holbrook, to name a few. George always was gracious and introduced us to the stars and we appreciated his kindness and his ability to remain humble despite raging success in Hollywood. Now “Monkeyshines” needed some runners and cyclists in a scene filmed in Schenley Park and George once again called on me because he knew I was an avid cyclist and road racer at the time. I was once again to be at makeup and the scene filming and I rode from my townhouse down to the park adorned in my best racing duds. My line was,” Hi- How are ya doing?” Simple. Ride by the lead actor, say hello right before he gets hit by a truck and becomes a paraplegic. If you ever rent the movie, don’t go get a beer, go to the bathroom or blink in the beginning because you will miss me. I asked George how my inflection should be on my line and he laughed and said,” Pat- just say the line.” I was thinking,” HIIIIIIIIi………..how ya doing?” Or ” Hi, how are youuuuuuuuuuuudoing?” Or perhaps something else but the one production assistant reminded me to just say the damn line and move on. Turns out he hated cyclists and did not know I was a FOG(friend of George). When he finally did find out, he fell over himself trying to be nice, but I was thinking about my former horror film experience and wanted to take a chunk out of his neck like the old zombies that I met and loved. But I kept my angry carniverous tendency in check and remained a person of the living and not the “un-dead.” George thanked me and gave me a check as a speaking actor and I rode off into the sunset on my 3 Rensho bicycle never to act again.

George went on to great success but I am sure he looks back with fondness at his early days in the neighborhood with my parents as extras, my sister as an actress in several of those movies( she is a Carnegie Mellon Music Theatre Grad), and many neighbors as goulish zombies wandering the malls and neighborhoods seen in the early movies. Yes, the 58 year old kid has had many funny and memorable experiences but to be in horror films was a special treat and to see a glimpse of Hollywood was indeed a revealing and “ghoulish” experience. I still don’t go in anything I can’t drive myself- except for airplanes I suppose? Thanks for reading and remember to sleep with one eye open.