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The Great Adventure

photophoto My friend called me the other day and remarked how my life was boring. Always blogging about things in the past, riding the same trails, skiing the same areas, and working. He was trying to get me to come out to the west and do an epic mountain bike trip with him. He has the good fortune of being retired, kids raised and doing well, and has time to be adventurous in a most excellent environment. He means well and we like to get together but at the moment, my structured life is ok until further notice. I will still get together with him and my other friends but there are pressing things now that preclude spur of the moment adventure trips.

But what is adventure anyhow? Like beauty, it is in the eye of the beholder. In many ways I was and still am adventurous compared to most people but then again, I do not take motorcycle trips to the Arctic Circle or climb Mt. Everest. The real purpose of my blog is to tell people the funny stories about my past adventures and share some thoughts of encouragement to those who might want to give the outdoors a try. From the couch to a 5K? Maybe pitch a tent with their son or daughter in the back yard and look at the stars. Or perhaps, take up a winter sport and enjoy another season. Adventure and excitement is relative. Most people have to take advantage of their own local environment and if they plan, they can take that adventurous trip of a lifetime.

So in that spirit of perceived adventure, I will recount a tale with which many of you can surely relate, including my friend from out west. It is perhaps the most rewarding, perplexing, mystifying, aggravating, worrysome and loving adventure that I have ever experienced. I have had a lot of adventures but none as interesting as nurturing the most narcissistic of the homo sapien clan………….the teenager. It all begins with the driving lesson. The wide eyed nervous but thrilled demeanor is on stage with the first step on the gas pedal, the first hard braking, and oversteering. Through it all, dad is patiently in the passenger seat calmly giving directions in the pool parking lot. After a series of turns and three point turns, the route expands on the park roads until that unexpected remark,” Can I drive to see my friend Jackie?” Imagine the bravado on the first day? But, the 59 year old kid, seeing confidence and some ability allows the adventure to continue to see the girl so that the brand new driver can impress. The teenage fascination with the opposite sex is on display with the window down and the cool look to the girl with the big smile.

Fast forward to inner city, AAU basketball and the land of hip hop( see picture above). Dad and his Rolling Stones and Byrds can’t quite relate but neither did his parents at the sight of long hair and Elton John glasses back in the day. The 59 year old kid and his spirit of adventure is amazed at learning about Wiz Khalifa, Dr. Dre and the world of social media. Nobody talks- they text. Communication is reduced to the I-Phone and the infernal X Box live. Life expands for the teenager in the man cave of the house where video games reign supreme. Remember from past blogs that Janet and I taught the teenager how to ski, swim, hit a baseball, throw a football, shoot a basketball, and now it is all put aside for the fair sex and shooting aliens in the virtual world. When the teenager comes up out of his cave, he is hungry. He eats, doesn’t say much and back to the virtual world and texting his friends. Fortunately this creature has a job at the local beer distributor thanks to some dear friends and has learned the value of making a buck.

Moving on, the high school adventure is at an end and graduation, college orientation, and eventually the college experience awaits this being who mom and dad hope can make it on its own. Tonight, I stop to see the number one son and he tells me he is hungry. I say,” How about a pizza or a hoagie to hold you over until after work?” He says,” Great” in a very teen like vernacular which I will not expose. He says,” I only have a one hundred dollar bill so you will have to pay for it.” I pull out my last 20 and buy the food and am down to 10 bucks. What is wrong with this picture? I laugh and say to myself,” he has a 100 and I have 10 bucks and am out a pizza and a root beer.” That is life with the being we all know and love……….the teenager. Oh he is polite and shakes hands, and charms his teachers, and the ladies, and enjoys his life. But we see the beast waking up in the morning, grumpy, until he is fed and comes alive in the living room. We see the teenager at his best and at his worst, but the unconditional love of this being is always present even in the most heated battles of mom and dad versus sonny boy. A boring existence? I think not. It is always adventurous to stay one step ahead of the cunning beast until the day when we release him to mid America and the campus of Ohio U in Athens. We then will see the real growth, education, and maturity that awaits us when he returns and we say……” what happened to that young boy, who turned into the teenager, and is now…… a man?” Life moves on and the adventure continues. My friend from out west always told me,” Pat- it gets better and better every day.” His son is now married, with his own son and another child on the way. ” It only gets better.” The teen years were a challenge but again, adventure is in the eye of the beholder. Most of you had that adventure and those who have not, your time is coming with the texting, burping,flattulating, “I got this covered” species we know and love as…………the teenager. Hey Jack- clean up that room and put those clothes away will ya?” Thanks for reading.

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Dirt Rag Magazine- 25 years

photophotophotophoto Many people might not know it, but Pittsburgh, Pa. is a mecca for mountain biking. What? You ask. Yes. Pittsburgh is a mecca for mountain biking and there are several reasons why. First of all, our terrain is hilly and rolling and there are a lot of local and State parks in the region that have developed trail systems. The Laurel Highlands just east of the city are gently mountainous like most of the Appalachian chain and again, have a well developed trail network, aside from the Laurel Ridge Hiking Trail. The local club PTAG (Pittsburgh Trail Advocacy Group) has been very active in working with other trail users and developing systems in our local and State parks. But, in my humble opinion, the two individuals that promoted the sport to its current popularity and launched our reputation as a region for mountain biking were Maurice and Elaine Tierney.

For those of you who are in the know in the world of off-road cycling, Mo and Elaine are well known aside from their Mountain Bike Hall of Fame status. In 1989, they founded Dirt Rag Magazine. Maurice, a professional photographer and Elaine a talented journalist and general go getter, launched a small newsletter from the computer in Maurice’s office. The magazine was a local riders favorite and as Lee and Elizabeth Klevens and a host of other friends stapled and folded the early copies, the magazine grew in popularity with product reviews, local race results, and off beat stories that outline what is the soul of the sport of off road cycling. The early crew of Dirt Rag worked long hours together to secure advertising,garner race results, and come up with copy that was interesting to this relatively new genre of cycling. Dirt Rag’s long time Quality Manager, Karl Rosengarth, was quoted as saying that,” working at Dirt Rag feels more like playing in a punk rock band than toiling as an employee of a business.” High praise indeed for the atmosphere that has made the magazine successful for 25 years.

I started to read Dirt Rag in 1991 and as I was fairly new to the sport, I started to ride with the crew and their friends out on the trails near their office. I can remember Maurice showing me the ropes of riding and how welcoming all of the Raggers were when I would accompany them on their rides in Harmarville and Penn Hills park. I can remember many nights with the lights on my handlebars leading me on trails that I had never ridden watching the likes of Lee and Elizabeth keeping the pace high as we rode into the night. In those days, my wife was a flight attendant and when she was out of town, I found myself in the middle of nowhere, late at night, with a fun loving, well conditioned Dirt Rag crew. You really could not describe the fun to most people because they would ask,” You were riding a mountain bike with lights on at 11:00 last night?” But it was true and the tribe grew and grew over the years. I remember Maurice leading all of us at the original Wild 100 down in Slaty Fork,WVA. The Wild 100 was a 100K point to point race and Maurice had our strategy and our course mapped out well before Gil Willis gave us the race map at the starting line. Maurice was very familiar with the area and we felt confident that if we rode with Dirt Rag, we were not going to get lost, we would have a good time, and we had a very experienced ride leader at the very least. Maurice and Elaine, and the Dirt Rag crew created an aura around the sport that enhanced the experience of creating and publishing a magazine that eventually would be full color and sold in bike shops around the world. Subscriptions have been increasing every year and as Dirt Rag celebrates its 25th anniversary,the expertise and development of the magazine is quite impressive to the likes of me who remember the early days of their visionary idea. If you look at their 25th anniversary edition, you will see pictures that show the days of post ride beers in the garage of Dirt Rag World Headquarters in Saxonburg. You will see post ride pictures from their number one shop supporter Dirty Harry’s Bike Shop in Verona with Barry and Cyndie leading rides out of their shop. The history of Dirt Rag is not just related to the magazine but in the culture that was created by the publishers. The Punk Bike Enduro was an end of the year celebration of riding near the office and often well attended by luminaries of the cycling world as well as all the local dirt heads from Western Pa and West Virginia. The weather was often horrendous but that is what made the event fun. Enduro is big now in the sport but the Punk Bike Enduro with the few who actually contested it and the many who just rode it and drank beer along the way, helped to cement the reputation of Dirt Rag in cycling lore.

Today, the attention to detail is exemplary. I was riding with Emily Walley, the girlfriend of General Manager Justin Steiner, who meticulously stopped at different places on the ride to get good digital photos for the magazine of a new Marin bike that she was reviewing. Her attention to detail and lighting was impressive to me, a guy who takes I Phone pictures. I offered to do a product review for the stick that was used to hold the bike up, but it was all for not with the laughter of the riding group at that typical McCloskey remark. In any event, Dirt Rag today is a technological marvel and is produced with the professional attitude and expertise of those who really love the sport and have made a living out of their passion. Maurice is now living in the Bay Area which is close to the living quarters of the pioneers of the sport as well as headquarters for many of mountain biking manufacturers. Maurice loves the Bay Area but also wants to keep his finger on the pulse of all that makes Dirt Rag great. He was in town last week and as we had a beer at the OTB Cafe in North Park, he told the group how fortunate we all were to have access to great trails with no interference from competing groups. Trail use is a hot topic on the left coast and there is a lot of resistance from competing groups which concerns Maurice. But we ended the night with a big bear hug and I thanked him for welcoming me into the sport so many years ago and creating an atmosphere here in Pittsburgh that encourages riders of all abilities to enjoy our Western Pa. trails. The best part is that he made a living doing what he loved. He still does. Here’s to 25 more great years, Dirt Rag. Thanks for reading.

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The Allegheny Cycling Assn. Old School Road Racing

photo This beautiful Memorial Day Weekend took me back to the days of leather hairnets, wool jersies, leather cycling shoes with toe clips, and classic road bicycles at races on the Eastern Seaboard. Now you might not know it, but Pittsburgh has produced some very good competitive road cyclists. Guys like the Chew brothers, Dan and Tom, who along with Mac Martin, Matt Eaton, Bob Gottlieb and Jay Wolkoff blazed a trail for todays cycling stars in the burg. Back in the day, these guys used to compete at the Wednesday Night Races at the Highland Park Zoo parking lot. These highly competitive races were training criteriums for a lot of the local superstars as well as the ham and egger, weekend warriors like my friends George, Art, Frank and me. Many times the Sheriff( Gary Bywaters- USA Cycling Official extrordinaire) would line up the ” A” racers and the “B” racers together and off we would go contesting a tight criterium on one of the city’s classic racing venues. Even the Sheriff did ACA time trials back in those days.

Guys like my buddies from North Park were treated to seeing the “A” guys come blazing by us and give us tips along the way during the race. It was not uncommon to hear Matt Eaton, the National Road Champion at the time, come up beside me and tell me to move up or try to hang on his wheel to move up a few places so that I would be in a more competitive position to contest a sprint. He didn’t have to do that, but he believed in sharing his knowledge with us. Mac Martin, who was a US Team guy who did not get to go to the Moscow Olympics because of the Carter boycott, would go on road training rides with us and tell us tales of racing in the Tour de L’Avegnier in France or racing in Mexico with the Soviets. Mac used to tell us that the KGB could always be spotted in their black suits and wingtip shoes in the 100+ degree heat. He had great stories and made all of us feel like we were part of something special racing and riding with the ACA in Pittsburgh.

Every Memorial Day weekend for years, we would really be treated when we went east to contest road and criterium races in our 3-4 Division, and then get cleaned up to watch the 1-2 races with our guys contesting. We really got to see how good Mac, Matt, and the boys really were lining up against national competition of which they were stars in their own right. Matt raced for the prestigious G.S.Mengoni team from NYC, and Mac was a long time member of the New Jersey Bicycle Club of national fame. Many of our guys landed spots on big national teams and it was really something to see them race at the Tour of Somerville and win. Our guys from Pittsburgh! But we really got to see how good they were when they raced out of town and were part of the big national road racing picture. Art, Frank, George and I would eat it up when we would see these guys at the end of the race with the media all around them and congratulate them because we were on their inner circle of friends from home. But these guys were stars in their own right and when we returned from a weekend of racing and watching we had a newfound respect for how good our guys and gals really were. Sophie Eaton, Matt’s sister, won Somerville several times and that race, held on Memorial Day still to this day, was the biggest and most prestigious criterium race in the country.

Our little band of weekend racers got really juiced when we went to the east coast as we were fueled by the performance of our Pittsburgh Superstars. We would get into our 3-4 races with our game faces on just like the good guys and in our Walter Mitty way, imagined ourselves contesting the Tour of Somerville when really we were contesting the local 3-4 race of the Tour of Montclair. The east coast 3-4 racers were very competitive and with all of the races and events of the Memorial Day weekend around us, we all raced with a little more pizazz because of the atmosphere during those weekends. There was nothing like the road trip starting with watching the Friday night track races at Trexlertown, racing in our own category races and then witnessing classic road races like the Tour of Nutley,Allentown, and Somerville. On many occasions, my friend Eric from Vermont came down to race for the Stowe Shimano Cycling Club. Eric was a Cat 2 and lined up against Mengoni and 7-11, the two most noted teams of the time. Pretty good for a hard working Vermonter who raced on weekends and was not a professonal. One year he lined up with Eric Heiden who raced for 7-11 at the time and when the race was over, we discovered that we were staying right next to them in our hotel. The nice thing about road racers is that they like to share their passion with the weekend warriors who are their fans. Heiden invited us over to their room to watch some TV show and share some pizza with us. The multiple gold medalist speed skater from the Lake Placid Olympics was sharing some post race comraderie with the ham and eggers from Pittsburgh. We were amazed. What a weekend to spend with world class athletes in a most unusual venue of cycling history- Somerville, New Jersey.

Those rides home in our caravan of vagabonds seemed to go so quickly because of all of the stories that were retold over and over on the way home. ” Hey- how about Heiden’s thighs? Yikes.” Hey Art and Frank, how did you guys move up like that with all of that traffic?” ” Hey George- what did you think about those guys from New Jersey?” ” How about Rebecca Twigg at the track races? What a hottie and wow can she ride fast!” The rest of the summer at the Wednesday night races were always filled with conversations of the Memorial Day weekend and when we ventured out to some other 3-4 out of town races, we felt that we somehow had some sort of an advantage because of our club and the national class racers who took the time to work with us and enjoy our company.

Those days are long gone now and on those quiet road rides that I do on my way from my house to Sewickley and back, I think about the ACA and the good old days. Sometimes I get fueled up and work really hard on the way home imagining those days at the Zoo, New Jersey and the old road races in Sharon,Pa with the finish over the railroad tracks. Lots of crash and burn memories there. But all good. I come into my garage with a smile on my face as I get back to reality and change to cut the grass. Leather hairnets, wool jersies, Italian road shoes with cleats and toe clips on the pedals. Those were the days my friend- we thought they’d never end. Thanks for reading.

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The Famous Bope Ham

IMG_1633 Sometimes people like me can be self serving. I wonder when I am going to get my next ride in, can I schedule a trail run, how many ski days do I have so far? It seems like life sometimes is a series of athletic events blended in with work, family, and obligations. Enter the Famous Bope Ham.

You are probably wondering,” What on earth is the Famous Bope Ham?” Well simply put, it is absolutely the most tasty baked ham you will ever enjoy if you are fortunate enough to have a slice someday. It is the creation of my mother-in-law and the recipe has been passed down to my wife Janet who prepares it flawlessly. The picture above is Janet and our good friend Mike Dunlay with the ham. Janet brought it over to feed Mike and his family during the time when they were celebrating the life of their father who had passed away. The ham is comforting. When people see it for the first time at a funeral or if someone is ill, a smile lights up their face when they cut into the baked outer crust and dip a piece into the sweet sticky juice at the bottom of the pan. Suddenly, all the sadness, discomfort of an illness, or other maladies disappear at least for the moment as one savors a bite of this tasty comforting food. The ham appears courtesy of my loving and thoughtful wife who bakes the semi-boneless delectible meat all day or all night in the oven at low heat. The ham is scored and cloves are placed at the intersections of the scores,and finally according to the recipe, brown sugar and orange marmalade are placed on top of the cooked ham to melt and blend with the ham juice to form a most wonderful sweet, gravy. When the ham appears at an event, things come to a screeching halt as the host graciously acknowledges the gesture of my wife Janet and like a magnet, the guests in the home march like Zombies towards the treat. It is mesmerizng to be sure and when the first people slice the ham, dip the slices into the sweet gravy and eat, their eyes close with unbelief. They are hooked under the power of the Famous Bope Ham.

Holidays at my mother and father in law’s house always include the ham and when I am particularly famished after a great day on skis, a great run or ride, I am always delighted when my plate is filled with slices of this most delicious and filling meal. But here I go again with the self serving. It is not about me and my hunger, it is all about the ham. The Famous Bope Ham is more than a tasty treat delivered to a grateful home. It represents love, caring, understanding, giving spirit, all wrapped up in a sticky, sweet, tender goodness that binds families and friends together.

Perhaps no illustration could be better than when we take the ham to serve the families at the Ronald McDonald House in Pittsburgh. We bake the ham all day and get all the side dishes, drinks and desserts together and make our way to the House and get the meal to the penthouse where the families reside. If you ever feel like you want to serve people, look no further than the families who reside at RMHC. Oftentimes, they are there for weeks, months, and longer waiting for a liver transplant for their child. Perhaps their child has a debilitating illness that the good doctors at UPMC-Children’s Hospital treat over time. Oftentimes, these scenarios are life threatening and the families are not sure of the outcome. They only know that their children are in the best of care at Children’s Hospital and have a wonderful place to stay courtesy of the volunteers and staff at the Ronald McDonald Houses. There is no greater feeling than seeing a young person who is battling illness, walk into the dining room and partake of the ham. When they eat that first bite, the smile on their faces and their bright eyes looking at us brings out the bladder behind my eyeballs for sure. It is a most hearwarming moment and if only for a short while, we feel like we have made their life a little easier and their families are most grateful for the appearance of …….the Famous Bope Ham. It is more than a meal. It represents all that is good with not being self serving if only for a short while. Janet and I love those families and pray for them every day. And the ham……….once again,appears out of the oven to serve and delight the most grateful recipients. My mother always said that happiness is like a perfume that you can’t sprinkle on others without getting a little on yourself. When Janet serves the ham, and people enjoy, that perfume of happiness definitely is in the air. Thanks for reading and please support RMHC Charities.

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The Epic Mountain Bike Ride

photo9 Epic is definitely an overused term when it comes to most things. The media uses the term loosely to describe events that are off the scale for most mere mortals. Sure, there are guys and gals who ride their mountain bikes in Morrocco or in the Himalaya and are sponsored by outdoor gear companies to trek with their bikes to the far corners of the world for a week,or weeks and relate the stories about the difficulty of the trail, the lack of sufficient water and food, potential dangers with native groups who might not particularly like the intrusion of people riding bicycles in their land and mingling with their friends and relatives. There are the stories of battling the elements in order to reach their goal of riding the impossible. These are probably an apt description of what most folks term as an epic adventure.
But the term epic can also be relative. What if an excursion takes a mere mortal, weekend warrior out of his or her element and places them in a siuation where the trails, weather, time and place make the ride epic in the scope of the person’s personal experience. We all can have epic experiences if we take the term relatively instead of comparing ourselves to world class athletes. The 59 year old kid has had a couple of those epic adventures on a mountain bike and part of the fabric of an epic ride is who you share the experience with on the trail.

Two of my more memorable epic rides have been with my good friend Dixon. We have known each other since the minor league in baseball and have skied together for years. We both got involved with mountain bike riding a while back and had the idea to navigate with the Pennsylvania Department of Conversation and Natural Resources map from Dixons cabin in Westmoreland County to Ohiopyle State Park and back. It seemed like an adventure at the time seeing that we usually only ride on top of the Laurel Ridge in the State Parks and the Seven Springs Ski Resort trails. Dixon is an interesting character. When you come to his house, you are greeted by a loud hello and he is usually outfitted in construction boots, shorts and a red bandanna. The Grateful Dead is blasting on the stereo and Dixon is busy loading his oversized fanny pack with blue bubble gum and Captain Crunch- his main source of energy on the trail. Dixon protects his pack with a flowered shower cap and as we leave his cabin, he festidiously checks the locks, his pack, his bike, and all of his equipment. After a pre ride shower he routinely blow dries his whole body in order to prevent any chafing on the trail. For the work load that a tax attorney like Dixon takes on, he is in great shape and likes to ride to blow off steam. We usually left the cabin early in the morning and began our ……….epic adventure in the Laurel Mountains.

Dixon and I are, and were candidates for a GPS while riding. We constantly got lost on our way out of Normalville ( how about that Pennsylvania town name?), and referred to the map to find the trails that would lead to Turkey Foot Road. Staying close to the stream bed, we rode and as I looked beside me, I saw the gleaming smile of Dixon with his blue teeth munching merrily on his bubble gum. Blazing through some seldom ridden trails we experienced the trials of briar bush orienteering, large, deep mud puddles that were always a challenge because you never quite knew how deep they were. An over the bars and out of the pedals crash into the mosquito infested water was never out of the question. Dixon was always searching for potential fishing holes along the ride and as we always made our way towards Ohiopyle, we reloaded our supplies in the local grocery store in town. Ohiopyle is a whitewater rafters paradise and the outdoor vibe of the place is welcoming to muddy, disoriented mountain bikers. We usually spent a little too much time watching the rafters and when we decided to load up and head back, we made use of the rails to trails until we reached the first of the backwoods seldom ridden trails near Maple Summit. As late afternoon approached on these rides, we sometimes had to refer to the location of the sun to determine which way was west or east. The woods all look the same when you are lost and part of the excitement of an epic adventure is when you are totally lost and need to find a way back before dark.

In the early days of these rides, we had no GPS, cell phones, or other modern ammenities that would make the adventure fool proof. We just referred to the ratty map and made our way through farms, fire roads and old deer trails until we reached a familiar gravel road that led us to Indian Head at the bottom of the mountain near Dixon’s cabin. I can remember one spring ride when we were totally out of food and water, the temperature was dropping fast, and we entered the Red and White store in Indian Head and split a pack of fig newtons. Usually I laid on my back on the porch and jammed the newtons in my mouth muttering how in the world I was going to pedal up that hill back to the cabin. Dixon always had a bright approach to things and we usually talked the lady who owned the market into riding us up the hill in her red pick up truck. Other times we would make our way as far as the Mountain Club on County Line Road and use the garden hose to get a drink and blast the inches of caked and frozen mud from our bikes. The hollow looks from some of the guys that rode with us indicated that they were all on their last legs along with the 59 year old kid, but Dixon and his blue bubble gum sustained his cheery disposition even at the end of an 11 hour adventure.

The Laurel Highlands are not challenging when compared to the epic rides that you see in the magazines, but then again, relatively speaking to the mere mortal, the epic adventure to Ohiopyle and back was adventurous in our minds. Wildlife, rain and snow, poorly marked trails, mud, aggressive farmers and their dogs, and redneck traffic always make for great stories on the trail. When you have a friend like Dixon who is a real character, it makes these rides memorable. So go do something epic. Chances are you will have fun and have some good stories to tell about your personal adventure. It may not make a magazine, but it will make your memory banks for sure. Thanks for reading.

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“I did it!”

photo This simple phrase is always heard in jubilation at any finish line of a race where hard work paid off. Take the guy in the picture above. Sridhar Mandyam is my next door neighbor who last year signed up for a program at our local YMCA called” from couch to 5K.” Sridhar is an IT consultant and does a lot of work with overseas customers and has many late nights. He was not much for physical activity due to his hard work and hours but he claims that seeing me all the time in the driveway with my bikes and skis inspired him to get off the couch and do someting physical before it was too late. I was flattered of course but more importantly, Sridhar changed his life. He ran all of last year and this winter, and prepared for his first race- The Pittsburgh Half Marathon.

Sridhar’s physical appearance has changed. He looks like a runner and has that healthy glow of someone who is enjoying his exercise and endorphin boost. When he showed up at my front door after the half and proudly displayed his finisher’s medal which you see above, I could not have been more proud of my next door neighbor. I took his picture as he glowed in the satisfaction of completing the race that he had prepared so hard to finish. That smile on his face is priceless and Sridhar is hooked on running. He can’t wait for his next race. He will definitely do the half again next year and who knows what other races will come his way. But his lifestyle is changed. No matter how busy he is, he has to get his run in. The sign of a man who is inspired to be physically fit and values his health.

A similar story occurred a few years ago when a friend of mine, who was living in Maine at the time, decided to do the full marathon in Pittsburgh. He asked me if I wanted to do it with him and I said yes and I began the tedious preparation of training for the event. He trained as well up in Maine on cold, lonely back roads in the dead of a New England winter. As the day approached, I became acutely aware that the weather was not going to be favorable for a marathon in Pittsburgh. The high the day of the race would be in the 80’s and at race start, it was already in the 60’s. I told my friend that he should eat something before we left- he didn’t. I told him to wear a hat and sunglasses- he didn’t. I told him to drink along the route as much as possible- he didn’t. At the 20 mile mark after all of his preparation, he totally shut down and was ready to take a cab to the finish. I would hear none of that because of his preparation and his training for the race as I implored him to walk. We walked for 4+ miles and when we came in range of the finsh line I told him that he must run or jog across the finish line- he was not to walk across the finish line of the Pittsburgh Marathon. We argued about it a little bit but I convinced him to run which he did right into the arms of the volunteers who took him to the medical tent to get an IV. As his wife, my wife, and I waited for him to exit the medical tent, he came out with his finisher’s medal beaming from ear to ear. ” I did it” he said and we all were so proud of his monumental effort. To this day he has his picture, medal, and race number proudly displayed in a frame in his living room. I hope Sridhar does the same with his picture and medal. “I did it” they said!

Most of the people who enter running races or any race for that matter are doing it to finish and achieve a sense of satisfaction for training and achieving their goal. They are not in it for time, place, or anything competitive except with themselves. Only a small percentage are experienced and running for time and place. Most weekend warriors are working toward the goal of just finishing what they have entered. When you see these folks cross the finish line of their first race, they are beaming and thrilled beyond belief. That is the magic potion of entering a race. A lot of people criticize those who train for an event most likely because they have never experienced the joy of completing a competition. There are a lot of couch potatoes out there who would rather make remarks than get off the couch to try it themselves. But for those who do, the nervousness of the start line, the exuberance of the crowd of fellow competitors when the gun goes off, and the ecstatic emotion that comes with crossing a finish line and getting that medal is one that you will never forget. I feel sorry for those who never test themselves and experience the euphoria of race day. My friend who ran the marathon says it was one of the high points of his life. Sridhar is still on cloud 9 with his excitement for his newfound passion. If you haven’t had the experience, check with your doctor then try it. As the famed ski film producer Warren Miller always says,” you better do it this year, because you will be a year older when you do.” Then you can say with pride……” I did it!” Thanks for reading.

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Riding on the rothROCKS!!

Purple Lizard Mapstussey2-0Rothrock-(4)-0rothrock_crop_1024x1024photo17 My wife Janet is a Penn Stater. She and her family bleed Blue and White and for the last 26 years of our marriage we have made the pilgrimage to Happy Valley for homecoming, and other PSU related events. The bonus for me, and also my buddy who you see here on the left in the 3 guy picture (Dr. Mike Smith of Philadelphia), is that we get to ride at Rothrock State Forest. It’s always nice to have an Osteopath along when bouncing along the rocky trails of central Pennsylvania. Mike, Bobby Reading and I always get together at homecoming to ride mountain bikes and then enjoy the sumptuous feast at the tailgate during and after the game. Mike and I have had some real adventures over the years up at the Rothrock and they don’t call it Roth-rock for nothing. See the pictures above as a testament to the challenges of the trails. Momentum is always your friend on rock strewn trails but if you stray on the wrong ones, like the Mid-State Trail, you not only get some unrideable climbs but the tombstone like rocks present a challenge even when we have to walk in some sections. Mike and I have slid across icy bridges, ridden the rocks in the ice and the snow, searing heat, biblical rains, and we always consider it an epic adventure. It has been great to have him and Bobby as accomplices in mountain bike fun over all of these years. Even when I ride solo, there is something special about looking out over Bear Meadows, admiring the foliage, and looking skyward to see the Blue and White of PSU painted all over the horizon.

If you are inclined to try this area, I would recommend that you at least purchase the Purple Lizard map available at all the bike shops in State College. I have an old ratty one that I have used for years with the exception of the one year that I forgot it along with my cell phone. The long and the short of that adventure was that I ended up 25 miles from the ski area at Tussey Mountain( our starting point), alone, out of water in my pack, out of food and it was getting dark. The Central Pa. mountains are very remote and I was due back at State College an hour before. Fortunately, I was able to find one couple who was camping and they graciously agreed to drive me back to Tussey. I sat with my bike in the back of their pickup and had it not been for their benevolence, I would surely have spent the night in the wilds of the Rothrock State Forest. My wife was none too happy as I entered the Ritchey house( her roomate from college), several hours late, in the dark, and late for our dinner engagement. I am surely a candidate for a new Garmin GPS which should at least be insurance in the event that I ever get lost again. But, to continue, there are a number of great shops in State College- The Bicycle Shop http://www.thebicycleshopinc.com and Freeze Thaw Bikes- http://www.freezethaw.com which can assist with rentals, parts, and anything else that you would need to tackle these great trails. I would also recommend checking http://www.mtbproject.com and http://www.happyvalleybiking.com for further information. The Ride Guide TV show out of Canada on the Ski Channel also did a great expose on the area. You can catch the highlights on You Tube.

One thing about mountain bike riding in Pennsylvania and West Virginia is that you have to get used to riding trails that are rocky and technical. When you get into the Laurel Mountains and the Central Pa. ridges, there is no getting around riding technical trails. You can take a breather on the many fire roads,but for the most part, you will pay your dues on these paths of destruction. Some days, I feel energized and have the mojo to ride most of the rocky sections, but on other days, I have crashed and burned and have paid the price for challenging the shale and granite of the Keystone State. The Tussey Mountain Trail and the John Wert Path have several sections of real rocky terrain. If you add the elements of rain, snow, or ice, the ante is upped exponentially and momentum is definitely required to survive. However, the beauty of the ridges coupled with sunny days or changing leaves, add to the general feeling of satisfaction in immersing yourself into the mountainous terrain of Pennsylvania. My favorite moment comes at the end of most rides when we ride down the Longberger Path to the parking lot. This downhill has a few rocky sections but the descent is the reward for all the climbing of the day. Most of the rides in this area end up near the Tussey ski area and the long downhills, culminating with a tasty beverage at the end of the ride, makes all the rocky suffering worthwhile and gives you the great memories and feelings to make sure that you come back soon.

Mike,Bobby, and I are not Penn Staters, but riding in the Rothrock has forged many memories that bring a satisfying feeling that somehow we belong here. I am a Nittany Lion at heart even though I never hit a book here. I am sure that I will be eating Janet and Val’s chili and Judy’s turkey, slaw and challah for many years to come on those homecoming weekends. It tastes really good after a long ride in the Rothrock. But on those solo rides, when they occur, I will be more careful to be prepared. No more pickup truck rides for me. Thanks for reading and come ride the rocks!!!

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The Local Loop

photophotophoto Every town in America has its iconic running and cycling loop. The Central Park track around the reservoir in New York City comes to mind along with the roads there that are closed to traffic on the weekends to facilitate bicycling. You can run the route along the Charles River in Boston or Lakeshore Drive in Chicago which all have the history of being where most people start to walk, run or ride a bike close to where they live. We have our own iconic loop here in Pittsburgh at North Park Lake.

The Lake Loop is 5 miles around and has traditionally been a benchmark for beginner runners and walkers. If you can make the 5 miles, you have definitely accomplished something. When I first started running out there with Ralph Schmitt and Les Brodie, 5 miles was a daunting task but eventually it became routine and variations of the route became the norm along with escaping the antics of Les and Ralph. Snowball battles, tipping Port a Johns, and other distractions along the runs became stuff of legend. Eventually, time became a factor for me and I began my quest for the all encompassing PR(personal records) not only around the loop and the variations, but in 10K races with our crew, pictured above. We had fun times back then but like Brenda and Eddy, you can never go back to the green. Different crowd, different atmosphere but………….still same old lake loop. Crowded on January 1st with all the New Years Day resolutionists, crowded on the first, nice spring day, and most of the summer. Isolated in the harsh days of winter but still observers can see the presence of the hard core Lake Loopers grinding out the miles in the snow.

If that loop could talk, you would have the most interesting book in print today. New mothers relating stories about their children,ER docs relating their care of gunshot wounds, couples discussing life together and life’s troubles, hard core runners not thinking about anything but heart rate and time, and cyclists battling the crowded bike path and surrounding roads with cars always to their left. Heck, Mick Jagger used to run the loop when he was in town. Imagine some of those conversations. I am sure Keith was not with him but the Pittsburgh Marathon staff certainly were entertained by Mick who was a faithful 7 mile runner. I have had some interesting experiences around that lake. Once time returning from a road ride out north, I was rounding the loop back to the parking lot at Stone Field when I felt a “WHAK” on the back of my neck. It was a chipped ham sandwich with mayo( the classic Pittsburgh Teddy Bear sandwich) along with a scathing, yelling commentary from the passing guy in the passenger seat of a car telling me to ” get the f@#$ off the road, a@@#$%^. Not really what you want to hear at the end of a pleasant road ride in the country, but I kept my head down and kept peddling none the less. I don’t mess with angry drivers- they carry guns.

It is interesting that things have changed a bit around the Lake Loop. Lots more people, and now with separate running and cycling lanes, the coveted real estate is guarded by some aggressive types. Our group comments all the time about people running and cycling around the lake who hold their ground and you better get out of the way or you risk getting run over- literally. There are road riders who fly around that lake. I call them the North Park specials because they ride in a pack and are really fast around the flat lake loop but never seem to venture out of the park to ride a hill. Some folks are clueless when they walk or run 4 abreast forcing those going in the opposite direction to seek refuge in the road along the loop. This can be a little dangerous and many crashes and falls have occurred. Courtesy sometimes plays second fiddle to the dedicated lake loopers who get their ride or run in come hell or high water. Get out of the way or prepare to die. Not the way it used to be but things seem to mellow as the season moves on and the enthusiasm of the rank and file seems to wane with the changing seasons. The hard core are still there but the newcomers and less dedicated seem to vanish as the temperatures and weather change. But the loop- remains constant. 5 miles. No getting around it.

I remember the days of 30 minutes around that lake. I look at the fast guys now and wonder what happened to the time. I generally run trails in the winter so the loop has been ignored by me with the exception of returning from a ride or walking with my wife. I wonder what I will look like in the years ahead running or walking around that lake? I am sure I will return at a much slower pace and continue the walks. I will age and get slower but one thing remains constant- the lake loop will always be 5 miles- winter, summer, spring, and fall. Thanks for reading and give some love to your local loop.

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Know the Rules!

From the Best of http://www.chroniclesofmccloskey.com

AP570722027_t62014d7c856-bf4a-4b95-ada5-4359dd6b415cGOClogo-shannopin-country-club Its funny, people come up to me and ask if I play golf? I respond,” only if I have to.” I am a little too nervous and jerky for golf and I always remark that if they could pitch the golf ball to me, I might do better. In any event, outside of the occasional 9 holes for fun with Janet(my wife), I really don’t play much golf. However, I do have a history of sorts with the sport. I rented clubs at Ballybunion, the famous course on the west coast of Ireland, and promptly lost 6 balls on the first 6 holes because the rough was so high. I ended up returning the clubs because the shop was closed and walked the rest of the course just to see it. Very scenic but not a place for me to play golf.

When I was a kid, my dad played golf at Shannopin Country Club in Pittsburgh and being a child of the depression, he was father enough to say that,” I play golf here- you can work here.” Which is what I did, parking cars, working in the kitchen, and most of all caddying. Being a caddy was an enlightening endeavor in that you met the most interesting people and see how they react under competitive circumstances. Take the good guys- Gene Sutherland, Don McClelland, Bill McClelland, and whatever victim they could find as their fourth. My friend Tom Herder and I would park in the lot at about 3:00 AM so we could be the first on the list to assure two rounds of doubles on any given Saturday. If we were given these guys, we were assured of balls right down the middle and hilarious comments in the midst of a very competitive and financially lucrative competition. These guys would try to beat each other each weekend, get a shot and a beer at the turn, press the bets, and then continue the competition at the card table playing gin late into the night. If I was on the winning side, I got a nice tip. If not, they were still generous but not happy.

The other caddying experiences were not as fun with the hackers spewing drives and errant iron shots into the woods. If I found one close to the out of bounds marker, I would kick it back in bounds to keep the round going and also assure a nice tip because of the pleasant experience of finding a surely out of bounds ball miraculously in bounds. Smiles abounding and a nice financial reward at the end of the day. The ladies days were another story. There were the good ones like Carol Semple who was a national amateur champion but most of the ladies who participated were, shall we say, challenged. I was always polite but when they asked me what to hit on their 19th shot on the hole, did it really matter? Oh well.

All of the time spent at Shannopin yielded me a nice benefit one year. John Conley, who was the golf professional, asked me if I wanted to work in his place as a marshal on one of the holes at the US Open at Oakmont in 1973. That was the year Johnny Miller set the course record with 63 on the final round. I marveled at his focus as he seemed to float through my hole just staring into the distance and visually acknowledging no one. He was in the “zone” and the 63 was remarkable. As a marshal, I was representing the local chapter of the PGA and had a PGA hat on my head along with an official Oakmont US Open 1973 shirt and slacks. I sure looked official even though I was 18 and didn’t look anything like a golf professional. The moment of truth came about when Lionel Hebert, a veteran tour professional, hit his ball into the sand trap right in front of me. As he approached, my blood pressure started to escalate as he asked me if he could get some relief seeing that there was water in the trap. I looked for the USGA guy who was not in sight and fortunately I remembered the Rule Number 25 in the USGA Rules that addressed casual water. I remember from my caddy days that if you could bring up water by pushing your foot near the ball, it was considered “casual water” and the golfer would be granted a club length relief. I stated this and Lionel Hebert stepped near the ball, brought up water, and looked at me. Fortunately the blue jacket and the gray pants of the USGA Official came into sight as I gave my opinion, he nodded that this was the right call and granted Hebert a club length relief. Lionel placed the ball in a dry spot, took out an iron and sent the ball flying and thanked me for the ruling. I was relieved and the USGA guy nodded his approval and moved on. I couldn’t get off that course fast enough but what an experience for an 18 year old caddy and car parker from Shannopin. Whew!!!

Good thing my dad made me work as much as he did. It built character and understanding of life that I took with me to the box factory where I worked summers in my college years. It honed a work ethic that I have tried to pass on to my son Jack who is carrying the McCloskey torch with employment. It all seems so long ago but Shannopin and the US Open at Oakmont are etched in my brain forever. Thanks for reading.  Back to the trail and woodsy stuff next week. Fore!!!!!

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“The Faceplant”

IMG_2349root If you examine the photo above, (click on the title of this blog if you don’t see it), you will see what I would term as one of the great face plants of all time. This is my friend Scott Root who was leading a mountain bike race down in West Virginia when he had a slight collision with another rider that sent him flying and tacoed his wheel. You can see this in the flying debris above Scott’s head. Now I have been over a lot of handlebars in my time both on the road and on a mountain bike and also have caught an edge on skis that sent me careening on my face down a snowy slope, but I have never seen a plant as heinous as this. Interestingly Scott survived and actually drove himself home and was nursing what he termed as “hole” in his shoulder. He had the foresight to go see a doctor the next day but somehow managed his pain after the race and on the long drive back from the mountains of West Virginia.

I tell you all of this not only to give you appreciation of the collossal face plant, but also to tell you a little bit about Scott Root. I first ran into Scott years ago when he was an outstanding swimmer and a terrific athlete even at a young age. We are contemporaries and his prowess as a swimmer was well known in the AAU circles. He went on to a very successful high school and college career and I ran into him years later when he entered the fray of mountain bike racing. ” Weren’t you the Scott Root that I knew years ago as a swimmer?” The affirmative answer also led to many discussions which included the fact that Scott was the silver medalist in the World Masters Mountain Bike Race in Quebec a number of years ago. He is a very successful local and regional racer and to this day still races in the Expert Category rather than compete with the Masters who are his contemporaries. Point being that Scott still rides and races at a very high level despite the fact that he is a contemporary of the 59 year old kid. Some of us have kept up riding and staying in shape because it is important for good health. Scott takes it one step further by staying in race shape and never letting his guard down over the years.

Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin refer to the classics bike racers as “hard men of the peloton.” If you look at my post from last week, you will see George Hincapie competing in Paris Roubaix and he surely was one of the “hard men of the peloton.” Scott Root would qualify as one of the hard men around here. Not many guys could pick themselves up after a face plant like that and get home with a “hole” in their shoulder and not seek medical help until the next day. Not many guys his age can ride at that level against a much younger competition and still win and place in most Expert Races. Not many guys are that dedicated that they commute to work on a bike in all kinds of winter weather and searing summer temperatures. Scott does and remains a very fit individual. There is a lesson here. I always try to encourage folks to get involved with outdoor pursuits and even at my age, you can keep doing what you have been doing as long as you are consistent and nothing catastrophic happens to you. Ratchet it up a level and some of you can continue to ride, run, ski hard and do it at a very high level. Ratchet it up one more level, and you continue to train and race like Scott and keep being competitive at an older age. No matter where you find yourself, keeping fit and testing your limits, can be an enlightening and productive way to spend your off time. You would be amazed to see the older athletes out there today competing and just partaking in high level outdoor pursuits. You don’t quit playing because you get old, you get old because you quit playing. You don’t have to be a “hard man of the peleton” but you also don’t have to let age dictate your fun or lack thereof.

One other comment on the “Faceplant”. Many of us have faceplants in life that do not happen over the bar of a bicycle or on a pair of skis. Some of us have things going real well and then all of a sudden we have a job loss, the loss of a spouse, issues with children, aging parents, any number of things that can lead to a virtual faceplant but a tough experience nonetheless. Life is 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent how you react to it. Can you survive the faceplants in life? I have had my share both literally and figuratively but I always find that having a positive attitude and counting my blessings in life help me through these “plants”. Never underestimate the power of thankfulness and prayer as you go through life’s faceplants. You may not be banging your head off the asphalt like Scotty here but if you take his attitude and get up to fight another day, you can be a “hard man” in your own right aided by the experience of a fall and the courage to face another challenge- day by day. Keep riding, running, skiing, swimming, whatever floats your boat and thanks for reading and following the blog.