November 10, 2013 by patmccloskey

The New England Road Trip

I drive a lot of miles in a year. Between work trips and all my extracurricular activity for skiing, cycling and family trips, I put a lot of miles on a vehicle. For work, my general rule is that if it is 6 hours or under, I drive. I really don’t want to fly unless the distance dictates it. Airports are a hassle but a necessary evil in our day and times. But on the other side of the coin, I like to take road trips. You can pack more than you might otherwise, and you can dictate your own schedule. You can listen to your music in the vehicle, CDs, books on tape and most of all you have the time to relax,put the sun roof down, and take some personal time. I like road trips and the ones with my family are gold in that we have hours to talk and be with each other uninterrupted. But, I also like my solo trips because it is a chance to take some time, sit behind the wheel, listen, and think.

Back in the days in college when I went to New Hampshire for the first time to ski with a friend of my dad’s, I fell in love with the White Mountains. I really enjoyed Mt. Cranmore and the Mt. Washington Valley and the most scenic highway in the northeast- the Kancamangus Highway. After college, I worked at Sugarloaf, Maine for the winter and really enjoyed my experiences there. (See my earlier blog post-Maine Memories). All in all, that area of the country had a special appeal to me and it drew me back, year after year, with road trips in all the different seasons. I had taken the path of least resistance after my winter in Maine and worked for my father in our small manufacturer’s rep business. As I made my way through my early days in the sales wars, I often made lunch stops between visits to the steel mills and machine shops, and read my ski magazines and other periodicals about life in New England. My commitment to my family business was taking root for better of for worse, and the need for a road trip was a welcome respite from the industrial day to day in the sales world. I racked my brain trying to think how I could make a living at the time somewhere in the Northeast living in that great area of the country, but as adventurous as I was with my avocations, I was not that adventurous with a career change or taking a chance. I figured the best thing I could do was to stick with what I was doing and save up to take the frequent road trips to the Northeast.

The best road trips up there were to visit my buddy Mike Smith who owns a marina on Lake George. The both of us would frequently make the trek to Killington to ski with our good friends, the Durfees, who lived in Bethel, Vermont at the time. I think I could take that trip from Pittsburgh in my sleep. 79 North, to 90 East, cut the corner in Amsterdam, New York, get spit out at Ballston Spa, hop on the Adirondack Northway(I-87 North) to Rt 189, to Rt 4 to Rt7, past Killington and turn at Bills Country Store for the home stretch into Bethel. Lots of good times up there including our cross country ski excursions on Sundays in the stone quarry where we tried killing ourselves xc skiing up and down the piles of gravel covered with snow. Lots of busted equipment and lots of laughs between ski outings at the Beast of the East- Killington,Vermont. I learned about the value of Grade A maple syrup by observing the sugaring process at the Durfee’s neighbor’s house. I learned about wood stoves and how important it was for Bethel residents to make sure they got their wood in the basement for the winter to power their furnaces. Lots of sub zero ski days, road cycling outings on the back roads of Vermont and treks to the White Mountains to ski our beloved Tuckerman Ravine.

I couldn’t wait for those trips and had some hairy experiences in the winter making my way through Buffalo. Freezing rains with tractor trailers sliding sideways on the Interstates, to 3 foot snow events slowing my usual 10 hour trip times. However, it was adventurous and I always drove four wheel drive vehicles so I felt that I had some advantage even though they slide as much as any vehicle. If you check out my Fourth of July post, you will see that one year, my neighbors thought I was moving when I took a New England road trip with my bike, skis, golf clubs, tennis racquets, and water ski. That was maybe one of the best road trips of all time.

I still take road trips often and when I travel regionally for work, I always take my toys with me, either skis or a mountain bike and make the most of a trip. Why spend your evenings sitting in some restaurant by yourself or a bar pickling yourself when you can see a great state park, a lake, a great mountain, or take advantage of some other nice outdoor adventure right nearby? I have not taken a New England road trip for a while because the Durfees are now out in Tahoe and we visit them there. But,I do make a point to see my friend Mark Hutchinson in East Randolph, Vermont and ski the Beast whenever I am in the New England area. Also, Mike Smith is still at Lake George and we get together to ski the Adirondacks and enjoy the lake. It’s just like anything else, you have to make the effort to go see other places and the road trip is a great way to do it. It may take longer than flying and getting a rental car, but if at all possible, the road trip is relaxing, and living out of your vehicle is comforting and practical. Hit the road Jack!!! Thanks for reading.

November 7, 2013 by patmccloskey

The Toilet Bowl

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

You know ,we all are really like a piece of malleable iron. Life’s experiences mold us, shape us, prod us, squeeze us, as we go through the refiner’s fire of life. This shaping process makes us what we are as adults and forms our basic personalities. A lot of this happens during the formative years of our lives. Take for instance when I learned to swim as a boy. I took lessons and was pretty good in the shallow end. When it came time for the test, I was afraid of the deep water. My mother who was sitting in the lounges with all of her girlfriends in hysterectomy row, as the lifeguards called it, was observing the proceedings. She instructed Don Geyer the pool manager to throw me in much to the horror of her friends. She said,” ladies- that water is going to get deeper and deeper every year.” Don threw me in and I swam to the side and with jubilation I said to my mom, I did it! My mom said,” Patrick- you can do anything you want to do in life.” With that, Don dropped me off the low board and eventually the high board and I passed the test.

A few years later, I swam in the winter for a team at the Northside YMCA and witnessed a lot of interesting happenings in the bowels of the city. One night while we were waiting to be picked up, two guys came running into the lobby where we were, wielding knives as two city police officers chased and eventually apprehended them. I told my parents what went on that night and my mom said,” Patrick- life is not the suburbs. It is good for you to see the other side of life and how tough it is in the city.” I would learn to appreciate that as I was bullied and had to defend myself with city kids. I held my own and usually was invited to their birthday parties after a few punches and pushes in the pool gained their respect. I was not a fighter but the refiner’s fire of the Northside forced me to defend my adolescent position in life. I worked most of my young life because my dad thought it was important for me to learn to be responsible to a job. Lots of molding, shaping, prodding, squeezing in those days.

Other lessons were learned by our daily routine at this time of year. Touch football on the Nicolette’s front lawn in our neighborhood. We had a posse of kids. Richard and John Nicolette, Cliff Forrest, Glen and Ron Zankey, Carl Shultz, and our hero- Rick Cuneo who was dating Jane Nicolette at the time and was headed off soon to Vietnam. Rick was an amazing athlete and every day after school, we all would play on the slanted, tight field which was the front yard of the Nicolette family. There we tested our athletic prowess every day with Rick proving to us all that he was the superior athlete much to the admiration of Jane as she watched the games. So, one day Rick goes off to Vietnam and we were a little shaken until we got a letter back from him stating that he was teaching surfing in Chu Lai which was a base on the ocean. Not too bad a duty for our star athlete. But Rick had prepared us for the annual challenge of the older kids from Woodland Road across the street from our neighborhood. Every Thanksgiving, we had the Toilet Bowl and the challenge was always paramount in the minds of all of us. The guys from across the street included the Rose brothers who skateboarded down a very steep Woodland Road on each other’s shoulders. They had a little screw loose which made them dangerous at bowl time. The Fisher brothers were good athletes, Michael Martin, and some of the other guys brought their friends who were freshman football players from Slippery Rock University. I remember clearly after all the trash talking, having a clear shot at the quarterback only to be knocked into the middle of next week by the pulling guard from SRU. As I sat dazed and confused, the plays went on and once again the boys of Richmond Circle were defeated by the Woodland Road gang. As we made our way back across Siebert Road, we were taunted by a couple of hoods- Buster Livingston and his sister. Both sported leather jackets and those cyclone fence climbing pointy shoes with the Cuban heels. They didn’t play but they made sure we knew they were badasses and that thier posse had beaten our posse.

The Toilet Bowl went on for a few years and then faded into the memory of all of us as we made our way to college.Thanksgiving football games are really popular and these days there are even official tournaments for Turkey Bowls and Toilet Bowls as we all prepare for the eating and the subsequent snoozefest that is the Thanksgiving feast. A lot of the games are a little too organized for me as I see these types of official tournaments, teams and leagues that are common among the youth of America. What happened to the old pickup games? Everybody today has to get a trophy, a uniform, and accolades from adoring parents and coaches. The old days of the pickup baseball games and football games seem to be fading like the setting sun. Some of that refining fire took place when you picked teams, learned how to take it if you were the last guy picked, got into scuffles, and played all day until your parents went crazy calling you home for dinner. Touch football in the neighborhood taught me how to take a hit, how to grin and bear it when you cut yourself and got stitches, and basically got clean fresh air until the time change forced the early ending of the neighborhood clashes on the Nicolette front lawn.Those guys from Woodland Road always got the best of us but we always were up for the challenge which taught us how to compete with older kids who relished taking their aggressions out on the younger guys from Richmond Circle. We gave them a run for their money one year after Rick returned from his tour of duty and they balked at his participaton. But all was fair when we brought Rick and they brought their testosterone heads from SRU to play. Even the hoods shut up on those days. Yes- the Toilet Bowl and the neighborhood games were another part of my molding.I wouldn’t change a thing and I am happy the way that the refiner’s fire spit me out. Thanks for reading and get ready for the Bird. He is coming soon.

November 3, 2013 by patmccloskey

Cyclists- those that have crashed and those that will.

My friend Bob Reading broke his brand new Specialized helmet a couple of weeks ago when he crashed on his mountain bike up at Rothrock State Forest in State College, Pa. A couple of weeks later, he went down twice on his road bike near his home in Florida. His lovely wife Valerie provided us all with pictures of his road rash which brought back a lot of memories for me and they are not too pleasant. Bob is one of the nicest guys you will ever meet and a very fit and talented rider. But things happen on a bike sometimes that just sneak up on you. John Howard, who was on the U.S Cycling Team and the first winner of the Race Across America says there are two types of bike racers or cyclists for that matter. Those who have crashed and those who will. It happens and when you are the 58 year old kid like me, you ride to ride another day.

That was not always the case. When I used to ride in criteriums, which were an accident waiting to happen on a tight course with a lot of riders, the slightest mishap like a touched wheel, a rider hitting the brakes in a corner, or someone who had not glued his tubular tires correctly on a rim resulted in riders going down. I had my share of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and went skidding across the course getting that all too familiar road rash on my legs and hip. I sailed over a haybale in a corner in a crit in Parkersburg, WV. and ended up in a mall parking lot dazed and confused. I was fortunate not to break the collarbone which was a common cycling accident. My friend Art Bonavoglia was not so lucky as he did it during a contested sprint. I witnessed another friend George Sagan go skidding under the announcers stand at the Vet Nationals one year. I rode a criterium in the rain one year in New Jersey and there was a huge crash where I was forced up onto the sidewalk, made it around the crash and ended up in front with a bunch of Jersey guys who would take you down for a $5.00 prime.(lap prize). I stayed out of their way and was happy to finish in one piece.

Road races had the same issues and you always tried to stay as close to the front as possible to avoid any crashes. But sometimes you just could not avoid problems due to weather or the careless riding of those in the pack. One race, we had to finish the sprint going over a railroad track. Guys who didn’t research the course didn’t know about the track at the end and had issues when at top speed they went across the track carelessly and went down hard. Another crazy race, the promoters handed out index cards with places written on them. Guys were diving to get the cards and taking riders down right and left. When you are younger, you think you are invincible and do some dumb things on a bicycle. My friend Eric and I went from the entrance of Killington, Vermont to Woodstock in a 60 MPH descent. I did think what could happen if the front tire blew, but I was committed and escaped an issue successfully at the bottom of the mountain. I had a similar experience coming down County Line Road up near Seven Springs Resort when I raced Reggie Zipko down the road to his house. Anything could have happened on that road and I was not too smart with that antic. I remember another time on a ride in Pittsburgh with a bunch of guys when I followed a garbage truck down a hill and into the left turning lane to Forbes Avenue. Much to my chagrin, the truck was leaking grease and as I made the left turn, the back wheel skidded on the grease and I went sailing through the intersection and landed in some hedges in front of a gas station. The grease cushioned the slide a bit but I still ended up with the nasty rash and a painful ride home.

These days I ride to ride another day for sure. One of the things you learn from experience is that you just don’t rally back as quickly when you are older. You have to back off that throttle a bit and know that you don’t have to fly down that hill, ride up over that big log or obstacle, to prove you can still hang. Use the ride for fitness because the days of being competitive are really over. Again, things can sneak up on you and you can’t help the crashes sometimes. But if you can ride with a little more caution and use your experience on the bike, you can stay upright in most situations. I think a rider as skilled as Bob Reading has had enough falls for a while. He will also ride to ride another day. But like John Howard says, the crash will happen to all of us. Lets just hope as the years go on that we are spared anything traumatic. Look ahead, ride smart in a pack, and let caution be your guide. Then we all can be the 60 year old kid riding for fitness someday. Thanks for reading. Be safe out there.

October 31, 2013 by patmccloskey

The Married Bachelor

I was out the last two nights on the mountain bike in absolutely beautiful, starlit conditions riding the trails with my new Cree light. Amazing technology for a very low price. But, as I rode along the trails and daydreamed a little bit, I thought about the seasons of my life as the 58 year old kid. I was a bachelor until just about 34 years old, then I was engaged, married to a great gal, became a new father and currently just celebrated 25 years with the bride and 18 years with our son Jack. One of the interesting seasons was when I was first married and Janet still was a flight attendant for USAirways. Jan had to get used to living with the bachelor. For instance, when she spotted my toilet in the bathroom in my townhouse, she wondered what the hanger was sticking out of from under the lid. I said that it was to shim up the float device so that it wouldn’t leak. I said all she had to do was remove the hanger, do her business, and then replace the shimming device. She said,” This isn’t going to fly Mr. Bachelor.” We laughed and I had to figure out how to replace the device with a new device. I became an expert at toilet repair.

When Jan would go out on a trip, I was basically back to my old ways in riding after work and coming home after eating with the boys. My neighbors called me the married bachelor and laughed at my life having it both ways. Night mountain bike riding was a staple and I had several crews. The one group liked urban rides in the city parks of Pittsburgh with an intermediate stop at the Penn Brewery. After a couple of nice micro brews, we ventured to some more parks and over some rather harrowing railroad bridges. The lights are great but sometimes you couldn’t spot the holes in the boards that were the catwalk alongside the tracks. If you were not careful, the front wheel could nosedive and the ultimate over the bars onto the wooded walk was the result. Also, the final uphill at 180 BPM on the heart rate monitor with the beers in you was a little unnerving. But these guys were fun and by the time I came home, I had a good workout, some good comraderie, and my neighbors who were still up marveled at my life.

The other night riding crew was a more non-traditional crew to say the least. Mountain bikers tend to be free spirits and I ended up out in the woods in the eastern part of town later at night than I usually intended. This crew was fun, good riders, but stopped often to light up a few fatties and sit and look at the moon. Being a non-partaker, I liked the company and the ride, but was anxious to get rolling( not the fattie) and get back to my car and back to my house before it became insanely late. Again, the neighbors would laugh as I returned even late at night because from out of their window or out for a late night stroll, they lived vicariously through me as the married bachelor. ” What would Jan say if she knew you were out mountain bike riding at night, on railroad tracks,in city parks or suburban parks, drinking beer and carousing until now?” I laughed and said, ” she knows I ride. She just doesn’t know all the details.”

The Married Bachelor also went on ski trips when the bride was working. We had no children at the time and if she was working, sometimes I would get a wild hair and use my airline pass and book a flight to see some of my skiing buddies. I would run into some of her flight attendant friends who would ask where Janet was and I said…..”working.” They would laugh and say “nice life you have because of her labor, McCloskey.” I said,” Marry me, fly for free.” Only sometimes I took it to the extreme. But all in all, the neighbors would see me packing my ski bag and just shake their head and say, “what are you going to do when you have kids?” I said, ” I will cross that road when I come to it” and headed to the airport. Lots of powder, groomed trails, and fun with the ski buddies.

I was always dilligent in keeping in touch with my flying bride and oftentimes it was from somewhere out on a trail or in some watering hole with the dirtheads. But the transition from bachelor to married life was a little easier than most guys have it. Looking back, poor Jan had it worse than me. Gone during the week and coming back to a leaking toilet, or surprises in the basement because of the hole in the foundation that allowed visitors into the basement unattended. In my usual bachelor ways, I promised my bride that I would have that fixed and while she was away, I got an old 8 track tape box and jammed it up against the hole with some cement blocks behind it. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t much to the dismay of the bride doing wash in the basement and being greeted by either a living species or a dead one in a trap. She was a trooper and the married bachelor slowly came around to being a respectable human being.

When Jack came along, things changed a bit. Jan was no longer flying and my riding was confined to the butt crack of dawn during the week before work and on the weekends. The skiing was altered in the same manner but married life was wonderful especially with the new boy in the house. Lots of adventures since then that included skiing, riding, baseball, basketball, and now the boy is 18 and off to college next year. We all wonder what happened to the time and as we look back at the seasons of our life, Janet and I have a lot of laughs about the married bachelor days and the transition to fatherhood and settling in with the bride. I am so glad I did it. I had a lot of fun in the single days but nothing compares to being married with a son. Now the rides are in the evenings again because the time constraints have eased a bit. As I make my way through the leaves and the cooler weather on the trails, I enjoy them with friends, or by myself, or better yet………with the bride who saved the married bachelor. Thanks for reading and …………..think snow!!!

October 27, 2013 by patmccloskey

Packing for a Trip is an Art and a Science

These are the famous words of Steve Elliott who is a co-worker and a very experienced traveler. Steve travels light on business trips but he is also a motorcycle rider and has to be careful of what he takes on trips because he has to support it on the bike. Steve is also an accomplshed photographer and it is amazing what he can fit into his camera bag. His experience traveling the globe has taught him the wisdom of not taking too much when you travel. You only need so much and with experience, you can learn what is important and what is not.

I have my own protocol which I will share with you, but first I would like to entertain you with the major mistakes that I have made in my life and the lessons that I have learned. For instance, in my early skiing and camping days at Tuckerman Ravine, I thought it would be a good idea to pack my food in my pack in Pittsburgh before I left on my 12 hour drive. I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of a loaf of bread and put them back in the bread bag. As they bounced in my pack on the way up, and on the hike up, and against the wall of the lean to as I slept, by midweek I had peanut butter and jelly doughballs to eat. Freeze dried foods were the answer. I bought a hockey goalie bag one time because I thought it would be the perfect bag for all equipment and clothing on a trip. The problem was that the space made me greedy and I packed way too much and the bag weighed a ton. I now find that several bags like the duffles from Bean are perfect and have rollers. With the hockey bag on one shoulder and the ski or bike bag on the other shoulder, I was lucky I did not throw my back out of whack. Way too much weight in one bag.

I just finished reading a book by Paul Stutzman called “Hiking Through”. It is his story of his journey all along the Appalachian Trail. It was interesting to read how he sent winter clothing home at the post office and picked up a shipment of lighter clothing from his friends. Obviously there is a lot of planning in arranging food and clothing drops but the mantra of the trail is the lighter the better. When you hike 2000+ miles, you need your pack to only contain the essentials and not extra clothes and food that you do not need. Ramp this up a bit and the packing rules for climbing Everest can be so strict that climbers break toothbrushes in half to conserve weight. When you get to those altitudes, you need your pack to be as light as possible because the effort is really difficult and one thing you don’t need is to be heavy in the pack.

So, bringing it back to my level again, these are my protocols for my different activities:

Skiing- I start from the feet up. Skis, boots, poles obviously. I then pack my socks, longjohns, ski outfit, a couple of t-necks, a sweater, a fleece vest, wool hat, gloves and a baseball cap with a pair of jeans. Most of this can fit in my green duffle and the ski bag and if you overflow, you can use the ski bag for extra clothes. But I try to make sure I have cold weather gear because I can always strip down. But I find that if I go from the feet up, I don’t usually forget anything.

Cycling trips- again, I go from the feet up and make sure that I have cycling shoes,socks, extra cycling kits, including arm warmers, and knee warmers, some rain jackets that can be packed in the back of a cycling jersey. T shirts, underwear, and shorts with a fleece vest are usually the only other thing you need. One time we went for a two day down and back road bike ride on the Skyline Drive in Virginia. We made arrangements to stay at a hotel on the southern end. All we had was a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt stuffed in the back pockets of our cycling jersey along with our wallets. We rode 100+ miles on the Skyline Drive, checked into the hotel, showered, ordered a pizza and sat around in the t-shirt and shorts and went to sleep. The next day, we put the cycling stuff back on again after we had washed it in the sink, and stuffed the clothes in the back of the jersey again. Two 100+ days on the bike with minimum baggage. We had to carry everything so the lighter we were, the better we were.

Hiking like the other two activites is dictated by the length of the trip and the weather expected. But as we have said, the lighter the better. Like the Skyline Drive ride, all of our needs are on our back so it good to save the back and keep it light. Foul weather gear is important but you must look at the weather and if it is warranted, make sure you take it. Hypothermia is no joke so be light but be prepared.

One final word is packing for your daily exercise. I utilize our local county park for running trails and mountain biking. I have made a practice of packing my clothes the night before, and taking my running shoes or bike with me to work. I have found that if I would stop home before I go to the park,I could get delayed with some chores that I can finish after my workout. Also, it is too easy to come home, sit on the couch and put the tube on and be a slug. If you pack your stuff and take it with you to work, you can change in the car like me or go to the mens or ladies room at the park. I have been known to utilize red lights on the highway to make some quick changes in the car. Not recommended unless you have some skill from years of experience like the 58 year old kid. Sometimes you get burned like when I was stripping out of my ski clothes and into a suit for a funeral when a police car pulled me over. As I scrambled to get a shirt and pants on, the officer politely came to the car and told me to be on my way because he was pulling over the guy behind me. Whew. Close call on the road.

In any event, no matter what trip you take, or what activity you do, give some thought on how to pack and how to pack lightly. There are always washing machines and dryers everywhere. At the very least there are sinks and drying racks. So why load up with anything more than the essentials like foul weather gear. Take a tip from Steve. He has traveled everywhere and never had an issue packing light. Thanks for reading.

October 24, 2013 by patmccloskey

The Happiest Guy in the Whole World

John E. Reynolds- born August 8, 1899. Heads used to turn when nurses at the doctors office asked my grandfather his date of birth. Not many people had met someone who was still living a vibrant life and had been born at the turn of the 20th century. I spent a lot of time with my grandpap and the picture you see above is of me and my grandpap deep sea fishing off of Oregon Inlet, North Carolina. More on that in a minute.

John E was a character. Apparently in the days of prohibition, my grandpap had a key to every speakeasy in Pittsburgh. He liked a party and no government regulation was going to stop him from making gin in his bathtub upstairs or frequenting the joints that had music playing and liquor flowing. The other picture above is of Richard Dix the famous silent film star. My grandmother was friends with Alice Mills who was a silent film heroine and it was not unusual for Alice to visit Pittsburgh from California and bring other stars with her like Richard Dix. The reason they came was not only to see the Mills family but to get together with John Reynolds at the speakeasies and have a good old party in the middle of prohibition. My grandfather was actually pretty well known in the Hollywood circles and more and more stars came to Pittsburgh. They wanted to take my mother back to Hollywood and get her started as a child star but my grandmother would have no part of that. So Hollywood came to the North Side and had much revelrie with John E. Reynolds. The Feds came to my grandpap’s house one time and asked him if they could look out from his pantry to see the illegal wine making operation happening with the neighbor. Apprently there was some wine trafficking and the Feds wanted to use my grandparent’s house as a lookout. Well obviously when they told John E when they would be back, he immediately called old man Volpe and tipped him off. The day the Feds came back, there was no activity and they gave my grandpap a quizical look. Needless to say, the wine always flowed at 2815 Stayton Street courtesy of Volpe the bootlegger.

Fast forward, I came on the scene right before my grandparents stopped drinking. They had had enough and decided to quit cold turkey. The Abbot Beer Distributor was never the same without my grandpap and his cases of Duquesne Beer. But, all was well and they embarked on a mission to educate their grandson on the weekends. On Friday nights, they would always take me to dinner as a young lad and then we would make a beeline to Wheeling, West Virginia to take in the horse races at Waterford Park. My grandparents were purists. No trotters for them. They liked the flat races and taught me how to read a tip sheet, how to look at the horses and the jockeys, how to wait until the last minute to see the odds before placing a bet. My grandfather always swung for the fences and placed money to win. My grandmother was much more conservative and placed show bets. In her mind she would win if she hit either a winner a second place or a third place. But not John E. He went for the gusto and made me go to the window to place all bets. The people behind the windows got to know me and allowed me to place my grandparents bets even though I was woefully underage. My grandpap smiled and laughed no matter what happened. He just liked to watch them race. They took me to Hollywood in Florida, Pimlico, Churchill Downs, and all the other major tracks on the east coast. We had a ball and my grandpap smiled the whole time.

My grandpap always took me fishing as a young guy and to this day, I still use all of his tackle and rods. His cronies were Bill Marcus(an attorney), and Judge Bill Miller. Both of these gentlemen loved to fish and we went everywhere together. They had quite a racket. My grandfather was a real estate appraiser and bankruptcy referee. When Interstate 279 was going to be built, all the houses in the East Street Valley had to be appraised so that the government could pay people to leave their houses to make way for the new road. The three amigos did all the appraisal and legal work and it was years of work due to the scope of the project. They would work from April to November, take December off for the holidays and then spend the next three months in Florida fishing and playing golf. I would visit and fishing became second nature to me. When I could drive, it got better for the three amigos because they could sleep in the car while I drove to Canada, North Carolina or Florida. Lots of miles logged, lots of Canadian fresh water fishing with little to do for a teenager at night after those guys went to bed at 8:00PM. But at 4:30 AM they were ready to rock. They always let me drive the boat and run the outboard. It got a little dicey when we were in the Everglades and my grandpap thought it was funny to sneak up on an alligator and poke him with the fishing rod. Their mouths would always open in a menacing smile and as a cherubic young lad, I was in shock as my grandfather laughed hysterically. I dinged the propeller a few times in Canada on hidden rocks and almost tipped the skiff in the Everglades due to some jerky operation of the outboard motor, but the kind and patient instructions from the three amigos was always reassuring.

After my grandmother had passed, my grandpap lived alone in their new condo in the north of Pittsburgh. I say new because my grandpap almost burned the house down on the Northside when he had about 3 adapters and 9 plugs in the wall with his new computer and other electrical devices that overloaded the circuits. As the house smoked and the firemen put out the flames, they took it as a sign to move and they bought the condo. My mother would always look out for my grandpap on the Access bus every day, feed him his dinner, and then watch him return on the bus. I helped her by cooking dinner at the condo from time to time and taking John E. out after my run or bike riding. We always laughed about the old days, the fishing, the horse races and life on the Northside. My grandfather always wore a coat and tie as was the custom of the old time Irishmen. In fact, he was the only guy to walk every day down at North Park lake with the coat and tie and hat. He always bought a new car every year and one year when he was 89, he decided to buy a Honda. As a died in the wool Buick guy, this was surely a departure but when he accidentally drove it over the hill and into the woods at my folks house, he climbed out of the Honda and looked at me and said,” Ooh- I guess it is time for the Access bus.” Again we laughed, but deep down we were relieved that he was ok and he was no longer driving. When he turned 90, we sat him in the back of my dad’s vintage Buick convertable with a sign that read, ” John Reynolds is 90 Today”. One smart ass yelled to him ” Are you still getting any John?” And quick as a shot, he hollered back,” Yea- more than you sonny.” We all howled at that one.

The best part about all of this and my wonderful memories of him will always be his persistent smile and good humor. Now I am not a geneticist and I don’t know about traits that are passed down. But I like to think that I am a positive person. I love life and all the interesting, funny and adventurous times that come about in one’s lifetime. I believe my joie de vivre came from my grandpap. My mother always said that I took after him with his humor, his traits, and his quirky way of living. I am definitely a Reynolds and I can say that I am proud of that. Not that there is anything wrong with the McCloskey side of the family, but John E. Reynolds was a great role model and wonderful guy to know and love. Everyone should have a grandpap like I had. Everytime I throw a line in the water and try to land the big one, I think of him. Everytime I watch the Derby and the Preakness, I think about him betting the farm on the big win and my grandmother harrassing him the whole time. Everytime I see a white Buick with black interior( he was color blind), I think of him. The guy was hilarious. I can’t wait to see him again in glory!! Thanks for reading.

October 20, 2013 by patmccloskey

“The Itch”

My friend J.R. Ellis always sets his watch when we mountain bike ride and sees how long it will take until I mention something to the group about skiing. We have some skiers in the group and some not, and J.R is one of the nots. But thats ok because it gives me the chance to talk about my favorite activity, and perhaps evangalize a little bit to try to get some folks to give it a try. But, we laugh about it and sometimes it is not very long at all until I talk about some ski area,some ski experience or my favorite equipment upgrades. The truth be told is that I started to run and ride a bike to stay in shape for skiing. It ended up being my other passion but nothing takes the place of sliding on snow and seeing the beautiful snow covered mountains.

Around this time of year, I get what I call…….”the itch.” The first ski magazines start coming in the mail. The leaves are changing and the days and nights are cooler. I look for that first frost and the first snowflake that usually falls as a birthday gift to me from the heavens. Ever since I have been a young lad and listened for the first ski report by Lars Skylling, it was always a long time between “the itch”and that first turn. People find it funny that even after all these years and the opportunities that I have to ski larger areas out west and in New England during the season, I still love to make those first turns down Wagner Bowl at Seven Springs- our local ski area. When the back side opens up, we are in high gear in Pa. and the winter is on full bore. But until then, the lagtime between the leaves falling, the weather cooling off and those first turns seems endless.

Back in the day, when I used to teach skiing for the Ski Academy at Laurel Mountain here in Pennsylvania as a young guy, we used to practice on a synthetic surface at the local county park. The county covered one of the slopes with a polyethylene rug and small poly beads. When it was wet, it was actually pretty close to real skiing but it was fun to be out there at this time of year with rock skis and your boots skiing on the rug. We were able to make some turns and then climb back up the hill. Most of the time we reviewed the PSIA teaching system which gave us a leg up on the season. As basic as this was, it was still something to look forward to in the fall when you are a fanatic like me. The picture above is of the Snowflex area at Liberty University in Lynchburg, Va. This surface is very similar to the rug we skied on but this place has a lift, rentals, and a ski school that operates all year. Pretty neat for the Liberty students, and a reminder to me when we visited down there this summer of all the fun that we had at Boyce Park many years ago. One of the things we learned at Boyce was to wear long pants and long sleeves no matter how hot it was. This is one of the rules of the Snowflex Center at Liberty. If you fell, the carpet burn can be pretty severe so you are better off being protected. Nonetheless, the risk of carpet rash was no match for the fun and good times of starting the season on the synthetic surface.

Another fun analgesic activity for the “itch” was grass skiing. If you look at the other picture above, you will see the tank tread like devices that are attached to the ski bindings and ski boots. As fun as the carpet was, this was actually a bigger thrill because you were making a series of teeny tiny turns by moving your feet and redirecting yourself towards the next turn down a grass slope that was a regular ski slope in the winter. Imagine using hundreds of tiny steps with both feet in order to redirect the tank treads in the direction that you want to go. You plant your pole like regular skiing and then you start making hundreds of small directional steps. Often you were successful as you became more skilled and many times you went ass over tincups when you hit a rock or a grass pile in the middle of the slope. I had two pair of these contraptions and always talked a friend into trying. At the end of the day, elbows and knees were skinned and bleeding but the fun outlasted any pain that we incurred. Many a summer picnic had grass ski runs and the ultimate experience was a race that was held at Ski Liberty near Gettysburg which I attended. They ran the chair lift down there in the summer and the fall, and grass skiing was a regular event at the area. However on race day, they had a regular Giant Slalom course set up on the slope and the start house had a large metal tray filled with soapy water to lubricate the tank treads. It only lasted one run but boy did it make a difference in speed. I had to get used to the speed but once I did, the little steps actually evolved into turns by redirecting the treads at a higher rate of speed. For a rookie, I did ok in the race and had a decent finish but there were a lot of crashes and burns on that fall day at Liberty. I would say that by finishing my runs in one piece, I was more successful than most of the crowd. Sometimes a smooth safe run works. And that was the case in this event at Liberty.

I still get that “itch” and read everything I can to get ready for the season. I try to stay in shape with cycling and trail running so that the first turns of the season feel pretty good and I am not too sore at the end of the day. But,unlike the west where they are skiing right now at Arapahoe and Loveland in Colorado, I have to wait a bit. The Boyce carpet is long gone and so are the grass skis. But as I try on my boots on that first snow flurry day, and take off the thick coat of wax that has protected my skis all summer, that doggone “itch” is starting to really get annoying. It is supposed to snow flurry here in Pa. this week which is a teaser because it is not even Halloween yet. But if I keep scratching that itch with the reading, looking at the pictures of my buddy Eric get those first turns at Mammoth, looking at the ski reports, talking about skiing on the mountain bike rides and setting records on J.R.’s watch, I can hopefully make it to December. Or maybe if I catch a weather break…….Thanksgiving. Think snow all you skiers and thanks for reading.

October 17, 2013 by patmccloskey

The Lifechanger

Several posts ago, I wrote about people who are mentors. There are also folks who fall into a slightly different category and they are what I call Lifechangers. I was at a birthday party last night for one of them and his name is Hot Harry Kirsch. Harry turns 90 this week and it has been my distinct pleasure to know him. Mary Jo Neff got up last night after organizing the affair and eloquently told the assmebled crowd how much Harry has influenced all of our lives by starting and running the Hot Harry’s North Park Runners. There are people like Harry who influence us and in many ways facilitate a life change.

I first met Harry when I started running at North Park during the running boom of the 80s. I had quit tennis and was looking for a change when I saw a group run by the tennis court and I said to myself that I was going to start running. I became passionate about it and ventured into the Stone Field parking lot and one of the first guys I met was Hot Harry. He was very friendly and introduced me to some folks and invited me to have a drink out of some jugs from his open trunk. I soon found out that Harry always left his trunk open to his car and anyone who ran from Stone Field was welcome to a drink from Harry’s stash. Harry also told me about his loosely organized club and soon I was wearing the shorts and singlet in the races indicating that I was a member of Hot Harry’s North Park Runners. I was actually very proud to wear that garb and be part of the whole North Park running scene.

Harry organized a bus to go to the Marine Corps Marathon every year. He was fond of the marathon because he was a Marine.He always organized picnics at his farm in Evans City,Pa and soon the group swelled to very large proportions including family and friends of the North Park Runners. Harry has an infectious positive atttude and a smile for everyone who comes his way. There have been a lot of folks who have come to the park in a similar fashion as me and have sheepishly tried to start to walk, run, or jog to make a change in their lives. You get to the point sometimes in your life when you realize that your health and mental well being are more important than any job. Everyone has stress in their lives and exercise is a great antidote to those daily pressures which can consume our lives. Harry made sure that everyone who was new had someone to run with and if no one was available, he ran with them himself. Harry loves the park and as a retired bus driver whose wife had passed away, the park was a good way for him to reconnect with people and soon his running prowess and enthusiasm for the sport got him a lot of notoriety in the local papers. I believe that Harry has 50+ marathons to his credit including countless Boston and Marine Corps Marathons.

I had the pleasure of running in Boston with Harry and his group and was amazed at how well Harry knew the drill up there with the accomodations, the food, the travel arrangements, the expo, and all with only a small duffel bag containing a spare set of running shorts, another singlet, and a toothbrush. Harry traveled light. He loved the marathon up there and took me under his wing as a rookie and I will never forget his wisdom, humor and friendship. Four of us crashed in one room and Harry snored like a chainsaw, but we didn’t care. We were having too much fun. No hot water in the hotel after the race,the elevator was down, but Harry and his sense of humor had us all laughing through an uncomfortable end to a great run.

Harry and the North Park crew changed my life for sure. Even though I eventually gravitated to road cycling and mountain biking, I still run on trails in the winter and on nasty weather days. Running is still in my veins thanks to Harry and the wonderful people of North Park. They say that you get an endorphin high from running but I am not sure if it is more the chemical high or the psychological high that you have completed a healthy activity for the day and you did it with friends. The comraderie of the running crowd cannot be matched. I see folks from all over the country running in groups. The exercise and the lively conversations are indigenous to running clubs and if you have not had the chance to join a running, cycling, skiing, hiking, outdoors club, go do it. Chances are you will meet fun folks who will hold you accountable to join them on a daily or several times a week basis. You will be fortunate if you ever meet a guy like Hot Harry. He is one in a million and if you ever see the car with the open trunk, help yourself and allow yourself to meet one of the all time greats. Thanks for reading.

October 13, 2013 by patmccloskey

To Say Hi or not to say Hi- that is the question!!

Most people who read my blog are fairly active and either walk, hike, ride a bike, ski, or are thinking about perhaps doing something active. Nothing hard core. Just doing or thinking about being active and getting out there. One of the social aspects of the active life is the simple act of being friendly or acknowledging someone who is out there doing the same thing as you. Perhaps you have noticed particularly friendly people who always say “Hi” on their way to you and past you. Others who choose not to do so and are engrossed in their own world of Podcasts, music or just plain unfriendly. Maybe they are concentrating on a family issue, school, or thinking about something in particular. It takes all kinds and they are out there on the roads,trails, and slopes. Lets look at a few of them:

The Walker- some walkers come by you and greet you perhaps because they recognize you as one who walks regularly. Others just are friendly and smile and say”Hi.” They make you feel good and if you see enough of these folks, the walks go well and you have a general sense of well being. Others have the earbuds on, look straight ahead, ignore your greeting and are intently listening to their Podcast or the latest on NPR. Maybe they are having personal problems and are walking for some solace. In either case, does it take that much to just say…………Hi?

The Runner- these folks are usually a little more intense and have the same issues with the earbuds and the Podcasts or music. Or perhaps they are either really fit and concentrating on their heartrate and their minutes per mile. They concentrate and use this time as training for some event or for personal fitness. Some runners look like they are in some state of pain. It takes everything they have to run at their pace and the contorted looks on their face say to you in an unstated way,” Hey- I am just trying to get through this run and it would take too much energy to acknowledge you.” Others just say, “Screw it, I am not talking to anyone.”

The Cyclist- casual cyclists tend to be more friendly than the serious road set. Now I am not putting down the serious rider because I ride the road bike myself and in my day, did my fair share of training on the road. But why does it seem sometimes that road riders either ignore you or when they are with a group, they look over like they want to chew your face off? You know the kind. The individual with the club jersey and shorts, or the wannabe Euro Dog with the expensive team kit who vicariously lives through his clothes and bike and pretends to be a Tour De France contender. “How dare you say hello to me, you road cretin with your touring bike and no team kit.” These guys make a specific note of not saying hello or waving because they are too cool for school. I laugh at these guys because I have seen them too many times before. What is wrong with a smile or a slight nod of the head to acknowledge your presence as a rider? Tsk Tsk.

The Skier on the Chairlift- they guy who looks down and doesn’t talk for the whole ride. The wannabe racer who is too cool to talk. The snowboarder who thinks skiers are dorks and again is too cool to say hello on the chair. The good looking girl who definitely does not want to talk because she thinks it is inviting a hit on her. Let me tell you the days of hitting are over for most guys my age. We just want a hello and acknowledgement on what a beautiful day it is or how great the conditions are. Not…………” ski here often?”

The Mountain Biker- strong roadies turned mountain bikers or racers tend to blow by you and not even say hello. But for the most part, the mountain bike tribe is friendly and has a much better attitude than the chew your face off group. Riding in the woods is serene, and these folks tend to be like the hikers who also are quite friendly. Must be something about being in the woods, not racing, and enjoying nature at its finest. Hikers are dog walkers and they all tend to be friendly. I have really never met a mountain biker or a hiker who doesn’t say hi. Only the jaded racers who train on the trail and can’t wait to blow by the hairbags in front of them.

If you look at my two videos up top, you will see both scenarios. See how you feel when watching them. Now I live in Catholic guilt- ridden hell because that is my background. I say hello to everyone and always did. Even in races I was careful to announce my presence if I was passing or I kept it friendly with the group I was riding with. Not because I was not competitive, but I knew my place. I was not going to the Olympics and running, skiing, cycling on the road or in the woods is a social event as much as it is a training or racing event. You will never get a nasty look, or an ignored salutation from me. I believe we are all in the same boat. Enjoying the exercise, the environment, and the camaraderie of being together enjoying the same activity together. So the next time you are out, make a mental note to see who and what types say hello and greet you and who are the jagoffs who ignore you. The people who need solace get a pass but the others, lighten up and say………”Hi.” Thanks for reading

October 10, 2013 by patmccloskey

Trail Running- Peace in the Woods

“https://chroniclesofmccloskey.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/02jaydash-inarticle.jpg”> 02jaydash.inarticle So, I am out on Monday early with my headlamp, rain jacket, shorts and new trail shoes (
Solomon XA Pro 3D Ultra 2), and rain hat. It is pouring and I am kind of a slow starter when I run, so I like to warm up which is good advice for those of you like the 58 year old kid. I am watching out for slippery rock and leaf strewn areas along with wet roots which can play havoc with your stride in the woods and make for a potential header on the trail. As I mosey along, I am feeling better as a half hour passes and the stride becomes a little stronger and the pace a little faster and as is the usual case, I feel pretty good and loose after about 40 minutes. But I don’t usually run much longer than that-maybe an hour at best but it is one of the most relaxing and enjoyable workouts I do in the off season. This time of year, the days grow short and most often you need a light. You can get these on line or pick up a Petzl light at Dick’s or REI. They are easily found and are battery operated so have some double A’s in your glovebox. Good shoes are essential and the Solomons can be found for a pretty good price at Amazon. Foul weather gear is good and there are lots of choices for running jackets because you don’t need more than a polypropylene long sleeve running shirt, decent waterproof jacket with a hood, wool hat or baseball cap, and good wool socks. I wear shorts most of the time because I don’t like to be over dressed even in snowy conditions. A lot of guys my age complain about running on hard surfaces. That is the nice thing about running trails, they are more forgiving but you need to pay attention to obstacles.

I always ran, but was looking for an alternative to cycling in the really foul weather because I like to be outside. Years ago, I ran into Jack McArdle on the trails one night while we were cross country skiing in the dark with our lights on. He told me about his group that meets weeknights and on Saturday mornings to run trails. Now Jack knows most of the trails in our local North Park by heart and as the Pied Piper of trail running, he assembled a neat group of folks from all walks of life to follow him on the trail runs. The school teachers who tended to be a little left of center had great conversations with the business types who tended to be a little right of center and we all had a lot of laughs and solved the world’s problems out on those trails. When someone complained about the route, Jack would assign a “penalty hill” and we all would moan but laugh as we suffered up some mud encrusted slime hill for our penance. Those days have faded but there is still a trail group out there with some of the original members still running and doing the penalty hills.

As for me, I try to ride most of the year with my lights on the mountain bike. But there is the time of the year when the trails get so slimy and icy, the weather gets so foul that it is really not enjoyable to ride. That is where the run really amps up the possibilities for me. The great thing about running trails is that you can do it anywhere. When I travel, and I can’t ride my bike, I take my trail shoes, Google the local trail system and go out and do it! I can also find golf courses. I have utilized the Manassas Battlefield trails as well as the Yale University Golf Course. It has to be early there or at night because I have been bounced off that venue more times than not. But usually you can run golf courses in the off hours and there are always trails or a trail system in every town and city in America. Runnning on the road is tough on the knees anymore and the viable alternative is running golf courses or trails. This time of year with the leaves changing and the weather cooling off, it is a great alternative to cycling if you feel like doing some cross training or another physical activity.

Running trails is also kind of primal in a way. We have running in our DNA as our early ancestors ran to hunt food, or ran so as not to be food. I think of the Native American warriors in the woods in Pa. where I run. I can envision their lifestyle of hunting and gathering while running paths that are hundreds of years in the making. It is neat to smell a fireplace burning, see the changing leaves, or run in a light snow with the muffled sounds of civilization fading with each inch of snow on the ground. Trail shoes have lugs and are good in the snow and ice. They can be used with snowshoes in the winter to continue to enjoy the trails even when several inches of snow builds up. No cars, good scenery, peaceful contemplative running, even at night. I never complain about the time change, colder weather( I am a skier you know), freezing rain, rain, darkness, solitude in the winter because I know that the recipie for a potential depressing day is to go out and run when and where most people would not venture. Those of you who are looking to avoid the road running and fearing the wear and tear as well as the danger of running on a road at night- look to the trails. Those of you who are looking for an alternative to the boring regime of the gym and some fresh air as an alternative- look to the trails. You don’t have to start with running either. Buy the gear and start out slow by hiking or walking. Build up to the run. Rome was not built in a day and neither should you feel the pressure of trying to run when you can build up to it by hiking and getting used to being on trails out in the woods. Test your footing and become comfortable with the obstacles and working out at night with the lights. Trust me, you will like it and anytime the weather turns bad, you won’t have an excuse. Even if the weather is good, look for the alternative. You probably won’t get a penalty hill unless you run into Jack and Mare out in North Park. Thanks for reading and go to the trails my friend.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: