Tag Archives: Outdoor Sports

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I was a Crash Test Dummy ( and lived to tell the tale)

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

IMG-20130111-00083IIHS_crash_test_dummy_in_Hyundai_Tucsonalpine-slideDSC_0314_350_420Alpine slide - Wikipedia, the free encyclopediaIngrid_Hirschhofer_Grass_Skiing_World_Championships_2009_Grass_skis There has been a lot of talk about global warming lately and the ski areas are concerned about shorter ski seasons and the revenue concerns that are a result of this weather phenomena. A lot of areas have been promoting summer activities like golf, conventions, hiking, lift served mountain biking, bike parks and other ways of bringing the public to the mountains in the summer to boost bottom lines at resorts.

Back in the day, my buddy Mike Smith, who I have referenced in this blog as my ski buddy from Lake George, NY, was the mountain manager at Seven Springs Resort in Pennsylvania’s Laurel Highlands. Mike was instrumental in designing and installing one of the first Alpine Slides in the country and Anni Dupre Santry and I were his crash test dummies during the installation. The slide basically was a concrete slide which made its way down the mountain and the rider would utilize a cart with wheels and a brake lever for speed control. By leaning left or right, one could ride the slide and control the cart at a speed that was dictated by the bravado and the skill of the rider. During installation, Mike would ask Anni and I to try different sections and see how fast we could go without flipping out of the concrete track. Based on our success or failure, he would adjust the bends and reduce the amount of straightaways. Anni and I ended up with some amazing crash rash on our elbows, thighs and various other body parts due to this experimentation and Mike would laugh hysterically at our failures which resulted in some colossal crashes on the adjacent ski slope. ” You better put a bend in there Mike”, I would yell out as I tended to my wounds while riding the chairlift up the mountain for another run at it. Mike would make an adjustment and tell Anni and I to go for it again with “no brakes”. Like the dummies that we were, we would comply and either make it or fly out of the track rolling in the grass down the hill with another failed attempt. Mike would put another bend in the track until we all could ride it successfully at high speed. I was never sure whether this type of testing was in the installation manual but it worked for Mike, and Anni and I had a blast doing it weathering the bleeding, scrapes, and blunt force trauma of it all.

Another form of summer carnage was the sport of grass skiing. These tank treads which had ski bindings mounted to them were an accident waiting to happen at picnics, and other weekend afternoons on grassy ski slopes. I had some of the first ones and many a friend at a picnic nearly killed themselves trying to maneuver these grass skis by physically making baby steps in the direction of the turn. Even with ski poles, the turns were not pretty and if you hit a rock or a stump, you went flying into the pucker brush with crash rash galore. You could get your bell rung real well with grass skiing. At Ski Liberty in Pennsylvania, they even had giant slalom courses set up in the summer for grass skiing and at the top of the mountain was a large pan of soapy water to lube the grass skis for your attempt at the course. As the competitiveness of summer skiers heated up, the crashes were spectacular with many an ending in the local clinic tending to rashes and broken wrists and arms. I was fortunate enough to only secure cuts and bruises but the thrill of downhill skiing in the summer was intoxicating enough to bring us back for more and more at our local areas and parks as well as the mountain resorts. The grass skis were eventually given to some poor unsuspecting younger friend as I got older and wiser, but I sure got good use out of those ungodly machines of destruction.

Mountain bike crashes, road bike crashes in criteriums and road races and behind leaky garbage trucks have come and gone. In the winter, there have been many an edge caught with a resulting crash of spectacular form. But nothing like the raw egg beaters of working the Alpine Slide or racing on the grass skis. As I get older, some of those old egg beaters have begun to take their toll in stiffness upon waking. But I always look back and laugh at the bravado and the sheer insanity of utilizing the slide and the grass skis. No wonder I got clots and have to take a blood thinner. When you have no respect for your body and hurl yourself into the abyss, things happen and they aren’t always pretty. But you have to have some fun in your life right? Nowadays, I take it a little easier. Not sure about Anni. Thanks for reading.

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Culture Creates Commerce

McCandless-20130303-00102photoOTB at the North Park BoathouseOTB at the North Park BoathouseOTB at the North Park BoathouseOTB at the North Park Boathouse I started riding mountain bikes in our local county park in 1987. At that time,we were outlaws because the county police were not familiar with mountain bike riding especially at night with lights. We were not welcomed by the equestrian or hiking community and basically had to forge our own way in the world with a lot of ill will on the part of the other trail users. If you take the time to look at my post from June 23rd of 2013, you will see that life and times have changed a lot for our local park and the perception of mountain bikes has been radically altered. In order to carve out your place, the culture has to be changed not only in the park but also with associated organizations like county government. Fortunately we have a sympathetic ear now in that the former County Executive was a mountain biker and the current Parks and Recreation Director rides and enjoys other outdoor activities that have spawned in our local North Park.

But this culture change would not have happened if it had not been for organizations like PTAG( Pittsburgh Trails Advocacy Group) http://www.ptagtrails.org This hard working organization driven by folks like Bill Kirk( above left in picture with three guys) and Dr. Jamie Pfaeffle ( middle guy), Dave Brunger, Mike Connors and a host of others who faithfully built, and maintained new trails and met with the county to propose their vision and execute their plans. We now have 42 miles of trails that are enjoyed by many due to the hard work of PTAG. PORC( Pittsburgh Off Road Cyclists) http://www.porcmtbclub.org is a club that supports local rides which utilize trails like North Park. Bob Bannon is the tireless organizer(seen above in the white chin warmer) and has created a weekly ride schedule that makes it possible for riders and new riders to get together. Momentum has been building in the Pittsburgh area when it comes to off road riding and this growing culture of people have also been inspired by Dirt Rag Magazine http://www.dirtragmag.com founded in Saxonburg,Pa by Maurice and Elaine Tierney 25 years ago. Dirt Rag has grown to international status and a lot of the folks associated with the magazine ride in North Park on thursday evenings as part of a weekly organized ride. As the synergy between these groups has meshed over the last several years, the amount of riders in our park system has risen exponentially each year. Where you would only see a rider every once in a while, you now see groups of riders in the park at all times. This synergy has also created a culture of commerce in that the county is anxious to privatize many of the attractions in the park like the zip line venue, a potential bike shop and running store, and current sandwich shop at the golf course. But perhaps the biggest attraction that has added to the culture of riding in the park has been a project developed by Mike Kotyk, Marty Maloney, Robin Maggs and Dirt Rag circulation guru and professional photographer Jon Pratt. http://www.jonpratt.com The Over the Bars Cafe http://www.otbbicyclecafe.com built in the old boathouse is an absolute home run and I will tell you why.

For years, I have often wondered why no one developed the abandoned boat house in the park. It is a classic building with a great view of North Park lake. OTB began as a cafe on the southside of the City of Pittsburgh and it helped drive the city cycling scene as a haven for recreational cyclists, messengers and racers. It was one of the first venues to put in bicycle racks as parking spaces and their success in the city inspired the owners to invest in the North Park location. After a lot of discussion and multiple meetings with county government, the lease was finalized and Mike, Marty, Robin and Jon had attained permission to develop their dream of a restaurant in a county park that would create a culture to further develop cycling and commerce. There was a lot of sweat equity put into the construction and remodeling of an old boat house but if you see it today, it is the gem of North Park with a great bar, comfortable seating, and outdoor tables with beautiful umbrellas and a fire pit that complement the wonderful view of North Park Lake. The menu is casual dining from breakfast through dinner and the weekly featured micro brews attract not only the active crowd in the park but the general public as well because currently the OTB is the hot place to be on a week night or a weekend. When one travels to the parking lot( and the expanded lot due to popularity), you see bike racks on vans, four wheel drives, and all types of vehicles because after a great ride on the roads or trails of North Park, the OTB is now the standard post ride meeting place for the active crowd. The thursday night ride that I referred to earlier is actually called the OTB Ride and it is organized by PTAG member Billy Kirk and his pal Dr. J( Jamie Pfaeffle). In fact North Park now has a freeride trail that one rides at his or her own risk. It is called the Dr. J Trail in deference to its creator who is a spearheading force in PTAG.

It is interesting to see how so many organizations, inspired riders, friends of the park, restaurants, cafes, bike shops, magazines have all come together to create this culture of riding and communing at such a wonderful local county facility. This culture not only creates the commerce that was envisioned by the Allegheny County Parks and Recreation, but it also has developed over a number of years with momentum as these organizations, businesses, and people come together for a common cause. The created energy here is really something to recognize and it should be an example to local communities across the country who wish to develop similar venues and cultures in their recreational parks and public places. This atmosphere has come a long way since I had to turn out my light and hope that the police would leave and let us ride the trails. Now the county police are really supportive and in fact there is a new mountain bike patrol around the lake where the county police ride bicycles to enforce the law. Who would have ever imagined? Personally I am really proud of our park and the culture that has been created. When I roll into that parking lot at Stone Field or the Boathouse, I have a smile on my face because I know that I am part of a culture that has been developed over many years that promotes healthy activities, commerce, and gathering places for all of us Type A individuals to tell stories and laugh and enjoy life. Thanks for reading and if you ever get to Pittsburgh, go to the OTB Cafe on the Southside or in North Park. You will quickly recognize that you are part of something really special.

Photos courtesy of Jon Pratt Photography and Bauer Photography.

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The Reluctant Angler

downsized_0715091352 I told my wife Janet that this year I was not going to bring my fishing rods and tackle to the beach because I have not had much luck fishing at the South Jersey shore in recent years. I don’t have the patience that my friend Dean Denmead has who is an experienced fisherman and has learned to wait for the catch. Most years I buy at least four different types of bait from old man Moran at Moran’s Dockside in Avalon and when I ask him why I am not catching anything, he always says that this is not a good time of the year to catch fish. So why sell me the bait? I guess a sucker is born every minute. I brought the rods and tackle again this year. I should have known that the same luck would happen when ten minutes into our first beach day, a seagull zeroed in on me at 60 MPH and launched a fecal torpedo at me which blew through the mesh in my hat, splattered my hair, my shirt and dislodged itself on my beach chair. Bad omen for the trip and a definite “Welcome to New Jersey” from the real fishermen- the gulls.

I have had more successful outings with my grandfather and his buddies in my early years who were all real good anglers. I drove them to Oregon Inlet in North Carolina, fished with them in the Everglades, and at a fishing camp several times in northern Canada above North Bay. There is nothing like being with experienced fishermen and eating a fresh fish dinner on the shores of a crystal clear lake or landing a state record snub nosed dolphin in the Carolinas. The alligators floating in the canals in Florida provided adventure for the young guy and the veterans. I still use my grandfather’s tackle and rods and although I have been marginally successful expecially when I have taken my son Jack, I am sure that he has a smile on his face in that great fishing hole in the sky.

A couple of years ago, I took matters a little more seriously and went on line to find a fishing service in South Carolina off the coast of Hilton Head. I found a site by Captain Dave Fleming http://www.mightymako.com When we booked the morning and arrived at the dock, Dave told me that the fishing was really not that good. Imagine that? But, he added, if we wanted to catch shark, we could do that. I jumped at the chance and my wife and son reluctantly boarded the Mighty Mako with wide eyed wonder as to how this was going to go. Dave used mackerel heads and instantly Janet’s line tugged ferociously as she hooked a shark and Captain Dave helped her bring it ot the side of the boat. Janet was not at all thrilled at the prospect of touching the sand shark and Dave brought it up for her to see and then cut it loose. The next snap of the line was Jack’s and the same protocol was observed by bringing the beast in view and then cutting it loose. My grandfather spoke in my ear when my line snapped and he wanted me to land it myself. After all those years with Judge Miller, Bill Marcus and George Beran, and my grandpap, I better net and land the shark myself. Dave sensed that I had some experience and let me net the small shark and instructed me to grab it firmly by the back of the head and he would take a picture. I had never held a shark before and was amazed at the sandpaper feel of sharkskin. After the picture, I cut it loose and we continued to land shark after shark until a bull shark snapped Janet’s steel leader and Dave smiled and said, ” That was one we would not have wanted to be in the vicinity of the boat.” As I gazed off into the sound, I remarked to my son that we were only about 800 yards from where he and I were sitting on a sandbar the previous day. Little did we know that we were surrounded by sharks curiously looking at us from the depths of the sound. Needless to say, my fifteen year old at the time never went back in the water.

An interesting sidebar to fishing is that you can have the opportunity to have some good family time and conversations that will be remembered for a lifetime. Even when I fish with my friend Dean, we laugh about our time at the beach and the friendship of dropping a line in the water to see what happens is intoxicating. Captain Dave told us aboard the Mighty Mako that he was born and raised in the Hilton Head area and that his father is a successful attorney. His siblings were all successful stockbrokers and professional people working in New York and he was the only “black sheep” of the family who chose fishing as a career. He was a little sheepish in his description of himself and his very tightly wound family, but I assured him that in my mind, he was the smart one. People come to a beautiful place and pay him money to take them fishing. He makes a living at what he loves and lives in Paradise. The stressful lives that most people live trying to take that one vacation to where he lives all the time is a testament to Dave’s good judgement. Personally I believe he is the most successful one in his family. What really is important in life? I may not be the most successful fisherman in the world, but the quiet time on the water either by myself or with my family is worth its weight in gold. I need to be more patient. I need to get better at being a fisherman and the sport will teach me what Dave already knows. Slow down and enjoy what life has to offer. Whether you catch a fish or not. Wish me luck. Probably buying some more bait from old man Moran tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

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Greenlees Mountain Bikes

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

NiteRider2photophotophotophotophoto There is a statistic floating around out there that claims that 90 percent of all mountain bikes sold are never taken off road. Consider what percentage are utilized on rocky, rooty, muddy, eastern trails coupled with doing it at night with lights and you have a small percentage of bicycles and riders. Back in the 90s, I had the good fortune of becoming associated with a group of individuals that took the sport of mountain biking very seriously and became almost legendary in their victories in local mountain bike races in West Virginia and Pennsylvania. Their use of these off road machines put the manufacturers to the test every time they had a training ride and some of the best riders and racers at the time belonged to a group started by Chuck Greenlee of Prospect Pa.

Chuck had a small shop and prided himself on carrying the best equipment that could be tested on the rocks of the terminal moraine. The frame to have at the time was either a Merlin titanium or a Yeti and Chuck quickly assembled a group of individuals who supported his shop and ultimately made up his race team. Jonathan Moran, Ricky Haas, Eric Sauereisen, Bob Anderson, E.J Sigety, Steve Wahlenmeyer,Frankie Ross, and Bill Alcorn were all incredibly good riders and the balance of the group were in the older category as veterans which included Chuck, Mike Reidinger, Tim Sweeney and yours truly – truly bringing up the rear. Diane Blackburn was our lone woman rider who could ride most guys into the ground. I first got to respect Diane when she gave me a real ration of grief for getting lost on a Month of Mud course. She was in our group at the time and I ziggged instead of zagged and heard it from Diane for weeks. Jonathan and the boys rode the Pro Expert Division and their rides and routes taught me a lot about riding on the rocks. Of course, I was not able to keep up with this group but they all were kind enough to spend the time to teach me the finer points of riding in this treacherous terrain. Often there were several groups riding at Moraine State Park in those days that were associated with Chuck’s team and the fast guys were able to do their thing with the slower guys bringing up the rear and learning all along the way. I had many over the bars experiences much to the amusement of the “A” team but being part of that team of folks was not only an education, but immersing into a culture of ride or be left behind. ” What doesn’t kill you makes you strong” was certainly on display on those rides and the fruits of the work displayed itself in the podium finishes for the Expert Group. Our Vet group held our own and oftentimes won our divisions in races like the 24 Hours of Canaan( see May 15th, 2013 post). The NORBA Nationals, 24 Hour races, Hidden Valley Fat Tire Fallouts and Stampedes, Month of Mud races, WVMBA Series races, all had podium representation by the Greenlee crew in all age divisions. Even our older guys like Tim, Chuck and Mike were always competitive overall as well as winning in the Vet and Master division. Like a blind squirrel who finds an acorn once in a while, I even had some good finishes at the time that showed me that with a little hard work and keeping momentum on rocks and roots, even a schlubb like me can be successful. I was happy to be a Greenlee Mountain Bike Team member.

Besides the victories, the better part of being associated with Greenlee’s Mountain Bikes was the culture created by Chuck and also the team itself. E.J and his wife Sharon would always welcome us back to their home for cookouts after rides and races. Steve’s girlfriend Julie ( now his wife) would always get her parent’s motor home to be the base of support at the races and her immediate family was always welcoming with a great place to rest and have something to eat. The mechanics from the local shops would all set up outside the RV and if there were any issues at the races, it was a communal repair pit for anyone who needed it.

I loved traveling to the events in West Virginia with Chuck and perhaps some of the more harrowing rides in the country were with Chuck trying to catch Sam Dyke and the “Parrot Man” with his super suspended van on the back roads of the Monongahela National Forest. We made it to Davis, Slaty Fork, and other locations in record time. Chuck was always a pedal to the metal guy not only in his riding but in his driving. But the best part of hanging with Chuck was that if we needed anything by way of equipment, parts, etc, Chuck was always there at all times to provide and would work on broken bikes well into the night. When you are passionate about something, it becomes part of your life. You are not just someone who rides a bicycle, you are a mountain biker. It becomes part of your persona. It seems like a long time ago, but a lot of the skills and more importantly friendships have lasted to this day and my passion for riding a mountain bike was first fueled by a fun loving crew from the wilds of Butler County.

These days, my old Merlin hangs from a hook in my garage. If that bike could talk, it would certainly tell some great stories. There are many groups and teams like the old Greenlee’s Team and they all have several things in common- passion for a sport, camaraderie ,laughs, accountability, and great memories that last a lifetime. Unfortunately, Chuck is no longer with us.  He was taken a couple of years ago with heart failure and he is sorely missed.   Cherish your friends.  Thanks for reading.  

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The Culture of Bumper Stickers

photophotophotophotophotophotophoto Previously, I wrote about T-Shirts. Check it out in my archive section- you will laugh. I outlined the “Americana” of T-Shirts and the rules and codes that apply to this iconic piece of American clothing. Today, I would like to poke some fun at another mainstay of “Americana” – the bumper sticker. There are many reasons that folks these days plaster their vehicles with stickers so lets look at them categorically shall we?

The Political Activist- these are the people who proudly display their stickers on their bumpers or windows telling the world who they voted for or for whom that they did vote. I still see Obama 2008 “Change” stickers on vehicles. Hey? We get it. You voted for the winner, maybe twice, and your old Volvo reflects your political agenda and we respect that.

The Folks for a Cause- we all tend to see the same types of cars( old Volvos, vans, Euro-Vans, classic sports cars) adorned with those stickers promoting a cause. “Buy Locally” – nothing wrong with sustainability and if you are going to plaster something on your car, this is ok. Some tend to be a little out there but neat on the cool factor- ” Free Tibet”. Now it would be nice to see the Dalai Lama make a return and perhaps the Chinese government would be ousted, but it probably won’t happen. But this guy is glad that you know that he is in touch with international issues as he chugs down the road advocating a cause and wanting you to buy organically raised chickens from his granola crunching uncle’s farm.

The Vacationers- these are the proud folks who want you to know that they have visited or visit regularly the Keys or Hilton Head. Like the rules of the T-shirt, the farther away from home that the destination sticker reads, the cooler. You don’t want to waste good vehicle space with a local vacation spot, you want the world to know that you have made the effort to visit someplace exotic or expensive. These vacationers are careful with their placement of the sticker. They want that nice round beach sticker or the well recognized Harbor Towne( with an e) Lighthouse strategically placed on their left rear window of their expensive SUV.

The Athlete- this guy wants you to know that he has completed a marathon with a subtle round sticker that reads 26.2 K. Or the new guy or gal that has just completed his or her first half with the sticker that reads- 13.1. The Ultra guys and gals have that 50K sticker or the well placed Ironman Finisher sticker on their SUV with the bike rack and canoe rack visible at all times-even in the winter. There is the cyclist who plasters every sticker he can find on his roof rack front panel. These folks put every swag sticker from every cycling manufacturer on that front panel along with their favorite radio station sticker placed alongside of their “Dog’s Breath Ale” marker prominently placed front and center. Fill in stickers are placed on the panel as the years go on but they tend to be smaller and more insignificant and just a space filler. Bottom line- they are proud of their accomplishments and when they park in that church lot, they want the other parkers to silently admire them with a nod of approval that says, “wow- he did the Ironman!!!” With a smile, the athlete swaggers into church sitting like a proud Pharasee knowing that his accomplishments are out there through the iconic sticker.

The Skier- this guy always has an SUV with the roof caddy that houses his equipment safely to the slopes. The caddy has every ski area that has been visited on display carefully placing the resort that is farthest away in plain view. Maybe he has heli-skied and has the coveted CMH or Mike Wiegle sticker in view? Maybe he is affiliated with the National Ski Patrol or the Professional Ski Instructors of America? He or she want to display that so that their dedication is appreciated. Maybe that is part of their rap in the parking lot as they say,” ski here often?”

The Shameless Self promoter- the clown who displays his blog site on his bumper fishing for followers for his blog riddled with drivel?

How about the dog lovers? Look at the example above of the person who loves his Italian Greyhound. Does the dog bark with an accent? Maybe he cooks a mean pasta? Not sure, but the owner wants us to know that they appreciate the ethnicity of their canine friend. How about ” My dog is smarter than your honor student?” Really?

Finally- lets talk about putting stickers on at all shall we? There are lots of people who value their vehicles because they make a statement about how they have arrived. They buy or lease an expensive vehicle and would never think of lowering their pride to put a sticker on their car- reducing the perceived financial worth. How crass to place a bumper sticker on a car. “Wow- Muffy- we need another wax on the Beemer dear!!!” Then there are guys like me. I am all of the above except a dog person. Dogs like me- I taste like chicken. I don’t have any dog stickers on my Jeep. But I do have ski area stickers, publication stickers, blog stickers, in short- I have always been a sticker guy. I may age chronologically but I will never mature. If there is a space on the rear window or the bumper, I will use it. I have a rust spot rearing its ugly self and it may be covered with a micro brew sticker shortly. I have stickers in waiting to replace old or faded ones. You see, I am the kind of guy who loads mulch up to the roof in my Jeep. I put firewood up to the roof in my Jeep. My wife says that I kill our vehicles but I see them as a means to an end. I have no problem plastering stickers on my vehicle. So when you me driving down the road, smile when you see the rust and the advertisements. The Jeep might look different the next time and I will for sure be wearing a T-Shirt from a far away destination to keep with the rules. Wear a cool T-shirt and plaster something funky on your car- will ya? Thanks for reading.

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Life changes- new opportunities!

photophotophotophotophotophoto The 59 year old kid is always up for new opportunities especially when life changes a little bit. Our one and only is headed off to Ohio Universiy in the fall and things will change around the McCloskey household a bit when he makes the move. However, instead of being melancholy as we will miss him, we will be excited about the new opportunity for him at a great school with a great course of study in the business program. But instead of looking like the typical sap in the “Ohio U Father” T-shirt with wing tip shoes, plaid shorts and a straw hat and camera, I want to be able to enjoy some of the ammenities that Athens, Ohio has in store for my wife Janet and me. If you reference my previous post about “Cycling in the Buckeye” from 9/26/2013, you will notice that there are a lot of excellent road and mountain bike adventures to be had in the state to our west.

One of the things I wanted to do during the orientation program at Ohio U was to see what kind of cycling opportunities there were in the Athens area. It is an intertesting location in Ohio in that it is more like West Virginia than the typical Ohio flatland. There are rolling hills as it is on the northern tip of the southern Appalachian chain. I called Athens Bicycle http://www.athensbicycle.com and spoke to Peter Kotses who guided me to several options in the area. For one, there is a 17 mile bike path that connects Athens to Nelsonville,Ohio that is quite an enjoyable ride along the Hocking River. It is also a gateway to Sells Park which is the local City of Athens park. The Athens Bicycle Club has done a masterful job of cutting and marking singletrack mountain bike trails in the park and thanks to an access from the Dale and Jackie Riddle State Nature Preserve, this park now connects to the trails in Strouds Run State Park whose trails were also created by the Athens Bicycle club over the past several years. There is a lot of riding out there and as I made my way through Sells Park on the Rockhouse Trail and onto the Finger Rock Trail, I had covered a lot of ground and had to get back for the orientation program. Looking at the map which you can download from the Athens Bicycle website, you will be able to see that there are miles of trails that eventually end up at the bottom end of the beautiful Dow Lake. I did a big favor that morning on my 5:30 AM ride when I personally cleared all the cobwebs on the single track with my face so that the riders who would follow me later in the day would have a clear riding path through some pretty dense forested trails. These trails will be a wonderful riding experience for me in the next four years of visiting my son in Athens.

My wife Janet is not one to sit around either and as we utilized the bike path, we noticed that Rt. 50 was an excellent road cycling venue which extends all the way into West Virginia and on through Maryland. In fact, the Race Across America(RAAM) was making its way through Athens and we saw all of the male and female leaders of the race at various times of the day and night riding through on their 3,000 mile journey across the country. I stopped to talk to a British group who were riding in the team competition. I asked them if they knew my friend Danny Chew who won the event twice and they were not familiar with him. Time marches on and the million mile man Danny was not known to the up and comers of RAAM. In any event, road cycling is also a viable opportunity in the Athens area.

Janet and I are hoping that our enthusiasm for new things will extend to our son Jack who seemingly likes the school and the wide open world that awaits him with the college experience. I have encouraged him to seek out opportunities at the school that he might not be familiar with and potentially enjoy activities that he never dreamed would interest him. Ohio U and Athens is a real outdoor activity center and I have encouraged Jack to take advantage of the great outdoors as well as getting involved in school organizations,clubs, and intramural sports. Life is his oyster now and we know that he will hopefully take full advantage of these great opportunities. One thing is for sure, Janet and I will be looking forward to our newfound recreational playground when we visit Jack and we will also take advantage of the many post ride watering holes and restaurants which line the main drag of Athens. Yes, we will miss Jack on a regular basis around our house but as long as he is happy and enjoying his new experience, we will get used to this new life as empty nesters. But we will not sit around and feel sorry for ourselves. We have a lot of life to live and one of the great new opportunities will be visiting our son in a wonderful place that we have only begun to discover. OU? Oh yea!! Thanks for reading.

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” The Coach”

photophotophotophotophoto I was passing the soccer fields the other day and daydreamed back to the days when Eden Christian Academy was looking for coaches for the youth soccer program. My son Jack was involved and I volunteered because they were desperate for bodies. I didn’t know a thing about soccer but at that age, if I could get some kind of organization among the kids, get them some exercise, and keep them from just huddling around a moving ball, I was ahead of the game. We organized practices and the games were usually Saturday morning which was always an anticipated time around our house. Jack was a big kid for his age and he was able to handle the ball and score goals at will. It was co-ed soccer, so sometimes the smaller female players ran into Jack and became somewhat of a pinball as they bounced off him and onto the ground with tears ensuing. But all was well until he grew a little older and my usefullness as a coach was outlived. He became part of the school program and youth soccer was in the rear view mirror. My last season as coach, I had them line up in a wall when the other team had the ball and when our team got possession, I told them to shoot it no matter where they were. “You can’t score if you don’t shoot. Pretend Bin Laden is in the goal.” That didn’t go well with the academy faculty and it was time for me to move on and let the school coaches take over.

Baseball was another experience. My friend Dave Blahnik called me and asked if Jack was interested in playing baseball. Would I be interested in coaching with him? Dave wanted to know if I had any experience with baseball because he knew I was kind of an outdoors guy. I told him proudly that I played minor league, little league, and pony league all as a catcher. I was a little chunky as a youngster and it was good for me to put on the “tools of ignorance” as my dad would say and get behind the plate where all the action was. So, I had experience being knocked into the chain link fences by the bigger kids trying to steal home, getting foul tips in the face, throwing kids out at second base, and being the receiver of some pretty fast adolescent pitches. So there I was coaching third base as the games for the McCandless Athletic Association began. I had this habit of waving runners through third base only to be thrown out at home. Dave would look at me with dismay and ask why I would ever wave them on when there was no chance that they would be safe? I said, ” Dave- the fun is to see if maybe they could make it and the thrill on their faces was worth the chance that maybe, just maybe, they would score a run.” In most instances, they were thrown out and I was surely the turnip to the parents in the stands. But, I loved the moment of wildly waving them on with my smiling face and their smiling face as they raced for home only to be defeated at the tag at home plate. Dave replaced me at third and I ended up at first base where I did the same thing with the kids trying to steal second base. Thrown out again and again, my timing was off in my coaching and Dave finally said for me to be the dugout manager and make sure the kids got their turn at bat. An inauspicious ending to my baseball coaching career but nonetheless rewarding.

Chuck Noll, the Super Bowl winning coach for the Pittsburgh Steelers, had many famous quotes, but the one that struck home to me was when he referred to the process of the game. He said that,” the thrill isn’t the winning, its the doing.” This was my mantra for youth sports. I wanted the kids to have fun. I was not really interested in the score as much as the process of learning the fundamentals of the game, improving from week to week, and having some success in the process. The kids would have plenty of chances to be competitive in the years to come as was the case with my Jack. But at the youth level, I made it known that although I had limited experience in team sports, I had a passion to work with the kids and make sure that they had fun- first and foremost.

Right before my mom passed away, I was talking to her about coaching baseball and she asked me,” What do you know about baseball? Did you ever play?” It dawned on me that she never saw me play because she only had interest in watching my swimming meets as a kid because she was at the pool anyhow. Baseball games were not her gig and when I showed her my old pictures, she was amazed. The field was right across the street from where I lived but mom never made the trek to see her fat little Patrick behind the plate. We all had a good laugh but those days honed my interest in coaching at the youth level. As the kids got older, I was out of my league and faded to the stands as a spectator. But the memories of the smiling faces, the lessons learned, and the skill improvement, will always bring a smile to my face. ” What was the score,Pat?” ” I don’t know, I am just the coach.” Thanks for reading.

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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.