Category: Ohio Adventures 2011

From Mesopotamia to Peninsula – Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, July 2011 and July 2013

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During my Ohio adventures of 2011 and 2013 I did some rides on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath in and around Akron. I’ll present them stitched together as one ride, starting south of the city and heading north to Peninsula, and written as a guide rather than an account of my experiences.

The official guidebook for the canal towpath called the area to the south of Akron “Mesopotamia” because it’s between bodies of water. But it’s also fairly barren, with no services until the Portage Lakes area. The scenery along the canal is pretty but the towpath itself is exposed, so don’t expect shade.

The trail becomes paved as you enter Akron, rubber capital of the world and crystal meth capital of Ohio. When the towpath trail reaches Summit Lake, tribute is paid to the canal builders. Faced with a swampy body of water to cross, the canal built a wooden, floating towpath for the mules. So the present day trail crosses the lake surrounded by water. Its an impressive view, and there are observation areas along the floating trail. I spent several minutes here one afternoon soaking in the scenery.

The trail rises from the river as it enters downtown Akron. At the time I rode it the north and south sections of the towpath hadn’t been connected. I understand the missing link is now in place. In 2011 I had to got up some nosebleed climbs onto city streets. The detour wasn’t well marked. I got lost a couple of times, but I eventually found the towpath again. The trail is an urban park as it passes through the downtown, and at times the detour used sidewalks.

The name Akron comes from the Greek words meaning “high place”, which explains the trail bridge leading out of the downtown and down a 5 per cent grade for a mile. The reason for the 5 per cent grade is the steep ascent the canal had to make. You get an idea of what the canal builders faced just north of the downtown in the area called “Cascade Locks.” The canal needed 15 locks in little more than a mile to get boats up and down from Summit Lake. Once past this area, you are back on gravel and amid nature, following the Cuyahoga.

On my 2011 trip I hung out a few minutes at the small park at the bottom of the 5 per cent grade. This park celebrates the flour and oat mills that Akron was famous for in the 19th century.

Heading north, the trail follows the river. The scenery is wooded, aside from a brief stretch snaking through a suburb of Akron.  I tried to see things off the towpath as well, for the trail has a lot of connecting paths, for walking and riding, that are worth taking. There’s a small heron nesting site a few hundred feet off the trail at Bath Road. One trip I rode partway up the mile climb to the Hale Farm, a 19th century ‘living museum.’ The climb was too much, so I turned around and stopped at Indigo Lake for a couple of minutes.

A highlight on the trail is the beaver marsh. The mammals helped reclaim an old auto dumping area, and the towpath, like at Summit Lake, floats over the marsh. There’s a observation area with seating, and on various trips I’ve seen turtles, fish, heron, and yes, a beaver. On a future trip I’d love to get here at dawn, simply to experience the place at daybreak.

If you feel thirsty or hungry as you approach Peninsula, there is a nice farmer’s market that provides fluid and fuel on a hot day. Its only a block from the trail, but be careful, as its busy with cars and bikes coming in and out of the lot.

Riverview Road is flat for much of its length, and it makes a nice change of pace from the towpath if you’ve done the trail more than once. Drivers seemed to respect bikes even though the shoulders are narrow. Just past the farmer’s market is a road leading to the Everett Covered Bridge. The short trail bans bikes, but I didn’t realize it. I dismounted when I saw the horses and no trouble was caused. Anyway, its a short walk from the connecting road.

Turning around here on Riverview Road might be a good idea. While its rideable into Peninsula, the climbs are tough. Better to take the flat and scenic towpath, passing by, and sometimes through, canal locks. Soon enough you are in Peninsula. Take some time to see the small town, the locks, the river, the train, Century Cycles, and the main eatery in town, the Winking Lizard.


Mention of the Winking Lizard reminds me of my rides with my friend Aaron. We explored the towpath together, riding from Akron to Cleveland in segments, and our rides always ended with a trip to the Lizard. Those were among the happiest days I’ve spent on a bike. Aaron also rode with me on the brutal day to Mosquito Lake State Park, and he was coughing up blood the next morning. If our friendship can survive that, I think it can survive anything.

When I was very down after my knee replacement, my weight was ballooning and my activity level was at zero. When other ‘friends’ were abandoning me, Aaron told me “I believe in you” and stuck with me. So my memories of the towpath are always happy ones, knowing that my buddy was there…. and was there for me when I needed him. I hope everyone who reads this blog has such a friend.

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Night Ride from Peninsula – Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, July 2011

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My visit to Ohio in 2011 was capped by a night ride. Century Cycles in Peninsula, on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, runs a monthly night ride during the summer months. The towpath trail in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park is open 24 hours a day, unlike most bike trails and paths, and Century Cycles makes the most of the opportunity. Friday July 8 was hot and sunny, and the night promised to be clear. 
My host Peter dropped me off north of Arkon, and I rode the 20 miles into Peninsula, sweating in the warm afternoon. I reached Peninsula an hour before the start, and I spent the time riding back and forth, up and down the towpath and in town. After a brief dinner, I joined the crowd forming in front of Century Cycles.
The ride leader took us north eight miles to the Station Road bridge, . Photography was difficult due to the lighting conditions, but a couple of photos are worth sharing. The trail winds along the Cuyahoga and canal, passing under the beautiful Route 82 bridge. Riders didn’t need lights for the outbound trip, but dark fell hard, and the towpath was alight with headlamps on bikes and trikes on the way back. A rider saw me busy with my camera and offered to take my photo. Looking back on it, I remember feeling sore but happy, and regretting my trip back to Pennsylvania the following morning. I loved the night ride, and I hope to do one again.

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Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, Canal Fulton, June 2011

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Following the abandonment of my 2011 bike tour across Ohio and Pennsylvania, I stayed with my friend Peter near Akron and did day rides. The first was on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, north of the town of Clinton. And the ride set the tone of the rest of my vacation – warm, sunny weather, good trail conditions, and something to see every mile.

And that started in the first mile. The O and E towpath trail, unlike others I’ve ridden, has been reconstructed and planned for the visitor, not for a canal horse. In other words, there are overlooks and plantings and boardwalks and many other signs of thought for the cyclist, hiker, and walker. The trail surface varied from pavement to fine gravel to something a bit coarser, but overall the conditions were very groomed.

I passed through the historic town of Clinton, where I purchased fluid and took photos. I was particularly struck by the drive-through store selling beer and other drinks. I’ve never seen a drive through store in PA, and especially not one selling alcoholic beverages. (Pennsylvania has very strict and odd rules about the selling of beer and other drinks. But that’s a discussion for another time….)

Then I rode down the gravel path to Canal Fulton. I rushed to make the last ride of the day for the canal boat, and just made it. The visitors center held my bike for me while I spent an hour going up and down the canal four miles round trip. It was a warm day, and I felt sorry for Dan and Prince, the ‘motor’ of the boat. I hope they both got hosed down and some nice oats afterward.

The towpath surface became rougher as I went on. The rains this spring caused some washouts, and the trail surface had a messy ‘patch’ job. After riding further down the towpath I crossed the river and road and took the parallel Old Muskingum Trail into Crystal Springs hoping for better conditions. My new choice wasn’t much better than the old as far as the surface went. However, it was more dirt and less gravel, and the dry weather left the ground hard and smooth.

I crossed the river back to the towpath on the High Bridge in Crystal Springs. This historic span is closed to motor vehicles, but remains open for access to the Old Muskingum Trail.  A week later I’d be floating a canoe under it.

I stopped at seventeen miles and more than 100 photos for the day, at Bridgeport Quarry trailhead.

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Getting RAAM’d – Bike and Hike Trail, Akron, Ohio, June 2011

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After making a last minute decision to take up my friend Peter’s offer to host me in Akron, OH, following my abandoned cross-Ohio and PA tour, I decided to set up day rides during my stay. On learning Bike Forums poster Homeybe was passing through Ohio on his way back to California, I contacted him and set up a time to go riding. Since he had a road bike, I searched for a suitable route. However, I was handicapped by my lack of knowledge of good roads in the area. Finally I selected Akron’s Bike And Hike Trail, one of the oldest rail-to-trails project in the state.

Homeybe arrived about 2 PM and we were at the trailhead about 2:30. Or so we thought. It turns out we stopped short of the entrance to the bike trail. So we headed a mile or so down the road to the next park. After circling it, we couldn’t find the trailhead. So after checking at the entrance we’d discovered we were still a little short. Another mile down Ohio Route 91 and we climbed onto the trail.

“Climbed” is the right word. Most rail trails have a flat or near flat grade. The Bike and Hike has rollers like I’ve seen on PA roads, but never on a trail. I learned the name “Akron” is derived from the Greek words meaning “high place.” The rail-trail designer had to have majored in Greek and excessive literalness. I had a hard time keeping up a conversation with my co-rider. After one climb I had to pull over. “I have to catch my breath” I huffed and puffed.

“It’s over there waiting for you” said Homeybe.

We resumed and coped with the trail, which uses a combination of rolling bike paths and city streets. I pushed myself pretty hard to keep up with Homeybe, who is an ultracyclist and veteran of RAAM and the Furnace Creek 508. It wasn’t only to stick with him, however. I’ve too often been described as someone who ‘tools around with a camera’ on rides, and I wanted to give my all to show people, including myself, what I was capable of.
At one point we stopped and talked about my physical condition. I was probably too apologetic about my weight, my back, my knees – I enjoyed my friend’s company, but I felt embarrassed to be riding with someone of his abilities. I don’t aspire to race, but I do want the stamina and ability one finds in an athlete. I know what I don’t have, and I work around it to make my goals. But I still know what I don’t have.

My friend assured me that HE was working when riding, that he wasn’t in prime riding condition at the moment, and he was enjoying the day. At one point he told me “there’s only one great cyclist out here today, and I’m riding with him.” I quickly scanned the trail before I realized he was talking about me.

And the ride resumed. Roller after roller. Finally we turned south on the homebound section of the loop. As we passed along a major Akron to Cleveland highway, Homeybe said “it looks like that’s the last of the rollers.”

We then crested it and saw more of them. I stopped and swore. But I got on again.

I was running low on water, and at one point I pulled over and sat down for a few minutes. I’d almost crested one more hill, but didn’t quite make it. After ten minutes we pushed on. Five minutes later I began to have dry heaves. The coughing made me dizzy and hurt my back. I stopped and dismounted unsteadily as Homeyba held my bike. I sprawled on a lawn, helmet off, rolling over on my side. The homeowner came out and brought me a pop – what in PA we call soda – as I tried to get myself together. The pop and some more water down, fifteen minutes later I was up and riding the final four miles or so back to the car. It helped there were only two serious rollers on the route. The final mile and a half back to the car I wound up walking near half of, since my legs were spent and I was still feeling ill. Homeybe took care of putting my bike on the rack while I sat in the car cooling off. 

It was a mixed bag of a ride. The route gave both of us more of a workout than we expected. I’ll never say Ohio is flat again. I’m disappointed I failed to avoid bonking – since I do bike touring I should be able to recognize the symptoms before I redline. Yet, I still think I did OK. I may not be able to ride like a RAAM participant, or climb like Contador, but like them I’m able to give everything I have to the job. Now that I have straight legs and knees that function normally the task before me is to have more to give….

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Canoe and Bike, Massillon, Ohio, July 2011

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On my trip to Ohio in 2011 I finally did something I’ve wanted to do for years: I paddled a canoe. With the help and hire of Ernie’s Bike Shop and Canoe Rental I went solo six miles down the Tuscarawas River north of Massillon. My arms felt spent the next day, but the effort was worth it.

The Tuscarawas is a gentle river, about 4 feet deep this time of year. Still, I was so nervous at the idea of canoeing that I was wearing the PFD in the van taking me to the put in spot. After five minutes instruction from the driver, I was afloat. Here I’m approaching the pedestrian and bike bridge in Crystal Springs.

I had only one difficult spot during the trip, and its shown in the photo.  I was warned that due to the river level being so low and my weight that I could get caught up on rocks. Success went to my head as I’d managed to avoid getting hung up. I was so intent on navigating the ripples ahead I missed the overhanging tree to the right. I lost my baseball cap, and almost lost my glasses. Oh well. A small price to pay. And despite running into the branches of the tree trying to avoid the shallow water, I still got stuck. However, I turned the boat around and let the current pull me free, rather than try to get out of the canoe.

At the start and end of the trip I needed assistance. Getting into a canoe wasn’t too bad, but getting out provided to be a small challenge. Fortunately the shop had someone there to help me, and I was standing on the bank soon enough. I hope to repeat my journey on the water during my Ohio vacation next week.

After getting out of the canoe and changing into riding gear I rode the Ohio and Erie Canal towpath trail for about ten miles or so. Here’s the nice part, before the mess that is Massillon.

A couple of miles past here the trail deteriorates to detours, broken glass, and youths throwing firecrackers on the path. Turn around and head back north!

I considered riding the connecting Sippo Valley Trail. But there’s not much of a connection at the moment. A bridge on the trail was burnt down by arsonists a few years ago and never fixed. I decided one set of detours was enough and returned to finding the towpath. When I found it, I also found rougher trail conditions. While navigable, it was a bumpy ride.

My travels for the day ended at a small trail park south of Messillon, err, Massillon. The highlight is a sculpture of Ohio native and American hero John Glenn. There was still light, and the towpath continued south, but I’d had a full, exciting afternoon, and I was so euphoric I felt I was in orbit.

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Holmes County Trail, Holmes County, Ohio, June 2011

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On a drizzling Saturday morning my friend Dan and I set off on the Holmes County Trail, heading out from the trailhead in Fredericksburg. We pulled up to a parking lot next to a baseball diamond, and watched as the grounds crew used leaf blowers to try to dry the grass for the game. “Buckeyes love sports” I thought as I set up my bike.

The trail is paved for about 15.5 miles, largely flat, and double wide. The reason for the double width is that Holmes County is to Ohio what Lancaster County is to Pennsylvania – it’s the Amish region. The trail is used by horse-drawn buggies, and we saw several of them during the ride. And local business, Amish or “English”, often have a connecting path to allow buggies through. We followed one such short side trip to Wal-mart and noted the special buggy parking shed. Glad I’m not working for that store. I’d hate to have to retrieve carts from there!

The trail continues through farm country and a couple of small towns. It ends at the edge of Killbuck, but the road into town is low traffic and flat enough you can continue your trip easily. We did just that, since we were both hungry. The only place open was a pizza shop, which made meatball subs that had Dan raving and had a mural of Ohio State coach Woody Hayes that reminded me how much Buckeyes love sports.

When we came out, the clouds had parted and we rode back in sunlight. We stopped again at the train station/bike shop/museum in Millersburg, the midpoint of the trail. On the outbound leg we’d stopped and ridden into the historic downtown. Or rather Dan rode into the downtown. I spent much of the time walking, since Millersburg is located on a hillside and I couldn’t climb. I have to say in my own defense that I’d ridden a fast ride the day before and bonked hard, so I was probably still suffering. Fortunately the slower pace of this ride didn’t tax my strength.

We finished with 33 miles, covering the entire trail, a short ride uphill to Millersburg, and the ride into Killbuck for lunch. And I finished with the desire to come back and ride this trail again.

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Ride to Hartville Market, Hartville Ohio, July 4, 2011

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After my first day riding 46 miles as part of my abandoned cross Pennsylvania tour, I’d kept my road riding in Ohio to a minimum. Part of it was that I didn’t like the roads, part of it was that my host didn’t think bikes belong on roads, and part of it was that with all the trails nearby I didn’t need road riding. But I wanted to do at least one trip from my hosts’ door and back, and so July 4 I set out on a short ride of ten miles to the Hartville Market, one of the largest indoor farmers and flea markets in Ohio.

Since I didn’t know what I’d find there, I brought the trailer too. This caused a problem when I didn’t find any bike racks at the market building. So I decided my bike and trailer were my shopping cart, and I took them inside.

Maneuvering was a little tight but I made it work. Bike, trailer, and rider walked up and down every aisle, and later visited the food court. One of the vendors gave me an American flag, which I flew on the back of the trailer.

 I picked up a few items, unfortunately most of them being food a fat cyclist should stay away from. One item I regretted not having the cash or room for was the Pepsi trike. This machine has a built in cooler!  I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it, and I’m still not sure, but it was a curious looking machine.

In retrospect, I wish I had gone on to historic downtown Hartville, but my host had company coming and I wanted to be back to meet him. Oh well, I’ll have to save it for my next bike adventure in Ohio….

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Bike and Swim, Bike and Hike Trail, Akron, July 2011

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I spent two weeks riding in Ohio in June and July 2011. With my time amid the Buckeyes coming to an end, I wanted to revisit the Bike and Hike Trail. I’d ridden it the week before with an online friend who had raced RAAM, gone into the redzone when I pushed myself to try to keep things interesting for him, and had dry heaves on someone’s lawn. I don’t like being pwnd, and I wanted to see the part of the trail I hadn’t ridden. So off I went from one of the trailheads on the north of the trail, headed over the bridge towards Peninsula.

After a roller-coaster descent I was on a mildly rolling trail. The most scenic portion of the entire ride was the railroad cut known as the Boston Ledges. I’m fond of railroad cuts, and the Boston Ledges were impressive. I sat on the bench on both the outbound and return trip to enjoy the shade and quiet. 



After several road crossings there’s a mile long on road section of the trail that was a complete mess when I rode it, featuring a steep descent and climb from a bridge.  I understand MetroParks Serving Summit County has since constructed a pedestrian and cycling bridge parallel to the road and trail on either side. I went through the mess and got back on the trail to face this for miles and miles…..Flat as a pancake, under the power towers. The surrounding views were pretty, but I was roasting in the heat on the exposed trail. Finally the Bike and Hike Trail ended at the juncture with a park path called the All Purpose Trail, five rolling miles leading to the Tinker’s Creek Gorge overlook and a waterfall. I stopped for lunch at a table at the shaded trailhead. Once fueled and watered, I started on the All Purpose Trail.  I rode partway, decided I didn’t give a tinker’s damn about Tinker’s Creek, and went back. 

I continued south past my starting point, down the section I’d had the problems the week before. After this set of rollers along the highway, I stopped at a TGIFriday’s for dinner. Fortunately it had an entrance on the trail. I propped my bike on the fence and downed three strawberry lemonade slushes while waiting for my order…… so much for any calorie burn on the ride.

Fueled, I continued on. My destination was Munro Falls MetroPark, about a mile from the trailhead in that area for the Bike and Hike Trail. I knew the parked closed at 8 PM, and I wanted to go for a swim. I pushed myself through the late afternoon heat. I arrived at 7, changed into my swimsuit at 7:05, and jumped in the lake. What a refreshing end for 38 miles of riding in 90 degree weather. The water was warm, but so what? It was wet. 

Soon after the park closed my host arrived to pick me up. I felt I’d partly redeemed myself for the ride on the trail a week before. I hadn’t tried to be a RAAM racer, only myself. And I’m pretty good at being that. 


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True Grit: My Attempt to Ride Across Pennsylvania, June 2011

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The year 2011 started bad and got worse. My long-standing knee problems had deteriorated to the point I was seeking an alternative, any alternative, to replacement. I was sedentary again, unable to ride or hike. And what’s more, I was unable to see a light at the end of my troubles. After entering a course of physical therapy and being told I was “wasting my time and money, see a surgeon now” I decided on a course of action. I was going to see the surgeon and set up the probable bilateral knee replacement for the winter, and my summer and fall would be spent being as active as I could physically stand. The physical therapist called it “strengthening”, noting that a fit, active person recovers better from the surgery. I called it mental therapy, because I’d go mad spending a summer sitting around waiting for the trip to the operating room. 
I spoke with one of my doctors about my plans. “Activity is a good idea, but in moderation.”
“Hmm. Moderation. I don’t know what that word means, doctor”, I said. 
“What did you do last weekend?”
“I hiked up a mountain at a place called Pole Steeple.”
“That’s almost as bad as you spending a day grouting a tile floor! What am I going to do with you?”
“Look, I know most people who have knee replacement did it so they could walk up stairs without pain. For me this is about more than climbing stairs.”
But I kept my doctor’s word “moderation” in mind. My early rides were short. And when it came time to plan my vacation, I kept the cycling plans moderate. 
I decided to ride across Pennsylvania. Well, not the whole state. Just most of it. Doing the whole Commonwealth would be a bit excessive. But to make up for the short gap between the Delaware River and my home I chose to begin in Ohio. 
My Buckeye buddy Aaron signed on to ride with me to the border. This would be his first bike tour, and so I planned two days, with camping at Mosquito Creek State Park in Ohio and Pymatuning in the Quaker State.  From Pymatuning I’d continue solo across the northern part of the state, turning south on the flattest route possible in my hilly home. The sole concession to my physical condition was that I’d keep mileages short and stay inside where I could. 
Months of planning were put in motion a sunny morning outside of Akron. Aaron and I were off. The photo shows my buddy pulling out of his driveway. However, we didn’t get very far. I thought my tires still had enough wear in the for the trip. But I was wrong, and in the second mile from the start I got a flat on the rear. Aaron rode off to the local bike shop while I sat on the curb.
Once I had a working tire again, we headed off. At this point we realized our directions weren’t the best route I’d ever plotted. And it would have helped if I’d not left them back in Pennsylvania. But soon enough we figured out where we were going. 
And then the second revelation. Ohio has hills. Or perhaps I should call them rises. But anyway the state has them. And I found myself have to work harder than I anticipated on some roads. 
We found a respite on a rail trail from Stowe to Kent. Or we did for a minute until the heavens opened. We ducked under a trail shelter to wait out the passing rain. And the rain did pass. But it left a messy, ponded trail for our riding. 
This was the first band of rain. The second held off until we reached Kent, the end of the trail. This time we ducked into a market, propping our bikes at the ice machine while we waited inside. 
The second band came and went, and so did we. Directions didn’t improve, and we had to reroute a couple of times. Aaron’s GPS didn’t get a very good signal, and it was a while until we found a sure path to Mosquito Creek. Meanwhile I realized how spoiled I am riding in Pennsylvania, where motorists are used to seeing cyclists on roads, and the roads have shoulders. We both had uncomfortable moments and close calls. Aaron is one of those folks who rarely has a bad day, so his good cheer helped me endure a rough first day of touring. 
And then the rains came again. And again. Band after band, and sometimes the rain was hard. Our progress was painfully slow. At one point we ducked onto the porch of a warehouse, and Aaron had to urinate. We both looked at each other, laughed that a little more water wouldn’t hurt anything, and I turned my head as I walked a few feet away. Then it was back to the bikes and seeing the road through raindrops. 
The ride was catching up to us. I stopped counting bands of rain when I reached eleven. Aaron had to stop and walk up one rise. “I have to catch my breath” he said, and I should have caught his reason. Finally by seven PM we’d ridden 40 some miles, and had less than five to the park. We stopped for food and water at the first store we’d seen in hours. For all the rain, we didn’t have fluids in our bottles. Aaron appeared a broken shell of a man, sprawled on the step guzzling water and shoving pastry down his throat.  We pushed on, although I found the going a little difficult. My saddle seemed to be getting higher. I figured it was just fatigue playing tricks on me, and we continued on. 
We reached the campsite, set up our tents as the light faded, and I started the camp stove.  Aaron was looking very defeated, and I figured something hot and salty would help his mood and prevent cramps. He grimaced when I served him my tuna and noodle mixture, but he ate his plate clean. And since the rain began again, he didn’t need to wash it. 

The tent sites at Mosquito Creek are small, and our site was partly flooded. I gave Aaron the pine needle area and chose to camp on the concrete parking slab. I crawled into my tent, listening to the patter on the roof and thinking of the day past and the day to come. I wondered what I’d dragged my friend into. And when the first cramp hit me, I wondered why I’d dragged myself into it. I was soon enough distracted by the coughing coming from Aaron’s tent, and it was to the cough and the rain that I fell to sleep. 
I rose early the next morning. The rain had stopped. After I got back from the bathroom I found Aaron sitting on the picnic bench.  He didn’t look good.
“How was your night?”
“I was coughing all night. I’m coughing up blood. My wife is coming to pick me up.”
After assuring me that he’d be OK, we talked about the day before. Aaron was disappointed to not continue on with me. Meanwhile I realized I could have killed him. He’d pushed on past all his danger signs so he could ride with me and so he could consider himself a bike tourist. 
As we waited for his better half, we talked about the tour. 
“Look, buddy, bike touring can be riding your bike somewhere and camping. You’ve earned the title. And you worked harder for it than many. You rode through all that rain, over those roads, nearly got killed by that truck -“
“The black one?”
“Was there a black one? I meant the delivery truck going up that hill at the intersection.”
“Oh, that one.”
“Anyway, you did great.”
“Yeah, and I’ve not seen so much water since I left the Navy.”
Aaron’s wife arrived, they packed up, wished me well, and then headed to an emergency room to be checked out. I began to break camp, only to notice I couldn’t straighten up. I tried to mount my bike, and I couldn’t reach the pedals. It seems that odd sensation that my saddle was raised was a warning sign. My hamstrings were overstretched during the ride, had contracted overnight, and now were pulling my lower back out of shape. I called my next stop, my friend Troy, and he picked me up that afternoon. I spent two days recovering at Troy’s farm while I pondered my next move. I eventually returned to Ohio, and shelved my trans-PA ride for another year. 
Was I wrong to have attempted such a ride in the shape I was? I don’t think so. I needed something to get me through the time before surgery, and I’d not be who I am if I didn’t push myself hard. I had discomfort, but I tried. This isn’t about being able to walk up stairs. As I told Aaron, a thousand men wouldn’t have even attempted to do what we did knowing we had bad joints and bad lungs. As for Aaron, he fully recovered, and a week later we were turning out 40 mile rides. We had good weather, but after what we went through nothing could rain on our parade. 

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