It was the second rest day of the Tour and I was on my way home from work when I passed him going up fifth street. We had started the morning together, but I had to get to work after the second lap. I was proud of myself, 30lbs of messenger bag on my back and I just climbed on past, asking how far along he was. He grunted “nine” and I offered up some lame encouragement like “you can do it” or “just keep pedaling” or something. He mumbled about wanting a cigarette. My mind was already back at SMC though- could I make it to the shop in time for the last lap? I crested the hill and sped down, hoping I would catch the rest of the crew that had dropped him quite some time back.

I rolled into SMC where Beth took one look at me and without even asking, she told me I missed them. Crap. Oh well, I went inside, peeled off my sweat-heavy clothes and changed into something more casual. I felt a little awkward sitting there not knowing what to say to anyone. I fumbled around looking for something to eat or drink when Bowman said he was going to pace Army Jay for his tenth lap. That sounded good to me for some reason, so I went back in to put my now cold and sweaty cycling clothes back on. I chatted a bit with A-ron…the kid had just come back from racing MTB nationals and was now doing 2-5-10??!?! Wow..his legs definitely have more in them than mine, but then again no one ever questioned that. Now then, where was Army Jay?

5 minutes. 10 minutes. Ok, about 25 minutes passed and most of the other folks were off for some poolside beer, but Bowman and I were steadfast- he was just about to finish nine but he needed ten. Finally he rolled in. Jay is one of those people that is both hard to miss and hard to forget. His bike is a Surly Long-Haul Trucker built with whatever parts he could afford and cobble together at the time, complete with a rear rack (which often sports an ammo box) red bar tape, and flat pedals. He needs flat pedals because he rides in army boots. And MTB shorts. And a faded blue-and-orange SMC jersey that carries the aroma of many, many miles. His dirty blonde hair is pulled into a tangled pony-tail, and his spotty facial hair frames his upper lip and jaw like the grass of an abandoned city lot after they have bulldozed a condemned building. Bowman begins his pep-talk to get Jay back on his bike and Jay lights a cigarette and sits on the apartment steps between Armettas and SMC. Bowman runs back into the shop and emerges with a Coke and some gels to sugar Jay up, and once he finishes his cigarette Jay agrees to ride the final lap of the 2-5-10 century.

We roll up second street- Bowman starts to pour ice water on Jay immediately to which Jay asks him to knock it off.  Pedaling up the road, we give him encouragement but are more just acting like rolling traffic cones so Jay can just focus on his own pedaling and not on traffic. Im behind him and even though you can smell the effort he has put in for the day at ten yards it doesn’t matter- he is doing something only 19 other people have done to date. You see, 2-5-10 is 102 miles with almost 15000 feet of climbing. And its his first century, ever. Cresting over the top, Bowman says ‘1/3 done!’ and we begin the descent. Jay descends carefully, and with caution- a good move considering the amount of fatigue he must have been experiencing. Hanging a right towards fifth st, Bowman again cools Jay off. This time he seems more ready for it. We pass the sprinkler set up for the riders and then begin the ascent to the main part of fifth street mountain. Jay picks up some strength from somewhere and the pace actually increases. I follow behind, watching his combat boots go up and down with each pedal stroke, and his rear rack swaying slightly from left to right all of which result in forward motion that only a rider can fully appreciate.

We make the turn onto the fifth street itself, and in the steep hairpin Jay lets out a howl, stands on his pedals and uses every gear-inch his cranks and cogs can give him. The sun is starting to set now and the crest of the hill glows with golden hour. Some sweat drips off Jay and Bowman cools him off again. We descend into town avoiding the potholes marked with white paint and make the final approach on the hardest climb of the day- tenth street.

On the first lap of the day, tenth street was decorated with chalk, much like riders in the tour see on the greatest climbs in cycling. Cheers, encouragements, jaunts, and jokes are splayed across the tree-covered blacktop section that approaches 22%. Jay puts a foot down, breathes a little and comments about wanting another cigarette. Bowman reminds us that there is a bench at the next turn if he needs it. We check the bench out and then pedal on. Mother Mary welcomes us with open arms. A dog barks happily, as if encouraging Jay- and Jay actually thanks him for it as if he understood every yap. One more foot-down rest, and we finish the last push to the top. There are no cheering fans. There is no big cheque. There is simply a pat on the back for Jay, and the promise of some food at the Strickland’s new pool. So with a smile on his face we roll down, grab a slice and a beer, congratulate Jay along with the other finishers of the day and quietly ride back to SMC.

I dont know if I could finish the 2-5-10 century. I didn’t know Jay had that in him. Apparently he knew he did- and it was both humbling and an honor to be there with him on his final lap.  Nice job Army Jay- combat boots and all.

Races were a lot of fun today, but I think the pictures will speak for themselves. Keep an eye out- you might even see some familiar faces!

I ride in a no man’s land. Somewhere faster than most club riders, but far slower than most people who race. Tonight was an amazing display of the former and why I don’t really feel like I belong at club rides much anymore.

I went to meet the regular club ride that leaves from the Velodrome tonight, fully intending to just soft pedal, chill out, and have a good time. I figured I could find my way into the ‘B’ group when it splits off and just have some fun. The website said ride at 5:45, so at 5:40 I was approaching the parking lot when the group went past me in the opposite direction. Lovely. So I park quickly and put my front wheel on, turn on my computer, strap on my helmet and start the sprint to try and catch the group. Nothing like starting my ‘casual’ ride with a full on sprint and no warm up, right? In any case I catch the group in less than one mile and make my way into the middle of the group where I fully intend to hide and just ride along. I see the ride leader up front and he seems to be paying very close attention to a female companion. Ok whatever, but if the ride was advertised as a C ride meaning 12-15mph on flat, or 10-13 over rolling/hilly terrain. I figure the riding around the Velodrome is flat to rolling, so Im figuring 13-14 mph is the expected pace however since the ride leader appears more concerned with his companion than the group so the pace is more like 10-12. Some folks in the back begin to grumble and move toward the front. A tandem chugs along and is having to brake-check more often than the captain seems to want to.  Oh well, were just out here to have some fun, right? Then it happens, the ‘companion's’ chain drops, and she cant get it back on while riding so she stops. Then the ride leader stops. He waves the group on with a ‘keep going’ so we do. Now, the tandem steams along and some of the folks who were getting twitchy  in the back start to pick up the pace. I roll to the front and start to spin my normal cadence. One of the guys moves up along side of me and begins to pick up the pace. I match him. He picks up again. I match him. He stands to sprint. I stay seated and match him up the next hill. At this point I realize I don’t have anything I need to prove so I ease off. Im may never by 'fast' but at least Im stronger than the average club rider. The rest of the twitchy guys start to play amongst themselves and the next hill comes. I stay seated, in my big ring and power up it. We descend towards Bowers park, realizing that the main group is now pretty far behind us, so someone suggests we stop at the park to regroup. The main group comes in, some folks get some water, and we wait for the ride leader. He finally rolls in and thoroughly berates us for riding ahead calling us ’assholes’ and letting us know ‘none of us are ever invited to his rides again because we left a rider behind.’ All this after telling us to keep going. Ok tough guy- when you pander to your lady friend and tell us to keep going, what do you expect us to do? We talk among ourselves a little and everyone confirms that we heard him tell us all to keep going, and even some of the other beginner riders are a bit put off both with the slower than expected pace as well as the behavior of this guy. I guess that’s how it goes sometimes, but as we ride back all I can keep thinking is how I just don’t belong in this kind of group anymore either. I guess I just need to keep getting stronger so I can ride with the Emmaus crew more often.

Sometimes, I wish I had more freedom. Im not complaining because I genuinely do have a good life, but there are rides, races, festivals, events, and overall opportunities that I need to miss because Im a father, husband, and employee first. My life as a cyclist must fit in there however I can manage, and tonight I managed to ride a Rodale lunch ride favorite, Powder Valley Short.

I was hoping for some company but Cody bailed after a hard day of work and Matt had to work until 9 so I was on my own. 

The weather was perfect- about 70 with almost no wind and a golden sun hanging in the sky. Ive never ridden this one, but after visiting the Emmaus Cycling website to get the course, I saw the mass of riders who were able to make the lunch ride today my mind was made up. I loaded the course onto my Garmin 305 and headed out. The ride takes you out over some of the most beautiful roads in the area, over some great climbs, and absolutely ripping twisty downhills. Scenery is filled with ‘old’ PA classic farm country, including barns that still have hex signs (although the olde PA Deutch has been replaced with modern English sayings.)

As I rode I imagined the group around me protecting me from the wind and pulling me up the hills. I pushed down a little harder on the pedals. Up the climbs, down the descents, with the wind blowing through my helmet. I listened to my chain move through the pulleys- I should have put some lube on, there is a small chirp with each revolution of the cranks. The air is warm, warm enough for shorts and short sleeves. I follow the GPS where it tells me to go barely familiar with the roads I am on, so it feels both like exploration as well as a guided tour. The fields are turning green. The trees are blossoming. Some horses graze in a field.

Eventually I end up on a road I know well- I used to commute this way to Philly for my old job. Heading in down the long hill into Vera Cruz, Im on the edge of flying. A driver pulls along side me at the four-way stop in town and shouts ‘I had you at 45mph!’ I smile, click in, wave and pedal off. At the bottom of Vera Cruz road I click into a low gear to spin to my house- my legs are spent from the hours I have put in this week and the feeling of real fatigue sets in. Rolling into my driveway I smile again knowing I have a massage scheduled with Jess on Saturday. Tomorrow will be a rest day but for today, I imagined I was riding with the cool kids.