It’s been about a week since we left the Italian Alps, each of us heading off on our own paths. Before too much time has passed I wanted to look back on the trip and share some last thoughts and memories. I also asked the group if anyone had anything personal they would like to share via this blog, and several did. I am writing this somewhat off the cuff but will try to connect some themes that came out of all our musings.
When I think back on this trip the first thing that comes to mind is friendship. I am thrilled that here, in my 50s, I find myself making new friends — ones I know will one day be old friends.
I’m a fairly social guy, but new friends don’t come around all that often. For one thing, I find that I enjoy spending time with my close old friends and so it’s a challenge to find the time to develop new friendships.
The group that I joined in Italy are all people who I’ve met in the past few years through our shared interest in cycling and also through charitable causes like the PMC. It wasn’t until I started riding the PMC each year that I found that not only I enjoyed cycling, I really liked the people: their energy, kindness, and outlook on life.
When I started riding, I mostly kept to myself, too unsure of my abilities to join group rides. I dabbled with a group called the Charles River Wheelman, but never found kinship. After a few years, I had a couple of riding buddies with whom I would ride once or twice a week. I started to learn how to “paceline” — teams of cyclists riding very closely taking turns up front so they could ride faster than any of them could alone — and something clicked for me. I began to seek a regular group ride. I learned about “Team 5:15” through a couple of friends. That eventually led to me meeting several of the riders on this Italy trip. I began to ride early morning rides with them — something that did not come easily to me. Getting up before 5 am to be on a bike for an hour was completely alien to me two years ago. But I did it, and my cycling became more rewarding. In time, this group became my friends. I am so thankful to be welcomed into this wonderful group of humans.
The morning ride group led to the “Linbux” weekend rides, morning coffees, and eventually movie nights. And that led to me being invited to join the annual climbing trip in Europe. In previous years various permutations of the group had gone to the French Alps, South Africa, the Southwest US, and Blue Ridge Parkway.
I loved getting to know each of my fellow riders better. I will share some of my favorite moments with each of them.
I’ll begin with Steve since, without his invitation, I would not have been on this trip. Steve is one of the organizers of the trips.
I had ridden with Steve many times and I am pretty sure everyone that I’ve ever ridden with knows Steve or at least knows of Steve. He’s been riding the PMC since the early years. I had learned that he was one of the original “Day Zero” riders for the PMC. Day Zero is the unofficial ride on Friday before the official PMC ride begins. The route begins at the NY/MA border and winds ~100 miles to Sturbridge, the original PMC 2-day starting point. Steve is a master route creator and absolutely loves climbing. Steve is also a natural bridge builder, connecting people to each other, networking, welcoming new riders. His sense of humor is legendary and his enthusiasm for cycling is boundless. Rich put it best, “Steve S — really funny and keeps the group together with humor and banter…also his appreciation and connecting with everyone.” Steve is a strong rider but he will also hold back so a slower rider doesn’t ride alone. He sets the tone for riders looking out for fellow riders. I had many laughs with Steve on this trip, but my favorite thing about Steve is that he’s an instigator for fun, whether it’s getting a group to take a gondola up to a mountain peak or going for pizza and beers before dinner, or leading a trek to a museum for a 5000 year old mummified Italian guy.
Larry is one guy I didn’t know well before this trip. Larry and I spent a couple of hours together at the Venice airport, and I learned about how he has become a PMC Living Proof rider — cancer survivors riding the PMC. Larry is a survivor of breast cancer and is very forthright about it being something more men should be aware of.
Larry really is an amazing guy and so supportive of everyone else. Larry was also one of the key planners for the trip, along with Steve and Jeff. They all did an amazing job. Rich said this: “Larry’s meticulous planning and logistics were well communicated.” Ellen shared this anecdote about Larry and Steve.
“Best memory from trip: Three miles from the top I’d decided to walk. I stopped at a switchback, where Larry had stopped. I told him I was going to walk, and he said, “Nah,” and I said, “Yeah,” and he said, “Nah. I’m going to get going, but I’ll wait to see you clip in safely,” and I said, “I’ll walk,” and he said, “Nah, just clip in, and then I’ll go.”
It was Larry. So I clipped in. And then negotiated with myself the remainder of the climb. Ride .5 miles. Okay, now just to 1.75 from the summit. Okay, just another .25. And so it goes, and so I went, in the saddle.
At the summit, I burst into tears. Lar was there, and I told him he was responsible for pushing me, for my riding to the summit. I FaceTimed my son and cried and showed him the view. He texted after, “You chose your hard and you pushed through!
Then I saw Steve. Steve has been the one pushing me for years. You can do Mt. Washington. (No, I can’t and I won’t. He’s relentless, and that refrain continued until I rode Mt. Washington.) Steve and I hugged and celebrated our success riding the Stelvio, being at the summit together.”
I also had a big hug with Steve at the top of the Stelvio. As much as I was relieved to have completed that climb I could see that Steve was more fulfilled than relieved. Though I am not as steeped in professional cycling lore as others and so didn’t have the same expectations for the Stelvio, it was infectious to see how joyous Steve and some of the others were at being up there.
Jeff, the third of our organizer triumvirate, was also someone I had ridden with but knew little about.
What I did know about Jeff was that he is pretty much unstoppable on the bike. Once he starts a route he is going to finish it. He had ridden a very difficult, hilly route on one of our training rides before Italy, finishing it solo when others in his group cut off the last 13 miles. So, it was not a surprise that he was the only one that did the ride to Cortina that added 1000 feet of climbing to our Falzarego to Giau loop. “That’s the route we planned so that’s the route I’m going to do,” he said the morning of the ride. The rest of us bypassed Cortina. Jeff also planned and did a monster of a ride over the Mortirolo, one of the toughest climbs in Europe, with grades approaching 20% near the top. Reviews of this climb on the web include gems like this, “It’s not a good climb on a bike…it’s a penance. You ask yourself “why? every time you tackle it but when you reach the top…you still ask yourself “why?” Jeff did this ride unsupported. Mad respect. (Side note: Graham spoke for most of us who had done the super-hard-but-not-as-hard-as-the-Mortirolo Fedaia climb when he said, “Why? Why? WHY?”)
I also enjoyed Jeff’s dry wit and his wonderful chemistry with Ellen. Just don’t ask Jeff to share his dinner with you.
I shared a bit from Ellen above and she had more to share. Some her best memories from the trip are “…our times together. In my mind the memory is mushed into big tables, laughter, celebration of friends and nature and adventure.” Ellen is an exuberant person, and though small in stature she has a wonderfully big personality. We had a wonderful non-debate about the Oxford comma (we agree it is essential, and also that kids today don’t learn it.) We didn’t ride together much, but I felt her presence a lot, especially her joy at the summits. I wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Graham commented, “and to Ellen, how contagious her emotion is after finishing all the tough climbs.” Amen.
On friendship, Ellen shared this reflection with me, “Because of logistics and pace (okay, just pace), I don’t cycle as much with my old peeps, and their group has tightened and expanded, as such things do. Being together on this trip reinforced that the friendships remain though elements change. And I thoroughly enjoyed time with newer friends and connecting more with and learning more about older friends. Our cycling community is rich that way.”
I love that I’m in the same community as Ellen. We are indeed rich in that way.
It was also a pleasure to get to know Todd and Donna, one of the three couples on the ride. Though I had ridden with Todd and Donna once or twice, Italy was the first time I got to really spend time with them. I loved watching how they supported each other. Donna is a strong climber, while Todd is a fast descender on the bike. They complemented each other so well. I loved learning about Donna’s family history (a family farm that’s still in operation growing Christmas trees!) and about Todd’s passion for bringing babies into the world as a doctor.
Todd also agrees with me the that when there are limited servings of strawberry gelato, it’s no time to be a gentleman; take yours and run.
Jack is also one of the veterans on the European bike tours. I had met and ridden with Jack first at PMC Unpaved and later on the weekend rides. Jack is the guy you want if you need to get some new threads; he has style. Jack is partially responsible for Jeff going home with an entirely new wardrobe from Bolzano. Jack even convinced Jeff to buy a distinctive jacket in Bolzano, one sure to stand out when Jeff wears it. Then, he bought the same one for himself. I can’t wait to see them twinning back home. He also readily shares tips about retirement planning.
Aside from giving exceptional financial and sartorial advice on this trip, Jack also gave me the best suggestion for approaching the climbs. “Ride every day like a recovery ride,” he said. In other words, don’t try to race or keep up with the person in front of you. Ride your ride, trying to stay in a comfortable pace for you. I kept that in mind every day. It was sage advice. Using that approach I was able to complete all the rides and felt super strong on our last climb of the week.
Ken was another one of the newbies on the rides I had ridden many times with Ken, who is one of the key organizers for our morning rides. In Italy, I learned that besides riding, Ken prioritizes eating gelato above almost anything else. Ken led several forays for a good gelato shop, and for that I thank him.
Ken is an all around strong rider because he rides almost year round when weather permits. He can climb, sprint, do the long rides, keep the group safe, and he’s also a great supporter of other riders. Though he gets to the top of the hill faster than most, he is also there cheering everyone else on as they finish. When I confided that some of the climbs really intimidated me he replied, “I have complete confidence that you’re going to do just fine.” I appreciated that a lot.
Given his riding acumen, I was impressed that Ken had this to share:
“I didn’t think cycling could be any more enjoyable but it was.
The trip brought new challenges that i had never experienced. Pushing your physical limits for a week straight is not something I had ever done.
Climbing mountains is almost as much mental as physical. You need to have confidence in your ability, your body, your bike. When you still have a great distance to the top and the muscles are screaming, it’s the voice inside that pushes you.
Climbing is also not a team sport like our group rides. You settle into your own pace, cadence, speed. I would focus on my heart rate, my breathing, my pedal stroke, my position. When things were going well, I would stare in awe at the beauty of our surroundings. When not, just look down at the front wheel and the road appeared flat.
Getting to the top brought an incredible sense of accomplishment. I would snap a pic of each mountain pass sign as a sign of conquering it.”
Michael is another rider who is usually out front. Part of his riding fitness comes from participating in an indoor virtual racing league over the winter. Several of us raced with him over the past winter and I feel like it definitely helped me come into the spring outdoor riding season with an improved base.
Last year, I had ridden with Michael at a gravel event and learned that Michael’s spouse is, like Ken, a huge fan of ice cream, and knows where all the best ice cream is served in Massachusetts. I was hoping this might have led Michael to become our expert on gelato in Italy, but he seemed content to leave that role to Ken. (Ken was not so deferential to Michael on the last climb of the week, blowing past Michael at the top just when it looked like Michael would be #1 on the climb.)
On the rides, I often got passed by Michael, caught him when he stopped to take a picture of the gorgeous scenery, and then got passed again. He has a great eye for landscapes.
Michael and I stomped around Bormio and got some good pictures.
Beata was one of the other phenomenal photographers on the trip. I could fill an album with her great shots — many of them epic panoramas like Michael’s. Beata’s specializes also in documenting people and churches.
Riding with Beata, you never know what you’re going to get. She might put the hammer down and disappear up the mountain in front of you, or she might decide to go more tour pace so she can stop and take a photo when something catches her eye.
I wrote previously about stopping with Beata to photograph a church and how that brief pause in the ride completely changed the vibe for the better. Whereas I felt slow and sore before the stop, afterwards I had a bit more energy. Divine intervention? I don’t know, but I’m grateful to Beata for the inspiration.
Speaking of inspiring, Beata’s road to Italy was a bit of a miracle itself. Injured in a serious accident last fall, Beata didn’t start indoor cycling until late in the winter and only got on the road late in the spring. But there she was in the front group most of the week in Italy. Whether it was her base level fitness, her dedication to doing everything her PT told her to do, or maybe some wolverine blood, her recovery was amazing. Graham asked, “Would anyone else in the group have done that? (Ok, maybe Rich)”
Rich was the third of the newbies on the ride along with me and Ken, I can’t say enough about the positive energy he brings to the group. Riding with Rich is like having a personal trainer, nutritionist, and PT on your team. At the top of the Stelvio I was suffering a bit at the van, and Rich came over with some pasta, some meat, and some salty snacks to help me bounce back. Early in the trip, I had tightness in my abductor and Rich showed me some great stretches that helped loosen the area and relieve the pain. And every morning Rich would look at my breakfast and make sure I had the right balance of foods and enough calories. Rich looks like an effortless rider, but I know he works hard to get to that level. He’s always willing to ride up front to allow others to draft behind him and rest.
Last but certainly not least, riding with Graham in Italy was a blast. Graham is also a strong climber and most days I would see him for the first few miles and then again at the top of the climb and the descents. Graham was also key to me being in shape for this ride as he organized several gratuitously hilly rides in the spring. He also has a sense of humor that I appreciate. If you put Graham and Steve together over a beer, magic happens, and much of it is not fit for this blog. Let’s just say there is much laughter.
Graham shared some of his favorite memories:
“I particularly enjoyed the afternoon regroup/hangout before dinner and our meetup spots – Near the sauna shed in Bormio – the tables we took over in front of the hotel in Bolzano (including the lovers’ sleigh) – The bar/beer beach garden in Alleghe. A beer after a hard day’s work with nowhere to be.
The motorcyclists…They don’t seem fond of cyclists, but they had a surprising admiration for Stelvio finishers. Many congratulated me and shook my hand.
My summit races with Ken at the top of the summits out of Alleghe. Each one ends with Ken winning and me having an excuse (it’s not manly to sneak attack; the climb when Garmin says it ended, not when it levels off; he deviated dangerously from his line and almost took me down — that one I take as a legitimate win)
The gondola ride on Falzarego
Getting rained on the Falzarego descent because we took too long on the gondola ride.
The war memorial on the Falzarego descent.
Getting rained on the Falzarego descent because we took too long at the war memorial church.”
Some final thoughts and memories…
I loved how this group pulled for each other, and how we all came together at meals and at the summits.
The food in Alleghe at our hotel was delicious but the volume wasn’t sufficient for the riding crew. Steve spoke to the head server and the next night portions were increased.
In Bormio, our head server was like a character out of a Wed Andersen film, very upset when we didn’t order from the menu properly. He would storm around the hotel muttering and shaking his head.
Our British guide claimed that the most obnoxious drivers on the Stelvio were all Czechs.
A German couple was particularly upset when we showed up en masse to stretch in the spa area while they were using the sauna. “This is not a gimnasio,” we were told.
Though there were close calls (a squirrel darted out in front of Ken while he was doing 40 mph, a van nearly sideswiped Steve in Alleghe, Donna’s shoelaces tried to trip her up in Bolzano) there were no mishaps on the bikes. Very thankful for that.
Everyone it seemed went into the trip with at least a little self-doubt and/or trepidation. Everyone tacked their challenges in their own way. The youngest of us is in our 50s, but we tackled some serious climbs. I think I’ll end this long post with some words of wisdom from Ellen, whose reflections touched me especially.
Ellen writes, “Still I’m learning, at this age, that I can do what I don’t believe I can. Like every single effort it requires little bites. One pedal stroke, then another. I can ride only what is under my tires, not what I’m looking at (in fear) ahead.
I am (still) motivated by my friends’ belief in me.
I think that I don’t have the unwavering drive that my friends do or, perhaps, that I formerly did. That’s not completely negative. Rather, it is part of my radical acceptance of myself and getting older.
Valuable lesson: An immensely challenging trip makes me anxious, but I’ve realized that anxiety and fear don’t need to be entwined or paralyzing. On our two French Alps trips, I often felt fearful—drivers seemed too close or careless of we cyclists, descents were tedious and scary. On our Italy trip, however, it seemed that most drivers were more aware, respectful, and cautious (it’s possible that my sensibility changed, nonetheless there was a measurable difference in drivers’ behavior around cyclists). In addition, instead of feeling fearful about descents, I just hopped in the van. Problem solved. These factors eliminated an entire negative dimension of the trip.”
Thank you, cycling friends, for an amazing trip!!
Where to next?
Fargo and Away 