Day 67 – Catching Up In Iowa

Sorry I’ve been away from the blog front for a while… We’ve been focusing on riding and taking care of some other fundraising elements around the ride.

When we last left the ride – I had just completed my second 100-mile century day of the trip and made my way through Lincoln, Nebraska. Since then, we’ve worked our way up through Omaha, Nebraska, and over to Des Moines, Iowa (which is where I’m blogging from now). We’ve made some pretty good progress and we’re right on track for our finish in Virginia Beach on or about August 26th.

The main theme for the past few days has been “hot and humid” – everyone warned me that the Midwest in July was not going to be pretty weather wise, and they were definitely right on target. The deeper we get into the Midwest the more the humidity picks up, and the 100 degree days that were marginally bearable out west become more and more oppressive with every passing mile. The good news is that as you bicycle along you create your own 15 mile per hour breeze, so even the humid Midwest heat isn’t all that bad. The only really tough times are the uphills – when you only create a 5 mile per hour breeze – and there are loads of rolling hills out here in Iowa, so I keep going back and forth between breezy and comfortable vs. hot and sweaty.

At least the headwinds have finally died down. Since Lincoln we’ve had mostly calm air with an occasional slight tail-wind at my back. It’s not quite the jet-stream super-boost I was hoping for when I hit the Midwest, but I’ll take it over headwinds any day of the week.

As for Iowa, I think we arrived about 10 days too late (it’s a shame, because that’s almost exactly how much we got delayed when our car died in Pocatello, Idaho). We just missed the end of an annual Iowa event called “RAGBRAI” – (The Des Moines “Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa”) Each year about 15,000 bicycle riders hit the road to, as the name describes, Ride Across Iowa. But this is no ordinary ride – from the bicycle friends we’ve met in Des Moines it sounds like RAGBRAI is more like a 500 mile rolling party. There are literally “Beer Gardens” set up in each city for the riders – and it sounds like beer is the drink of choice for many along the route. (The police literally have to enforce beer garden closure times – and force all bars in town to close for an hour on the same schedule – to keep riders moving along the route.) It sounds like an insane but wonderful experience – one that I’m seriously considering joining in (the ride parts, not the beer parts) next summer.

And finally, I’m typing to finish this “catch up” blog as quickly as possible, because in about 20 minutes we’re off to the local radio station WOW.FM to do an on-air radio interview about the Dog Cancer Ride Across America. It’s actually going to be the 4th radio interview for me in the last 24 HOURS. Crazy. Last night I spent 40 minutes on air (by telephone) with Fred Haney in Phoenix, Arizona on his “My Doggie Says…” radio program. (What a great experience – Fred was wonderful to talk with and a true friend of dogs). And this morning it was off to a local station here in Des Moines (95KGGO – Classic Rock) to join the morning show with Lou Sipolt… And then, as we were leaving the station, Lou got us an interview on the “Hatfield & McCoy Morning Show” on country radio KJJY 92.5, which happens to broadcast out of the same studio. Between the 2 stations, we were probably heard by over 250,000 listeners.

And now it’s back to the same studios (I think 4 or 5 stations actually broadcast out of the same building) for our 1:20 PM interview on Des Moines talk radio station, 98.3 WOW.FM.

So like I said, just be cause I haven’t been blogging much lately (sorry about that, I should be getting back into the daily routine again starting tonight) there’s a lot going on around the Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

And it’s thanks to you, and our wonderful supporters across the country, that everything we’re doing to get the word out, to fill up the map of heroes, and to raise money to help dogs get the cancer care they deserve, is working its way towards success as we ride our way towards Virginia Beach, Virginia.

Keep up the great work.

Live “On-Air” from Des Moines, Iowa – this is Ted Schneck saying goodbye along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America Network.

Bye for now, and next stop (in about 3 days) Kansas City. Don’t worry we’ll talk before then…

Day 62 – The Story of the 4 Minute Mile

Back in 1959, most experts believed it was physically impossible for a human to run a mile in under 4 minutes. Yet on May 6, 1954, on a track in Oxford, England, a man named Roger Bannister managed to do just that. To this day, this 3 minutes 59.4 second record run is considered by many to be the single “greatest individual athletic achievement of all times.”

I have a friend named Doug Keeley who teaches a leadership training course called “The Mark of a Leader” for large groups and corporations. And Doug uses Bannister’s 4-minute mile story as a teaching tool – to teach corporate leaders, of all things, the importance of teamwork.

Because apparently, as Roger Bannister freely admits in his interviews about the run, the 4 minute mile had nothing to do with an “individual” achievement – it was, in every respect, the work of a TEAM.

Sure, Bannister is the man with his name in the record books – and yes, he’s the one who ran the entire mile in 3 minutes 59.4 seconds. But, what’s little known about Bannister’s run, is that he actually ran with a team of 3 other runners to reach this 4-minute goal.

As I remember the story, the team agreed that Bannister was the best runner of the group and had the best chance of breaking the individual record. So the created a strategy that would, as a team, give him the best chance to succeed.

As they left the starting line, the first member of the team (the rabbit) broke into the lead. His job was to set a blazing pace for the first 1/4 mile, to ensure that Bannister was on pace for the record at the end of this mark. Bannister and the rest of the team followed closely behind, as the first rabbit burned his energy in the first 1/4 mile and then the rabbit dropped back and handed the task of leading over to the next member of the team. As they’d practiced, rabbit #2 took over from there – leading the team through a blistering pace until they reached the 1/2 mile mark (where he was scheduled to drop back) and then rabbit #3 took the lead to the 3/4 mile mark.

All this time, Bannister ran with his team behind the pace of his lead “rabbits” – letting them push the pace and burn their energy , while he maintained a strong pace and conserved his energy for the final 1/4 mile push. And finally, at the 3/4 mile mark, the last “rabbit” dropped back and left him to close out the last 1/4 mile on his own and engrave his name forever in the history books.

So while Roger Bannister was the first man ever to break the 4-minute mile, he was also the first to admit he could have NEVER accomplished his groundbreaking feat with the help of his team.

Well today, I had my “rabbit” join me on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

We happen to be riding through Lincoln, Nebraska, staying with a friend (and mentor) of mine Bryan Todd. He and his business partner Perry Marshall “wrote the book” on marketing with Google Adwords, (and Perry was actually the man who suggested I do a bicycle ride across America for dog cancer charity in the first place).

At any rate, while we were out to dinner last night, Bryan said that he’d love to join me for a section of the ride today. Now that comes as a shock – I’ve ridden over 2,200 miles on the ride so far, about 2,197 of them on my own) – so the thought of having an actual friend of mine ride along with me is pretty darn amazing.

Even better, he’d picked an interesting day to join me – because for today I had scheduled my 2nd “100-Mile Century Ride” of the route. Bryan and I agreed that he’d never make it the full 100 miles, so we decided to send me off first and have him join me for the final 40 miles – to be my rabbit and help me make it to the finish.

It was great to have a friend and kindred spirit along to help me make it those last 40 miles – even though it was mighty hot (when I was planning the route Bryan did warn me that it might be a bit hot in Lincoln in the middle of July – and indeed it was) and we had to race the sunset for those last 20 miles. But as we crossed the finish line for my 101 mile day I was pretty proud of myself and very grateful to have had the help of my friend and Dog Cancer Ride Across America teammate for the day – Bryan Todd – to help me with the ride.

Bye for now from Bryan’s home in Lincoln, Nebraska
101 fewer miles to go along
The Dog Cancer Ride Across America

- Ted Schneck

Day 60 – Take Me to the Fair

I have a child-like spirit – especially when there are lots of flashing bright lights and colors.

And the nice thing was that last night, when we arrived in the town of Hastings, Nebraska, after a long, painful (head-windy) ride, we discovered that so had the Adams County Fair.

Opening day of the fair – what could be more fun. So after a quick shower, I rushed out to the Fair, for a midway food dinner – corn on the cob, funnel cakes, etc. — yum.

Actually, funnel cakes don’t work all that well for me these days– considering that I don’t really (1) eat flour, (2) eat fried things or (3) eat sugar – and considering that the main (actually only) ingredients in funnel cake are (1) flour, (2) fried things and (3) sugar. Now that I think of it, maybe I should call my diet the “Funnel Cake” diet – because it seems that’s the main food group I’ve been working to eliminate.

We’re in the middle of Nebraska…, and let me tell they know how to do country fair’s right. They have a “swine house,” loads of livestock areas, carneys on the midway, scary rides – everything you could want for a night of country fair fun.

So I grabbed some dinner from the Texas barbeque stand – barbeque chicken (the healthiest thing I could find) – and strolled over to the cowboy bar (what else), right around the bend to sit down and enjoy my meal.

From the moment I walked in to the bar, it was obvious I was from a different world – them in cowboy boots and hats – me, a city boy rolling through town on a bicycle. I felt extremely out of place, yet at the same time had a strange sense of calm quiet confidence – feeling like I owned the world. It’s a great feeling – when you’re doing something big and challenging – and you’re proud of yourself, knowing that you’re doing something good – you walk into every place you go, standing tall and with your head held high.

Even in the middle of this country cowboy bar, it felt good knowing exactly who I was and what I was doing. Heck I even met one (very drunk) woman came up to tell me how handsome I was – and insisted on giving me a hug on her way out of the bar (it’s ok – her boyfriend had just been forcibly removed from the bar for public drunkenness – I told you these Midwest farm boys know how to do country fairs..)

As for the ride today – it went smooth and easy. First, there was no wind. My, oh my, how lovely that felt. After 5 days battling non-stop headwinds, it felt like a cord had been cut and I was free to ride freely down the road.

Better still, after looking at the map, I realized we weren’t as far off pace as I thought. We were only 140 miles outside of Lincoln, and by traveling a decent pace today and tomorrow, we’d be back on schedule for the rest of the Ride to come.

And at the end of the day we made a return visit to my Midwest summer fair – for another round of midway food (steak tacos and corn on the cob this time around) – before a good night’s sleep on my way to Lincoln in the morning.

Bye for now and good night, from Hastings, Nebraska,
along the Dog Cancer Ride Across America

Day 59 – Whatever It Takes

Life on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

This morning I did an interview with a reporter for the McCook (Nebraska) Daily Gazette – a really nice guy. During the interview, I explained to the reporter why this ride is different from most other cross country charity bicycle rides.

Most other rides are about a man riding a bicycle across country – with an occasional blog post and friends hopefully making donations to the charity of his choice.

This ride, however, isn’t about a man going cross-country with a little blog – it’s about a blog (and a website, and a Map of Heroes, and a donation page) rolling across the country – with one little man.

Because the important part about this Ride, in my mind, isn’t about me and my bicycle. It’s about figuring out what it takes to raise $100,000 to help dogs fight cancer.

Now don’t get me wrong, I understand the role I play in the big picture. As I explained to the reporter this morning, without me riding 4,281 miles on a bicycle I don’t get to meet with him, to share the mission of the Ride and raise awareness about dog cancer issues across the country.

The ride is a focal point – that’s why I do it each and every day, all summer long. But even though I spend 5 or 6 or 7 (or even hours a day on the bicycle – that’s just the start of things we do during the course of the day.

Let me share with you a typical day on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

Last night I rode until 6:00 PM, five hours and 52 miles down the road from our starting point in Benkelman, Nebraska. While on the road, I carry my voice recorder and cell phone, to start preparing the blog, writing letters to supporters, etc. And today, I’m on the phone with Ian, preparing for our 7:00 PM teleconference with some of our best supporters (to discuss sponsorship and publicity strategy issues).

I ride up to the hotel about 40 minutes before the call, spend 15 minutes washing up and the next 20 preparing for the call (making sure the website is ready for everyone to review, etc.). We’re extremely grateful to our supporters who take time out of their lives to join us on these calls to help the ride succeed. 75 minutes of brainstorming and ideas – people who really care.

But after they hang up and get ready for bed, it’s time for us to get to work. First some dinner (take out at the local 24 hour diner), then back to the room to work on the website and implement the ideas we talked about on the call. Work that will keep us going until about 2:00 AM (working on the computer is like a vortex – time just slips away)

By the time we’re done, I haven’t even begun the blog post for tomorrow’s daily ride report – but that will have to wait until morning. For now, it’s a late night walk with Angie, then off to bed by about 3:00 AM.

I keep thinking that someday I’ll wake up early and start my ride with the sunrise – and that might happen – someday – but not when I’m going to sleep at 3:00 AM. Instead we’re looking at a 10:00 AM wake up call.

10:30 AM – I’m up, showered and dressed, calling to schedule our interview with the local newspaper. The reporter and I agreed to meet downstairs in about 15 minutes.

Quickly I get on my gear and drag my bicycle down the stairs – the first part of today’s ride is going to be in the hotel lobby and I want to look the part. We spend about 45 minutes with the reporter – a nice guy – explaining to him about the ride, what we’re doing, and all the work that goes into creating an event like this – but most importantly, helping him connect with the amazing dogs (and amazing people) we’re riding for – so he can share this information with his readers and hopefully help us get a little closer to our charity fundraising goals.

At the end of the meeting, Ian announces that we need to find a mechanic to check – once again the car is leaking fluid.

11:30 AM – We hop in the car and drive to Wal Mart to get the car checked (fortunately it’s nothing to worry about – just some condensation from the air conditioner caused by the heat – finally, some good news about the car.) Then a quick run into Wal Mart to replace the bicycle rack we bought in Pocatello, which has mostly fallen apart over the course of the last 20 days.

And then…, oh yes, I still have to send out a blog post.

12:30 PM – So it’s back to the hotel lobby where I spend the next 2 hours writing the blog and talking on the telephone with ride supporters who are working on various projects with us.

Blogging is actually one of my favorite times of the day – I get to spin tales about the adventures we’d been on the day before. And create a legacy, that my sister gets to read to my niece and nephew (hi Jacob and Leeya), and that someday my grandchildren will read about – uncle/grandpa Teddy’s great adventure across America to raise money for dog cancer charities.

By now it’s 3:00 in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day is done – as is most of the sunshine, and I’m still posting the blog online as we start to figure out where we’re sleeping tonight.

Finally at 4 pm, I hit the road. Tonight I’ll ride until the sunset – 9pm in this part of the country – then come back to the room and start the process all over again.

These are the things you do when creating an event like this. Like I said, this ride is not about me riding my bike across country. If it was, I probably would be on the bicycle from 9 Am to 3 PM – then kick back to enjoy a nice relaxing dinner and cold beer at the end of the day.

No, this ride’s about using me for a greater good – to help these dogs get the care they need. And I’m proud to do it.

Like I said, whatever it takes.

I hope you’ll join us, and do whatever it takes with us, to help make this Dog Cancer Ride Across America a success, and help us raise $100,000 for dog cancer charities. Together we really can make this happen.

Bye for now, and we’re happy to have you on board…

- Ted Schneck
from Arahahoe, Nebraska along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America
www.DogCancerRide.com

Day 58 – Getting the Word Out

My first full day riding through Nebraska. Somehow we managed to jump back and forth between time zones – central, then mountain, then central again. It gets pretty confusing, especially since we scheduled our 2nd VIP Planning Teleconference for later today. (It literally took 20 minutes to figure out what time I had to get off the road to make sure I was on the call.)

But the most important thing about today (about every day, actually) isn’t the ride – it’s about getting the word out. Helping people understand the importance of what we’re doing – and helping people come together for a cause.

It’s estimated that 1 out of every 4 dogs will get cancer in this lifetime. It’s also estimated that there are about 73 million dogs in America (in 69 million households). That’s over 18 MILLION dogs who will have to deal with this terrible disease.

When we started this ride, we set a goal to help – to raise $100,000 for dog cancer charities. You know, it would be great if we found one or two large sponsors to help us reach that goal. But do you know something, if you get the word out to the dog community it would take just 100,000 people, donating just $1 each, to have the same result.

OK, let’s do the math – 18 Million dogs with cancer – $100,000 to be raised from 100,000 people – that’s just one-half of one percent (0.5%). That’s all we need.

Better still, we have The Map of Heroes (http://www.MapOfHeroes.com). The Map of Heroes allows dog owners to donate $35 or more to put a tribute to their dog cancer hero on the map while helping other dogs get the cancer care they deserve. There’s 2,700 spots available on the Map of Heroes. All together, that’s over $94,600 for dog cancer charities. So really, all we need is to reach 2,700 dog lovers (now that’s just 0.01%).

The only question is, how do you get the word out? That’s what we’ve been doing all summer long.

It may LOOK like I’m riding my bicycle across America. Really what I’m doing is working to create a community. I KNOW the dog lovers are out there. I know they understand how important dogs are to their owners. I know they understand what it means to have to sit there and watch your dog suffer because you can’t afford to pay for his care. And I know they want to help.

My job is to form a community, where people can come to help.

And today, some of the key members of this community joined Ian, Nikki and me on that telephone call – to figure out ideas on how to get the word out, and bring the community together.

It was wonderful to have everyone on the call – thank you – because I realized a while back that my ideas (while they can be pretty good at times) are nothing compared to what can come from the collective group of dog lovers and Dog Cancer Ride Across America supporters.

If you missed the call, but still want to be involved, please let me know. Or better still, make sure to visit our website http://www.DogCancerRide.com (where you can check out our new promotional video, that was professionally edited by my movie producer friend in Los Angeles) and the Map of Heroes at http://www.MapOfHeroes.com.

And of course, tell your friends about the Ride, and let’s see what we can do together, to Get the Word Out and help these dogs (and their owners) get the chance they deserve.

- Ted Schneck
along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America

Day 57 – A Change in Perspective Cures a Hot Kansas Day

I woke up this morning feeling the lingering effects of the heat. My skin was actually hot. My inner core, hot. We had reached the Midwest, and it was HOT. So hot that I pondered staying home and resting, rather than risk the effects of going out into the blazing Midwest sun. (I’ve actually known some people – friends of friends – who have died of heat stroke, and I’ve felt the effects myself, so I know just how bad it can be.)

But after a cool shower and some rest in front of the A/C, my body started to cool down and I felt good enough to get on my bike and give it a ride.

Man was it hot.

The ride itself was actually pretty easy. Slightly downhill. And I had plenty of water with me – enough to drink, and to pour over my head in my efforts to stay cool. There was a constant strong “side wind” but I could handle that.

As a matter of fact, it was probably the side wind that kept me going. The brisk 15 MPH wind felt like body blows, but it definitely cooled me down as I made the long hot ride towards Kansas.

And after 32 miles – I made it back to St. Francis, Kansas, where I knew Ian and Nikki were resting in our Air Conditioned motel room.

When suddenly it came to me – “Why am I fighting this…?” So I turned off the road and into the motel to cool down and recover. And a few minutes later, we decided to do what any intelligent biker in our position would do…

We went shopping!

There was a Wal-Mart about 30 miles away, where I could purchase some much needed supplies. So we hopped in the car, cranked the AC (I figured I’d multi-task and cool down while gathering the supplies that I needed), and headed into town.

While there, we met a lovely man and his wife (John and Shelly) at the gas station. They saw the signs on our car and wanted to know about the ride and what we were doing. It ends up John’s father had been an Olympic bicycle racer, and John himself had done some bicycle racing while growing up in New Jersey. Plus they had another connection to the Ride…, a Monday morning appointment with the vet, to see what’s wrong with their dog – they’re afraid it might be cancer. And as we said goodbye and started to head out of the parking lot, John got out of his car and handed us a $10 bill – his donation to the Ride and the dog’s we’re fighting to save…

Thank you John, we really appreciate it. And we hope your dog feels better soon.

By time we got back from our shopping run, it was getting late and the temperature had finally cooled down enough to get back on the road. But as I traveled down Route 36, the wind continued to pound me from the side – blowing towards the north, while I was riding along towards the east.

And then I realized – “Why am I fighting this…?”

At some point in the next few days I need to ride north, to jump into Nebraska on our way over to Lincoln. Why not turn north tonight, and finish the day with the wind at my back?

So as I pulled into the next town, Bird City, Kansas (“The Only Bird City in America” – the sign said, not that I thought anyone was counting), I made a sharp left on Highway 161 and headed north towards Benkelman, Nebraska.

And from then on out, the ride was a thing of beauty.

No more struggling to push out 15 MPH, with winds crashing against my side. Instead I coasted and rolled along at a casual, comfortable 23 MPH, flying past the fields as the sun began to set in the distance. And even though I thought Kansas was all flat, I found some nice rolling hills that made for a really beautiful ride.

Finally, as the sun set, I arrived in Benkelman, ready for my support car to pick me up and take me home for a good night sleep. Tomorrow, it’s back on the road, only this time in Nebraska, on our way to Lincoln, Omaha and points east…

For today, a little change in perspective had gone a long, long way.

Bye for now from the Dog Cancer Ride Across America.
And we’ll see you in Nebraska.

- Ted Schneck
on the Dog Cancer Ride Across America

Day 57 – Finding My Inner Downhill

After days of wondering, “where’s my downhill” – days when the downhill I was supposed to be riding down, wasn’t as downhill as the maps said the downhill should be – today, finally, for the first time since Denver, I found my downhill.

And boy, did it feel good!

From the moment I got on the bicycle today, just outside of Last Chance, Colorado, on my way (downhill) towards Kansas, everything felt a little different.

No more headwinds. No more jello legs. But most of all, for the first time in days, as I started my ride, I felt the familiar, unmistakable glide affectionately known as “coasting”. Finally, the speedometer was back up above 9 MPH and the mile markers started to roll by at a consistent pace.

Today was everything that yesterday was supposed to be. And it felt good to be back on the road again.

And this downhill came just in time too – because there were miles to make up. The past few days (yesterday especially) had been much slower than expected – and we were severely at risk of falling even further behind schedule for our expected arrival date in Lincoln, Nebraska.

It was a bit warm, for sure – and as I dipped out of the hills, the humidity kicked in for the first time since the ride began (a taste of things to come – I’m guessin’ yes). But I’ll take hot and humid over 20 MPH headwinds any day of the Ride, so no complaints here.

Today’s ride took me down Route 36, which I’m told used to be the main “highway” from Denver to Kansas before they completed Interstate 70. But that was long ago, and it shows. By now, Route 36 is a ghost road – with a few speckled towns – and virtually no gas stations (I’ve become quite dependant on my daily Conocos and Sinclairs to fill up my water bottles as I ride along). Just a few under-stocked country stores (and a few more liquor stores) to fill up and refresh along the way. (The owner of one liquor store swears some bicyclists stop in for a cold beer before continuing down the road – but for me a bottle of water and some tiny mixed drink OJ cans were good enough).

And I even got to ride through my favorite named town on the Ride so far – “Joes, Colorado”. I can just picture some guy named Joe settling the town and declaring its name – Joes. Not Schnecksville, or Smithtown – just Joes. But to my great disappointment, the town was too small to have a proper diner – so I can’t say that I stopped to “Eat at Joes”. Oh well, maybe later, when we ride through “Max, Nebraska” (Joes cousin, I presume…)

All in all the long straight ride along Route 36 was just what I needed for the day – moving the sticks 70 miles closer to Kansas, and closer to our final destination in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The Midwest is upon us. Gone are the rough and rugged mountains – with broad pastures for grazing livestock. Hello corn and wheat fields – for as far as the eyes can see. And while I didn’t expect it, they’re actually quite beautiful – “amber waves of grain” really did seem appropriate as I rode past 100s of acres of wheat ready to get harvested, interlaced with massive fields of green corn stalks. I’ll probably get bored with the view (as I pass through hundreds of these farms over the next few weeks), but for today, they actually represented a beautiful change of pace.

Like I said, it was a beautiful day to ride, and the perfect day to find my inner downhill.

From the Empire Motel in St. Francis, Kansas (the car’s in Kansas, I have to go back 30 miles in the morning to pedal my way back from Idalla, Colorado), this is Ted Schneck saying goodnight,

And I’ll see you down that hill.

Bye for now.

Day 56 – Even the Worst Day on the Ride is Better Than the Best Day at…

Ted Schneck here on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America – and momma always told me there’d be days like this…

When you ride 90 days across the country, there are bound to be a few where you just plain struggle.

I was actually looking forward to today’s ride. Thought I’d get an early start to make up some lost miles. And when I woke up, it was a beautiful clear day and I was looking forward to my nice downhill journey towards the plains of Kansas. All in all, feeling good about the ride to come.

But then things got off on the wrong foot.

I’d slept in a bit later than expected and we got delayed getting out of the house – everything was taking longer than expected.

And along the way back to the ride start point, to the tiny town of Strasburg, Colorado, I ended up bickering with my assistant in the car – over stupid things, things I’d carry with me throughout much of the day’s ride.

And the downhill – that was supposed to be downhill – didn’t end up being all that downhill after all. The entire ride seemed pretty flat to me – with loads of rolling hills to challenge me along the way. One of these days I’m going to get me that downhill – I mean, I AM going from 5,280 feet down to sea level, so you would think…

But then the kicker… – the dreaded headwinds.

You know, part of the reason I ride from west to east is because the winds generally flow in that direction – west to east along the jet stream, down off the mountains in Colorado, down along the plains. Nice gentle tailwinds to guide me along my journey. Well not today. Today the constant, strong 20 MPH winds chose to come at me head on – out of the east. Slowing my journey to a crawl and making me work hard for every mile I rode.

To give you a sense of how difficult today’s ride was – from the time I left Strasburg, until the end in Last Chance, Colorado, I rode 5-1/2 hours, straight on, without passing through a single town, the winds beating on me constantly and with nothing to eat or drink except the food and water I carried with me on the bicycle. And for the entire 5-1/2 hour ride, I traveled a grand total of 40 miles – that’s an average of 7 Miles per Hour. Not so fast, Sonny. (No, really…, that’s not so fast)

But as I rode along, battling fierce winds and fighting every step of the way, my mind drifted to my friends back home. The ones who were sitting in their office, all day under the fluorescent lights, drafting out generic legal contracts; the ones who were working two jobs to scrape together enough money to pay this month’s rent; the ones working in the hot sun, planting trees and hating every minute of it, to make it through tough times in their chosen profession.

And I realized just how lucky I was to be out here in this nasty headwind. How lucky I was to be doing what I loved – riding to help dogs (and their owners) get the care they need. How fortunate I was that sales of my book, Curing Canine Cancer, give me the freedom to take 3 full months out of my life to help others who need it more than I do. And how grateful I was, that I could be living my purpose, for service and charity, with all of the satisfaction that comes with it.

And all of a sudden, the winds didn’t seem so bad. Yeah, over the course of 90 days on the road there’d be days like this, where you struggle all day to go about 1/2 the distance you’d originally planned. But even on those days, I feel lucky to be here and in a position to help.

Because, even the worst of days on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America, is better than the best day for many – including some of those unfortunate dogs (and their owners) whose lives we’re riding to save.

And for that – and for your support to help us fill up the Map of Heroes and meet our donation goals to help these dogs in need – I give thanks every day…

From Last Chance, Colorado, out here in the middle of nowhere and hopefully getting ready for the beautiful wind free (and downhill) rides to come, this is Ted Schneck saying bye for now,

…and thank you.

- Ted Schneck
along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America
http://www.DogCancerRide.com
and The Map of Heroes at http://www.MapOfHeroes.com

Day 52 – Wheels Go Round In Circles

Blog Post Day 51 – Wheels Go Round in Circles

Colorado Springs.

A quick jaunt up to Denver. Just follow the mountains – straight up the road.

I logged on to Google Maps to show me the shortest path – clicked on the “Avoid Freeways” – and Bingo! – the perfect route, Route 83. A straight shot from Colorado Springs to Denver – 65 miles away.

I called Ian to start making plans for my arrival in Denver, and hit the road for the easy ride ahead.

I made one minor mistake when I hit the road. I forgot to fill my water bottles.

So as I rode out of town, I found myself getting thirsty and needing a place to stop and fill up. And then, the answers to my prayers. A lovely church – the New Life Church – a huge place with 3 large buildings – a large boxy corporate looking building that appeared to be the main offices, a large “tent like” building that seemed to house the chapel, and “The World Prayer Center” with offices and meeting areas for multi-denomination prayer meetings. I decide this will be the perfect place to cool off and fill up my water bottles.

While inside I met some lovely people (people tend to be so nice and friendly at the “multi-denominational” prayer centers along the way), filled my bottles, and made my way back onto the road for the long ride ahead.

But a funny thing happened on the way up to Denver. Along the way I rode past this TREMENDOUS planned community, out in the middle of nowhere – called Flying Horse. It’s barely begun construction, but you can get a sense of what it’s going to be in a few years. Giant mansions spread out over hundreds of acres – with large community parks, a fitness center, tennis courts, a golf course, etc. – heck, it even looks like they’re building their own K-12 school to take care of the local community. Truly a huge, and pretty spectacular, undertaking.

And as I continue down the road – and up the hills (I didn’t realize it, but there was a 1,500 foot climb to the highest point of today’s ride before heading downhill into Denver) – in the 90 degree heat. I notice a strange sight ahead…

Just down the road, over the hill, I see ANOTHER New Life Church in front of me – a mere 20 miles away from the first New Life Church. And this one’s just as big as the first.

Now that’s odd. All I can think is – wow, these guys are even more successful than I thought – to have TWO huge congregations within 20 miles of each other. I’m very impressed.

And as I get closer, I realize that this New Life Church is also made up of 3 large buildings… just like the first New Life Church near Colorado Springs (must have used the same architect)…

And that this main building seems to be a large boxy corporate looking building, very much like the one near Colorado Springs…

The that the other building is a large “tent like” building – just… like… the one near Colorado Springs

And the third building is

a… large…… “World……… Prayer………… Center……………”

Holy @#@$%^!

I just rode in a 20 mile long CIRCLE. UN-Be-lieve-able

A while back, in Idaho, I did a quick post about being in the “Twilight Zone” (as I traveled along my many “roads to nowhere”). Well it appears I’d found its little sister here in Colorado (Welcome to “Twilight Zone 2” along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America).

Still cursing, I turned my bike around and got back onto Route 83 (this time going north – I think – and making my way towards Denver).

But the giant “loop” had taken a lot out of me – and for the first time on the entire ride, discouraged and dejected, my legs were sore and achy and completely drained – I had nothing left in them.

I barely made it back up the hills to the high point in today’s ride (which had now become perhaps my most challenging day of the entire journey), and I was fortunate (and grateful) to discover that the final 25 miles of road really were all downhill into Denver – allowing me to coast into town, about 2 hours late and completely drained, but finally here to meet up again with my team (and get rid of the 30 pound backpack I’ve been carrying on my back the past 3 days) and enjoy dinner and a good night’s sleep at the home of a friend who was kind enough to offer to host us as we rode through town.

Tomorrow we’re off to take care of a few interviews, shopping for some much needed supplies, and then working our way down towards Kansas. Hopefully this time in a straight line…

From The Dog Cancer Ride Across America – just this side of The Twilight Zone – this is Ted Schneck saying good night…

And we’ll see you down the Vortex.

Bye for now.

Day 50 – When All Else Fails, Improvise

Quite the crazy day on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

Actually, it all started last night. I was riding along from Alma to Hartsell, Colorado. We were having a hard time figuring out where to stay at night. But the fates were getting ready to decide that for us.

When I looked down at my phone, I noticed I had missed 11 calls – all from Ian. It seems the car had broken down (again – we think it’s a broken fuel pump this time) back in Alma, and they were stuck.

With storm clouds brewing overhead, I hitchhiked the 18 mile journey back to Alma. (Some nice guys in a pickup truck, heading towards Breckenridge, let me throw the bicycle in the back of the truck and lie down next to it as they sped their way back towards Alma – a pretty surreal way to end the day’s ride).

By time I arrived, Ian had come up with a plan. But the plan required us towing the car into Denver to find a repair shop that was open on Sunday, so we could get back on the road as quickly as possible. Realistically, I thought we’d be out of luck until Monday – which would mean losing yet another 2 days to car troubles along the Ride.

Since we were already in a pretty good place for me to ride from, we decided the best thing would be to split up for a few days. Ian, Nikki and Angie would go with the tow truck to Denver (and stay with some friends who live there) – leaving me all alone in Alma (the highest populated town in America) to rest for the night and ride on solo through the Rockies.

One more problem. I was already 2 days behind in my blogging and website updates. Missing another 3 days as I rode solo towards Colorado Springs and then Denver would be terrible. So we came up with another improvised solution. I have a large backpack that I use as a computer bag – this was about to become my travel bag for the next three days – to carry all of my clothes (and my laptop) on my back as I ride.

The next morning I mapped out my route, and realized I’d be stranded in the middle of nowhere until I hit Colorado Springs, about 90 miles away. Guess I’m riding 90 miles today.

And once you ride 90 miles – well you might as well go the extra 10 miles to make it an official 100 mile “Century” Ride – oh well, Guess I’m riding 100 miles today.

The good news was, geography was on my side. They have an expression in Alma – they say “it’s all downhill from from here” – and they mean it. Alma is situated TEN thousand, 500 feet above sea level – while Colorado Springs is at FIVE thousand, 500 feet. A 5,000 foot drop – this could be the Easiest Century Ever.

So I got on my bike and headed off – excited about my easy breezy coasting 100 mile day. (Yeah right.)

Early in the ride, I realized just how big and bulky the computer in my backpack was – dragging heavily on my shoulders. So I stopped at the local Ace Hardware, bought a 12 foot roll of Velcro to create some improvised straps – and spent the next 1/2 hour Velcro-ing my backpack to my body. It looked a bit odd, but it worked surprisingly well.

The ride itself was beautiful – rolling canyons surrounded massive Colorado Rocky mountains. But I soon discovered that this ride wasn’t going to be as downhill as I thought. Yes, there really was a 5,000 foot altitude drop between Alma and Colorado Springs – but most of that drop happens in the last 10 miles into town. The middle 60 miles would take me up and down some long slow mountain passes. Seems the Easiest Century Ever, wasn’t going to be that easy after all.

Or as fast. At the start of the day I’d calculated the timing for the ride – and at a brisk pace along gently descending roads I’d knew I could make Colorado Springs and my Easiest Century Ever, right around sunset with plenty of time to spare. But the hills had another idea about my timing – and as I approached the top of the final hill, 15 miles outside of Colorado Springs, the sun was starting to set over the horizon. Leaving me no choice but to ride the rest of the way into Colorado Springs (plus the extra 12 miles to complete my Century and make it to my hotel) in the dark.

When I finally arrived at my hotel (about 2 hours later) – late at night and in the dark, I was exhausted (and a bit numb) – but felt good about my 100 mile journey into Colorado Springs (with a 30 pound backpack on my back. And hit the bed for some much needed rest and to get ready to complete my 70 mile journey into Denver, Colorado the next day.

From Colorado Springs, Colorado – an exhausted and sore Dog Cancer Rider Across America – this is Ted Schneck saying good night, and I’ll see you down the road…

Bye for now.