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.

Day 49 – Friends Along the Way

Today was a people day along The Ride Across America. Imagine that!

It can be a long, lonely ride, traveling by bicycle across America. Hours on the road alone, with nothing but you and the wilderness.

But today I entered a bit of a time warp, and for a while everything changed.

When I ended the ride last night at the Pearl Izumi outlet store in Silverthorne, Colorado, the clerk mentioned something in passing about there being thousands of bicyclists on the road today. It seems today was the annual “Triple Bypass” ride – 3,500 riders taking on 3 major mountain passes in one day.

And as I got on the road, I realized I had dropped myself right into the middle of the Triple Bypass route.

About 10 years ago I did a charity bicycle ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles – 3,500 riders going 570 miles over 7 days. Looking back now, 1600 miles into my current journey, it seems like a piece of cake. But it was an amazing experience, riding with 3,500 people on a giant adventure – tent villages every day, supported rest stops, etc.

Although the triple bypass is only a 1 day event, they ride 125 miles (Oy) over 10,350 feet of vertical rise (double Oy), and the feeling was very similar. Hundreds of people in colored bicycle jerseys, pedaling along with friends at varying speeds.

And as I we turned the bend around the Dillon Dam Reservoir, along “my section” of the Triple Bypass route, there was a big glorious rest stop. Volunteers, handing out fruit and cliff shots and electrolyte drinks. It reminded me just how much fun it could be, to ride your bicycle along with 3,500 of your closest friends.

As I left the rest stop, fueled up (and feeling a bit wimpy for only having ONE 11,500 foot summit pass to ride over today), my journey took me down a different road than theirs, and again I was alone heading up the bike path to my challenge for the day – Hoosier Pass.

This is an unbelievable part of the country – riding along beautifully manicured, multi-million dollar bike paths here in Bicycle Country, USA – stopping to support the adorable kids who had set up lemonade stands for riders along the road and all the time enjoying the beauty of the Rocky Mountains by my side.

Until finally, it was before me – my challenge for the day – Hoosier Pass. A climb to 11,542 feet, the highest mountain pass in the Rockies and my highest point on the Dog Cancer Ride Across America. It was a challenge for sure – 8% grades along massive switchbacks – but I’d been training for almost 1,600 miles by now and I was ready to take it on.

And as I’m riding up the hill – doing my best 4.6 MPH shuffle (I have the WORST gearing for climbing hills – but the BEST racing gears for riding downhill and along the flats) – I’m huffing and puffing my way up when a strange and wonderful thing happened. A red car drove past me, and out of the passenger side window popped a familiar face – Andrew, our host when we stayed in Steamboat Springs last week – and his son Andy. They were actually driving up Hoosier Pass – 150 miles from home – on their way to a camping vacation.

So we stopped to say hello and reminisce about old times together (we’ve known each other for 5 days) – catching up on the family, kids doing well, etc…. It was great to see an old friend so far from home.

Before long, it was time for me to get back on the road and continue my way to the top of the pass. Pushing my way up the hill – and blocking out the roar of Harley Davidson motorcycles roaring up the hill past me. What the heck was going on here?

And as I huffed and puffed and blew my way up the hill, right to the peak of Hoosier Pass, I saw the oddest sight of all – about 100 leather clad Harley Davidson bikers standing at the peak. I thought for a moment they might be there to greet me and cheer me on (you get some strange thoughts when you’re exhausted from riding up an 11,500 foot pass). I also thought for a moment about Pee Wee Herman in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure… the scene where he knocks down all the Harleys and nearly gets killed by the Bikers in the bar (I don’t know why, but I always get that vision when I go past biker bars…)

It ends up they weren’t there to greet me. They were in the middle of their own event – The “5 in 1” – riding up 5 x 10,000 foot passes in one day by motorcycle (Hoosier Pass was their last pass of the day).

So there they were, hundreds of bikers at the top of Hoosier Pass, Harley bikes and black leather, and there I was, in my blue bicycle jersey, clip in shoes and lycra bicycle pants, walking right into the middle of the crowd. I had found my people.

As I started walking over to the sign that marks the peak (and the Continental Divide) they all started moving away to give me a clear shot – but I said, “No, I want you all in the picture with me.” So they all gathered around and we all took a picture and some video together at the top of Hoosier Pass.

When I told them what I was doing – riding to raise money for charities that help dog owners pay for their dog’s cancer care – a few of them shouted “you ride man, we’re all down with dog cancer charities.” It was a very cool scene.

And as I rolled my way back down Hoosier Pass – by the way it is ALL downhill from here, Hoosier pass is the highest pass in the Rockies and the highest point I’ll reach on the entire ride – the ride reverted to it’s previous solitary ways. Alone again on my 4,281 mile journey across America – just me and my support crew, riding across country to raise money for dogs who need us to help them get the care they deserve.

But it had been great to be amongst friends, even if only for one day, along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

Bye for now from The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.
I’m looking forward to seeing YOU down the road too.

- Ted Schneck
In Alma, Colorado (85 miles and a 5,000 food drop) outside of Colorado Springs.
along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America
www.DogCancerRide.com

Day 47 – Mosquito Run

Earlier in the ride, as we rode through John Day, Oregon (it seems so long ago for some reason – even though the ride’s been going by so fast), we did a “Midnight Run” – riding down a five mile stretch of road at Midnight to avoid a construction zone that wasn’t passable during the day.

The Midnight Run was cold and dark, and frankly a bit creepy (pitch black skies, wearing 6 layers of clothes to try to stay warm, not able to see anything but the lines on the road, but hearing to all sorts of frogs and other unknown wildlife chirping away alongside the road)

Well, in many ways, the end of today’s ride rivaled the Midnight Run – and by the end, when Ian and Nikky finally arrived to take me to the hotel, I was glad that it was over.

But more about that later. First let’s catch you up on the other events of the day.

Today started off much like any other day on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America…

…….with two flat tires on my bicycle.

Have you ever had one of those days where… (no wait, that was yesterdays post…, nevermind)

Believe it or not, as we took my bicycle out for today’s ride, I noticed my rear tire was out of air. No surprise there. Because after riding the first 1,000 miles of the trip without a single flat tire, this morning’s (first) flat now made it 10 flats in the last 400 miles. (Actually, about 2/3 of these flats have really been “re-flats” – caused by 2 faulty patch kits – each of which worked great for a while before peeling away from the tire and letting out the air again.) I finally bought a new patch kit yesterday – and this morning was my first chance to put it to use.

And then, as we finished fixing flat number 10, Ian noticed that my front tire was out of air too – flat number 11! OK, no more patch kits – this time we’re putting on a brand new tube.

So, about an hour after schedule, I finally got on the road, ready to take on Rabbit Ear Pass again – my 12 mile, 2,500 foot climb into the Rockies – from where I’d left off yesterday evening.

And as I started the climb, I rode right past the 1/2 mile point where I’d gotten my first of 3 flats yesterday. Heck, I even made it past the 1 mile mark too, before getting flat tire #12. Argh. It seems the new patch kit didn’t work any better than the old one. Somewhere, somehow, we MUST have offended the “Tire Gods” – and they were striking back with a vengeance.

Proof of my Tire God theory came about 3 miles further up the hill – when I stopped for 5 minutes to resupply and meet up with Ian and Nikki, and noticed that this time I didn’t have a flat tire – this time my tube was starting to pop out of the side of my tire. The tire itself had died. Truly amazing. And truly necessitating at drive back into Steamboat Springs (yet again), this time to buy a replacement tire.

The Tire Gods were very angry…

And so, it would seem, were the Mosquito Gods…

I picked up a pair of beautiful new tires at the local Steamboat Springs bicycle shop (they held up great for the rest of the day’s ride – hopefully the Tire Gods have been appeased) – but by time I got back on the road after all of our equipment delays it was now nearly 5:00 PM – dangerously close to my “No More Rides at Sunset” decree. It seems that decree would need to be broken.

About 90 minutes later, I made it to the West Peak of Rabbit Ears Pass – a long slow painful hill that was made much easier by a local rider named Dan who met me on his way up the mountain (the locals actually do this thing for FUN) about 2/3 of the way up the hill, and kept me company (and gave me encouragement) all the way to the top.

By now, at the top of Rabbit Ears Pass, the time had come to Mosquito up – whip out those arm and leg protectors to minimize the damage. But it was too late. The minute I stopped I was swarmed by 10 mosquitoes, all out for blood. And then, by time I rode from the West Peak of Rabbit Ears Pass to the East Peak (where you officially cross the Continental Divide at 9,481 feet – a new Dog Cancer Ride Across America Record), they were literally flying along with me – landing on my shirt and pants, figuring out ways to bite me through my clothes (those Demon Beasts). The only way to keep them off was to keep moving. As long as I stayed at 14 MPH or more, it seemed, they couldn’t keep up. Not an easy task to do – uphill.

Finally, as I dropped off the far end of Rabbit Ears Pass’ East Peak, my speed grew as I dove back down out of the mountain pass and into the valley on the other side. Top speed, 42.9 MPH – another Dog Cancer Ride Acorss America record – and so fast that I had to put on my windbreaker jacket to try to stay warm (and beat off the mosquitoes) on my way down the hill.

The end of the day – Mosquito Run – was about a 15 mile ride – almost all fast , and almost all downhill. Which should have been wonderful, except for the fact that I was getting POUNDED the entire way, flying into mosquito after mosquito (it was like I was riding through a hail storm) – and lord knows I didn’t dare stop, for fear of even worse consequences than the sound of the mosquitoes bouncing off my jacket (oh yes, and my face).

And finally, after about 25 minutes of this mosquito hell…, salvation. That beautiful red car, with white Dog Cancer Ride Across America lettering, coming towards me to sweep me into town and signal the end of my ride for the day.

As Ian started to get out of the car to help me load the bicycle, I had to send him back into the vehicle to save him from our little friends. In the 10 seconds he’d been outside he was surrounded by about 30 mosquitoes, who would have happily eaten him alive in his t-shirt and shorts. At least I was protected, for the most part, as I slapped my bicycle on the back of the car in record time (yet another Dog Cancer Ride Across America record for the day) and dove in the car to escape the swarming masses.

Happily the day was over. Happily I seemed to (mostly) survive the attacks. And mostly, happily, I was DONE with Mosquito Run 2008.

From Kremming Colorado in the heart of the Rockies – and with renewed vigor to get OFF the road before sunset every night for the rest of this ride… – this is Ted Schneck, signing off and wishing you well along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

Bye for now – and we’ll see you up the next mountain pass (12,000 feet coming up, day after tomorrow)

- Ted Schneck

P.S. Thank you to everyone who’s been writing to recommend various Bug Sprays to ward off the mosquitoes. Unfortunately, most of those sprays use Deet and other harsh chemicals – which just don’t seem right to use, given the fact that I’m riding across America to raise awareness for people NOT to use those cancer causing chemicals around their dogs (or themselves). So for now, until I find a good natural/non-toxic alternative (I’m open to suggestions) I guess I’ll just have to keep riding fast – and stay away from late night sunset rides.

Day 46 – One of Those Days

“Have you ever had one of those days…?

You know, the one where you’re riding your bicycle on a 4,281 mile cross country journey…

And you’ve got a 12 mile long, 2,500 foot mountain to climb…

And just as you start climbing the hill, you get a flat tire…

So you fix the flat and get back on your bicycle,

But it decides to go flat on you again about 1/4 mile up the road…

And then again, about 1/2 mile after that…

And then, when you grab your phone to call your support vehicle so they can bring you a new bicycle tube, you discover that your cell phone service has been disconnected, because you switched services before you started the ride and didn’t realize that the bill was due…

So you flag down the nearest car (a nice couple from Denver with a lovable Rottweiler named Wonder who’s going blind from a rare genetic defect) and use their phone to call your support vehicle to bring you a new bicycle tube…

But you discover that your support vehicle driver’s (and his girlfriend’s) telephones are both turned off – and you get sent straight to voicemail…

So you have the nice couple from Denver (with a lovable Rottweiler named Wonder who’s going blind from a rare genetic defect) give you a ride back into town to buy a new bicycle tube…

And, once you buy the new bicycle tube and fix your tire, you realize that now you’ve spent virtually all the money you have on you to pay for the tube (and other miscellaneous bicycle supplies), and that now you have no more money left for the ride over the 12 mile long, 2,500 foot mountain you need to climb…

And your support vehicle driver’s (and his girlfriend’s) telephones are still both turned off and going straight to voicemail…

And it’s starting to get late in the day, and you realize that, with no phone, no money, and no support vehicle contact, you’re never going to make it safely to the top of the 12 mile long, 2,500 foot mountain you need to climb over…

So you resign yourself to having to ride back to the home where you stayed last night – to ask if they’d be kind enough to let you stay over one more night…

But you realize that you don’t actually have the address or phone number of the home where you stayed last night – and better still, you realize that since you’ve never ridden to the home where you stayed last night yourself (your assistant always drove you to the house), you’re not exactly sure where said home is located…

So you ride back through town, hoping to find some familiar landmark – and ultimately guess at the right street and find the home where you stayed last night…

Only to arrive just as you support vehicle is leaving the home to come and find you and pick you up from your days ride up what was supposed to be a 12 mile long, 2,500 foot mountain…”

…

Yeah, I thought you’d understand.

Oh well, just another day along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America (Day 46, to be exact)

From the home of Andrew and Andy (father and son), who graciously let us stay with them in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, last night (and again tonight), this is Ted Schneck saying goodnight and hoping Day 47 goes a little bit smoother than Day 46 (as we make attempt number 2 at the 12 mile long, 2,500 foot mountain I need to climb over to get to Denver)…

Bye for now and we’ll see you…

Up the mountain.

- Ted Schneck

P.S. Actually, truth be told, the day wasn’t that much of a loss. We got to have a nice, relaxed, dinner with our gracious hosts, caught up on some backlogged ride related work, and in reality it, the delay only set us back 1 day on our schedule, which hopefully we can regain once we hit the Midwest plains.

I don’t know that I’ll go out of my way to repeat it…, but when you ride 82 days across the country by bicycle, you’ve got to assume that you’re going have one or two days like this. – Ted

Day 44 – They bit you on your what?

OK, it’s official. No more bicycle rides at sunset. That’s when the mosquitoes come out to wreak their vengeance on unsuspecting cyclists along the side of the road.

I came to this decision as I rode along tonight – pressing on a few extra miles at the end of the day. Yesterday’s headwinds had put us almost a full day behind schedule and I thought it would be good to catch up a bit. And the early evening ride was indeed beautiful. Perfect weather and flat and smooth through the high desert backcountry on the road between Craig, Colorado and Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

But then, as the sun began to set, I felt them. They were crashing into my arms and legs as I rode past at 15 Miles per Hour. I decided that I’d best keep riding, so I wouldn’t give them a sitting target to bite (I know from experience – from multiple early evening flat tire fixes – how quickly the mosquitoes can get you this time of night.)

But then I had an even better idea. As I’d started the ride this morning, I’d packed my arm and leg warmers just in case we had another stormy day like yesterday. If I put them on quickly, they’d protect my arms and legs, eliminating bare skin and blocking out the mosquitoes’ dreaded bites.

Victory was mine!

(Yeah, right.)

Oh, the warmers worked just fine. They’re actually perfect for blocking out mosquito bites and such.

But as I got back on my bicycle and started to ride again – mosquitoes still bashing into me as I rode through them – I started to feel some distinct mosquito type itches… on, of all places, my BUTT.

That’s right, in the 2 minutes I’d stopped along the road, the herculean Colorado mosquitoes had found a way to bite me – on my butt – right through the fabric of my bicycle pants.

I had mosquito bites, on my BUTT!

That’s not fun…

Or Funny…

(OK, maybe it’s a little bit funny)

But it’s definitely not fun.

So from now on, its mosquito free daytime rides only for me.

And if it’s OK by you, I’m off to put some Calamine lotion on my butt
(You…, yes You…, over there…., I see you laughing, cut it out.)

From Mosquito Junction Colorado,
this is Ted Schneck (and his itchy butt)
saying good night from The Dog Cancer Ride Across America
www.DogCancerRide.com

Day 43: Cruising America at 4 Miles per Hour

Today was a slow day along the Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

There was plenty of stuff going on, mind you. Website updates, scheduling our first Radio interview in Craig, Colorado, contacting a bunch of online dog magazines to get online publicity, etc.

No, when I say slow, I mean SLOW. 4 MPH kind of slow.

I got on the bicycle late today (we did a lot of website work from our campgrounds this morning) and as we approached my start point for the day a nasty storm was brewing to the north. Black Clouds, Lightning and Thunder (oh, my).

Ian’s parting advice as I started the ride was “Ride fast, and maybe you can beat the storm.” I think he was right (the skies did look clearer up ahead) – but, unfortunately, fast was not an option today.

Because today was a day for climbing hills (we’re rising up as we approach the Rockies) and getting swallowed up by stormy 20 MPH headwinds. Believe me, when you’re riding a bicycle across America, the 2 things you don’t want to face are steep uphills and massive headwinds. Well today I got BOTH. Double Whammy. (At least it didn’t rain – luckily I managed to avoid the Triple Whammy)

The result, as you can see from the title of this post, was a lovely 4 MPH journey through the hills of Colorado. Less than ideas when you’ve got about 70 miles left to your scheduled destination.

On days like this, all you can do is bury your head and keep on peddling – one foot over the other – and hope you actually make some progress. Man those mile markers seen far away on days like today – normally I cross one every 3 – 4 minutes… today it seemed like hours (I think I could have walked faster during certain parts of the ride – where’s Dashiel when you need him…)

At any rate, I somehow managed to make it 40 miles for the day (way short of the 70 mile target I’d set for myself) before I started getting cold and tired (my legs turned to jello towards the end), so I called in my team to save me from the winds and the road. Tomorrow would be another day.

And speaking of tomorrow. Tomorrow we get to face the Greatest Challenge of the Ride so far.

Not the Rockies – those are coming soon but they should be easy compared to this challenge…

Tomorrow we have our First Dog Cancer Ride Across America On-Air Radio Interview.

What’s so challenging about that, you may be wondering. Well nothing really about the interview part (I’ve actually never done an in-studio radio interview so I’m really looking forward to it). The trouble is, the interview is scheduled for 7:00 AM!!!!! Now that’s cruel and unusual punishment for a group that tends to stay up late working on website updates until the wee hours of the morning (heck, we’ve actually had a few nights when we stayed up almost that late to launch an important update). But when it comes to getting publicity for the ride and the charities we’re riding for, you do what you have to do…

OK, I’m just kidding (sort of). But I do have to close out this post because for now, I’d better go and get some sleep.

Sweet dreams from Craig, Colorado, on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America

And we’ll see you on the morning show, Country 55 radio in Craig, Colorado.

Good night.

- Ted Schneck
dreaming of country music and studio headsets in Craig, Colorado
www.DogCancerRide.com

Day 42: The Worst Day of the Year

Back in college I took a dream New Year’s Eve ski vacation with my girlfriend into the mountains (that seems a bit of an understatement with the Rockies approaching over the next few days) of Pennsylvania. There was only one problem – we never made it to the ski resort. Seems my car decided to break down in the hills (now that’s more like it) of Pennsylvania and wouldn’t go any further without a new alternator (which was impossible to find on New Year’s Eve in the Poconos). Instead of our beautiful ski lodge with a hot tub, my girlfriend and I spent 3 nights at the Viking Inn Motel alongside a truck stop on Route 80 waiting for the holiday to end and the repair shops to reopen the following Monday. Needless to say it wasn’t my favorite vacation of all time.

Flash forward to today – the date is July 4^th 2008 and my assistant Ian is driving me back to the rest area where I ended yesterday’s ride (about 6 miles short of Vernal, Utah). And as we pull onto the dirt shoulder of the road, I look out of the window from the passenger seat – and I notice this HUGE pothole coming our way then BAM!!! – right through the pothole we ride… I half expected to hear our tire explode from the impact, but as we finish the u-turn to get me back to the ride start point I’m relieved that the car seems to have survived the impact.

As is our ritual, Ian jumps out of the car to take my bicycle off of bike carrier – only this time he jumps back into the car and shouts “Dammit – we busted our oil pan. There’s oil everywhere.”

Luckily(?) we’ve already had one engine die this trip from running out of oil so we IMMEDIATELY shut down the engine to make sure we don’t kill another. And as I surveyed the damage, you could see a line of oil where it had all drained out of the car.

Guess what Dog Cancer Ride Across America fans – We’re taking another ride in a Tow Truck!

(I’m thinking of renaming the ride “The Tow Truck Ride Across America” if our luck with cars doesn’t change soon…)

And now for the fun part. How do we get a 1994 Mercury Villager repaired in Vernal, Utah, at 1:00 PM on Friday, July 4^th (the Worst Day of the Year to find an auto mechanic shop open…)? And what’s the reservation number for the Viking Inn? Because it looks like it’s going to be a LOOONG weekend.

After about 45 minutes cursing our bad car luck, the tow truck driver arrives from AAA. A nice guy named Steve. And as he gets out of the truck, I jokingly ask – “So how are you at fixing broken Oil Pans?”

And to my surprise, he responds “Pretty good actually, what seems to be the problem”

Seems Steve was an auto mechanic before he started driving tow trucks, and knew his way around the engine of a car. And even better, after taking a look at the damage, he told us “Your oil pan’s fine – majorly dented but fine – the problem is your oil filter, that’s been smashed to bits… And you’re lucky you turned the car off right away – I think you saved the engine.”

Wow. For the first time in weeks it appears we actually had some GOOD car luck. Better still, the Wal-Mart in town (and their oil change/lube center) was open for a few more hours. So after a quick $30 oil change and filter replacement the car was back in business and good as new (we hope) except for the dent in the oil pan and instructions from the center manager to “stay away from potholes”.

Crisis averted – and we’re back on the road again!

The only ramifications, was that by time we got the car fixed and ready to be back on the road it was too late to ride out of town. So we checked into the local KOA campgrounds (with full wi-fi internet service, believe it or not) and enjoyed the town fireworks display from outside our tent.

All in all, this 4^th of July turned out to be a pretty good day.

From the KOA campgrounds in Vernal, Utah, this is Ted Schneck (relieved and ready to ride again) on the Dog Cancer Ride Across America

Bye for now…

…and we’ll see you down the road.

- Ted Schneck

Day 41: Hey Vernal

Duschene, Utah to Vernal, Utah

Another long hot day today.

Yesterday I “almost” made it to Duchesne (pronounced “Du – Shane”), Utah, after my massive hill climb (2,500 feet – yes, I am proud of myself). But alas, yet another of my now too frequent flat tires stopped me in my tracks about 5 miles short of Duchesne – so I decided to call it a day and start again after a good night’s rest (and a chance to repair the tire at our campgrounds, where we stopped for the night).

Well guess what, today about 2 miles past Duchesne – yup, another flat tire.

Obviously something is wrong with the new tire I recently put on – so this time I decided to change BOTH the front and back tires – and switch the new tire to my front wheel to hopefully stop the leakage. The good news is, it worked – for the most part (more about that later) – the bad news is, now I had to change TWO tires in the hot July 3^rd sun. And by time I’d finished fixing my wheels, I’d drained most of my water bottles – so back into Duchesne I went to restock for what was going to be a long hot day.

I actually had a nice visit back in Duchesne – stopped at Al’s Food Store (the one and only supermarket in Duchesne) and they were having holiday specials, hot dogs 3 for a dollar (I took one – 35 cents). And as I got to talking with the woman at the hot dog stand, Carol, it ends up she’s a cancer survivor and when she heard what we were doing she reached into her pocket and handed me a donation (as did another woman on line behind me). It was very sweet and heartwarming and lifted my spirits as I got back on the road.

The road itself was long and nice. I misplaced my flip video last night (found it later in Nikki’s bag – right where I’d left it) so I couldn’t record my ride, but there were some BEAUTIFUL landscapes as I rode on through. Especially this one HUGE valley at the bottom of a vast drop spread out beneath me… And another area where the rock walls that generally surround the Utah basin in these parts actually turned in towards the road and ended right at the foot of the road I was riding along… And finally, the painted red dirt hills of Utah as I made my way closer to Vernal.

As I rode through the town of Roosevelt on my way to Vernal I did pass one odd scene. I was passing through the Ute area (I’m pretty sure it’s an Indian reservation area) when I came across a dog laying dead along the side of the road… Then, a few hundred feet later, another dog lying on the shoulder. Now, when you bicycle cross country you come across a LOT of road kill along the way, but these were actually the first dogs I’d seen. And just a few hundred feet apart nonetheless. Something was going on here. About a quarter mile up the road I saw something that explained it all – 2 dogs on the far side of the 2 lane highway, neither with a collar on, both watching traffic and waiting for their chance to run across the street. It looked like two young children trying to figure out how to navigate through the traffic. By time I rode past, the first one had dodged traffic and made it through, and the second was waiting his turn, hoping not to get run over by the cars rushing past. I got the feeling a lot of dogs had made this run before, and unfortunately I’d come across 2 that hadn’t made it.

As I rode along, I said a little prayer for the safety of the dogs who cross the road and made my way into the sunset – towards our destination in Vernal…

That is, until about 5 miles outside of town when, you guessed it… ANOTHER flat tire made an early end to my day. Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to finish up today’s ride along The Dog Cancer Ride Across America.

From “almost” Vernal, Utah, this is Ted Schneck saying good night and Happy 4th of July, coming tomorrow.

- Ted Schneck
on The Dog Cancer Ride Across America
www.DogCancerRide.com