Bicycling has been a significant part of my life.
My first bike was a Western Auto Buzz Bike Eliminator, which was my birthday present when I turned eight. On my thirteenth birthday, I got my first ten-speed, a Graco GBX 1000. Both of those bikes opened a new world for me to explore. At first, I merely explored my immediate surroundings. I lived in a rural area, so riding around the block was a four-mile expedition—pretty heady stuff for a little kid.
As a teenager, I started developing headaches. Going for bike rides made them disappear, so I began to ride longer distances and explored even more. By age fifteen, I was riding 50-plus miles at a time.
In 1976, I was watching the Munich Olympics on TV, and by chance, the team pursuit was on. I was fascinated by the event, particularly with the precision involved between each rider on the team. From that point on, I knew I wanted to race bikes.
Shortly after that, I rode to a bike shop in a nearby town. The shop had several racing bikes, including a Motobecane Team Champion – a genuine Tour De France level racing bike. I ogled it along with the much nicer bikes than my toy store ten-speed. The shop manager struck up a conversation with me and discovered my interest in racing. She gave me a copy of the local racing club’s newsletter. The Dirty Derailleur. The masthead read, “The Official Organ of the Maumee Valley Wheelmen.” This was the moment I fell down the rabbit hole.
The following Spring, I entered my first bike race with the Wheelmen. It was a super tight criterium at the local fairgrounds. It didn’t go well. I was dropped almost immediately. The group was very friendly and encouraged me to join their weekend group rides. The upcoming weekend was a beginner’s course in bike racing that offered tips on riding in a group, pacelines, and drafting. That day, I met several riders who would become lifelong friends.
I joined the club and rode with them as often as possible. I took out a USCF racing license (United States Cycling Federation, the official governing body of bike racing, now known as USA Cycling) and entered my first race. The following year, I won the club time trial championship. Not bad for a Junior racer with only one season of racing.
As a senior (18-35 years old), I raced road, criteriums, and on the track. I moved up to the Category Two level. (At that time, racers were categorized by skill level, Category Four being the beginner level that all riders started at, and then, based upon skill and race results, were promoted, with Category One being the highest level). I was honored to have been invited and raced in the 1980 Olympic Trials in the road and time trial events. I was also invited to join the Schwinn Wolverine elite team. However, fate seemed to have a different plan.
I was an aspiring bike racer doing my routine Wednesday morning 50-mile training ride. Things were looking good that morning. I had just received a letter welcoming me to the Schwinn Wolverine elite team; I had (foolishly) turned down a full-ride athletic scholarship to the Claremont Colleges in California and was making plans with my cousin Aloise to move to Zurich (my grandfather is Swiss) and begin racing in Switzerland.
I was only about two miles from home, doing my routine Wednesday morning 50-mile tempo ride, when a car struck me. The police estimated that I was thrown about 100 feet, and the car was doing at least 60mph. My left leg was crushed. I had three broken bones (crushed tibia, fractured fibula, and a fractured first cervical rib), a concussion, and acres of road rash.
That car never stopped and the driver was never caught.
That “accident” changed everything.
After a bumpy ride in an ambulance, reconstructive surgery, being resuscitated after an embolism stopped my breathing, a week in ICU, and six months in a cast, I spent the next two years training to reclaim what I once had. Unfortunately, I had also sustained both nerve and muscle damage to the lower leg. I was never able to race at the same level. The doctors said that this would be permanent.
Later that summer, while I was still on crutches and sporting a mid-thigh-length plaster cast, I went to watch the Glass City Classic bike race, a criterium promoted by the Maumee Valley Wheelmen. Unbeknownst to me, my future wife saw me, and a year later, we had our first date. During that first date, as we shared stories and got to know each other, she realized that I was the guy she had seen that day at the bike race.
In May 1983, I quit racing. Thanks to a team of physical therapists, sports medicine doctors, and especially my orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Jim Gossman, who saved my leg from amputation, I was in the best shape of my life. Despite all of this, I was no longer competitive.
I carried a pretty big chip on my shoulder, and I was quite unpleasant at times. Then, I received a copy of Velo-News that contained a letter to the editor from Jocelyn Lovell. Jocelyn was a world-class rider from Canada that I had raced with a few times. I had finished third place in a sprint prime behind Jocelyn a few months before my accident. He had recently been hit by a dump truck and was now a quadriplegic. He mentioned how life wasn’t so bad. He got to stay home each day, watch TV, drink beer, and eat steak – through a straw.
Jocelyn’s words were startling. They woke me up. I literally had nothing to complain about. I was alive, and I could walk and even ride my bike. Even better, I had recently met the girl whom I would go on to marry. If I hadn’t been hit that day, I would have moved away and never met Rita. I didn’t realize it then, but the morning that I was hit by the car, I had just won the best prize ever. I still have a heart-shaped scar from that crash that I swear was a sign to me of better things to come.
Since then, I have married, opened and operated two bike shops, returned to college, and changed careers. I still ride my bike, but not nearly as much, and like so many other people, I have gained weight and lost my fitness.
One day, some friends commented on my weight at a Wheelmen club ride a few years ago. Jokingly, I told them I was a mere 60 pounds over race weight. The reaction was mixed between laughter and shock.
Not long after that, I moved to Traverse City, Michigan. In contrast to southeast Michigan and Northwest Ohio, the Traverse City area is very hilly. My excess weight became a huge liability. I was annoyed with myself for having gotten to this point. I had lost my self-discipline and was suffering on every climb. It was time to change.
Interestingly (at least to me), forty years later, out of the blue, I have recently regained some additional feeling in my leg and some muscle gains as some nerves appear to be regenerating after all these years.
I set a few weight loss goals and increased my riding distance and volume. The weight began to come off slowly, but it has been a struggle. Cycling again has become enjoyable.
I have set a few specific riding goals, including racing once again. I aim to get into better shape for the health benefits and to achieve personal riding goals.
A few of my goals are:
- Lose 25 plus pounds to reach 10-12% body fat.
- To ride Michigan Mountain Mayhem, a 68-mile ride with 4,600 feet of climbing, including a three-mile climb with 12-18% pitches.
- To ride Old Fall River Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. This 45 mile ride has an 8-mile climb with 3000 feet of vertical gain and finishes at 11,796 feet.
- Race in the Grattan road race series, Maumee Valley Wheelmen Race series, Waterford Summer Race Series, and the Michigan Senior Games.
2024 will be an interesting adventure. Stay tuned for updates on my quest to become healthier, fitter, and happier.