Wednesday, July 09, 2003

(Click on envelope for e-mail – go to http://olympia.thebeaconjournal.com/odyssey/ for new stories added to the Odyssey page)   I took my own digital camera on the trip, but abandoned using it after a couple of days. There were too many other things to juggle, and besides, I had a professional photographer at my side – didn’t see a lot of need for my snapshots.   Now I wish I had kept snapping. Denny Gordon (photog) will be giving me a set of photos for my personal album, but, until then, I have to rely on my memory. Already, things are starting to fade. I just flipped through the online photo album - http://hogan.ohio.com/ohio/odyssey/album/ - and relived some of the fun days. But, there was so much more.   Jan Leach, the Beacon Journal’s former editor and the person who first suggested a bike trip, e-mailed me today. She suggested a book. Many have encouraged us to do just that.   I may try to do a book, even if it means one copy just for me. When I’m old and gray … ok, when I’m old … ok, when I’m older than I already am, I can sit in my chair, page through my book of memories and remember the 20 days of the Ohio Odyssey.   Others have suggested breaking the Odyssey into 3 weeklong sections and doing one every year … and inviting others to ride along. Yea, you bike riders know where that’s going. I think Ohio already has a terrific annual weeklong ride in GOBA, and I have no desire to get into the bike-trip business.   I really need to mention two people before I go any further in this blog. There were two people whose incredible generosity made the last two days of the trip infinitely more enjoyable.   On Thursday, we had a fellow rider for most of the day. Wiley Dixon rode the 40 miles from Coshocton to New Philadelphia. He was a delightful riding companion. Wiley (named after Wiley Post) heard about the Odyssey through long-distance bike riding circles and thought it might be fun to ride along. In fact, he thought he’d be one of a large group accompanying us. That actually never developed like we thought it might.   Anyway, Wiley arranged to come along and then discovered a strange coincidence. He has applied to the same aviation missionary maintenance organization as our host for the night, Brian Pottinger. Wiley knew some of the same people as Brian, but they did not know each other and Wiley didn’t know where I was staying Wednesday night. Very odd.   Anyway, that’s not why I need to thank Wiley. In a generous offer, Wiley’s wife drove the van from Coshocton to New Philadelphia. There’s more. So that his wife could get back to Coshocton, a friend of theirs also made the drive in a separate car. That was so helpful.   Then, on Friday, Jack Kindelberger did the same thing with the Mount Eaton to Akron segment. Jack and his wife drove from Glenmont in Tuscarawas County to Mount Eaton, picked up my van, and drove separately to Akron. Then they returned to Glenmont in their car.   This was July 4th. This took a chunk out of their holiday. They did it happily, without any need for payback or anything like that. Sooo generous.   Jack also arranged the stay with the Yoders on Thursday night. That was a lot of trouble, seeing as many residents of Mount Eaton still remember an article from the Beacon Journal from 10 years ago in which the writer called it a “hick town” – repeatedly. But Jack found us a great family, which led to an interesting experience.   To both Jack and Wiley – my most-heartfelt thanks.   To everyone else – thanks for coming along for the ride.   (I’ll be writing more in this blog in the coming days and weeks.) 4:31:58 PM

Saturday, July 05, 2003

(Send e-mail by clicking on the envelope at left – read complete stories by going to www.ohio.com and following the links.)   I had every intention of writing in the blog last night, except, well, you know what happened, don’t you? After writing my newspaper story and then my online story, I decided to take a brief break on the sofa. Twelve hours later, I am resuming the task, the better for having slept off much of the fatigue from the past 20 days.   I’ve thought a lot about fatigue, and I’ve probably written too much about it. On the one hand, for a desk jockey like me, going out and riding my bicycle for 4-5 hours each day and then doing journalism for another 10 hours each day was difficult. At age 51, I had settled into a comfortable lifestyle, one that rarely pushed me either physically or mentally. This 20-day trip ripped me right out of my routine.   So this trip was a significant change for me and my tired old body. I think perhaps the most frustrating thing for me was that the creative part of each day – the period from 5-to-8 p.m. when I would be writing – was also the time when I was most fatigued. I had many good things to say, but often I struggled to find the right words.   All of that said, who am I to complain? There are lots of people who work long days and never complain about it. For some reason, every time I found myself feeling sorry for myself I kept thinking of the soldiers in Iraq, spending a month of sleeping on the ground under the stress of war. The soldiers – and the reporters and photographers covering them – now they have long and difficult days, not me.   Anyway, it’s now over. I think back to last summer when I first starting planning this adventure. By last September I had the route all figured out and it’s remarkable how little it changed over the months. I can safely say that this trip dominated my life in big and small ways for an entire year.   There were many times when I didn’t think it would happen. When editor Jan Leach quit the paper in February, I gave it less than a 50 percent chance. She was the one who first suggested a bike-trip project and was the champion of it through a difficult financial budgeting process. With her gone, I was left alone to fight through all the many – and I do mean many – obstacles. Think about it from the perspective of your own experiences. What usually happens to the boss’s pet projects when the boss walks out the door?   Then there were other, more recent, obstacles set before us – placed there by well-intentioned people, many of them people I call friends. From their own, extremely narrow perspective, they thought they were doing the right thing. They ended up making the hill that much more higher to climb – and thus made it that much more satisfying to reach the summit.   They were offset by the dozens – make that hundreds – of people who offered encouragement and assistance both before and during the journey. So many people – some of them friends and some of them total strangers – took their time, effort and money to help make this project happen.   One of the best decisions about the trip, and one of the most difficult to arrange, was the notion that we would spend our overnights with local families. Not just anywhere, but these would have to be people who lived in the 19 places we would be ending up at each night. It turned out to be a great decision to do this. We learned so much from our wonderful hosts; they enriched the experience in so many ways. I now believe I have a network of new friends, scattered across the state. How does one calculate the value of something like that?   Those overnight accommodations happened because friends and acquaintances vouched for us with their friends. That took a lot of trust and effort – for which I am grateful.   I’m sure I’ll have more reflections on this journey in the coming days and weeks, which I intend to share with you in the blog. For right now, here are some random thoughts.   I wish I had researched architecture a little more. Upon launch, I had little idea of what I would encounter along the way. Turns out, much of Ohio is really old and the preservation – or lack of preservation – of the old houses and buildings became one of the ongoing themes. I would have taken two of everything electronic – computers, modems, digital camera card readers, you name it. Our point of most vulnerability came at the end of each day when we were never really sure the fruits of our efforts would make it back to the newspaper or to online. I would have packed less. We did laundry every other day – thus, only two days worth of clothing were needed. I had a whole crate of books and Website printouts that I never had time to look at.   That reminds me of an e-mail that I received from Sam Johnson, who I believe lives in the United Kingdom, based on his e-mail address. Anyway, Sam suggested the trip would have been much better accomplished by car, instead of by bike. That way, he said, we would have had more time to go to museums and to check out local historical sites, instead of spending so much time and effort on the bike.   My answer to Sam goes to the heart of this project. This trip was NOT about places, despite the context of traveling around Ohio. We strongly wanted to tell the story of Ohio through people – ordinary people. The kind of people who would see two tired and sweaty bike riders approach them with a request for five minutes and would then gladly give them an hour.   We also wanted to slow down the world by moving through it at the speed of bicycles. You’ll have to believe me on this, Sam, but you see a lot more – more details, more little things that indicate the presence of interesting people – from the perspective of a slow-moving bike.   I truly believe it would have been a totally different experience, and thus a different story, had this been done by car. Besides, the Beacon Journal has sent reporters and photographers out by car around Ohio countless times. I wanted this to be different.   I should say “we” wanted this to be different. Throughout the arduous process, I had a partner who provided numerous suggestions and observations that inevitably turned out to be not only helpful, but in many cases essential to the success of the project. Photographer Dennis Gordon and I were on the same page throughout. When no one believed, he did. When no one understood what we were trying to do, he did. On those hot humid days out in the middle of nowhere when I just couldn’t pedal up another hill – he did. He and I will share memories – of some things I could never write about – for the rest of our lives.   Finally, this was a personal journey of discovery for me. By far, this was the biggest, most complicated, most difficult thing I had ever set out to do. It became a personal challenge, a quest, to see whether it could be done. And I’m really not talking about the bike riding part, the project planning or even the 20 consecutive days of writing. This was about going out on a long and narrow limb, with no safety net, and challenging yourself to not only make it back safely, but to skip along on that limb with confidence and style. That was my goal. And, you know what, I did it. I really did it.   If there is anyone out there who harbors a desire to do something big, who isn’t sure whether the time is right or whether you have what it takes to do it, here is my advice. It isn’t about the destination – it’s all about the journey. You won’t regret the effort; you’ll regret only the lack of trying. Do it. Do it now, before it’s too late. 8:12:01 AM

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

(click on envelope at left for e-mail - go to www.Ohio.com for longer stories.) Tonight we are in Coshocton, home of Roscoe Village and Whitewoman Road. Don’t know the background of Whitewoman Road, but I do know about Wayne’s. That’s the local homemade ice cream place and I can personally attest to the quality of the ice cream.   Today was really rugged, with many excellent hills to climb and vistas to admire – well, at least when the sweat wasn’t blinding us. Gotta love that humidity. Actually, we’ve been doing the majority of the riding before the worst heat of the day.   Tonight we are staying at the home of Brian and Tricia Pottinger, a nice young couple who are training to become missionaries. Akron residents until two years ago, the Pottingers are in Coshocton while Brian completes his apprenticeship to be a licensed airplane pilot/mechanic. With that in hand, he will join a missionary organization somewhere in the world where his flying/fixing skills can be used. The Pottingers are affiliated with The Chapel, in Akron.   If you think about it, this makes sense. In much of the world – Africa, South America, Central America – it makes more sense to use a plane to get in and out of remote areas. Brian and Tricia will be helping religious and humanitarian aid organizations in some faraway place by this time next year. Interesting people.   Tonight I’ll be sleeping in the bed normally used by one of their daughters, who is away at camp. Last night I slept in the top bunk of a kid’s bunk bed. When you are as tired as I’ve been lately, it really doesn’t matter where you sleep. I could probably fall asleep on this kitchen chair.   Tomorrow night, we sleep in the home of David Yoder, of Mount Eaton. Dennis and I will be “the English,” as they say in Witness. It’s doubtful that I will file anything for this blog tomorrow night, but I will write something Friday night after returning to Akron.   I've been getting lots of encouraging e-mail from my friends on the Virtual Readers Network. Thanks for being so supportive. (The Pottingers, mentioned above, are friends of VRNer Larry Kolb of Hudson).   Several of you have asked for me to share how I'm feeling when I'm riding and what I'm thinking - especially now after 18 days. It's odd. I have a lot of mixed emotions. On the one hand, I'm really tired - way beyond the point of fatigue. On the other hand, I fully realize how truly fortunate I am to be doing this adventure and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.   When I'm riding, the heat and muscle strain sometimes do get to me. I've been stopping a lot these past few days for water and rest breaks. On the other hand, I'm working on this trip. By the end of the day, not only do I have to complete my miles, but I have to have a story to tell. I have to speak to enough interesting people to yield anecdotes that you will want to read.   There's a lot of pressure to produce there. So, when I'm riding, I'm doing two things. Most of the time, I'm looking for someone to interview or looking for interesting detail along the way. Other times I'm thinking about how I'm going to present to you in words the interview or experience I've just completed.   This morning I spent about 45 minutes with "that crazy bird man" - you'll have to read the next story to understand. I spent the next hour on the road constructing the story in my head - stopping twice to write down notes of what I was thinking.   In other words, I am totally focused on the journalism from 6 a.m. until 10 or 11 p.m. I just don't have the time or the energy to think deep and profound thoughts about life in general.   I suspect when I return to the routine of living, I might look back and arrive at some insight about the trip. For right now, it's all about the work.   And, once again, thanks for coming along for the ride. 10:15:03 PM

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

Here's an e-mail from someone who clicked on the yellow envelope: Clare Blashford [1] sent this email to you through the Salon.com [2] community server, re this page [3]. Not sure if this is the best way to contact you regarding your biking travel, but I'll try anyways. I've thoroughly enjoyed reading of your and Dennis' adventures. It's a great way for Ohio readers to learn little snippets of what makes up our State.  I look forward to reading them daily and will hate to see it end.  Todays article (Tuesday July 1) cracked me up with "time to leave, banjos strumming..." Some things I've wondered: How did you and Dennis train to endure so much pedalling? Were the routes you have been traveling on pre-driven by automobile ahead of time to see if they were conducive to biking? How do you manage to find places to visit in the various towns, meet people, and eat or are you just winging it along the way? Are you 2 really sore and popping Advil every night? And finally, though this may not be the best time to ask, knowing what you both know now, would you do it all again? By bike? If it's any consolation, you have readers who admire what you 2 are doing.  If we had the ability, time, childcare, financing, days off of work, etc., many of us would love to do what you're doing now.  It's neat to take the trip vicariously.  Thanks for your efforts and excellent communication means with us.  Feather in your caps, boys. Thank you for the e-mail Clare. Here are some answers: 1. Denny runs marathons and is a super athlete, despite his 55 years. I went down to the Akron YMCA - oh, a few times - and convinced myself I could do this. I was wrong. Nothing prepares you for something like this. Turns out, I think we have become stronger on the bike as the 20 days moved along. However, we still think the highest hills are in front of us. 2. I planned all 20 legs of this trip using a Road Atlas Gazetteer. Then, over the winter, I drove about 10 of the legs. The others were sight-unseen. 3. We are winging it - completely. We have no prearranged interviews at all. I walk up to people and use my charm. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But, seriously, a lot of people feel sorry for two sorry-and-sweating looking guys getting off bicycles. They usually start asking us questions before I can ask them questions. For 15 of the 20 overnight stops, we are staying in private homes (or churches, read below). Those were arranged ahead of time. 4. Neither Denny or I use much in the way of pain-relievers. We drink lots of water and snack frequently throughout the day to keep our energy up. Denny had a slight problem with ... uh, saddle sores early on, but Neosporin Pain Relief did the trick. 5. Would we do it all again? Hmmm, good question. Knowing what I know now, I would certainly agree to do it - if it were for the first time. I'm not sure I'm willing to do this a second time. But, only time will tell. Finally, Clare, thank you very, very much for the final paragraph. I just showed it to Denny and we both were quite happy to see that others are sharing our adventure. 10:31:56 PM

(Click on envelope on the left to send e-mail – go to www.Ohio.com and follow the links for the longer Web stories.)   Wasn’t able to write in my blog last night. Know why? No telephone line.   Actually, Monday night’s accommodations were very nice – we slept on the floor of the Trinity United Methodist Church in Chillicothe. More precisely, it was the Youth Room, which included a small office, a kitchen, a big-screen TV and two large couches. The only thing it didn’t have was a telephone line.   For us to send out stories and photos, we must have a dedicated phone line. The church was wired for a multi-line telephone system, which doesn’t work for us. Normally our next option would be a fax line. Except the church did not have a fax machine.   As a result, we went back to the home of Stephen Steele, one of our interview subjects from earlier in the day. He allowed us to use his phone line, but I didn’t want to tie up his phone any longer than it took to send my stories to the Beacon Journal.   Incidentally, talk about serendipity, Steele was randomly selected for the interview simply because he was out working in the yard of his beautiful 150-year-old home. Turns out, he owns 17 bicycles, including a “big wheel,” the kind of bike used back in the 1800s. I had never seen one before and it was really quite interesting. I don’t know how people managed to ride them, given the state of the roads back then.   Well, I almost bought the farm yesterday morning. I was riding alone up state Route 104 (Denny had gone back for the van) when I noticed an interesting situation developing in the oncoming lane. A slow moving delivery truck was being passed by a semi, both of them coming at me. I’m on the far edge of the 30-inch berm.   As I saw the semi coming at me, I figured it would have plenty of time to pull over before reaching me. What I didn’t see until it was too late and panic had set in was the second semi following very closely behind the first semi.   That semi was giving a wide berth to the small truck he was passing – so wide that he was over the edge line on my side of the road – and he didn’t see me at all. Can you imagine a semi-tractor-trailer zooming at you in a situation like this?   Looking back, I should have been smart and simply dumped my bike into the weeds and rocks on the side of the road. Instead, I held on for dear life. That truck came within a whisper of hitting me.   Well, there’s not much suspense here because obviously I survived. But it was my most harrowing experience on a bike in many a year. I’m still not sure why the tremendous draft from the truck didn’t blow me right off the road. I might actually have been flying for a few feet.   This morning, again, I was riding ahead while Denny went back to get the van. But, after waiting at the designated meeting spot for 45 minutes, I knew there was a problem. Even if Denny had had a flat tire, there was no way he would be this late.   We were on state Route 159 coming out Chillicothe and the truck traffic was incredible. A large truck every 30 seconds, at least. If any of you readers are bike riders, don’t ever take 159. I had made it about 22 miles to Tarlton on that terrible road and I really didn’t want to turn around and go back.   But, that’s what I did. About 10 miles back I met up with Denny in the van. Turns out, he did have a flat tire. Then, after putting on his spare tube, he had a second flat tire. After patching the original tire, he took off again … and had a third flat tire. Suffice to say, he was quite tired of fixing flats after that.   Speaking of tired, I have to tip my helmet to Denny. I’m carrying very little with me on the bike. Denny is carrying a 13-pound backpack, which includes his camera and three lenses. It’s a great backpack, but on a hot and humid day like today, I’m not sure I know how he does it. I was barely able to survive today’s humidity.   Tonight, however, we were able to relax on Buckeye Lake. Our host, Ron Van Atta, took us for a tour of the lake on his pontoon boat. This is a lake with a lot of history. Talk about local lore.   He’s also putting us up in his incredible home. Ron owns funeral homes in Newark and surrounding communities, though he’s lived on the lake full-time for the past 6 years. Very, very nice home.   He also has two huge Dobermans. We had to laugh, even though the dogs were friendly to the point of being affectionate to us, Ron told us later that his dogs absolutely hate bicycles. One time they attacked a bike (unoccupied at the time) and ripped the tires right off the rims.   Ron, who appears to be about 65 or 70, has done a like of bicycle riding around Ohio and England. I continue to be amazed at the kindness of strangers – people willing to put up with a couple of smelly riders who take over a house with computer equipment, cameras, clothing, etc. Right now, Denny is doing our laundry in the Van Atta’s washer and dryer. We’ve really been treated royally wherever we have gone.   Finally, I will admit to you that fatigue is starting to be a factor – but not with the bike riding. Were we only riding the bikes 50 miles a day, this would be a snap. It’s the interviewing, writing and photographing that is getting increasingly difficult. Maintaining the kind of energy level needed to do a good job journalistically is tough to do for so many days in a row.   Looking back, I would do two things differently. First, I would know more about architecture before starting out. Second, I would have scheduled a rest day or two in the middle of the trip.   Mind you, I’m not complaining. I continue to be thrilled at my good fortune to be able to do such a project. Without question, this has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience.   Oh, I almost forgot. My third and final live interview on WCPN in Cleveland is scheduled for Wednesday morning at around 7:45.   I hope to write more tomorrow. Thanks for coming along for the ride. 10:08:41 PM

Sunday, June 29, 2003

(Click on the yellow envelope for e-mail, go to www.ohio.com and follow the links for stories) On the road again ... here I am in Portsmouth after rejoining the Ohio Odyssey late last night. The flights from Dallas had me in Columbus around 8 last night and it was 11 by the time I pulled in Huntington, our overnight stay across the river from Chesapeake. Today we rode to Portsmouth and I have to say it was depressing. That strip of highway - especially the 10 miles going into Portsmouth - is really wretched. I always look for the good things to say about a city. If Portsmouth didn't have the murals, it wouldn't have anything at all. During the flight back, I couldn't help think about the differences in high altitude travel versus ground-level travel. In the air, all you hear is the roar of the jet engines and the rush of air. On the ground, you hear the birds sing. In the air, you feel the gentle vibrations of the plane. On the ground, you have a direct connection to the earth and feel every jolt and jostle. In the air, you have idle chatter with the person in the seat next to you - that is, until the captain says you can turn on some electrical devices and then everyone retreats into the solitude of their CD-players. On the ground, you meet new people and can talk at length with the people with whom you are riding. The air offers air-conditioned comfort, but no sense of self-propulsion, a much more gratifying, though sweat producing, experience. Besides, the reprocessed environment clogs your senses anyway. On the ground, even the farm fields smell lush. At 33,000 feet, the ground is a jigsaw puzzle of various geometric shapes - houses are dots, roads are lines, forests and lakes are splashes of green and blue on a canvas of brown. On the ground, they are real. No, give me my aluminum steed, give me the sun on my face and the strain of muscle, give me all the sensory highs and lows - any day, any time. Of course, looking down on the puffy white clouds, now that's cool. Tonight we're staying at a Holiday Inn. Our connection in Portsmouth never answered his phone today and so we found another place to stay. Finding a decent restaurant in Portsmouth ... well, don't get me started on Portsmouth again, what a wretched place.   10:00:54 PM

Saturday, June 28, 2003

(Click on envelope for e-mail and go to www.ohio.com for the complete stories) Well, it's now 2:25 a.m. and I'm sitting in the luxurious Fairmount Hotel in downtown Dallas. These sports guys really know how to live. Tomorrow night I'll be returning to the Ohio Odyssey and I can hardly wait to get back on the bike. We had to have an abbreviated day of riding today because of my schedule. We started out early, really early, from Marietta, but pulled up around 11:30, which is when I needed to start writing Saturday's stories in time to drive to Columbus .... well, you get the picture. Actually, this morning's ride was very interesting. I had never been down to "the boot" - state Route 124 south of Route 7. Very different kind of place down there. More West Virginia than Ohio, actually. Anyway, thanks for sticking with the Ohio Odyssey - 13 days completed and 7 to go. There will be no blog tomorrow night - make that tonight - Saturday night, again, because of this trip to Dallas. 2:29:47 AM

Thursday, June 26, 2003

What a gorgeous ride this morning down route 800. Absolutely beautiful and the hills were breathtaking - the kind of ride a person experiences only rarely. To be totally honest, the hills weren't all that bad. Maybe 12 consecutive days of riding will do that for you. Though, those 12 days didn't help in the last 10 miles into Marietta. It was unbelievably hot and those last few miles are a concrete jungle, with Interstate 77 creating a long strip of fast-food restaurants and complicated lane-changes. I was very glad to make it into the old downtown area. That's where we are staying tonight - the historic Lafayette Hotel. I'll say this about the place, it sure is old. Actually, there really is a strong sense of history in Marietta - even the young desk clerks admitted they have new respect for history after working in the hotel. Tomorrow we ride early, so that I can hustle off to Columbus, catch an evening plane to Dallas, speak at the Associated Press Sports Editors conference, jump back on a plane to Columbus and then drive to Huntington, W.Va., where I will meet up with Denny the photog again. And then, Sunday morning, we're on the road again. I hope you'll still be with us. 10:33:18 PM

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

(Click on envelope for e-mail, go to www.ohio.com and follow the links for the full stories.) We took a ride in the van tonight and previewed tomorrow's route. It's going to be a tough one, perhaps the most difficult section of the entire Ohio Odyssey. We're hoping we can beat the heat by getting a really early start in the morning. At one point this afternoon, I stopped at a little convenience shop for a cold drink - sweat literally dripping off me. "Hot out there," he asked. "Uh, yea," I answered. "They say it's 100 out there." "Uh, yea, I believe it is." Well, it really wasn't 100 degrees. It's just a matter of getting into a good rhythm when doing the long climbs. The heat does sort of zap you of the strength in your legs, however. Has anyone been listening to WCPN - the Cleveland public radio station? I had a long interview with their morning announcer, Rick Jackson, this morning. This was the second of three live interviews related to the bike trip. The last one will be Wednesday morning at about 7:45 a.m. Oh, we had another interesting experience. The local newspaper in Woodsfield sent a reporter out to interview us and take photos. It was fun being on the other side of the questions. I'm not sure when I'll be able to post another item to this blog. As a few of you have heard, I'll be leaving the Ohio Odyssey for about 30 hours - From Friday afternoon to Saturday evening. I was asked to speak at a national conference for newspaper sports editors and, unfortunately, I agreed. Do you want to guess my topic? LEBRON! Yea, they want me to tell a room of 200 sports editors that there can be too much of a good thing when it comes to covering a big local sports story. After I get boo'd out of the conference, I return to the peace of bike riding. Anyway, that means flying to Dallas Friday evening, speaking on Saturday morning and then flying back to Ohio right away. On Saturday, photographer Dennis Gordon will do both the photos and the words - along with riding the route himself. Wish him luck. Meanwhile, thanks for coming along for the ride. 10:15:16 PM

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

(Click on the envelope to send an e-mail - go to www.ohio.com and follow the links to http://olympia.thebeaconjournal.com/odyssey/ for the complete Odyssey stories.) I'm sorry there was no blog last night. Actually, I tried to write one, but it wouldn't upload. This one will be short since I don't know whether this one will go. Incidentally, if you want to read about my experience of riding a tandem with a blind stoker, go to the Odyssey web page (above). I really had a fantastic time. Well, tonight we are staying at the home of Rev. Scott Low, a Methodist minister whose contact was made through Karen Hartley of the Virtual Readers Network. Scott is a great guy. His house is a real trip. Scott and his wife Kay, a special education teacher, have three kids - looking around the house, there is no doubt about it. Somehow I thought ministers lived differently than everyone else, but no, this is just the normal clutter of three kids. Kay and the kids are away, so Scott, Denny and I have the house to ourselves. Actually, Scott is out playing in a church softball league. He's been a super host. So was Bill Ostrander, with whom we stayed Monday night. Actually, Bill's wife also was away, so we had his house to ourselves also. Hmmm, do the wives leave everytime I come to town? Bill is a former resident of Medina who moved to the Columbus area a couple of months. Bill used to take a lot of my money in our weekly poker game, so I was kinda happy to see him move. He grilled hamburgers and we had a great time looking out on Hoover Reservoir from his beautiful home. Well, to get to a serious topic, I need to mention the heat. Today was absolutely brutal. Not only was it very, very hot, but we've finally entered the hills. After nine days of completely flat terrain, we are starting the hilly stretch. Tomorrow we head south to Woodsfield and then Thursday we keep going south until we reach the Ohio River. These two days will be difficult. Still, I'm not complaining. We have yet to get rained on in any significant way, so that's certainly something to be thankful for. Anyway, thanks for reading this - and for coming along for the ride. 10:20:51 PM

Monday, June 23, 2003

Ok, I admit, my knees were shaking. I was gripping the handlebars so hard, my right hand went numb. Cotton mouth describes perfectly the feeling in my mouth.   What made me so anxious? Well, Monday night I captained a tandem bike for the first time. Fortunately, I had a great partner in Mary Hiland, my stoker, the person who rides in back.   Oh, by the way, Mary is totally blind.   I need not have worried so much; it turned out to be an exhilarating experience.   When Mary heard about the Ohio Odyssey, our 20-day bicycle adventure around the state, she sent an e-mail and asked whether I wanted to ride with her and some of her bike-club friends. She said it would be a learning experience I would not soon forget. She was right.   Still, after riding more than 40 hot miles during the day and then writing my daily stories for the Akron Beacon Journal, I was tired and cranky. Ok, I’ll go so far as to say I thought about canceling. After all, climbing aboard a bike with a person I didn’t know in unfamiliar riding territory – that didn’t sound too appealing to me.   But, a commitment is a commitment, so photographer Dennis Gordon and I drove out to Hoover Reservoir where we met up with Mary and her friends.   I quickly learned the three rules of tandem riding with a blind person: communication, communication, communication. I’m told that tandem riding with a sighted person requires a high degree of teamwork. With a blind person, every move, every turn, every stop, everything must be forewarned and described in detail.   Just getting started was a challenge. After taking a spin around the parking lot by myself to get a feel for the tandem, I pulled up next to Mary and told her to hop on. Well, not really. At this point I was near hyperventilation with anxiety. You see, when you pilot a tandem with a blind person you accept total responsibility for the safety of both people.   Talk about guts. Mary didn’t know me from Adam, yet she was willing to put all her trust in me. As she described it, “If I don’t trust, I don’t ride.” And Mary loves to ride.   So, on command, I gave a great push off with my left foot and we went about 10 feet before stumbling to a stop. That was not promising. We backed up the bike and received more instructions from the friends. This time I really pushed off and so did Mary. And so did one of the friends running along side in back, just like dads do with their kids. This time we rolled.   For the first few miles, I barked out everything I was doing, even the obvious. “I’m pedaling, Mary, I’m pedaling. I’m still pedaling.” That was unnecessary. However, loud, clear announcements were essential at every turn and every stop. With the turns, Mary needed to know which way to lean. With the stops, she needed to know when to step off. Soon, the bike-riding part became natural, almost easy. At that point I started to describe the surroundings, seeing things in exquisite detail – the better for sharing with Mary.   At one point I described the sky as clear and deep blue. Then, like many sighted people around the blind, I thought I goofed. How would Mary know blue? No problem, she said. Now 58, Mary started losing her sight at age 8, giving her memories from childhood. “Blue is my favorite color,” she said.   After a while, even the necessary announcements became automatic. I started to relax and we began talking about her job – she manages 250 volunteers for the Columbus organization that reads for the blind – and other parts of our lives. Mary has done GOBA, the Great Ohio Bicycle Adventure, three times – including once with a different captain each of the seven days. She’s been riding for 10 years.   She asked me a lot of questions about my job and admitted she had an ulterior motive for asking me on the ride. People needed to know that bike riding not only is possible for blind people, but it’s great exercise and a lot of fun, she said. The only problem is more sighted people are needed for piloting.   Maybe I could spread that word, she suggested coyly. Don’t worry, Mary, I understood from the start why you wanted to do this, I replied.   Then, something magical happened. We were riding down a shady lane that suddenly opened up into bright sunshine. “Ah,” said Mary, “I love to feel the warmth of the sun.”   Then, a bit later, she said, “Can you smell that. It’s almost like someone is burning something in the fireplace. I love to ride in the fall when people use their fireplaces.”   That’s when I fully relaxed. I stopped worrying about the terrible burden of responsibility. This was turning out to be like most bike rides on a pleasant summer evening down a tranquil country road. This was fun. Mary was enjoying herself. And so was I.   10:10:01 PM

© Copyright 2003 Mike Needs.