Emboldened by her/our previous successful excursions, Mrs. P2MP suggested we could load up and head for the city, utilizing the generally flat riverfront portion of the Capital Area Greenbelt. This seemed like quite reasonable, and so off we went.
We parked at City Island, easily found parking (the minor-league Harrisburg Senators were not playing this day), got ourselves set up and rolled out. City Island is a pleasant place to visit, in general. Pedaling around is a nice warm-up, and was really what Mrs. was interested in, just wanting to get her riding skills polished. She is not, and likely will not be, an open road rider, but this little loop offers a litte more than just a rail-trail.
After a couple of laps, casually moving around pedestrians, runners/joggers, other cyclists, Mrs. indicated her confidence level was high enough to ride across the Walnut St Bridge and head up the riverfront path. The Walnut St. Bridge is its own sort of challenge for the senses. You can find a little more about its history here. Suffice to say, it is a pedestrian/non-motor vehicle span that connects City Island to downtown Harrisburg proper, connecting directly to the aforementions Greenbelt. There are a couple of road crossings along this route that require greater attention due to crosswalk alignment and traffic flow, but they are manageable.
We easily slow-rolled our way out to the trail/road crossing that continues the Greenbelt path on its way deeper into and around the city. Mrs. was not feeling like that was something she wished to try, and that’s quite alright with me. We stopped at the end of the asphalt for a quick water break and stretch before heading back toward City Island.
The return trip was a smooth and gentle cruise. The trail wasn’t particularly busy, and it is always relaxing just seeing the river flowing by. It was such a beautiful evening, and it was a bit of a surprise that we rolled up 10 miles. Mrs. P2MP was quite pleased with her effort and experience, and Lazarus continued to ease toward retirement.
Mrs. P2MP has a much more casual pursuit to cycling than I. She is not comfortable at all with open-road riding. But, thanks to a great experience on Indiana’s Cardinal Greenway a few years ago, she will indulge a short rail-trail ride every now and then.
I had recently done some Spring maintenance on her bike (another “no Shizznazz” member of our bike collection), and finally got her a helmet. We were set to go. Based on my exploration, she was willing to try out the Cumberland Valley trail Lazarus and I had recently done.
We started with the expectation of not doing the whole trail, which was just fine. One of the many benefits of riding with her is it forces me to “slow my roll” (as the youth have been known to say), and simply enjoy being out.
New Bike had no business being on this ride, so Lazarus got the call. When we arrived and unloaded, a maintenance crew was doing something undefined right at the trailhead. They instructed that we could ride through the grass along the side until we were clear of their work area.
Sounded fine. Then, we actually tried to do that. Toughest. Grass. Evah. Like the blades of grass that refuse to bend in C. S. Lewis’ “The Great Divorce.”* So tough, Mrs. P2MP’s ride, with trail-appropriate tires had a tough slog. The effort seemed extraordinary.
But, we persevered, got back on the trail and had a wonderful, relaxing day out. We took in the sights and smells. There were actually sections where the wild honeysuckle overcame the farming aromatics!
We had one moment of awkward terror/humor. Of course, when one traverses paths through nature, the possibility of encountering inhabitants of the local environs rises considerably. As we made our way southwestward, a small dark shape was discerned on the edge of the trail, in the distance ahead. Certain it was either: a) imagination, or b) something that would scurry in a hurry, we rolled on. As we approached, however, the shape defined itself as a young/small groundhog, out foraging. Cute little critter that I did not manage a photo of. Mrs. P2MP was (still is) convinced it was the “Groundhog of Death.”
Our furry friend had moved on when we returned that way. No other incidents to report.
This leg of the “End of the Road” Tour is in the books as a success. Lazarus rolls on.
Despite having “New Bike” at the ready, I again took advantage of a non-workday, to load Lazarus out for a new exploration.
Within a 30-35 minute drive, we arrived at the Newville trailhead for the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail.
The weather was cool and comfortable. Trail traffic was mostly light, although closest to the trailheads was, logically, a bit busier. The trail is well-maintained. We picked a direction, and off we went.
The most scenic parts were from Newville to the “short” end, and the other terminus at Shippensburg University. I hadn’t studied the trail closely, or bothered to orient myself for very long. This caused me to “discover” the “end” much quicker than I anticipated (see photo below).
The majority of the trails cuts through large farmland, which offered some very typical, but not altogether appreciated environmental aromas. There are a few benches along the way.
A portion of the trail is designated dual-use, for local horseback riders. While I didn’t encounter any this day, there were certainly remnants providing proof of their passage.
To myself, I briefly chuckled thinking of a conversation CheapCyclist and I had several years ago. He had been doing some cycling-related reading and learned that, according to some categories of cyclists/cycling styles, there are riders known as “Clydesdales” due to their heavy-legged, pedal-mashing approach to riding. Recognizing that I am among them, the humor, then, was ,”Which part of the trail should I use?!”
Anyway…it seemed funnier to me at the time.
While I hadn’t entirely planned to do the complete trail, it turned out that I did. And, I’m glad I did. I took a short, off-bike break at Mile 0 before grinding back to the car.
Lazarus, no surprise, performed wonderfully. I, on the other hand, was a little more fatigued, as I was physically reminded of the sizing/posture mismatch of Lazarus and myself (something I never worried about, until I knew it could be better).
All in all, another great stage in the “End of the Road Tour.”
I often think about the biblical character of Lazarus. I have SO many questions, particularly about his lived experience after being brought back to life. At least as far as biblical references go, we are told there was a plan to kill Lazarus due to the danger his story posed to the religious status quo of the day. But, we never hear the end of his story. He drops out of the pages. And I wonder how his sisters, Mary and Martha who grieved the first time he was dead and buried, dealt with the eventual second death/loss.
Our Lazarus is not all that different.
I just couldn’t give up that easily after all of that has transpired. So, I determined to not simply cast Lazarus into the outer darkness, but to let it down gently. Thus, Lazarus’ Last Ride, an “End of the Road” Final Tour, if you will, in stages.
Despite having purchased a new riding alternative, it seemed only fair, reasonable and just that Lazarus should get the honor/privilege of the season’s first ride.
On April 12, 2021, at 7:26a.m., we set off for an 11.8 mile course of familiar local roads.
Bike and Rider, working together again, even after a winter season off, managed to set the bar high, already landing an average speed of 14.5mph, which has become our baseline/benchmark.
A momentous start to an open-ended “final tour” (see also rock groups Scorpions and particularly KISS)
In trying to capture, share and reflect on this tale of “a boy and his bike,” I have learned just how important a component Lazarus was in my life, through ups/downs, highs/lows, even during the dormant seasons.
As I imagine with any heroic saga, the hero doesn’t intend or aspire to be a hero. They simply do what is asked of them, no matter the conditions, often defying established norms, to the wonderment (chagrin?) of those around them. And what epic, heroic tale is worth telling if it doesn’t end in tragedy?
Lazarus is just such a hero. Truly, a “department store” commodity, one “not of noble stock,” but that has risen beyond his mean estate and has endured.
I also think, belatedly, that Lazarus was a worthy exemplar of CheapCyclist’s “No Shizznazz” approach to cycling.
Although I never set goals for riding (event completion notwithstanding), the adventures I’ve had with Lazarus have accomplished a lot more than I could have imagined oh those many years ago.
I suppose it may seem odd to have invested the time and energy into sharing this story, particularly with all the “important” things that could be addressed. But, as I’ve come to learn through my daily work and ministry, we are nothing but the stories we tell. Lazarus has been a part of my story for quite some time, and the loss and grief are real.
There is a genuine sadness and frustration that Lazarus’ story isn’t better documented. As I mentioned previously, I no longer have the course maps or cue sheets from the organized events. I didn’t have tracking information, speed/elevation/grade stats and parameters. I’ve searched through old family photos, etc., but it just wasn’t a “thing.” But, I have this story.
And perhaps some of the beauty of the Lazarus tale, not to mention a key take away heading into the future:
With the 2021 riding season on the near horizon, and armed with a brand new repair stand courtesy of Mrs. P2MP and family at Christmas, I set out to get Lazarus ready.
In the simple process of cleaning/lubing the chain, somehow Lazarus managed to snap another front spoke…with ZERO effort.
When I arrived at the FLBS, wheel in hand, for yet another spoke replacement ($20 ea.), I decided it would be (hopefully) more cost effective to buy new wheels, as I had already replaced more than enough spokes to compare cost-wise. A wheel was ordered (supposedly) with the proviso that, if the wheel was backordered, they would replace the spoke for the time being. If the wheel arrived in a timely fashion, we would skip the spoke.
A few days later, having not heard from the FLBS on the wheel/spoke matter, I paid a visit (I was in the area). They had not replaced the spoke and could find no record of a wheel being ordered. So they graciously replaced the spoke while I waited. Lazarus was held aloft by their pro-shop stand. Out of sheer happenstance, I looked a little closer at Lazarus and noticed this:
I’m no professional bike mechanic, but even I could tell that didn’t look quite right. I pointed it out to the shop guy, who seemed just as taken aback as I was. He resolutely declared his certainty they would not be able to find a replacement. He did, however, astutely note that, even in this unusual state, Lazarus was still capable of functioning. He advised I should begin shopping for a new bike (much) sooner rather than later. I loaded Lazarus back onto the rack and drove home.
The unthinkable began to settle in. Lazarus was mortally wounded. No intervention, no matter how cheap or costly (at least for me), was available to let this legend down easy.
For Lazarus, an ambiguous future.
For me, the dawning realization that Lazarus needed to rest.
In trying to make sense of this discovery, I tried to mentally playback the 2020 riding season and its mechanical challenges. I took a look back through what documentation I had, which was sparse.
Lo, and behold, while I was celebrating the “new” front derailleur installation, I had completely missed the onset of Lazarus’ career-limiting dilemma.
Y’see, the funny thing is (as noted by the FLBS mechanic) Lazarus was still completely functional. AND…if it had taken this long for this to happen, how long could Lazarus keep going, in theory or in practice?
I checked the time/date stamp of the photo, then went through my library of recorded rides.
Lazarus had rolled up nearly 100 miles after that derailleur replacement, in spite of this “limitation,” INCLUDING that late season, large climb (see previous chapter)! I was none the wiser, and had it not been for that spoke replacement, would have kept pressing Lazarus into service.
But, that wasn’t to be.
I resolved to using Lazarus on a limited basis, certainly not as aggressively as the past year, but ride we would, especially due to the radical lack of bike inventory caused by…well, you know.
And so, with Lazarus tucked away in the basement, and age draws to a close and passes into the annals of personal history and mythology.
2020 began with as much hope and anticipation as previous years. I had pre-registered again for the Bikes & Beers Tröegs and Victory rides. I had even contemplated adding other events, but then I realized I would be occupying too many non-work/family weekends with self-interest.
When the unimaginable happened, and the world suddenly seized up, it turned out cycling was an “approved/safe” activity. Without much forethought or planning, 2020 became Lazarus’ and my most storied, epic year together. The impetus behind such a year is addressed in this previous post.
Looking back, though, that post doesn’t quite tell the whole story, at least as far as Lazarus is concerned.
As you might imagine, after 40 years some natural wear-and-tear occurs. Compounded by the exponential increase in riding, Lazarus began to have some issues. While I don’t have an accurate count of incidents, they included a couple of flats, numerous broken spokes, and a variety of atypical squeaks and squonks that demanded attention.
In retrospect, it is not unlike reaching middle age and deciding to “get in shape” after years of neglect, lack of concern, what have you. If you start actually doing something, that you could have done all along, but didn’t, the squeaks and squonks are bound to follow. And yes, I had them, too, not just Lazarus.
One of the truly curious outcomes of all of this was I learned and did more mechanical maintenance on Lazarus than ever in our history together. And suddenly, the FLBS who had backhandedly questioned my sanity why I kept wanting to invest in this…economically efficient…machine had their shop hands full of people needing to do just that. They actually turned work away because they were so overwhelmed with tuneups and the like, they couldn’t keep up. It was made worse by the fact the supply chain of not only new bikes, but parts inventory was being greatly affected.
That said, they still provided help and support when I needed it. There were times they replaced a broken spoke “on the fly,” getting me in and out. Other times, it meant dropping the wheel off and hoping they remembered to call when it was done.
Yet, through it all, Lazarus remained stalwart and resolute.
I had started noticing a horrific noise when pedaling that gradually got worse. Nothing like going out for an early morning ride, through the more rural and suburban housing developments and having your passsage noted by the sound of guinea pigs/hamsters/gerbils in a state of high distress. (Note: no guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils or any other living creature was harmed in the creation or resolution of this particular mechanical dilemma.)
Having a 40-year-old, one-piece crank arm made it easier, I think, at least on me. Again, with the help of YouTube, I managed to be able to perform the necessary work, get it back together and it actually worked!
Lazarus and I were churning through the year, and the three phases of the Bikes & Beers Virtual/Social Distancing Ride continued to provide at least a bit of motivation. We were averaging 40-50 miles per week, most weeks and pedaling away the pandemic blues, at least a little bit.
All was quiet for awhile. Then, I started to notice other, similar noises. This time, I determined it was the pedals, and I tried to lubricate them as best I could. Spraying ’em with silicone worked, at least for the first ride afterward. It seemed the issue was the central axle of the pedal. I discovered a way to “open” the pedals, and applied some heavier grease with a toothpick into the ends, then reassembled.
In early October, we reached the (initially) unanticpated milestone of 1,000 miles. For most of the year, it had not occurred to me that was something I might attain, but there it was. And we celebrated! (at least for THAT moment)
But then, in a sequence of less-than-fortuitous happenings (to avoid copyright violations and such), it became evident that Lazarus had sustained some damage.
The first was the front shifter derailleur. I had been having some difficulty with latent or non-shifting from front big chain ring to small, but thought it was simply an adjustment due to cable stretch, etc. So, I set out to investigate.
With that settled, we set out to do a segment of a much longer route that I had discovered the previous year. I had a day off and we got to our starting point nice and early to allow plenty of time. After getting Lazarus off the car rack, and all necessary accessories set, we rolled to the edge of the pavement, and with a mighty push-off…I nearly fell over. One of the pedals had irreparably broken apart under my foot.
The FLBS of choice was not even open yet, but by the time I reloaded Lazarus onto the car and drove the 12 miles there, I held the slimmest hope they could at least muster a cheap pair of pedals. And indeed, they came through once again.
With all of that behind us, we finished the riding season with two big accomplishments. The first being a 19-mile ride with a climb I think may be the biggest one of our riding career (10.6% grade according to the tracker). It was in the “switchback” section on the left side of the map below, traveling approximately North to South (top to bottom of image).
The second was an absolutely beautiful 23-mile Thanksgiving Day ride. And with that, we closed the book on the 2020 Pandemic Road Riding Season.
In November of 2017, I bade farewell to CheapCyclist and the state of Indiana as a whole, and set out for south-central…PA. Due to various circumstances, I had to (temporarily) leave the family behind, living in less than ideal conditions for a short while (okay, about two months, actually).
With unseasonably comfortable weather and no commitments over the Thanksgiving weekend, I took an opportunity to explore the new area with Lazarus. I had learned about the Capital Area Greenbelt and it seemed like just the thing. And it was…sorta.
It turned out to be just the thing to humble me and my riding aspirations that I brought from the Midwest. 20-ish miles, and these really troubling things the locals call hills. Despite having grown up in western PA, I had apparently lost/blocked my familiarity with these topographic features over the years.
After slugging through this and walking three climbs, Lazarus somehow landed a flatted rear tire crossing the final bridge back to the parking lot. So ended 2017.
By early 2018, the family was back together and we were settling happily into our new environs. I don’t remember exactly how I found out about it, but I discovered a new (to me) organized ride under the banner of Bikes & Beers. They were hosting an event at Tröegs Brewing in Hershey, PA. What a novel concept! Ride bikes, drink beers*, provide financial support to develop and improve local biking trails and infrastructure.
After the “magnificent” history of riding events in past years, a 30-mile course seemed like an ideal choice. With little to no “training” (i.e., advance preparation/riding), Lazarus & I rode into a new day, so to speak. Feel free to read about our experience here.
I continued to ride intermittently through the year checking out the new territory and discovering new road routes for myself. When the early announcement came to sign up for the 2nd Bikes & Beers event at Tröegs (at a discount!), I jumped on it, AND, decided to add a second event at Victory Brewing in Parkesburg, PA, the following month. See here and here for those 2019 events. Mrs. P2MP joined me for moral support and for the post-ride social aspect of the Victory event. It was an awesome day, and Lazarus continued to be a solid performer. I believe the Victory ride may have been one of our BEST efforts together.
In light of all this and motivated/inspired by on-demand spin classes, Mrs. P2MP had a renewed interest in joining me for a bit of casual rail-trail type riding, just for something else to do together. We also did some hiking at local state parks and continued benefitting from the free fitness center provided by her employer.
* Full Disclosure: NO Beer drinking is done during the ride; solely a post-ride refreshment/reward.
Aside from the second run through the Tree City Rolling Tour, the 2016 and 2017 riding seasons were unremarkable compared with the previous two.
I had made the decision to leave congregational ministry and engage in a one-year residency/educational program toward becoming a chaplain. With more regular/structured hours and a one-hour commute to the city each day, riding opportunities were at a premium. I STILL managed nearly 200 miles in 2016 followed by a dismal 39 miles in 2017 (and the majority of that was a single effort that will be described below).
There WAS a nice, casual, impromptu ride that CheapCyclist led to some covered bridges around his then-town-of-residence. If you look REALLY close in the photo, that’s him and his ride in the middle of the bridge.
It would take another two months to get another ride in. A slow roll along part of the Cardinal Greenway.
2017 had a lot of evening walks with Mrs. P2MP around a local park. Time to relax from the day of work and catch up with each other.
Later that year another transition (aka “cross-country relocation”) unfolded as I/we relocated to central PA as I began my new work as a hospice chaplain.
It took until late 2014 for me to get techie enough to have a smart phone and until early 2015 to be able to utilize tracking apps like Map My Ride.
Until that point, I have no idea where I rode or for how long. I mean, after 30+ years, the number of rides/miles this bike/rider combo have completed are just lost to the expanse of time.
By May 2015, though, I had enough tools and experience at my disposal to plot courses and record them. Honestly, it helped a lot that the state of Indiana has a rather unique road numbering/ID system that helps keep you directionally no matter what (almost).
The first recorded ride of the 2015 season was late May. Scrolling back through the timeline of rides, it is clear Lazarus and I were having a lot of fun. Y’see, riding Lazarus was quickly growing into a valuable tool for offsetting the rigors of pastoral/congregational ministry. Being able to simply roll Lazarus out the driveway and set off seems like such a mundane thing, but it allowed me to recover the joy/thrill/wonder/excitement of simply riding.
Thus, 2015 became a standout year in Lazarus’ story. It included 258 miles of riding, three organized ride events, the advent of this blog, and some tragedy. Since many of the significant moments were previously documented by either CheapCyclist or myself, no need to write of them again here. Below is a list of the various high- and lowlights. I’ll see if I can muster any previously unpublished photos to accompany the list.
Our next to last ride of the year was one I will never forget. The course is documented on Map My Ride, but that is largely insignificant. I had taken a day off and was out for a ride to just “get away” for a bit, no particular destination or time frame. The only reason I had my phone was to track the ride. When my phone started buzzing with a call, from a number I couldn’t identify, I quickly silenced/ignored the call. In quick succession, several more call attempts came in which I still ignored. I don’t recall how many before I finally decided to pick up, while stopped at a rural intersection.
I was being summoned by the county sherriff’s department to an unimaginable tragedy. One of the members of the congregation I served, a family patriarch, had ended their life, and the family needed support.
I was at least several miles from home, in the middle of the country, nowhere near my car (parked in the driveway). I couldn’t think. I tried to ride it out, and realized that wasn’t good enough. I vaguely remember stopping along the side of the road to call one of the family members to let them know I was trying to get there. I made a frantic call to my wife, who was working (thankfully locally), and asked her to meet me with my car for a pick up, and trying to help her understand my whereabouts and orientation. We managed to find each other, make the trip back home, and get where I needed to be. It felt like it all took forever. And I always question what/how it could have gone differently.