The Pittsburgh Dirty Dozen

The weekend after this past Thanksgiving, I participated in the most challenging, rewarding, painful ride of my life on two wheels – the 34th annual Dirty Dozen race in Pittsburgh, PA. A simple explanation, the DD is a 50+ mile ride that highlights the 13 of the steepest hills of the iconic steel city.

My first exposure to this race was a youtube documentary, sent by the very friend who introduced me to the thrills of road biking. At the time, we joked “look at these crazies”, but in the following years it became a bucket list bike ride. Fast forward to this spring, and another friend tells me, “My brother signed me up for this year’s DD.” That’s all it took to accept the challenge and plan the trip.

On Black Friday, after a day spent relaxing with family and overeating, I loaded my bicycle and picked up my traveling partner Steve before we began the 560-mile drive to Pittsburgh. My personal cap on road travel is about 6-7 hours, so it helped having someone to keep me entertained through the farmland that is most of Ohio – and help with driving. Traffic was light for the most part, and we managed to complete the trip without any fights, sanity mostly intact.

Around 8pm, we entered a tunnel and came out to the lights of Pittsburgh. Truly a city cut in the mountains, I was overwhelmed with the challenge I had set for myself. Twisting and turning along each winding road, it was easy to lose our bearings as we cut through the city. Fear of the challenge had caught me earlier that week, but now I was face to face with reality. These were “big boy” hills.

Our gracious host Patrick tried to calm my nerves that evening. I had ridden long distances. I ride regularly. I understand the mental tenacity needed to complete long distances and endure the pain of riding 10+ hours. He hadn't completed the race in previous tries*. He was in his personal worst shape and unsure he could get through it. This encouragement helped, but only slightly as I knew he was familiar with the terrain of his native Pittsburgh, and I was out of my league. 

*a technical completion is climbing each hill without putting a foot on the ground

Saturday morning, we packed our bikes and drove to the starting line. A record group had assembled, as this year we rode to benefit one of the founders of the race who had been in a paralyzing accident earlier this year. Danny Chew was present through Skype, welcoming the large group from his hospital bed in Chicago. The crowd tried to keep quiet to hear as he spoke about his personal experience and gave encouragement for those daring enough to face the DD.

We set off in groups of about 50 riders. Patrick, John, and I joined the 55+ year old racers, in the fourth heat. Seriously, riders in their 60s made me look silly throughout the day. Beginning at 9:30, we made our way to the first hill. Words can't describe the steepness of some of these hills. Without going into detail of each attempt, I can state that I only completed 6 hills.

Some of the obstacles were like climbing a wall. My bike's front tire came off the ground multiple times, and the threat of falling backwards was very real. Other hills began easy enough, but would switch back into a monster climb or take so long you'd think it would never end. I felt muscles reach their maximum tension and cramp with each pedal stroke. Some riders would be in the midst of a climb, freeze and fall off their bike, as muscles stopped working. I considered a grade drop to single digits a welcome respite. There are technically 13 hills in the race, but even making our way to some of them was a draining task. 

This marked my first visit to Pittsburgh, and I caught parts of the city that are missed by most tourists. With Patrick as a guide, I was given a tour beyond costs. He would point out key landmarks, share personal insights of each neighborhood, and explain changes made in this year’s race. I fell in love with the authenticity and pride that each neighborhood exuded. The climbs were a small sacrifice for the sheer joy of riding on a crisp fall day, flying up and down the terrain of this vibrant city. 

For most of the journey we were greeted with waves and patience. The shouts and cheers from observers were often the exact key to finishing a hill. Very few showed their honest frustration with the 400 cyclists traveling through their busy streets in packs of 50-70 riders. Still, each group leader and organizer of the Dirty Dozen made the entire experience seem safe and welcoming.

It is an experience I will never forget. I was humbled and awestruck. Riding my bike for a little over four years, I have made progress fast. That being said, Pittsburgh riders are the strongest I have ever seen. Never will I complain about any hills in Nashville. No hill steep enough. This was not a complete victory for me. In fact, I consider it mostly a loss. My normal bike (the Benotto) stayed, as it is not geared properly for the hills of western PA. I rode my KHS, a touring bike with 21 speeds and straight handlebars. While the gearing was great, standing to climb was difficult. Pulling my body into the correct position meant I might swerve aggressively toward another climber. This drastically changed how I approached the hills, as I felt uncomfortable standing – especially in a crowded pack. Still, these are only excuses. Watching some of the riders race up the tallest hills I have ever experienced was inspiring.

Patrick killed it. Each time I got to the top of a hill, walking or riding, he was there waiting. I’m not sure he even broke a sweat, completing the ride for his first time. His brother-in-law, John, also did great work - only needing to stop on one hill about halfway through the ride. We managed to finish just before dark, and only got a little lost on our way back to the car.

The following day, we made the trip back to Nashville. Steve took a majority of the ride. I was thankful for his assistance as my entire body ached. It took about three days to recover from the ride. Multiple Epsom salt baths and a steady diet of pain relievers helped. I managed to get back on the bike a week later and ride around town. It’s a changed experience. The DD taught me about my bike, my body, and my mind. It gave lessons in perseverance, patience, and intensity. By far, my greatest bike achievement to date, and a new goal. I will complete those 13 hills. It may not happen in 2017, but some day.

*You can give to Danny Chew's recovery here 

*A brief, fun video of some of the hills, straightened - here

The end of day one (April 29)

The Natchez Trace Parkway has no billboards. There are no restaurants or gas stations directly on the road. You need to make an exit in order for these modern conveniences to appear. And you need a detailed map or mobile device to locate these stops. With a phone that eats battery life and a personal desire to disconnect from the digital world, I chose the detailed map. It provides location for the numerous historical homes, natural sites, picnic areas, and overlooks to pause and contemplate the history of the trail, as well as a rough outline of the miles I would be traveling.

At one of these sites, I paused to switch water bottles and look at the old trail. While I was relaxing, a couple pulled up in a car from New York. They exited and approached me with a bit of interest. Once they began talking, it was obvious the United States was not their home. They were from the Netherlands, and taking a long trip through the US. From New York to New Orleans, through the Natchez and Appalachian mountains, it seemed they were on a month trip. I had a wonderful conversation with them and they shared some of their biking experiences in Europe. What struck me was the clarity of their English and their patience in describing the cycling cultures of Europe. It seems you may want to avoid a bike tour through Spain, however the Scandinavian countries have a well founded cycling infrastructure. Though our visit was brief, I enjoyed hearing these people rave about the South's natural beauty and describe their own continent with such a welcoming tone. Put a European tour on my bucket list.

Near 5 pm, I reached Collinwood around mile marker 355. I estimated to have ridden 90 miles, but couldn't physically make any more of a dent. The welcome center at Collinwood provided me a refill on my water bottles, some advice on where to eat, suggested I shower at the fire station, and welcomed me to set up camp in their public park. 

I had blackened cajun catfish, a sweet potato and some over cooked vegetables. Won't say it was five star, but it was welcomed after a long day pedaling. I was the only patron in Chad's Steakhouse at the time, and of course stuck out like a sore thumb. After I explained my day and plans, the host was more than willing to give me the award of most miles ridden in a day. She had never met another cyclist who had ridden from Nashville to Collinwood in one, and so it became that I hold the record.

After dinner, I found the least conspicuous spot in the park, pitched my tent, checked in with Whitney (who mentioned I should take lots of selfies), packed some clothes into my tent bag as a makeshift pillow and crashed for the night. I ended up falling asleep by 7:30. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open even that late.

A look back ... Day 1: April 29

Look at him. A total newb. Bike touring? More than 60 miles in a day? That ramp leads to something totally beyond this fella with a tight lip, poker face, nervous tick with the right hand.

This is a moment that will spark a flame in this one traveler's life. It is a five day journey with unmet challenges and unknown adventures in an enthusiast's life. Welcome to my #BikeNatchez2015

The day began with a packing and fancy brunch with my partner, Whitney. She saw me off around nine with a full belly and nervous excitement. First stop on the trace was a toilet break at Garrison Creek (7 miles). I can't recall much because the only remembered thing was a stranger leaping forward to catch my falling bike. I thanked him for sacrificing himself to save my bike. 

He stated, jokingly, "Just an American Hero."

I laughed and offered my gratitude again, moving my bike to a more secure mount.

Tennessee is the state I love. It has held a beat in my heart since the moment I moved to Nashville in the early 2000s, and grown upon return in 2012. Visiting TN by bike is an experience in itself. The natural beauty that lies in all areas of the state is a constant adventure. It is part of why I want to climb and bike and be in nature as much as possible, and why I can't see leaving her. I would love to share the landscapes I saw, but my weak photos can't describe the surreal moments where all five senses are engaged on the road.

While I can't say that I soaked as much of the history in this trip as some would like, I enjoyed Tennessee for her trees, the wildlife and landscape provided. I noted through the day two deer, an owl (mid-day), squirrels, a wide variety of birds and plenty of turkey. Thought of Terry and Tyler Newton as I sighted a big tom, strutting his tail feathers through the trees.

What I experienced through the first day was a whirlwind of nerves and nature. It was a race in some aspects. There were goals to be met and sites to be seen, but the lines would be blurred until my first interaction with another traveler. He didn't try to give much advice, while we were at the Merriweather Lewis monument & gravesite. Mostly he gave me a recap of his journey from Colorado Springs to our meeting place, and told me his plans to go through the Appalachians. I remember him telling me stories of 30 mph headwinds that defeated some transamerican trail riders in Kansas, as it brought his own pace to 8 mph. I was already thankful for the blockage of the beautiful Tennessee forests.

Always drink water and feed yourself. The body is like an alkaline battery, he said. You can run it until it's dry, no more. But, he told me to load up on carbs and don't be afraid to go for the sausage McGriddles at McDonalds. You know it won't get you sick from food poisoning, and you'll burn it off (I wouldn't particularly be looking for Mickey D). I took in all his gear, and had a bit of envy. He was packed for any weather and prepared for a distance w/o water. 1600 miles and nearing his goal, this guy was a clearly a seasoned cyclist, and still he didn't ridicule my setup. It was nice to run into a tourist within 60 miles of my first big ride, and not feel like a poser or complete beginner.

... more on my first day, later ...

Seriously, selfies?

Because I know you all miss me sooo much, in uploading all my selfies from the trip, plus a bonus (at work). It's day 3, and I am tired, but happy. I'll make a day by day write up at the ends of things. Meanwhile, enjoy these?

Up too late.

Made last trip to REI. Ate a late dinner and was gifted a fantastic assortment of bars from dear friend, Kevin. Packed. And packed. Weird feeling, nervous. I always doubt myself. Terrible habit, I know.

Read up a little on the Merriweather Lewis death on Natchez. Interesting stuff. Doubt of the death as suicide and a family that wants to exhume the body. Marked his final stop on my map for a visit. I want to track my ride, but still don't know what app to use. Maybe mapmyride? It eats a lot of battery though.

Tomorrow morning comes soon. Sleep will be interesting.

Two days...

And I'm back to "under-prepared" as the emotion de jour. Don't have my campsites picked out. Not sure where I'm going to get my meals. Will water be an issue?

However, my hairs are all cut off. My bicycle has been tuned like a precision machine. The wife and I have a plan for the return trip on Sunday.

I just need to keep telling myself this is a well traveled road, with plenty of stops along the way. My bike is in great shape. I'm a resilient person. This will be fun.

one week left

One week from tonight, I will be camping under the stars. As I expected, now I begin to question how prepared I am. Am I carrying too much? How will my bike withstand the weight?

Did I spend too much? No, I want more of this. More bike trips, camping, exploring. More bike frames and gears, mechanics. I can keep dreaming from there