We arrived in St. Albans, Vermont after a never ending day of driving in a small van for 7 ½ hours. There we did the usual preparation, for each bike ride begins by:

1. Finding a place to sleep in the church basement (carpeting if you’re
   lucky).
2. Making sure the bike is mechanically prepared to ride.
3. Setting out riding clothing.
4. Putting out sufficient food (Power Bars) and drink (Gatorade).
5. Making sure you eat a good supper and snack often.
6. Finding out the next day’s ride
7. Trying to sleep with 50 other people in the room.

DAY 1 - St. Albans, Vermont to Middlebury, Vermont - 112 miles.

We ride 50 miles close to Lake Champlain. A road so flat you can see a worm miles off. The temperature is on the cool side. In fact, during the entire week temperatures were perfect for riding. At 82.8 miles, we encounter our first hills. With a few minor exceptions, we now face hills, mountains or descents the rest of our journey home. At 88.1 miles, I've run out of steam and need to stop at a general store for basic refreshments. Five or six other riders also stop. Hills are now getting steeper as we approach the Green Mountains. The day is getting a bit long. Finally signs to Middlebury. Signs to our destination always seem to charge me up. I’m known as a bit of a homer. The focus for me stops being the pain and now becomes getting off the bike. Going back to that homer thing. Have you ever ridden a horse that the closer you get to the stable, the faster and faster it goes? I’m like that. Just put it in high gear and go until you are finished. Tony Cerrone (often my riding buddy) laughs at this part of my riding personality.

Regardless of how you cut the mustard, riding 112 miles is a major accomplishment. In reality, I am more worried about tomorrow’s 97 miles through the Green Mountains. Day one can be done on the strength built up through the rest days before the ride. Day 2, however, is done right on top of all the exhaustion from day one.

DAY 2 - Middlebury, Vermont to Manchester, Vermont - 97 miles

We will find day 2 consists of two kinds of riding, going up or going down. The weather forecast is frightful. The prediction is heavy rains up to 3 inches. A tremendous thunderstorm breaks over the church where we are staying in the middle of the night. Flashes of lightning and rolling thunder that almost seem to be inside the church awaken everyone. We are hopeful this is a sign that a cold front has blown through and the weather will clear. The weather does clear for the most part, except we are left to ride in drizzle and on wet pavement most of the day. The day begins riding up a nine-mile hill. This surely is the Green Mountains. About two-thirds up the hill, I experience a flat tire. We later learn that this day has set a record for flat tires (8 riders) on a Pa. Perimeter Ride Against Cancer. We are supported this year (for the first time) by a van and two mechanics from Bike Line. They are moving like bees around honey fixing all of our bike problems. Scott and Papo are the real blessing on this trip. Riding with confidence makes so much of a difference. Worry seems to drain energy. There is enough energy drain to go around without worrying about mechanical problems.

At times riders would pass telling me how beautiful the ride was. The only thing I could remember seeing on day two was fog and water splashing on my glasses. I spent the day peering through two small spots in the center of the lenses that hadn’t fogged.

There were four major climbs on day two. Somewhere in the middle of the third one, my right knee began to hurt on the down stroke. It started from almost nothing to a real ouch! It is the kind of thing you hope will not happen on these long rides. Various sitting positions do not seem to help much. I find the pain is most intense when I am putting pressure on the downward stroke as in trying to go up a hill. Peddling with my left leg and lowering gears seems to help.

We discover my seat position had been changed by the mechanic who worked on my bike prior to leaving for the ride. I hope I can be instructive to him when I see him next. Minor changes make big differences on these long rides.

We have an eight-mile descent into Manchester. One almost doesn’t have to peddle to finish the day. We are all thankful for this gift.

DAY 3 - Manchester, Vermont to Amsterdam, New York - 83 miles

We are quickly out of Vermont and into New York. This ride is along the Battonkill, a world famous, fly fishing trout stream. This is where Dave Weller tried to teach me how to fly fish. He gave up and said I was hopeless, perhaps the worst fly fisherman he had ever seen. I forgot if this was before or after I closed the car trunk on the pole breaking it in two. I guess it’s better that I’ve been called as a fisher of men rather than of fish. Sally was pregnant with Sarah when we were here with the Wellers. Fond memories of family flood through my brain. Tears to my eyes, I wonder why I’m doing this ride, being away from loved ones for so long. Answers are not easily found, but home sadness is. The ride is pretty unremarkable. We cross over the Hudson River. People wonder if it really is the Hudson River because it seems so small.

One of the questions asked at Amsterdam was, "Did you see the sunflowers?" The group is divided into two. There are those that did and those that didn’t. Implications are that those who didn’t are not taking the time to smell the roses. I ask, "What sunflowers?" Unfortunately my allergies have been acting up all week. I coughed and my nose dripped through the entire ride. Alas, I could not have smelled the sunflowers if you would have stuck one up my nose.

The knee is doing fine. A little Advil and ice do wondrous things. Plus, this is my dog day. Take it easy; it’s only an 83-mile ride.

Amsterdam is the town I identify with the most. It was for 100-120 years a great place to live being right along the Erie Canal. It was the home of major carpet manufacturing. The homes surrounding the churches were once mansions but are now run down. Everywhere you get the smell of a town that is in deep decline. Like so many of our Pennsylvania towns, it seems that a corporate decision was made to shut down the plants and make carpeting in the South. I have a feeling the good people of Amsterdam have not hit bottom yet. The pastor at the church where we are staying has just retired. The look in the people’s eyes say they are not very sure of their future. To make matters more challenging for them is limited parking and another Lutheran Church just one block down the street. An often repeated story, there was a battle over having English at a worship service rather than German early in the century. It ended with a split in the Lutheran congregation and an English speaking church was established one block away. Oh, the sins of fathers are visited on their children.

It is here that we are greeted most enthusiastically. They are the only congregation to call and ask to host us! I read their newsletter. They reported only a $500.00 balance after Easter. Yet, the red carpet is out. We are treated to mounds of lasagna, which provides us with vital strength to carry on. This is all the more striking when on the next night we’re in a town that is much better off financially (Oneonta). The congregation that hosts us can only muster pasta salad and cookies for dessert. It is when we start counting wealth that the last thing we count ought to be money. My observation is the better off a congregation is in terms of building and financial resources, the less able they are to respond to the needs of other humans.

DAY 4 - Amsterdam, New York to Oneonta, New York - 78 miles

We finally hit some of what PPRAC riding is all about. We ride up for about 11 miles and ride along a ridge overlooking the Mohawk Valley. We are surrounded by beautiful farm country. This day is breathtaking. There is a hint that there are struggles here also. There is a "For Sale" sign by a horse ranch and house, only $49,000.00. I notice all the farm equipment is old and rusted. Nowhere do I see a piece of new equipment. Next, barns are in need of serious repair. At one farm, a farmer is leaning over a hay bailer with a puzzled look that I have felt on my own face. The look says, "This thing is broken. Now what do I do?" There is a way of life disappearing before our eyes. Is it possible for our country to do well without the life lessons and hard discipline learned on the family farm?

Oneonta is a town of a different stripe. People are walking downtown. All the storefronts are filled. There are even sidewalk cafés. Why? I’m not sure, but there are several colleges in the town. One of the riders is given free tickets to a baseball game. The Oneonta Yankees and the Williamsport Cubs. We visit the game for a couple of innings. Three things are of note. A local popular item is fried dough. It is a fried rectangle with powdered sugar on it. My digestive track is sensitive, so I pass on the fried dough, but I am left unanswered. Is it like our waffle cakes? Second, when the sun goes down, it is as if the entire crowd starts digging into their bags, knapsacks, etc… and puts on their sweatshirts and pants. It cools down fast in Oneonta. We bikers did not know of this tradition, so we are left out in the cold. Third, I’ve never noticed how boring baseball is when you don’t know any of the players and you don’t really care what happens. We tried to work up some hometown enthusiasm for our boys from Pa., but failed to muster even a polite applause. The response from the Oneontanians is similar. I guess they too are bored.

DAY 5 - Oneonta, New York to Honesdale, Pennsylvania - 83 miles

It seems most Pennsylvania Perimeter Ride against Cancer host towns are built near water. This means a downhill when coming into town and a climb when leaving. In the morning this is fine because I’d rather climb while fresh and it makes for a quicker warm-up. The body, left to its own devices, will take 15 to 20 miles to loosen up.

Day 5 has some notables in it. My butt is finally bike ready. Said in other words, it is so numb it has no feeling. Therefore, there is no pain, no rubbing or chafing. There is a point where the riding gets a bit professional. Get on your bike and ride. As long as you eat and drink properly, the ride could go on another 500 miles. It would not make much difference. Today is that day. Just peddle, peddle and peddle. Not much pain, just moving forward.

There is a glimmer of excitement as we see the Welcome to Pennsylvania sign. This excitement is squashed as a string of now Pa. drivers buzz past us. For the first time on our ride, there is no shoulder to pull over on. It is a wonderment why in Vermont and even in N. Y., the ride and dangerous driver was the exception. This, however, seems to be the rule in Pa. Someone asks, "Is it the road or the driver?" I can only respond, "Both." It seems car tires cannot go over that double yellow line, for car after car drive by without slowing or moving over. They do so even though it is perfectly safe to give a few extra inches. I worry and hope all the riders will be safe.

The hills are now really upon us. The good news is that they are close enough together so you can speed down and almost get to the top of the next hill before you really have to work. One of my best friends, Tony (the person I’vie trained with over the past 15 years and with whom I've spent a great deal of time on the eight rides) and I ride together for the day. Our pace seems to be in harmony. It’s funny that our eating habits could not be more the same or different. We get hungry at the same time and find great delight in finding out of why places to have lunch. At lunch, I usually eat turkey something and Tony eats anything with peppers, garlic and spices piled high. One bite of his lunch and I would have to lock myself in the bathroom for the rest of the day. Tony just munches away.

About 12 miles from Honesdale, Tony shoots off like a rocket. Paul Wessel and I try to catch up. Every bit of unspent energy is put into going as fast as I can to keep up. Tony disappears over some ridge and I keep working. At 81.9 miles, I turn a corner and there are Paul and Tony waiting for me. "Hey, Tony, did you want to get to Honesdale?" I ask. He responds with a smile, "I was only waiting for a few seconds." We are good friends, and that’s all that matters!

I am not sure where we are. The sign says Honesdale, but I’ve never been here before and I am disoriented. Knowing where I am is a major asset in my life but to this day, I don’t have a feel for where Honesdale is. It is an all too typical Pa. town with closed stores. It is another declining and dying town. There is dirt and a need for paint everywhere. I know life is not made up in the abundance of things, but how can the children have hope? Will the best and brightest not leave, thus creating long term problems for leadership vision and future growth? The high school is built on one of the highest hills around. As we pass it, I comment to Doug Myers, "Is it up this high so that the students can look to find their way out of town?"

DAY 6 - Honesdale, Pennsylvania to Palmerton, Pennsylvania - 87

Today the group is like thoroughbreds at a racetrack. Ready to ride. The first person to leave does so at 5:30 a.m. Any hope of being the first person to ride a bike from St. Albans to Palmerton is dashed. In reality, my biking skills are limited. I’ve never been in first and never will, but I will make it.

The first 50 miles of day 6 turn out to be the most difficult of the ride. The hills are higher and much farther apart; thus you cannot use momentum to go over them. They are unrelenting. Up one hill and right in front of you is another. This process repeats itself all morning. I am riding by myself all day. I’ve got what they call a weight to strength ratio problem. It is a nice way of saying I am heavy. Being heavy helps you on the down hills and flats but kills you on the up hills. I go fast and slow where as most riders have an even pace. At 52 miles, my legs begin to weaken and it’s time for turkey something. Twenty minutes later I am back peddling now past Slippery Rock Lodge. The pace picks up as the road begins to have more down hills than ups. Somewhere near the Bethlehem Reservoir the Bike Line van approaches and Scott asks me if I am all right. I’ve been drinking warm Gatorade most of the day. I ask for cold water and he provides me with some cold bottled water. I try to get off my peddles but cannot do so. Scott turns my boot left instead of right and my foot pops off the pedal. Scott tells me that I am not concentrating. After drinking the water in one gulp, it occurs to me that he is right. Not only am I not concentrating, but also I am also not thinking. Fried brain! I can’t think anymore. It is time to get home. Within two miles is familiar road that I biked on in training. One more little hill and home is just a short 9 mile downhill away.

Trachsville hill is the toughest little hill we have to do. It is the steepest grade we have to do the entire ride. All we can do is put it in the granny and keep on pushing. Sweat streams off my body and onto the road. A few minutes later I am crossing Route

The good folk at Holy Trinity have prepared for us a tremendous homecoming. There is a balloon arch stretched over and across 5th street. Birch beer, Snapple, pizza and a supper to beat the band are waiting to nourish our exhausted bodies. We even have an ice cream machine with soft ice cream for making Sundaes.

The riders wait and cheer each rider as they come across the finish line.

At the thank-you and award ceremony, it is announced that we have raised $66,000.00 for the American Cancer Society and Dream Come True.

August 9, 1997 at 5:15 p.m. The party begins to break up. Four months ago, to the day, plus 5 hours, I was being wheeled out of the operating room at Lehigh Valley Hospital Center. Dr. Robert Morrow removed a herniated disc and a bone chip from my spinal column, and then fused two of my vertebrae. The months of December through April were a nightmare of unrelenting pain. One doctor predicted that I would not ride a bike again. This spinal injury cast a long shadow over Holy Trinity, my family and my future. I am humbled that I was able to do the entire 530 miles when four months ago I could not even hold my left arm out straight.

Thank-you to everyone who sacrificed their time and energy to support this endeavor. I feel as though I owe some huge debt I cannot repay and don’t know how.

Paul Schoffstall

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