Barry Sherry

Working through the five stages

At the counter, it was denial. First, an explanation and then two or three phone calls by the agent. At no time did I believe the answer would be no. When she suggested she could find someone to override this, I actually believed that was going to happen. It took about 20 minutes for her final answer. I was dumbfounded. I stood at the counter, on the verge of tears. I stayed there silently at the front of the line at the counter for about 10 minutes. The staff never asked me to leave. My mind was working overtime to make it happen, even when the answer was no.Bargaining? Well, yes, I started looking at every option to make this work. I called the public and private 24-hour passport services. I went to the passport office in D.C. (no go unless it’s a life or death situation). I looked at different flight schedules if I could work it out, arrive Wednesday or Thursday, rent a car, and ride one or two stages. Nothing worked.

I have failed. To my sponsors, I am sorry. I hoped that 24 or 36 hours later, I would be working through the acceptance phase, but I am not there. I am depressed.

And I fell into depression. Saturday and Sunday were the worst. Saturday afternoon at 6:00 p.m. was a club ride. I thought that riding would be good for the soul, but realized after starting that I didn’t feel like riding or seeing anybody. I bailed after 13-14 miles. I kept thinking I should be doing this in France. On Sunday, there was just enough drizzle to use that as an excuse not to ride.

So now I need to get to the acceptance phase. Jens and Loe sent me a photo of themselves when they heard I wouldn’t be there. Cute.

Gutted

Gutted. That’s where I am right now.

I’ve spent the last two days packing, including learning how to use my new bike case. I uploaded old riding files from when I was in the Pyrenees in 2010 so I could torture myself with bad time comparisons.

Flying on Royal Air Marco, their online check-in did not work, so I arrived at Dulles four hours early. I handed the agent my passport, and she took longer than usual getting my boarding pass. And then she didn’t.

First she and then a supervisor explained that I could not fly to France because the E.U. has a rule that your passport has to be valid for at least 90 days (and it may be six months). Mine expires in August.

I had looked at renewing it before I went but was warned that once I applied my current passport became null and void. I did not want to risk not getting my new one back in time, and besides, it is good until August.

At first it seemed that a few people needed to talk. The one agent said she was going to call to get permission to send me. There was hope, but after about 20 minutes, the hope died out. I could not fly.

I called my wife, who was almost home, and said, “Turn around, come back to Dulles.”

I am so disappointed. No pissed but very sad. Very. But I feel like I let so many people down. Yet I know that everyone who sponsored me did so for the cause - to fight MS. And that is still getting done. What is not getting done is me riding in France.

Is there still time? The answer is no. I have looked at the expedited passport application, but the Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, and New York offices are not taking walk-ins. And none have appointments available.

I looked at leaving later in the week, flying into Toulouse, and renting a car to drive to the Pyrenees. But that was only when I was still hoping for an expedited passport on Monday, which isn’t happening.

I notified George at MSIF. I am sick over this. I’m not the only one who has been caught up in this. My niece, Emily, flew to Zurich, and when she arrived they told her she could not leave the airport. She spent 24 hours or so in a pod until she caught a flight home.

I planned for this to be my last mountain climbing adventure. I can’t do fundraising again. But we talked about the possibility of rolling this over to next year. I don’t know how I will be then. There are so many emotions that I can express but don’t want to in a public forum. I am numb right now.

Doing da George

Not Training - Just Fun

MAUCK CHUNK, PENNSYLVANIA (Known as Jim Thorpe, Pa. since 1954)

What a beautiful little town in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania. Situated on the Leigh River, there is trail riding on the Delaware & Lehigh Trail. There are shuttles that leave the town and even a train which will transport you and your bike 35 miles away for a mostly downhill ride back to town.

My training did not go as planned because the shuttle was a no-show. So I didn't get all the miles in that I had hoped, instead focusing in on the beautiful weather. Also, my recovery the night before was very poor, so I didn't want a big effort.

I would love to come back here. Next time I will take the train.

Time is rapidly approaching and training is behind

Last year, I had three training rides on Skyline Drive by this time. This year - none.

With Thanks to All

Just $66 stood between me and my goal at the beginning of the day. One Facebook post and BOOM! I made my goal. Went over it by 10%.

Under the French Blue Sky

Under the French Blue Sky

I was at my Aunt Roberta’s funeral on Friday and saw my cousin’s husband. I hadn’t thought about seeing him or even about “the book.” It was spontaneous, but in the moment I remembered the book, “Under the French Blue Sky.”

It was written and given to me by a friend of mine, Nicole Davison. In 2016, she and her husband, Scott, joined a touring group in France to ride all 21 stages of the Tour de France, one week ahead of the actual Tour. She described indescribable scenery and food that cannot be captured by any description in a book. She painted a picture of how hard this is to ride even admitting that by the third week, when there was a pass thru through a finishing town and another loop of what they had just ridden, she and her husband and most of the group stopped when they got to town. Even more revealing, she and Scott even took a train on one stage to get to the finish, thus honoring some of the better stories of the early Tours de France.

The pictures, both in the book and in the descriptions, painted a picture of a magical place where anyone would want to visit. But especially so on a bike. Nicole was a strong rider and played up the fact that she passed almost all of the riders every day, 90% of whom were men.

My cousin Kay had been diagnosed with brain cancer and was off her bike by the summer of 2016. But in Nicole, I could see Kay riding free in the Alps and the Pyrenees, passing almost all of the riders, including the men.

On June 30, 2018, I gave Kay my book. I hoped it would give her hope and even a dream as she passed the time hoping and praying for a miracle. Two weeks later while in a restaurant, my phone lit up with a call. It was Kay. Normally, I wouldn’t answer in a restaurant but it was Kay. I picked up.

Kay told me she read the entire book. Then she paused. She asked how much it would be to join this trip next year. I told her the amount and she then asked, “Will you promise to go with me next year to ride in France?” Then added, “Of course I have to get rid of this stupid tumor first.”

This book gave Kay the Dream. And it gave her Hope. She had a goal to look forward to. Sadly, that would not happen because she died the next month.

I often wondered about the book. It has been almost seven years since she died. Surely her husband must have given it away. He’s not a cyclist. But there at the funeral, I saw him. “I may be seven years too late, but I have to ask…” I explained how I gave Kay my book. And now I would like it back. Not so much because I can’t get another one. I can. $15 on Amazon. But that was also my connection to Kay, the book that allowed her to dream even while cancer was taking her away.

And he said to me, “I haven’t given anything away.” He said that she had a room (office) downstairs and it has been untouched for seven years. He invited me to his house after the funeral and said, “Take whatever you want of hers.”

I only wanted the book. The room still had many trophies and ribbons she had won over the years. Presumably, even the first one when she was 41 and joined a 3K run/walk with her young son, Curtis. The starting shot went off and the runners took off. The walkers strolled along. Curt said, “Mom, do you notice only old people are walking?” Kay said it made her so mad that she just took off. Still in her grass-stained lawn mowing shoes, leaving Curtis behind (he was ok) she soon caught and passed every single runner winning the race that day.

Kay and I didn’t ride together much. We rode a couple of days in Bike Virginia in 2012 and then not again until an MS Ride at Cook Forest in 2018. For three years she was registered for the Sea Gull Century but fair weather and fair-weather friends always prevented her from making the trip. At Cook Forest we were riding together and started a climb when I slowed down to talk to the 40-year-old we were passing. I told him he was just dropped by a 69-year-old woman. He looked at her going up the road and astutely remarked, “Looks like you were too.” (I was.)

Kay was a special person, a special cousin, and a special friend. The only memorabilia that I wanted was the book I gave her, which gave her hope.

Under the French Blue Sky will form my dream. I will be going to France to ride these mountains one last time, this time as part of a fundraiser for MS.

I don’t like the fundraising part. Everyone who has donated has humbled me. You all are appreciated.

I leave for France one month from tomorrow. The fundraising will be okay. I may not be. I may take the train one day.

Well This Was Embarrassing

Last year, I believed that was going to be my last fundraising event. I have been doing this since 2009, starting with Livestrong in honor of my cancer diagnosis. A rainy day project will be to try and find out how much I have raised over the years.

The easiest year was 2009 for two reasons. First, I had been newly diagnosed with cancer, and nothing tugs on the heartstrings more than a personal battle. My cousin, Sarah, would also say that being young and cute. When her daughter battled leukemia, she raised her hand and $30,000 dropped in. I’m not young or cute.

The second reason is charity fatigue. The first time is easier than the second time and each subsequent time. As Julie (Roosters) lamented in 2019, Facebook added their charity modules, and it seems almost everybody has their favorite charity listed for a birthday fundraiser. You can’t give to them all. Personally, I tend to give to events and not Facebook birthday fundraisers. In 2009 that Livestrong event was a unique cancer cause, but by 2020 it was one of hundreds on Facebook competing with birthday fundraisers.

Many of my sponsors have been with me for 10 or more years. I think Alan has donated to every one although he made have missed one that I didn’t advertise widely. My sponsors get tired, but not as tired as I get asking. I really don’t like soliciting.

So last year I believed it would be my last fundraising event. And told sponsors that. Yet here I am.

Last week I sent out my first appeal. I reached everyone from last year, I think, except my anonymous donors. Sorry folks, this will be my last time. Never say never, but this time I feel it.

I don’t want anyone who gave last year to feel like I lied to them. If I did, I lied to myself. I thought that was it. But enough people accepted my iffy apology. Notices were popping in my mailbox. I was embarrassed to look. But so many FRIENDS. I am overwhelmed.

So here’s a huge THANK YOU to all those who jumped on board. Especially to Kristi and Mark/Patricia, who battle MS and let me ride for them. So many stories. Two families I met at Mount Washington. One from Ride the Rockies although we never met. Classmates. Cycling friends. Roosters and PWCC. And family.

Here’s to running it back one more time. And getting us closer to a cure.

Three - Two - One - Start

I have been very slow to embrace the critical part of this event - the fundraising. I have been in fundraising mode since 2009 when I raised $3000 for Livestrong and followed that up with $5000 the next year. I'm tired and my friends must be getting tired of me. But it is necessary.

Tonight I did my first social media posts. I went on Facebook, shared a link, and thanked my first donor, my cousin, Christine, who gave me money last year for "your next event." I used this platform to email most* of last year's donors, and I did a post in Strava.

I am looking forward to this trip and will share what it means to go back to the Pyrenees - in a future post. But here we go!!

___

I'm fundraising for a world without MS

Hi,

Thanks for coming to my page! In June, I'm taking part in one of the world's toughest cycling challenges, Cycle for MS: Conquer the Tour

Cycle for MS is famed as one of Europe’s most unique and challenging charity cycling event. I'll be riding 400km over the toughest mountain climbs in the Pyrenees of this year’s Tour de France. You may have heard of them: Col du Aubisuqe, Col d'Aspin, Col du Peyresorde, and the famous Col du Tourmalet.

These mountains have a special connection for me. When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2009 I set a recovery goal for 2010 and that was to go to France and ride these mountains. Little did I think that 15 years later I would get a second chance.

I'm taking part in Cycle for MS to raise money to enable the Multiple Sclerosis International Federation (MSIF) to collaborate with its members across the world to improve the quality of life and wellbeing of everybody affected by MS.

This fight is personal. I am able to weave my cancer survivorship into a trip that will make the difference for those with MS. While I do this for my family and friends I pray that countless others may benefit from my contributions.

Please join me in the fight against MS by contributing to my page.

Thank you for your support!