The Final Exam

In the foggy morning light, the cyclists approached the blue-green spine of the hill to the southeast, rising from pastures and cornfields about seven miles out of Mifflintown, Pennsylvania. No opening could be seen cutting through the thick hardwoods. By ones and twos, the riders turned toward the mountain and slowed. The road pitched up into the forest. Yes, this was the first part of the"final exam" of the 2000 RadioShack Big Ride Across America.

Camping on the hill
overlooking Mifflintown

There had been longer climbs in Montana, hotter ones in Washington, and windier ones in Wyoming, but nothing as steep as this: a three-mile asphalt ribbon of pain curling upwards at a slope that exceeded 14 percent in places, with nearly 1,400 feet of vertical rise. Switchbacks at first kept the slope manageable, but near the top, the road just took off up the hill, ending in a final stretch that seemed almost impossible. Gears clicked or clunked down until there was nothing lower. Thighs and legs burned; backs strained; fingers curled tight around handlebars."They don't have hills like this in Minnesota," gasped Valerie Dosland, a strong rider from Minnesota. Near the top, she paused for a few seconds, saying, "I refuse to walk up this hill." Back in her clipless pedals, she had soon reached her goal. Carrie Chalker of Columbus, Ohio, deserves a special mention in the Big Ride Hall of Pain: She pulled the Chain of Hope, the Burley cart with the names of lung disease victims, up the killer hill, undoubtedly the steepest section anyone has towed the Burley on the trip. "I've never sweated or breathed so hard in my life," she said later.

A second hill through Waggoners Gap to the top of Blue Hill, about 15 miles later, completed the "final exam." It was a half-mile shorter and a degree or two less steep. At the top, gasping, perspiring Big Riders were greeted by an enthusiastic welcoming committee of riders who had already reached the top. Members of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Lung Association passed out orange slices, cookies, and more birch beer. Not content with just one climb up the hill, or maybe touched by temporary insanity, three riders — Herve Bauge of New York City, Mark Brandt of Chicago, and Sharon Groves of Seattle — went whooping down the hill they had just conquered and did it all over. Their total vertical climb in Pennsylvania will be a bit more than the 20,000-plus feet most riders have notched up in the past four days.

The 'final exam' — a three mile climb

Awaiting Big Riders at camp in Gettysburg, however, were three dozen pizzas ordered by Rita Christopher of Old Lyme, Connecticut. She was celebrating"the 20th anniversary of my 39th birthday." The pizzas made it to camp before Rita, who pulled the Chain of Hope for the last 18 miles.

John Tarr

While Big Riders were celebrating mountains gained, hard effort rewarded, and a goal nearly achieved — less than 100 miles to go to Washington, D.C. — one of their number was doing the same in terms of personal goals, celebrating a remarkable climb from the depths of drugs and despair.

John Tarr grew up in the faceless suburbs of the San Fernando Valley in the 1970s and 1980s. As a 16-year-old kid, he weighed 285 pounds. He had few friends. At 18, he turned to drugs — cocaine, speed, and the like. "It was easy to do," John recalled. "I just fell into it." In 1995, at age 22, he had a serious motorcycle accident. His leg was nearly amputated, but surgery saved it. "I was given a second chance," he said. He enrolled at Los Angeles Valley College as a journalism major. But he hadn't kicked drugs and, at a low point, he tried to kill himself by overdosing on drugs and alcohol. Then, at 24, he wrecked his car while driving drunk. "That's when I started riding a bike," John recalled. Things had to change, he realized, or he would be a corpse on a slab. On June 1, 1998, encouraged by friends and family, and by a deep Christian faith, he went clean, foreswearing drugs forever. Three months later, he joined the Navy. "The turning point was when I started working with kids in September of last year and I noticed that kids do what you do. So I took my last cigarette and my last drink."

Big Riders find an antidote for
'helmet hair' — a cafi full of hats

Early this year, John signed up for the Big Ride."It's a huge goal," he said. "You have to raise money and train while doing your daily life. This is what goal-setting is all about." In a moment of epiphany, John realized that doing the Big Ride and then telling kids about it was the way he could share his own experiences — both in getting to the starting line and in doing the ride itself — to help motivate young people caught in the cycle of drugs. "I know I can help revitalize their dream-because all kids have dreams-and help them reach it."

On Wednesday night, John stood in front of his fellow Big Riders and told them his story and of his plans. He asked people to sign a white jersey that he will carry to schools, along with pictures and stories of the Big Ride.

John's commanding officer in Fallon, Nevada, where he's stationed as a petty officer third class, realized the importance of the Big Ride and granted John an active duty status that allows him to be paid while he's on the ride. Next week, he reports back to duty and will soon be stationed at Camp Pendleton in southern California.

Reflecting on his inner voyage, John said "I'm very happy with who I am now. If it had happened some other way, I wouldn't be who I am. It's like going up a hill. It hurts, but you know there's a view at the top. And now I get to have fun. Now I'm on the downhill slope. I thank God for this opportunity."

By Clem Work, riding reporter.

For more information about today's ride, check out the GORP Big Ride Log.