A Tony, Emmy or Oscar in the Future?



Cheering in seventh grade.

 I've been trying to track down Sydney Mahon for an interview for some time, but she's a busy young lady!  Diabetic since 2005, only days before she entered second grade, Sydney will be an eighth grader at Loveland Middle School this fall.  If you don't have a chance to see her cheering along the sidelines you'll just have to catch her later up on stage.

Ms. Mahon is what they call in theater "a triple threat."  That means she can "sing, dance and act."  And a career in one of these areas is Sydney's passion.  She's been taking dance lessons for ten years already, so it's certainly not a passing fancy; and she was bit seriously by the acting bug in fifth grade when she took part in a Loveland High School performance, after she tried out and made the children's chorus.  Sydney remembers coming off the stage that first night and thinking, "Wow, that was awesome."  "I was just really happy," she says, and so that's how she got into acting.

I asked her if she was excited about going into eighth grade.  "No, not really," she replied honestly, with a little laugh.  Then she did say she was looking forward to trying out for the plays, under director Shawn Miller.  (If you've never seen a LMS stage production, trust me, you're missing out on great work by a lot of talented young people.)

Sydney at acting camp, second from left.

I had talked to Sydney briefly at school, one day in June, when visiting Mr. Dave Fletcher's classes to talk about my bicycle rides across the United States.  It didn't take long to figure out that Ms. Mahon was a cheerful, upbeat young lady.  Now, when I had her on the phone, I asked her to describe herself.  She hesitated at first, then said, "Well...I'm nice to people."  That's a telling start and a good one.  She went on to say, "I'll open up to them if they really have a problem," then she admitted, "I'm pretty active," so she doesn't have as much time to talk and hang out as she might like.

Monica, her mom, remembers the date at once when I ask her how long her daughter has been a type-1 diabetic:  "August 15, 2005."  She remembers when Sydney was young that she was embarrassed to let other kids at school know she was.  Later, they hit a rough patch in sixth grade, when Sydney stopped checking her blood at night.  When mom asked, she'd...um...well, she'd lie...and say she had checked and make up some number.

"That was a bad scene," mom says now; but they are past it. 

You can tell from talking to Mrs. Mahon and then talking to Sydney that this is a young lady who seriously has her act together.  Her older sister, MacKenzie, is also big in theater and this summer both girls hope to spend a week at Camp Korelitz with other diabetic kids.  (MacKenzie, going into her sophomore year at Loveland, is not diabetic but will be working as a counselor.)

Last year Sydney made the seventh grade cheerleading squad, but thought she might have to choose between cheering practice and the week of camp at Korelitz.  It was looking like a tough choice, but Sydney was adamant about going to camp--but in the end the cheerleading coach and Sydney managed to work it all out.

Being diabetic isn't exactly good; but Sydney has had some good experiences.  When she was really little she and her sister went to an American Idol concert.  One of the contestants was diabetic and someone in charge noticed the girls' t-shirts mentioning diabetes and they ended up being invited back stage.  The performer with type-1 diabetes wasn't there, but Ace Young, another contestant, sat Sydney down and they talked for fifteen minutes.

Mom says, enthusiastically, that Ace was "totally hunky," which gives me a good laugh.

Last year, at diabetes camp, Sydney won tickets to a Jonas Brothers concert and got to go back stage again.  Nick Jonas is also a type-1 diabetic and pulled Sydney aside and gave her a necklace.  On the reverse it read:  "A little bit longer and I'll be fine."

Sydney and I talk a little bit longer and I gathered a few random details:  I ask if she's into boys yet, or not there.  "Oh, I'm there," she says immediately.  I find out she's a pretty good student, too, and liked Mr. John Wise's class best in seventh grade.  Why Mr. Wise, I wondered.  "He's funny," she said, "just a good teacher, overall."  She's good friends, "close" she says, with Alyssa Heal, also a Loveland cheerleader and also going into the eight grade.  Alyssa, too, is a type-1 diabetic.  The two friends don't dwell on it when they get together, but sometimes they'll see each other at the school nurse's office when they go to check their blood, and one will ask the other, "What was your number?"

Finally, Sydney admits being diabetic can make her "sad" occasionally, or "cranky," but you can almost tell she's smiling when she says so. 

Afterall, she's a positive girl.

Sydney, right, before she was diabetic, when eating ice cream wasn't a hassle.
MacKenzie is at left.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page.  There, click again on "donate to this event."  Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."

Nicole Ayers: Easy Rider

Nicole and her boyfriend.

I've been procrastinating lately.  I'm home for a couple more days, after bicycling from Maine to Cincinnati, and I have several young type-1 diabetics I'd like to profile. 

Today, it was my great pleasure to speak to Nicole Ayers, a brand new graduate of Loveland High School, Class of 2011.  I first met Nicole when she was in seventh grade and rode in her name, among others, when I did my first ride across the United States in 2007, to raise money to find a cure for juvenile diabetes.

Nicole is not your "typical girl" and I mean that as a compliment.  First, Nicole likes to go deer hunting with her dad; and most Friday nights you can find her on the skeet range, practicing her shooting.  I asked her how many targets she could hit and she laughed and said, "I once hit 99 out of 100, but that was on a good day."

Nicole laughs a lot, by the way, which is part of her endearing personality.  She may be a diabetic but she refuses to let that get her down.  Senior year she got a jump on her college career and took classes at the Clermont branch of the University of Cincinnati.  What are you planning on studying next, I inquired.  "Nursing," Nicole laughed again.  Why, I wondered.  "The nurses at Children's Hospital were so great, I just want to help people the way they helped me."

With Ms. Ayers, who has a big heart anyway, you kind of knew that answer was coming.  So she'll be enrolled in a nursing program at the Galen School of Nursing, which is located here in Cincinnati, starting next fall.

Nicole is ready to ride.

What else has this young lady been up to lately?  She's babysitting three days a week to bring in some much-needed tuition money.  She's also practicing riding her motorcycle so she can get her license.  Her dad made sure she got a Susuzki Savage 650 (nicknamed "Leroy") to cruise around on as kind of a graduation present.  Nicole goes to Kings Island a lot, goes to the Loveland Christian Church every Sunday, as she has all during her life, and hangs out with her older sister, Danielle, 21, and her long-time boyfriend, John Hughes.  She met him at the shooting range where she was shooting and he was working, two-and-a-half years ago. 

I backed up a little and asked Nicole to tell me what she liked best about hunting with her father.  Sometimes she says they'll be sitting in the blind, waiting for animals, and "if it get's boring he'll make a joke or if I miss a shot he says it's 'okay,' and we'll get it next time."  Then she laughs again and says, "I'm like his boy...the boy he never had."

She's a good one.

I asked Nicole, for the heck of it, to describe herself.  She said "funny, at least I try to be funny," "roll with the punches," "live your life to the fullest."

I had Danielle offer some big sister insight.  She said Nicole was "funny," "crazy," "LOUD," "a good sister," and "always has a good time."

I think you get the idea.

When I talked to the two young ladies, they had just arrived for a visit with their grandparents down near Gatlinburg, Tennessee.  Nicole mentioned they were camping, then corrected herself and said, "Well, we're staying with them in their mobile home, so I guess it's not really camping."  Go carts and miniature golf are on the schedule.

The Ayers family:
dad, John Hughes, mom, Nicole, Danielle

I've mentioned this before on this blog, but talking to these kids is inspiring.  Nicole is living her life to the fullest, and doing it without ever losing her smile.  I finished by asking her, if they found a cure, how would her life be different?  With yet another laugh, she admitted, "It would be so much more chill, like a teenager's life should be, just being  able to do what you want without worrying about going high or low.  Like yesterday, I was playing softball [for her church team] and I checked my blood before the game and it was 68, so I ate a bunch of Skittles."

Unfortunately, Nicole had a little too much candy and the nerves of playing and heat made her feel a little queasy and she says she told teammates "I think I'm going to throw up a rainbow."

I'm sure the other players appreciated Nicole's sense of humor; but I suspect they still took a couple of steps backwards.

Nicole?  She's a type-1 diabetic.  But she's not taking any steps backwards.  She's not feeling sorry for herself.  She's going forward to a bright future.  Someday, in years to come, if you see Nurse Ayers walking into your room, you can bet you're going to be in good hands; and she'll be wearing a smile.

When I'm old, I hope she ends up as my nurse.





Being a diabetic doesn't slow Nicole down.


If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page.  There, click again on "donate to this event."  Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."

Death-Defying Ohio Ride Ends Happily

WELL, I’M BACK HOME for a few days of R & R and all my appendages are still attached, which is always an excellent result. After 1,200 miles, I’ve even lost a few pounds, but not enough yet to try out for modeling jobs.

Any long-distance bicycler can tell you that you have a lot of time to think when you’re riding solo, in my case, across the United States.  

Here is some of what I’ve been thinking:

1) Ohio is the WORST for bicycling. The Ohio Department of Transportation believes that if you paint a white line on the edge of the pavement and leave six inches of overlap on the side, bicyclers and cars can share the same roadway. It doesn’t matter if in places that tiny shoulder is broken into jagged bits. It doesn’t matter if there’s a two-foot drop off into a ditch. It wouldn’t matter if you had to try to ride along the edge of the road with cars whizzing by on your left and the Grand Canyon on your right; ODOT would refuse to add an extra foot of pavement or a guard rail.

So you ride across the Buckeye State at your peril.

2) Other than frayed nerves, I got home in good shape and met plenty of nice people along the way. One night, I stopped for dinner at an Applebee’s in Hudson, Ohio. Manager Bob Grady, or “Grady” as everyone calls him, came over to talk after Ema Loucek, my waitress, told him I was riding to raise money for JDRF. Grady has one son, who has multiple scholarship offers for college, so he’s justifiably proud. He asked me to fill out an on-line survey, saying Ema did a great job (she did) and then paid my bill. If I’d known that was coming, I would have ordered dessert.

My rule on “free meals” is this: The savings count as another donation to JDRF. I set the money I would have spent aside and that’s $15 more for the cause.

3) “Stealth camping” is a cheap way to see America. On a bike, if you don’t want to pay for a real camping spot, it’s easy to sneak into the woods or set up your tent on the edge of some farmer’s field. Stealth camping etiquette requires that you a) never leave trash behind; b) never squash crops; c) keep a can of Mace handy in case there are axe-murdering farmers around.

4) Stealth camping bicycle riders can and will become malodorous.

5) It is NOT fun to bicycle across America during monsoon season. I was rained on for all or parts of nine days.

Stealth camping bicycle riders smell better after a good wash from Mother Nature.



This is what I saw for about half my trip.

6) People are nice, part two. At breakfast in Medina, Ohio one day, at the kind of cafe you only find in small towns nowadays, I struck up a conversation with Corey Kujian and his wife Shannon Conley. Corey has hiked parts of the Appalachian Trail. So he has the adventurous spirit I respect. Shannon is a history teacher at Medina High, clearly a dedicated one, and enthusiastic in her work, and they have two charming young children (whose names I failed to ask). Corey wondered if they could donate to the cause (the answer is always “yes”) and handed over a crisp $20 bill.

So that keeps me going strong.

7) There are a lot of random baseball hats and shoes lying along the roads. But beer cans and bottles predominate. I have, however, seen only one bra. You wonder if there aren’t a lot of hatless, shoeless people wandering around the country, and maybe some drunk chick going topless now. I never see any martini glasses littering the highways, though, just beer containers. I think this has something to do with the fact that martini drinkers are more sophisticated.

8) You should not leave your phone sitting on your sleeping bag on the back of your bike and try to pedal across America – unless you want to take your chances on some kind gentleman finding it, calling your wife, and telling her he’ll send it back in the mail.

I lost my phone that way...and Kevin promised Anne that he’d send it soon. So, for now, I’ve got no new pictures to post from my trip.

If you do happen to pass a bicycle rider in Ohio someday, give him or her plenty of room. If it’s me, and you don’t, I’ll be screaming like a baby.

I Brake for Moose.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page. There, click again on “donate to this event.”  Then click “Biking and Painting for Diabetes.”

Seated...in One Spot

Right now, I'm sitting on a different kind of seat:  wider, comfortable, stationary unless I decide to tilt back and admire my prose. I'm in the library in Warren, Ohio.

I've been picking up the pace the last few days because my daughter, Abby, will be in Cincinnati over the Fourth of July weekend. Originally, I didn't think I had much chance to make it back in time to see her; but my legs are working well and I've done 436 miles in the last five days.

That doesn't include the 1 (one!!) I've logged so far today.

The riding has vastly improved since rain stopped two days ago, although when I came out of the last big hills in New York and started down the shore of Lake Erie, expecting easy, flat pedaling, I caught a ferocious head wind that slowed me up all afternoon and into the evening.  It was a beautiful ride, though, on Highway 5, right along the lake shore, and just about dark I ran into a trio of riders who were also going cross country, like me. They were already stopped at a motel and I toyed with stopping there, too, but wanted to find a campground...and they were breaking off their ride the following day in any case (planning to do the ride across America in four yearly 3-week installments). So we shared a few stories from the road and then I had to get going before the sun set entirely and I ended up bicycling in the dark.

Once again, I failed to remember their names (a theme so far on this trip): mom, dad, and Beth, their daughter, about 28, and a teacher of inner-city kids down in Jacksonville, Florida, in the K-2 grades. I asked how she liked teaching and she replied, "I love it."

I could have said the same myself.

Donations continue to come in from all kinds of people, including a lot of former students, and I am much gratified by the kind support. I'm going to be pedaling through the Bath/Richfield area, where I grew up, once I get motivated today. On July 1, I should be going through Columbus and on the 2nd I'll be cruising home for a short break.

Yesterday, I rode from State Line, New York (literally, 100 yards from the Pennsylvania border), through Erie, Pennsylvania and then south 60 miles on a bicycle trail from Ashtabula, Ohio to the Warren, Ohio area.

The roads in five states: Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, New York and Pennsylvania had excellent wide shoulders and I felt very safe. Then, no joke, I hit the sign that said, "Welcome to Ohio." And right there the wide shoulders vanished as suddenly and completely as Jimmy Hoffa.

Still, I had an interesting thought the other day, when the headwind was killing me and making me wish I'd remained seated on the couch at home. Most of the type-1 diabetics I've talked to, young kids mostly, are despite their youth more philosophical than me. They ride against the wind every day, so to speak. They deal with hills and headwinds, insulin and pumps and shots, and keep plowing straight ahead, usually with very little complaint.

So, I decided to stop cursing the wind and keep going on my way. I made 106 miles yesterday. I hope that gets us 106 miles closer to a cure.

Well, it's almost noon and I've only got that 1 mile in for the day. This typing is making me hungry. I need to go find a place for lunch.

Hi, oh, Silver, and away!  Time to get riding, folks.

I added this picture here in 2022, long after my ride.
My daughter, who still battles type-1 diabetes had twins in 2021.
I hope Prosper, left, and Story, right, never need insulin shots.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page.  There, click again on "donate to this event."  Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."

Soggy Bottom Days

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I'll be riding out of New York state this afternoon and I've hardly seen the sun peak out from behind the clouds yet. I've been on the road for eleven days and rained on for seven. Not a light rain, either. If you want to know what the weather has been like go put on a bicycle helmet, t-shirt, gym shorts and biking shoes. Put on a pair of glasses, too, even if you don't normally wear them.

Now go stand in the shower and turn it on full force. Be sure your glasses steam up so you can't see. That's what the riding has been like at times in this state.

It's causing a lot of soggy underwear.

Otherwise, the trip is going well. The roads in this state have the wide shoulders that make bicycling much, much safer. I've been passing through all kinds of quaint little towns and the people are very friendly, too. When I stopped for lunch today (after another downpour) a woman named Frances Griffith stopped to chat. Hearing that I was raising money for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation she immediately reached in her purse and handed over a $10 bill.

A couple of days ago, I passed through the hometown of Frank Baum, the author of the Wizard of Oz, and noticed the sidewalks were actually made of yellow bricks. But I didn't stop to take any pictures--because it was raining. I also passed within a few miles of Palmyra, New York, where Joseph Smith uncovered the golden plates that became the Book of Mormon and launched a new religion. I didn't stop there, either. It was too damp and dreary. I did manage to stop in Seneca Falls to see the Women's Heritage Museum. Seneca Falls is the site of the first convention, in 1848, to begin the push for women's rights. It's hard to believe that for centuries the dumbest man on the face of the earth had more basic freedoms than the most talented woman. 

Sadly, it's true.

Harder than peddling a bicycle: some Mormons traveled from Missouri to Utah in 1846,
pulling all their possessions in handcarts.

That's one reason I've always been liberal: because conservatives have been freaking out about how change was going to destroy society for centuries. The convention at Seneca Falls was headed up by Elizabeth Cady Stanton; but Susan B. Anthony was not directly involved in the movement until 1851. After that, one historian has said, Stanton and Anthony were like "two drumsticks" keeping up a constant beat for equal rights. The contest was long and arduous, and defeats were common every year, but I've always liked Anthony's attitude. Asked once by a young female reporter if she expected to live to see women vote, she said no, but added, "Failure is impossible."

Not a bad way to look at the world--after she had persevered for more than fifty years.

Perseverance is always the key: So I'm going to go pedal some more.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page.  There, click again on "donate to this event."  Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."

New Pictures From The Trip

On a bike you have to earn the chance to see the scenery,
near Kancamagus Pass, N. H.

I haven’t had much chance to update my story lately. It’s been raining almost every day, and I’ve been pedaling a lot: 103 miles three days ago, then 80, then 75, and 50 so far today. I did have the chance to visit the museum in Seneca Falls, New York. There in 1848, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and others helped launch the modern women’s right movement.   

Before Stanton came along (and then joined forces with Susan B. Anthony) women had few rights. They couldn’t vote. They couldn’t control property once they were married and in cases of divorce the husband gained custody automatically. 

Clothes included hoop skirts (1850s, 60s) and then the bustle (70s, 80s). The corset was in fashion for most of the 19th century and could be laced so tight that some women fainted as a result.  

Any sacrifice for style!

Find your business niche and the customers will find you.

The cyclist at the museum.
That's Frederick Douglass peering over my shoulder.

I think the lady with the parasol is Stanton.
(I should have written it down.)

Combination bustle and corset, c. 1870s.

Resting my feet near the Swift River.

A woman's place, before the convention at Seneca Falls.

Damp Somewhere in America

Let me say today that it's raining in New York State.  I could have posted the same sentence yesterday and the day before the only variation would have been "in Vermont."

I like bicycling and like raising money for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation but let me make this clear. I am not a duck.

Here's what I learned when being poured on in Vermont. If you are wearing glasses like me and rely on a mirror attached to those glasses to provide visibility to the rear, this is what you cannot see once your glasses and the mirror fog over:

1. road signs
2. potholes
3. pedestrians
4. small farm animals
5. blimps
6. any cars within a mile
7. picturesque New England churches
8. picturesque New England towns
9. picturesque New England scenery
10. basically anything...

So, yeah, riding in the rain isn't all that much fun.

Otherwise, this has been a good stretch; when it's dry New England is beautiful and most of the roads have been safe, with wide shoulders. There are some KILLER hills, however.  The Middle Gap from Hancock to Middlebury has grades as much as 15%. Even the road along the western shore of Lake George had a long uphill stretch that slowed me in places to "stand-on-the-pedal" and try-to-move-forward speed.  It's not too bad going up a steep road at 4 mph.  When you get down to 2.6 and you're straining every muscle in your legs and sweating profusely, it gets hard to be philosophical and enjoy your trip.

Then you curse.

As I mentioned briefly, two nights ago Molly and Bud Reed put me up at their house in Middlebury for the night. Bud used to have his own business organizing bicycle tours and he and Molly have led rides in places like Russia and China. They know more about biking than I ever will and were wonderful hosts. Last year they took a family trip, nine months, around the world with Spencer, their 14-year-old son and Rachel, their 19-year-old daughter. Rachel is a top student, now attending Johns Hopkins.  Spencer is your typical guy, smart, but not necessarily fond of school. (It reminds me of when I was young and  managed, for example, to earn an "F" in art, because of a bad attitude.) I should have taken a picture of the Reeds but didn't think of it during the evening and left early the next day before my hosts arose.

I give them an A+ for their treatment and pleasant conversation, including talks with their friend Tim, also an avid cyclist and a former Government Accountability worker in Washington, D.C., who shared stories of trying to keep tabs on various agencies that might be, shall we say, "bending the rules." Bud threw together a great meal, and ended it all with ice cream and strawberries topped with Molly's homemade chocolate syrup.

Yesterday, I did another 63 miles (I hope to pick up the pace soon). My policy for picking places to eat is to do what the locals do. In fact, it's almost foolproof if you follow this rule: Go where the guys in baseball caps and work clothes go--and you're going to get a lot of good food. I passed Fort Ticonderoga yesterday, scene of heavy fighting during the French and Indian War and military ineptitude in the American Revolution. The British lost the fort without a shot being fired early in the war and Ethan Allen became a hero. Then the Americans lost it back, because portions of their defenses were compromised by drunkenness among the troops.

Then I churned out the miles down the Lake George road and had dinner at the Diamond Point Grille.  First, dinner was awesome. I would recommend the Grille to any bicycler or car-driver or camel jockey following 9N along the lake. Better yet, a woman named Beth Thomson was seated at the bar with three friends and spun around on her stool to ask how far I was going. When I said, "California," she and her friends, Greg Mason and Anthony and Lois Porrazzo, began asking about my ride and my purpose.  Beth told me about her three kids, and sounded a little worried about her son, who was going to Weber State in Utah last year, but is now home and taking classes at community college. Then she mentioned to her friends that the young man was doing 70 hours of work between two part-time jobs. You figure anyone who can work that hard will do fine in life.

Eventually, Greg stepped outside to make a phone call and when he returned sat down with me and said he had fixed it with a friend, who owned a nearby Super 8 Motel, so that I could stay for free, since I was riding for JDRF. Greg is a retired music teacher and we talked "shop." I asked him the question I ask almost every teacher or former teacher I meet. "Do you think standardized testing is improving education?" He laughed and said, "I was a music teacher," meaning it didn't effect him and he was glad, "but, no."

I worry about that a lot. But I finished my meal and told the four friends I'd mention them in this blog. "How do you want to be described," I wondered, "as the best looking quartet in the bar?" They laughed and said no, just four locals. So four nice locals from Lake George, New York it is. I jumped on my bike and off I went, excited by the prospect of a dry (free) room for the night. About a mile down the road Anthony came flying past in his car, honked, and then pulled over and said, "You left your money and credit cards back at the restaurant." The people who worked there wouldn't give them to Anthony; so I had to pedal back to pick them up. 

Then off I went again.

My only regret is that I failed to buy them all a round of beers.

That's my update for now. Back to the bike Batman!

Abigail Adams reminded her husband John: "Remember the ladies,"
when writing the Declaration of Independence.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE!