Why I PMC guest blog by Bob Casey, 4-year PMC rider
Reflections on my PMC Adventures
I have now ridden the PMC three times. I have found it to be fun, humbling, emotional and gratifying all in a slightly masochistic way. I tell everyone I get more out of it than I put into it…this from a guy who has ridden close to 6500 miles since April 16th 2023. When I tell people this, the so far unanimous response is “You’re crazy.”
Each year has been different. The first year I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just riding along following people. The route is well marked but I’m not looking at signs. You do not generally ride on highways. There are lefts, rights, uphills, and downhills. I start at the back because I think I ride slower than most. We are in farm country, horse country and very rural areas. I generally have no idea what town I’m in. About mid way through the ride the first day I look up and there is no one in view. I have this flash of panic because I think I have missed a turn and am now lost. This is a big deal because it means instead of riding 109 miles the first day, which I have never done, I will probably ride 120 miles. One of the great things about the PMC is the support by everyone. People come out and cheer, ring cow bells, and have signs. At this point I’m in a rural area and there is no one…riders or spectators. I come around a corner and in the middle of nowhere, is a woman sitting out by the road by herself in front of what I assume is her house. She looks up and starts ringing her cow bell. As I rode by I thanked her and told her she was my lighthouse. I watched all the signs after that. The first day of the ride was my birthday…best birthday ever.
The second year the only thing that’s the same is the route. The weather is 95 degrees and 95% humidity. At 4:30 in the morning the first day I sit down to have breakfast at the hotel and start talking to Marci and her 17 year old son Jake. They are from California north of San Francisco. I’m thinking why are you here…it’s 1:30 your time. Jake tells me he saw this ride and thought it would be fun. I eventually find out that Jakes dad had passed away from cancer and he was riding his dad’s bike in his honor. At about 5:45 I’m on the road. It’s about 2 miles from the hotel to the route 84 overpass. When I get there I look and feel like I’ve ridden through a car wash. I remember thinking “OK only 107 more miles of this. Later in the day I’m somewhere between 70-80 miles in, I’m on new pavement which is very smooth, very black, and very hot. I am miserable. I am coming up to a Y intersection where I need to take a left. On my right the sidewalk is filled with spectators, cheering, thanking me for riding, ringing cowbells and holding up signs. The only sign I have time to read says “Remember why you are doing this.” All my self pity disappeared. I call this my God Moment.
2025, my third year, I think everyone except me thinks this is now automatic. There are a lot of things that can go wrong. My training was broken up in the middle of June because of a two week trip to Ireland for a wedding. I’m not complaining…we had a great time… it just wasn’t conducive to training.
Once we got back I rode more than 230 miles per week for three weeks and then took the fourth week off to rest my legs. At that point as Coach Lobo would say “the hay is in the barn”.
As you get closer to the ride you start to obsess about things that you have no control over. Ten days out I start looking at the weather for the weekend of the ride. During training I look at the weather in a couple of hours before riding…it says all clear and I end up in a thunderstorm. I realize this is crazy but I do it anyway. I was reading the news feed on my phone about 5 days before the ride and it says…Total solar eclipse August 2 which is the first day of the ride. I’m thinking where the heck did this come from? OK I may not have said heck. I click the article and find out its August 2, 2027 somewhere in Africa or Asia….now you know too. Not sure why my smart phone felt I needed to know this.
Friday night is the opening ceremony of for the ride. It’s a time to hang out and meet other riders. I am by far one of the riders with the least amount of time participating. They have shirt that says “We’re not the Mafia…we’re not a cult…but you can never get out.” On Friday night we sat with the Bicknell’s…for you BC people…related to Jack Bicknell. Len and Dolly who are I think older than me have ridden for 40 years. The opening ceremonies are very emotional they really show the results of all the work the PMC has done. That night as I’m going to bed I start to feel a little tickle in my throat….just what I need.
The next morning I’m up at 4 so I can get to the hotel and have some breakfast before the ride starts at 5:30. The tickle in my throat has become some congestion which is just something I’ll need to deal with. I take up a position at the start in the back. It’s 51 degrees at 5:15 and I’m cold. Completely different from the previous year. Due to the congestion and the tickle in my throat the night before I’m paying attention to my heart rate which is running 125-135 early in the ride. This is dramatically higher than any of my training rides where I’m generally in the high 90’s to low 100’s. I was initially a little concerned until I figured out that I was not on the bike trail in Connecticut but in the hills of Sturbridge.
About 70 miles in my right hamstring started to cramp up. I’d shake it out and it would settle down but then cramp up again. This was potentially a real problem since I only had 116 more miles to go to complete the ride. When I go on long training rides I bring salted peanuts and peanut butter crackers to eat. I figured out that I wasn’t getting enough salt from the electrolytes so at the next stop I started eating bags of potato chips instead of as much fruit. It basically settled everything down. I find it a little strange potato chips became my breakfast of champions.
Once I made it through the Lakeville stop it’s pretty much downhill to Bourne which is at sea level on the Cape Cod Canal. Coming into the Lakeville rest area is one of the toughest parts of the ride. The approach is slightly up hill…the tough part is that is where they post all the poster boards of the kids dealing with cancer. They are so young and happy This year I had a very small tangential connection to one of the kids. I have never met Gavin and I knew he was struggling but it caught me by surprise. If you can, say a prayer for Gavin.
We stay in the dorms at Mass Maritime. Here is a picture of the sunset from my room on the 6th floor.
Mass Maritime is a quasi military school that has no elevators. I had to walk up 6 flights of stairs to get this view after riding 109 miles. Nice view.
I continued to monitor my salt intake by eating among other things several pieces of pepperoni pizza at dinner. About 2:30 in the morning I woke up with some heartburn. I got up 4 to get ready to go and get some breakfast. On Saturday they bring your bags up to your room. On Sunday you need to carry them down. I was up early enough to get some coffee this year. We left early enough to catch the sunrise over the Bourne Bridge this year. This is what it looked like on the canal after we got off the bridge.
The ride was pretty uneventful on Sunday until I got about 160 miles in. I had just ridden up a pretty big hill on my way to Wellfleet. Up ahead I saw a woman wearing a green shirt with the number 9 on the back. The number 9 was Ted Williams’ number. I rode over and asked her if she was with the Red Sox riders who were riding this year in honor of 
Tim and Stacy Wakefield who died within 5 months of each other from cancer. As it turns out she was. I told her I thought it was an outstanding thing they were doing to honor the Wakefields. We talked for about maybe 10 minutes. She told me she was Kathryn Nixon…Trot Nixon’s wife. She had ridden the PMC six times before. I told her this was only my third year but of course went into my ego moment of 45 minutes after I turned 70, I jumped on a bike and rode from Sturbridge to Provincetown. We end up getting separated by a big downhill and head into the rest area in Wellfleet. I tell my buddy John about it but don’t see her…I assume she’s doing interviews. As John and I are getting ready to go she comes up to us and says how much she enjoyed the conversation…hills will do that to you. I introduce her to John and ask her if anyone else is doing the two day ride. She says yes…the Timlins and here they come. She introduces us and she goes right into my ego story…I was stunned someone was listening to me. In any event I wasn’t going to be a fanboy but my friend John was getting a picture with Mike so I jumped on that because my roommates would never have believed me.
Tim and Stacy Wakefield who died within 5 months of each other from cancer. As it turns out she was. I told her I thought it was an outstanding thing they were doing to honor the Wakefields. We talked for about maybe 10 minutes. She told me she was Kathryn Nixon…Trot Nixon’s wife. She had ridden the PMC six times before. I told her this was only my third year but of course went into my ego moment of 45 minutes after I turned 70, I jumped on a bike and rode from Sturbridge to Provincetown. We end up getting separated by a big downhill and head into the rest area in Wellfleet. I tell my buddy John about it but don’t see her…I assume she’s doing interviews. As John and I are getting ready to go she comes up to us and says how much she enjoyed the conversation…hills will do that to you. I introduce her to John and ask her if anyone else is doing the two day ride. She says yes…the Timlins and here they come. She introduces us and she goes right into my ego story…I was stunned someone was listening to me. In any event I wasn’t going to be a fanboy but my friend John was getting a picture with Mike so I jumped on that because my roommates would never have believed me.He is much bigger than I thought. If his arm is in as good a shape as the rest of him…we should sign him for September. During our short conversation I asked if he was doing the dunes…which he was not…so I go “You know they say you haven’t done the PMC unless you experience the Dunes”. No one is safe. The rest of the ride was route 6 in Truro and then the Dunes. I obviously survived to write this AI would probably do a better job.
My friend John and I at the finish.
Me and my biggest supporter.
Thank you all for your support.