Cycling Through Their Midlives

 In spite of what I’m told by my neighbors in the senior apartment complex where I live—and, at times, my body—I am in, ahem, midlife.

I don’t believe I’m in denial. (Does anybody ever believe they are?) I do, however, fear that one day I may not be able to continue cycling —at least, not in the way I always have. I’ve been reminded, by a few peoples, of octogenarian (I’m not there yet!) Joe Biden falling off his bike. Did those people secretly vote for the Fake Tan Fūhrer?

If the day ever comes when I can’t balance my trusty Mercians, I hope I still can keep on pedaling in some fashion. Matthew Stepeniak of Hudson, Wisconsin gives me hope. He got a side-by-side tandem so his 92-year-old mother Nancy, for whom he is the caregiver, could ride with him.

Nancy Stepaniak on the side-by-side tandem she rides with her son Matthew, who provided this photo to Wisconsin Public Radio.

He recalls that the first time they rode together, they didn’t get very far because they were stopped so many times by curious people. He then knew that he was onto something special, which led him to co-found Limitless Cycling, a nonprofit that provides adaptive bicycles and equipment for people of all abilities to enjoy the outdoors. It’s now a Wisconsin chapter of Cycling Without Age.

“I am just a boy who wanted to give his mother a bicycle,” he recalls. “And things just got out of control in the most beautiful way.”

Cycling Without Age began in 2012, when Ole Kassow of Denmark acquired a three-wheeled pedal-powered “trishaw” and began giving rides to local senior citizens. From a one-man operation, CWA became an international organization; the first US chapter opened four years later in Wisconsin—in Oshkosh, to be exact.

The organization is still young. And folks like Kassow and Stepaniak are keeping people cycling—and in midlife.

Growing His Passion In Soddy-Daisy

 Here in New York City, we have Hell Gate, Hell's Kitchen and Gravesend.

There are other funny, interesting and unusual place names all over the world.  I think now "Cheesequake," in New Jersey, just a couple of towns over from where I went to high school  And Condom, in the southwest of France (I've been there)-- which, of course doesn't have the same meaning in English.  Speaking of English, there's Upperthong, in West Yorkshire.

For a cuter, more family-friendly toponym, how about Soddy-Daisy in Tennessee?  

Somehow I imagine that there must be some interesting people in a place like that.  How can you not move--or tell people you're from--there without at least cracking a smile.

One of the folks in that place is probably one of the first I'd want to meet:  Tom Jamison.

Tom Jamison.  Photo by Matt Hamilton, for the Chattanooga Times-Free Press

He bought his first bike as an adult in 1997.  But, he says, he didn't start putting in "serious mileage" until  retired as a Tennessee Valley Authority project manager at age 50, in 2004.  Almost immediately, he jumped on his bike and pedaled over 500 miles to Orlando, Florida for a vacation with his daughter.  

Since then, he reckons he's pedaled 160,000-170,000 miles.  With his riding buddies, he does two or three trips a year.  "I even pedaled to Hampton, Virginia for a high school reunion," he recalls.  "They were in amazement."

He's done about 100,000 miles, he figures, on his go-to bike:  a Trek 520.  From looking at his photo, I have little doubt he'll make it to another reunion--whether on that bike or another, from a town called Soddy-Daisy.