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Bicyclist rides against hunger Photo by Bob Pennell David Michael Anthony, 28, says he's gained 35 pounds -- all muscle -- since he left Southern California on a 20,000-mile bike trek to train for the Olympics and raise money for hunger programs. He pulls a specially designed trailer with all his gear -- total weight, 950 pounds. Sees cross-country fund-raiser as training for Olympic trials By BILL VARBLE Most people would be daunted at the prospect of riding over the Siskiyou Summit on a bicycle, towing a half-ton trailer. Not David Michael Anthony. In pedaling around North America, he has been hit by a car in Wisconsin, ripped off by thieves in Seattle and menaced by a panther in Florida. Mere mountains? He seeks them out. "I'm trying to hit as many hills as possible," the 28-year-old Olympic hopeful says. That's easy on the 20,000-mile odyssey Anthony undertook to raise money to fight hunger while getting himself ready for the 2000 Olympics. He began Feb. 14, 1998, in Newport Beach, Calif., rode to Key West, Fla. as a 4,000-mile warm-up, headed up the Eastern Seaboard to Portland, Maine, and across Canada to Anchorage, Alaska. He left Anchorage Jan. 27 and is heading back to Key West via San Diego. That's the short version. He'll hit 49 states. Anthony looked fit and intense in blue road gear as talked about his trip Monday in Medford, where he spent the night in a motel. He says he used spiked tires to ride out of Alaska, although the highway was kept fairly clear. Biking in Alaska and Canada in the winter meant carrying more stuff than usual because of the great distances between supplies. "I had to be 100 percent self-sufficient," he says. He slept in a tent and melted ice and snow for water. He says the worst thing that's happened on the trip was when three bikes worth $8,000 were stolen in Washington -- a road bike, a track bike and a mountain bike. "I thought, `Good Lord, I'm raising money for hunger!"' he says. The bike he's riding now is a 21-speed mountain bike geared for hills. It's put together from so many different makes he says he can no longer say what it is. The handlebars, his own design, permit a half-dozen riding positions. Behind the bike comes the custom-built trailer, which carries camping gear, tools, clothes and bike stuff, 950 pounds in all. A little trailer is hooked onto the main one. With his flag-flying, decal-covered rig behind him, Anthony is hard to miss -- which may be why he hasn't had more trouble with cars on the road. "They're pretty good," he says. Except in Wisconsin, where he was hit broadside by an 80-year-old bingo player with a carload of friends. He was hospitalized with a shoulder injury and rode the next week and a half with his arm in a sling. In his pre-bike-trip life, Anthony lived in Newport Beach, Calif., and was a mechanical engineer. He rounded up a roster of personal sponsors as well as some corporate ones for the ride to raise money for agencies that help the homeless and disaster victims: World Hunger Year, National Emergency Hunger Lifeline, the Harry Chapin Food Bank and the Salvation Army. He hopes to raise $2.5 million. He says all money raised goes to those organizations. Anthony can be contacted by voice mail at 1-800-HUNGRY2, or by e-mail at: [email protected] "David Anthony is such an incredible human being," says Executive Director John Mennell of the Hunger Lifeline. He says those wanting to pledge support can call the 800 number. Anthony says the brush with the panther came in a campground. Not knowing what to do, he impulsively ran at the animal, screaming. The cat ran off, but the camp host told Anthony in the morning, "You're supposed to run away from them, not at them." Anthony's scariest moment came on Washington's Snoqualmie Pass, where he found himself hurtling downhill at almost 50 mph unable to do anything but hold on. His trailer has no brakes and relies on bike and rider to stop. The 6-foot, 2-inch Anthony says he's gained 35 pounds on his trip, up to 220 pounds from 185. "It's muscle," he says. "On my legs and butt." He carries an assortment of protein drinks, dietary supplements and vitamins. He shoots for making 80 to 100 miles a day, but it varies widely. He figures pulling the trailer on flat ground is like pedaling a bike on a 6 percent upgrade. Each hill is a major workout. He doesn't listen to music because he doesn't want to be distracted. He says it's the hardest thing he's ever done, and he thinks when it's time for the Olympics, he'll have the mental toughness that comes from 20,000 miles of making like a Peterbilt. "You can't train this hard," he says. "It's scary how fast I am." Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA