Things I Don't Want To Forget
The trouble with even writing this stuff down is that it just sounds like simple actions, as if it were as easy as picking up a spoon. There is really no way to tell you about the pain, fear, or thrill, so I won't try. But I can assure you it's a whole different plane of experience. And these three days were exactly what I had hoped to do in Spain.
The race translates to Three Days of Climbing. The profiles appear flat, but there was a lot of climbing. All the stages started and ended in Santiago, the place where tons of pilgrims end their journey across northern Spain. The church itself was beautiful and so were the narrow cobble stone streets in the surrounding old part of town.
To get there, we took the two team cars, bikes and wheels secured to the top, drafting each other on the freeway at 90-100mph for 9 hours like an embassy cartel through Iraq.
1st day
Attacking, bridging, counterattacking through the rolling hills.
Finally feeling comfortable in navigating a peloton of 140 racers, 125 of which are better than me.
The flurry of bits of aluminum foil that fly through the peloton on descents as everyone starts grabbing at their food stores.
Sam saying into the earpiece: "You have try to attack until you can't pedal any more." Going off the front with 20k to go with two other guys, pouring everything I had left into it, hoping to set up a counter attack for Oso.
Getting dropped with 10k to go. Happy with how much I worked.
Eating with the team, pasta and rice and coffee and cereal and fruit for breakfast, salad and pasta and rice and chicken for dinner, all in huge quantities.
Being so tired that I had a hard time focusing on my food at dinner time. I was a wreak, totally exhausted from the day's effort. Very unsure that I would be able to complete the next day. One of the best races of my life today though. Really felt like I was racing, rather than just participating.
Checking out the rolling green countryside with farms and cows and stone fences.
My teammates telling me good job, surprised I made it through the day.
The awesome hotel rooms.
2nd day
Getting into a break early in the day for 5 minutes or so, secretly knowing that I'm simply there as a bluff.
Flatting, having the car honk and rev its way up to me and change my wheel, and hammering to get back onto the peloton, with a few magic water bottle passes to help.
Hearing about Moncho's attacking in the earpiece.
Hammering the last climb as hard as I could, sticking with the SuperFroix guy with the blue shirt, passing people, hanging on for dear life over the top and along the rollers to the finish. Making a pretty good group for the finish, obviously not with the front guys, but ahead of a bunch too.
3rd day
Having Oso hand me his vest to take back to the car.
Getting on the front of the peloton into the first climb with my leader in yellow as third or fourth wheel and hammering for all I was worth, marking the SuperFroix white shirt guy, nullifying his attack, and bringing back the break by the top of the hill.
Bringing water up to Oso.
Ever since I started watching the Tour, ever since I realized I couldn't be a champion, this is what I have dreamed of doing.
Jose yelling stuff into the earpiece. Sam sometimes putting in a few encouraging words.
"Gringo" becoming a common thing to hear over the radio.
Looking down at my legs, wet from water bottles and slightly sticky from gu's and other food, realizing they've never gone this fast before. That happy feeling that you've transformed into some ideal you've been training towards.
Stringing out the peloton while trading off with two teammates on the front of the peloton through a windy, wooded roller section.
After getting dropped, going into the finish with four others. Three were Communitat Valenciana guys who had hammered for their team leader to bring back time on the break. The police motorcycles let us hang onto their motos up the hills, and we'd get up to 35 mph uphill, me hanging onto another kid's seatpost or the side of the motorcycle with one hand and steering my bike with the other.
Rolling under the 1k to go ballon and the finishing stretch with the ambulance group, knowing this was my first finish of a tour.
In the end, Oso didn't win.
The race translates to Three Days of Climbing. The profiles appear flat, but there was a lot of climbing. All the stages started and ended in Santiago, the place where tons of pilgrims end their journey across northern Spain. The church itself was beautiful and so were the narrow cobble stone streets in the surrounding old part of town.
To get there, we took the two team cars, bikes and wheels secured to the top, drafting each other on the freeway at 90-100mph for 9 hours like an embassy cartel through Iraq.
1st day
Attacking, bridging, counterattacking through the rolling hills.
Finally feeling comfortable in navigating a peloton of 140 racers, 125 of which are better than me.
The flurry of bits of aluminum foil that fly through the peloton on descents as everyone starts grabbing at their food stores.
Sam saying into the earpiece: "You have try to attack until you can't pedal any more." Going off the front with 20k to go with two other guys, pouring everything I had left into it, hoping to set up a counter attack for Oso.
Getting dropped with 10k to go. Happy with how much I worked.
Eating with the team, pasta and rice and coffee and cereal and fruit for breakfast, salad and pasta and rice and chicken for dinner, all in huge quantities.
Being so tired that I had a hard time focusing on my food at dinner time. I was a wreak, totally exhausted from the day's effort. Very unsure that I would be able to complete the next day. One of the best races of my life today though. Really felt like I was racing, rather than just participating.
Checking out the rolling green countryside with farms and cows and stone fences.
My teammates telling me good job, surprised I made it through the day.
The awesome hotel rooms.
2nd day
Getting into a break early in the day for 5 minutes or so, secretly knowing that I'm simply there as a bluff.
Flatting, having the car honk and rev its way up to me and change my wheel, and hammering to get back onto the peloton, with a few magic water bottle passes to help.
Hearing about Moncho's attacking in the earpiece.
Hammering the last climb as hard as I could, sticking with the SuperFroix guy with the blue shirt, passing people, hanging on for dear life over the top and along the rollers to the finish. Making a pretty good group for the finish, obviously not with the front guys, but ahead of a bunch too.
3rd day
Having Oso hand me his vest to take back to the car.
Getting on the front of the peloton into the first climb with my leader in yellow as third or fourth wheel and hammering for all I was worth, marking the SuperFroix white shirt guy, nullifying his attack, and bringing back the break by the top of the hill.
Bringing water up to Oso.
Ever since I started watching the Tour, ever since I realized I couldn't be a champion, this is what I have dreamed of doing.
Jose yelling stuff into the earpiece. Sam sometimes putting in a few encouraging words.
"Gringo" becoming a common thing to hear over the radio.
Looking down at my legs, wet from water bottles and slightly sticky from gu's and other food, realizing they've never gone this fast before. That happy feeling that you've transformed into some ideal you've been training towards.
Stringing out the peloton while trading off with two teammates on the front of the peloton through a windy, wooded roller section.
After getting dropped, going into the finish with four others. Three were Communitat Valenciana guys who had hammered for their team leader to bring back time on the break. The police motorcycles let us hang onto their motos up the hills, and we'd get up to 35 mph uphill, me hanging onto another kid's seatpost or the side of the motorcycle with one hand and steering my bike with the other.
Rolling under the 1k to go ballon and the finishing stretch with the ambulance group, knowing this was my first finish of a tour.
In the end, Oso didn't win.
posted by Unknown at 9:56 AM
4 Comments:
Goosebumps.
racing is somewhere between sanity and insanity. You have to be able to think straight to strategize and then insane to do it!
Love all of this Chris. You are living the life...remember this forever.
chris-What a thrill to read your latest post! The God's must be crazy w/ envy of such a mortal's tour. Sam said you were magnificent. How many rolls of hotel tp did you two manage to tuck away in your duffle bags?
Chris,
I am thrilled to read your blog and hear your story. I love the tour, the French one, and I can picture you riding, passing the water bottles, mouth wide open, trying to get all the oxygen you can.
It isn't often that I see someone go for a dream as you have, and manage to live it so fully.
Keep it up! And be safe!
love,
Sue (your new neighbor)
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