Ennis Rally Review

The Ennis FFA (Future Farmers of America) held their 2nd Annual Bicycle Rally on Saturday, the 31st of October. The weather was perfect for a fall event. About 300 cyclists lined up in the morning hours and headed out on to the county roads between I-45 and I-35, and south of US287. I have to say that for such a rural ride, the roads were REALLY nice. The 100k route proceeded over gentle rolling terrain, and we traveled through several small villages, many not much more than a Post Office, a corner market, and a few homes. The area is famous for its’ cotton, and the 2nd crop of cotton was almost mature enough to pick. We passed numerous fields of the pawpaws, and we were amazed at how clean and smooth the roads were. Most serious intersections were manned by volunteers, and there were ample signs, both on posts and also on the ground. Winds were calm in the morning, but picked up slightly as the ride progressed, although we finished with a quartering tailwind.

From the gun, several Pirates of the Peloton, including Kevin Roberts, Andrew Popsack, Todd Hollenshead (in Mirage kit), and myself, went to the front and set a gentle pace. The lead pack started with about 20 overall riders, and I was impressed to see one of my own clients, Will Jaudes, right up there in the front with us. By about mile 5, however, the rolling hills began to take their toll, and the group was winnowed down to about 7 or 8 riders. By mile 11, a few more had fallen back, and by mile 17 or thereabouts, we were down to four overall riders. Hollenshead, Popsack, Jaudes and I then rode a smart pace that was tempo-ish in nature, but never hard enough to gap anyone. The pace was fast enough to enjoy, but slow enough to chat, and everyone took honest pulls throughout. We stopped once for a nature break, but that was about it. By mile 42, the wind started to pick up and it made things more difficult for two of the four, and by mile 52, Andrew and Will agreed to back off and set their own pace. Todd and I rode the rest of the way in mostly together, but once we made the final turn towards Ennis, he waved me on and I soloed in. Todd was a few minutes back, and Andrew and Will came in a few minutes after that. Kevin Roberts turned at the 38 mile option, and finished first there.

This was an absolutely wonderful course, with ample parking, great support (we saw no less than a dozen HAM radio operators rolling around the course – in fact, they were the majority of our traffic), and friendly communities. There were a few country dogs, but nothing serious enough that they actually became a menace. I urge all of you to consider this late-season event, be it for pleasant rallying or hammering. The course has open vistas, smooth roads, assertive terrain, and some beautiful reservoir and tree-line views. Changes for next year might include payouts to top finishers, but regardless, this should be placed on the schedule for most North Texans.

Several Mirage C3's after the race

I thought I’d switch directions here, step back from politics and policy, and blog a bit about today’s Cat 3 State Championships,which were held this weekend. It was a great race, and the Mirage Cycling Team delivered a good, strong finish.

Earlier in the week, I hosted a conference call for all Cat 3 Mirage racers, and we had about 7 show up for most or all of it. We talked about how each of us was feeling, how we felt our chances were on this new and extremely tough course, who the competition was, and how we might improve our chances to win, place, or show. At the starting line, there were over 85 riders, 11 of whom were Mirage racers. However, instead of acting like a bunch of independent hacks and sophomores, this race was a beautiful example of just how well a team can actually affect the outcome of a race through tactics.

The tactics and plan were simple:

1. Jordan Chaney would launch an attack first, and would try to get up the road to go for a ‘hotspot’ prize, and also to try and affect the tempo as well as try to shatter the peloton.
2. Mirage would do everything possible to put a man in every breakaway. Other Mirage riders at the front would either NOT work in a paceline attempting to bridge, or they would serve to actively block progress up to the break.
3. Every break that was reeled in should be followed by a counter-attack.
4. Our planned winner was Shawn Hodges. He had been riding well, and our impression of the hills was that he would be fastest up them. The go-to guy, for second leader was Robert Snedden, who was also riding strong, and actually was in the lead for the TXBRA cup. Third guy was myself, with Chase McKinney placing himself in the mix for a sprint finish if it came to that.
5. Workhorses were to be Shawn Daurelio, Jason Jacobs, myself, and Bill Shirer. Unknowns were David Richardson (always a strong cyclist), Mark Ashton, and a cyclist named McGhee whom the group of regulars didn’t know very well.

I’ll fill in the details shortly as to how it all went down, but we left excited about our prospects, and more devoted than ever to make sure that there was a rider from MIRAGE in the mix at the end.

Now, let me detour just a bit and describe the course as well as the weather…

The course was placed right smack dab in the middle of Ft. Hood Army Base, rumored to be the largest Army base in the world. Home of the 4th Infantry Division, as well as some other famous brigades and units, the base is the size of New England and then some. They have tank ranges, howitzer ranges, places for infantry exercises, and they just completed an urban warfare village that is eerily reminiscent of some of the villages you see in the Middle East. In order to handle all the heavy equipment, the roads are built to a pretty solid standard, and what we got to ride was perhaps the smoothest 33 miles of paved loop ever seen in Texas. There were almost no seams, only a few potholes, and the rolling, twisting terrain made for a completely challenging course. ZERO chip-seal. It was almost as if someone had dropped a white ribbon from altitude, and after fluttering down, it became this road. Furthermore, it was COMPLETELY VOID OF TRAFFIC! We could use the whole road! Awesome! Like our own 33 mile playground!

David Richardson Post Race

As good as the course itself was, the weather was unexpectedly poor. It didn’t directly rain, but a Norther had blown through the night before, and temps were hovering around 48 when we started the race. In almost every race we’ve had in Copperas Cove (on another course about 6 miles West of the base), we’ve had either Blue Norther wind from the North, or incredibly humid Gulf Wind up from the South. Saturday, however, the breeze was less than 4 knots out of the North. Everyone who had pre-ridden the course had been expecting the Southerly phenomenon, but on Saturday the light breeze kept things just cold enough to have us shivering as we clipped in to our pedals.

There were well over 80 riders who started, 11 of them Mirage. The first four miles were slightly downhill, but our nerves, combined with our inability to cope with the sudden change in temps, had the pack pretty jittery. Before Jordan could actually make his move, a group of two got off the front, and held pace for about 8 miles. They took the Prime by no more than 20 seconds on the pack, and the first real hill, which we expected to shell some of the heavier riders, failed to do so. Then, the attacks began!

For the next several miles, one Mirage rider after another made efforts to force a break. Shawn Hodges went on one. Jordan got his in.  Jason Jacobs was either in a break, or covering, and was at or near the front for the entire 3 hours. And where were the #1 and #2 captains? They were nowhere to be seen, which was exactly what we wanted – them sitting back, eating cheeseburgers and drinking milkshakes, until the moment was right, and the rest of us had either done or jobs or emptied our magazines. I even went on an attack on the back side, and it lasted for about 8 miles, through the start/finish, and well in to the first climb.

However, as soon as I was reeled in, Shawn Daurelio, our #1 rider, got antsy and launched a decisive solo attack that ended up making it almost to the turnaround at the 18 mile mark. He got away, and since I was at the front, I turned off my power and coasted, and everyone else just sat in. Shawn got about 1:30 up the road before some other teams decided to try and reel him in. However, they never got more than 40 seconds from him, and it looked like he might actually make it, when we got word from the officials that the race would be neutralized due to a tremendous crash on the course just ahead of us. We all rolled to a stop about 15′ feet before the ambulance and three other officials’ and promoters’ trucks, and were stalled for 18 minutes while they sorted out the carnage.

We learned after the race that there were an incredibly high number of crashes out on this course, which really mystifies me. The road was smooth as a baby’s butt, the hills kept the speeds variable but controlled, there was very little wind, and the course was dry. Yet there was apparently a 20-bike pileup in the P12’s, there were three wrecks in the 3’s, one or two in the 4’s, and other categories. It’s unfortunate, because this was a REALLY clean course!

But the forced rest ended up breaking up the race for the 3’s, making it a ‘43′ mile rally with one rider off the front, and then a 25 mile race going home. At the restart, Shawn was given a 40 second lead, but he was caught just before the descent to the turn to go home. Then Chase McKinney went off the front, taking two other riders with him. However, it was quickly reeled in. Then, out of nowhere, David Richardson took off, and got a good gap as we rolled through the feed zone and neared the 20k mark. Once he was reeled in, I think Shawn Daurelio went again, and when he was finally reeled in, Robert Snedden, who had been completely quiet up to that point, ROCKETED out from the left, and got a gap. It stuck, and it grew. We were on plan, and now our job was to see to it that his solo effort stayed away.

Bill Shirer showing his war wound. Les Terrill in background.

By this point in the race, I had been feeling some weird sensations and pre-cramps in my quads. Cramping for me is pretty rare, though it’s much more likely in hot and humid conditions than it is in the cool for me. In previous races at Copperas Cove, I’d suffered a heatstroke and ended up having visions on the bike. In a conversation with a woman that I spoke to later that day, she’d said that she had also suffered from cramps and heatstroke in previous races at Copperas Cove. The place is just completely full of challenges, be it weather or terrain or other teams or what have you! But I didn’t expect them on Saturday, and certainly not in my quads, but they definitely began to affect me in the last 30 minutes, and sadly, I was unable to do much more to contribute. My arrows had been shot, my quiver was empty, and for all of our efforts, except for Robert still being off the front, the pack was still together.

I got to the middle of the pack, and told Chase and Jason that if the pack caught up to Robert, it was their opportunity to go for the win. Then, we began the last turn, with just over a mile to go. Right in front of me, a San Jose rider slipped in the gravel and went down. The sound of his crash must have caused the pack to back off for a few seconds, because I had been counting Robert’s shrinking lead at no more than 12 seconds, down from 40, and as we climbed the final hill to the finish line, I counted again and it was back up to 25. But the rest of it I saw from the back. I couldn’t hang on, and while I passed Shaun Hodges and praised him for his efforts, I was also cramping so bad that I couldn’t keep up with the group.

I fell off the pace at roughly the half mile mark, and watched the fireworks from there. Unfortunately, at what turned out to be the 400m mark, I saw two riders go down on the right side of the road, and when they stopped, I saw the distinctive red and blue shorts of a Mirage rider. Rolling up, I saw that it was Jason Jacobs, the Mirage rider from Tyler who had been the consummate teammate all day long, and had still been fresh enough to challenge for the finish line. He was on his back, but when I asked if he was okay, he and the other rider both raised their hands and gave some sort of acknowledgement that at least they were conscious. I rode in as several people ran back up the course to the downed riders, told them of their condition, and then went to the gathering cyclists to find out what had happened.

CHASE MCKINNEY, who had been present and active the whole race, but especially in the second half, finished 3rd, sprinting for the line. Robert Snedden, who had been on the solo break, ALMOST made it stick, making it to the 300 meter mark before being overtaken by the pack. It was awesome. We hadn’t won, but we had certainly made every effort to have Mirage front and present in the competition and at the end.

EPILOGUE

This was one of my proudest moments as a member of the Mirage Cat 3 squad. Saturday, we rode as a TEAM. We communicated before, during, and after the race, and gave almost everyone a role to play (those who didn’t participate, or signed up too late in the week for us to know that they would be racing, weren’t able to get in on the plan). But it’s also been like this for a great chunk of the season. In January, you may remember, I complained about the lack of teamwork and communication, and I commented about it again in March. But from that point forward, I think we really gelled as a team, recognized each others’ strengths, and worked together to accomplish a team goal. Bike racing is full of individual winners, but in most cases, especially in races that are of higher caliber and intensity, the finalists get there on the shoulders of their teammates. I think Saturday, it almost worked, and I can’t wait to get the comments from all of the other teammates who participated. So “Hats Off” to Mirage – several riders and teams came up afterward and said that we had “Made” the race. I’ll take that as a compliment!

Jordan Chaney suffered from a flat tire and then a terrible wheel exchange, and DNF’d, which sucks, because he’s the ultimate good guy, and I wanted him there, involved in the race for a longer period of time.

Jason Jacobs and Bill Shirer both went down. I’m unsure of Bill’s status, but I know he was showing us some blood from the bridge of his nose after the race. Jason thought he was okay, but while he was intending to race with me on Sunday in the 35-39 age-group State Championships, he suffered from lots of road rash, a cracked helmet, a sore hand, and a poor night’s rest. Upon returning to Tyler, he was feeling nauseous and dizzy, and went in to the ER for a check up, where it was revealed that he’d suffered a minor concussion and a broken hand. Fortunately, this was the last race of the season for him, so on behalf of myself and the whole team, I want to wish him a speedy recovery, and also a heartfelt WELCOME and THANK YOU, since this was his first race as a ‘3′, and he was a solid contributor all day.

Finally, I want to let everyone who reads this know, especially my teammates, that I want YOU to comment about mistakes I made or impressions you had from your point of view in the race. This was your race as well, and I apologize in advance for any inadvertent sleights of breakaway efforts, attacks, counter-attacks, etc. Post up while your memories are still fresh, and let’s start dreaming about next year!

I am so proud to be a member of the Mirage Cat 3’s. I count you all as friends, and I look forward to many miles of intense racing in the future. And may you ALL cat up together in the near future!!! ALLEZ MIRAGE!

PS – for all the wattage junkies, I’ll post my ride file to ridewithgps.com and trainingpeaks.com, and I’ll also post my summary numbers in a comment section below this post.

http://blogs.dallasobserver.com/unfairpark/2009/10/city_hall_needs_a_bike_rack.php

Distance was well over 500 meters.

It’s been a while since I posted about a race, and that’s really because I haven’t been doing much racing. I did do a rally in August, a 100-miler that felt fantastic, even in the heat, and I probably should have written a review about the Texas State Team Time Trials, in which we placed 4th with just 3 riders, but I’ve been focused on writing a book about WKO+ software, and getting the fall program set up for the Cycling Center of Dallas. But this past weekend, myself and 3 other Mirage cat 3’s entered the Cotton Patch Classic, a race AND rally, which was also a stage race, and was ALSO an omnium (points instead of time).

I prepped for the event as best I could, including my now famous need for Sushi the night before the race. For some reason, sushi just does it for me. I’ve always had great results the next day, stayed out of cramping trouble, and generally had that sense of well-being that is so necessary to race. Race gear was the basic Soloist with Aeolus 6.5’s, three water bottles, and my trusty Quarq Saturn.

An Omnium race is a little different in terms of stage racing. Instead of racing for time, you’re racing for points based on finish. Points are given six deep, I think, maybe 8 or 10, but time doesn’t count. As a result, in the past there had been hotspot time bonuses out on the course. This year, there were none.

We rolled out on time, about 50 of us, and it took about half an hour before someone started the fireworks. Shawn Hodges and I communicated really well, and when he attempted a breakaway, I blocked for him. However, it never really went anywhere. About 40 minutes in, I attempted my first attack, and got off the front with one or two other cyclists. However, our break never got more than a minute up the road, and we were reeled in. I tried again at minute 50, and again at minute 56, only to get sucked back in to the pack after a few miles. My teammate Robert Snedden then launched an attack, but it, too, was slowly reeled in. Nothing was sticking.

Finally, at about 2 hours, I launched an attack that ended up becoming a solo effort that lasted roughly 9 miles. After that, though, I was cooked. There wasn’t much left in the tank, and the pack was going to decide the winner at the finish line. I tried to lead out my teammates at 2k, but my speed just wasn’t high enough to keep others from attempting to pass me. Then, there was a ton of confusion in the last kilometer, and we ended up rolling across the finish line sort of without even knowing that it had arrived. None of the Mirage riders got points for the Omnium, and there was the usual finish-line crash.

But I was really, really, really upset about that finish. Notsomuch about my results, or my team’s results, but about the way the finish was set up. The finish line was at the bottom of a rolling hill, on the far side of a low bridge. There were cars obstructing the shoulder, as well as the officials’ tent, and there was a cop car on the left hand side that added to the confusion. We finished at high speed, but there was no way to truly accelerate or lead out or get away, and there was a perceived ’squeeze’ at the finish line that really left a bad taste in everyone’s mouths. It was really unfortunate, because the course itself was such a great course. But if you want to tie it up with a bow, you have to have a great finish. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, and a good rider went down because of it. I had such a bad taste in my mouth after the race, that I decided to come home instead of contest the TT and Crit over the next two days.

Now, what’s the moral of this story? Hmmm. I could point fingers everywhere, but instead, I think it’s important to make something constructive out of this experience.

• First off, it was, for me, a great race. For 98% of that event, Mirage was at the front, attacking, blocking, counter attacking, and trying to keep the pace high.
• I’m really happy with my fitness right now, and that of my teammates. We rode well together, communicated, and basically played the game. I like this. It’s something I’ve dreamed of for years.
• When you have a complaint, not only do you count to ten, you count to about 1000. You write your complaint down on paper, edit it, rewrite it, and then submit it to the Race Director. For this event, as soon as I was finished, I did everything wrong, and I went after the Finish line officials, the Race Director, the local Gendarmes, and several teams that never bothered to show their noses at the front. It was the WRONG WAY to elicit change or get an audience that would listen. Later, much later, I was able to talk with two or three officials, and two Race Directors, to vent my comments. They listened, they agreed, and they vowed to change. I also posted all the GOOD THINGS about the course and race on the local state racing forum. The thing is, that you’re not going to be able to re-race the race. It’s over. It’s done. You can’t affect the outcome. Move on.
• No matter what, no matter how early or how late you get to an event, SCOUT THE FINISH LINE!!!! Had I KNOWN that there would be a downhill finish, with different road types, different cones, etc. I would have been better prepared. Had I KNOWN where the finish line was (it was definitely confusing, thanks to a million cones and cars in the way), I would have been better prepared and picked a better location to be in, or I would have known where to attack.

There was lots to like about this race, and lots to dislike. However, its’ proximity to Dallas, and its’ time in the season, make it a must-do for next year. Hopefully the promoter will take the lessons to heart, but I also need to show up better prepared. I might GPS this thing next year.

TSS for the race was 229 points, IF was 90.2%, and Pnorm for the event was 259 watts. The attacks were my strong point, though they may have been TOO strong, since I never got enough people to go with me. Lesson learned.

The Texas Tough Crit, held on Thursday, September 17th, was an awesome display of great cycling, great venue, and great entertainment all around. My wife, my dog and I rode down the Katy Trail, watched the event with several CCD clients, and walked the venue to take it all in. The rain stopped right before the race, and the event was crash-free. The helicopter provided excellent coverage on the big screens, the announcers were awesome, and a good time was had by all.

Bill Short, Labor Power

Getting Ready for some Gold Sprints!

Starting Line Up

Frankie Andreu with Ben and Richard

Floyd Landis with Brett Crosby

David Arteaga and Matt Martinez

Pirates of the Peloton at TX TOUGH

Turn 2 at TX TOUGH

My wife, friends and I will be departing from my home at 5:10pm for the brief ride down to American Airlines Center, and the TX TOUGH criterium. Feel free to join us for the event and activities.

I will also be tweeting photos and videos throughout the race. To follow me on twitter, look me up at ‘whareagle’, or click here:http://twitter.com/Whareagle

Tweets should be automatically forwarded to my facebook page, and the Cycling Center of Dallas’ blog.

Have a look at some of the cool new head units for ANT+ Sport transmitting power meters! Now your Quarq data can be recorded in 3 or 4 more ways, and options are ALWAYS good!

Garmin's new 500 for cyclists

http://gizmodo.com/5350188/garmin-edge-500-cycling-gps-tracks-speed-burned-calories-and-heart-rate

But the real winner, is THIS ONE! The “Joule” from Saris.

Joule comes in two sizes and feature lists

And this video from Robbie Ventura covers all of the features and details. The one thing missing? GPS. But honestly, I think I can live without it.

So, you’ve got the Joule, the 500, Garmin’s 705, the, uh, ‘other’ power meter, and of course, SRM and Power-tap proprietary heads. We MIGHT, just MIGHT see Ergomo head units resurrected in some form late this year or early next year, but for now, I intend to keep my 705 until I can purchase a Joule. The 2.0 looks awesome, and it has on-screen TSS, IF, and PNorm. Now, if someone could just get me PNorm for an interval or lap, I’d be ecstatic. Just one of my idiosyncracies.

I’ll have reviews of these puppies when they become available.

Sorry if they’re a little dark. They were shot on my iphone.

TT position from Castroville

Head-on

Depart from Flumet

Remember how I said that climbing the Col de Roselend was probably the hardest thing I’d ever done on a bike? Up to that point… yes. Well, the next day topped it by a HUGE margin.

There were two options to ride on this day, and since I am never one to shirk from tough efforts, I elected the more sadistical of the two. We started off in a steep, tiny village called Flumet, and then rode in the shadow of Mont Blanc over three incredible passes – a Category 2 (Cote de Aranches), and then two Category 1 climbs, the Col de Romain and finally, the Colombiere.

<iframe src=”http://ridewithgps.com/trips/1104/embed” height=”500px” width=”100%” frameborder=”0″></iframe>

The start was fairly tame. We rolled through the closed course at a moderate speed, trying like the dickens to stick together. Our guide on this day was the Frenchman, and while I enjoyed him, I think he was also somewhat overwhelmed by the size of the group and the different levels of fitness we all showed. Within about an hour, two guys had gone off the front, some of us had gone the wrong way, and we were bogging down, before even really hitting the first real climb. But we finally got to the foot of it, and I caught the two guys, along with Victor, the billy goat from Durango. Once again, he basically soared away, but I was still feeling pretty darned good, and I climbed the Cat 2 climb in just over 20 minutes, I believe.

Going for the Sprint

Then, the rain hit.

And I took a wrong turn.

And the descent was filled with steel plates on the road that were just begging to break someone’s hip.

And I did have a jacket, but not nearly enough energy drink.

And the stuff I did have, well, it soured in my stomach….

Yet we carried on.

At the top of the Cat 2 climb, and the wrong turn, I realized that another member of our group was right behind me. The woman, who was from Guam, was riding really strong, and we decided to buddy up as best as possible, for the next two hills. Victor also met us at the bottom of the Col de Romme, and together, we all started our ascent.

The Col de Romme basically goes from dead flat to STRAIGHT UP, with a couple of sharp hairpin turns, and several narrow kilometers of road, where you have a wall on your left, and a cliff on your right, as you make your way. The steepness kept me within sight of Victor for about a 1/3 of it, but it became clear once the % grade went from 10 to about 6, that he was once again going to just walk away from both of us. I continued my climb on my own pace, but was a little disheartened to see my wattage start to drop down below the 250’s. We climbed in and out of rainstorms and ever-thickening crowds, and on one turn, I noticed the ubiquitous Devil’s Pitchforks in the road. DIDI!!

Didi is an icon of the Tour de France. For decades now, he’s been attending the major Tours, dressed in a Devil’s suit, to goad the athletes, especially on the steepest cols. He travels in the sparest of campers, and the rumor is that he specifically won’t shower, so he can add to the mystique of his incredibly strong body odor. I didn’t see him (it was raining), but I yelled out, “DIDI!”, and almost immediately, from one of the campers on my right, he poked his head out of a door, dividing the kitschy hanging plastic rubies, complete with horned cap, and stuck his tongue out at me, glaring and cheering, “HE HE HE HE HE HE HE HE HE!!!!!” It pretty much made my hour.

The top of the climb was pure, complete chaos. There were people and tents and parties everywhere, and the storms had contributed to the chaos, whipping up a wind that had tossed some chairs and tables around. I went a little bit beyond it, to the start of the descent, and then got off the bike to relieve myself. My gut felt like it had mercury in it – I had probably set my concentration of EFS gel too strong for the day – and as I was standing around, deciding whether I should venture back to the crowd for some food and water, I absent-mindedly checked my rear tire pressure…

Uh oh. Soft tire. The weather had brought out all the microscopic glass and debris on the roads – stuff you couldn’t sweep away. One of those was in my tire, and I wasn’t taking it out, for obvious reasons. I had been wondering why I was not climbing so well, but I thought it was my gut, the terrain, or the weather. This was just icing on the cake.

It wasn’t flat per se, but it certainly wasn’t full, and I was NOT going to descend a 30-minute hill with a soft tire and end up in the back of a 4-wheeler somewhere. So, I unzipped my saddle bag, whipped out a Co2 cartridge, and filled up the tire, saving the cartridge for the inevitable re-inflation I’d need in an hour or so.

About that time “X” met up with me, and we decided to descend together after she got some water. I told her about my dilemma, and we agreed to ‘punch it’ up the Colombiere so we could get over the pass and down in to Le Grand Bournand, and get some real food. I also wanted to see my wife, who had done the ride that went straight from Annecy to the finish and back. The descent went okay, though it was still wet (there were no steel plates this time), but when we got to the village at the base of the Colombiere, I sort of lost all hope. “X” was with me, and I eventually told her to go on. My tire, the weather, and my flagging energy were leading to a major bonk.

But I had no choice. I gathered what I had left, and I climbed. I climbed at 170 freakin’ watts. That’s slow for me. That’s slow slow. And slower riding is actually harder than faster riding. I started cursing the crowds. I started cursing the weather. I started cursing the climb. I started cursing the trip… I started to lose my mind.

Looking back down the Colombiere

Almost exactly an hour later, after literally CRAWLING and refusing to get off my bike, I crested the Colombiere. There must have been 100,000 people on this section of the course alone. But panic had started to creep in – my gut wasn’t working with me, and no matter what I drank or ate (not much of either), I started to get gut cramps, and slow down. This put me up against something even MORE serious – a closing of the course. That meant I would be stuck at one location for about 3 or 4 hours, until the race completely passed by. When I got to the top, I could see a Gendarme rolling tape across the road, closing it off. With every last bit of energy I had, I bolted between the officer and the retaining gate, and slipped over.

Top of the Colombiere

About 100 meters past the fencing, I pulled over, got off, went to the ditch… and barfed. I hadn’t barfed on a bike in YEARS. A few Gendarmes witnessed it, but paid me no mind, and honestly, it did make me feel better. I had nothing but a miniclif bar to get the ick out of my mouth, so I chewed on it for a while, then spit it out, climbed back on the bike, and began my descent.

Now, remember – I was up against the clock. The Tour de France officials will close courses well ahead of time to try and ensure the safety of the cyclists’ and the caravans that come before and after. I was maybe 10k from the finish line, and was looking forward to a Coke to settle my stomach, and something really bad for me, like an entire pizza or sandwich or even a freakin’ pasta plate. So I started to descend, trying to blitz my way through crowds walking UP the descent, dodging the puddles or slick spots, and basically trying to keep my head up.

But two events foiled my plan.

The first was this. As I was descending, I came upon Dory Holte, another infamous icon of the Grand Tours who has popped up in recent years. You’ve probably seen him with a pair of Texas Longhorns, or elk antlers, or even Eagles’ wings, as he runs up beside the pack and let’s them know he’s their #1 fan. Most of the time his jersey is a Montana jersey, with “Leipheimer” on the back, but he’ll also show support for Lance and other Americans with a HUGE flag of the “Stars & Bars”.

Dory Holte, the "Raging Longhorn"

I had to stop and talk with Dory. I mean, it was only a minute, but you know, he’s almost as famous as Didi the Devil, but he’s different, and… He’s an American. So I called out to him, pulled over, and said hello. I got his website (raginglonghorn.com), got some photos, gave him a slap on the back and went on my way down. It took maybe a minute, but that was all the Police needed. They were shutting down the course.

I BLITZED through road checkpoint after road checkpoint, until finally, I was halted to the point of injury by a little girl in a reflective vest and Gendarmerie cap, a huge whistle, and some sort of taser on her hip. We were 5k from the end.

DAMMIT!

I looked around, saw “X”, and then, right behind me, a whole bunch of cyclists from another Jemison tour got stopped by the same girl. There was nothing we could do. We could almost see the end of the course, but we knew that there were more police further down, and since there was only one road in this steep valley, there was no way we could sneak past them. I could almost taste the food and drink, but we were stuck.

We spent the next 3 or more hours praying that it wouldn’t rain, getting to know each other better through dialogue, making friends with the 50 or so people who had been stopped there as well, and begging the parade caravans to drop food, drinks, or whatever, down to us so we could stave off human sacrifice and a “Lord of the Flies” meltdown. I will say this – French versions of “Cheetoh’s” absolutely SUCK.

Caravan of Dreams

But eventually, the helicopters showed up overhead, and I got several INSANELY cool shots of Alberto and Lance,

Venga Alberto! Venga Venga Venga!!!

Lance vs Liquigas

and we were finally cleared to descend after the “Lantern Rouge” cyclist passed through. Then, we joined the throngs of spectators (about 150,000 of them), descending, braking, bike-walking, and just desperately trying to descend on this poor little tiny town that usually held maybe 20,000 residents. I won’t go in to details, but suffice it to say that more chaos ensued, and I lost contact with the gang with whom I’d spent the afternoon, and finally, my French guide and one other rider showed up at the appointed spot, where we waited futilely for others to arrive, and finally rode back to Annecy on our own.

We arrived at the hotel starving, cold, and a little angry. I was REALLY upset. I wanted to see my wife, I wanted to eat, and I wanted to get warm, but everyone seemed nonplussed about it. We finally dined at around 9 o’clock, but my epic day had sort of been spoiled by a lot of little things, and I was only slightly mollified by an interview I gave with a reporter from the Wall Street Journal, about, guess what, power and epic climbs and energy. Marty and Jill were as great about the situation as they could be, but honestly, this was a bit overwhelming, and we later learned that the gal I’d spent the day riding with, had gotten separated from everyone, and eventually rode back to Annecy on her own or something like that.

Lance on the Colombiere

Still, I have to reflect. This was almost certainly the hardest day of the Tour de France – the infamous “Stage 17″, and I’d conquered (barely) 3 of the 5 cols, and had climbed the back side of one of the cols the previous day. This is what we’d paid for. This is what we should have been expecting. It gave me a new level of respect for the athletes who compete and even just complete the Tour de France. The energy required, day after day after day, is almost supernatural. I can understand why people would be suspicious of these athletes and the history of performance-enhancing drugs at the Tour. Just to recover from a day like this day would have been epic. I continue to be awed by the capacity of this sport to impress me.

I’ll stop here for now and will post up Part 3 later on. Business beckons, and I just learned last night that my dear Grandma has just passed away. I’ll be in South Texas for the funeral on Thursday, but I’ll try to post up again soon.

More to come. Thanks for reading.