2008 Blogs
are blurring into one big blob. I have no idea what time it is or what day it is. The only aspect that gives me a sense of time is when the next meal is or how far the jar of peanut butter is away. We are back in Limoux, back to the land of the internets. The road races are all loops, so we finish where we start. Which means the van is parked in the same spot as where it was 4 hours prior. However, I somehow manage to get lost every time after finishing and end up riding around aimlessly for 10 minutes, pathetically pointing at my jersey, asking "ou est mon equipe? I want my sandwich!!!"
So I think where I last left off in my posting is with a flat. Go figure. On the flat stage I thought I was finally going to finish with the pack. I was getting so excited. It was ridonculously hot, so I was going back to the team car to grab bottles for the team. However, once I got back there I was suddenly flat. As Karen is radioing that they're on my left, I'm frantically swerving with my flat yelling into the radio "no bottles - rear flat!!" It was a cluster of a wheel change, as Dave jumped out of the car as it was still moving. He changed it real quick, but my brakes moved and were rubbing. I threw bottles into my jersey, jumped on, and couldn't pedal. Dismount, they're still rubbing. Jump back on, get on the bumper and I'm chasing like a fat kid in dodgeball. The adrenaline got me up to the front of the caravan before I imploded. So I sat up for a bit until I mustered some more energy. Then the valliant chase began. I grabbed onto the Swift car for a bit and they flung me on up. Chase chase chase, zoom passed our car and they're all like, "whhhaaat??" All the team cars are giving me props to keep going, keep chugging little engine. And as soon as I get within reach, the road pitches up and High Road attacks. Shizam, I'm all alone for the final 20k. BUT. The team did a wicked leadout for Gina. She almost had it, but Alex pulled to the right instead of the left, so Gina caught some wind, and instead of Alex blocking Ziluite, she snuck on by for the field sprint win.
Yesterday we stayed up in the Pyrenees which was beautiful. Yesterday's stage boasted two hors category climbs. One was right from the get-go, so the field was shattered immediately. I was shattered immediately...like walking on broken glass. I can't get my bum up these things! Oh well, it turned into a pleasant day. I didn't flat, and was in the grupetto from about 25k on to the finish. Brooke brought her camera, so we all had quite a few humbling laughs. We kept picking up more and more people, and by the finish were about 40 deep, about 30 minutes back. This stage was the mother stage...with good reason because seriously it was wicked. It was beautiful. It would have been so so hard if we were racing it. But the grupetto was content with taking more of a tourist's approach. Picture a decently paved road, about the width of a Boulder bike path winding and snaking through vast vibrant green meadows with red and orange poppies throughout. Occasionally there's a mellow babbling brook. Maybe some cherry orchards. Then you cruise on cobbles through a quaint little village and the road seems to narrow a bit because there are brick and stone buildings aligning the road. Families holding baguettes cheer "allez la grupetto! allez les filles!" Then the road turns sharply to the left with a steep little 12% gradient, moving onto the infamous switchbacks. If that doesn't give you a good picture, perhaps this will help:
No, really, I am here racing my bike. Our wicked mechanic, Dave can do more than change a tire - these pictures prove that he's quite the photographer.
Mmm, today was better. I cracked the hundies baby. Not a very hilly stage today, but I still rocketed off the back when the road went up. Fortunately the road only went up for 6k before a sakreeeeming 13k descent, where I moved from almost sag up to the first chase group. Man, it was wicked. No one makes a road descend like the euros do. No one makes chocolate like the euros do either. But then the road went up again and I moved on back to another group and we cruised it on in, only 11 minutes behind this time! My back was so flipping sore, I was walking around like a 90 year old crippled mule, my eyes drifting to the back of my head like a drunken lizard - ya know?
So I think where I last left off in my posting is with a flat. Go figure. On the flat stage I thought I was finally going to finish with the pack. I was getting so excited. It was ridonculously hot, so I was going back to the team car to grab bottles for the team. However, once I got back there I was suddenly flat. As Karen is radioing that they're on my left, I'm frantically swerving with my flat yelling into the radio "no bottles - rear flat!!" It was a cluster of a wheel change, as Dave jumped out of the car as it was still moving. He changed it real quick, but my brakes moved and were rubbing. I threw bottles into my jersey, jumped on, and couldn't pedal. Dismount, they're still rubbing. Jump back on, get on the bumper and I'm chasing like a fat kid in dodgeball. The adrenaline got me up to the front of the caravan before I imploded. So I sat up for a bit until I mustered some more energy. Then the valliant chase began. I grabbed onto the Swift car for a bit and they flung me on up. Chase chase chase, zoom passed our car and they're all like, "whhhaaat??" All the team cars are giving me props to keep going, keep chugging little engine. And as soon as I get within reach, the road pitches up and High Road attacks. Shizam, I'm all alone for the final 20k. BUT. The team did a wicked leadout for Gina. She almost had it, but Alex pulled to the right instead of the left, so Gina caught some wind, and instead of Alex blocking Ziluite, she snuck on by for the field sprint win.
Yesterday we stayed up in the Pyrenees which was beautiful. Yesterday's stage boasted two hors category climbs. One was right from the get-go, so the field was shattered immediately. I was shattered immediately...like walking on broken glass. I can't get my bum up these things! Oh well, it turned into a pleasant day. I didn't flat, and was in the grupetto from about 25k on to the finish. Brooke brought her camera, so we all had quite a few humbling laughs. We kept picking up more and more people, and by the finish were about 40 deep, about 30 minutes back. This stage was the mother stage...with good reason because seriously it was wicked. It was beautiful. It would have been so so hard if we were racing it. But the grupetto was content with taking more of a tourist's approach. Picture a decently paved road, about the width of a Boulder bike path winding and snaking through vast vibrant green meadows with red and orange poppies throughout. Occasionally there's a mellow babbling brook. Maybe some cherry orchards. Then you cruise on cobbles through a quaint little village and the road seems to narrow a bit because there are brick and stone buildings aligning the road. Families holding baguettes cheer "allez la grupetto! allez les filles!" Then the road turns sharply to the left with a steep little 12% gradient, moving onto the infamous switchbacks. If that doesn't give you a good picture, perhaps this will help:
No, really, I am here racing my bike. Our wicked mechanic, Dave can do more than change a tire - these pictures prove that he's quite the photographer.Mmm, today was better. I cracked the hundies baby. Not a very hilly stage today, but I still rocketed off the back when the road went up. Fortunately the road only went up for 6k before a sakreeeeming 13k descent, where I moved from almost sag up to the first chase group. Man, it was wicked. No one makes a road descend like the euros do. No one makes chocolate like the euros do either. But then the road went up again and I moved on back to another group and we cruised it on in, only 11 minutes behind this time! My back was so flipping sore, I was walking around like a 90 year old crippled mule, my eyes drifting to the back of my head like a drunken lizard - ya know?