THE Vuelta: Stage 1 TTT

One stage down, 20 to go!

Today was a very relaxed start for us, but unfortunately I didn’t get a good night’s sleep. I was so excited about today’s race that I couldn’t shut my brain off, instead laying there for 2 hours before falling asleep after midnight. But my internal clock didn’t get the message and I awoke at 7:30, right on schedule.

We got 3 laps of practice in on the course during the day: 1 lap easy to learn the course a bit, then an 80% TTT effort, followed by an easier TTT effort just to get one more lap under our belts.

The course was technical, that’s for sure. Some 20+turns/roundabouts in 12.5km are tough anyways, but with 9 guys, technique becomes even more crucial. Just to make things even more complicated, the road surface was polished to a nice shine from years of oil and rubber without rain.

Spectators really love to watch 9 guys ride their trainers all at once, it seems. We got through our prescribed warmup routine, complete with ice vests and the slush drink mix while turning down for what, I don’t know. Then we were off to the start house, where 9 lovely ladies in high heels struggled to hold 9 big bike racers (well, 8, but I don’t want to leave Johannes out) upright. In fact, Koen’s holder nearly fell over and he had to put a foot down just before our start.

I was 2^nd in line, behind John and ahead of Warren. I also had the privilege of being the team’s cameraman for the day, with Shimano’s sweet new camera under my butt.

My first pull was over 400m of cobbles, and I was doing my best to go at 80%. I was so excited for the race that I knew I would go too hard, and blowing the whole team up in the first 3 minutes would not be good. So I was holding back, yet every time I looked down I saw 550w. It wouldn’t always feel so nice, but I felt great then!

During our 80% recon effort, I thought, “yeah, we can go 20% faster through the turns,” but for every single turn during the actual race, I thought, “aaagggghhh, we’re going SO MUCH FASTER!” On the whole, we had a very solid run, but there were definitely a handful of small mistakes that cost us some time (and then there was that time that the camera moto ran into Warren)—but that is the case for every team. On that course, it wasn’t the team that had the most horsepower that won, but the team with the best TEAM effort. So kudos to Movistar, but we’re still quite pleased with our 6^th-place effort!

Over our 14:30 effort, I averaged 404w with a normalized power of 432. Heart rate: quite high.

Then it was back to the hotel for massages and dinner and typing this up quickly, and it’s already past 11pm. Hopefully I can fall asleep now, but we’ll see…

Vuelta a Espana: Here we go!

As I type this, I find myself at another bike race. Only, it’s not your run-of-the-mill bike race. Between the travel days, preparation days, race days, and rest days, this trip will add up to a whopping 27 days. It would seem the race is aptly called a Grand Tour.

We usually arrive at a race on the day before the start, but there’s ample reason to arrive a bit earlier for a race like this. One day devoted to travel, followed by a day to spin the legs out and relax. Once we’re settled in, the day before the race (today) is to get the legs really opened up with some intensity. Or, as circumstances require, with team time trial practice.  The rest of our schedule is filled with meals, anti-doping tests, fat measurements, team meetings, and relaxation.

Ah, yes, relaxation. That’s a vital key to surviving a 3-week race (or so I’m told). While it may only be one or two flights of stairs, taking the elevator instead multiple times a day adds up to a lot of stairs saved weeks later. Such a “marginal gains” attitude applies to every aspect of life for the next few weeks. I’ve prepared for this and am well-stocked in all areas of relaxation. I’ve got books, podcasts, music, movies, and TV to keep me occupied and off my feet. But put a piano in front of me and all that is forgotten!

Considering my previous two races were also in Spain, my Spanish is about to make a drastic resurgence. After just a few hours of watching Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother re-runs in Spanish (since I remember most of the English lines), I’ve already recovered a large chunk of vocabulary. The main issue is the little bit of Italian I know getting in the way.

As far as the race goes, I have to focus on only one day at a time. I found myself worrying about the potential for bad weather once we get to the late stages in northern Spain. Trying to take on the whole race at once is certainly a bad idea!

I’ve always wondered what the race book must be like for a Grand Tour, and I finally know. It’s big. Like, really big. 330 pages!

I’ll not be accused of lacking ambition, so my goal is to post daily. Not full-length posts, but I hope to take 20 minutes a day for some typing. I know I’ll have the time, but my motivation may drop off drastically somewhere in the teen stages. Time will tell!

Vuelta a Burgos

After the Classica San Sebastian, I was back in Lucca for most of a week—enough time to get in a handful of good rides with some intensity to continue my build back to race condition. Then I was on my way back to Spain, where I would hopefully be spending most of the next month.

The race was the Vuelta a Burgos, a 5-stage affair that would be a good training race for me. Daan and Thomas were already on good form, so we would be focusing on them for results in the road stages. My focus would be to race as hard as I could as a domestique in the road stages, then go for a result myself in the final time trial.

The race only had a dozen teams—not even 100 racers in total, so a really small field. We expected a fairly relaxed race (until the finale, of course), but that most certainly was not the case.

On Stage 1, the break got away immediately and Movistar took control right away as Quintana was expected to win again and they wanted to keep him safe for the Vuelta. It was a windy day, though, and the threat of crosswind chaos kept everyone a little bit on edge. My personal challenge was to make sure that Daan and Thomas never touched the wind the whole stage, and I think I was pretty successful there.  I spent a lot of the stage sitting out in the wind near the front of the field, keeping the team out of the scrum.

It wasn’t until we neared the finish laps in town that we finally got a good crosswind that stung my legs a bit. Then we hit the finishing climb the first time and I was quickly out the back as I couldn’t sprint up the hill like everyone else just yet. I fought, though, and ended up in a chase group. In my absence, Lawson was their guardian. With 10k to go before the finish, I was hopeful that I could get back to the lead group and help Daan and Thomas one last time. We regained the front group with 4k to go, so I paused a moment to recover. I took the hot route around the outside of a fast right-hander, with 1k to go before the crucial bottleneck at the base of the climb. With momentum at the exit, I started screaming at Thomas as I was coming by, and he and Daan quickly jumped on. I motored right past the train at the front, knowing that I just needed to hold them there until the bottleneck. It worked perfectly, and I slid out of the way just before the turn to give them a clean line, and left them to it. Both had a great ride, finishing 3^rd and 7^th on the stage. 

Unfortunately we lost Loh to a bizarre crash late in the stage. He fractured his sternum (?!) and still managed to finish the stage.

The theme of the following stages: conflict.

We had 3^rd place on GC. From the time that the break was established at km20, we were set up as a team behind Movistar. Rightfully, Katusha could have been there but they showed no interest. We rode there undisturbed for 30km. Then, randomly, 2 lower level teams with no results warranting such behavior, came up to push us off the wheel and promptly freaked out when we pushed back.

For 3 days we endured much finger-wagging, fervent gesturing, and childish temper tantrums as we spent most of the stages in constant conflict with these teams. They really did not like us! I was beginning to call Lawson and Tom Professor Chaos and General Disorder, as they proved quite adept at antagonizing the others. It was unnecessary stress, but also time-killing entertainment:

-Lawson gently winning the fight over a wheel, so the other guy swapped positions with his bigger teammate to fight for him. Are we in the WWF now, tagging in teammates?

-A smaller rider in a super-tuck at the incredible speed of 40kph thinking that he could push Tom off the wheel. He was unsuccessful and quite upset. There was much shouting.

-The argument that “We can share this space! Why won’t you share?” being used against us. We tried it later, and it turns out that this sharing is not bi-directional.

-Lawson attempting to “share the space”…one of the opposing teammates rode up the right side of the field, past Movistar, across to the other side of the road, then dropped back so that he could pinch Lawson off from the other side. It was awesome.

-Lawson finding himself completely surrounded, in the bubble of the other team.

-Lawson’s peace offering of a half-finished Coke to said team being rejected outright.

In the sprints, even with our smaller squad of 6, we did well. Steven and Thomas took 2^nd and 3^rd on the second stage. We weren’t quite able to get past the IAM train before a crucial turn, but we came close to the win. I managed to coast in for 12^th place after finishing my leadout.

On the Queen stage, I again spent a good deal of energy keeping Daan out of the wind and at the front, then let him go when the field exploded. He had a good ride to land in 10^th place on GC.

On stage 4, we were in for a real bike race. Lawson and I were both trying hard for the break and burned some matches in the process. I was away for a while in a group, and Lawson countered when we were caught, but it was the next one that got clear. It looked like we were in for another boring ride to the finish, but then Astana took over on the next climb and proceeded to toss a bomb into the field. Boom!

They stayed on the gas over the final climb, too, and by the time we were over the top, the field size was halved. I was suffering to make the front group, but I managed it. It was supposed to hurt anyways, right?

It was looking like a reduced field sprint, so as the kilometers passed by we organized our leadout. A series of turns separated me and Thomas from Daan and Lawson, and with 1.5km to go we were still about 10 riders back. I panicked and burned my match too early to get Thomas to the front, forcing him to fight on his own for the last K. In hindsight, I wish I had waited another 250-300m before making my move. A little patience would have gone a long way in that finish, but as it was, Thomas finished 6^th. Live and learn, I guess.

Finally, the TT! The field was not very heavy with TT specialists, so Lawson and I stood a really good chance of taking the stage. I knew it was a perfect opportunity. I managed two practice laps of the course, but wasn’t able to really practice two of the more technical turns because the course wasn’t closed to traffic at the time.

The course was rolling upwards for the first half, and mostly false-flat downhill to the finish, so I pushed the pace on the way out, knowing that that’s where the most time would be made up. Since I wasn’t working with my best legs, I knew that technically I had to have a perfect race. I stayed in the aero bars through all 6 big roundabouts on course, not willing to waste a single second on needless drag.

I had been steadily gaining on my minute-man the whole race, but as we neared the finish I was trying desperately to catch him before the last 2 turns. The last 150m of the course were very narrow and twisty and it would be impossible to make a pass there. I almost made it, too, but not quite. Instead, I rolled up on him 5kph faster and had to scrub speed because we couldn’t take the turns two-wide. By my estimation, I lost between 1 and 2 seconds there. I would miss the stage win by 3 seconds, finishing in a season-best 4th.

For once, my effort was actually televised (there was nobody important on the course at the same time) and I can go back and critique my effort. I got everything out of my legs, but I think I could cut out those 3 seconds with some small changes to my pacing and better technique with my head. I spent the whole race looking up or looking down, never spending any time in my intermediate head position (the one where I can see about 30m ahead). I also could have taken those two technical turns a tiny bit faster, if I’d been able to take them hot in practice.

All that put together, I’d have a stage win. But that’s how it goes…woulda, coulda, shoulda. I’ll just have to win one of the Vuelta TT’s, I guess.

To cap off a solid week, Daan had a really good ride to jump up to 8^th in GC. In all, it was a pretty successful week for us!

You can find the videos of the stages here, but here's the video of the TT. I first appear around 3 minutes in, #44.

                                                                                                                                            

Dichotomy of Emotions

I’m going to race the Vuelta! And my Dad’s cancer has returned. Unsure whether to congratulate or console me? The same thoughts are racing laps in my own head.

Today, the team announced our Vuelta a Espana roster, and I’m on it! Ever since it was mentioned as a distant possibility last fall, I have been hard at work and full of hope. With my directors’ and coach’s carefully constructed racing and training schedule, I’ve been pushed past my limits multiple times this year. Just before the fatigue became too much, I was given rest. As a result, I’ve experienced what I feel to be a huge improvement already this year in my ability to handle longer races at a higher caliber.

Earlier this year, I had my doubts about my ability to handle a 3-week race. I was absolutely ruined by the end of Catalunya, my first WorldTour race, and it was only 8 days. The thought of 2 more weeks was staggering. But then I recovered and got stronger throughout a tough block of California, Belgium, and Dauphine, and my chances started looking better.

And what do you know, I’m going to the Vuelta! The thought of venturing so far into the unknown is daunting, but I’m excited and ready to suffer. I’m so grateful for my team’s willingness to give me so many opportunities for development in just my first year at this level. Just last year I was racing local events around the US, and now I’m going to start a Grand-freaking-Tour! 4 years ago, when I went all-in as a bike racer, I could not have imagined reaching this point so soon. Talk about riding on cloud 9….

Now, then, about the title of this blog post: all is not well in my world. Just a short month after my realization that I was taking my dad’s health for granted, we learned that it’s back.

This news came at the same time I got the nod to race one my sport’s pinnacle events.

That’s not a rollercoaster of emotions, that’s a brain-boggling explosion.

My family has been here before—twice, in fact—and we know the battle that lies ahead. This time around, though, the best course of treatment is uncertain. We are relying heavily on faith, family, and friends to make sense of it all and move forward. The most difficult part for me is the literal ocean between us at the moment, as I would really just love to give him a hug.

I’ve kept the news mostly quiet until now, as I needed time to process it all first. Cancer and Vuelta in the same thought cycle is like asking a simple handheld calculator to solve complex differential equations: it’s just going to sit there and think for a very long time before it can make sense of it all (sorry for the engineer’s metaphor). I’ve finally come out on the other side of it.

One thing I can say: the cancer’s return has reminded me of why I’m here in the first place and motivated me that much more to be the best bike racer I can possibly be. Now I get to take this motivation to the biggest stage. Bring on the Vuelta!

Rebooting

After nearly 3 weeks of relaxing, it was time to get back to work. I’d taken a total of 10 days completely off the bike, and had 9 days of very easy riding. Then I had a week to ease back into training before I headed off to training camp. That was partly why I stayed in Europe during my break. I wanted to save my airline miles for another trip to Mexico this fall, but staying over here meant that I could go to the training camp and have company. It would be a big block of training either way, but at this point in the season my motivation to do intervals by myself is always lacking. A training camp would be just the boost I needed.

As my rest period had been a week longer than I’ve taken in the past, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I really started riding again. After one 3 hour ride I was starting to reach for the panic button. It had been a hot day and my legs were destroyed that evening, nearly cramping up. Thankfully they started to come around with a few more rides.

By that time, I was headed to the French Alps for three weeks. Our camp was 7 riders and a handful of staff—trainer, soigneur, and mechanic. We’d be staying in an apartment at a ski resort, in charge of our own meals. The apartment was at 2100m (7000’), so we definitely noticed the altitude for the first week there. It was the first altitude camp for some of the guys, but I’ve gone back and forth from altitude so many times over the last few years that it’s mundane for me now.

We eased into training for the first week, and then things really got cranked up. We were near several big climbs of 1200m elevation gain, but sometimes we would do time trial or team time trial work down in the valley. It was my first time to do TTT work with 7 riders…every additional rider makes the technical aspect of the TTT that much more important. The more familiar I get with the event, the more respect I have for it and those who can do it well. To have that many guys riding that close to each other at 55kph, each of them more than a half-second from their brakes…not for the faint of heart.

Once I acclimated to the altitude, my endurance quickly returned. At the end of one block, I did a 6.5hr ride with three big climbs, climbing easy at 280w all day to hit my second 5000kJ day of the year. In the final week, we started getting some intensity again to make the transition back to racing a bit easier. Part of this transition was to try out the team’s new slush puppie (ICEE for my American readers) protocol for hot time trials. In combination with the ice vest, the slush in our stomach can keep us cooler for longer and improve our performance. The test was to see if our stomachs got along with ice during a hard effort—best not to try for the first time in a race!

Snack time!

We suffered through erratic weather just as our teammates racing Le Tour did. Some days were incredibly beautiful, and others were downright gross with rain. We lucked out in that we were only rained on while training a couple of times—most of the time the roads were just wet from overnight rains. We got a lot of practice descending in the wet, and thankfully we were on race tires!

Every ride started off with a 22km descent (and every ride ended with a 22km climb…), so by the end of camp we had it completely memorized and were consistently reaching the bottom in the dry at 23 minutes. Over the three weeks, we did the descent in the wet and dry on both road AND TT bikes. I’m certainly a bit more familiar with descending on my Trinity now!

Off the bikes, we enjoyed ourselves pretty well. The hotel had a sauna and swimming pool that we’d visit on recovery days, as well as a small gym that we’d use for core strengthening. We’d finish our ride every day in time to see the last hour of the tour stage—all of us screaming as Marcel surged past Kristoff on the Champs Elysees.

We visited the glacier atop the mountain on a rest day...

...and the euros seized the opportunity to do some sunbathing

We rotated cooking duties in pairs each night. Cooking for 10-12 was difficult at times, but we managed well and every meal was very good. We enjoyed a great BBQ one night with a fantastic view and ate out a few times, including our Raclette meal on the last night. That meal was a shock—people say Americans have to have cheese on everything….

a BBQ with a view

By the time camp was wrapped up, we’d covered 1800km in nearly 70 hours of riding with 36000m of elevation gain. Basically, we climbing from sea level to the top of Mount Everest 4 times. A lot of climbing!

And just like that, camp was over and we were off to our next races.

For me that would be the Classica San Sebastian, a race that I really knew nothing about beforehand. It would be a tough re-introduction to racing at the very least, as the race was WorldTour, and 220km with 6 climbs. I was there in a support role and to get some racing back in my legs.

The whole day, my legs never felt great. I just felt like I was missing that top 5-10% that comes through racing, and the data confirms it. I was on the survival plan in the hopes that I could contribute to our protected riders on the later climbs, but didn’t last long enough. On the fourth climb of the day I slipped off immediately when the road turned up. I was in the cars for a while but was a couple minutes behind over the top. Deciding to get the most out of the race, I shifted into training mode.

As it turned out, the Caja Rural rider who had been off the front all day collecting KOM points was off the back, and I linked up with 4 of them riding a TTT to get him to the finish inside the time cut. So actually, I did get to ride the whole race hard! Some guys in the grupetto complained, but hey, you can drop off anytime you want. There’s no stage 2, may as well get everything out of it that you can! On the flat sections, I’d sit just a little bit further into the wind. Then we reached the final climb, which couldn’t be taken easily anyways. A kilometer of the climb was at 20%, which really hurts after 210km! Including the neutral section, my day ended at 4950kJ…so close! I’m not very pleased at the state of my top end right now, but I trust that it will bounce back just as my endurance did. No need to panic yet! Even though I wasn’t really able to participate in the race, it was an awesome day on the bike.

Now I have another week of training back in Lucca before the Vuelta a Burgos, with my eyes firmly locked on selection for THE Vuelta. Let’s do this!

Still NED

We’ve all heard it before: the only constant in life is change. Our human nature, though, instinctively craves homeostasis. As such, we quickly adapt to changes so that, if only for a little while, we have restored balance. Over time, so much can change that we lose perspective of where we started, and it can be good to zoom out and look at the big picture to see how far we’ve come and thus appreciate things properly.

A few weeks ago I received a text message from my mom. Rather than the content of the message, it was my reaction to it—or lack thereof—that has caused me to slow down and take a look at the bigger picture.

Name any significant historical event that happened during a person’s lifetime and they can tell you were they were and what they were doing at the time. When the towers fell, when Bin Laden was captured, and so on.

Just over 4 years ago, I had just such an experience. My final summer in college was a trial period of life as a bike racer. In those few months, I drove across the country more than half a dozen times, trying to hit all the big races and accumulate some results in the hopes of securing a contract after graduation.

On this particular trip, I was in Chicago for the Tour of Elk Grove. Just a year later I would finish on the podium in the Pro field, but in 2010 I was racing the Cat 1-2s. I was staying in the basement of a fellow racer’s relatives when I got the call from my dad. At the conclusion of my last trip, I learned that the cause of his persistent cough was a tumor in his lung. While I was in Chicago, they confirmed that the tumor was cancerous, despite my dad’s lifetime avoidance of cigarettes.

So, yeah, I certainly remember where I was when my snowglobe life got a good shaking.

4 years later—4 years in which it seemed things were changing so quickly that there was never a chance to catch our breath, 4 years with some tremendous highs and devastating lows.

I was in my apartment in Lucca, Italy enjoying my summer break. 4 years ago I was trying to scrape by as an amateur, and now I’m living in Lucca, my last race having been one of the biggest that the sport has to offer, racing for one of the most successful teams at the highest level of the sport. I heard my phone buzz on my nightstand and walked in to check the message.

From my mom: “Still NED.”

I put the phone down and went back to my keyboard to resume practicing. Then it hit me. That message, “Still No Evidence of Disease,” has become routine, and I’ve started to take it for granted. My mom was telling me that my dad, who has twice defeated stage IV lung cancer—a disease with a devastating life expectancy beyond 5 years—was still cancer free.

For all the change that has happened over the recent years, I would have never guessed that such a message could become routine. But it has! And for that, I’m overcome with thankfulness. Since then, I’ve taken time each day to thank God for these incredible blessings in my life. Change will someday rear its head once more, but I don’t need to spend my time worrying about tomorrow, for tomorrow will care for itself. In the meantime, I’ll spend a little more time appreciating each mundane “Still NED” message.

Il Palio: the biggest sporting event you've never heard of

After the TTT World Championships last fall, I ended up in Siena for a couple of days. While there, I learned about Il Palio, the horse race that make this little medieval city famous. Just looking at pictures of the event, I quickly added it to my bucket list: attend Il Palio.

A couple of months ago, I realized that Il Palio would fall smack in the middle of my summer break, and I would be in Italy at the time. Siena is just a few hours on a train from Lucca....

I did a fair bit of reading up on the event beforehand to gain a semblance of understanding, but still only had a faint grasp. I got to Siena on day 3 of the 4-day Palio.

Il Palio, while still a horse race, is almost nothing like the American versions with which we're familiar. It's not an occasion for betting and money-making, and so much depends on chance.

Here's a quick rundown:

Siena is made up of 17 districts, called Contradas. Only 10 Contradas get to participate in Il Palio, which is held twice per year--once in July and once in August. The 7 Contradas that weren't in the last Palio get automatic entry, and the remaining 3 are drawn at random. So 3 lucky Contradas get two shots at it each year.

After determining which Contradas get to race, they are randomly assigned their horse and their jockey separately. The jockeys don't even know what horse they'll be on! The first 3 days of Il Palio consist of several trial races where the horses and jockeys are getting to know each other, their competition, and the course. Oh, and did I mention the race is bareback?

The course is a D-shaped loop in the Piazza del Campo, which is basically a half-bowl, so there is significant elevation change. They cover the bricks with a thick layer of clay for the race and line the course with fencing. The front of the shops around the Piazza are covered by bleachers. You can buy tickets for the bleachers, balcony seats, and apartment windows for a great view of everything, but they don't come cheap. Prices start at 200E. Or you can be a sardine and pack into the middle of the piazza.

28,000 spectators cram into the middle of the Piazza with another 33,000 in the bleachers, balconies, and windows.

After arriving hours beforehand to claim a good viewing spot in the Piazza (inside of the last turn, with a great view of the most exciting turn across the Piazza), the parade began. Lasting 2.5 hours, it's quite the spectacle. Not a hokey tourist attraction like medieval times, this is a legitimate medieval parade of all the Contradas and their horses. This event has been going on since the 17th century. There is a lot of pageantry involved.

After the parade is done, the racers enter the Piazza and chance once again comes into play. There are no starting gates, just a rope across the course. The race starts on a curve, so everyone wants the inside line. Starting positions are called out at random. So that everyone can hear, the 60000 spectators shush each other into an impressive silence. Also at play are the rivalries between the various Contradas. In the video, you can hear the excitement and conflict that arise when the first few start positions are called out. Apparently two rivals would be starting next to each other.

There is no countdown to the start. No, they're waiting for all the horses to be calm (and facing the right direction). They're all crammed against each other on the starting rope, full of excitement and tension. The jockeys and horses get into it a few times and all are ordered to go walk it off before being called back to the line in the same order, hopefully a little calmer. Over the span of 15 minutes, they did this 4 times before the race finally started.

The race is 3 laps of the Piazza and is over in a minute. My camera work isn't so great, but I wasn't looking at the camera. I was watching the race! As soon as the race was over, spectators jump the barriers in celebration. It's at this time that it's best to stay out of the way. Sometimes fights break out between Contradas. I'm telling you, this is a really serious event for Siena! The party for the winning Contrada goes on through the night.

Il Palio is an incredible event, and now I can say I've been there!