Monday, September 29, 2003
Quick Ultramax Report
1:41 swim. No faster, no slower, but I felt better in the water and felt great coming out of the water.
7:35 or so on the bike (15.0 mph average on my computer). Also, bike was something like 114.8 miles, with 75% headwinds and still pretty damned hilly, but felt great and rode controlled (via HR numbers, not hammering) the entire way. Very happy with the bike.
Got to about mile 16 of the run and almost blacked out and got taken back to the finish line and to medical where I got two IVs and other assorted meds. My blood sugar was way whacked. The doctor there suggested I go see my doc, which I will.
The volunteers are the best I've ever seen in any race. Even beating the Kiwis, which for me, you know that takes a lot. At least I made it 16 miles farther than last year. And, the UM race director came to find me in the medical tent Saturday night and gave me a hug and yesterday before the awards banquet, gave me a little present. I thanked him for the 115 mile bike ride. Full report later.
Day after pictures at: http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=avr6ezf.4zsu8dcn&x=1&y=-nq9dcy
7:35 or so on the bike (15.0 mph average on my computer). Also, bike was something like 114.8 miles, with 75% headwinds and still pretty damned hilly, but felt great and rode controlled (via HR numbers, not hammering) the entire way. Very happy with the bike.
Got to about mile 16 of the run and almost blacked out and got taken back to the finish line and to medical where I got two IVs and other assorted meds. My blood sugar was way whacked. The doctor there suggested I go see my doc, which I will.
The volunteers are the best I've ever seen in any race. Even beating the Kiwis, which for me, you know that takes a lot. At least I made it 16 miles farther than last year. And, the UM race director came to find me in the medical tent Saturday night and gave me a hug and yesterday before the awards banquet, gave me a little present. I thanked him for the 115 mile bike ride. Full report later.
Day after pictures at: http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=avr6ezf.4zsu8dcn&x=1&y=-nq9dcy
Sunday, September 14, 2003
A Bike Ride and A Bike Race
Saturday I had a 3.5 to 4.5 hour ride on my schedule. Everyone was either racing or riding Paradise and I was strongly told that I should do a more race specific ride, so I headed out to Contra Costa and rode solo. I was a little ticked about having to do so, but now, I'm very glad I did. (Thanks Pieter.) Rode 3:45 and about 55 miles in 97F weather with major winds blowing over the Altamont Pass. (I guess there is a good reason they put those power windmills there.) Got passed by Chris Lieto (at least I think it was him). Got blown around a lot on the bike, so much so in one area that I was too leery to stay down in the aero bars. Easily went 20 mph on the flats without pedaling and a tailwind. A little tougher when I had to come back the other way into the wind. Rode steady, but not hard and was very pleasantly surprised when I saw that I averaged 1 mph faster on Saturday for this ride than I'd done earlier this summer. Followed it up with a short transition run. Lost close to 5 kg between start and finish of ride so I spent the rest of Saturday rehydrating and refueling, with a stop at the LBS's party last night.
Today, I got up and did an easy 30 minute run, taking in part of the women's race of the T-Mobile Grand Prix. Came home and showered and ate, then walked a big part of the course and watched the men's race. Nice day and got LOTS of walking in. Part of the race was only a block and a half from my house (the first 3-4 pictures). Gotta love that!! Congratulations to Chris Horner and Saturn (1-2) and Eki and the Posties (3-4). Lance rode, but dropped out. Here are my pics:
http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=avr6ezf.33c77pav&x=0&y=t4bc4y
Today, I got up and did an easy 30 minute run, taking in part of the women's race of the T-Mobile Grand Prix. Came home and showered and ate, then walked a big part of the course and watched the men's race. Nice day and got LOTS of walking in. Part of the race was only a block and a half from my house (the first 3-4 pictures). Gotta love that!! Congratulations to Chris Horner and Saturn (1-2) and Eki and the Posties (3-4). Lance rode, but dropped out. Here are my pics:
http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=avr6ezf.33c77pav&x=0&y=t4bc4y
Saturday, September 13, 2003
M-Dot is Bigger Than Tri Itself....NOT!
Someone said that the M-dot was bigger than triathlon itself and I truly hope that that is not the perception of the majority of triathletes. Because triathlon is oh so much more than one race (or series of races). Sure, Ironman (both the trademarked one and the ironman distance itself) are important pieces of my triathlon experience, but there are many other pieces.
Triathlon is three co-workers getting together to do one of these triathlon things as a team because none of us could have done a sprint tri solo. That was the Rinconada Triathlon on the Stanford University campus in 1987. I was the swimmer because no one else could swim a half mile without drowning. I was a swimmer in high school and this would be no problem, right? Ha! Open water was a little different than the pool. And 56 degree, dark, murky water where someone had drowned the prior week was very different than the pool. Wetsuits? Nobody had a wetsuit. But, our team finished and we were hooked.
Triathlon is also me, standing at the finish line of the 2001 Barb’s Race, getting all verklempt when my friend Stephnee crossed the finish line of her first half Ironman. She’d done it and surprised herself by meeting and even surpassing her goal. It’s also being at the finish line in New Zealand when Steph finished her first Ironman. That was also the day when our friends Brent, Alyssa, Janet, Bernie, Andy and Clint became Ironmen.
It’s also watching the very first Tri for Fun put on by On Your Mark. My buddy Stu, the guy who got us into this triathlon thing in the first place, swam the course to set the buoys and there were only about 30 people racing. Fifteen years or so later, I’m standing on the same beach and hearing Mark announce to the crowd that for the first time in the history of the series, the field had hit 1,000 people and was 51% women. That same day, I was about half a mile from the finish, trying to finish strong, when a girl caught me and said she’d been chasing me for a while. She also said she was so excited because she was going to do it....finish her first triathlon! I told her to go on ahead, make sure her number showed for the photographer and to SMILE when she crossed the finish line. How happy I was for her! Earlier that morning, I’d driven out with club mate Tina who was battling first timers nerves and had a million questions. She also finished strongly and is now hooked.
It’s also knowing that my friend Victor raced the best he could, but was only the 4th best American in 2000. People told him, “Too bad you missed the Olympic team.” Victor disagrees. He did his best on the day and that’s all you can ask. Really, that’s all you can ask at any time in anything, to do your best. I try to keep his 3Ps in mind at all time--Passion, Patience, Persistence. (And, Vic still got to go to Sydney as first alternate.)
Then there was the women’s only Olympic distance race we did the second year we were racing. We swapped out our cyclist Paul for his fiancee’ (now wife) Toni, and we WON! We thereafter dumped Paul and had a new team. Not to worry, we found Paul a new swimmer and runner. For two years we finished pretty much in the top three of all the Northern California races we did. We then went to the Bud Light San Diego race and got our butts kicked. But, it was a great road trip and my first ocean swim.
It’s helping out with a women’s tri club and seeing women who are “late onset” athletes blossom and gain all kinds of self confidence. It’s going out to lunch and answering question after question and seeing that spark in their eye of “just maybe I can do this.” It’s hearing all about their races and hearing the pride in their voices when they talk about training and racing.
It’s my mother, who upon hearing I’d signed up for Ironman California 2000, say, “You ~know~ you’re not a runner.” After I DNFed that race and left the medical tent, she said, “I hope this isn’t going to put you off trying it again.” She and dad have now been to four ironman races and have become ironman spectator experts. They will be at number five in September.
It’s seeing my friends Mike, AJ, Jane, Robert, Steve and Lyza waiting for me at the finish of IM NZ, just like they said they would be. And the Taupo resident who, after seeing me out on the run, jumped in his car, drove down to the finish and stuck around until I came out of the mandatory medical, just to shake my hand and say congratulations. And the couple the next day who stopped at our table in a restaurant to say they’d seen me finish and congratulate me.
But perhaps, the most important piece of my triathlon experience are the triathletes themselves. There is a wonderful community of triathletes all over the world. Like-minded, fun, willing to help out or give advice, or even give you the shirt off their back. It’s a triathlete in one part of the United States packing up and shipping off his extra bike when he heard a fellow triathlete in another part of the country had his bike stolen and an important race coming up. It’s traveling for work and being able to find someone to swim, bike, run or just drink a beer with any place I go. It’s my local club, a great mix of young and old, fast and slow, pure beginners and long time triathletes, short distance racers and ironmen, all of whom cheer and support everyone, no matter your goals or aspirations. It’s a group of strangers, all signed up for the same race in 2000 and who met on a yellow web page, who are now very close friends. We’ve been through at least three marriages, a couple of divorces, engagements, breakups, birth of the next generation of triathletes and unfortunately, death. But all of this has been shared among people who are now friends, and who are like family. Yes, triathlon and the Ironman may have brought us all together, but there is something more that keeps us friends.
So, don’t say that M-dot is bigger than triathlon itself. Sure, it’s an important part, but at least in my world, only a very small part.
Triathlon is three co-workers getting together to do one of these triathlon things as a team because none of us could have done a sprint tri solo. That was the Rinconada Triathlon on the Stanford University campus in 1987. I was the swimmer because no one else could swim a half mile without drowning. I was a swimmer in high school and this would be no problem, right? Ha! Open water was a little different than the pool. And 56 degree, dark, murky water where someone had drowned the prior week was very different than the pool. Wetsuits? Nobody had a wetsuit. But, our team finished and we were hooked.
Triathlon is also me, standing at the finish line of the 2001 Barb’s Race, getting all verklempt when my friend Stephnee crossed the finish line of her first half Ironman. She’d done it and surprised herself by meeting and even surpassing her goal. It’s also being at the finish line in New Zealand when Steph finished her first Ironman. That was also the day when our friends Brent, Alyssa, Janet, Bernie, Andy and Clint became Ironmen.
It’s also watching the very first Tri for Fun put on by On Your Mark. My buddy Stu, the guy who got us into this triathlon thing in the first place, swam the course to set the buoys and there were only about 30 people racing. Fifteen years or so later, I’m standing on the same beach and hearing Mark announce to the crowd that for the first time in the history of the series, the field had hit 1,000 people and was 51% women. That same day, I was about half a mile from the finish, trying to finish strong, when a girl caught me and said she’d been chasing me for a while. She also said she was so excited because she was going to do it....finish her first triathlon! I told her to go on ahead, make sure her number showed for the photographer and to SMILE when she crossed the finish line. How happy I was for her! Earlier that morning, I’d driven out with club mate Tina who was battling first timers nerves and had a million questions. She also finished strongly and is now hooked.
It’s also knowing that my friend Victor raced the best he could, but was only the 4th best American in 2000. People told him, “Too bad you missed the Olympic team.” Victor disagrees. He did his best on the day and that’s all you can ask. Really, that’s all you can ask at any time in anything, to do your best. I try to keep his 3Ps in mind at all time--Passion, Patience, Persistence. (And, Vic still got to go to Sydney as first alternate.)
Then there was the women’s only Olympic distance race we did the second year we were racing. We swapped out our cyclist Paul for his fiancee’ (now wife) Toni, and we WON! We thereafter dumped Paul and had a new team. Not to worry, we found Paul a new swimmer and runner. For two years we finished pretty much in the top three of all the Northern California races we did. We then went to the Bud Light San Diego race and got our butts kicked. But, it was a great road trip and my first ocean swim.
It’s helping out with a women’s tri club and seeing women who are “late onset” athletes blossom and gain all kinds of self confidence. It’s going out to lunch and answering question after question and seeing that spark in their eye of “just maybe I can do this.” It’s hearing all about their races and hearing the pride in their voices when they talk about training and racing.
It’s my mother, who upon hearing I’d signed up for Ironman California 2000, say, “You ~know~ you’re not a runner.” After I DNFed that race and left the medical tent, she said, “I hope this isn’t going to put you off trying it again.” She and dad have now been to four ironman races and have become ironman spectator experts. They will be at number five in September.
It’s seeing my friends Mike, AJ, Jane, Robert, Steve and Lyza waiting for me at the finish of IM NZ, just like they said they would be. And the Taupo resident who, after seeing me out on the run, jumped in his car, drove down to the finish and stuck around until I came out of the mandatory medical, just to shake my hand and say congratulations. And the couple the next day who stopped at our table in a restaurant to say they’d seen me finish and congratulate me.
But perhaps, the most important piece of my triathlon experience are the triathletes themselves. There is a wonderful community of triathletes all over the world. Like-minded, fun, willing to help out or give advice, or even give you the shirt off their back. It’s a triathlete in one part of the United States packing up and shipping off his extra bike when he heard a fellow triathlete in another part of the country had his bike stolen and an important race coming up. It’s traveling for work and being able to find someone to swim, bike, run or just drink a beer with any place I go. It’s my local club, a great mix of young and old, fast and slow, pure beginners and long time triathletes, short distance racers and ironmen, all of whom cheer and support everyone, no matter your goals or aspirations. It’s a group of strangers, all signed up for the same race in 2000 and who met on a yellow web page, who are now very close friends. We’ve been through at least three marriages, a couple of divorces, engagements, breakups, birth of the next generation of triathletes and unfortunately, death. But all of this has been shared among people who are now friends, and who are like family. Yes, triathlon and the Ironman may have brought us all together, but there is something more that keeps us friends.
So, don’t say that M-dot is bigger than triathlon itself. Sure, it’s an important part, but at least in my world, only a very small part.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Tour de France 2003, part 1
My work asked me to write about my trip to the Tour, so I'm re-writing what was on Slowtwitch.com, filling in a few details. Here is part one.
WHO WANTS TO GO TO THE TOUR?
I don't remember how long I've been following the Tour de France, but it was before Greg Lemond's first win in 1986 (the first American to win the race). I still have a tape of the 1989 Tour, which came down to the final day....a time trial into Paris, in which Lemond came from behind to beat Frenchman Laurent Fignon by 8 seconds. Back then, before Outdoor Life Network, all you saw of the Tour were the highlights, maybe once a week during ABC’s Wide World of Sports, so you waited on pins and needles for the coverage in "Winning" magazine. Yes, even back in the late 1980s, I said, "Someday, I'm going to go to see the Tour." Fast forward to July 21, 2002.....
Earlier that day, seven of us had been sitting around Jean's patio drinking a few beers and sitting in the hot tub, when the subject of the Tour came up. I said, "Who wants to go to the Tour with me next year?" Everyone thought it was a grand idea, so that's how we came up with our traveling group of triathletes. After pouring over many different websites, Jean, JV, Fred and I decided on going with an Australian tour company for the first 9 stages—Paris to the Alpes. Our friends (and newlyweds) Dan and Laura went with an English company for a week, then went off to Italy.
Tour (the holiday, not the race) details: Our tour package included hotel, airport pickup, bus transfer, all breakfasts, some dinners, support, two ex-pro riders and one current pro and other rider guides, plus a host of other stuff, including the chance to ride parts of the same routes the Tour covered! (Airfare not included.) Our group was about 50/50 Aussie/American, with a few Canadians and one each—Kiwi, Brit, Scot and Mexican. Before I left, I thought the riding would be great, but really, for me, I was hoping the biggest thrill of the whole trip would be getting to see the Tour live. [http://www.bikestyletours.com/index.php]
THE PROLOGUE AND PARIS
First things first, it's probably not the best thing to develop a cough and stuffed nose (allergies or cold?) before flying across the Atlantic. I had both before I left and it turned into full blown laryngitis. At least I was able to keep everyone entertained. It was also fun to go to the chemist and have test out all kinds of different French remedies for le rhum et la toux.
We arrived in Paris and cleared customs (without them barely even looking at my passport, let alone getting it stamped!) and walked out where our buddy JV was waiting with two of the BikeStyle guys. Onto the bus and to the Novotel near the Tour Eiffel. We are finally here!!!!!!! A group was going to go for a ride, but we were too jet lagged, but we had to put our bikes together so they could take all the bike cases offsite and store them until we got back at the end of the trip. Well, I can put my bike together if I have to, but really, that is what I pay my guys at City Cycle to do. And, I was tired, had no voice and a hacking cough. I must have looked quite forlorn because Craig, one of the mechanics, came up and said, “Can I do that for you?” YES YOU CAN! Craig had my bike together in less than 10 minutes.
The first night in Paris, there was a group dinner where we met all the staff and the other tour guests. Jean, JV and I hit it off right away with Tony from Mexico. Poor Tony, his luggage and bike neither one had made it to Paris. Luckily the BikeStyle folks had given us bright blue t-shirts so he at least had something else to wear. The next day was Prologue Day—the start of the Tour de France! One thing we learned is that the Tour organizers want each day’s race to finish around TV prime time of 5:30 PM, so the start time each day changes, depending on the length and route of that day’s stage. (And, every stage is shown live on TV, with a repeat of the highlights later at night. And, after the live racing is over, there is a “post-game show”, the Velo Club, with interviews of riders and team managers and former riders. Five straight hours of cycling!!!) The Prologue didn’t start until about 1:00 or 2:00 PM, so we were able to ride the course in the morning. They took us out in about groups of 40, riding from our hotel, down to the Eiffel Tower, then around the course. As we were bumping across the cobblestone streets, Jean and I looked at each other and said, “WE ARE RIDING OUR BIKES ON THE STREETS OF PARIS!!!” I think we had smiles plastered on our faces the entire day. We rode two laps with many stops for photos, then went back to the hotel, showered and got ready to go watch the race. We ended up grabbing a park bench about 1,000 meters from the prologue finish and saw all 198 riders go by. There were lots of people on the course the entire day. After Lance (who went last as he was last year’s winner) went by, we walked back through the area where the teams parked their buses and were able to sneak in through an open gate where we weren’t supposed to be. That was great until the gendarmes kicked us out, but at least we got a close-up picture of Santiago Botero, one of our favorite riders.
REIMS AND THE CHAMPAGNE COUNTRY
The next day we got up and onto the buses and went to the start of Stage 1. That was really great as we scored a prime spot on the railing where the riders were getting ready to take off. We were behind three high school aged girls who knew how to work the system. They had photos and autograph books and would call the riders over (the trick is to call them by their first name and ask please) and almost ever rider they called over came over to sign and pose for a photograph. The most astute purchase I made before leaving was a tiny digital camera—Casio Exlim, no bigger than a credit card. I just stuck it in between two of the girls and got some great close-up shots. (As an aside, the camera also became bus entertainment as we would repeatedly look at every single picture every day, usually multiple times. We took 204 pictures.)
After seeing the riders take off, it was back on the buses and a drive to Meaux, the finish town. We unloaded the bikes and some of us rode out the back way to intersect with the race and watched the peleton go by and another group did a longer ride to Reims, our base for the next four nights. We rode hard to get back to the finish and made it. Stage 1 was a mass sprint, but unfortunately, a large number of riders went down about a quarter mile from the finish. At the finish of every stage, it’s like a festival, with thousands of people, food, drink, a big screen TV showing the live action out on the course and an announcer who talks non-stop for hours. It sure helps to know French though. We couldn’t see the big screen TV, but could hear the announcer and knew something was up and then reports began to filter in and riders began coming across the finish line in small groups instead of one big peleton and you could see ripped jerseys, bloodied elbows or knees and finally, one lone Gerolsteiner rider who walked down the finishing chute carrying his mangled bike over his shoulder. He got a huge ovation from the crowd. This is the stage where American Tyler Hamilton broke his collar bone and everyone thought his Tour was finished.
Meaux was an interesting place, a town split into old and new by a river. The old part was beautiful—old stone houses, small winding streets. The newer part where the actual finish was. was much poorer and ethnic. There were lots of kids, all running up shouting “Autographé” and asking to check out our bikes, some wanting to sit on them or try to ride them. Jean and Tony were standing side by side with their bikes and one father picked up his kid, about 6 years old, and put him down right in the middle of Jean and Tony and their bikes and took a roll of pictures. The kid at first wasn’t sure of all of this, but then broke into a big smile. After the excitement of the finish, we got lost getting back across the river but finally found the buses, loaded up the bikes and got to Reims.
Reims is in the Champaign region and this part of France is NICE! I will definitely come back here for more sightseeing and champagne tasting. We were here for four nights and our hotels were a block away from the main square which was lined with restaurants and cafes with outdoor seating and a few blocks away from the cathedral. Every evening we’d get back, shower and then walk down to the square and run into our fellow tour people. There was one particular place where everyone seemed to congregate since they served “giraffe beers”, which was a very tall draw of beer, sort of like a giant test tube with a spigot at the bottom. I’m not sure how many glasses it held, but it was a lot. Of course, to foster international relations with the Aussies, we daily took up their invitation to drink or dine with them. The other thing about Reims is that is pretty far north so it stayed light until nearly 10 PM every night. And, they had a great internet cafe, which is good for an email addict like me. But, those darned French keyboards!!! The letters were not in the right place!
For Stage 2, the plan was for the “slower” group to head out at 8:00 and the fast group to head out later. There is a definite difference in the Aussie definition of “slower”. Jean, JV and I put ourselves into the slower group, which was about 40 people. We headed out with Patrick Jonker, one of the ex-pros, and a few of the other BikeStyles guides, at a nice conversational pace, through the streets of Reims, on our way to the finish in Sedan (about 60 miles or less). We got out of town and the pace picked up a bit on the nice, empty country roads. We were riding in a double paceline (two abreast) and I was riding along chatting with my new Aussie buddies when we came to a stop. Time to check the maps. Patrick thought he knew where he was going, and we soon were riding on the freeway! Yes, a group of 40 zipping along in the right hand lane of the freeway. We were moving along at a much faster clip now and cars and semi trucks were zooming past us in the left lane, honking and waving (the friendly honk, not the you #$*! biker honk). A number of official Tour de France cars passed us shouting and waving. Later, Jean, JV and I laughed and laughed just thinking that we were riding on the freeway! (We think Patrick was just a little lost.) We got to our exit and pulled off and regrouped in one of the towns. For the rest of the ride, we were back on country roads, on the actual Tour route, riding through quaint little towns, each decorated with flowers and bicycles and people parked along the route, with table, chairs, baskets of food, bottles of wine and plenty of good cheer. As we rode along, everyone would shout out, “Allez” or “Bravo” or “Vite!” THIS is the reason I came to France!
--to be continued--
WHO WANTS TO GO TO THE TOUR?
I don't remember how long I've been following the Tour de France, but it was before Greg Lemond's first win in 1986 (the first American to win the race). I still have a tape of the 1989 Tour, which came down to the final day....a time trial into Paris, in which Lemond came from behind to beat Frenchman Laurent Fignon by 8 seconds. Back then, before Outdoor Life Network, all you saw of the Tour were the highlights, maybe once a week during ABC’s Wide World of Sports, so you waited on pins and needles for the coverage in "Winning" magazine. Yes, even back in the late 1980s, I said, "Someday, I'm going to go to see the Tour." Fast forward to July 21, 2002.....
Earlier that day, seven of us had been sitting around Jean's patio drinking a few beers and sitting in the hot tub, when the subject of the Tour came up. I said, "Who wants to go to the Tour with me next year?" Everyone thought it was a grand idea, so that's how we came up with our traveling group of triathletes. After pouring over many different websites, Jean, JV, Fred and I decided on going with an Australian tour company for the first 9 stages—Paris to the Alpes. Our friends (and newlyweds) Dan and Laura went with an English company for a week, then went off to Italy.
Tour (the holiday, not the race) details: Our tour package included hotel, airport pickup, bus transfer, all breakfasts, some dinners, support, two ex-pro riders and one current pro and other rider guides, plus a host of other stuff, including the chance to ride parts of the same routes the Tour covered! (Airfare not included.) Our group was about 50/50 Aussie/American, with a few Canadians and one each—Kiwi, Brit, Scot and Mexican. Before I left, I thought the riding would be great, but really, for me, I was hoping the biggest thrill of the whole trip would be getting to see the Tour live. [http://www.bikestyletours.com/index.php]
THE PROLOGUE AND PARIS
First things first, it's probably not the best thing to develop a cough and stuffed nose (allergies or cold?) before flying across the Atlantic. I had both before I left and it turned into full blown laryngitis. At least I was able to keep everyone entertained. It was also fun to go to the chemist and have test out all kinds of different French remedies for le rhum et la toux.
We arrived in Paris and cleared customs (without them barely even looking at my passport, let alone getting it stamped!) and walked out where our buddy JV was waiting with two of the BikeStyle guys. Onto the bus and to the Novotel near the Tour Eiffel. We are finally here!!!!!!! A group was going to go for a ride, but we were too jet lagged, but we had to put our bikes together so they could take all the bike cases offsite and store them until we got back at the end of the trip. Well, I can put my bike together if I have to, but really, that is what I pay my guys at City Cycle to do. And, I was tired, had no voice and a hacking cough. I must have looked quite forlorn because Craig, one of the mechanics, came up and said, “Can I do that for you?” YES YOU CAN! Craig had my bike together in less than 10 minutes.
The first night in Paris, there was a group dinner where we met all the staff and the other tour guests. Jean, JV and I hit it off right away with Tony from Mexico. Poor Tony, his luggage and bike neither one had made it to Paris. Luckily the BikeStyle folks had given us bright blue t-shirts so he at least had something else to wear. The next day was Prologue Day—the start of the Tour de France! One thing we learned is that the Tour organizers want each day’s race to finish around TV prime time of 5:30 PM, so the start time each day changes, depending on the length and route of that day’s stage. (And, every stage is shown live on TV, with a repeat of the highlights later at night. And, after the live racing is over, there is a “post-game show”, the Velo Club, with interviews of riders and team managers and former riders. Five straight hours of cycling!!!) The Prologue didn’t start until about 1:00 or 2:00 PM, so we were able to ride the course in the morning. They took us out in about groups of 40, riding from our hotel, down to the Eiffel Tower, then around the course. As we were bumping across the cobblestone streets, Jean and I looked at each other and said, “WE ARE RIDING OUR BIKES ON THE STREETS OF PARIS!!!” I think we had smiles plastered on our faces the entire day. We rode two laps with many stops for photos, then went back to the hotel, showered and got ready to go watch the race. We ended up grabbing a park bench about 1,000 meters from the prologue finish and saw all 198 riders go by. There were lots of people on the course the entire day. After Lance (who went last as he was last year’s winner) went by, we walked back through the area where the teams parked their buses and were able to sneak in through an open gate where we weren’t supposed to be. That was great until the gendarmes kicked us out, but at least we got a close-up picture of Santiago Botero, one of our favorite riders.
REIMS AND THE CHAMPAGNE COUNTRY
The next day we got up and onto the buses and went to the start of Stage 1. That was really great as we scored a prime spot on the railing where the riders were getting ready to take off. We were behind three high school aged girls who knew how to work the system. They had photos and autograph books and would call the riders over (the trick is to call them by their first name and ask please) and almost ever rider they called over came over to sign and pose for a photograph. The most astute purchase I made before leaving was a tiny digital camera—Casio Exlim, no bigger than a credit card. I just stuck it in between two of the girls and got some great close-up shots. (As an aside, the camera also became bus entertainment as we would repeatedly look at every single picture every day, usually multiple times. We took 204 pictures.)
After seeing the riders take off, it was back on the buses and a drive to Meaux, the finish town. We unloaded the bikes and some of us rode out the back way to intersect with the race and watched the peleton go by and another group did a longer ride to Reims, our base for the next four nights. We rode hard to get back to the finish and made it. Stage 1 was a mass sprint, but unfortunately, a large number of riders went down about a quarter mile from the finish. At the finish of every stage, it’s like a festival, with thousands of people, food, drink, a big screen TV showing the live action out on the course and an announcer who talks non-stop for hours. It sure helps to know French though. We couldn’t see the big screen TV, but could hear the announcer and knew something was up and then reports began to filter in and riders began coming across the finish line in small groups instead of one big peleton and you could see ripped jerseys, bloodied elbows or knees and finally, one lone Gerolsteiner rider who walked down the finishing chute carrying his mangled bike over his shoulder. He got a huge ovation from the crowd. This is the stage where American Tyler Hamilton broke his collar bone and everyone thought his Tour was finished.
Meaux was an interesting place, a town split into old and new by a river. The old part was beautiful—old stone houses, small winding streets. The newer part where the actual finish was. was much poorer and ethnic. There were lots of kids, all running up shouting “Autographé” and asking to check out our bikes, some wanting to sit on them or try to ride them. Jean and Tony were standing side by side with their bikes and one father picked up his kid, about 6 years old, and put him down right in the middle of Jean and Tony and their bikes and took a roll of pictures. The kid at first wasn’t sure of all of this, but then broke into a big smile. After the excitement of the finish, we got lost getting back across the river but finally found the buses, loaded up the bikes and got to Reims.
Reims is in the Champaign region and this part of France is NICE! I will definitely come back here for more sightseeing and champagne tasting. We were here for four nights and our hotels were a block away from the main square which was lined with restaurants and cafes with outdoor seating and a few blocks away from the cathedral. Every evening we’d get back, shower and then walk down to the square and run into our fellow tour people. There was one particular place where everyone seemed to congregate since they served “giraffe beers”, which was a very tall draw of beer, sort of like a giant test tube with a spigot at the bottom. I’m not sure how many glasses it held, but it was a lot. Of course, to foster international relations with the Aussies, we daily took up their invitation to drink or dine with them. The other thing about Reims is that is pretty far north so it stayed light until nearly 10 PM every night. And, they had a great internet cafe, which is good for an email addict like me. But, those darned French keyboards!!! The letters were not in the right place!
For Stage 2, the plan was for the “slower” group to head out at 8:00 and the fast group to head out later. There is a definite difference in the Aussie definition of “slower”. Jean, JV and I put ourselves into the slower group, which was about 40 people. We headed out with Patrick Jonker, one of the ex-pros, and a few of the other BikeStyles guides, at a nice conversational pace, through the streets of Reims, on our way to the finish in Sedan (about 60 miles or less). We got out of town and the pace picked up a bit on the nice, empty country roads. We were riding in a double paceline (two abreast) and I was riding along chatting with my new Aussie buddies when we came to a stop. Time to check the maps. Patrick thought he knew where he was going, and we soon were riding on the freeway! Yes, a group of 40 zipping along in the right hand lane of the freeway. We were moving along at a much faster clip now and cars and semi trucks were zooming past us in the left lane, honking and waving (the friendly honk, not the you #$*! biker honk). A number of official Tour de France cars passed us shouting and waving. Later, Jean, JV and I laughed and laughed just thinking that we were riding on the freeway! (We think Patrick was just a little lost.) We got to our exit and pulled off and regrouped in one of the towns. For the rest of the ride, we were back on country roads, on the actual Tour route, riding through quaint little towns, each decorated with flowers and bicycles and people parked along the route, with table, chairs, baskets of food, bottles of wine and plenty of good cheer. As we rode along, everyone would shout out, “Allez” or “Bravo” or “Vite!” THIS is the reason I came to France!
--to be continued--
Monday, September 01, 2003
The Big Calves Club
That's what Horace called me, Mark, Johnny and himself today. We might not have the whippet-thin triathlete look, but we kick butt on the bike. Horace used to body build and Johnny is getting ready for cyclo-cross and is borderline Clydesdale. Mark did IMCdA (his first) and is still on the margarita diet.
We had a great ride yesterday--4 hours with 9 miles of climbing and some serious motoring on the flats. Part of the ride was on a road I'd never been on (the part with the 9 mile climb), but it was a great ride and the climb wasn't so bad. I just kept it nice and steady. Followed the ride up with a short transition run in the heat. Cheetham, I've known for a long time and rode with in preparation for IM NZ 2001; Horace I rode with some last year in preparation for Ultramax 2002. Both of them said today that I'm riding better than they have ever seen. That made me pretty happy.
Oh, want to know how to thrill a girl? Tell her she's ready to start coming on the boyz hammer rides. All in all, a great day.
We had a great ride yesterday--4 hours with 9 miles of climbing and some serious motoring on the flats. Part of the ride was on a road I'd never been on (the part with the 9 mile climb), but it was a great ride and the climb wasn't so bad. I just kept it nice and steady. Followed the ride up with a short transition run in the heat. Cheetham, I've known for a long time and rode with in preparation for IM NZ 2001; Horace I rode with some last year in preparation for Ultramax 2002. Both of them said today that I'm riding better than they have ever seen. That made me pretty happy.
Oh, want to know how to thrill a girl? Tell her she's ready to start coming on the boyz hammer rides. All in all, a great day.
