Chipseal, Cobbles, and Pedals

Though there are times when events in our life do not go as planned, it is from these often frustrating instances that we learn how to make the most out of the moment.  When my computer decided to crash on me yesterday, I decided to remember the time I was a child and the hot water heater, vacuum, and probably the car too all decided to fall apart when my poor parents were just trying to get by.  When I thought of this…as I am sitting in an apartment in the most beautiful part of France with only myself to care for, I decided that I would survive!  So, with much haste I conquer typing on a French keyboard where all the letters are mixed around, to update you on my challenging race over the past weekend. 

Last Friday, while I was lying on the massage table, in paradise as my tired legs were getting rubbed down, I decided then and there that I should race my bike for the wonderful massages that come afterwards. The 4-day stage race in Limousine was a challenging test of both physical and mental will power.  The course consisted of many challenging climbs as well as technical descents on roads the size of American bike paths; a course that also sought after prime bike handling skills.  This weekend I was challenged in all these areas and found myself again struggling near the back.  Although my results were not what I had hoped for, I was able to overcome a hurting pride to finish every stage within the time limit and to learn what I needed to improve on. I found that my greatest weakness was descending.  I would give myself too much room and then I would have to work hard to catch back up.  Sometimes I felt at ease as we’d fly around the bends, but other times I was more tense as the pace was high and the turns more technical.  It was hard for me to trust the wheels in front, but I will admit that my confidence had improved from the previous week.  Even in practice, you can never simulate the effect of flying down a narrow bending road at high speeds in a group of 100 women!

Nothing happened until 90Ks into the race when we came upon a very very steep climb. It was there that the race broke apart as women were scrambling up the hill. I too became separated from the front group and soon it began to rain.  The last 20Ks was a double lap circuit and included the most dangerous turns.  You would come screaming down a hill at full speed and then have a sudden right hand 100 degree turn!  I was on my own by then and slowed to a near stall to get around the turn as adrenaline was exploding through my body.  I finished the race and immediately felt like I could just lay down and die; my brain was a bowl of mush. 

The drive back to the dorms was an hour and I utilized the time to stuff my face; sandwich after sandwich, drink after drink until finally my brain began functioning again.  My parents weren’t kidding when they said, “food is fuel for your brain.”

                                                            Starting area for Saturday’s race.

Saturday’s stage went better for me as it was the most challenging course I had ever ridden.  It was a pure test of physical strength and will power. The course profile couldn’t justify the amount of climbing we did, as only would a seat in a saddle with two legs pedaling away make sense of what our bodies were put through.

The beginning of the race was fast with both descending and flat areas. I was more comfortable but had to yell at myself to fill the gaps and move closer. It was early into the race when the climbing began. I was proud when on the second hill I was able to lunge myself straight to the front. But soon it was on the third, long and steady climb that I struggled to stay with the group.  Girls were getting strung out.  The team car  went by and Sebastian pointed at the group of ladies behind that I should wait and work with them.  We were only at 20Ks into the 120K race.  I was relieved when my teammate Sylvia came behind and put her hand on my back as if to say, “I’m here”.

We spent the next 100 kilometers climbing our hearts out and working together to finish the race within the time limit. The 9 of us had an unspoken alliance that we would stay together. I felt strong on the climbs and sat at the front of the group, keeping a rhythm and singing in my head a mixture of “Allez, allez allez allez,” and Johnny Cash’s Big River song.  I felt very strong until 25Ks to go when we became very fatigued and praying that there wouldn’t be another hill.  My chain fell off on one of the steeper climbs and because of that alliance we had, when I stopped to put it back on, the group slowed the pace and waited up for me. When we finally saw the sign with 1K to go, everyone’s spirits were uplifted as we were so happy to give our bodies a rest.

I had drank about 6 bottles of fluid during the race and chugged down another three.  I felt better than the day before as my confidence had been boosted by surviving the course.  The same day, back in good ol’ Laramie, Wyoming, the Enduro was taking place.  As exhausted as I felt, I remembered watching Aaron and Carl last summer when they too gave everything they had to just finish the enduring mountain race. Sometimes our biggest feats can be merely finishing what we have started.

                                                                                      How the French enjoy bike races. 

The final day of Limousine did not turn out how I had expected as again I was dropped early into the race.  But I fought my hurting pride, found a group to work with, and finished the race.  I felt frustrated with myself, but decided, “Hey, I am racing my bike in beautiful France where people are cheering. This isn’t so bad.”  So, I suddenly smiled as a man yelled “Se bon! Allez!” as we rode through a small village.  Another person sat along side of the road in a red speedo, striped towel, and umbrella, as if he was on the beach, and aged ladies with silver hair cheered as they remanenced about their past. ”I should enjoy this moment,” I thought.  And I did.

Six countries in one week; Belgium, Czech Republic, Poland, German, Holland, and France. As I sped across the audubon of Germany, back to Belgium on Sunday, I smiled in the back seat of the car. All I could think of was that I have wanted to do this my whole life.  Now here I am in the midst of my adventure.

After returning from an eventful weekend in Czech, I packed my few belongings and boarded a plane to France.  My home away from home, Limoux was sunny and warm, and new adventures awaited for the week. I had left Tielt-Winge at 4:30am as Kieran had kindly driven me to the airport for my 6:30 flight.  I arrived in Limoux at 8am and by 10 o’clock, I was headed in the van with Chris, Jasmine, Cam, and two other local riders for a 17 K climb up the Pic de Nore. We were told to go as hard as we could, and I finished with a time of 1:00.33. Chris had taken off like a rabbit, and beat me by 4 minutes.  “I know you can do better,” he said.  “You should be able to do it in 50 minutes.”

    Chris, Jasmine, Me, Cam, and two riders from Limoux at the top of the Pic de Nore.

The view was a spectacle from the top, and as I was cruising around after my effortful climb, a group of school children were walking up the road.  A small boy, about 14 years of age handed me a handful of wild-flowers with the roots still attached.  “Bonjour madame!” I gladly took the flowers, “Merci!” All the children began to giggle as their classmate had cleverly flirted with the lady cyclist. 

      The peleton of the Tour de France.

Thursday, the Tour de France was in route through the region.  Chris gave me a map with time-tables of when the race would come through each town and I planned a good workout near the area.  I packed my small courier bag with some recovery drink, lunch, sandals, and a jacket and took off on my ride.  My workout for the day was three 12 minute efforts up a climb, so when I reached the climb, I hid my sack in the brush and started climbing. The workout went by with ease as the climbing the day before had been such a challenge. I found my way to the town of Puivert and immediately reserved a spot on the sidewalk to view the race.

                There I am! Right after the peleton flew past.

While eating my salami sandwich I had packed along, children nearby sang in chorus, “Allez, allez allez allez!” Old men sat with arms crossed, and families had picnics of bread, cheese, and wine. People moved in and out of their houses, and everyone conversed with both friends and strangers. I had arrived an hour early, but just missed the souvenir van that came through. Team cars drove through the town honking in a parade as the crowd waved and cheered.  Anticipation for the riders grew as more vehicles drove through and finally helicopters hovered above.  Everyone stood up and the noise of the crowd grew.  Finally, the moment came and a group of about 10 riders came flying around the corner.  A minute later the peleton followed and the fans went wild!  But in only moments it was all over and everyone began heading home.  I had randomly met up with Cam and Jamie, so we rode back to Limoux together. Being that I had climbed most of the way to Puivert, the 40 minute ride home was mostly down hill.

                                          The lamb is getting drizzled with flaming pork fat.

Later that evening, Chris invited me to join him and his guests in Bugarach for a wonderful meal.  The menu was similar to what we had back in April, only this time instead of wild-boar, we were treated to a specially cooked lamb. The evening ended with full tummies and I returned home, ready to turn down for the night. 

                   Overlooking a beautiful landscape, an hour and a half into the ride.

Friday, Jasmine and I went on an adventurous 4 1/2 hour ride over hills, through ancient towns, and many micro climates.  The morning started warm, humid and windy, and turned hot and dry halfway through the ride.  Midway, we stopped in the ancient town of Lagrasse and sat down to rest and eat our sandwiches we’d packed along.

            The ancient city of Lagrasse.

The rest of the loop involved three major climbs, the first being the most prominent.  As the weather had become very hot and windy, fatigue had started to settle in for the both of us.  But, when we had finally crested the final climb, a burst of excitement ran through my body and I took of sprinting and throwing my fists in the air as if I’d just won a race.  “All down-hill from here!” 

Now I sit, resting inside the cool stone building, laptop in hand as the sun beats down upon the French rooftops outside.  Today I rest, completely off the feet and prepare for another adventure tomorrow, racing up 10-hills with Chris.

They say bad luck comes in threes. I had a bit of bad luck over the weekend, but in the end, I was still proud that I had finished and felt I had learned some valuable lessons from my misfortunes.

Wednesday I flew into Prague and met up with my team mates for the weekend.  I was guest riding for a team called Luciano out of Great Britain.  Gabby Day was there, and I knew her quite well from living at the house in Belgium.  We took a transfer shuttle from Prague to Krasna Lipa.  It took 3 hours because the driver got lost and the whole time we kept making jokes about ‘an American, a Scottish, and two British women missing, last seen in Prague airport.’  We imagined all the terror movies we’d seen where people got drug out into the woods and Gabby emphasized this by making stabbing motions at me.  We all laughed and were perfectly safe arriving to the little town of Krasna Lipa.

The first day of racing started with rain and wet roads.  There was lots of descending in the beginning, so everyone was a bit edgy.  I wasn’t in a good position and it was only 10Ks into the race that I got dropped from the first group on the climb. Stewart, our manager motor-paced me to catch up.  Motor-pacing is when you’re sitting behind a car and you’re able to pedal at high speeds because the vehicle is blocking the wind; this is legal in professional races.  Anyhow, I was flying at probably 30MPH coming into a round-about.  I was so close to the girls ahead, but the road was wet and the pavement slightly banked, so I suddenly panicked, realizing I was going too fast and tapped my breaks.  Immediately I did a superman-dive onto the pavement, like a belly-flop into a pool and began sliding nearly 30feet on my stomach.  I screamed in agony as I felt the wind get knocked out of me and the bony part of my hips take a beating.  Stewart was behind, so he got out of the car and helped me up.  Soon a girl came speeding around and must have braked to avoid the car and came sliding almost under the vehicle!  My stomach hurt.  I thought I was going to vomit as all my abdominal muscles were cramping up.  “Are you going to finish or do you want to get in the car?”  I had a quick vision of a note my brother Mike had written, “Mel, you will crash, but you are tough so you will get up and catch the front group.”  Through sobs, I said, “I’ll just…ride.”

So, I pedaled and soon realized that I only had two of my hardest gears to use; my 12 in my big ring and small ring. (The 12 is the hardest gear in the back). The shifting had completely failed.  I thought, “Well, I rode a fixed gear all winter, I can do this.”  I had to stand a lot and the course was very hilly, but I found my legs feeling fresher as time passed.  I rode with another girl and we were at the very back with the last support vehicle.  I was having difficulty on one of the steep climbs, so I stopped to fiddle with my bike.  The support people told me I could quit, but I said ‘no’.  So, on the really steep climbs, they let me hang onto the vechicle and they helped pull me along.  (This is also legal…especially if you’re in last place. Also, don’t do this unless you’re a professional!) We caught three other girls and stayed together the rest of the race.  Sometimes I could drop them on the hills, but they’d catch a ride up to me. 

The last 10Ks was beautiful on a windy road through the forest.  With only 2Ks to go, my shifting started to work again!  I had gears!  Immediately I laughed and when we turned the corner for the finish, I sprinted like there was no tomorrow.  I was very proud of myself for finishing after crashing and riding for about 60 miles with only two gears, but I found out later that night when we got the results, that I was 5 minutes off the time cut.

The next morning I awoke, very sore in my lower abdomen, but ready to see if I could race.  I had to ask the chief judge for permission, since I hadn’t made the time cut.  He was very nice and spoke English well.  “It is too late,” he said.  “You should have asked yesterday.”  “But we didn’t get the results until late last night.”  “Ok, I will think about it.”  I warmed up and five minutes before the start of the race, he gave me permission to ride!

The race started off well and I moved up to the front, but when we came through the forest, onto the wet and windy road, I was was a little timid, thinking of my crash from the day before. I lost position, but when we came to the first hill, the race leaders came around me and I thought, “I’m ok.” So, I pounded up the hill and got back into the group.  When I thought I was fine, I heard my rear wheel blow, “hissssssssss” and immediately raised my arm in the air and radioed my team.  The US Team car drove by first and they pulled over to help me out.  The mechanic changed my wheel quickly and gave me a big push.  I chased through the cars and Stewart came by and motor-paced me for awhile.  When we came to a turn, I saw a rider going straight and followed her.  This was a bad decision because she had gone off course.  I lost radio contact so I couldn’t hear Stewart telling me to turn around.  Soon I figured this out and turned around, spending the remainder of the time chasing alone.

                    Finishing town on second day.  Sorry for the lack of pictures…my batteries died and I didn’t bring any spares.

I soared up the climbs and my legs felt so powerful.  I kept eating and drinking.  Near the last lap on our figure-eight circuit course, I was mistaken as a race leader and was sent in the wrong direction! When the leaders came by me, it appeared I had been lapped.  I had no idea what was going on, so I just kept racing, minding not to jump into the groups as I didn’t see it as being an ethical choice. In the end, I finished strong.

Later that night, we received the results and I saw that I was cut from the race.  In a stage race, if you don’t finish a stage within the time limit, you aren’t allowed to continue the next day.  When I saw on paper that I wasn’t going to race the naxt day, it hit me hard and hurt. I had felt so strong, and still wouldn’t be able to race.

                             Getting ready for podium awards after second stage.

After I had crossed the finish line that day, I returned the wheel to the US Team. The guys said to me, “So Melissa, how is the race going?”  “Alright I guess,”  I paused, “Just had a bit of bad luck this week.”  I laughed as I thought of everything that had happened and continued, “But this is still great training and I’m learning a lot.”  Their faces lit up and they replied, “That’s a great attitude to have.”

Saturday I took the train to the race.  As I was returning home, smiling with pride I might add, I was riding in the first-class cabin, as a kind gentleman and cycling fan had given me a seat.  Someone had asked, “Do you eat something special?”  I replied, “Well, just these gooey things you rip the tops off and squirt into your mouth.”  “Oh, astronaut food!!”  We all laughed, and later I decided that I should have told him, “Yes, I ate a piece of Old Glory pie last night…and that’s what gave me such power today!”

                                                      Old Glory Pie

As it was the 4th of July, everyone at the house was very interested in how Americans celebrate the holiday.  So, just to give the Kiwi’s and Aussies a treat, I called my mother up and got a recipe for an Old Glory pie.  We all joined in and made salads and had a wonderful BBQ, and as we sat around and conversed. Kieren the Irishman told stories of the American independence and declared it to be a fight started by an Irishman!  The food was welcoming as I had spent another hard week of training.  To top it off, my coach had given me some advice to go play around with my bike and practice cornering, and doing figure-eight exercises.  I had a lot of fun with these drills and soon found myself diving into every corner I could possibly find.

Now, to the race…

                                           Train station in Kontich

As mentioned before, I took the trains north to Kontich for another Belgium crit. My legs felt great and from the start of the race, I sensed something good would happen. In the beginning, the peleton only inched forward.  No one attempted to attack, and for a second I was a little disappointed because I was hoping for a race, not tea.  So after two laps, I moved to the front and at that instant, a girl attacked on the corner and I was the first person to jump on it.  It had begun to rain and the white paint became very slippery, so everyone was cautious on the corners.  Like a madwoman, I decided I shouldn’t care and I’d be as aggressive as possible. I took them hard, only once having my back wheel slide out.  From that moment on, I stayed in the front; there were five of us rotating through, taking pulls and keeping the pace high.  A few girls would attack and I’d jump on it and again get into the habit of rotating through to the front to take a pull.

Suddenly, I looked back and didn’t see any riders behind us! I thought, “Oh my!  We have a break….and I’m in it!!” Immediately I got back in, pushing through and sharing the work.  There were 14 ladies in our group and all were very serious and organized.  We took quick pulls at the front and some kept yelling, “Come on, come on!  Get closer to the wheels. Pull through!  You can do it!”  And we did.  We had separated from the peleton sometime around 40 minutes into the race, and held it for the remainder, finishing with almost a 2 minute lead. Our finishing time was about 1:50.  Coming into the last sprint, my legs were beat, and I found myself at the front of the group right before the sprint.  I waited for someone to move, and when it happened, they all flew around me and I was completely annihilated in the sprint!  I placed 14th and was very proud of how the race turned out.  Finally, I figured out how to stay at the front! I won 12 Euros and nearly paid for my trip.

As I rode the 15 Ks to the house in Tielt from the train station in Aarschot, I had a smile on my face the entire time.  The rain couldn’t even wash it away.