Monthly Archives: August 2011

Back at it today.

After worrying a bit how the legs would respond to yesterday’s rest day, I am happy to report that I made it through the initial 8.1km climb no problem. It was definitely a hectic start, however, a whole handful of riders fighting off the front to get in to the breakaway. It was also nervous today for the most part of the race, which hasn’t really happened yet. Sure, the previous stages have been nervous at times, but it seemed that almost all day today everyone was on guard, fighting for position. Nervousness equals crashes, and today definitely had it’s fair share. I counted three that happened in my vicinity, luckily never involving me.

So I made it over the first climb no problem, with some riders not so lucky but regaining contact to the bunch later on. The legs actually felt so good that over a couple rollers I made my way to the front, and on a downhill, launched a counter-attack to try and bridge up to a group of 5. We all got reeled in, however, and I paid dearly for my effort as we hit another roller/climb-that-is-not-a-climb. I suffered through it, slowly making my way to the back of the pack as we climbed to save energy.

Soon enough, the break was established, with a dozen riders in it–including our own Manuel Quinziato.

The pack never really slowed, as it normally does when a break is let go–this was due to its size. 14 guys in the break vs. Team Sky defending the jersey is not an easy task for them so they never let the pace get too slow.

Today’s stage was hard. Yet another up and down all day kind of stage. Most of it on small, bumpy Spanish roads… I felt good though, was suffering at times, but never too much. The day passed by rather quickly actually and soon enough we were nearing the penultimate 3rd category climb before the final ascent-of-death to Montaña Manzaneda.

I had kept hydrated and fueled all day, and was able to set into a rhythm on the second to last climb, making it over no problem. As we descended down to the base of the last climb my plan was just to hold on until a grupetto was formed and then I would jump in there and ‘cruise’ up to the top.

The grupetto didn’t form for quite a while, but this was no matter as I wasn’t in a desperate state. Some of you might be wondering, if you felt good, why would you just get dropped? Well, even on my greatest day I can’t climb with the best of the best at this moment in my career. AND, this race is about survival and making it as far as possible, which means saving energy when I can.

That said though, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten dropped early, because once I did, and once the road percentages started rising towards the 15-20% range…I started to feel like SHIT. Even in the grupetto, where I was supposed to be ‘cruising’. To start off with, the final climb–on paper was 19km, but the base came after a good 11km of climbing that didn’t count to the actual finishing climb. So the grupetto ended up forming just BEFORE the technical start of the climb.

It also didn’t help to have Tony Martin at the head of our grupetto. I’m not sure of his reasons for getting dropped, and I have to the utmost respect for the man as he is beastly on a bike, but he was riding way too hard for us mere mortals.

Something didn’t feel right on my end of things–I was pedaling, I had the right gears, we were maybe going ‘too hard’ but it should not have been too uncomfortable wattage-wise. I just felt empty, drained, life-less. I was constantly wincing–I wasn’t even breathing that hard, I didn’t even feel like my legs hurt, but I could barely turn them. My body was silently screaming at me NO by completely shutting down.

Um, dear body, not really a good time.

The worst part of it all was passing the 15km to go mark and knowing I still had an hour of this body-prison to endure before I would be done.

It was all I could do to hold the wheel in front of me. I urged myself to eat, to drink, but minutes would pass before I even realized what I was telling myself.

A Movistar rider tried to pass me on my right and bumped my handle bars with his. I then spent almost ten minutes wishing I could ask him why he did that. Why was that necessary? Why did you have to do that? It wasn’t even a big deal! We all bump into each other countless times on a day to day basis… I was just so out of it, I fixated on it–I couldn’t let it go. And I couldn’t do anything about it. All I could do was alternate between pedaling seated, and pedaling standing.

A couple weeks ago I talked about the feeling of nothingness you get when on good form. Today I had that feeling, that feeling of nothing, but it was exactly the opposite of good. Like I mentioned before, my body felt like a prison and I had nowhere to go. Funny the human roller coaster ride cycling takes you on.

Tony finally went off on his own after enough people yelled at him, which was a relief.

The kms had clicked by slowly, and I had a good friend in the grupetto–CJ Sutton from Sky. He’d been working all day on the front and noticed the dire state I was in almost immediately upon looking at me. He gave me a gel, a push, and some positive words. I ate the gel, relished the 2 seconds of relief I got from his push, and could barely make sense out of what he told me.

Back into the prison.

Over the last 5km I gradually made my way to the back of our grupetto. Not on purpose, but due to the fact That I started to go slower than everyone else.

I stared at my SRM, watching the meters as they counted down to the finish. I stared at the ground. I stared at the wheel in front of me. I stared and stared.

My body empty, my mind empty. I felt nothing, I felt life-less. What am I doing?

And then I made it, and it was over. I’d like to say that I made a concerted effort to finish last today, but no, I really did…finish last. Not off the back of our group, but last place nonetheless.

I am now quite tired, especially after writing all of this!

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is even a ‘flat’ stage! Hallelujah.

-tp

It is very strange. After the time trial, I was more worried about the rest day than any other day we have completed so far. While this might sound absolutely ludicrous, hear me out.

For 10 days I beat my body into the ground. For the first 6 days my body resisted and subsequently I felt like crepe (yes I consciously just wrote crepe instead of crap it is more politically correct). On day 7, my body had a bit of respite, but that day was still a race day where I burned over 3500 calories and sat on a bike for somewhere around 5 hours. From day 8 onward through day 9 and 10 my legs then felt great–my body seemingly accepting it’s fate and finding a rhythm at which to take the pain.

Yesterday, however, I gave my body the ultimate treat. I didn’t torture it… Yesterday we rode 2 hours at a leisurely pace, soaking up every minute of calm we could–stopping to take pictures…the lot.

Now I fear that my body may be confused. I fear that my body might think this race is over, that it gets to rest now.

Today we start straight uphill, 8.1km of uphill to be exact.

Will my body resist? Is it too late? Or will the old bod go back in acceptance mode and just take the pain I dish out to it.

In about an hour and a half I will know.

Yikes.

-tp

Wowza. That really, really hurt.

Today’s TT was a long one, 47km to be exact–I think it is actually the longest TT I have ever done both in distance and time. To be quite honest, I really don’t know why I like time trialling. I mean, I don’t hate myself, I don’t freakishly enjoy pain more than the next guy. At the end of most time trials I often wonder to myself ‘how in the world did I just do that?’ Today was another one of those days.

The plan was laid out the night before and looked exactly like this:

8:15 wake up, kit up, eat breakfast.
8:45 drive 25km of course, ride last 22km.
10:00 eat race meal. Rice and eggs–YUM
10:30 shower–shave legs, shave arms, shave face.
11:30 leave hotel for start
12:20 start warm up
13:11 hurt yourself on your TT bike for approximately an hour.

All of this went according to plan. As I began my warm up, and even hours earlier when doing course recon, I could tell my legs were still responding well to the previous days of racing. How well, we would soon find out.

I was nervous, but relaxed. The good thing about a long TT is you have time to settle in, find your rhythm and for me that is a comforting thought. In a prologue or a shorter time trial, a lot of focus is on gear changes, taking the corners as fast as possible and holding that high rhythm when you can. I was so relaxed today in fact that a couple times I had to remind myself that the upcoming time trial was not going to be easy and was actually going to be one of the most difficult hours of my life if I did it right.

Typically, I do much better when I am relaxed–when I can joke with teammates, smile, bust out a couple dance moves… That is when I know I can put in a good result. Intensity for me is best saved for the race. I take my profession very very seriously when I have to…all of the other times I want to enjoy my life and smile as much as I can.

So back on track… Warm up was great, the staff was great in taking care of any and all of my needs and soon I found myself in the start house.

Funnily enough, the girl holding my bike up on the starting ramp was my teammate Manuel Quinziato’s girlfriend… We exchanged smiles, I told her to give me a big old push and soon enough I was off.

Note: she did not push me. I was quite disappointed.

Having never done a 47km time trial I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect or how to pace myself. One thing I do have to my advantage, however, is a great understanding of my own body. Somehow, when I’m on form, no matter the distance, I just know how hard to go. This natural instinct has served me very well in the past, and today was no different.

Since I am 3rd to last on general classification, I was 3rd to start which meant I had 2 guys in front of me acting as carrots for me to catch.

I started conservatively, focusing on my cadence and I knew almost immediately that I felt great. That ‘great’ feeling only lasts so long however and soon, the sweat was dripping down from my helmet onto the inside of my glasses and my breathing quickened.

Pace yourself, good. This is great. Nice cadence. You can do this. I had my greatest motivator–myself–in my own head, as well as Rik on the radio.

The road whizzed by, continuously rolling, never flat. I focused on were I could keep speed and always kept a high cadence–around 105-110 rpm.

I had black tape over my Watts on the SRM so as not to psych myself out, but kept an eye on speed, distance, and cadence.

The suffering in a time trial begins immediately. However, it comes in various forms. At the start you are fresh, the adrenaline is flowing. This feeling is quickly replaced with a slight tingling that is uncomfortable but manageable. Upon getting around halfway you are hurting, heaving the air in and out of your lungs. The last quarter of the race you are on the precipice of death. You can see the light. You wish so dearly for the pain to stop but you can’t. You push, and you push.

I knew that the last half of the race would make all the difference. Having seen the course firsthand I knew it was much more difficult than expected. There were 3 small climbs that you had to power over and then 17km averaging slightly downhill until 1km to go.

As I crested the top of the final mini-climb and arrived on the plateau with the key 17km remaining, I was in pain. I tried to block it out, focus on my cadence but fork…it hurt. I kept the speed up, trying to find the right gear on the bumpy Spanish pavement, knowing that in a km or so I would have some seconds to breathe as it was steep enough downhill that I could coast.

The downhill passed much too quickly and just like that I was back in the zone. In the box. In the pain cave. Whatever you want to call it, I wasn’t happy but I had to push. This was where I would make up all my tim–this section here, the last rolling downhill 15km.

The kms went by quickly as I was sitting on 60-62kph. The legs, while burning, still managed to stay at a high cadence and I just had to fight and fight, push and push to the finish. I thought about the days I had suffered already here in the Vuelta and how I had come here just for this.

Go Taylor. Go!

10km to go.
9.
8, 7, 6.
5 to go. Come on!!!
4km, just like on the track, keep the speed up!
3km, the beautiful city of Salamanca was fast approaching.
2. Get over the cobbled bridge, into town and…
1km to go. This is it! Go go go!
500 meters. It will all be over soon, PUSH.
300.
200.
150. Shit! Fork in the road where the cars pull off and riders continue to the finish. Left!
50m to go it is done! Bike throw!

Hard on the brakes as to not hit the barriers!

As I gasped for air and fought the urge to throw up, someone from race organization notified me that to get out of the finish area I would have to walk down a flight of stairs.

‘Are you kidding me?’ I could barely move I was so toast…

BUT, I made it down safely, one step at a time, carrying my lovely steed–my BMC TM01 I have grown so fond of in these past months

As I got to the bottom, I could finally breathe a sigh of relief and just coast for a bit, Rik and Och coming up to me in the team car praising my efforts.

All I could say was ‘F**K that hurt.’

But when I can finish feeling as terrible as I did today…I know I had a good ride.

I believe my end result was 5th and I am quite happy with that considering the past 9 days and this being my first grand tour and all…

Tomorrow. REST DAY! I’ve never been so excited in my life.

Keep it real and remember, save that intensity for when you really need it! The rest of the time, stay happy chappies.

-tp

As I write this, we are attempting to drive down the mountain we just climbed up by bike–in the bus, in a traffic jam. Lovely!

It’s not too bad actually…now that I found my phone that had wedged itself in the seat. Not having my phone was causing me much distress as I was worried I would be unable to write this blog! I’ve been receiving so many nice comments on it that I didn’t want to leave any of you hanging!

So anyways. Today was nice. I am learning that an ‘easy’ day here equates to a fairly hard training day if I were to do it on my own. Any day I burn over 4100 calories is a pretty big day of training for me! Here, it is recovery.

Ahh, we are off the climb now. Goodie goodie gum drops.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. So, today started quite hard, straight up a 5km 3rd category climb. I had found my legs yesterday, however, and had no problem with the pace. It wasn’t easy-breezy-beautiful-covergirl, but it wasn’t all that difficult either. If you had told me a couple weeks ago that 9 days into a grand tour I would be feeling better than I have felt all year I may have slapped you for your silly talk.

Wow, I keep getting really distracted.

The break went easily after the climb as the road narrowed and the peloton was able to block it off to any other riders who wished to follow the attacks. For the next 100 or so km, we just rolled. Nobody was nervous, everybody was chatty–it was very nice. The breakaway got up to ten minutes and as we approached the feed zone, over the radio we learned that there may be some crosswinds in a couple km. The nervousness in the pack rose as it became apparent that everybody else had learned this little tid-bit. I always enjoy a good crosswind section, it is one of those times in a race where you can scream and yell, push and shove, fight for wheels etc. Yes, I enjoy that. While it wasn’t that intense at all today…the adrenaline did start flowing for a bit and I got to fight for some wheels.

Nothing came of the crosswinds and soon enough we were back into a headwind. Karsten Kroon had been taking care of me all day, keeping me out of the wind and such. I pride myself on being very good at following his squirrely Dutch figure through a pack of 200 riders, so I had fun with that as we all geared up for the big finishing climb to Sierra De Béhar. La Covatilla. Yes, that is really what it is called, with the period in there and everything!

My plan of the day was purely to save energy. As we hit a couple rollers before the climb I was still feeling good and chilled in the pack until the base of the climb where I pulled the plug and waited for a grupetto that had already been dropped with Cancellara and Kittel.

From the base, we made our way slowly up the mountain. We waved at cute girls and threw our finished bottles to kids. With sections of 10-13% the climb was still not exactly enjoyable but soon enough the finish was in sight.

Tomorrow is the TT. While it is a bit longer than I would like (47km), I have been feeling great these past few days and will give it all I’ve got.

Until then, it has been real. Thanks for reading

-tp

Song for the day:

I believe that I stole this quote from my father, but damn, it feels good…to feel good.

When I went to bed last night, I knew today was going to be a better day for me. I don’t know how I knew or why, I just knew. After a solid 10 hours of slumber, I REALLY knew that today, I was gonna be just fine.

Now, this may have been a bit over-confident of me, as I had been dreading this stage 8 for a couple days now. Featuring over 3700m of climbing (that’s above 12,000ft for you Americanos), and especially with yesterday having been ‘easy’–today was going to be brutal, no matter what.

So for me, today was a day where I NEEDED to feel good, otherwise my ability to continue this most epic of Vueltas would be in serious jeopardy.

The stage started uphill, not for very long, but the first 20km were very undulating. And I know by now what undulating means here in Spain. Very, very hard.

Yesterday’s breakaway went right at the drop of the flag. While I still kept my fingers crossed that maybe, just maybe it could happen again today, I had to remain realistic. After yesterday’s cruise, everyone and their mother wanted to be in the breakaway.

Just hang on.

I knew in the neutral that I finally had decent legs. That aching I had experienced the first 6 days was gone, I felt like someone had tuned my engine and I was finally running back to normal. In the past few days, when the peloton hit a hill, I would go backwards almost so fast I needed brake lights. Today I found myself, found my gear, found my legs. I even kept telling myself, you can do this.

You can do this.

Meanwhile, a big breakaway of 27 had gotten away. This was not good. But, where I usually would be nervous, today I was not.

You can do this.

I even found my ability to be at the front, and STAY at the front. Liquigas chased hard as the red jersey of Chavanel was up the road in the group of 27.

By now we were approaching the first, biggest, and most difficult climb of the day. I kept my fingers crossed that we would catch the group by the base and let something else go…otherwise, if Liquigas is riding all out on a climb…everything would blow to pieces.

Luckily, blow to pieces we did not. The group of 27 was caught and another little break of 4 was let go before we even hit the climb. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the pace settled.

While I did in fact have good legs today, I am still 82kg and climbs do HURT. Even when we are going ‘slow’. I kept positive, and tried to settle in.

You can do this.

A couple km from the top I was starting to suffer, I found myself at the rear of the peloton after drifting back over the entirety of the last 17km of climbing. It was do or die and I gritted my teeth and held on. As we crossed the top, I heaved in some big gulps of air and gave myself a pat on the back.

You CAN do this!

After the descent the pack settled into a nice rhythm for the next kms as our second climb was still an hour and half or so away. The road was by no means flat, but I had made it over the biggest climb of the day and felt comfortable. As comfortable as one can feel racing a bike…

I ate, I drank, and before I knew it, the next climb was fast approaching.

Upon hitting the base, I kept an ear out for anyone calling for a grupetto as the climb was long enough to cause some pain to us big folk. The pace wasn’t terribly high however and I knew that if it stayed that way, I’d just have to man up and hold on to the peloton.

Just as a side note; I felt good today, but I was still planning on jumping into the grupetto as soon as I had the chance! I want to prolong these good sensations as much as possible…and to do that I need to save energy where ever I can!

I managed to hang on to the pack for the second climb, but was forced to stop for a crash about 500m from the top. As the speed was being maintained in the front, and we had just come to a standstill, I knew that we would have to chase pretty hard to make it back–especially considering there was a very short downhill which ran right into another climb. We dangled off the main peloton for a couple km and I did my part at the front of our group to get Santambrogio back to the pack as he had also been delayed on the climb.

He made it back, and then I even made it back a couple km later, leaving some other riders behind.

Huh. I like feeling good!

The next climb, I was sure that a grupetto would form, as the base was only 30km from the finish. We hit the bottom quite hot and shouts of ‘grupetto!’, ‘GRUPETTO!’ erupted from around me. I eased up, along with some of my grupetto mates from days prior.

A friend of mine who I have spent a fair amount of time with here in Spain, Robert Wagner, came up to me and exclaimed ‘We’re safe! On to tomorrow…’

We were in fact safe. I kept hydrated and fueled and we rolled the last 30km as easy as we could. In the last km we also caught a bigger group that had been up the road with Sagan and Cancellara. Meanwhile, there was even a big group behind us. I hadn’t been the first to get dropped today! Sometimes you have to celebrate the little victories…

On to tomorrow.

-tp

Hope. That is my word of the day…

Today, for the first time in this race I started to think that maybe, just maybe…I can do this.

Why the change in mentality? Did you not think you could do it before?

Well, let me be frank. When you are off the back of a bike race with only 3 other guys for 170km and barely finish the stage within time limit–like I was on Stage 5–and THEN have 2 of your 3 compatriots drop out of the race the next day… Mentally, you begin to question what the hell you are doing here in the first place.

My mindset hasnt CHANGED per se, it has just evolved. Why?

Today was easy. EASY I tell you! Note: I still rode my bike for 5 hours and burned 3500 calories…but at this level, that is easy.

Today was the day that the break went at the drop of the flag and contained only four riders, all of which were very far back on general classification.

Today was the day that for almost 120km I had conversations with people, could laugh, could eat…

Today was stress free. And I LOVED it. Man, did I need today. I soaked up every minute of it…

AND, to top it all off, no knee pain! Hallelujah!

Today, however, was not a perfect day. But to be honest, I’m not too bothered.

As things began to wind up in the latter half of the race, my legs were feeling good, my head was clear and I was ready to be up in the front to help Greg with the finish, or go for it myself if need be. The kms flew by and over the radio Rik kept reminding us of a potential cross-wind section we needed to be alert for. As we geared up for it, the racing went from relaxed to nervous quite quickly–other teams clearly recieving the same orders to be up front from their respective team directors.

The road was undulating, like always, but today I had no problems. Today I was back to my old self, I felt brand new. As we neared the right turn where these crosswinds were supposed to be waiting to split our lovely peloton to bits, I was comfortably at the front, the end-of-race adrenaline kicking in.

The road surface was terrible, little holes everywhere. As soon as I thought, ‘this would be a terrible time to puncture,’ I looked down at my front wheel and sure enough…it was flat. Now, mind you, we only have 30km to go at this moment in time and are going downhill at somewhere between Mach 9 and Mach 10. We had just turned right and in front of me I saw the black and blue of Sky, Garmin, and Quickstep attempting to blow the pack to pieces.

I was…quite literally…screwed. Even from where I was it would have been a big effort to stay up front. Now I had to go to the back, wait for the team car, change my wheel and get going again from a dead stop.

Yeah, no bueno.

Stop, I did. Change wheel, I also did… Only to get caught up behind a crash a couple hundred meters after I got going.

While I fought and fought through the cars to make it back to the second half of the split peloton, I realized it would be best of me to just pull the plug, and roll in with a small group of guys who were in a similar position as I was.

Save energy. I’ve learned that the more I can save, the better I will be, and the longer I will make it through this race.

While I never like to get dropped, and would have loved to tear it up at the front today, I have to be happy with the fact that my legs are finally feeling good and that tomorrow is another day.

Peace and love.

-tp

After yesterday’s brutal day, my morale was actually surprisingly high. I had proved something to myself, and I had toughed out the two most difficult stages in this first week of La Vuelta

This morning, my morale stayed high as the race profile seemed to suggest that it wasn’t too hard until the final climb at 30km to go…where there would be yet another chance to ride in ‘easy’ with my grupetto brothers.

The goal for the day was to put someone in the breakaway. I was told to take it easy…as easy as one can take a grand tour stage.

And so, 10km into the race, I attacked…naturally! I saw an opportunity and I went for it. Must just be how I am wired or something. I found myself in a group of 4 containing a good friend of mine, Leigh Howard of HTC. We desperately tried to get away, and made some nice headway, reaching a gap of about 50 seconds at one point. Surely, I thought, they are going to let us go.

The rest of my thoughts ranged from ‘Taylor, you were supposed to take it easy what the hell are you doing’ to ‘F**k yeah! You’re going to be in a breakaway in the Vuelta! Go go go!’

And then 10km later Rik came on the radio.

‘Andalucia and Cofidis are riding hard at the front to bring you back.’

Both teams had missed the break and were now bringing us back so that they could then launch one of their riders.

When I heard this I knew our chances were over, but at the time, the four of us had began climbing a 2.5km climb-that-isn’t-a-climb. Shit, you need to keep the speed up otherwise you are gonna get caught and go straight out the back of the peloton! Already gassed from trying to get AWAY from the pack, I was now preparing to fight in order just to maintain contact.

Some days, pretty much every day here at the Vuelta, I really wish I didn’t weigh 82 kg. Thanks for the big bones and dense muscles Dad…

I dug deep, and put my head down as the group surged by, riders flying off the front. I was in pain but I had to hold on.

Hold on I did, just barely. With the help of a couple big pushes from Manuel Quiziato and Karsten Kroon, I survived and promptly spent the next 50km at the back just hanging on for dear life. The stage was supposed to be ‘flat’ but was most definitely not.

Guess I should know that by now. Excuse my naivety!

The break finally got established with Martin Kohler and 3 other guys. Cruise control set in and the rest of the race passed by, slowly, with that same dull pain constantly reminding me that what I am doing is not comfortable.

As we neared the final climb, the pace quickened and I did my part to get bottles and make sure Greg and Santambrogio were safe in the front. As we hit the base of the climb I pulled the plug and labored up it with most of my mates from yesterday.

When we rolled into the finish I made sure that I wasn’t the first one of the group across the line. I learned my lesson yesterday!

Another day in the books, plagued a little bit by a sore knee. Icing it now and hoping all will be ok!

Ta-Ta.

-tp

What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger…? That could have been my motto today, as I felt close to the light a few times.

After an incredibly boring 37 km of neutral, yes you read that correctly, 37 km, the race was off once again. Today we were to cover 187km, and according to various sources, the stage was much much harder than it appeared on paper.

Great.

After yesterday I could’ve used a nice day in bed, but I geared up like everyone else and got ready for the pain.

14km into the stage I was out the back. Again. It’s not that I felt terrible, I just didn’t have the mojo to hold on to the pack as attacks flew up the road left and right. It didn’t help that we were already climbing either. Pathetic really, but what can you do? Hang on for dear life.

This time, however, I was not alone, and this made me…I don’t want to say ‘happy’ because there was no happiness in the last 6 hours…I was, however, relieved in a way that I wouldn’t be alone for the next 173km. Hey, maybe we would make it back as the road leveled off…

Six of us fought through the cars, each taking turns at the front of our mini ‘breakaway-off-the-back’. We had hope that the pack would let a real breakaway go, and sit up, allowing us to return.

No break went. All I kept hearing over the radio was ‘pack is all together’.

We kept plugging away, losing ground fast. It was 6 against 180…those are not great odds. We fought and fought but to no avail. The first climb, that wasn’t even a categorized climb, finally relented and we began to descend down towards the first real climb of the day, which 120km later would also serve as the final climb of the day.

My head was all over the place.

Well, this will be your last stage Taylor, no way you’re making it back now. No, you have 5 other guys with you, if you keep it up, for the next 120km, you might just make it. But can I put myself through that? Yes, why couldn’t you? Man up!

The worst part of riding the last climb in the beginning of the race is that they have km markers starting at 10 and going all the way down to the red flag, which is 1km to go. It was the worst tease; knowing you have somewhere around 3 hours of pain and suffering until you would be passing through here again. And even if you do make it, will you have done enough to be within time cut?

Don’t think about that, just ride.

We were 70 or so km into the stage after passing the finish for the first time, with around 115km to go, and I wasn’t in a good place. SO MUCH CLIMBING. We would descend off of one ridge just to hit the bottom of a valley and then have to ride all the way up to the top of the other side. My sources were very right, this was a hard, hard stage.

And then 6, became 4. A Saxo Bank rider and a Skil Shimano rider began to distance themselves from the rest of us on yet another climb-that-wasn’t-a-climb. They didn’t attack, they simply just rode away, and were gone. So we were left with 4. Christensen from Saxo Bank, Vogondy from Cofidis, Tschopp from our team, and myself.

The next kms were a blur. My mind wandered from counting down the kilometers, to losing hope completely, to reminding myself to eat, to regaining hope, to feeling better on the bike, to feeling worse. I had a song stuck in my head; ‘I Gave You All’ by Mumford and Sons.

I questioned why I did this sport, I remembered what it felt like to win and what I have had to go through in the past to be strong enough for that big result. In reality, I had been in the position I was in today already many times before, in a completely different scenario, in a different country, in a different race. Cycling is about suffering, and you have to push your body further than it is willing to go. In the moment, I hated myself for what I was doing to my body although secretly I knew what I was doing was necessary if I wished to be better. I tried to trick myself into thinking that, hey, if there are 100km to go, then there are really 85km until the final climb which is two hours or so, and then 15km, and by the time you get there you will smell the finish so you’ll feel good… I will say, It did help…a bit.

Worst of all is that we were riding on highways for a fair amount of time in the stage. 4 guys, suffering, on a wide open highway. Traffic jam in front, traffic jam behind, all for us. I felt like apologizing to people as we went past…but I didn’t.

As we approached the feed zone, a small piece of me desperately wanted to get off my bike and quit. When I say a small part, I mean most of my body. I was done, but I couldn’t quit. They can time cut me, they can rip my number off, but unless I’m in real danger of injuring myself, I’m not gonna quit.

The kms clicked down. Slowly.

Hours went by.

Just the dull pain of my legs remained a constant reminder that I was alive and not lost in a dream.

And the heat! I haven’t even mentioned it…must be getting acclimatized or something.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, we passed the 25km to go sign. And then the 20km to go sign.

And then we were on the final climb. John Lelangue was in the car behind and informed us that we were cutting it close on the time cut, and would have to really give it on this last climb if we wanted to make it. I set the tempo, actually beginning to feel relatively OK. The climb was something like 8km and I made sure I didn’t go over my threshold. All of the sudden, about 4km into the climb, we rounded a bend and off in the distance, a couple turns ahead, we could see cars! And then we saw riders! The grupetto!!!

The tiny bit of hope I had kept all day was now amplifying exponentially with every meter we got closer to that lovely grupetto. You see, there are times when the grupetto finishes after time cut, but is allowed to continue due to it’s size. Usually, and I say USUALLY, if you are in a grupetto, you will be safe. As I cruised past the last of the cars, relief set in. I, along with my three dropped comrades, could finally breathe a sigh of relief. We patted each other on the back, and settled in.

We crested the top, and descended down to the finish. The last km of the race was straight up hill, featuring a nice section at around 25%. I was so done and dusted, so over the race, I couldn’t get it over with fast enough. I followed a friend of mine, Martijn Keizer, who I believe had similar thoughts, and we didn’t sprint up it, but we definitely went faster than ‘normal’. Honestly, I had a taste of the finish and I wanted to be done so fast that I disobeyed the cardinal rule of the grupetto.

Never attack the grupetto. Never.

While it wasn’t like I was straight up attacking my fellow grupetto mates, I had inadvertently dropped them in the last km. I attempted to slow in the final 100m, almost coming to a stand-still but, the finish, it was RIGHT THERE. I had been fighting so hard, for so long…all day in fact. I just couldn’t help myself.

For disobeying the cardinal rule, and pissing some of my favorite riders off, I’m deeply sorry.

Ahh, life of a neo-pro!

I made it, and at the end of the day that is all that matters. I’m enjoying a nice ice bath now…hope you have enjoyed the recap of today’s sufferfest.

One day at a time.

Bye for now…

-tp

10km into today’s stage I was getting dropped. I had nothing… In an internal dialogue in my head I began questioning myself, my legs, my head. What was wrong? Even upon waking this morning I could tell I wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I was quiet, and just generally down. As the gap between myself and the pack grew I tried to settle in to a good rhythm. Was I lacking fitness? Well, no. I had just won the prologue at Eneco and finished 4th overall. Granted, Eneco is an entirely different race than the Vuelta, but still, good fitness is good fitness. Was I tired, still not fully recovered from the efforts I put out there? Maybe. I had 5 days in between, one of those days ruined by a stomach bug, the other by a crash. Was it the heat? Could be.

All I knew is I wasn’t my usual self today. But I fight. And that is what I did.

I made it back to the pack as the breakaway was let go and the pace eased up. There still remained about 15km of climbing however and even when I got there, I continued to yoyo. I would have moments where I felt fine, and then all of the sudden I couldn’t do it anymore. My legs and mind would quit on me. And we weren’t even going that fast.

I made it to the top and got up to the front for the dangerous descent.

All fine, I refueled, tried to tell myself I would bounce back. But soon enough, the road pitched up again and I found myself in the same place as before…going backwards…faster than I would like. I briefly lost contact, by myself, but then I made it back.

Most of the rest of the stage cruised by on a big open highway. Again, I refueled and told myself I would come around. As we hit a few rollers before the penultimate climb of the day I began to yoyo once more, but this time I wasn’t the only one. Cavendish had been dropped. This provided a bit of relief as I figured I would be ok, if/when I got dropped since he was already out the back.

Then, at possibly the worst possible moment, I got a flat–just at the base of the penultimate climb. I changed it and attempted to regain contact but made sure to stay within myself. And Cav was behind me…I would be ok, right?

As I was settling into my rhythm, the pack 200m in front of me–but pulling away, Rik came on the radio: ‘Cavendish has abandoned, Cavendish has abandoned.’

Oh shit.

I minimized the damage from myself to the peloton as I crested the top and took a thrilling ride through the caravan on the descent. I could still see them, I might not catch them, but they were there.

The final climb was a grueling 20+km up to Sierra Nevada.

I came off the descent still behind the peloton, but close enough that I knew it was plausible for me to catch the grupetto once it formed. Yet again, I tried to find my rhythm, sitting at some puzzlingly low numbers, but holding them, which was all that mattered. As the km clicked by, slowly, I began to lose faith. I was alone. I had John Lelangue in the car behind me, giving me time splits to the grupetto…but I couldn’t SEE them. I began to get lost in thought, imagining my solo ride all the way up to the top, unsure of whether I’d make the time cut. I was so lost I hadn’t noticed the fact that I was in the cars again, and then before I knew it, there it was. The grupetto.

I made my way up to it one pedal stroke at a time, and joined my slow-climbing compatriots in their struggle to the top of Sierra Nevada.

I definitely still struggled, but I wasn’t alone and finished with them 24 minutes down. Very much within time cut.

I am now attempting to refuel my body for another day of torture tomorrow.

Bye for now.