taylorphinney

Today my body let me know that enough, was enough.

After a terrible sleep last night I woke up lacking a fair amount of confidence going into today’s stage. I remember back after my rebound from stages 4, and 5, when I knew my legs had come around and I was almost fearless, no matter what the stage profile. Today, the fear had consumed me. Ever since the rest day after what was a great effort in the TT, I had lost my rhythm and my mojo.

The past two days proved really difficult, an overwhelming sense of emptiness had taken ahold of my mind and body two days in a row. The fear of more emptiness made lining up this morning even more daunting.

I thought about not even starting today. I had not gotten a good night’s sleep and I felt that I was already on another downward curve in the way my legs were reacting to the racing. The plan going into this race for me was to just make it to the TT on Stage 10, and then see what came about from there. I questioned myself, and questioned myself some more until I came to one conclusion.

I had to at least try, I couldn’t just pull the plug like that. I had to start. I had to respect my team, my staff, and this race by starting… What would come of it who knows, but at I at least had to put myself out there.

From the get-go, it was not pretty. As we geared up in the neutral, the nervousness in the pack was high. Like many other stages here, as soon as the flag dropped, we started to climb. Let’s just say that if climbing in itself isn’t a strong suit of mine, climbing from the gun–cold turkey–is REALLY far from ‘up my alley’.

I prepared for the worst, and the worst came. Only a handful of kilometers into the stage I found myself at the back, for the umpteenth time in this Vuelta. But this time, when I drifted back, I couldn’t stop drifting. The pack slowly surged away, as I was left dangling, and soon enough…alone. I plummeted through the caravan, trying to hold my own rhythm but failing, falling further and further back.

And then I was almost completely alone. Just my team car and broom wagon behind me. Not to mention the poor people who chose the wrong road on the wrong day and were now stuck behind a suffering American hogging up the whole road, losing distance to the real bike race going on further and further away.

I crested the first climb, with John Lelangue and Max Sciandri in the car behind encouraging me. I was rather embarrassed of my predicament and kept my head down, focusing more on the pedals, and less on the fact that I was dead last and losing precious ground.

Second climb done. The race nowhere to be seen. Alright, this is getting ridiculous. I was holding up a whole host of cars behind and had absolutely no hope of regaining contact with any sort of grupetto.

My race was over, but I still had another climb to get over. Earlier in the day, when I decided to start–to at least try–I made a commitment to myself which entailed making it to the feed zone 81km into the stage. If I got there, and I was so far back there was no chance, none whatsoever, then I would step off my bike. But only then.

So two climbs down, one 10km climb to go.

My body was hating me. I had been giving everything for about an hour and a half now, so focused on keeping the speed up I had forgotten to eat or drink anything. I started climbing again and felt a serious bonk coming on. The kind of bonk that makes your head spin, that completely numbs your body to any feeling–in a bad way. I rushed to eat the small cakes I had in my pockets and chugged my 1 bottle I had started with (to save weight).

Still embarrassed at the fact that I had 10 cars behind me, just for me, I tried not to think about them and just focused on getting back into a rhythm. There were fans who still lined the course, most of whom appeared quite surprised by my sudden appearance so far behind the real action. They would, however, cheer for me, which I was both grateful for and again–embarrassed by.

Alright, enough delving into the pathetic two and half hours of solo bike racing I endured today. I made it to the feed zone eventually, far enough behind that I was forced to stop. In some races they cut your numbers off when you abandon. This was one thing I had been dreading all day, but luckily for me they just took the transponder on my fork. My numbers remain intact. Upon getting in the car, I immediately fell asleep…I was completely knackered.

In the final kilometers of my 2011 Vuelta D’España, I had time to ponder. Actually, I had time to ponder all day now that I think of it.

I have to be happy with the time I have had here. Sure I suffered, I suffered a lot, but I accomplished my original goal which was to make it to the stage 10 TT. And I got 5th in said TT, finishing 6 seconds from my idol, Fabian Cancellara. And then I made it two days after that, only having to call it quits today, day 13.

I am still young, sure there are guys like Peter Sagan (who is my same age and winning stages here), but I have to respect my own body, my own limits. I have to develop myself in time and focus on my next goal. I have already surpassed anything I have ever done before in these past two weeks, and now I can go into the World Championships (assuming I have a spot!) a different rider having completely these 12 and a half Vuelta stages.

I have to apologize to all of you who have followed me so closely on Twitter and on this blog. I received so much support from you all these past 13 days that I really wish I could finish just for all of you. You have helped me more than you know with your kind words and encouragement. For that I can’t thank you enough.

I have to thank my team, the riders and the staff, for understanding and supporting me through this race. Quite obviously, I couldn’t have done any of it without them.

I will be hanging around the race for another day or so, seeing as how it is a bit tricky to get out of here, and will keep the blogs coming.

Thanks again, for all the love, I wish I could give it right back.

-tp

Stage 12… Damn! That is a lot of bike racing, with still many more days to go.

Since I am equally as tired from writing about all of my daily suffering as you are from reading about it, I figured today I would give a shortened version of the stage…and some thoughts that went through my head as the Spanish countryside flew by around me.

Today was another ‘supposed to be flat’ day that wasn’t. I have learned by now never to expect ‘easy’ or ‘flat’ and so I knew what was coming.

I suffered early, and often. A break went, but the road never stopped rolling. I briefly felt better as I got into a rhythm on the first climb…but then Stuart O’Grady got to the front and put me right back in the pain cave. I then almost got dropped on the next ‘climb-that-was-not-a-climb’, and continued to hold on over the second (and last) categorized climb.

As we geared up for the last rollers coming into the sprint I began to feel a bit better, getting up to the front and making sure Greg was taken care of. As we hit the last roller I was cooked, got dropped and rolled in with a grupetto that included my hombre Andrew Talansky who had been working hard at the front for the last half of the stage.

Another day, another…dollar? That saying doesn’t really apply here but I’ll leave it anyways. It sounds good, so…

I actually think a lot about this blog when we are racing, to pass the time… I think about what the title will be, what I will write, how I want to come across. Today I decided I was tired of delving into details about how bad my legs feel, and instead I though I would share some random tidbits. So here you go:

Pablo Lastras.
Pablo is, quite literally, the nicest professional bike rider I have ever raced with. If he needs to get by you he asks nicely and then when you move out of his way–he thanks you as if you have just saved his first-born child from the jaws of a black bear. Also, he encourages me. I have said hello to him once, in passing, but other than that we haven’t spoken…yet, when I’m going backwards on a climb, he will encourage me, saying things like ‘come on Taylor’, or ‘you can do it, Taylor’. Pablo is a man who leads by example, and I’m incredibly honored to be racing here with him. Some would say that assholes finish first, especially in this sport… Pablo is here, not to tell you, but to show you that even nice guys can win bike races, and win them in style. You’re the man Pablo!

My musette bag.
I grabbed a musette full of food and bottles from Fox our soigneur today, put it over my head, and replaced my bottles with new ones…but then I just left it slung over my shoulder. I was so tired I had no desire to take any food out, I had no desire to throw it away, I just kept it there. For about 10km…
Whatever.

Blasting Kohler.
I inadvertently launched a snot rocket directly into the face of my poor poor teammate Martin Kohler today. I apologized.

The front.
I desperately wanted to ask if I could ride the front late in the stage today…but remembered the 4500m of climbing we have tomorrow and decided yeahhh, maybe not.

Peter Sagan.
Wow, the guy is incredible. Not only is he super nice, but he is my age, doing what he is doing… Really really impressive. He makes me feel like a pansy on a daily basis. C’est la vie! Big congrats to him and his team today.

Contador’s shirt and the Latino vs Anglo Saxon ‘war’.
Earlier this morning I tweeted a picture of Contador, in an interview, speaking about his ‘issues’…with a shirt that said ‘DIRTY’ in capital letters on it. I intended this picture to be a joke because let’s be honest–it was not the BEST wardrobe choice–but as per usual, some people thought I was making a statement to further THEIR belief that there is a separation in the pro peloton when it comes to Latinos vs Anglo-Saxons. Manuel Quinziato and I shared a good laugh about this. People love to start drama!

Beauty.
This area that we are racing in–I believe it is called Galicia–is absolutely gorgeous. Besides the pain I feel constantly when I’m on my bike, I really enjoy it.

Grilled cheese.
I just arrived back to the hotel to grilled cheese sandwiches which almost made me jump for joy. Am snarfing down a couple now… These things remind me of my amazing mother who would make me grilled cheese sambos all the time when I was younger. Love you and miss you mom!! I’ll be home soon

Tomorrow.
Will be very difficult…I am hoping to make it out alive, and within time cut.

All for now.

Ta-Ta!

-tp

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