It was two weeks ago I broke my wrist in a crash. On Monday after the crash, I got fitted in my waterproof cast. It was waterproof only in the fact that it could get wet.
On Thursday I refereed a high school boys varsity district championship match at Brentsville High School. When I returned home and showered I started to get the chills. The night was awful. I was running a high fever and the pain in my hand was almost unbearable.
On Friday I went back to Dr. Hanna who cut off the cast fearing infection in the wound in my hand which was under the cast. I would deal with the fever until Wednesday. I was drained once the fever broke. I was also on antibiotics to kill the infection if it was biological.
In hindsight, the pain was probably caused by sweat inside the cast from the game which seeped into the open wound. It was very painful and probably unrelated to the fever.
Yesterday, Friday, I returned to the doctor with the expectation of being recast. Instead, Dr. Hanna looked at the wound on my hand and examined my wrist. He was reluctant to cast over the still-open wound on my hand and decided to leave my wrist in a removable splint so that the wound will continue to heal.
The next course of action is an X-ray in another week and then, “if things look good,” remain in the splint for six weeks.
Of course, this allowed me the opportunity to ride with The Bike Lane group in Reston. But I wasn’t ever real comfortable. I normally enjoy riding in the pack but not today. One wrong move by another rider and I could go down. And if I went down on the wrist it could break all the way through. So I ended up keeping contact but a safe distance.
The other concession I made was to stay in the saddle for the entire 28-mile ride. I envied my friends as they popped out of the saddle for an extra burst on the steep climbs. But I did not want to stand and put weight on my wrist. I may have given up a little on the climbs and I didn’t bomb the descents but it was nice to ride again. Ultimately, I am hopeful that forcing myself to stay in the saddle, one gets out because it’s easier, I will become a stronger rider.
Seven point six miles is the distance up the Mount Washington Auto Road. It is also the distance that I rode today, three days after my bike crash which resulted in a broken wrist.
Perhaps there is some symbolism here. Maybe it’s a “sign” but I’m not sure I believe in signs. I don’t even know how to spell symbolism.
I crashed three days ago more figuratively than literally. A broken wrist and six weeks off the bike off would kill my fitness and preparation for the Mount Washington Climb. Information in the emergency room was hard to come by. I was told simply what I pretty much knew – I broke my wrist.
There was a report slipped in with my X-rays but I dropped those at my former* orthopedic surgeon’s office on Friday without reading it. I should have read it.
That hurt
Today was the day to be fitted for a cast. I was not nearly as depressed going into today as I was on Friday. On Friday I believed all my riding had ended. But over the weekend I decided I could, at a minimum, ride a trainer for the next six weeks although I would miss the long training rides with Potomac Pedalers. I would have to be careful and always remain seated because I couldn’t stand and put weight on my wrist.
Short Cast
But doing training work while seated would be better training than out of the saddle. This may turn out okay after all. Don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather not have a broken wrist but I will make the best of it.
Here is my report: Faint transverse radiolucent line in the distal epiphysis of the radius along the lateral margin suggests undisplaced fracture. The doctor went with a short cast over the forearm, waterproof (cool!), and for four weeks not six, at my urging. I’ll have another X-ray in four weeks and will probably go to hard brace for two weeks after that.
I’m going to make 7.6 miles.
*I wrote about my former orthopedic surgeon. Here’s why.
Rather than go straight to the E.R. on Friday I thought of my surgeon who has X-ray equipment in his office. Thinking I would cut out the middledoc, I went to his office and asked if he could see me. I was told he couldn’t which was partially expected.
Being a foot and knee patient since 1991, I was hoping not to be treated as some walk-in but with some deference to my history there. The receptionist told me to wait and she would check. She checked, presumably with the doctor but who knows? Come back to see us after the E.R.
In the E.R. a nurse asked if I had an orthopedic surgeon. Almost without listening to my answer (yes) she then offered her opinion, “the only thing I would suggest is not to go to [fill in former doctor’s name here].” I told her that was my doctor but I would respect her opinion.
After two hours in the E.R. (not bad for an E.R. visit) I left with my X-rays and drove to Dr. Former’s office. When I tried to make an appointment for Monday I was told the earliest would be Thursday. Frustrated and hurting, I left my X-rays at the office and left.
Potomac Hospital had an orthopedic doctor, Joseph Hannah, on duty so I found his number and called the office. They would work me in on Monday.
Monday came and I went to Dr. Former’s office to pick up my X-ray. They wanted to know if I had made an appointment to pick up my X-rays. Arrrg. Fifteen minutes later I was out of there to see Dr. Hannah. And he’s good.
I am bummed right now. Everything I have done since July 12, 2008, was to prepare myself for Newton’s Revenge* on July 11, 2009. A 42-mile Bike to Work Day ride may have ended that today when I crashed and broke at least my wrist. Even if the cast is off in time my fitness will be shot.
I made it up the “Rockpile” last year, albeit badly, and Mary Power, the Mount Washington Auto Road Events Director told me it gets in your blood. And it does.
I started walking the 12 floors each morning to my office rather than riding the elevator. I was committed to dropping 12 pounds to a more favorable climbing weight of 160. And I was down to 164 – the lowest of my adult life.
Broken Wrist
I hadn’t yet made the changes to the front ring but was planning to drop it to a serious climbing gear of 24 teeth. I bought a set of lighter wheels perfect for climbing. Last year I was one of the few riders who rode the race in a standard factory setup with no gear modifications. This year was going to be different. It had to be different.
I started a training program designed to increase my power. And after the first week of workouts, it may have been working. I noticed that this morning I averaged 20 mph to Occoquan over 6.5 miles. I wondered if I was already getting a benefit.
In the past three weekends, I rode the Blue Ridge Ramble, Blue Knob Ski Resort, and a classic ride from Myersville, Md. to Pennsylvania and back, Happy Happy Pain Pain. I was feeling good.
And I was feeling great today.
Road bikes are designed for the road. And roads are usually straight with gradual curves and grades, Mount Washington being an exception. Not so much these bike paths. Unfortunately, bike paths are often squeezed into spaces where roads don’t fit. They fly up and over existing roadways or tunnel under highways. They can have steeper than normal grades and sharper turns.
I had followed the Washington & Old Dominion (W&OD) trail to the Custis Trail. The Custis Trail goes through Rosslyn in Arlington Co. then descends down to the Mount Vernon Trail. At this point I was 38 miles into my Bike To Work Day ride, I came upon this descent and let the bike roll. I was going 20 mph when I saw a sharp turn to the left. Overnight rains had left a gooey mess of mud and moss mixed in with some sand and gravel.
I used my rear brake to slow the bike for the curve ahead but the tire slid in the muck. I released the brake and leaned and steered the bike through the turn. My momentum took the bike through the curve and the wheels slipped out from under me.
I hit the asphalt real hard and went sliding across it until I came to a stop. I could feel road rash on my left thigh and could see it on my leg. One thing to be thankful for: shaved legs. Without hair ripping out more skin, the damage to my leg was relatively minor in comparison to the rest of my body.
I unclipped and saw the blood on my hand and could feel that my wrist hurt. A couple of riders came by and asked if I was hurt. I told them I was. They kept going.
I brushed myself off, poured water on my hand and legs to get most of the dirt off, then rode four more miles to work. More than half the time I held my arm like a broken wing and rode with one hand. It hurt to put the injured hand on the handlebars.
At work, I got some assistance in the Fitness Center in taking off my jersey and in cleaning up. I then went to my office (via elevator — this was the first day I didn’t take the stairs). I worked for about 15 minutes before deciding the emergency room visit was necessary.
Now I face the question of what’s next. Six weeks in a cast will take me to June 30. If I am off the bike until then there is no way I will have the fitness or climbing legs to make Mount Washington. I am really bummed right now.
Monday I go for a hard cast. I haven’t been told how serious the break is or if there is more than one. If I can ride a trainer during this time it won’t be the same as being on the road but there’s still a chance. My only chance now is to be able to ride a trainer…
Check out the elevation chart. There are no flats on this ride.
I parked in East Freedom, Blair Co., at the elementary school. It started out sunny and seemingly warmer than it was. I wore a jersey and arm warmers. I soon realized it was cooler than I thought with temperatures never climbing more than the mid-50s. I slipped on a jacket that was in my back pocket.
My route took me down the valley and around the base of Blue Knob. Blue Knob is both a State Park and ski resort. At 3,127 feet (953.1 meters) it is the second-highest peak in Pennsylvania, second only to Mount Davis in Somerset Co. (3,212 feet).
After 22.5 miles the climb began at Pavia. The Blair Bicycle Club listed the climb as almost five miles at 7%. They listed a 25% section which I did not find. But the distance was right and it was a nice climb. I think two cars passed me on the way up so “lightly traveled” might even be an understatement.
Blue Knob Ski Resort
It was a ghost town at the top if one building, a ski lodge, constitutes a town. If I needed a place to get more water or food and had counted on this, I would have been out of luck. Actually, I was counting on this but on this cool day, the two bottles on my bike were enough.
The descent from Blue Knob was a little scary. The first mile of the descent was steep and in horrible shape. There were many potholes and lots of loose gravel. The steepness necessitated riding the brakes but the gravel made it dangerous to use them.
The wind was blowing and it was cold — in the mid-40s, and I was still soaked with sweat from the climb. But after the first mile, the pavement improved. And once I reached Ski Gap Road it was a long straight 2-3% descent back down to Claysburg.
At Claysburg I had to return to East Freedom. But the road I was on, Bedford Street, was lightly traveled and in great shape. This would be a great place to live to ride. One can stay on the flat roads of the valley or head to the mountains.
And then the most surreal part of the ride. In East Freedom, I saw a man mowing his lawn. I first went by him then something said to turn around. I did and I caught his attention. I introduced myself and then told him “I used to live in this house.”
John Griffin immediately said “well you have to come in and see the house.” He proceeded to take me room by room while I was wondering “was this the house I lived in when I was three or was it the house next door?” But eventually, I figured out that it was the right house and gave him a little history to go along with what he gave me, namely, the house was built in 1910.
Afterward, it was a quick trip to Panera in Altoona for some refueling and lunch with a special cousin. This was an incredible day. It was a trip over a mountain and back in time.
Visiting Ashley in Ranson, West Virginia, I decided to head out for a ride along the basic route of the South Mountain Loop, a 37-mile route for hybrids or mountain bikes, which originates in Brunswick, Maryland. Only one problem presented itself: I rode the route just once six years ago and would attempt to ride it from memory. I did pretty well, only missing one turn which I would do differently.
The day was cold and windy. Winds were constant at 20-30 mph with higher gusts. Temperatures were in the mid-30s to start and only climbed to near 50º (10º C) by the end of the ride. Everywhere there was a headwind. I don’t know how this could be but it was.
Instead of starting in Brunswick, I started in Ranson and followed US 340. When I crossed the Shenandoah River just upriver from Harpers Ferry, I turned on Chestnut Hill Road. From 340, Chestnut Hill Road looks almost impossible to drive up and does look impossible to bike up. But on a bike is where magic happens.
I turned the corner and kept climbing higher and higher. The GPS showed 12% then 14% then 18%. When it “leveled” off to 4% I decided to turn around and go back to the route I had planned. I descended at 45 mph. I could have gone faster but there was a stop sign, heavy traffic, a guard rail, and the Potomac River at the bottom.
I followed US 340 into and out of Virginia and across the Potomac River into Maryland. I passed beautiful farmland to Burkittsville, the location of the horror movie, The Blair Witch Project. It’s a lovely little village and I can’t say I saw any witches. But who really knows for sure? They don’t all look like Elphaba.
Welcome to Burkittsville
Out of Burkittsville, I climbed a ridge road along South Mountain before being dropped back into the valley then climbing up Reno Monument Road. At the base of Reno Monument Road is a large, slightly unkempt house on the left. You know, the kind where a huge dog is lurking ready to attack. Outriding dogs can present their own adrenaline rush but I’m not going to out pedal a dog while going up a 20% hill.
My dogdar (that’s like radar to detect dogs) was on full alert mainly because when I rode this six years ago I was chased by a big dog at this house. Yes – you remember those things.
I was quietly pedaling, not shifting gears, and generally trying to avoid disturbing any creatures who may live there. And then I saw him. A huge dog but I’m not sure of his breed.
And he saw me. Or she saw me. I didn’t want to get close enough to check.
The dog came flying across the yard and I dismounted and started being really nice. There was no way I was going to flee and kick in the dog’s chase mentality. I was on the right side of the road and the dog was to the left. I hoped that he wouldn’t come across the road at me. I walked a little saying stupid things he couldn’t understand like “nice puppy.” This completely killed my average speed for the day too. I should have paused the Garmin.
My break came when just as the dog was coming out of his yard a car came down the hill and almost hit it. Brakes squealed, the driver stopped and I used the car as a shield to sneak away.
Reno Hill kicked up to 20% but it was a relatively short climb. At the summit, there are some Civil War markers and a “Private Road” sign which invited me to ride.
Burkittsville, Md.
I turned left and was riding the very summit of South Mountain. A one-lane paved road with no traffic was great. I wondered where the road would end. I thought it was a U.S. Park Service one-lane road which perhaps made a loop. The grade was great for climbing. A lot of 12% with even higher numbers as well. After two miles I came to a dead end. Some government installation. Some secret government installation. I smiled for the cameras and turned around.
Back to the main road, I descended into the valley on the east side of the mountain. I missed the road that would have taken me to Chestnut Ridge and down to Harpers Ferry. But Rte 67 has a very wide shoulder and was a nice run into Brunswick.
As I approached Brunswick I saw the last road on the right and thought it would be fun to take it to Harpers Ferry if that’s where it went. It didn’t. It was a heck of a climb and ultimately I realized I was climbing for no reason that the road would not cross the mountain. I was right. I made a loop right back to Rte 67. Bonus miles.
I was not prepared for the distance with the climbing on this day. Or the wind. I climbed almost 6,000 vertical feet. Other than a small packet of Sport Beans (by Jelly Belly), I had no food and I ran out of water. I bonked and the thought of climbing back out of the river valley was too much. I pulled out my cell phone but no one answered my distress call.
My emergency funds consisted of two dollars in my saddlebag and were used to purchase a Snickers bar at the Exxon Station at the base of Harpers Ferry Road. Hunger solved. I made the 2-mile climb up the US 340 past Harpers Ferry to the plateau with ease.
The stats don’t show the entire trip because I reset the Garmin nine miles into the ride so I rode close to 66 miles. It was a good day but very tiring.
Random, so I don’t have to put any thought into how I organize them
It is something I would definitely recommend for cycling fans but even for casual on-lookers it is pretty neat too
It’s very different from a typical sporting event where you pay money then watch your favorite athletes or teams perform for 2-3 hours in a game
About 2,000,000 people will watch the Tour at various vantage points — all for free.
Depending where you go, you get to wait for one or two hours to get to see the riders go past you once.
Best stage is a time trial where you get to see every rider individually
Or you may like a stage finish where there is sometimes chaos coming down the stretch for the win
Or you may like to be on a hill climb where they are going slower and you can see the pain in their faces
I worked with four different volunteer coordinators. Best at communication was Maura Noel in Santa Cruz
Most helpful was Susan Ryan in Santa Rosa. She emailed me a couple of times to make sure I had a place to stay
Maura and Susan both sent me my assignments well in advance
In Sacramento and San Jose, unless they were holding out primo spots for certain volunteers, when you checked in you were given the next assignment available to cover
The order for the prologue time trial was by draw except Levi Leipheimer, as defending champion, would go last. It’s not even that each round of 17 was drawn because in the last group of 17 were two Garmin riders.
I understand that each team got to choose who would ride last — usually their team leader but maybe their super time-trialist.
The final 12 riders went as follows: Kim Kirchen, Tom Boonen, George Hincapie, Tyler Hamilton, David Zabriskie, Lance Armstrong, Christian Vande Velde, Fabian Cancellera, Ivan Basso, Michael Rogers, Floyd Landis, Levi Lepiehiemer.
The largest cheer was for Lance but at this point they were all loud
But nothing like Heinz Field for the AFC Championship game when Troy Pololmalu intercepted the pass at the end of the game to send the Steelers to the Super Bowl
Hilton Garden Inn is becoming my favorite Hilton property. Their breakfast is better than Embassy Suites.
Hampton Inn’s soaps and Internet sucks although the Internet may be a location by location situation
I enjoyed the volunteers I met at every location. In Sacramento was Tamy Quiqley who came from Redding, Calif. to volunteer. She was the most fun to talk with.
In Sacramento we were given the start times so there was no guessing as to when the riders were coming.
“Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.” “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.” “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.” “Lance starts at 3:39 p.m.”
In Santa Rosa we had a couple who had race radio which was helpful. But being “on Calistoga Road” didn’t mean a lot to this Virginian.
In Santa Cruz the neighbors were great about coming out and mingling. One woman brought tea and offered up her house for bathrooms.
“Bonny Doon Road” meant nothing to me either but after a few minutes I talked to the residents like I knew exactly how far the riders were and the pain they would be suffering
Also in Santa Cruz, one brain-dead person decided she had to go to work and get her car out of the driveway and drive the course after the it was closed for the race. All the publicity and the door to door flyers for the people on the route and she “didn’t know there was a race” — how stupid.
The riders in Santa Cruz came in waves. In between, just as the crowd started cheering, came what appeared to be a college student, flying down the road on his bike. Don’t know where he came from.
And I don’t know where the California Highway Patrol (CHPS) motorcycle cop came from either but he was on that kid’s butt in about three seconds time. Don’t know if he got cited or just pulled off the course. I’m betting citation.
Just saw a recap of yesterday’s stage and saw my arm — MY ARM! — taking a picture of Francisco Mancebo cresting Sierra Road for King of the Mountain points
If I go again I would not go to the top of a mountain road but part way up it where the viewing was unobstructed
If you saw me then you’d see more than my arm
One goal I had was to see Phil Liggett and/or Paul Sherwin
I would have settled for Bob Roll
I thought briefly about heading over to Modesto for the finish after I ran down Sierra Road but I was soaked to the bone and wanted to get out of my wet clothes
I am more sore today than when I biked up Mount Washington or rode the Blue Ridge Extreme Century. Not sure if it was the walk up the road or the 3.5 mile run down.
It was cold and wet on the hill. No trees — just pasture. Cold. Wet. No porta johns led to creating my first ever urine bottle when I reached the car.
Biking IQs — Sacramento — 110. Decent day and people came in from all over to see cycling. This was an above-average knowledgeable crowd. Yet it was also the worst crowd. Some people tried to play frogger and cross the street between bikers.
One woman in Sacramento in her 60s knew more of the riders than I did. Or at least as much. I was very impressed. She said she was “Chris Boardman’s” mother although she wasn’t — they just shared the same name.
Santa Rosa — 115. Like Sacramento, people had to come in to downtown but the weather was so miserable that cyclists tended to show up more than the mildly curious.
Santa Cruz — 80 (my section). I was on a residential street where no one outside of Santa Cruz came. Most were very nice retirees.
Sierra Road, San Jose — 130. These were the Mensa bikers. Everyone on top of this pass was a cyclist, cyclist fan, or family of one of the riders.
A treat throughout the tour is to read the daily blog by Phil Gaimin on bicycling.com
Sorry to learn today that Scott Nydam crashed out of the Tour. I met his fiance at the top of Sierra Road yesterday. She was so cute writing his name in chalk at the top of the climb.
Flight time from Chicago O’Hare to Reagan National (DC): 1:20
Time spent on the plane not in the air: 2:10
Dinner Friday: In-N-Out Burger
Dinner Saturday: In-N-Out Burger
Dinner Sunday: In-N-Out Burger
Dinner Monday: In-N-Out Burger
Hey, if it’s good enough for Floyd’s training table, it’s good enough for me
There was no lunch any of those days as it was a big breakfast then out to the course until dinner time
I still believe Floyd did not dope
Two days in a row the Amgen email folks ruined a good Tivo veiwing of the Tour for me. While watching the recorded program and checking email up pops “Cavendish wins Stage 5.” Why not “Stage 5 Results?”
Rain came down, hard at times in San Jose. The boys have two mountain passes today on their way to Modesto. Have a safe trip!
My last day at the Amgen Tour. of California. I decided to spectate. I had a good time volunteering throughout the tour. In Sacramento, Santa Rosa, and especially Santa Cruz, I was the face of the Tour for many people and the face of cycling for these folks. The good people who came out in Sacramento and Santa Rosa were somewhat informed but still were inquisitive.
The folks who came out in Santa Cruz were mostly curious. My position in Santa Cruz was along a residential street and the only spectators, and there were a few, were locals who lived in the neighborhood. Most of them were retirees. I had to begin with Cycling 101. It was fun. My position on the course was necessary to keep people off a dangerous part of the course but it was a bad place to view the race.
After three days of being stuck in locations that were helpful to spectators but boring for me, I decided to head to the hill where I could simply spectate.
Sierra Road was the place. It immediately leaves the Silicon Valley and starts a climb. Sierra Road climbs from an elevation of 264 feet to 2041 feet over 3.6 miles. It has an average grade of 10%. Walking it I passed a number of walkers and a couple of cyclists.
Sierra Road, San Jose, Calif.
My thought while headed up the grade was “wow, this is really steep and this is really long.” Only after I returned did I look up the stats and discovered it’s half as long as Mount Washington, doesn’t reach 6,000 feet, isn’t nearly as steep (12% is, after all, 20% steeper than 10%), and actually has some flat and even downhill sections where the body can recover.*
Some cyclists walked. Others kept plodding along. A few cyclists came by with a pretty good pace and then a Liquigas rider came flying by. He left them in the dust (well, road mist). I know some people buy kits of their favorite teams but who owns the complete Liquigas kit other than a true rider? I figured Team Liquigas brought an extra rider or two and they are riding ahead of the peloton for their fitness. I don’t know who that was.
Once I reached the top the temperature dropped, the winds picked up, and the rain started. And it was cold. My estimate was it was in the mid 30s with a wind chill in the mid 20s. I had an umbrella and shared it with another guy.
Unlike Sacramento, Santa Rosa, and Santa Cruz, there weren’t any curious onlookers at the summit. Everyone there was a cyclist or cycling fan. I figured the people who were erecting signs for Steven Cozza (Garmin-Slipstream) were his parents. At the top were the parents of Scott Nydam (BMC) and his fiance. She was marking the pavement with his name in chalk although it was a losing battle against the rain. It’s neat being at the top and chatting with the families of the riders. Try that in France!
There were probably 100 of us at the top and, who knows, a few hundred more at various points on the way up. I had one time to get it right and decided to make my last view of the Tour from the King of the Mountains summit. If I had a second time I would pick a location about halfway up where I could see the entire course without my view blocked by the masses. But I don’t regret being at the summit.
We were cold. People were jumping up and down to keep warm and we cheered everyone who came across the summit. Mountain bike. Yeah! Walker. Yeah! Policeman. Yeah! Cheering kept us warm.
One cyclist recognized me from Sunday’s stage. “You were in Santa Rosa.” He thanked me for talking with him there then asked if he rode down 100 yards and came back up if he thought we would cheer for him. I assured him we would. The cyclist goes down 100 yards, turns around, and comes back. Yeahhh!
The police came through followed by a group of four riders followed closely by the peloton. Francisco Mancebo (Rock Racing) was first. Although we were only 8.1 miles from the start, and many riders were grouped, it was surprising to see some real stragglers. I had already started down when another rider came up. I first assumed it was a recreational rider — he was behind the team cars — but it may have been Alejandro Alberto Borrajo (Colavita-Sutter Home). He abandoned today.
The rain picked up and was really coming down. They were very big rain drops, almost hail. I was wet and cold and wasn’t looking forward to my trip down. My pants were weighted down with a camera, cell phone, wallet, and car keys. I could not run but run I did. I started slowly. I didn’t have running shoes — turf shoes that I probably ruined all the little nubbies. My gait was a half stride, because it was downhill and because I couldn’t really run or else my pants would fall down.
I carried the umbrella and fought the wind. It only turned inside out once. I made it down passing lots of people along the way and made it back to the car. Even with an umbrella, I was soaked. Again. But no longer cold. At the lower level, it was near 50° and with wearing two riding jackets I was sweating.
I opened the car, peeled off some of the wet clothes, but really had to go to the bathroom. I found an empty Diet Pepsi bottle and created my first “urine bottle.” The urgency was such that I could not wait.
I then reflected on four days of fun. The Amgen Tour of California is a great event. It will become a major American sport just like the Tour de France is (when soccer becomes as popular as American football) so you better plan to see it while you can still mingle with the parents and girlfriends of the riders, and even meet them at their trailer.
I would like to come back– maybe volunteer at one stage, but not four. Spectating is much more fun. Now if they offered me a position as traveling course marshal — we’ll talk. Especially if Lance comes back next year.
*Actually, with flat and downhill sections in the calculation, perhaps the actual climbing sections may have been 12% or so.
EDIT/EPILOGUE – This was my first urine bottle – ever. I had a headache and lots of body aches on this trip. With 20/20 hindsight, I likely had e.Coli at this time. A few weeks later, I had the same symptoms while officiating at the Jefferson Cup in Richmond, Va. Headaches and fevers continued until May when Dr. Semerjean at George Washington University Hospital finally diagnosed the e.Coli and was able to treat it. He also diagnosed cancer.
But it is likely that on this day, my cancer journey began.
Flooding, blowing rain, cold in Santa Cruz. I wasn’t looking forward to this day. It’s a long day standing out in raw conditions to watch a race go by.
Phil Gaimon wrote “Stage two started at 8:30 a.m., with a neutral, wet, cold, seven-mile ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. It was pretty scenic. That, and a pee break a couple hours later were the only pleasurable experiences of the day. As Floyd Landis told me during the pee break, ‘You have to take pleasure in the small things.’ So true, Floyd.” (Bicycling.com) There are two riders in the race I have personally met. Phil Gaimon (Jelly Belly) and Floyd Landis (Ouch). And here they were talking about taking pee breaks.
Phil is the only rider in the peloton who has beaten me in a race. I love writing that. Not many riders would be in a position to do a race like Mt.Washington. Most have other team and training commitments but Phil raced Mt.Washington before he joined Jelly Belly.
I met Floyd a couple of years ago in Arlington, Va. when a number of us who believed, and continue to believe, that he was innocent of the doping charges and rightfully won the Tour de France, met with him an evening before he was to discuss the tactics of the USADA with Congress.
I am tired. Each day began with a check-in around 8:00 then out to the course sometimes three hours (today it was 4) before the Tour would come through. Then it’s pack up and drive to the next location.
My location today was on the worse possible position to see the tour. On the downhill grade at the bottom of a steep hill. It’s also one of the most important positions for a marshal because the riders are going so fast it’s even more important to keep an eye on spectators to make sure none run out, even innocently to cross the street, while they are descending.
I was thrilled by the presence of two visitors. The first was Daniel Wenger. Daniel lives in Santa Cruz and we have corresponded over the years on genealogy. One of my lines is Wenger as is my watch. Daniel is my 5th cousin. I trace my family back to Lancaster Co., Pa. in the 18th century including a line named Landis. Hmmm.
Barry (L), Daniel Wenger (R)
Daniel, IMHO, is the preeminent Wenger researcher and I defer to him on Wenger research. He traced Floyd’s line as well and Floyd also descends from a Wenger line. But so far, we haven’t connected my Landis to his or his Wenger line to mine.
Then Nina Simon came by. Nina used to work in D.C. and moved to Santa Cruz a year ago. It was great to see her again as well.
Nina Simon, Barry Sherry
As for the race — it rained. Riders got soaked again beginning with their crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Lance crashed but got back on the bike. Levi led to the end but didn’t contest the win letting Thomas Peterson take the win at the end. Levi was interested in the overall lead.
Levi Leipheimer followed closely by Thomas Peterson
The people in our spot were great. It was a residential area and most seemed to be retirees. It was a nice block party. One woman came by to offer her bathroom for breaks. Later she brought us hot tea.
I have discovered that I am an encyclopedia of biking information compared to most volunteers. Once the questions start, most volunteers clam up and I then answer their questions.
The riders came by in waves. Levi and Peterson. Then a chase group of 18 led by Astana and Lance Armstrong. They were racing hard down the street. It would be another 90 seconds before another group of 20 went by. Then at 5′, eight more riders went. At 11′ another 15 riders came by and they appeared to be more relaxed. We saw some smiles and mostly light pedaling. At 17′ another large group came by. Smiles. Relaxed pedaling at the front and coasting, COASTING!, at the rear for this group. Just glad to get home safely.
At 24′ a few more came by then at 25′ we saw the last four riders come by. And we saw cheating, wink wink. These were Francesco Chicchi, Fabio Calabria, Anibal Andres Borrajo, and Phil Southerland. I noticed that they were riding side by side with their team cars. One grabbed onto his team car and hung on. Another drafted behind his team car. Some spectators asked me if it was legal. Uh-uh. But who’s watching? Those boys worked hard on a long, cold, rainy, hard stage and were glad to get home upright on their bikes.
(Note: I saw two of the four riders grab some assistance but could not tell you which two did and which two didn’t.)
Downtown Santa Cruz after the race
Despite the rain of the day, by the time the riders came by, the sun peaked out for an hour or so. It was a good day.
