Alison Tetrick

Do you remember the bulletin at school?  They would give you the weekly announcements… What the cafeteria was serving, and what games there were coming up…what club was looking for members.  I know, you get the point.

This is going to be my bulletin for the day.  Announcements of some upcoming events.  Get ready for some great riding.

On deck.

Gateway Cup.

More racing more racing! I will be heading to St. Louis, Missouri to participate at the Gateway Cup over Labor Day weekend with Team TIBCO.  I am excited for the opportunity to close out my season with those 4 days of racing.  I hope I can get some speed in my legs before I get there.  Stage racing is so much fun, but those 4 crits are going to be brutal!  Mission this week: need for speed.  Can you say, 105rpm?  Thanks, coach.

Interbike.

I will be going Interbike for Ritchey Logic.  I am excited.  Look for me at the Ritchey booth, and I will also be doing the iBikeTweetUp … Which should be fun, as well as racing at the USA Crit Finals there!  As if Vegas isn’t enough, I am settling in for a busy week at my first trip to Interbike… I hear it is exhausting, but it should be a good time to explore what is new in the cycling world. 

Best Buddies Challenge.

A good cause, a good ride, with good sponsors.  I can’t wait to ride from Carmel to Hertz Castle for the Best Buddies Challenge!  One of Team TIBCO’s sponsors, SVB, is a main sponsor for this great ride.  Not only is this ride going to be expertly supported, but will be so much fun to ride with our sponsors for a great reason, Best Buddies, a foundation that helps the intellectually disabled.  I told the guys at SVB that I have been training pretty hard for this, so I am ready to do my share of the work down the coast.  First person there, wins. 

Levi’s King Ridge Gran Fondo Ride

When I was in Italy, we followed the Gran Fondo paint on the roads for directions to a ride.  The pain read, GF, or something like that to show us routes that the Italians use for these events.  A Gran Fondo is a celebrated Italian tradition, and it is a long, mass start ride that although it isn’t a race, people are timed and try to complete efficiently.  Levi is bringing this event to California, and it is started in Santa Rosa.  I am will be doing the Gran Fondo, which is 103 miles… There are other distances as well, and maybe you can come check them out! Levi’s King Ridge Gran Fondo will be a great time to get riding and enjoy good food, company, and perhaps a little friendly competition.   

Oh, how could I forget my final annoucement…

Team TIBCO 2010

You got it.  I have signed with Team TIBCO for the 2010 season, officially!  I am so excited to be a part of this team again, and my position has moved up from “developmental” to know I am officially on the roster as a full-time rider.  I get to be one of the big girls now!  I am looking forward to the opportunity to race with this great group of women in the next season.  Linda Jackson is an inspiring person who is going to take this team to the next level.  I cannot wait to be an integral part of this team and our mission- domination!  We have an exciting year coming up, including racing domestically and internationally.  Time to get ready for a full year next year of racing.  It will either break me, or make me.  Love it.

You know that first time that you have to take that step.  That one step that leaves you feeling vulnerable.  That first time you tell someone that you love them.  The butterflies in your stomach, the choking of the words, and that sense that you are losing control.  You don’t know what the response will be, you don’t want to get rejected, you don’t want to catch a glimpse of uncertainty in their eyes.  You want to see belief.  You want to grasp a mutual feeling.  As you search for this, look for it, you don’t want to be mislead.  You don’t want to be told just what you want to hear, you want the truth.  But, there is still that moment.  That leap of faith moment, where you have to utter what you really feel.

No, I am not telling someone that I love them for this first time… However, as this year winds down, I am starting to plan my goals not only for this year, but for the next 2 years…the next 6 years and beyond.  My family knows what I want to do.  Now it is the time to start telling some other people.  My coach.  My team director.  Etc.

I got to discuss my goals, my true, real goals, with my coach, Charlie Livermore.  We got to talk about my last 6 weeks of racing, and then where we are now, and where we can go into the future.  Charlie is great because he doesn’t feed me what I want to hear, but instead he approaches the situation, the goals, realistically and tells me that I better get ready for the ride.  I have to buck up and get ready to work hard.  The things that have come easily for me, will still come easily, but I will need to take on a new approach.  Get ready for some hard work, some dedication, and some determination. 

I am not one to discuss my workouts here, but today was great.  It was great, not because it was easy or what I wanted to do.  If you know me, I don’t think high cadence is a party by any means… However, it was structure, it had a purpose, and it was what I was supposed to do.  I nailed it.  Kind of.  Actually, I started to fade towards the end.  But that makes it a good workout, right?  When you have to dig to find something to finish it.  Find anything within yourself to complete it.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. 

The three hours I spent with CL yesterday at EPTC not only proved that I can talk just about anyone’s ear off, but that I can take the next step towards my plan for the next couple of years.    The good news is that I do not have to do it by myself.  I am so blessed to have the support of God, family, friends, and a great coach. 

Hopefully I have more days like today, but I know that everyday won’t be like this.  I need to take this day, and file it.  File it for the days where I am prescribed to do something that I don’t want to do.  Something that is hard, and not fun.  I need to remember my goals, remember my plans, and buck up and do that hard stuff too. 

It is all a leap of faith, but it is nice to have a plan as well.

I am stubborn.  I get something in my head, and I go with it.  I have a one track mind at times, and all I see is that little goal or decision and I just press towards it.  Sometimes this is the reason for success, and sometimes it is the cause of failure.  I think that is what you call stubborn.  Stubbornness isn’t so bad, anyway.  It means I have resolve, and determination. Right?

I decided to do the University Road Race yesterday.  Why?  Because I wanted to.  I happen to love that race.  I love that race because it is one of the first races that I got to compete in last year and realize that I belonged in the Pro1/2 field.  Now, this year, I am doing it knowing that I belong and knowing that I may even have an advantage.  Besides, I missed my friends at the races.  If I can take on crazy Italians in the European peloton, surely I can take on the University Road Race (even if I have a cracked sternum).  I love it. 

The course is about 3 miles long.  You climb 1.5 miles, then descend 1.5 miles.  Pretty simple.  Up up up.  Down down down.  I like simple.  You don’t have to think much with a simple race of attrition, or so I thought.

Linda had warned me that I shouldn’t race.  I still can’t get out of the saddle because of my chest injury from the crash.  She said, “Ali, you have done this race before, you know it is really hard…” I said, “I know, it is completely brutal, and that’s why I am doing it!”  She said, “And, that’s why I love you..”  Ha.  What can I say?  I am a glutton for punishment.  The harder the race the better.

The race was fun.  It was great to get back to a NorCal race and see all the familiar faces.  I loved seeing the Dolce Vita women out there.  I love those girls.  I felt at home with them, and happy to be among friends and former teammates.  I took it upon myself to make the race hard.  Why not?  And hard we made it. 

Attacks, attacks, a selection occurred.  With a 15 lap race, the attacks occurred on lap 1.  Once the selection happened, which is likely on a course like this, of pure attrition, it slowed slightly.  People were relieved to make the selection.  Why let is slow down now?  I attacked the selection group of 7, and formed a break of 3.  Lap count, 11 to go.  Ha.  We worked the break.  We got 1 minute, then up to 2 minutes.  With 3 laps to go, I decided to attack the break.  The break was now 2.  2 people.  How do I win?  I started planning, devising, strategizing.  I need to learn to win.  Now, Alison, figure it out. 

I attacked, she countered.  Ouch.  I clawed back on.  That hurt.  The cat and mouse began.  I was riding, justtrying to look at her body language out of the corner of my eye.  My peripheal vision became extremly sensitive to jittery moves, heaving breathing, and any sign of a fight, of a attack, or whatever she would throw at me, maybe a grenade, maybe a kick.  You never know.  Trying to listen for shifting, looking for muscle twitches, looking for a sign. 

Olivia, my break mate, is the Irish TT National Champion, and she is heading back in a week for another run at her title.  She is a tremendous athlete anda friend.  I tried to take that out of sight, I tried to be cut throat.  I felt like my cat, stalking a prey.  1 lap to go.  I attacked, she countered.  Once again, I found myself clawing, scraping, scrambling back on.  That really hurt.  I went from feeling golden, feeling invincible, to feeling the pain zone in full force.  This is where the mistake happened.  I was in pain.  Literal, seeing red, pain.  That hill hurt.  I was so focused on my suffering, I forgot a very important fact.  She was hurting too.  I needed to counter her attack.  Honestly, it never crossed my mind.  Oops.  That just surprises me, because I know that, usually.  But, when you add a little suffering, a little heat, and a little pressure, your “book” knowledge is thrown out the window, and I went into survival mode.  Really?  Survival mode?  You don’t win bike races by surviving.  Final time up the hill, I knew I had to go before she did because she has a bigger jump then me.  I tried to attack on the descent.  Not once, but 3 times.  That wasn’t smart, as I was told by the motorcycle escort.  He said, “Doh!  Why is she doing that!”  This is coming from the nicest escort ever, as he did remind me to drink water as well throughout the race.  I attacked 2 more times, and she jumped for the line.  I was cooked.  O rode a great race, great girl, and I took 2nd.  I got an awesome Velo Promo tShirt though.  I love it. 

The best part of the race was the debriefing following the race with Brooke and LJ.  It was great to learn what I shoulda, coulda, woulda done.  I love them.  I have the strength, I have the legs, now on to the winning.  The more I need to learn, the more I am excited to work with my team in the upcoming months… Next time I am in that situation, hopefully I remember what to do, and I don’t block out the more painful option.  Don’t recover, counter attack.  It is funny how “logical” you get when in the red, yet to win, you must make a very “illogical” choice, and risk more pain, more suffering, but it may work.  Right?

More races on tap.  I will be heading to Missouri for Labor Day Weekend to race the Gateway Cup Series with Team TIBCO.  4 crits, 4 days.  Bring on the speed.

Podium Kisses

I’m back in Marin, and reflecting on the previous couple of weeks.  I feel so fortunate to have been able to race my bike in Europe.  I can’t believe it is all happening!  I didn’t just get to go to Europe and survive an epic tour, but I got to RACE it. 

Surviving and racing are two entirely different methods and abilities.  I am looking forward to more experiences like that.  Don’t get me wrong, there were times during the race, where the peloton is strung out for a k and all you can do is bury yourself into the wheel in front of you.  The desperation of finding a draft for survival is key.  Then, when the pain subsides, the peloton lets up for a moment, just a moment, you launch an attack of your own.  Why do this to myself? I discovered the pain is all the same, but there is something satisfactory when you initiate the pain, instead of sitting and waiting for someone else to make the critical move.  When you feel yourself wanting recovery, and relieved when it is available…that is the time. Go for it.  If you are hurting, someone else is as well.  The cat and mouse.  The attacks.  The accelerations.  The survival.  The game.  That is is bike racing. 

I can’t express how much I appreciate people like Rick Rockhold who helped sponsor me to be able to travel and to race.  Unbelievable support and friendship.  I feel so blessed for such an amazing support system.  People last year told me I could do it and I know they are still surprised I am here, and this year, I am racing for the US National Team and Team TIBCO? Crazy.

Although bike racing isn’t rocket science, and it doesn’t solve the world’s problems, I think we can take little life lessons from bike racing.

I learned that win, lose, or draw, aggressive riding gets you somewhere.  Although it may not get you a win, it may get you a podium kiss.  If the kiss isn’t your thing, it also gets you respect.  In life, it may not be aggressive riding but it may be just being decisive.  To make a plan, make a move, believe in it, believe in yourself, believe in your teammates (or colleagues).  Maybe we don’t do it for the glory, although the flowers and kisses are nice, we do it because we believe we can.  You don’t always get the champagne, but you get the satisfaction of trying.  Pushing your limits, and not holding back.  Somedays you may win, somedays you may fail, but you know that you are committed and strong.  And, that podium isn’t so bad either. 

The Group at a Beautiful Roman Bridge

There are the days that you need to relax, uncoil, and enjoy the scenery.  Bike racing isn’t about going hard all the time, it is about going hard at the right times.  I am very talented at riding my bike very slowly at times.  I will never lose this skill.  There are important days where it doesn’t matter your watts, your heartrate, your calorie expenditure, it just matters to enjoy the outdoors, enjoy the company, and enjoy life.  Work shouldn’t be all work all the time.  We are all allowed to play every now and again, and remember why we do what we do.  We love it. 

On our way to Pisa

All roads do NOT in fact lead to Rome.  Surely there is a paved road between Lucca and Pisa, but why take the simple route?  Why take the same path that everyone else does?  It is the adventure of life that keeps us going.  Each path that we chose in our lives takes us somewhere, but it isn’t always the destination that matters, it is the adventure that we achieve along the way.  We may not make it to Pisa, we may not always make the team, we may not always achieve all of our expectations, but we enjoy the ride just the same.  Dirt roads or not.  Typical methods or not.  We learn, we grow, we laugh and that is what matter the most.

Roadside Fuel

You are taught what you should do, and how you should prepare, but you also need to be prepared to live a little.  Maybe it isn’t always about the gels, the bars, and the proper protocol.  Maybe sometimes it is about enjoying the local flavor, stopping on the side of the road to “sample” the local “fuel”.  Peaches anyone?  We know what our bodies require for optimized performance, and I know my body appreciates the variety, and the ability to branch out.  Locally grown, organically grown, sometimes supporting the local farmers is not always a possibility.  However, when you get the luxury of that first juicy bite into a ripe plum that is warm from the summer sunshine, you remember to appreciate the simple things in life.  Slow down every now and again and just enjoy life’s simplest pleasures. 

Sunflower Fields

Water Stop on a Hot Day

When you are in a bind, or maybe just hot, humid weather, be trusting and fill up those bottles, cool off, and rely on your friends and family to support you.  Sometimes our saving grace isn’t where we expect it, and sometimes it is.  Keep your eyes open looking for that familiar comfort of a water spicket helps your recognize your support when you truly need it the most.  And, remember, you should be drinking at least one bottle per hour when riding.  Much more liquid may be necessary when the weather is hotter.  Sorry, had to lecture momentarily.

Enjoy the View

Finally, don’t forget to let others enjoy the view as well.  If we are constantly thinking about ourselves, we forget to let those around us relax a little as well, sit back, and to peruse the surroundings with us.  My Look 585 likes to look around every once in a while too. I try not to forget to let her enjoy what she does too.  Why should I be the only lucky one?  Remember to extend appreciation to those that help us in life.  It may be a friend, it may be a riding partner, it may be a dog, or it may be your faithful bicycle…appreciate them.  Thank them.  Sit back, and let them take the spotlight. 

No, bike racing isn’t rocket science, but it is sure fun.  We can take practical life lessons from just about anything, why not riding our bicycles.  I am glad to be home, and I am looking forward to returning.  Have a home base and a community of support is so nice to come back to…

Thank you for the ride..

On Monday, our last day in Lucca…We had the best idea, but good intentions don’t always end in the best result.  We decided that we were going to take a trip to Pisa, Italy.  Why not? It is only about 35k from Lucca.  Easy, right?  Everyone should see the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa.  We filled our pockets with the typical tourist accessories.  Cameras, sunblock, and the typical CrackBerry.  What an adventure.

We set off trustingly following our mechanic, who is our tour guide to Pisa.  Our brave and fearless leader takes us towards the beach, and then a couple of lefts… another left… another left…a dead end…and then a right.  And finally, a dirt road.  It took us that long to figure out he didn’t know where we were going. 

Where were we? 

Everyone gets up on the dirt embankment to see if we can spot Pisa, or a road, or anything??

We continued on the dirt roads of Toscana.  Looking for anything.  Landmark?  Nothing.  A police helicopter began circling us, and we figured we weren’t in the best location for exploration.  Finally, we called mercy.  We turned around, gave up on Pisa.  We went to the beach.

The beach wasn’t so bad.  We got cappuccino, gelato, Coca-cola Light, and then headed home.  When consuming such treats on a ride, I consider them “fueling”, and not bad.  Gelato or a bar?  I choose the gelato…

We never made it to Pisa, but we saw the beach.  I will be back to Italy next year hopefully because I really need to see this infamous tower.  A failed attempt, regardless of the best intentions.  Mission failed.  Next time, Pisa, next time…

Mission accomplished. I completed my first major European tour. The experience that I achieved is unbelievable.

My highlights:

Getting fifth in the prologue. It was technical, and hard, truly European. Ladies, my second trip to Europe, and I can ride my bike fast, or something like that. Watch out next time when I don’t break into every corner. I will just ride fast.

Taking that confidence from the prologue and trying to apply it to the next race. Getting scared being at the very back, getting up to the very front, attacking, and staying off the front for 60k. From the back, to the front, to off the front.

Blasting though small French towns, lined with fans, completely by myself. Flying. Actually thinking for a moment that I could win the bike race. I could really win. I didn’t, but that feeling that I could, I will never forget. In my head, I was on a campaign for champagne. Welcome to Europe. Next time, maybe I few more girls will come with me, take that challenge…and I could win.

Feeling my body give everything last ounce of energy it had. Suddenly, I needed to be in the draft. I couldn’t survive without the draft. Cramping. Having a feeling of complete failure turn into a “consolation” prize. I got to podium. I got to experience the unanticipated reward for taking great risk, although it wasn’t the reward I wanted…such as winning the bike race…it was a reward. The respect of attack, riding your bike hard. Suicidal? Possibly. Kamikaze? Absolutely. Would I do it again? Definitely.

Getting back into the bike race after a hard crash. It was so hard mentally to try to force myself to care about a bike race when I went into survival mode. I was there, turning the pedals, but I wasn’t in the race. However, in this moment of somewhat helplessness, I reflected on why I was there. Why do this? I love it. Yes. I have potential. I am made for this sport. Through this, I got stronger, mentally, and of course physically. Looking at the other women involved, as I joined the society of bandages, bruises, the dull expression of pain, at dinner, I thought…what I tough group of women. I guess that means that I am tough too.

Racing for the USA. That is cool, right? Team America. Strong women, great camaraderie, and we won our first European stage of the year…who would have thought? Something about racing for your country, bolsters you with pride.

There are so many experiences from this that I never want to forget. I will use these experiences as building blocks to continue to grow on my development. Cascade. Nationals. Italy. France.

It was so good to be back in France. Lucca was nice, but it wasn’t France. Racing on those roads in France made me feel at home. I don’t know what it is about that country that I love, but I do. The pastries are good, the coffee is decent, but it is the people, the language, the fashion that I can’t have, the roads, the vibe, the true good life…and they know how to put on a bike race. Flowers. Fans. Support. Tres Bien. Even though that country carries more history and knowledge within its depths, more then I will ever know, but even though so many people have experience, lived, and studied there…there should be no mystery. Yet, the country reveals a hidden gem to me. Something I feel is just our secret, between me and France. Don’t tell Italy. J’adore. It will be a secret I will always have close to my heart.

I will be back. See you next year.

Conclusion of La Route de France.

5eme Etape: Saint Pourcain sur Sioule – Chatelguyon

132.7k

I finished my first major European tour. 6 stages of brutal racing, crashes, heartache, and success. The drama, the sitcom, the soap opera, the adventure of racing.

It was more difficult to start the last stage then I thought it would be. My body was wrecked from the crash. Going down at 30mph is never fun. I couldn’t sleep as my entire body ached. It felt like I got hit by a train, or a truck, or a brick wall that took the form of a vaguely remembered green jersey of the girl in front of me. I had taken that last corner of that descent and collided into a pile of bikes and bodies. I felt the impact. I felt the ground. I kept replaying the video stream in my head. Left turn. Burning rubber. Carbon cracking. Green Jersey. Ground. Ground. Ground.

I hobbled down to breakfast to try to force feed myself one last day. Foi Gras has a whole new meaning after stage racing. You find yourself forcing down carbs and sweets like they are going out of style. The more calories, the better. Rice Pudding. Nutella. Baguettes. Yogurt. Cruseli (granola). Café au Lait. Repeat. We were fattened gooses, minus the fat and plus another long road race, this one with lots of hills. No Foi Gras after this stage.

With Evie in second in GC, we needed to protect her to the finish. We raced about 90k to a circuit that was about 18k long, and we did it 3 times. It was about 7k up, 7k down, and some 4k in between.

About 5k into the 140k race, KMac and I got the green light to race our bikes. Light it up. I started launching attacks. Ouch. Soon, the adrenaline kicked it and I could barely feel the pain in my body. However, I was unable to get in my drops and I couldn’t take deep breaths of oxygen. I was feeling golden. It was a fast race, all through the hills and countryside and into the circuits. KMac was in a break up the road going into the circuits. The descent was twisty, slightly technical, and I tried to maintain contact with peloton. Four times of this descent? Yikes. Instead of counting down the 5k climb, I started counting down the times I had to descend with the crazy Europeans. The problem with my crash is that it made me slightly mental. When I crashed the previous day, it was on a descent. It was at a time, where I convinced myself to stay in the top 20. I told myself that these girls knew how to ride their bikes, and I needed to be trusting. I guess when you are trusting, you get burned every now and then.

The descents were good. We made it. The climbs were hard. We caught the break. Hard race. Long race. I can’t believe I raced it, and finished it. It was a great stage. I love the long races, the countryside, the roads, and the fans. I felt accomplished. I wish that I had more health at the end of the stage to do a little more damage, but I was safe and we finished. OOosa gained experience, gained respect, and had a good time racing our bikes in Europe. Good work, ladies.

Some days you have good days on the bike, and some days you do not. Why is that? I don’t know. If I had the answer, I would try to avoid those bad days as much as possible. However, maybe it is those bad days that make us really appreciate those good days.

15k

On Tuesday, I had complete bike love. I was ready for the time trial. What is wrong with three time trials in a row? A prologue. 60k off the front. A real TT. I was ready. My legs felt opened.

Unfortunately, with my horrible cramping in the last day, I had found myself going from fifth in GC to very low. Very low. Therefore, I was going to be one of the first athletes off for the TT. We pre-drove the course, and I didn’t have quite enough time to pre-ride it. My legs felt good. The course went up, up, and up through roundabouts, right through the countryside, left up to a radio tower, left over the highway, a technical descent, through roundabouts and tight town corners. It was a great course. Technical. Oh, and it was raining. Did I mention that? The roads were slick. Technical, rain, and a TT bike. I felt good. I kept my body relaxed. Unfortunately, when I got to 5k to go, I knew I was in trouble. It was screaming downhill. I couldn’t put out any power, and I knew I needed to put out a lot more power then I had time to deliver. Oh well. I learn things every day. That day, I learned that I had some major TT bike love. I handled the bike great through the technical areas. I stayed aero as much as possible. Liza was following me in the car (although with the rain, I couldn’t hear the radio)–it was awesome. It felt like a TT should. Through closed streets in France, with motorcade escorts, roundabouts, rain, fast…it was a great time trial.

Things I learned. Always, Always, pre-ride the course. I would have been more prepared and would have achieved a better result. A time trial is segmented by moments of pain. By pre-riding the course, I would have figured out where to “kill myself” and how to approach the course. However, I did the best that I could do with what was delivered, and it was a fun day on the bike. Which brings me to my second thing I learned, “fun” on a TT bike? Shouldn’t I have realized that if I was having TT “bike love”, that I probably wasn’t going hard enough? Hah. I was relaxed and calm, and just needed to kill myself at more appropriate times. And, I did have a bonding experience with the Look596 in the rain. She is fast. I ended the day 20^{th overall. Not my best day, but felt good. What does that mean? I didn’t go hard enough. I’m learning.}

This stage is one for the books. The race started with about a 5k neutral roll out. Normally, neutral starts are also known as complete massacres. Everyone is all but throwing punches to try to gain position. However, in this race, the race directors placed a group of small children in front of us. They “led” the race. Aww. That first 5k felt like a neutral start should. It was slow. Was our adventure done? No. We got to the “start” and apparently there was a “danger zone” that they didn’t want us to ride through. Their solution? Buses.

Can’t you just imagine, the race committee sitting around a conference table discussing the issue, and one man pipes up in a formal French accent, “I got the idea…we will transport them in buses!” And they all applaud in agreement.

Yes. We hopped on a bus for 10k through the danger zone. Heading to a discoteque perhaps? No, just to the bike race. The bike race continued, motorcade, the follow cars, but where were the bike racers? On the bus of course. It was a bonding experience for all. We unloaded the bus, and our bikes were taken off of the team cars, and we started the race. Bang. Game on.

They ride their bikes fast in Europe. I learned this. The bike race which is about 74miles. We completed that in less than 3 hours. We were flying. It was mainly flat, but the constant attacks and constant counter attacks made the race hard and fast with very little relief. We were totally strung out and people were drilling it. Fast bike racers are even more fast at the finish, yet their was a break up the road that must be demolished before the finish. USA wasn’t represented in the break, so we were motivated to bring it back. I learned not to attack at this point, but instead, work with the other teams. All I heard in the radio was Liza telling me to “light it up”. I know how to do that, so Stacher gave me a slingshot and launched me up the road. The other teams said that was against the rules. Instead, we got to the front and all worked together to bring back the break. Golden. Caught the break, and had a murderously fast finish. Fast bike racers here, but I can hang with them.

Did I say they ride their bikes fast over here? Sometimes.

We started out the race fast, and I was pretty proud of my excellent position. And then it happened. I was in the top twenty or so on a fast sweeping descent. Apparently a Brazilian girl on an Italian team (interesting dynamic) didn’t like the way another rider, a Russian on an Italian team (also interesting), took the corner. The girl yells at her, and then proceeds to try to punch her. When that doesn’t work, she unclips, while we are going 50k/h and kicks the Russian, sending her careening into the peloton. I look up, and plow straight into a girl. I go head over the bars and hit the ground. Hard. I didn’t slide, I hit the ground and hit it. My elbow immediately swelled up into the attractive size of a softball and the mechanic jumps out and gives me a running start as I swerve around bikes and bodies as the peloton disappears over the rise. It hurt, but as I chased, I realized that my front fork was completely sheared and barely hanging on. I radio it in, and the mechanic throws me on another bike. I then spend the next 15 minutes motorpacing to catch the peloton. They sling me into the caravan, and I catch back on. I couldn’t put any pressure on my left arm and my body was throbbing.

It was a very surreal experience for me. I thought my day was over. I was in shock and in pain. They were so efficient in getting me back into the group. Chris actually said, “Come on Ali, this is great training!” As he was trying to guide me back to the group. Training? Interesting perspective. At the time I didn’t believe it. But, maybe it is true. At the time, I didn’t even know if I wanted to return to the group. Maybe I should just go for a ride in the countryside.

A break ended up getting up the road and Evie was in it, so USA was covered, then the peloton shut down. Normally, negative racing drives me crazy, but at this time, I was thankful for the relief. I was hurting so bad, and to know I still had 50miles to go in the 91 mile race, it was good to be able to just pedal one foot at a time.

I had a good time in the peloton. Talked to some great girls, and got to ride in to the finish. Just happy to finish the race. I was also relieved to know that nothing is broken. Just a nice hematoma on my elbow, and the most painful part is the handlebar indentation on my chest, which inevitably bruised my sternum. Ouch.

The ups and downs of bike racing continue. Evie ended up winning which is awesome. However, LMyers went down to and had to abandon due to injuries. It was a good day, and a bad day for USA Cycling. That is bike racing though. The good days and bad days. I got to the finish, hugged Evie, and had tears in my eyes. Tears because it did kind of hurt to hug someone, because I was excited for her, and because we may be injured and bruised but we were safe.

Someone’s good day, can be another’s bad day.

Note: Brazilian rider is kicked out of the race, but should never be allowed to race again. The Russian is banged up, and survived with a broken collarbone.

As an amateur, you are responsible for everything in relation to your preparation for a race and inevitably, the race itself.

You find your housing (most likely a hotel or an extremely early morning departure)

You pump up your tires (I finally learned how)

You ride the only pair of wheels you have, which are often clinchers, and heavy. At least you know what you are getting.

You do the research of the course (which I rarely found myself doing), You select the gearing assuming you have looked at the course (I only rode an 11-23 last year, hah)

You race the bike race how you feel

You finish the race, search for some recovery, look for your family/friends, and then usually stay on your feet the rest of the afternoon as you try to fulfill all of your other obligations.

You try to load your bike up, and fix any issues you had with it during the day.

You go out to dinner with your family and friends and relive the race, all the pain and all the laughter.

There is something refreshingly complex about being an amateur cyclist. You have so much to do, and so much to balance, but you can do it whenever you want and with whomever you want. Those days are gone, and now it is on to professional bike racing. One year, going from a “do-it yourselfer” amateur, or I guess I was more of a find someone nice to “do-it themselves for me”, to a professional cyclist and racing with the National Team. Ha.

As a professional cyclist, you have an entourage and a team. Management and ownership occurs. You no longer have your own control to socialize and to interact as you normally would. But with this controlled state, comes great freedom of worry. You have a team owner (which in essence owns you), mechanics, soigneurs (Italian for “servant”), team directors, and logistic organizers (that can also double as a body guard).

You have housing, you don’t have to worry about it all. You just show up and you will be taken care of. On that National Team, our bags are even waiting for us in our rooms.

The course is dictated to you. Before the race, and in the race radio during the race.

Your gearing is selected for you.

Your tires are pumped to the appropriate psi for the type of asphalt/terrain you will cover throughout the race.

You warm up on training wheels, and then race on race wheels. Race wheels are fast, and the weight/aerodynamic enigma is solved for you. You will have the best wheels for the day. No questions asked.

You attack when you are told, you race the way they tell you. You race selflessly, you race hard, and you race where and when you are directed. You don’t pick out the outcome, you just race according to the plan. If you are about to cramp, it doesn’t matter. You attack again. You do your job even if it means bonking and getting dropped. You do your job, and your job is not always you winning the race. For the greater purpose of the team, and you fill your role.

You finish the race. A chair in the shade is waiting for you. A recovery bottle in one of the drink holders, your change of clothes beside the chair, a cool towel, a face wipe. Your bike is whisked away by the mechanic to be cleaned and worked on for optimum performance later.

You are fed, then you get your “rub” from your soigneur.

Your feet are up the rest of the day, your bag is waiting for you at your next destination, and you think about racing your bike the next day.

This all seems seamless. No worries, nothing to stress you out. However, for those of your family and friends that came to watch you race or do the pre-meditated pain session, they have about 2 minutes following the race to see you, and then the channeling occurs. You are told to sit, fit up, drink this, go here, eat this, get rubbed, sleep and repeat. It can get lonely, but you are so busy, and your worries are removed.

For those of you who have come to support me, especially my family and friends, thank you for being there. If means so much to me to see the support, and hear the support on the course. I know I can’t properly thank you after a hard race when I am barely seeing straight, but I appreciate you being there. My legs may be shaking, and my attention span weak, but it is that support, those smiles and hugs, that encourages me and keeps me going when I am here in Europe. There aren’t any friendly faces here. No family, and no friends. I can remember seeing Mike, my family, and my adopted family (Rick and Carol) at Cascade and Nationals. I can visualize them being here, cheering for me, and watching my first big European stage race. In those French voices that I hear as I am riding along, I hear your voices. My friends and supporters back in Marin and back home. Allez, sounds like Ali, doesn’t it?

Thank you for being there for me there, and thank you for being with me here.

Le Etage Un: La Route de France Fonteney le Comte – Cholet 108.2km100k, rollers. From one town to another town.

Race starts. I am lurched into the typical European race. Ah! I forgot what it was like to get roughed up. The roads are narrow. I hear Liza (director) in the radio telling us to move up. “I can see you, Starnes” Shoot. I am in the back. How nice. We start some technical descents and some climbs. The roundabouts are always a mess, and the 25mph through the small town streets are also chaotic. I avoided several crashes as I try to navigate my way to what I thought must be the front of the peloton.

There was a fight. A literal cat fight in the peloton. A girl didn’t like what another girl said to her and they started playing “bumper bikes” with each other. They all but pulled hair. Ridiculous. I try to avoid all contact with those involved.

Racing in France is epic. Great roads. Great crowds. But, the roads are narrow, and when trying to gain position, it is difficult to move up.

I look over at Evie, and yell, “This is bogus. I need to get to the front. Ugh. Bogus.” Famous last words.

I get to the front. Well, almost the front. The peloton slows, ever so slightly. I see a gap open up. I attack. Yes, attack. The girl that was riding on the back the first 20k of the bike race, attacks. Hard. You know how I feel about attacking. Head down, and go.

I start gaining time on the peloton. They look around, ever so briefly. The Police Nationale are following me. The Comminsaire is following me. I am the bike race. Wow. 30s gap. 45s. 55s. 1min. 1:05

I keep pedaling. It gets up to 2:30, then after of about an hour off the front, I get the gap up to 3:05. Wow. I am enjoying blasting though the towns. Hearing, “OOOSA” “American!” “Allez” People are lining the streets. It was amazing.

Columbia HTC and others starts chasing. My gap starts shrinking. Man, I was looking forward to the champagne at the finish. I thought about winning it. I really did. I got caught with 20k to go, and then a felt an all too familiar twinge in my legs. The chills started happening. The shakes. Uh oh. Then, the cramping began. It was all I could do to sit in the peloton. Just sit there. Suddenly the draft felt amazing. I just needed to make to the finish.

We enter the town, 10k to go, but it is on a circuit. We didn’t know this. You have to repeat a 5k circuit. As we roll under the 1k to go, the sprints start. Hands are in the air….then they tell us we have to do another lap. Who knew? That did me in. I had tried so hard to finish with the pack, and that last acceleration did me in. I was cooked. I cramped, and couldn’t stay with the pack. Bummer. I don’t believe it was the fatigue from the break, but probably the humidity. That was a huge disappointment for me.

Lost some time in the last 5k.

When I got done, I was cramped so bad, Liza had to help me off my bike. It was not a pretty sight. Then, they came up to me and told me that I had podiumed. I guess the French decided that I was the “Most Aggressive Rider”, or as they sad Miss Combativity. Is that something like Miss Congeniality? I don’t know, but I was whisked away into the fancy podium RV. Once entering there, I was with the top three riders from the etage, and the best young rider, as well as our overall best rider. There were couches in their, sparkingly water and other such delicacies and refreshments. A couple of plasma screen TVs that showed the podium and what was going on out on the stage. The streets were full of people, and they gave me a huge bouquet of flowers and a trophy.

“Valient effort, American. Better Luck Next Time.” That is my rough translation of what they were saying.

I felt like I was hanging out with the cool kids. I got to be in the air conditioned bus with some incredible champions. They told me I had a great ride, and I deserved all the best. So, the day was a let down for me. Not that I didn’t win the bike race. I don’t regret racing my bike and taking chances, but I just wish I didn’t cramp in the last circuit finish. I lost too much time to be a threat, but now I think I represented well. We are here to race, and you have to put it out there. You don’t always get the results you want, but you gain respect for racing and taking chances.

Moral of the story: Playing it safe doesn’t get you “Miss Combativity”.

Check out pictures here!