Alison Tetrick

The thoughtful notes and calls do not go unnoticed, although they may take a bit to respond to, and you may wonder what I have been doing with my time.  Shouldn’t a quick response be easy?

Hit the deck hard, and then try to think.  Better yet, I don’t reccomend that in the least.  Needless to say, I have collected these notes and calls and read them , and reread them when I am feeling low, or just in need of a little pick up.  I am not allowed much coffee during this rehab, so I will take whatever extra jolt I can get.  I am learning the caffeine of human kindness for the soul is much more effective then the caffeine for the jitters.  Although I still appreciate and treasure my single cup of coffee a day.

Speaking of coffee though, Brian sent me some amazing coffee from the DoubleShot Coffee Company in Tulsa, OK, and I would highly recommend this!  I have been thoroughly enjoying it!

Thank you for that.  Thank you for the notes and calls.

One of my favorite thoughts from these  is:

This time to sit is not wasteful, but in its own way, a gift.

I have pondered this statement for quite some time now.  Could it be true?  Maybe.  I am still slow moving, and haven’t been able to be that productive yet.  My brain isn’t functioning as efficient as it once did, and I tend to go into a daze staring out the window thinking of all the things I would rather be doing.  I don’t want to sit here.  I don’t want to rest.  Rest is for the weak.  Yet, I find myself with no other option but to sit.

Is it a gift?  I will let you know when I come up with the answer.

For now, I am contemplating discovering new hobbies.  Should I knit?  Cross-stitch?  Or maybe I should start making jewelry?  There is a whole world out there that is going under discovered by me right now.  There is only so much sight-seeing I can do from behind this computer screen.  However, I am not wasting this time, I will turn into into a gift.  A gift of relaxation, if I can stand it.  A gift of self-discovery.  A gift of thought and prayer.  I will not waste this time, but I will look forward to the future.  A future where I will be stronger and more motivated than ever (which is scary thought in itself).  Each day we have on this earth is a gift.  Yes, a gift.  Even if we are stuck in bed, it is still a gift to be here.

PodiumInsight.com

“My grace is sufficient for you.  For My power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Cor 12:9

Check out the video about the Giro Donne.

HERE!

This seems like a world away.  Sigh.

I figured it is about time to sit up in bed and survey the situation.  Can I move?  Not really.  But am I alive?  Most definitely.

Each of us has our own levels of battles that we face in life.  Some may be viewed more difficult than others, but none are more than we can handle.  It is not our place to judge others levels of hardship as not fair, or not the same.  We have our own personal sufferings.  I will admit to you, giving up the freedom of mobility is extremely challenging for me.  I love my freedom of being outside.  I love the ability to move at will.  I never want to be a burden on someone else.  Too late for that.  I am officially a burden.  An immobile burden.

Besides all the obvious adventures I feel I am missing on my bike, there are several other nuances I miss as well.  I like to clean and organize.  By myself.  Who doesn’t crave this, right? I like to put things in their place at my discretion, in their appropriate color coded, alphabetized, sort of way.  Obsessive compulsive?  Quite possibly.  Without being able to move, I sit and stare the offending object that needs to be put away.  I attempt to use my crutches as chopsticks to pick up and launch the item in the direction it is supposed to go.  As you can imagine this method only as a 50% success rate.  With a failed attempt, I relinquish control once again, and lay back in bed.  I wiggle my toes.  I take a deep breath.  I thank God I am alive in this world another day, even if I am fuming about the mismatched sock on the floor.  I have another day to be here.  Another day to make an impact.  Another day to cherish.

Is it really only Day 5?

Here is a great article by Lyne Lamoureux of PodiumInsight.

Check it out HERE.

Thank you, Lyne.

You probably know by now that I crashed. Hard.  Yet, I don’t want to allow this event to steal the thunder of what was supposed to come.

First things first.

The Cascade Cycling Classic is one of my favorite stage races of all time.  Maybe it is because it is one of the only races I have done more than once in my short professional career, or maybe it is because I have become mildly obsessed with the beautiful scenery of Bend, Oregon.  Maybe I haven’t done all the races there are to do in this world, but regardless, I love Cascade.  Upon returning from the Giro, I was excited to test my new European legs in one of the last tours of the season in the US.

Test those legs I did.

First stage.  2mile prologue.  Under 4minutes of pain.  Only 3 of us broke the 4 minute barrier.  It may be short, but will cause a hacking cough for the rest of the evening.  Over 30mph.  I got 3rd.  There is no strategy to a prologue of that length.  You go hard.  You go until your legs burn and you taste iron, and then you go harder.  Before you know it, you are done.  I like it. The pain is worth it.

Photo by Jonathan Devich

I was happy with this result.  My legs were ready to rock.  Bring on the mountains of Cascade.

Photo by Jonathan Devich

Things were looking good going into the 74mile race of McKenzie Pass.  And then it happened.  I was floating back on a completely wide open descent to try to remove my frame number from getting caught in my rear brakes and spokes.  I wasn’t concerned, it was straightforward.  A crash occurred in front of me, and I saw the clear line to avoid the carnage of bikes, carbon wheels and women.  However, a rider to my right panicked, locked up her brakes and crashed directly in front of me.  Before I knew it, I was flying through the air, and landing soundly onto the highway, rolling under a truck on its way to a farmer’s market in Sisters.

I quickly surveyed the damage.  No road rash.  I learned from an early age from my dad, that no blood meant everything was okay.  Where was the blood?  No where.  I was in business.  I jumped up to grab my bike from the mechanic to keep racing.  My body convulsed into a panic.  Into a shock.  Why was I screaming?  There wasn’t any blood.  Just relax.  Then I lost consciousness.  I fought to keep racing.  I wanted to keep racing.  I love to race.  I felt great.  Why wouldn’t anyone listen to me?

It could have been worse.  I was air lifted out of McKenzie Pass back to Bend for a CT Scan, and X-Rays.  It could have been worse.  I didn’t suffer any brain damage besides my concussion, but I did fracture my pelvis in two places.  I am a strong, sturdy girl.  I don’t break.  How did this happen?  I guess I crashed hard.  Really hard.  It could have been worse, or at least that is what I am told.

I will keep you posted on the recovery process.  I will focus on healing now.  Healing, and trusting that God has a plan for this.  There is a plan.  There is a reason.  I will return stronger.  That doesn’t mean I am not frustrated, not upset, and not disappointed. I am all of the above.  This crushes me.

I have been overwhelmed by the amount of support that i have received.  It is comforting to know that you are there for me in the good times of yellow jerseys and podiums to the bad times of helicopters, fractures, and even muscle cramps. I continue to be humbled by this, and am so appreciative of your love and support.

Man, I really wanted to race that time trial yesterday.  Darn.

I’ve been everywhere, man.  I’ve been everywhere.

When I am tired, I resort to country music apparently.

It was a long 7 weeks on the road.  I think I went everywhere.  Although everywhere may be a stretch, it sure feels like it.  I wouldn’t exchange my travels for the world.  I met so many incredible people, saw the sights, and soaked in a whole lot of bike racing.  Wow, that was a lot of bike racing.  Thank you for being a part of the trip.  Thank you for your support from home, your support on the road, and your thoughts.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.  (Like the thing in France, but in Tulsa)

Gatineau, Canada.  (Where you need a passport to get to)

Deephaven, Minnesota. (Make sure to stop at the stop signs.)

Bend, Orgeon. (Heaven on earth)

Italy. Slovenia. Italy. Switzerland. Italy. (Good thing I brought my passport to go to Canada)

With 2 nights at home, an unexpected tragedy, and I am on the road to Bend again.  I can’t complain to be getting back to Bend for another solid 6 days of racing at the one and only, Cascade Cycling Classic.

I love Bend.

The journey continues.

“Life is uncertain.  Don’t sip.” Lagunitas IPA Beer bottle.

Lagunitas IPA, brewed and bottled in Northern California’s Petaluma.

Although I am not a beer drinker myself, and never will be, this straightforward quote struck home with me.  Life is short, and unexpected.  We do not know what is beyond today, and no matter the preparation, we simply cannot be equipped for everything.  There are countless clichés based on this concept, and there is no reason for me to further reiterate the worn point to “live life to the fullest”.  However, it is always a good reminder that life is a precious gift and to not take any day for granted.

For those of you who know me, you are well aware that I have an enormous amount of energy.  A little too much? Possibly, but it keeps things interesting.  With this energy, I tend to enter each phase of life, each challenge, each goal—head on—not stopping—full gas.  I don’t like walking, I will run.  Yet, I always wonder if people look at me strangely as I “jog” into the grocery store.  I rarely sip, and I tend to gulp.  This leads to quickly devoured lattes, and a burned tongue.

Regardless, I have a passion for life, and the things God has blessed me with like my family, friends, and loved ones.  I never want to be “gulping” these up.  I may want to sip every now and then.  To know that each breath we have on this earth is sacred, and to enjoy it.  Savor it.  Cherish it.  Love it.  With a recent loss, I am further reminded of this fact.  Life is truly precious.

Life is uncertain.  Don’t sip, but don’t forget to taste and enjoy.

Cheers.

Carmen Small, Amanda Miller, Mara Abbot, Theresa Cliff-Ryan, Alison Starnes, Amber Neben, Sinead Miller, Shelley O Evans.

Stage 9

The Queen Stage

Livigno to Stelvio

69k.

This was the moment we were all waiting for, well at the least it was the stage the climbers were all anticipating. The rest of us might have been satisfied to let them race up the mountain without us, but it was our job to get them there.  It was the Queen Stage.  It was the Stelvio.  It was time to prove who was the best climber in the world.  Gone were the stages of flat roads with the inevitable sprint finishes, gone were the 31k “warm-up” climbs.  It was time for the real deal.  It was time for the Stelvio.  The mythical Stelvio.

The race started with some incredibly fast, hot laps around a circuit in Livigno.  Couldn’t we ever just start a little slower?  No.  It was showtime.  Nothing like a circuit at mach speeds to fill your legs with a significant amount of burning lead before climbing the 20k out of Livigno.  Oh yes, another climb, plus another climb, before the real climb.  Mamma Mia.  The group was already whittled down cresting the first QOM.  Unfortunately, a crash occurred and two of my teammates went down.  Amanda Miller and Amber Neben.  Neben suffered from a broken clavicle, yet AMiller was able to finish the stage.  Once we hit the climb after incredible protection and teamwork, Mara did what she does best.  She rode away on the climb, adding to her cushion and increasing her GC lead.

For the rest of us, we could stay with AMiller to ensure she finished the stage, and we counted down the 48 switchbacks of the Stelvio.  One by one.  The climb is a mere 18k, but it is one for the record books. Another real climb.  The countless switchbacks.  Oh wait, actually you could count them, and we did count them, every single one of them.  48 of them, or at least 48 of them once you start counting.  The narrow tunnels offered shade and cool breeze.  Each tunnel with is old carved rock felt more like an entrance to an amusment park ride, than a historic passageway back into tim.  With the dripping water and cobbled roads, I would wait for the evil laugh of a ruby eyed skull from the Pirates of the Caribbean.  As we continued into the snow, waterfalls gushed down the mountain with pure glacier blue water. Three of us stayed with Amanda, made it to the top, satisfied with our jobs and ecstatic to hear the news, USA won!  We were still in pink, and now with a little over a 2 minute margin!  Mara is incredible!  Go USA.

We were able to ride up the Stelvio.  This is the hardest Giro, ever.  Well, at least that’s what they tell me.

Stage 10.

112.7k

Autodrome di Monza

Was the day finally here!?  Day 10 of a 10.  Finito.

One more day, and USA would win the Giro.  One day.  One very, very hard day.  One day to defend.  One day to fight.

The last day was going to prove to be one of the more difficult days of the tour.  With multiple teams still grasping for a stage win, the attacks were endless.  The race was brutally fast.  We needed to protect and defend our maglia rosa.  The pink jersey.  We had our work cut out for us, but we were more motivated than ever.  No one was willing to give us the jersey without one final battle.  And battle we did.  For a solid 112.7k.  Yes, we counted every last kilometer to the finish.

We started on the famous Formula-1 race track in Monza, before beginning our final road race around Italy to finish in Monza.  Defend we did.  At times I didn’t think I would be able to finish.  We had to finish.  We had to give our last little bit for this prospect.  The chance to make history.  With 10k to go, we started setting tempo on the front.  Coming into the last stretches, Theresa executed a flawless leadout, and ShelleyO did it!  ShelleyO won the stage!  USA won the stage in a sprint finish, and USA won the overall, the maglia rosa!  We made history!  Mara became the first American to ever win the Giro Donne, and USA became the first national team to win such a high level race.  We did it.  We really did it.  I crossed the line to hug my teammates with tears of joy.  Yes, I may be a little emotional, but after 10 days of racing, I was tired.  I was exhausted actually, but I was so proud of our accomplishment.  I was proud of each of my teammates.  We all worked so hard for our two goals.  And on Day 10, it was a reality.  We accomplished it.  Job well done, USA.  Expert direction from Manel, excellent support from our staff, and invaluable experience from USA Cycling.  I am truly honored to be a part of such a high caliber program.

Thank you.  This one is for the record books.

Stelvio.  The Queen Stage.  We are in PINK.  Stage 9.  This is the very same Stelvio that the men climb in the Giro.  Bring it.

USA, USA, USA!