Saturday, August 27, 2011

First race

So I got the first race out of the way. No matter how many times I look at CyclingNews I can't remember the name of it, other than the fact that it started in the city of Carnago, Italy. Despite the fact that getting dropped from races makes me severely depressed, it was actually a pretty cool experience.

We all piled into the bus/RV after breakfast (and actually there wasn't much "piling" to do because everyone had plenty of room to lay down) and lounged all the way to the race. Once kitted up, we rolled over to sign in together which is like a mini team presentation because as soon as we were in the vicinity I hear "Team Type 1" mentioned with excitement many times over the loudspeaker. The announcer immediately started calling each of our names, expecting us to file onto the stage (where the sing in table was) as multiple old men photographers are shouting at us and physically arranging us for their photos.

Upon escaping the sign in circus we were able to squeeze in a little more down time and have a meeting in the quiet privacy of the bus before heading to the start line. I didn't have to do ANYTHING except get dressed in preparation for this race. After training each day I just give my bike to one of the mechanics, so it showed up at the race clean and ready to go. When I got on the bus that morning there were already paper bags, labeled with each of our names, full of race food. When I asked for bottles before rolling to the start, they were on my bike in 30 seconds. A team this organized makes not getting results shameful.

So we start the race and after the first lap I surprisingly find myself at the front. Before the start I wasn't even sure I was gonna be able to make it up here at all, sweet! Then someone attacks, I follow, and I'm off the front no problem... and in a race with some seriously big names! Why do people say the racing here is so hard?? So I play around up there (getting caught and then following another move, getting caught again) for about the next 20km until the pain in my legs puts my brain back in focus. Anyone can go fast at the beginning of a race, and at every single race in the US I sit back and watch those idiots that go ape shit from the gun, just waiting for them to peter out before the real racing begins. Now, in this new environment, somehow I had become one of them.

I took a moment to assess the circumstances.. In such not conditions, with two long dragging hills every 20km lap, and with 200km total distance to race, I could already tell I was probably in too deep. I had gone sooo hard in that first hour, and especially considering how hot the conditions were and the fact that we were only being fed straight water, it was going to be hard to recover. It was only just a matter of time, and after 160km completed, my body finally fell to pieces as I tried to force it over one of the hills once more.

I sulked back to the bus with a teammate who'd popped off at the same time, showered, and tried to enjoy a prosciutto and cheese sandwich all while the rest of the team continued to suffer out on the road. Only 3 of our guys ended up finishing the race, Jure got 6th, and Visconti won.

I'm still trying to shake the feeling that I may just not be good enough to finish big races in Europe, and it's hard to look forward to our next one considering it's a mountaintop finish but I'm trying. I already went to the grocery and got myself some light salt which has been my secret to surviving the heat all summer (thanks to some knowledge from Uncle Daniel Holt) so maybe I'll be a little better prepared. We'll see.

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